“I’m not sure you know this, but your friend Joseph invited me to sing at your festival.”
They glanced at each other, torn between wariness and hope.
“I really wish I could,” he said mournfully. “But with this news about Zoe, I just don’t have the heart for it. Just between you and me,” he lowered his voice, “I may need to take some time off. Please don’t say anything to anyone, on social media or anywhere.”
“Oh. Okay. We definitely won’t. We wouldn’t do that. But…” Monica chewed on her thumbnail, as if pondering the right thing to say.
Alexis stepped in. “Does, um, Zoe know about this?”
“No, I don’t want to upset her while she’s going through such a terrible time. Clearly she doesn’t want to talk about it. Every time I try, she changes the subject.”
Monica gave him a weak smile. “Well, that’s Zoe for you. Work work work.”
“Exactly. She really needs to get more rest. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you two. I’ve been watching her. I’ve seen how hard she works, even though she’s ill, and I think it would be great if you two could give her a break at the pizza shop. You should take over completely, maybe for the rest of the summer.”
“The rest of the summer?” The girls exchanged glances filled with panic. “But…um…we have so much to do still for the festival.”
“The festival. Right. See, that’s why it’s a good thing you contacted me. You guys are so busy with the festival that you can’t give Zoe all the care she needs. That’s where I come in.”
“You do?” Alexis was watching him like a deer in the headlights.
“Yes. I’ve decided I’m going to focus all my energy on Zoe’s recovery. I’d like to take her somewhere warm, maybe the tropics, Hawaii or even Bali, perhaps. I’ll rent a villa and hire some servants and treat her like a princess. What do you guys think about that plan?”
Monica was starting to look a little pale. “You’re going to take Zoe away from Lost Harbor?”
“Just until she’s healed. It would help if she’d tell me what’s wrong, but she’s being very private about that.”
Alexis gulped and bit her lip. Ah-ha. She was the less nervy of the two. Monica was the instigator, as Zoe had guessed. “Yes, but—”
Monica elbowed her in the side and she yelped.
“But what?”
Alexis shot Monica a pleading glance, and the bolder twin stepped in to answer. “Everyone knows music is healing,” Monica said. “This festival could be just what Zoe needs. Maybe you should both stay here.”
He had to give her props for quick thinking on the fly.
“Interesting thought. Maybe we should consult with the doctors.”
“No!” Monica’s eyes darted this way and that. “Does Zoe know about your plan?”
“Not yet. That’s why I’m here, to make sure you two can cover for her.”
A spark of hope lit up Alexis’ face. “Zoe would never go for that idea. She loves it here. She never goes anywhere. That’s the reason at least two of her engagements ended, because she didn’t want to leave.”
Two engagements? Two of her engagements, meaning there were more?
This was big news. He’d have to get to the bottom of this bombshell. Some other time.
“I was worried about that, too.” He pulled out the letter they’d sent him and set it on the table where they could see it. “I have an appointment with the head of the hospital. I’m going to offer up a substantial donation in exchange for their help in convincing Zoe. Without breaking confidentiality, of course.”
Alexis wrung her hands together, every line of her body screaming tension.
Padric almost felt bad for her—actually, he did feel bad for her—until he remembered the terror he’d experienced when he’d first read that letter. He steeled himself to continue the act.
Monica, proving her status as leader of the mischief, knocked over a glass of water, completely drenching the letter and nearly hitting the laptop. “Oh no!” She leaped to her feet and tried to clean up the mess. Of course, in the process, she managed to destroy the sodden remains of the letter.
“I’m so sorry. I hope you didn’t need that.”
Padric had to hand it to her. Without the letter, he didn’t have much proof of their misdeeds. Luckily….
“I did, actually. Which is why I took a photo of it when it first arrived.” He flashed his phone at them, then tucked it into his pocket. Of course he hadn’t taken a photo of it. Why would he do that? “Anyway, what do you think about my idea? I’d like to call Zoe right away. Oh wait, here she is.”
