Darrell ordered fish and chips, popcorn shrimp and a couple of chocolate shakes, then hustled back to the room. Kat had gone from sitting to lying and her eyes were shut. He set the bag of food on the nightstand and looked down at her. She was so gaunt. It scared him.
As if sensing his gaze, she opened her eyes and smiled. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand to her cheek. “You poor kid.”
“I’m not a poor kid. I’m a happy woman with a great husband.”
“An idiot husband. You should’ve told me to forget this. We should’ve stayed home.”
“I didn’t want to stay home. I like getting out.” She motioned to the bag. “That smells good.”
“Fish and chips.”
“Yum,” she said, and worked to move herself to a sitting position.
He placed pillows at her back, then laid the meal in its take-out box on her lap. “Don’t say we never travel in style,” he joked.
“This is perfect,” she said. “Turn on the TV and see if they’ve got cable. Maybe we can find a movie.”
He got his food and the remote control and settled next to her on the bed. “Ah, this is the life,” he cracked.
“It is,” she agreed, and he knew she meant it.
* * *
Most of their guests were checked in, and Jenna had turned the reception desk over to Courtney for the night when her sister arrived at the house. The wind had gone from a whisper to a shout, and the rain was coming down in buckets.
“It’s pouring out there,” Celeste informed her as if she couldn’t tell from her sister’s wet coat and dripping hair. “If you think I’m riding on a float in this you’re nuts.”
“It’ll be fine tomorrow,” Jenna insisted.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one stuck on the float,” Celeste grumbled and went upstairs to stow her suitcase in the room they were sharing.
“You’re such a baby,” Jenna called after her.
Aunt Edie had come out of the living room by then. “Is your sister here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good. I’ll heat water for our hot buttered rum.”
“Thanks,” Jenna said. “She could use some sweetening up.”
Ten minutes later, they were all settled in Aunt Edie’s cozy living room with hot buttered rum and a plate of Christmas cookies. Roger, who’d been put to sleep for the night, was quiet beneath his cage cover. Which was just as well, as there would’ve been much whining for him to parrot.
“I’m going to get pneumonia in that.” Celeste groaned, looking at her costume, a glittery turquoise mermaid tail and a body suit with a turquoise bra.
“It’s the Driftwood Inn. You have to look beachy,” Jenna said. “And you’ll be sitting under a beach umbrella. That’ll serve as a wind break.”
“That’s not a wind out there. It’s a hurricane.”
“All this complaining from the woman who went skydiving on her spring break? Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Gone with the wind.”
“Ha-ha. Anyway, the weather will be fine by tomorrow,” Jenna said. “These storms always blow themselves out.”
She’d said the same thing to Seth earlier when he’d asked if she still wanted him to drive the float. “Fine by me,” he’d said with a shrug. “I’m under the thing. I won’t be stuck sitting on top in a mermaid costume. I hope your sister’s still speaking to you after this.” Now, listening to her sister, Jenna hoped so, too.
Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up to hear Kiki Strom on the other end. “I don’t want to discourage you or rain on our parade—so to speak,” she said. “But I’m wondering if we need to cancel. The weather report doesn’t look good. There’s supposed to be a big storm blowing in tomorrow.”
“I think it already got here,” Jenna said. “It’ll probably be on its way out of town by the time the parade starts.”
“That does happen sometimes, but I’m worried that the weather we have now is just the warm-up act.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jenna suggested, and hoped they wouldn’t get to the bridge only to find it washed out.
“Okay. It’s your call,” Kiki said, and left Jenna wondering if she was making the right one.
Of course, she was.
Or was she simply being stubborn? This festival was her baby, and it was always hard to part with one’s baby. It was also hard to fail. Was she doing all this to prove she wasn’t a failure? Who was she trying to impress, the people of Moonlight Harbor? Her ex?
There was an ugly thought. She sent it packing.
“Who was that?” Aunt Edie asked her.
“Kiki, wanting to make sure the parade is still on.”
“Oh, I do hope so,” said Aunt Edie. “People have worked so hard on their floats. It would be a shame to let a little wind ruin everything.”
There, thought Jenna. She wasn’t doing this just for herself. Other people wanted the parade to happen as much as she did.
“A little wind,” Celeste repeated. “All we’re missing is Dorothy’s house and the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“It’ll be fine by tomorrow,” predicted Jenna the weather girl. “Anyway, the show must go on.”
“You’d better pray the curtain doesn’t fall on us,” Celeste said.
“Since when have you become such a Debbie Downer?” Jenna demanded.
“Since you decided to stake me to a float in nothing but a mermaid tail,” Celeste retorted.
“With a body suit,” Jenna reminded her.
“Anyone like more buttered rum?” asked Aunt Edie.
“Yes, please.” Celeste held out her mug. “And make sure you send a big batch with me tomorrow. Maybe if I get drunk enough, I won’t realize I’m freezing to death.”
