by Deanna Chase
How could Abby say no to her? She couldn’t. Nodding, she said, “I’ll call.”
“Good, that’s good,” Mary said, sounding relieved. “You won’t regret it.”
Abby was one hundred percent certain she would, but she gave Mary a weak smile anyway and said, ‘We should probably go.” But when she glanced around, she noted Wanda had disappeared. She frowned. “Where’s Wanda?”
Mary glanced around the kitchen. “Maybe she just wanted to give us a minute.”
That was probable. Abby started to walk toward the front door, but then she remembered the reason she’d come in the first place. “Um, Mrs. P?”
“Yes?” She waved her sparkling wand, sending the tea and pastries back to the kitchen counter.
“Do you own a white Mini Cooper?”
“Yes, why?”
“Did your niece borrow it to take it for a spin a week or so ago?” Abby grimaced. “And did it come back with the back end smashed in?”
Mary eyed her with suspicion. “Borrow isn’t the word I’d use, but yes, she drove my car. How do you know about that? Candy said it was a hit and run.”
Abby sighed. “I guess you could call it that. I’m the one who hit your car.”
“Abby.” Mary dragged her name out as she shook her head.
“But I’m not the one who ran. You can even check with Pauly Putzner. He was there to take my statement, but before he could get all the information, your niece—Candy—took off. I’m so sorry. It was just an accident. I’ve already informed my insurance company. They just need the police report and an estimate.”
“She took off?” Mary’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Why?”
“I think she was afraid she might get in trouble. I don’t know. But because she fled, I had no idea who to get in touch with. Wanda was the one who realized the car belonged to you, so I came to make things right.”
Her expression softened. “Thanks, Abby. Just leave your insurance information and I’ll pass it along to my agent. And I really appreciate you coming by today.” She held her arms out, inviting another hug. Unable to resist, Abby stepped into her embrace.
They held each other for a long moment, and then Abby stepped back and brushed the fresh tears from her eyes. Once she’d relayed her insurance information, she waved and walked outside, finding Wanda lounging in her golf cart.
“What are you doing out here?” Abby asked.
“Just soaking up some sun. I thought you two could use a moment.” She held up a chocolate stout beer bottle. “Also I was thirsty for something a little stronger than tea.”
Abby laughed as she took her spot in the cart.
“Abby, wait!” Mary called, running out the door with a medium-sized gift box in her hand. “I’ve been saving this for you.” She handed it over. “It’s some of Charlotte’s mementos I thought you’d like to have one day.”
Abby clutched the box, both curious and a little frightened to see what was inside. But the truth was she missed her friend. And after spending ten years trying to not think about her, she’d really enjoyed reminiscing with Mary. The cupcake story had helped lift a little bit of weight off her heart, and if the contents of the box could do the same thing, Abby thought she might be ready to take another walk down memory lane. “Thanks, Mrs. P. I appreciate it.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no big deal. Don’t be a stranger, Abby, you hear?”
“I won’t,” Abby promised. And this time she meant it.
Chapter 17
After Clay’s visit to the lawyer’s office, he stopped in at his mother’s house to check on Olive. His little girl was as feisty and rambunctious as ever while she played in the tree house with the boy next door. He watched from his mother’s kitchen window as Olive and her playmate pretended the treehouse was a fort they were defending with arrows from the evil ghost army from beyond the veil.
He chuckled, his heart full.
“She loves it here,” his mom said, standing next to him. She wore an apron over her dusty jeans and T-shirt and had dirt embedded under her fingernails, a sure sign she’d been fussing with her garden. “I never saw her like this when you lived in L.A.”
Clay nodded. “You’re right. But then she never had the freedom down there that she does here, either. The city is a very different place to grow up.”
“I’m not sure it was the city so much as perhaps her mother’s ambition.”
He hated that his mother was right. Val had always wanted Olive to be the prim and proper little girl, perfectly behaved, perfectly coiffed as if she were a porcelain doll. It wasn’t that Val subscribed to the theory that children should be seen but not heard, she just acted as if Olive’s every move reflected upon Val and her ability to land her next job.
Clay cursed himself for ever agreeing to let Val take her to any auditions in the first place. Val had quickly learned that Olive had a face for television. The casting directors loved her—or they did until Olive got impatient and started getting on their nerves with her excessive chatter brought on by pure boredom.
“You have a point,” Clay said.
“She doesn’t like acting, you know that right?”
Clay nodded. “Yes. She doesn’t come out and say it, but it’s pretty obvious.”
His mom raised her eyebrows. “Really? She’s told me plenty of times.”
He turned to her. “When?”
“All the time. Pretty much every time she comes back from seeing her mom. She doesn’t talk about it with you?”
“No.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets and hunched his shoulders. “She’s protecting Val.”
