The Path

by Tawdra Kandle

  I snorted. “Let me tell you, this guy’s just lucky I didn’t have anything handy to throw at him. I’m Irish, you know. We tend to get violent when we lose our tempers.”

  Emmy laughed. “Abby, you’re probably one of the most even-tempered people I know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you break a sweat or raise your voice, even when you were arguing with the handyman at the Hawthorne.” She folded the bar towel and draped it over a hook behind the bar. “Ryland must’ve really hit a nerve to get you so worked up.”

  “Oh, you have no idea, Emmy. You don’t know the man, but he’s condescending and frustrating and rude.”

  “Actually, I’ve met him. I was dropping off pies last week when he was here to talk with Jude and Logan.” She leaned a hip against the counter that ran the length of the kitchen. “He seemed okay to me.”

  “Hmph.” I used one finger to inch the wine glass a little bit away from me. “Can you pour me some more, please? Just add it to my tab.”

  Emmy retrieved my favorite Pinot Grigio from the wine rack and uncorked it. “Sure you want a second glass? You’ve got a long walk home, don’t forget.” She winked at me.

  Even as mad as I still was, I couldn’t help a smirk. “Yeah, good point. I mean, getting across the restaurant would be tough enough, but navigating the fourteen steps up to the apartment? That’s a killer. Maybe I should stop at one.”

  “Oh, live a little. If you’re too sloshed to make it upstairs, I’ll enlist some hot guy to toss you over his shoulder and carry you up.”

  I held the refilled glass between my fingers, taking a sip. “That’s just what I need. A guy to complicate my life.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you do. You know, just a one-night thing. A hook-up, like the kids say.” She grinned at me. “That’s what I did, and I’m telling you, it was life-changing.”

  “Of course it was, because you hooked up with Cooper, and it ended up being more than one night, didn’t it?”

  Emmy’s face took on a rosy glow, and her smile shifted to dreamy. “Yeah, good point. But still, I highly recommend it.” She leaned her elbows on the bar and dropped her voice. “Best sex of my life. Up to that point, of course. Since then, it’s only gotten better.”

  I groaned. “Oh, would you shut up about the sex? It’s not nice to brag about the gourmet meals you’re eating when you’re talking to a woman who’s on the verge of starvation.”

  “That’s a choice, Ab. You don’t have to be starving. All you’d have to do is crook your finger and you’d have guys running.”

  “Away from me?”

  Emmy rolled her eyes. “Smartass. Maybe swarming is the better word. Yeah, you’d have the guys swarming around you, like the drones around the queen bee.”

  I considered for a minute. “You know, that’s a surprisingly accurate metaphor, since drones are the bees whose job is to mate with the queen. Well done.”

  “Izzy just finished a science project on the behavior of bees.” Emmy shrugged. “Fascinating stuff. Cooper helped with it, too, and now the two of them are trying to talk me into keeping bees.”

  “Just what you need.” I took another taste of my wine. “How’s it going, by the way? Cooper living with you, I mean.”

  “So far, so good.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I mean, it’s only been a month. But I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall, you know? For my kids to annoy Cooper, or him to yell at them, or something like that. But they seem to be okay. Lex came down last weekend and stayed with us, and I thought that might be awkward, but it wasn’t. It was actually fun to have everyone together. They all made breakfast for me on Saturday morning, and Izzy thinks she finally has a big sister.”

  “I’m so glad for you, Em.” My eyes got a little misty. If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was my friend. She’d gotten married young and had three kids before her loser husband ran off to find better surfing. A lesser woman might’ve fallen apart, but Emmy Carter was not that woman. She’d opened her own pie business, taken on the job of weekend night manager here at the Riptide and managed to keep her family afloat. She and Cooper had been friends for a while before they’d finally given into a one-night fling that had turned into love.

  “I’m glad for me, too.” She picked up a plate of nachos that the cook had slid through the kitchen pass-between. I watched as she delivered them to a couple down the bar, laughed at something they said to her and returned to me. “And maybe it’s because I’m happy and in love and all that disgusting shit, but I want to see you find someone, too.”

  “Good luck.” I centered the bottom of my wine glass in the dead middle of the small white cocktail napkin beneath it and turned it in slow circles. “I’m pretty sure I’m destined for spinsterhood, Em.”

  “Bull. You’re young, you’re gorgeous, and you’re smart. Guys are always checking you out.”

  I almost choked on my wine. “Oh, sure they are. I appreciate the sentiment, Emmy, but I know the score. I’m not exactly swimming in offers.”

  My friend’s eyes clouded. “If that’s true, it’s only because you don’t want them. And when a woman’s closed-off like that, it shows. It’s sort of a hands-off vibe. I’ve seen you when we go out, and it’s as if a wall goes up. You’re not the same fun girl I hang out with at the Hawthorne or at my house.”

