“I want Sabrina to come here for Thanksgiving.”
Jenna’s left eye began to twitch. “Thanksgiving?” Not happening. Mom and Celeste were coming down for Thanksgiving. They were all going to be together at the beach.
“I haven’t seen her since summer,” he said.
And whose fault was that? “I don’t remember you asking to see her.”
“I am now.”
“Well, sorry. We have plans.”
“Come on, Jenna, don’t be bitchy. You have her all the time. The least you can do is let her come here for Thanksgiving. My folks miss her. They want to take her to see The Nutcracker, and Mom wants them to go shopping on Black Friday.”
“Maybe you should’ve talked to me before you all started making these plans.” Okay, yes, she was being bitchy. After everything he’d put her through, and now, calling as if her plans didn’t matter, she was allowed.
“You’re always complaining that I’m not involved. Now, when I’m trying to be, you’re balking.”
“I’m only balking because Sabrina didn’t enjoy her last visit very much.” There was an understatement.
“If you’re trying to make me out to be the villain, let me remind you that she was with me because she ran away from you,” he snapped.
That had been a short-lived case of teen rebellion, something that might never have surfaced if Jenna and Damien had stayed together. If he hadn’t been self-centered and selfish and unfaithful. If Jenna hadn’t been covering for his lack of responsibility.
“Yeah, well, she was disillusioned enough to think you wanted her,” Jenna retorted. Once she’d gotten to where her father was, living in his parents’ basement with his artist girlfriend, Sabrina’s time with Daddy Dearest had been far from idyllic.
“I did want her,” he insisted. “That just wasn’t good timing. I’m more settled now and I want to see her. I have every right to.”
Yes, he knew his rights. When it came to getting what he wanted, Damien Petit was an expert. He so fit his name, and Jenna was glad she’d taken back her own name after the divorce.
But, she reminded herself, their daughter had rights, too. “I’ll ask her if she wants to go.” If she did, then Jenna would give in and try to do it gracefully.
“I’ll ask her,” Damien said. “I don’t need you poisoning the waters.”
He sure didn’t. He’d managed to do that all on his own. “Then I don’t know why you bothered to call.”
“It was a courtesy call, Jenna. I’m trying to keep things civil.”
Okay, she could be civil, too. “Fine. If she says yes, you can come down and stay the night at the Driftwood Wednesday so you don’t have to spend the whole day on the road. We’ve got an extra room I can give you.” Several, actually.
The deal was struck, and the conversation ended, Damien satisfied with how the negotiations had gone and Jenna feeling that, as usual, she’d come out the loser. She didn’t bring up the subject at breakfast, half hoping he’d change his mind and not call.
It was a weak hope. His parents loved Sabrina and would want to see her. They’d probably guilted him into asking to have her. But, grandparents or no grandparents, Jenna wasn’t going to do anything on her end to further her daughter’s leaving on Thanksgiving.
That evening, Damien called her again. “Twice in one day, lucky me,” she said.
“What did you say to Sabrina?” he demanded.
“What do you mean, what did I say? I haven’t said anything. Neither has she. Did you talk to her?”
“She says she doesn’t want to come.”
“Well, then, that settles it.”
“No, it doesn’t. Come on, Jenna, I’m trying here. Help me out.”
She didn’t want to ever help Damien again. With anything. But he was trying. She reminded herself how important daddies were to their little girls and how vital a good relationship was.
Still... “I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”
Sabrina hadn’t been very happy with how she’d been treated during her last stay, and had felt unwanted. Hardly surprising since the new woman in Damien’s life had no desire to welcome her with open arms.
Maybe that was changing, though. Or maybe the Princess Aurora was history. Maybe she’d left him. Jenna allowed herself an instant of evil glee. That would be poetic justice.
“Talk to her,” Damien urged.
“Okay, I’ll try. In the end, it’s up to her.”
“Just don’t try to talk her out of coming.”
“It sounds like I don’t have to,” Jenna said.
