by Alison Kent
“Well, you should. Everyone should know what an amazing woman you are.”
At the sound of a throat clearing behind them, Harry dropped his arm from around Luna’s neck and they both turned to see Mitch in the doorway. He raised a hand and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “I can go. If you two are busy.”
“We’re not busy. We’re just having a moment.” Her father gave Luna one more big hug. “But now it’s March Madness time. How’re the wings?”
“Ready to come in off the grill. But you’re in charge of the beer, so…”
“I’m on it. You coming?”
“Right behind you,” he said, turning when Luna stopped him with a quick, “Mitch? Do you have a minute?”
“What’s up, moon girl?” Mitch asked, after Harry was out of earshot.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot in front of Daddy.”
“Your dad knows we talk. You and I worked together for years. He doesn’t have a lock on my friendship.”
“Please promise me that I haven’t ruined ours?”
Frowning, Mitch moved to stand in front of her, leaning against the workbench built into the wall beneath the pegboard of yarn. This family. The talent. It never ceased to amaze him, and yet no one he knew was more down-to-earth than the Meadows clan. “There’s nothing you could do to ruin our friendship. I think of you as a daughter. You know that. And we never give up on our daughters. No matter how many years, or how many miles.”
“Or how much well-intended butting-in gets in the way?”
“Luna. Don’t. If not for your butting in, I might never have found Kaylie. How could I? She changed her last name, though why in the hell she chose to change it to Flynn…”
“Does the name mean something to you?”
“Yeah. And not anything good. But she wouldn’t have known that. She was too little to understand who he was.”
“Who he was?”
“Ernest Flynn. Our neighbor. Our dealer. Or he had been before Dawn and I cleaned up our act.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes going wide.
“It’s why I enlisted. I’d lost my job, had zero in the way of prospects. The service would provide for my family and keep me straight. Never occurred to me Dawn would need a reason, too. Guess with Ernest next door, she had more of one to slip back into old habits.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No reason you should have. I can’t imagine Harry talking to his girl about his best friend once being a junkie.”
“But you got clean.”
“Got clean. Stayed clean. I’ll have one beer tonight while we go through about four dozen wings during the game, but that’s it. I learned my lesson. And getting out of the service and finding Kaylie gone…I swore then and there I’d stay sober. No way was I going to risk finding my girl and then losing her again because I couldn’t get through life without a crutch.” He’d been watching her as he talked, as she lined up the bundles of yarn she held on the workbench where he was leaning. All the greens together with the blue and the red. The yellow and black on one end, separate.
“You’re staring,” she said, without looking over.
Guilty as charged. He gave a lift of his chin. “What do you think about when you’re doing that?”
She shrugged. “Different things, depending on why I’m making the scarf.”
“Why are you making this one?”
She twisted her mouth to one side, moved the dark red to the middle of the row of mostly greens. “It’s for Kaylie.”
He stopped himself from offering a lame platitude about her being sweet. Something was going on here. His moon girl didn’t weave scarves for new friends. She didn’t weave them for old ones, or even for family. All of her work went to the boutique in Austin. It was an agreement she and her parents had made. It kept her from being taken advantage of. He couldn’t imagine her saying yes to even the most casual acquaintance wanting to place a special order.
“Why? What are you trying to make it say?”
“And here I thought you didn’t get my craft.”
“What? Just because I can’t imagine sitting for hours at a time engaged in back-breaking repetitive motion?”
“You mean like cooking the same dish over and over again every day? And speaking of which, have you given any more thought to going to work for her?”
It was all he thought about lately. “Even if I could make it happen, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Because you’d feel compelled to tell her who you are?”
He looked down at his feet, then scrubbed both hands over his face, frustrated by the rock and the hard place hemming him in. “Lying to her is killing me. I tell myself it’s the right thing to do. She’s got a good thing going with her café. She seems happy. She’s done something with her life. I don’t want to screw that up.”
“Why assume her knowing the truth will screw things up?”
“Of course it would.”
“She came here to look for her parents.”
“What?” he asked, looking at her over the top of his glasses.
Luna nodded. “She came back here to find out why she’d been dumped into foster care.”
“She told you that?” When she gave him a look, he raised a capitulating hand. “Okay, okay. She told you. But that doesn’t change anything.”
She swung to face him, her hair flying behind her like a cape, her arms flung wide. “It changes everything. Are you kidding me? She wants to know why you left, where you went. You could answer all her questions. About where you were all her life. And probably a lot of the ones she has about her mother.”
“Or you could answer all her questions, couldn’t you? Since you’ve heard most of my stories over the years.” And then it hit him, her need to weave for Kaylie. “That’s why you’re making the scarf, isn’t it? Because of what you know.”
When she shrugged in answer, rearranging the order of the skeins, he pushed. “Tell me about it.”
“I don’t know.” She bit off the words, frustrated. “I see Kaylie and I think fresh, and food, and the garden she wants to put in, and the trees on her lot, and it all comes to me in green.”
“Where does the guilt fit it?”