“Oh, very funny,” Jenna said in disgust.
But after fielding four more calls from worried parade participants, her resolve was starting to falter, and worry edged its way into her mind as she lay sleeping. Her dream put her on the Driftwood Inn float in a wind so strong she found herself gripping the roof of the little motel with both hands while the rest of her body (in a mermaid costume) flew out like a human flag.
She was the only one on that float and the only one on the street, while all along the parade route angry people booed her as she passed, throwing tomatoes and clamshells at her. Her sister stood among them, all bundled up in a warm coat and scarf and laughing uproariously.
Susan Frank came into sight and she was dressed like Glinda, the good witch from the Wizard of Oz. But she wasn’t smiling. “I told you this would happen,” she hollered.
Meanwhile, Jenna was trying desperately to hang on to her miniature motel. Finally, the wind became too much for her and she lost her grip.
“Good riddance,” called Susan as the strong wind caught Jenna up, blowing her toward a tall stand of fir trees. Head over heels she tumbled, trying to straighten herself out, until a big tree loomed in front of her. She was going to get hit!
She woke up with a cry, her heart racing. In the bed next to her, Celeste was lightly snoring, oblivious to her sister’s nightmare.
That was all it was, Jenna assured herself. A silly dream.
* * *
The next morning the wind appeared to have died down. The sky was still gray and threatening, but, so far, the clouds had only been able to squeeze out a light mist. Mist was okay. They could deal with mist.
“See?” she said to her sister as they made the coffee for breakfast. “It’s going to be fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine,” Celeste retorted.
Pete walked in at that moment. “Is the coffee ready?”
“Not yet,” Jenna said. “Sit down and have a bagel.” Had she just offered food to Pete the mooch? Good grief, she was turning into her aunt.
&
nbsp; He plopped down at the kitchen table. “Weatherman’s predicting a big storm for later today.”
“Well, it’s not going to come until after the parade,” Jenna said firmly.
“You better hope it doesn’t.”
“It’ll be fine,” she told both him and herself.
“I do wish I could be on the float with Celeste,” Aunt Edie said wistfully.
Yes, that was what they needed, her aunt out in the freezing cold, getting pneumonia. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to work the desk.” Thank God she’d come up with a reason to keep her aunt inside and warm.
Aunt Edie sighed. “Ah, well. That’s the hospitality business.”
“Courtney will be in to help later this afternoon,” Jenna said. “Maybe you and Celeste and I can check out the booths at the pier if the weather turns nicer.” It could improve.
Maybe. In a parallel universe.
A cloudy sky still scowled at them as she and Celeste drove behind the float to the start of the parade route, where everyone was to assemble. The wind had come to the party. But it wasn’t too bad yet. Hopefully, the worst of the storm would hold off until after the parade... Or, better yet, wait and come in at night, after everyone had shopped and eaten. Yes, nighttime would be okay. Sort of.
Most of the participants were present, and Brody and Ellis were on hand with their clipboards, directing traffic, when the Driftwood Inn float pulled up. The fire and police departments had brought only one police car and fire truck. Frank waved at her from behind the wheel of his patrol car and called, “Good luck!”
“This is all the patrol cars you could spare?” Jenna asked the chief of police. “And what happened to the motorcycles?”
“Can’t spare ’em,” he replied tersely. “With the storm about to break, we need to be ready for emergencies. You should’ve canceled,” he added, giving her a disapproving frown.
Her cell phone rang, and the mayor’s name showed on the screen. Had Parker been talking to the chief? Jenna opted not to take the call and shoved the phone in her pocket. People were already gathering along the parade route. They’d paid good money to the various motels and B and Bs, and they’d come expecting to have a good time. And that was what they were going to get.
Celeste had put on her mermaid costume only to discover she couldn’t walk, so Seth had carried her to the car back at the motel. Now he helped her out, walked with her to the float and set her on the little bench they’d disguised as a rock. The beach umbrella in back of it was swaying like a palm tree in a typhoon, but Jenna noticed her sister wasn’t looking quite so cranky anymore. Even though she was with Mr. Fabulous, the cop back home, she never seemed to tire of male attention.
A lone plastic flower from one of the floats blew off and danced past.
“Are we ready?” Brody asked Jenna.
She checked the time on her cell. “We still have ten minutes.” The last thing she wanted was to get to the viewing stand and be stuck with the mayor ten minutes before parade time.
He pointed to the leaden sky. “I don’t think I’d wait.”
The high school marching band was in place, ready to kick off the parade, but she hated to start early. What if some people were still making their way there?
A burst of wind whipped past her, nearly taking her hat in the process. That decided it. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, and a fat drop of rain landed on her nose.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you sure you want to go to the parade?” Darrell asked Kat. She still looked dragged out, and the weather wasn’t exactly beckoning. The sky seemed ready to dump at any minute.
“I do,” she said. “I feel better today, and I want to take advantage of that.”