His mother shook her head, and her freshly dyed, honey-kissed curls bobbed around her face “Well, I’m not gonna protect her. You know I don’t like criticizing Olive’s mother—”
“Really?” Clay asked, chuckling. “Since when?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Hey, I held my tongue while you two were still married.”
“True. You did. And I appreciated it, though you haven’t exactly spared me your feelings over the last year and a half.”
Marina Garrison stared Clay in the eyes and said, “Son, I respect you and your decisions. And I also love you and Olive. But I can’t and won’t stand by while her mother does her best to destroy that little girl’s spirit. And that’s what she does every time she takes her to L.A. Did you know she didn’t talk to anyone for two days after she came home this last time?”
“She spoke to me,” he said, frowning.
“Yeah. Just you. But not me. Not Randy.” She waved a hand indicating the boy outside. “And she barely spoke to anyone at school. Her teacher said it was like her lights were off then all of a sudden someone flipped a switch.”
“I knew she was upset after the way Val left, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but then she snapped out of it and you were already angry enough at Val. But now that she’s suing for custody, I thought you needed to know.”
Clay nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
He glanced over at her. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Mom.”
Clay was still fuming when he walked into the brewery. Valerie was a piece of work. Didn’t she care at all about what she was doing to their daughter? He shook his head. It was obvious she didn’t. Not when she was set on forcing her to do something she didn’t want to do.
Instead of checking in with Rhys and the rest of the staff, he headed straight for his office. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. He sat at his desk and stared blankly at the recipe he’d been working on, but it was no use. His frustration had turned to agitation, and he was restless.
He stood, grabbed the baseball off his desk, and tossed it from hand to hand as he paced his office. The idea that Val would try for full custody was ludicrous. Surely the fact that she’d abandoned them would count against her in the court proceedings. He’d never understoo
d how Abby’s mother could’ve left her daughters. And he certainly didn’t understand how Val had left Olive either.
With Abby on his mind, he glanced out the office window toward the old brew shed. And that’s when he saw her. She was standing in front of the window, her head bowed as she focused on her work. Something inside Clay shifted as he watched her. He was calmer, as if her presence settled him. At just that moment, Abby glanced up and their eyes met. Her lips curved into a whisper of a smile, sending an unexpected jolt of joy straight to his heart. Without another thought, he placed the baseball on his desk and headed out to the shed.
“Hey there.” Abby grinned at him the moment he walked through the door. “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it?”
“Only because you’ve been slacking,” he said, smiling lazily at her.
“Slacking?” She laughed, her eyes sparkling.
He grinned at her like a fool, all too aware he was seeing a freer, happier Abigail than the one who’d rolled into town over a week ago. The glimpse he was getting of this Abby was the one he’d known back in high school, the one he’d fallen in love with.
“How do you know I’ve been slacking? Been keeping an eye out for me, Garrison?”
“So what if I have?” he said, moving to stand closer to her, unable to avoid her magnetic pull. He’d never been able to. There was no reason to believe he’d be immune now. Not when she was so obviously the same person, only richer, more layered, more complicated.
She placed her hands on his chest and tilted her head to look him in the eyes. “I think you know where to find me if you’re looking for me.”
His breath caught as he gazed at her lovely face, the openness there shining back at him, the trust, the goodness. She was everything Val wasn’t, and it took his breath away.
“You know, at home treating the orchard and making sure Dad has a decent lunch to eat. Who ever thought I’d turn into the domestic goddess of the family?”
He chuckled and took a step back. “Not me. But speaking of your family, are your sisters coming around to help out?”
“Sure. Faith swings by most days. But Yvette is busy at her store, and Noel has Daisy. It just so happens I’m the one who’s living there. So Faith mostly entertains Dad and keeps him in good spirits while I make sure everything is running smoothly. It’s not a burden.”
“I wouldn’t dream of thinking it was, not for you, anyway. Family always was your priority,” he said.
“Was… until I left.” She turned and focused on an open box on her work station.
It was then he realized she hadn’t been working at all. Or at least hadn’t started working. The only thing on the stainless steel counter was the box and two photographs. He peered at them, recognizing the photos of her and Charlotte at the beach, photos he’d taken. “Whoa,” he said softly. “I haven’t seen those since we got them developed. Where’d you get those?”
“Charlotte’s mom. I went to see Mrs. P today.”
Sympathy mixed with surprise flashed over his face as his eyes widened. “Looks like it went well enough. You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Abby said softly. “Okay enough. It was hard but also good. We reminisced a bit. Talking about her was easier than I expected.”
Clay’s heart swelled with emotion. He hadn’t seen Abby this peaceful since before Charlotte died. He wanted to live in the moment for forever. He’d missed this Abby. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to shut her away in your memories. You know that right?”
“I do.” She gazed up at him, her eyes glassy from the tears she was holding back. “It just usually hurts way too much.”
“And now?” He couldn’t resist reaching up and tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear.