She ended the call and went in search of her daughter. She’d ask Sabrina if she wanted to go, and if she said no that would be that. Jenna could hardly be blamed if their daughter didn’t want to see the rat.
She found Sabrina sprawled on her bed, texting.
“Hey, there. Is your homework done?” she asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Almost.”
“Okay, then, time to text goodbye.”
“Aww, Mom,” Sabrina groaned.
“Finish up and then you can text till your fingers fall off.”
“Fine,” Sabrina grumbled and tossed aside the phone. She was reaching for her math book when Jenna said, “Your dad just called.”
Sabrina froze in mid-reach.
“He says you don’t want to see him.”
“I’m still mad at him.”
Jenna came over and perched on the end of the bed. “I get it. You know, I’m still kind of mad at him, too. But he is your dad, and he does want to see you.” And Sabrina wasn’t the only one who needed to keep that in mind.
“I don’t want to be gone all weekend.”
This from the girl who, earlier in the year, had complained how bored she was and how desperately she wanted to go see her father. What a difference a friend or two made, especially when one of them was a boy.
“I know,” Jenna said. “And I don’t want you to go.”
“Good. Then I won’t.”
“You do get to make the final decision. But I think your daddy would like to see you. Did he tell you Grandma and Grandpa Petit want to take you to see The Nutcracker ballet?”
Sabrina shrugged.
“I bet there’s dinner at the Space Needle involved, too.” There would be now.
Sabrina began to gnaw on her lower lip, a sure sign of indecision.
“And then there’s the Black Friday shopping.” Boy, she had to be nuts to be arguing so hard on the cheating weasel’s behalf.
He was trying to be a better father, though, so how could she not? Besides, if she let Sabrina visit him for Thanksgiving, then no way would he be able to claim her for Christmas. She’d sacrifice Thanksgiving for Christmas any day.
“I guess,” Sabrina said reluctantly. “But I want to come home on Saturday.”
Mom and Celeste would still be here, so they’d all get to be together. They could eat turkey sandwiches and leftover pumpkin pie—if Celeste didn’t devour it all beforehand—and watch movies. It was a good compromise.
“I’m sure that’ll be okay,” Jenna said. “Do you want me to call him?”
Sabrina nodded, and opened her math book, the subject of her disappointing dad closed.
Jenna called Damien and gave him the news. “She wants to come back Saturday.”
“Fine. We’ll be out of things to do by then anyway.”
Out of things to do? Seriously? How sad. Jenna was never out of things to do with her daughter. They helped Aunt Edie in the kitchen, they did craft projects together, watched a movie on a Friday night, talked every afternoon—or rather Sabrina talked and Jenna listened—about Sabrina’s day at school, who was seeing whom, and, of course, Tristan. That, ad nauseam. How could you possibly run out of things to do with your kid?
�
��So, I’ll see you that Wednesday.”
“Wednesday,” she repeated, and ended the call. She could hardly wait. Not.
Meanwhile, though, she had other things to occupy her mind than the upcoming arrival of her ex—and plenty to do. There were posters to distribute, committee meetings to attend and, once in a while, a lone guest at the Driftwood to deal with.
Halloween decorations got taken down and stored away for the next year, replaced by a cornucopia on the dining room table and little Pilgrim candles and figurines sitting everywhere else, from bathroom counters to windowsills. Stores and restaurants in town were also dressed for the coming holiday, and the grocery store was running a sale on frozen turkeys.
“I picked up two,” Aunt Edie told Jenna as she prepared to go to the November chamber of commerce meeting. “It’s always good to have something extra in the freezer. Anyway, I love turkey, and I have several wonderful recipes for leftovers. Wait till you taste my turkey pot pie.”
“Sounds delicious,” Jenna said. “Maybe we can have one while Mom and Celeste are here.”
“Oh, that’s an excellent idea.”
