Welcome to Moonlight Harbor

by Sheila Roberts

  The sun began to beat down on her, frying her shoulders. She wished she’d put a little bottle of water in one of her apron pockets. No, she wished she’d never gotten on this roof.

  Maybe someone would get the idea if she waved. She tried to stand to make the time-honored “help me” wave of the stranded, had a panic attack and sat back down, heart thumping. Never mind. She didn’t want help that badly.

  Her stomach began to rumble. It had to be getting close to lunchtime. That meant Aunt Edie would send Sabrina out with food. Then she could have her daughter call the fire department and they’d bring out a ladder truck and rescue her. And she’d look like the idiot of Moonlight Harbor.

  Like she cared at this point? She just wanted off this roof.

  A million years passed until, finally, Seth’s truck came into sight. Help at last. And just in time. In addition to her whining stomach, Jenna’s bladder was beginning to think fondly of a bathroom visit.

  He got out and came to stand at the base of the ladder. “Checking out the view?” he called up.

  “Something like that. Can you call the fire department?”

  “Are you on fire?”

  “I need someone to get me down.”

  “I think they only rescue cats.”

  “Ha, ha,” Jenna said sourly.

  “You’re afraid of heights, huh?”

  She scowled at him. “Can you just call someone?”

  “No. I’ll get you down.” He started up the ladder, running up it with the agility of the fearless. Once at the top, he held out a hand. “Come on. Scoot down here where I can reach you.”

  “Oh,” Jenna whimpered.

  “You can do it. You got up there.”

  “Getting up and getting down are two different things,” she informed him.

  “Don’t be a wuss,” he said, his hand still out.

  She sucked in a breath and scooted half an inch, the hot shingles burning her bottom as she went.

  “You probably should let somebody else do this if you’re afraid of heights,” he said.

  “Well, I didn’t get any takers last night,” she snapped.

  “You didn’t ask everyone. Come on, come down a little closer.”

  Another whimper, another six inches.

  “You can do it,” he said.

  Dear Lord, get me off this roof and I’ll never be stupid again. Jenna scooted down some more until, at last, she was back at the ladder.

  “Good,” he said encouragingly. “Now, stand up and turn around. I’ll guide your foot.”

  “What if I fall?”

  “I’ll catch you.”

  “Yeah, but who’ll catch you?”

  “Come on. Don’t think like that. Get up.”

  Jenna managed to get almost up and turned around. Blink, blink.

  She commanded her eyes to stop twitching. She needed to watch what she was doing.

  But she didn’t want to see where she was falling. Maybe she should shut them.

  “Okay, now grab the ends of the ladder.”

  And fall. Jenna was practically hyperventilating now.

  “You can do it. Come on.”

  She swallowed hard, opened one eye and grabbed the ladder. Then she swung out a foot. Immediately, his hand clamped over her ankle, guiding her foot to the first rung.

  “Okay. First rung’s the hardest. After this it will be a piece of cake. Let’s get your other foot on the ladder.”

  She had to stick out another foot! Blink, blink. Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink.

  “Give me your damn foot,” Seth growled.

  His impatience galvanized her and she stuck out her foot. With a whimper.

  That also was guided to the ladder, which she was now gripping with all her sweaty might.

  “The hard part’s over,” he assured her, his tone softening. “Come on. Next rung.”

  Several eye twitches and another whimper and she managed another rung. And then another. Step by step, he walked her down until she was finally on solid ground. She was a sweaty mess and her heart was pounding as if she’d run a marathon.

  She let out her breath. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. How long have you been up there, anyway?”

  “Forever.” And even though she’d put on makeup that morning, her lipstick had long worn off and she was grimy, slimy and sweaty. Someday this man would see her at her best. Maybe.

  Not that it mattered since she was done with men.

  “You’d better let me finish for you,” he said.

  She nodded. Fine with her. “Thanks. I need to go...” Well, she needed to go.