Right on cue, Zoe ambled into the Dark Brew in her usual relaxed way. She looked healthy as a horse.
“She’s amazing, the way she puts on such a good front,” he whispered to the girls. “You’d never know she was suffering at all.”
Monica and Alexis were now too nervous to even laugh. They were watching Zoe close in as if she were a snake charmer they couldn’t look away from.
“I’m so glad I caught you all together.” She sat down and crossed one leg over the other. “I had a flash of genius this morning. You guys ready for this? I think that Padric should perform at the Last Chance to Rock festival.”
The twins looked like their heads might explode.
“I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. ‘Hometown hero returns to his roots’—great headline, right? And obviously it would be great for our little festival. I know you’re not here to work, Padric, but this would be a special occasion. What an incredible way to reintroduce yourself to the humble dot on the map where you were born. This festival would instantly become a worldwide sensation. Just imagine the possibilities!”
Wow, she was really piling it on. Monica’s and Alexis’ eyes were getting bigger with every word.
“What an amazing idea, Zoe. Why didn’t we think of it?” Monica said innocently—the little scamp.
“I guess you’ve been preoccupied with mundane details like tent rentals.” Zoe waved her hand grandly. “Sometimes it takes a grownup to see the big picture.”
Poor Monica had to literally bite her lip to keep from protesting—Padric could see the white dent in her lower lip.
“You’re a genius,” she said reluctantly. “So, um, Mr. Jeffers, maybe you should consider Zoe’s great idea—”
“No, I’m sorry, but like I told your friend Joseph, I can’t sing anything unless my mind is at ease.” Pulling the diva performer card felt…weird, since it was so against his nature. He’d performed with a hundred-and-four-degree fever once. He’d performed on painkillers post-knee surgery. He’d never missed a show, not once—until he’d asked his manager to postpone the Scandinavian leg of his current tour. “Zoe, I need to know the truth, no matter how painful it is to share.”
Zoe looked appropriately confused. “Painful?”
“I can find you the best specialist in the world. We’ll fly him or her to Bali, along with a traveling massage therapist I know. I’ll bring a chef, too, so you don’t have to lift a finger to cook anything. Everything will be taken care of. You can rest and focus on your recovery.”
“My recovery…”
“Maybe you’ve just been working too much.”
“Right. I suppose it could be that.” Zoe looked under her lashes at her sisters. “I have been working a lot, haven’t I, girls?”
“We all have,” said Monica quickly. “It’s summer. Goes with the territory.”
“Then it’s settled!” Padric exclaimed, slapping a hand on the table. “Bali it is. I’ll call my travel agent and make all the arrangements.”
“But…Zoe’s idea…the festival…” The girls spluttered words like pellets from a BB gun.
“I wish we could wait until the festival, and I would love to make an appearance, but I don’t want to delay Zoe’s healing a minute longer than necessary. Right, Zoe?”
“Right. Healing comes first.”
“Let me call my assistant.” Padric pic
ked up his phone and scanned through his contacts. Did someone say “entourage”? He didn’t actually want to call any of his actual “entourage,” because doing so would cause an uproar. Instead, he landed on Nate’s number. Nate would get it. He would go with the flow and know what to say.
“Padric Jeffers here,” he said as soon as Nate answered. “I need two tickets to Bali, a villa, a personal chef willing to drop everything, like right away, same for a masseuse, and whatever other entourage-type people you can think of.”
“Hmm…personal on-call therapist?”
“Good. Put that on the list.”
“How about your own personal first responder, just in case?”
“Excellent. Good thinking. Got a list going? Great. I need you to do some research, too. I need the best specialist in the world on…” He glanced inquiringly at Zoe.
“Overworking,” she said promptly.
“Overworking,” he repeated to Nate.
“So, uh…I’m driving to a small brushfire at the moment. Are you almost done?”
