by Bird, Peggy
“With all the stuff going on around here, you could probably use a little extra money coming in. Maybe we could go through your library one more time, see if we missed anything of notable value? But you’re busy.”
Heartsick, he tried to put as little affectation into his words as possible. All he wanted, at this moment, was to run away. Put Eva Mitchum far behind him and begin the slow process of getting over her.
“You wanted me to be happy. You wanted me to be able to do more. I’ve been working on that. I have some incredible ideas.” Guilt warred with determination in her eyes.
“I can see that. And I am so proud of you.” He meant it. But it was too hard to watch her implementing all these changes without him. Not very long ago, Eva had needed him. And Beau had done everything he could for her. But she didn’t need him anymore, and it was time he learned to accept that.
“Anyway, you’re busy. I should really get going. I’m glad I got to see you again.”
He was going to give her a chaste kiss on the forehead but at the last minute closed his mouth over her full lips in a kiss that he could look back on with no regret. He’d give her a proper goodbye. The words that were locked in his heart would still find a way to express themselves. With a last, lingering look, Beau smiled a goodbye and started for the newly installed French doors.
“Beau.” He froze, back to her, half inside, half on the patio. “Don’t leave me again.”
• • •
Heart lodged somewhere at the back of her throat, Eva waited. Please turn around. Don’t walk out on me.
And then he did turn. Slowly, and with an ever-changing range of emotions mirrored in his expressive eyes. Caution. Wonder. Suspicion. Hope.
“Sit down. Let me tell you what’s been going on here.” She gestured across the bistro table to the chair her gardener had vacated and left her arm outstretched, palm up.
Wordlessly, he took a seat, reaching for her hand with both of his—an anchor they both needed in that moment. She willed him to meet her eyes, to see the sincerity and know that she meant every word she said.
“I was really rude to you when you mentioned all the amenities here at the manor that were going to waste.”
Beau started to speak, but she stopped him with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
“I couldn’t use the stables, the pool, the tennis courts, or any of it. I was bitter, and I wasn’t ready to listen. Then, after you left, and I swallowed my pride enough to hire back Mr. Kirkpatrick and Mrs. Potter”—Eva smiled as Beau began to nod, some of his mysteries finally unraveling—“I started to realize, I can’t use them how they are. But if they were modified, or if there were a way to get out there … You gave me the idea with your ramp. You made me see that I was in a cage of my own making. There was no reason to stay inside all day, every day, feeling sorry for myself.
“And when I saw how bored little Charles was—he’s Mrs. Potter’s son, by the way. He has no little kids to play with here, and I realized I was being completely selfish in wanting to make the manor accessible just for myself. I’ve been doing some research, and I can get this place licensed as a summer camp for the disabled. Excuse me—differently abled.”
“Wow, Eva, I don’t know what to say. I’m so happy for you.” But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I thought if I hired everyone back, if I had people to talk to, kids in the house again, I’d be happy. But it wasn’t enough. Then I thought if I planned out this summer camp and actually gave this rambling old manor a purpose, that would satisfy me.”
“Yoo-hoo! Sorry to interrupt, but you weren’t answering your phone, and I really want to share this with you in person anyway.” Camille was running lightly across the lawn, a handsome man who could only be Kenneth jogging beside her. They were both grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot to charge it last night.” Eva looked around, realizing she had more people on her patio than she had chairs for them.
“This is my husband, Kenneth. I really ought to have brought him by ages ago.” Camille shifted her attention to Beau. “I saw you a few weeks back, but we never got a chance to properly meet. My name is Camille.”
Eva watched her friend reach out a hand to Beau while twining the other around Kenneth’s waist. They looked so happy, so in love. What a lucky pair! She had thought that sort of future was lost to her, but now …
“This is Beau, the man I was lucky enough to fall in love with. And I was just about to convince him to come back to Rochester … to stay.”
Taking a deep breath, she chanced a glance at the man across the bistro table from her. At first he looked shocked, his jaw slack and his eyes blinking repeatedly. Slowly, a smile spread across his gorgeous mouth—this time not stopping until she could see his heart shining in his eyes.
Camille’s gasp was full of joy. She clapped her hands in delight. “Then this is a day of wonderful news. We came by to tell you we’re having a baby.” As one, Camille and Kenneth palmed her still-tiny stomach.
Eva and Beau were quick to offer their congratulations, but it was clear their attention was more for each other. Camille gave her friend an exuberant hug and promised to visit soon, to check out the progress on all the improvements. They waved, heading back the way they’d come, hand in hand.
“So, you said you were convincing me to stay?” Beau arched a brow, one side of his face tilted up in a cocky grin.