She leaned her head back, her laugh bitter. “Which part?”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “How many parts are there?”
“Guilt over not telling her the truth the first time we met. Guilt over continuing to not tell her the truth now that I’ve gotten to know her. Guilt over not keeping my mouth shut from the very beginning.”
“If you’d done that, I wouldn’t have gotten to meet my girl.”
“I know,” she said, looking at him with big, damp eyes. “That’s the only good part of all of this, except how good is it when you won’t tell her who you are? I didn’t get the two of you together for you not to say anything. What’s the point of that?”
“Life’s not a fairy tale, Luna. And happy endings can come in a lot of different colors. Just like your scarves.”
But she was shaking her head. “Are you saying you’ll be happy just knowing where Kaylie is? Not having a real relationship with her?”
“If I have to,” he said, watching her eyes flash with disbelief.
“And what happens if she finds you? What’re you going to do then? Have you thought about that? How to explain to her you were here all this time?”
Had he thought about it? Had he thought about anything else? “I guess I’ll deal with that when the time comes. When it comes. If it comes.”
“Mitch,” she said, then stopped and breathed in, as if gathering her emotions to throw at him in a big, fiery ball. “You know it’s going to. And if you let it happen rather than making it happen, probably in a very bad way.”
He had a feeling she was right, and that he was screwing up by not coming clean with his daughter. Even thinking those words, his daughter…
He could hardly breathe with the weight of
having her near. It crushed him, a vise stealing his strength and his ability to think clearly and what passed for his soul. He’d seen her twice, and his heart had ceased to be his and belonged completely to her.
But she knew none of what he felt. She couldn’t, and without his telling her the truth of who he was, nothing would change. He would carry this burden alone, and hope it wasn’t as heavy as the one he’d borne the last twenty-three years. Coming home to the apartment on Harbor Lake after serving his tour of duty…
He shook his head, remembering what it had been like to find strangers living behind the door that should’ve opened to the rest of his life. They didn’t know what had happened to Dawn and Kaylie. They didn’t know who Ernest was, or where he had gone. The management office knew, at least about Dawn. Hard not to when her suicide attempt had been all over the news.
They had no forwarding address for Ernest, and not a clue about his girl. All the cops could tell him was that with her mother in prison, she’d gone into the system. But they couldn’t tell him anything more, since he had no proof of who he was.
Dawn was in the wind, having vanished after her release. He hadn’t even been able to rely on her to get their girl back so he could raise her, care for her, do all the things he’d never had a chance to do because he’d been young and stupid and in over his head when he wasn’t out of it.
Why he’d ever thought it a good idea, having a kid with that woman…
“Mitch? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, moon girl. You’re right.”
“So you’ll talk to her? Tell her who you are?”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping the rest to himself. When the time was right. When he could be sure he wouldn’t hurt her more than he already had. When he could bring himself to face losing her again.
When he wasn’t so selfishly afraid, and had the strength to let her go forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When the doorbell chimed through the house Thursday morning, Kaylie and her coffee were curled up in her wingback chair. May had gifted her the chair when she’d moved from Hope Springs to Dallas after Winton’s death. It was worn in all the right places, the rose-and-wine print thinned to pale pink on the arms, the seat cushion shaped to fit tiny, tiny May, the lingering sheen of Aqua Net on the headrest giving up the older woman’s scent when Kaylie brushed against it just right.
While the chair had been in her condo, Kaylie had slept in it as often as she’d slept in her bed, wrapped in the multicolored afghan May had given her the day she’d had the chair delivered. Kaylie had watched sad movies in this chair, read sadder books in this chair, sat and journaled and wondered why she kept reaching for the sad when she was sitting in the heart of the happiness she’d known in Hope Springs.
It was a given that she would never quit missing Winton and May, and that she’d feel their loss forever; they were her family, after all. But she’d learned to use what she felt and to live with it, to let their love push her on, not bring her to her knees with the grief of their absence. All the things she did, she did as if under their gaze. She hoped she had made them proud.
Setting her notebook and pen on the floor beside her, and burying the exterminator’s invoice beneath, she headed down the hallway, reaching the front of the house as the bell rang again. She pulled open the door to a smart-looking woman she actually remembered as Rick Breeze’s mother. “Mrs. Breeze?”
“Dolly. It’s Dolly.” Dolly Breeze brought both hands to her cheeks, her eyes going wide and inexplicably damp. “Kaylie Bridges! Look at you! Oh, it’s not Bridges now, I know. It’s Flynn. But look at you! Oh, come here, sugar,” she said, opening her arms.
Kaylie, not usually one for hugging, allowed the other woman’s embrace, smiling as she breathed in the barest hint of Chanel. “I’m so glad to see you. When Jessa mentioned you, it didn’t even register that she was talking about Rick Breeze’s mother.”
“Breeze, Bridges. You two were always in line together, Rick in front, you behind.” With a final squeeze, Dolly stepped back and this time clasped her hands to her chest as if holding them there was the only thing keeping her from reaching for Kaylie again.