  “Wait a minute.” He ran to his truck, pulled a slab of wood from the front seat and returned with it. “Here’s your sign.”

  He’d painted her company name on it and on the side had managed to carve in a hand holding a seashell. He’d screwed two hooks on the top so she could hang it up.

  “I can put in a post so you’ve got someplace to hang it,” he offered.

  “Thanks. It’s perfect. How did you do the hands?”

  “I’ve got a Dremel. No big deal.”

  It was to her. “Give me the bill for your materials and I’ll reimburse you.”

  “It wasn’t that much.”

  But it was yet another thing she’d asked him to do. Was she asking this guy to do too much? In light of the poor excuse for a room she was giving him, absolutely. “I think I’m getting the better end of our bargain.”

  He shrugged. “I like to keep busy and I like being outside. Not enough business yet so I don’t mind having things to do around here.” He nodded in the direction of the roof. “I’ll put up the rest of your tarp.”

  “Thanks,” she said. Then, “I think I’ll get inside. I need water.”

  “Better put something on your face,” he advised. “Looks like you got a burn going.”

  There was an understatement, she thought once she looked in the bathroom mirror. She looked like Lobster Girl. Note to self: don’t work on a roof in a sleeveless top. Correction: don’t work on a roof at all.

  “Can we fly my kite now?” Sabrina asked once Jenna had finished smearing every inch of available skin with aloe vera cream.

  Just what she wanted, more sun. “Can we do that tomorrow?”

  Sabrina frowned. “I guess.” She wrinkled her nose. “You do look kind of sunburned.”

  “I am kind of sunburned. How about we play some cards with Aunt Edie instead?”

  “Okay,” Sabrina said in resigned tones.

  “First, let’s make a run to the store for some root beer. We can make floats.”

  That met with her daughter’s approval, and they made their way to the grocery store. “What did you do all day while I was up on the roof?” Jenna asked.

  “Nothing,” Sabrina said with a pout.

  “Nothing at all? You just sat like a rock all day.”

  “I did some sketching. And I wrote in my journal.”

  She didn’t volunteer what she wrote and Jenna didn’t ask. She didn’t think she wanted to know.

  “And I took some pictures.”

  Ah, something positive to focus on. “Did you get some good ones we can hang in the rooms?”

  “I guess,” Sabrina said, refusing to reward her mom with any kind of positive attitude.

  “Great. You’ll have to show them to me when we get back.”

  Sabrina just gave her another shrug, her reward for being a neglectful mom.

  Beachside Grocery was busy when they walked in, with both locals and tourists in town for the weekend, all picking up supplies. They snagged the last gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of root beer and made their way to one of the lines of people waiting for access to a checker.

  In the process, they ran into Brody
. He was looking handsome and polished as usual, wearing a blue shirt that matched those baby-blue eyes.

  “Well, hey there,” he greeted Jenna. “Hi there, kiddo,” he added, smiling at Sabrina.

  She frowned and muttered a hello.

  Brody was impervious to teen girl disapproval. “Stocking up on food for the chick gathering tonight?” he asked Jenna.

  “No. Getting ready to play some cards and we need sustenance.”

  “Poker?” he teased as their goodies rode up the belt and the checker began ringing up the purchase.

  “I’m not a gambler,” Jenna informed him. Except she was taking the biggest gamble of her life with the Driftwood Inn. “We’re playing Hands and Buns.”

  “Hands and Buns?” he repeated as if she’d said something naughty.

  “It’s a card game.”

  Sabrina grabbed the bag. “Mom, our ice cream’s melting.”

  “Oh.” Jenna pulled out a bill, paid up and got change.

  “Have fun,” Brody said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “You’re going out with him?” Sabrina demanded as they crossed the parking lot.

  “Just having dinner.”

  “Jeez, Mom, he’s such a yuck. He called me kiddo.”

  “He was only being friendly.”

