by Kait Nolan
All of my life I’ve been playing a pathetic game. The confident, successful woman the world has come to know is all illusion. I’ve been scared, filled with self-loathing, and unsure every day I can remember. Lately it’s been harder and harder to maintain the facade. I’ve tried treatment, prescriptions, and counseling, but they never seem to mute or mitigate the feelings that burst up from a hole in me like a geyser of raw sewage. Pressure has mounted to the point I can’t seem to think of a way to release it, other than the path I’ve chosen.
Please remember. I chose this.
Remember I didn’t do this to hurt you or anyone else. I love you with all my heart, but you were always the stronger one. Look at all you’ve accomplished on your own. You are an amazing woman. One I am so proud to call my sister.
Forever your angel,
Lana
Shelby sat on the floor, clutching the letter to her heart, damning Lana and anyone who knew the terrible secret she’d kept locked away for so long. They had failed her. Everyone had failed her, and there was simply no reason for it. A beautiful light had gone out by her own hand, and it was as shocking as it was senseless. And tragic.
What if she had been heading to the hospital when the car crashed? What if she’d gotten there in time? Would she have decided to live and fight on, or would she have tried again until she’d managed to end it all?
So many questions and none of them had answers.
How did one go about healing from such pain? Knowing Lana loved her was the worst kind of bandage to place on the pain. Knowing her sister had lived in a miserable bubble hurt beyond anything Shelby could ever imagine.
She clutched the letter to her heart and let the grief come.
A week passed before Shelby could pretend to feel up to checking in at the bistro. Texts, voicemails, ringing doorbells had all gone unanswered. Her existence had come down to Chinese delivery and binge watching series on a streaming service. Her greatest form of recreation was staring at the walls, and listening to the hum of kitchen appliances. The only time she’d left her sofa was to answer the door and pay the delivery guy.
Helping or hurting, she had no idea. Only thing she knew was she was unfit to deal with human company at the moment and took her refuge in the brownstone. Dealing with the problems of fictional characters seemed a hell of a lot more promising than dealing with hers. Maybe with time and perspective she could get her head on straight again.
And Christ, she couldn’t deal with her own problems until she’d dealt with Lana’s.
The stages of grief had not come to her in any particular order. As a matter of fact she went from anger to denial back to anger with great frequency. Bargaining remained high on the list of activities, but she never really thought that one would work. Lana was gone. No amount of promises or recriminations would bring her back.
Lana’s letter remained close by, crumpled and creased. Every once in a while, Shelby would pick it up and press it to her lips. God she missed her sister so much.
Yes, she should have been there for her. Yes, she should have called or went home more often. If she had, maybe Lana would have felt loved and valued. How could she ever believe she’d been a fraud? She had been successful, talented, and beautiful. How exactly was that being a fraud? Confidence was what one projected to the world. As long as the world saw that and responded, did it matter if she felt insecure inside? Everyone felt degrees of insecurity at times. In the end, Lana had gotten the job done she’d set out to do, so her abilities spoke for themselves. She’d been anything but a fraud.
Shelby picked up the letter and ran her fingers over the carefully scripted letters of her name.
No way in hell was she going to lose another person she cared about to distance and infrequent calls. Until the only thing she had left was a letter to hold.
She scrambled off the couch, scattering a week’s worth of cardboard take-out containers. Where had she put her damn phone? Oh God the mess was unbelievable. No telling where it was hidden, and she didn’t own a land line to dial her phone to find it. Not that it would still have a charge anyway.
Finally she located it under a mountain of plastic bags and discarded Styrofoam. She pulled up the picture of the real estate sign in the window of the business on River Row. She dialed the number and waited.
“Suwannee Real Estate Group, how may I direct your call?”
“I’m inquiring about the property for lease on River Row.”
“Hold please.”
The line switched to an old pop music station that played ballads. The music was summarily depressing, the kind of thing people listened to after a bad break up. Shelby tried not to listen or sing along, but found it difficult.
“Hello, this is Race Montgomery. You’re interested in the property on the River Row?”