“It’s about to rain,” he warned her.
“We’ve got an umbrella,” she reminded him and slipped on her heavy coat. “Come on, let’s go. The parade’s beginning soon, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“I doubt you’d be missing much,” he said. “How about we hit a couple of shops instead?” At least she’d be warm and dry inside, and he wouldn’t have to worry about pneumonia.
“We can do that after. Come on, don’t be a sissy,” she teased and opened the door before he could argue further.
“Okay.” If this was what she wanted to do, then this was what they’d do. But, crap, it was cold out.
They walked the short distance to the parade route, the wind pushing against them all the way. And, sure enough, it was starting to rain. He put up the umbrella and held it over her, hoping the wind didn’t turn it inside out.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, looking up and down the main drag. “Are we in the right spot?”
Only a smattering of people lined the parade route, all hunched inside their coats like so many turtles. “The smart ones are inside the shops or at the restaurants, drinking hot coffee,” Darrell said. “We’re going to freeze our butts off out here.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said, and linked her arm through his. “This was such a good idea. I’m glad we’re here.”
Yeah, right. He should’ve found a festival someplace warm.
* * *
Taylor stood on Harbor Boulevard, bundled in the warmest clothes she’d brought, which weren’t that warm, sort of scowling. It was hard to maintain a proper scowl when your teeth were chattering. She wished she’d stayed in the room and watched TV, but Miranda had been excited about seeing Santa, and Sarah wouldn’t permit any slacking, so off they’d all trudged to watch what would probably be the lamest parade on the planet.
The boys were busy trying to punch each other, and Miranda was jumping up and down as if she had springs on her feet. All that energy. Where did it go after you grew up? Responsibility and worry sucked it out of you. Taylor felt tired all the time. If only her sister had found a Groupon for a spa weekend.
“When are we going to see Santa?” Miranda asked.
“Pretty soon,” Taylor said. The sooner the better. A couple of raindrops spattered on her cheek, and she pulled her coat collar tight. It had already been cold and windy. Rain had been all that was missing to make this event truly miserable. Now the picture of misery was complete. She sighed.
Greg, who was standing next to her, put an arm around her, and she shrugged him off. He looked hurt but didn’t make another attempt at comfort. Or solidarity. Or whatever he’d been going for. Taylor experienced a sense of righteous triumph. That showed him exactly where he stood these days.
The righteous triumph faded into sadness. What was happening to them? To her?
A big gust of wind gave her an angry push. The kids were now running with their hands stretched out in an effort to get airborne. She remembered when she was a kid, trying to fly on a windy day. Back then she’d believed if she spread her coat wide enough she could take off like Peter Pan. She’d also believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and magic, and she’d believed she would fall in love and live happily ever after. Those days were long gone, and she was beginning to doubt that she and Greg would ever find their way back to happy again.
“Let’s go,” she said to her sister.
“Oh, come on, stay. Look, the parade’s starting,” Sarah said.
“So’s the rain. We’re going to get drenched.”
“Look, Mommy!” Miranda cried, jumping up and down again, pointing to the high school marching band. The slightly off-key rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” drifted toward them. It was accompanied by the whistling of the wind. Ugh.
Greg put up the umbrella, and the wind turned it inside out, which made Miranda laugh. Oh, yeah. Funny.
Behind the marching band lumbered the first float, shaped like a giant shark with its mouth open. “Don’t let him eat you,” Greg joked with Miranda and gave her a quick tickle, making her squeal in delight.
Anyone watching would’ve
thought he was the perfect father. But what kind of father gambled with his family’s financial security?
“At least you’ve got more clothes on than those poor women,” Sarah said to Taylor as the float passed. The women wore mermaid tails and nude body suits, which were obviously producing little warmth. They were waving, then rubbing their arms for warmth. Their smiles looked forced. The wind was pulling the fake seaweed from the float, sending it flying everywhere. And, speaking of going everywhere, people were starting to drift away, even though there were floats still to come.
“This is getting bad,” Taylor said to Sarah. “We really should leave. Come on, baby, let’s go back to the room,” she said to Miranda.
“We can’t go yet,” Miranda pleaded. “We haven’t seen Santa.”
“I’ll take you to see him at the mall,” Taylor promised.
“I want to see him here! You said we could.”
She and her big mouth. Santa probably wouldn’t show until the end of the parade. She clamped her jaw shut in an effort to keep her teeth from rattling. They were all going to be drenched before this stupid parade was over. Like the poor bedraggled princess coming by in a classic red convertible. She looked like she’d just taken a shower. In her clothes. The red velvet cape she wore over her gown was sopping, and her hair was hanging in strings. She was waving, but her smile was pained. The man driving the car didn’t appear much happier than she did.
The woman on the Driftwood Inn float looked as if she was contemplating murder, and Taylor pitied the poor fool who’d convinced her to ride on a float in a mermaid costume in the middle of December.
Winter at the Beach Page 17