  “I’m not a kiddo,” Sabrina said, her voice charged with umbrage. “Anyway, you and Daddy are barely divorced.”

  “And Daddy’s already with someone else,” Jenna reminded her, which made Sabrina scowl.

  Jenna sighed inwardly. Wrong thing to say. As if her daughter wanted reminding that her father was moving on and leaving them in the dust. And now, Jenna was shaking things up just when Sabrina craved security.

  She put an arm around her daughter. “I’m not getting involved with anyone.”

  “Not him, please,” Sabrina added in disgust. “Anyway, I bet Daddy’s not going to stay with Aurora forever. He’ll start missing us and come back.”

  And fish would walk. But what if he did come to his senses and ask her to take him back? Would she?

  Never. He’d hurt her too badly.

  Sabrina was quiet on the ride home, but once they started playing Hands and Buns, she reanimated and even crowed when she won. And Jenna felt less like a neglectful mother. How did other single moms manage that delicate balancing act between work and family without falling into guilt?

  She asked her mother that when she called her after dinner to report on her big roof adventure.

  “You remind yourself that you’re doing what you have to do,” Mel said. “It’s that simple. And that difficult.”

  “Sometimes I feel like such a failure,” Jenna confessed.

  “It wasn’t you who failed. Don’t take on the burden of your husband’s bad behavior.”

  But maybe he wouldn’t have behaved badly if Jenna had admitted defeat, acknowledged that they were two mismatched people pulling in different directions instead of together and set them both free. Too late to relive that part of her life. All she had was the present.

  But she wasn’t sure she was managing that so well. She heaved a sigh. “I know I’m not spending enough time with Sabrina. And she hasn’t made any friends here.”

  “Things will sort themselves out and you two will be fine,” Mel said.

  “I hope so. I don’t want to ruin her life.” Aunt Edie’s offer had looked like such a godsend at first. But now that Jenna was up to her eyeballs in the mess of trying to revive the motel it felt more like some sick cosmic joke.

  “You’re not. A little adversity is good for all of us.”

  “That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger?” Jenna said with a frown.

  “Something like that. It seems like most of us build up fortitude only by wading through rough waters.”

  “I don’t mind wading. I just don’t want to drown.”

  Mel chuckled. “You won’t. Trust me on that.”

  And, after what her mom had gone through, she should know.

  They said their goodbyes, and Jenna went to help her aunt get ready for her Friday night gathering of friends. The fare was simple: shrimp dip and crackers, a cheeseball that looked radioactive and cubed watermelon.

  “The girls always bring wine,” Aunt Edie said as they pulled out wineglasses. Aunt Edie had a variety—everything from polka dots to turquoise swirls. Even one with a face complete with false eyelashes and earrings in the glass ears. “I collect them,” she said.

  There was an idea to hang on to for Christmas.

  “Who all is coming tonight?” Jenna asked, bringing herself back into the present.

  “Let’s see. Nora Singleton, for one. You’ve met Nora. She’s a doll, and she and Bill have been so supportive ever since I lost Ralph. And, of course, my old friend Patricia Whiteside. Sometimes I wish I’d thought big like Patricia and made this place larger.”

  Then they’d have had an even bigger headache trying to remodel. “It’s perfect the way it is,” Jenna assured her, and Aunt Edie gave her a grateful smile. “Who else?”

  “Let’s see. Tyrella, who you’ve met. We’ve done business for years. Cindy Redmond. She’s just as sweet as the candy she sells. Then there’s Courtney Moore, who works at Beach Babes. Nora invited her to join us. That girl has a flair for designing clothes. If Susan Frank would give her a chance she could bring in some wonderful distinctive pieces to Beach Babes.”

  Jenna remembered Susan from the chamber of commerce meeting, she of the frown and the grumpy comments.