“Almost. You got all that? Thanks, Cindy. You’re the best.”
“You need to introduce me to this Cindy.”
Padric hung up and brushed his hands together. “Now for a statement to the press.”
“Statement to the press?” Monica went even more pale. “What about?”
“Oh, my PR person will know how to spin it. ‘Padric Jeffers drops out of music to care for a childhood friend.’ Man, it’s really too bad about the festival. They could have done a press statement about that, too. Oh well.”
He shrugged and picked up his phone.
“Wait!” Monica jumped to her feet. “‘Drops out of music’? Seriously? Who would ever say that?”
“Like I said, she’ll spin it better.”
“No way, you’re making all of this up.” She snatched the phone from his hand and looked at his most recent call. “You called Nate!”
Busted. Still, Padric struggled to maintain the act. “He’s a good friend, Nate. He’s kind of my entourage here in Lost Harbor.”
Monica wheeled on Zoe, who wasn’t doing as good a job at hanging on to her poker face. “You guys are teasing us. You’re not going to Bali, are you?”
“I’m totally up for a trip to Bali,” Zoe said with as much of a straight face as she could manage—which wasn’t much. “I do work a lot and I could definitely use a break. At this rate, I really might get sick.”
Monica shut her eyes and seemed to utter a small prayer. Then she turned to Padric. “You know everything, don’t you?”
“Yup. Everything.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Let us explain.”
Zoe stood up and widened her arms in a “halt” gesture. “The least you can do is spare us the drama. If you wanted Padric to sing at your festival, why didn’t you just ask him?”
“Yeah, right!” Monica cried. “He hasn’t come back here in all those years, why would he do it for some dumb festival? He needed a better reason.”
“A better reason, like me being at death’s door?”
“We never said that,” Alexis interjected. “We never told any lies in our letter.”
“Right, if you think about it, we really just did him a favor by giving him a good excuse to come back.”
“Monica, you are really pushing it,” Zoe warned. “I’m starting to think I need to take this to Mama.”
“You can’t,” Monica said triumphantly. “She’ll flip out if she knows Padric is here.”
“Then what was your plan if Padric did agree to sing at the festival?” Zoe had her hands on her hips, eyes full of fire.
Padric grinned to himself with a sense of homecoming. The sight of a furious Zoe took him back to the days when Zoe would fight with her parents and the whole family would get involved. Everyone would air out all their grievances—allowance too small, too many chores, the sharing of rooms—and then it would be over and they’d all sit down to one of Mrs. Bellini’s amazing spanakopita meals.
“There’s no way Mama is going to come to a beach festival,” Monica scoffed. “You know she doesn’t like outdoor stuff. And she has the walker now. We already told her that we’ll record the good parts for her. The parts with us introducing bands and so forth. She hates our kind of music anyway.”
“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” Zoe demanded.
“We tried.” Alexis perched on the tabletop so she could be eye to eye with Padric. “Padric, we’re really sorry that we misled you.”
“Lied,” Zoe corrected.
“We never lied. But we did mislead and that’s pretty much the same thing.” She said that last bit under the eagle-eyed stare of Zoe. “It was wrong. We kind of knew it when we did it, but we hoped that you would forgive us because you’d be so happy to finally come home.”
She batted her eyelashes at him innocently.
“Aren’t you glad to be home?” Monica asked him.
Under the weight of their pleading gazes, Padric couldn’t quite bring himself to stay stern.
“I am glad to be back. But I’m not glad that I had to worry so much. That was definitely not cool. Imagine if someone did that to you— told you that your twin sister was sick, for instance.”
Shamefaced, they both muttered, “We’re really sorry.”
Zoe cut in. “No, no, it’s a lot more than that. You two messed with Padric’s life. You made him cancel his tour.”
“Postpone, and I do have nodes—” Padric tried to interrupt, but Zoe waved him off.