Yes, Thanksgiving was shaping up well. In addition to her family plans working out, they actually had some people staying at the motel that weekend. Three reservations, to be precise. And the Driftwood was now fully booked for the festival. Jenna was whistling as she made her way to her car.
Pete and Seth were working on the float, which was taking shape nicely, and she called, “Looking good,” and gave them a thumbs-up.
Pete was frowning, but Seth smiled in return.
Seth Waters had the kind of smile women saw in their dreams or imagined on the face of a romance-novel hero. At least Jenna did. If only they’d met before life had left them both burned and bruised.
Her wounds were slowly healing. His were of a different nature, though, so who knew? He’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t going to get serious, no matter how attracted he was to her. She’d seen him shooting pool with a woman or two when she went line dancing at The Drunken Sailor on Sundays. A man with a smile like that, with a body like that... Really, how long would he stay out of circulation?
Jenna stopped whistling.
Her mood improved when all the business owners arrived for lunch at their reserved room at Sandy’s and she discovered that Susan Frank wasn’t among them. “She’s home sick,” Kiki said.
“Gee, what a shame,” Nora said with a smirk.
What a relief, thought Jenna. It would be so much easier giving her report without their resident doomsayer present.
After hearing about the progress the Seaside with Santa committee was making, everyone responded with enthusiasm, and when Jenna finally left the meeting she was whistling once more.
The day was crisp and the sky was clear. She had no massage clients lined up for the afternoon. Maybe she’d see if Seth needed some help with the float when she got back to the motel. It was a sure bet Pete would no longer be assisting him.
Yep. He was by himself, straddling the miniature roof, driving nails into the plywood.
She sauntered over for a closer inspection. Of the work, of course. Not the worker. Well, okay, him, too. He’d shed his jacket and his black T-shirt clung to that well-muscled chest.
“I see Pete’s vanished. Need help?” she offered.
“You don’t do well on roofs,” he reminded her, bringing back an embarrassing memory from when she was trying to pull the Driftwood into shape. “And this is higher up than it looks.”
“Okay, never mind. But I can do something.”
“Yeah, you can. It should be ready to paint by Thanksgiving.”
“Good. My sister will be down. She can help.” So could Tristan, who, Jenna was sure, would be hanging around the moment Sabrina returned on Saturday. They could have a painting party Sunday before Celeste and Mom left. It would be a fun way to end the weekend celebrations. And speaking of celebrating... “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Want to join us?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got plans.”
With that cute redhead she’d seen him with the week before? “Oh?” she prompted.
“Going up to see my bro in Tacoma. But don’t worry. You’ll have Pete around to carve the turkey.”
“Yes, we probably will.” Jenna would have much preferred to see Seth carving the turkey. Ah, well, he’d be back in time to paint the float. And there were always shared turkey sandwiches to look forward to.
* * *
One thing Jenna never looked forward to was going shopping with Aunt Edie because they usually wound up at Beach Babes. Pete was happy to drive her great-aunt to the drugstore and grocery store, since that involved no manual labor, but he drew the line at home décor and women’s clothing. And since Jenna wasn’t wild about seeing her aunt climb behind the wheel of a car when she could barely see over the dash, it was left to her to chauffeur Aunt Edie to the more girlie places. Including—ugh—Beach Babes.
Aunt Edie caught her on a day when she didn’t have any massage clients scheduled and lured her in by saying, “I was hoping to run over to Crafty Just Cuz today.”
“I’ll be glad to take you,” Jenna the sucker said.
Browsing in the arts and crafts shop was fun. Elizabeth was on duty that day and showing off the fabulous oil candles she’d created. “Easy to make,” she told Jenna.
And pricey. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Jenna said, determined not to sabotage her budget. Maybe in the new year, or come summer when they had lots of paying guests and a healthy bank account.
Aunt Edie bought some glue and googly eyes and left it at that. And then the real reason for their shopping expedition surfaced.