  “But you can’t tell Susan anything,” Aunt Edie continued. “Then there’s Courtney’s friend Annie Albright.” Aunt Edie shook her head. “There’s a gal who needs to hit Restart. Her husband is a drunken lout. Works on and off as a handyman. Drinks away most of his paycheck. Verbally abusive.”

  “Why doesn’t she leave him?” Jenna asked.

  “She keeps hoping he’ll change. They’ve got a little girl. I think she’s eight.”

  “Does Annie work?”

  “She’s a waitress at Sandy’s, works the morning shift. She’s quite the cook, and she’d love to have a little food truck someday. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to make that happen, not with the man she’s tied to.”

  “This almost sounds like a support group,” Jenna joked.

  “In a way, it is. They’re all lovely women. I know you’re going to enjoy them.”

  The women started arriving at a little before seven. Nora and Tyrella were the first, and came bearing wine.

  They were followed by Cindy Redmond. “You can’t have a Friday night without chocolate,” she said, laying down a plate of chocolate truffles.

  “It pays to know people,” Tyrella said, plucking one from the plate. “Lord love you, Cindy. What would we do without you?”

  “We’d be a lot skinnier,” said Nora.

  “You’re one to talk, Ice Cream Queen,” Cindy shot back good-naturedly.

  Sabrina stuck around long enough to be fussed over and snag a chocolate treat, then disappeared into her room to text with Marigold, and Jenna vowed to invite the bff down to visit as soon as they got things more squared away.

  “She’s adorable,” said Tyrella, who was already digging into the toxic cheese ball.

  “She can be,” Jenna said.

  “Girls,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “They’re enough to drive you to sugar. I have two, twins. They’re off to college in the fall, thank God.”

  “Remind me again. How old is your daughter?” Nora asked Jenna.

  “Fourteen.”

  Nora gave a knowing nod. “The right age to start driving you nuts. That was when my daughter became a handful. And the boys.” She rolled her eyes. “Once the testosterone kicked in they were always at each other’s throats. They’re the best of friends now, though, and I don’t know what I�
�d do without them to run the go-carts and arcade and golf.”

  “What is it about teenagers, anyway?” put in Cindy.

  “Aliens,” Nora said. “When they hit adolescence, aliens come and take over their bodies. Once they hit their twenties the aliens return to the mother ship and your kid becomes human again.”

  There were smiles, nods and chuckles to confirm the truth of Nora’s statement.

  “I think my little alien would be happier here if she had a friend,” Jenna said. “She’s lonely. And I’m not spending as much time with her as I’d like.”

  “Kids need to have friends to hang out with,” Nora acknowledged. “My granddaughter Caroline is the same age, and she’s coming for a visit later this month. Maybe they can hang out together.”

  “That would be great,” Jenna said. Any granddaughter of Nora’s had to be a good kid.

  “I wish my daughter was old enough to keep her company,” said Annie, who had arrived with some chips and dip. “But she’s still playing with dolls.”

  “Encourage her to enjoy that as long as possible,” Nora told her. “Kids these days grow up way too fast.”

  Annie nodded, and her smile looked sad. How fast was her little girl growing up in a home with an alcoholic dad?

  Of course, everyone wanted to hear all about Jenna, and the room was full of praise for her boldness in leaving her husband—as if she’d had a choice—and her kindness for coming to help their pal Edie. Hardly surprising, in light of the fact that Edie made her sound like a cross between Mother Teresa and Joan of Arc.

  She was impressed with them, too. Courtney was striking, tall and willowy with dark hair, strong features and a flair for dress that declared her an artist. She had a fancy mani and pedi, with both her fingernails and toenails dotted with tiny seashells, and wore a necklace of silver mermaids and sand dollars. She was a gum chewer, taking her gum out to enjoy treats and perching it on the edge of her wineglass.

  “Tacky, I know,” she said to Jenna. “But it’s either this or smoking.”

  Jenna couldn’t help admiring her cold shoulder top with the lace-trimmed bottom that she wore over her tight jeans, which were decorated with lace seashells.