She blinked and her eyes cleared. “It still hurts, but talking about her seems to be healing, too. Mrs. P wants me to talk to a therapist.”
He wished she’d gone to see one ten years ago. When she’d broken up with him and made it clear she was leaving town, he’d asked her to talk to a professional before making such a huge life change, but she’d bolted. “If you find the right one, they can usually help. What did you say?”
She let out a choked laugh. “I told her about the quack I saw down in New Orleans who only made me feel worse about everything.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You did talk to someone? I thought… well, I guess I thought you were against the idea.”
She pressed a hand to his chest right over his heart. “You asked me to right after we lost Charlotte, so when I got to New Orleans, I did.”
Clay brought his hand up and covered hers, holding her hand there. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”
“Me too. Mrs. P says sometimes you have to keep trying them out until you find the right fit.”
“That’s usually true. I did before I found Doctor Bell.”
“You saw a therapist?” Her voice was high and disbelieving.
He gave her a wry smile. “Well, sure. I was suffering from some serious abandonment issues. When Val left, I started to really take it personally, you know? First you, then her. It starts to really mess with a guy’s head.” Abby winced and tried to pull back, but Clay kept his hand clasped over hers, keeping her in place and added, “Don’t run again, Abs. Not now. We still have business to settle.”
“Clay, I—”
“You don’t have to say anything, Abby. That’s not why I brought this up. I only wanted you to know that sometimes, a lot of the time, speaking to the right professional can really help you sort out the crap that’s tearing you up inside. I just want you to be at peace with the past.”
She studied him then shifted her gaze to their hands still interlocked over his heart. “Are you?”
He sucked in a shuddering breath, caught a little off-guard by her question. “Are you sure you want to know that answer to that?”
“Yes.” Her answer was immediate and full of conviction.
“Okay, but remember, you wanted to know.”
Abby nodded. “More than you can possibly imagine.”
Clay was certain she was going to regret asking. Certainly, he was going to regret answering, but he couldn’t lie. Not when everything inside of him was screaming for him to kiss her. “Feel that flutter of my heart beneath your hand?”
She frowned. “Yeah.”
“That has everything to do with you. With your presence. With this quiet friendship we’ve restarted. With the fact that ever since you walked back into this town, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”
“You haven’t?” she asked, giving him a hint of a smile.
“No. Not even for a minute. So the answer is definitely no. I have not made peace with my past. Not all of it. Most of it, sure. But when it comes to you, Abigail Townsend, my past with you will always haunt me. I’ve wanted you since I was thirteen years old, and ten years of being apart has done nothing to change that fact. I want you in my life, Abby. But that hasn’t been my choice for a decade. So I did the only thing I could do—”
“Marry someone else,” she said. Her attempt at a smile was more of wince.
He let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. “No, I learned to deal with the fact you weren’t coming back to me, to us. So while I can accept what has happened, even move on from it and lead a normal existence, it’s not what I wanted. I suspect it will never be what I want, but it isn’t my call to make. It’s yours and always has been.”
Abby made a light strangled noise in the back of her throat as she pressed her palm harder to Clay’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Clay,” she said again. “So, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know, Abs. It’s okay.” He brought one hand up and caressed her cheek.
Her body careened toward his as she leaned into him, her eyes closed. Everything about her took his breath away. He knew it was a bad idea to let himself fall for her all over again when she had a life she’d eventually go back to in New Orleans. But there was no stopping wha
t was happening between them. When it came to Abigail Townsend, Clay didn’t know how to walk away.
With his heart in his throat, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers.
Chapter 18
Abby’s insides melted. Warmth and joy and desire mixed together, filling her up as she slid one hand into Clay’s thick hair and pressed the other one to his chest. His lips moved softly over hers, gentle, yet firm, and quickly turned slightly demanding when his arms tightened around her. He bowed her back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.
The world stopped and faded away. All she knew was Clay Garrison and the way she felt in his arms—wanted, loved, desired.
“Abby?” A man’s angry voice filled the shed. “What are you doing?”
She froze, recognizing Logan’s outraged tone immediately.
Clay straightened, bringing Abby with him, then turned around, keeping one arm around her waist. He glanced over at her. “You know this person?”
Abby nodded and took a step forward. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for my girlfriend. Imagine my shock to find her kissing someone else. Is this the real reason you aren’t coming home?”
“What?” She stared at him, her mouth slightly open as she tried to process what he’d said. Girlfriend? Had he conveniently forgotten her email and their phone call last week?
Clay stiffened beside her and cleared his throat. “I thought you said you broke up.”
“We did!” Abby said, alarmed by the accusation in Clay’s tone. “I ended it last week. Twice.” She turned her attention back to Logan. “Did you think you could just show up here and pretend that conversation never happened?”
“No, of course not,” Logan said reasonably, taking Abby’s hand in his. “But you can’t just break up with someone over the phone after two years of living together. Abby, we have something special, and I won’t let you throw it away.”