“I do need to run by Beach Babes and buy some new underwear,” she said as they got back in the car. “You don’t mind, do you, dear? I know her things aren’t your cup of tea.”
Susan herself wasn’t Jenna’s cup of tea. She’d rather have had a root canal than an encounter with the woman, but she couldn’t say no to Aunt Edie, so off they went.
“She told me she’s having a two for one sale,” Aunt Edie said as they pulled up outside the shop. Two for one—twice the ugly at half the price.
Susan had swapped out hideous summer tops for drab and ugly fall wear, but her sale sign in the window had attracted some customers. Two seniors were sorting through a pile of sweatshirts with smiling turkeys on them, and over in the corner by the window, another woman was trying on a windbreaker that had Moonstruck at Moonlight Harbor embroidered on it.
Aunt Edie made a beeline for the back corner where Susan kept a limited assortment of lingerie items, Jenna trailing after her.
“Edie, it’s good to see you,” Susan said, and sneezed. Great. She was still sick and she was at work. Jenna hoped Aunt Edie didn’t pick up any nasty bug while Susan was ringing up her purchases. She vowed to douse her great-aunt in hand sanitizer as soon as they got home.
“I had to take advantage of your sale,” Aunt Edie said to Susan. “My underwear these days are a disgrace.”
So were the ones Susan offered.
“I have some lovely red ones, perfect for the holidays,” said Susan. “You’ll look very festive in them.” Who did Susan think was going to see Aunt Edie in her festive panties?
What Jenna was thinking must have showed on her face because her aunt frowned and said, “A woman is never too old for fancy underthings, my dear. I may be crumbling a little, but inside I still feel fifty and I like pretty things.”
It was a gentle scold, but Jenna felt it all the same. “Red underwear’s great,” she said. Then, chastised, she moved to the display of scarves in a corner of the shop. Her aunt was right. Age was mostly a state of mind, and if Aunt Edie wanted red undies, she should get red undies. And maybe a boyfriend, too.
Aunt Edie and Pete the mooch rockin’ around the Christmas tree? Oh, no
. Aunt Edie had better taste than that.
Not that it was any of Jenna’s business, any more than what kind of panties her great-aunt wore. But she didn’t like to see Aunt Edie being taken advantage of, and if ever there was a man with a gift for taking advantage, it was Pete Long.
“Maybe I’ll get a cute, knitted cap, too,” she heard Aunt Edie say. “I’m planning to ride on our float in the Seaside with Santa parade.”
“Don’t do it, Edie,” Susan warned. “The weather’s supposed to be awful, and you’ll catch your death of pneumonia.” She lowered her voice, but Jenna could still hear her. “Honestly, I don’t know what that niece of yours was smoking when she came up with this idea.”
“Everyone in town is excited about it,” said Aunt Edie.
“They all drank the Kool-Aid,” Susan said in disgust.
“Well, I think she’s brilliant,” Aunt Edie said firmly.
“I think she’s an idiot.”
Jenna the idiot’s eyes narrowed, and she felt a sudden desire to throttle Susan with one of her scarves.
“No offense,” Susan added.
“Well, I am offended,” Aunt Edie said, her voice frosty. “At least Jenna is open to trying new things, and we need that here.”
“Not everything you try works,” Susan retorted. “She should listen to people who’ve been around for a while and know something.”
“Here, ring these up.”
“You don’t want to look at hats?”
“I’m done shopping,” Aunt Edie snapped. “And if I didn’t need panties, I wouldn’t be buying these.”
“Edie, I’m merely speaking the truth,” said Susan.
“Truth or not, you’d be smart to speak less,” Aunt Edie informed her.
She was looking far from pleased when she and Jenna walked out the door. “That woman is such a Negative Nellie.”
More like the Wicked Witch of the West. If only she’d get on her broomstick and ride out of town.
“I don’t think I’m going to shop there anymore,” Aunt Edie said. “No matter what she has on sale.”
A good decision on so many levels.
Winter at the Beach Page 9