His sweet southern accent belied a shrewd business edge.
“I am. Is it still for lease?”
“Actually, it was let a few days ago. Is there any other property you might be interested in?” He gave a practiced laugh. “Let me back up. What is your name and what kind of a business are you thinking of opening?”
“Shelby Steele and a restaurant.”
There was a beat or two of silence, whether because of her name or him writing down the information, she hadn’t a clue.
“I see here you’re calling from an odd area code. Where are you?”
“New York. Look I already own a successful bistro in the City and want to open another business in Suwannee Grove. I have a great reputation locally.”
“Are you familiar with Suwannee Grove?”
Shelby wanted to laugh. Finally someone who didn’t know her or her family. “The water. I want something near the water.”
The unmistakable sound of computer keys clacking in the background filtered through the phone. “I have a few. One that is going to need quite a bit of work, but the price is right.”
“Send me what you’ve got and I’ll look them over.” She gave Race her email address and talked for a few more minutes before hanging up.
A lot of plans had to be made before she flew back to Suwannee Grove. A virtual mountain of them.
Never again was she going to let those who depended on her languish because she needed to run from her problems, or because things were too tough. She was going to put on her big girl panties and face things head-on.
Mostly, she was going to walk into her future with her arms and heart wide open.
Epilogue
Three months later…
The building had good bones, but needed a lot of repairs. Sitting out on the lake like this would be a great draw for the lunch and dinner crowds.
Dallas looked down at his phone. 12:01. The new owners were late. No matter. He’d take a walk around the place and start making a list.
He went around to the back of the property and was struck with sudden inspiration. If the owners wanted to up the seating area and romantic appeal of the place, they could accomplish both by adding a deck. Outdoor seating on a nice evening would be a great focal point. From this position, the diners might be able to see the boats when Suwannee Grove hosted the regional regatta. There were other festivities during the year that happened on the lake that gave this particular location a lot of possibilities.
He heard a car pull up out front. Eager to meet his potential client, he strode toward the sound. Then stalled when Shelby got out of the car.
Breath stopped coming freely. His heart beat in overdrive. She’d never told him she was coming home.
She casually walked up to him, briefcase in hand. “You look surprised.”
“Stunned.” God, he wanted to kiss her. Hold her. His arms and heart ached. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I believe we have an appointment.” She took out her phone and winced at the time. “Ten minutes ago.”
“You’re my client?” Heat stained his cheeks. “Potential client?”
Hers had not been the name on the inq
uiry form on his website.
“I am your client. Now what are you going to do for me?”
“You haven’t even heard my ideas.” Normally, the client told him what they wanted and he did it, provided what they wanted posed no safety risks.
“Don’t need to.”
“You might be sorry.”
“Why?”
“I want to build a deck out back.”
“I love it. Keep going.” Shelby sat her briefcase down and leaned into him. “Do I get a hello kiss?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” Her smile was radiant. Happiness flowed from her like he hadn’t seen in too many years to count.
He brushed the hair from her forehead. “If you plan to stay or if this is only an investment property.”
“The last three months have been rough. I’m not going to deny that. Lana’s suicide, grieving for her, beating myself up for not being there for her when she needed me, everything. Then Jacintha naming me her heir, willing me the farm. Then there’s you. It all kept rattling around inside my head. I realized I can’t change what Lana did. It happened. It was a wakeup call for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love New York. I’m keeping my business there and letting my manager run it, but…well, I love you more. I always have and I always will. This town, these people, they are who I am. I just needed to remember that.”
Dallas framed her face with his hands, seeing his life spread before him in her eyes. “I’m glad you did.”
She leaned up and kissed him, long and lingering. When she pulled away she slid her arm through his. “Now about that deck.”
A Note From Kate
Kate Davison writes contemporary romances with a twist from her sunny living room in Florida. You can find her most days at KateDavisonRomances.wordpress.com or at Facebook as MK Mancos and on Twitter @MKMancosKScott.
Look for the next installment of the Suwannee Grove series titled The Away Game, coming later this year.