“I was merely going to point out that Rochester has a great little shopping district. Though they are sorely lacking in one particular area.”
“Let me guess, they don’t have any cozy, independent bookstores that sell rare first editions?”
“Would your father be all right without you?”
“Oh, I’m certain he’d get up to no good. Best I take him with me.”
“And here I was worried that the old guest house on the grounds was going to go to waste.” Eva grinned.
Beau swept Eva from her chair, carrying her to the edge of the lawn where he settled them both in the grass, in front of her roses. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, letting it out on a happy sigh. He reached out, plucking the nearest bloom and holding it out to her.
“Marry me, rosebud.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
About the Author
Jennifer DeCuir is still looking for the perfect balance between being a wife and mother, getting all the stories out of her head and onto paper, and catching up with her ever-growing TBR list on her Kindle. “Sleep? What’s that?”
Find Jennifer DeCuir at www.jenniferdecuir.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter @JenniferDeCuir.
California Sunset
Casey Dawes
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2012 by Casey Dawes
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5416-1
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5416-2
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5417-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5417-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art 123rf.com / bigstockphoto.com ©atome
To all my writing groups, past and present, who have encouraged, goaded, corrected and inspired me to keep going, especially Bill, Caryn, Clare, Grace, Heidi, June, Laurie, Linda, Pam, Rionna, Rosemary, and Susan. For my most faithful reader, my husband, Ken. In memoriam to Stanley W. Young, Jr., may you finally be in a place to be at one with the peace that passes all understanding.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
We never know how what we say or do affects someone. I’ve been blessed to be on the receiving end of many teachings, both pleasant and unpleasant. There’s the woman in Al-Anon who told me I had no faith (true), a man who told me I should stop trying to tune in the figurative radio station I was listening to and find a new one. There were men who hit me and men who held me. A woman stepped out of a crowd during the final leg of my Avon walk in San Francisco, put her arm around me and said, “I’ll walk with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”
We really don’t do it alone. It takes many people to make a book dream a reality. Thank you to the people who taught me lessons I needed to learn about life and writing. The Romance Writers of America, especially the Monterey Bay and Montana chapters have been wonderful support groups. Having California Sunset accepted by Crimson Romance has changed my life. Thank you, Jennifer Lawler! And thank you to the wonderful editorial and production staff at Crimson.
Thank you too to the professionals and lay people who poked and prodded me to change the radio station from one of doubt to one of victory: Al-Anon, therapists, ministers, friends and others too numerous to name.
I will continue to “pass it forward.”
Chapter 1
Annie strode into her boss’s office to answer his summons. Maybe I’m finally going to get a bonus this year! It would be great to be able to sock that money away in David’s college fund.
She grabbed the printouts off Randy’s chair and dropped them to the floor with a thud. “It’s going great, Randy,” she said. “The next piece of the project is nailed down and we’re still on track.”
“Close the door, please,” he said.
“I’m counting on this project to showcase what I can do for the company.” Annie shut the door and plopped down in the chair, her pen poised over her pad as she leaned forward. How should she react? Surprised? Matter of fact?
Randy cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny neck. “I’m afraid the project has been terminated.”
“What?”
“JCN needs to cut costs,” he started. “Ten thousand people are being laid off from the company.”
“There’s got to be another project somewhere.”
Randy pawed through the papers on his desk. “There is another project you can apply for. You’d be great for one in New Jersey and they could use your skills. It’s complex and government-mandated — one of those impossible situations you’re good at handling.”
“I can’t move to New Jersey.” She’d been to New Jersey once — boardwalks, billboards, and Bruce Springsteen. Not a place she could ever imagine living. And she couldn’t drag her son away from his friends. He was only fifteen.
“C’mon, Annie. Give it a chance. I’d hate for the company to lose you.”
She shook her head. New Jersey may have been fine for Frank Sinatra, but it wasn’t fine for her. It had taken so long after her divorce to feel secure again. She had her friends, her home, her cats.
“There’s nothing in the company in this area for someone with your skills. I looked. If you aren’t willing to apply for the job, then I have no choice. I have to lay you off. Even if you do apply, there’s no guarantee that you’ll get the job in New Jersey. You may be laid off anyway.”
Her stomach dropped and the bitter smell of Randy’s coffee became nauseating. She stared out the window, not really seeing the rain-greened California hills, unable to believe what she was hearing. What was she going to do? Randy’s voice streamed around her, and her mind snagged phrases like “severance package,” “layoff procedure,” and “resume class.” She gripped the arms of the chair as if she was trying to steady a rocking boat.