“No. They were thinking only of themselves, not of the thousands of people who would be affected. All those fans who bought tickets, all the other musicians, the crew members, roadies or whatever they’re called. You guys didn’t think of any of that, did you?”
Monica hung her head, and Alexis teared up—two pictures of mortification. “We didn’t,” Monica finally said. “We were being selfish.”
“I feel so bad now,” Alexis cried. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish we could take it back.”
“Me too,” Monica whispered. “It was my idea, so I’m even more sorry.”
Padric exchanged a glance with Zoe. Did the twins actually get it? Their regret seemed genuine, which was good enough for him. But he wasn’t their de facto parent.
Zoe held on to her stern, big-sister expression. “I gotta tell you guys, I’m very tempted to withdraw the pizza shop’s support for the festival.”
Both heads shot up in alarm.
“But Padric doesn’t want me to. I guess he’s a sucker for music festivals.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Alexis threw her arms around him, nearly toppling herself off the table. He met Zoe’s gaze over her shoulder and crinkled his forehead in a “what do we do now” expression.
“But now I have to figure out something else, because I can’t let this stand, and I can’t tell Mama. Any ideas?”
“We’ll work extra shifts!”
“For free!”
“Okay, done. That’s a start.”
“We’ll write ‘don’t lie to rock stars’ a hundred times on the blackboard at the Last Chance,” said Alexis.
“No, we’ll put it on a t-shirt and wear it to work,” Monica chimed in.
And they were off, riffing on ridiculous punishments.
“We’ll write it on the beach in rocks.”
“We’ll walk around with a scarlet PJ on our foreheads, for Padric.”
And just like that, Padric’s good humor vanished. The dark reality of kids maiming themselves with his initials rushed back, as if from another lifetime.
How had he managed to forget that nastiness in the short time he’d been here in Lost Harbor?
“That will definitely not be necessary,” he said stiffly. Everyone glanced at him with surprise at his sudden seriousness. “You guys figure it out. I gotta get going. Training shift at the fire department.”
He stepped away from the group and gave them an awkward little salute. The three Belli
nis watched him with expressions ranging from mystified to worried.
“So…about Zoe’s idea,” Monica began, until Zoe shushed her with a furious expression.
Never underestimate the determination of a teenager.
Those words echoed as he pushed open the door of the coffee shop and emerged onto the main street of Lost Harbor. Those teenagers putting marks on their skin…these teenagers dead-set on their festival.
So what about the teenaged Padric Jeffers? Where had his determination gone back when the Scandal erupted? Why hadn’t he done whatever he could to stay in touch with Zoe?
He hadn’t. Instead, he’d tried to forget her.
Footfalls behind him made him turn around. Zoe was jogging—okay, quickly ambling—to catch up with him.
“Are you okay?” she asked. For the first time since he’d returned, she was looking at him with concern instead of wariness. “What just happened?”
He looked at her, so lushly gorgeous with all that dark tumbling hair and those striking eyebrows and that full mouth, and understood why he’d never quite been able to manage the “forgetting” part.
“I fucked up,” he said abruptly. “Back then, after we moved. You should be angry at me.”
Chapter Seven
Startled, Zoe nearly tripped over an invisible crack in the sidewalk. Padric grabbed her arm to keep her from falling, but she waved him off. “Go on.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “You were really important to me.”
Past tense, noted. Her stomach dropped.
“You were important to me, too.” She kept her tone as even and neutral as she could. “What’s your point?”
“When we left…I was a mess. Dealing with my parents, the move, a new school. I had to get a job to help out with money. It was a lot. I had to shut everything out else out. I channeled everything into my music, and I shut you out. I got your messages, and I didn’t answer any of them. I’m sorry.”
She drew in a long breath, feeling a painful echo of that long-ago hurt. Had she really been so easy to forget?
“Things change. I get it.” She aimed for a nonchalant shrug.
Yours Since Yesterday Page 6