“I hate to admit it, but I remember so little from living here before. Outside of this house, anyway. I think I just tried to get through the school days so I could come back here.” And why in the world did she feel compelled to make such a confession to Dolly? “Come in. Would you like coffee? Or water?”
“I’m fine, Kaylie. I had coffee at home and I’ll have more when I get to the office.”
“That’s right,” Kaylie said, leading the way toward the dining room. “You work for Ten.”
“I do. So I’ve seen some of the plans for your place. Two Owls Café. I absolutely love that you would honor May and Winton this way. May would love it so. Are you going to be serving her hot rolls?”
Kaylie laughed. “Every day. They’re so easy, even I can do them, but I’d rather not have to.”
Dolly took the chair next to the one where Kaylie had been sitting. The one where Ten had sat to eat the night he’d brought her mashed potatoes and meat loaf. “You’ll have quite enough on your hands, I’m sure. Even with your limited hours, and your simple but absolutely genius menu, you’re going to be one busy girl. And baking all those brownies. Assuming you’ll do those yourself.”
“I’ll do some, yes, but the recipes aren’t so big a secret that I won’t share them with who I hire.” Interesting that Dolly knew so much about Kaylie’s plans. Definitely more than Kaylie had shared with Jessa, meaning the older woman must’ve heard the details from Luna or, more likely, Ten when he’d shown her the plans. “I’m not sure if Ten told you that this is just a part-time position. I don’t want you to expect the hours you get working for him. I just don’t anticipate having them. Not until I see how the café is received.”
Dolly crossed her legs, smoothing out the fabric of her taupe linen slacks. “He did tell me, and said if I was interested, and you wanted me, he and I could work out a schedule for me to keep my benefits. And from the chatter already around town, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about your reception. You couldn’t have picked a better time to open.”
“Since I haven’t been out much except to deal with things for the house, that’s good to hear.” But it wasn’t the news that had Kaylie’s heart tumbling. “And that’s very generous of Ten.”
“He’s a generous man.”
“You’ve worked for him a long time?”
Dolly nodded. “I started there about six months after my husband died.”
“Jessa mentioned his passing. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Her mouth tight with her suffering, Dolly looked down at her nails. “It was hard, but that’s to be expected. We’d been inseparable for most of our adult lives. Much like Winton and May.”
“It nearly killed May, losing him.” Kaylie shook her head, remembering.
Dolly met her gaze with a sad understanding, asking, “The two of you stayed in touch then? You and May?”
“We did,” Kaylie said, “though we didn’t get together as often as she would’ve liked. I was the one who had a hard time with it.” And why was she admitting all of this to a woman she was hoping to employ? “I’m sorry. That sounds so selfish—”
“No, sugar. It sounds honest. Never apologize for being honest.”
“Well, then, to be honest,” she said, putting into words a truth she’d never admitted to anyone, something this house had her doing often these days, “if the state hadn’t paid for my education, I probably would’ve stayed with them forever. It was the first true home I’d ever had. I didn’t want to give it up.”
“No more than May wanted to give you up, I’m sure.”
Kaylie let Dolly’s words settle. May had done nothing but encourage her toward the future, a new life on her own. She’d been eighteen, and it had been time. It had also been for the best, even if she’d thought differently when packing her things. May’s ki
cking her out of the nest had allowed her to fly. Don’t look to where you’ve come from, Kaylie. Look to where you’re going.
She gave Dolly a wry grin. “Growing up’s not for the weak, that’s for sure.”
“And yet we all come to that place, don’t we?”
Kaylie nodded, swallowed, missing May.
“Your attending UT thrilled May to bits. You may not have known that. Or known how much. She bragged on you constantly. You always had the intelligence and the drive. You just needed the nurturing to pull it all together.”
This was certainly not where Kaylie had expected this interview to go. Or where she had wanted it to go. This was business. Dolly’s observations were personal to Kaylie, about Kaylie. And yet she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “I didn’t realize, when I was here before, that you and May were such good friends.”
Dolly brushed at the fabric over her knee, her downcast gaze contemplative. “I had Rick late in life. May was older than me, but she was still more of a contemporary than most of the mothers of Rick’s classmates. You may not remember the play your drama class did in seventh grade. A Christmas Carol?”
Kaylie hadn’t thought of that for years. “I do remember,” she said with a laugh. “I played Belle to Rick’s Scrooge. May made me the cutest pink gingham dress, probably not very period authentic, but it was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen.”
“It was the first time I remember ever seeing you in a dress. You were always more the sneakers and softball glove sort. You carried that glove everywhere.”
“I was afraid to let it out of my sight,” she said with a laugh.
“Studies, athletics, working while going to school.” Dolly smiled. “May had a lot to be proud of. And so do you.”
“Well, thank you. But you didn’t come here to talk about me, so…” Kaylie got to her feet and gestured behind her through the dining room. “Would you like to see the kitchen?”
“I’d love to,” Dolly said as she stood. “And to hear more about your plans. Ten’s told me some, but he doesn’t have answers to half my questions.”