An ache began in the back of her neck. She needed this job. No one else was going to support David or provide medical benefits. She was going to have to do something to keep a salary coming in. And with the economy the way it was, chances of finding a new job soon would be slim, especially for a thirty-five-year-old woman. Unemployment wouldn’t cover her mortgage, much less her other expenses.
Maybe she could learn to like New Jersey. After all, she liked Bruce Springsteen. Boardwalks and billboards might grow on her. There was an ocean, even if it wasn’t the Pacific.
But what about David? Would her ex fight her for custody if she tried to move their son out of state? Her stomach roiled and she forced back the tears welling in her eyes. Never cry in the office. Never.
“You have six weeks before the layoff is final.” He gathered papers into a folder. “In the meantime, look these over. Annie?” He held the papers out to her. “I really hope you change your mind.”
She took a deep breath, looked Randy in the eye and took the folder, feeling like the proverbial truck had just slammed into her. But she wouldn’t show it if she could help it.
So she threw back her shoulders and marched to her eight-by-eight office. Gently closing her office door behind her, she hurled her pad, pen, papers, and keys on her desk. Damn! She ran her hands through her curls. It would make her already frizzy hair stand out like Young Frankenstein’s, but she didn’t care.
Tears rolled down her face. She was tired of being the strong one, handling everything by herself. And now this. She’d worked at this company for eight years. How could they lay her off? Or worse, send her to godforsaken New Jersey?
She slid her laptop and Randy’s folder into her canvas bag and put on her “gently used” Burberry raincoat. Her head held high, low heels sounding a brisk staccato on the cement walkway, she strode out into the chill March air to the parking lot.
Her mind raced as she opened the door to her Prius. How could she move to New Jersey, leave behind her friends, and abandon the small beach bungalow that had been her sanctuary ever since the divorce? On the other hand, how could she give up a job that provided security and benefits for her child? David was going to go to college soon. Being laid off would destroy the nest egg she’d built for his college fund. Her ex wasn’t going to be any help. He could barely take care of himself. She slammed the door a little harder than she meant to do.
What would David think about moving to New Jersey? Could she make him understand? David was doing his part. He kept his grades up and practiced soccer faithfully. She was so proud of him and she couldn’t let him down.
She stared out the window, idly watching the moving clouds and changing light patterns as the sun peeked in and out. The recession had hurt Silicon Valley hard. She’d been working long enough to make it to management, the worst place to be during a recession.
She should at least look into the job in New Jersey. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what they’re looking for and find out how to apply.
A small ray of hope filled her. Maybe a move would be okay. She could make a list and see what it would take. She glanced out the windshield. In a cone of sunlight, she spotted a soaring hawk. She trailed its spiral flight on an updraft, its red tail gleamed in the small patch of sunlit clouds. An omen that New Jersey was the right path? Or a signal that she was doing the wrong thing?
Tears threatened again, but she forced them back. She was still in the JCN parking lot and no one at the company was going to see her cry. She pressed the start button and started home.
She drove automatically, oblivious to the towering redwoods fading in and out of lowlying fog as she climbed the mountain highway. Her
mind churned over the scene in Randy’s office, her emotions twisting and turning with the curves of the road.
“Some choice,” she muttered. “Lose my job or go to New Jersey. Start all over again. Find a new place to live. Pack up all my stuff!” Her knuckles whitened as her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to pack up a house?” she yelled at the curve-ahead sign.
She zoomed up the hill, thoughts reeling through her brain, trying to still her emotions with logic. She’d made a good living through perseverance and hard work when no one thought she’d be more than a check-out clerk. This was a little bump in the road; that was all. No one was going to take away all she’d achieved, even if it meant she had to move to New Jersey.
Rapid raindrops pummeled her windshield, forcing her attention back to the road. She didn’t need an accident on top of everything else. What she needed was some relief. On impulse, she turned north on Highway 1 instead of south toward home. For years, the Ocean Reads bookstore had been her sanctuary from the craziness of her marriage. A cup of tea and a new romance novel would give her some downtime before she tried to convince David that moving would be a good thing.
She drove into the covered parking garage. Right on cue, a faded, wired-together Volvo pulled out of a space. She swung in with ease, beating out the Volkswagen bus headed for the same spot. At least something was going her way.
Inside Ocean Reads, she shook the raindrops from her coat and glanced around. Everything was as it should be: locals sat on the banquette under the clock, parents and children pored over brightly colored books in the children’s section, and patrons hunted through the used book boxes for bargains.
Her shoulders relaxed as she began her usual routine, wending through the sections of the bookstore, her fingers caressing the stories of other people’s lives, loves, and imaginations.