  A weight settled in my chest. “I know. And honestly, I haven’t been looking for a relationship or even just a hook-up. My work has to come first right now. It’s the one thing I can depend on. I nearly forgot that once, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

  Emmy refilled a bowl of nuts and slid it across to me. “Abby, you know I don’t pry. I get that some things are private, and I’ve never pushed you to tell me all your secrets. But I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as though she wasn’t sure what to say next. “This is going to sound corny, but you really are my best friend. I didn’t have many girlfriends growing up. When I was a kid, sure, but once we hit high school and I started dating Eddy, I didn’t have time for anyone but him. Then I was married and had the kids, and . . . well, you know what came next. But now I have you and Jude. I love Jude, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like you and I connected when we met. I tell you everything—”

  “Hmph.” I couldn’t help interrupting her there. “Funny, I don’t remember the long talks we had about you and Cooper when you first started to see each other last spring.”

  Emmy had the good grace to look sheepish. “You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but then I thought Jude was trying to fix you up with him, and I didn’t want it to get weird between us. And I didn’t know what was happening, either. I thought it was just a one-time thing.”

  “You still could’ve told me.” It had stung, I had to admit. I hadn’t thought it would. But when Jude had confided in me months before that she’d seen Cooper’s car at Emmy’s house in the early-morning hours on a Saturday and shared her suspicions about the two of them, my first thought had been laced with hurt. Emmy and I had often commiserated about our singleness and lack-of-sex life, so the idea that she was getting some while still playing the woe-is-me card made me feel a little betrayed.

  “I know, and I should have. I’m sorry. My only excuse is that I’m still new at the friend deal. I didn’t tell anyone, not even my mom.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would. I mean, I know you’re pretty close to your mom, and she’s totally cool, but I still wouldn’t call her and share about the hot sex I was having.” I shuddered at the thought. There were lines, and then there were lines.

  “True. My mom and dad adore Cooper, and they’re happy for me, but I think they’re still having trouble adjusting to the idea that he’s living with their little girl. Mom’s been dropping some not-so-subtle hints about us getting married.”

  “Do you think you will?” I knew Cooper was gun-shy about marriage, having been twice divorced.

  Emmy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ve t
alked about it a little, but nothing definite. Izzy keeps asking me, but I think it’s a combination of wanting to be a bridesmaid and maybe . . .” One side of her mouth twisted into a sort-of smile. “Maybe feeling like marriage would make this permanent. Sometimes I forget that Eddy skipping out affected them, too. He wasn’t that great a dad, but he was still there. Mostly. And then he wasn’t. I think my kids want to make sure Cooper’s not going to do the same.”

  “He wouldn’t. He’s stupid in love with you, and he adores your kids, too. When I see you all together, I’m never sure if I want to cry or puke a little, it’s so sweet.”

  “Aw, Ab, stop it with the gooey talk. You’re going to make me cry.” Emmy laughed. “Okay, kiddo, looks like Gritt’s about ready to kick off the night. You want anything else before it gets loud and crazy in here?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. I’m going to drag myself upstairs, take a long bath and go to bed.”

  “Does the noise down here bother you?” Emmy’s forehead wrinkled.

  “If I say yes, are you going to make them all be quiet?” I slid off the barstool. “Nah. I’ll just put in my earbuds and crank up some of my own music. And once I fall asleep, I’m dead to the world.”

  “Must be strange, living up there after the cute little apartment you had at the B&B.”

  I lifted one shoulder. “I’m used to moving every other year or so. It’s the life of a hotelier. Plus, this is temporary. Once we get the Riverside back in shape and all beautiful, I’ll have my own personal suite right on site. I can’t wait.” Thinking of that brought back my earlier encounter with the contractor. Oh, wait—the restoration specialist. “That is, if I don’t end up killing that renovations guy and going to prison.”

  The DJ chose that moment to open up his mic. “Goooooood evening, Crystal Cove! Welcome to Friday night at the Tiiiiiiiide!”

  The crowd on the dance floor had swelled while I was sulking at the bar. They roared their approval at Gritt’s welcome as he cranked up the volume on an oldie-but-goody—Bobby Rydell, singing about Wildwood Days. I smiled; although I’d lived all over the world growing up, I still considered Philadelphia my home city, and I’d spent a fair amount of time on the boardwalk in Wildwood. This song brought back memories.

  “Night, Em!” I mouthed the words and waved.

  She held up a finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and skirted the bar to come around to me. She hesitated only a minute before wrapping me in a totally-uncharacteristic-for-us hug. “Abby, I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about Cooper earlier. And I promise, I won’t keep that kind of secret again. I just want you to know that you can talk to me. About anything.” She pointed to the ceiling, grinning. “Now that you’re living upstairs, I’ll be like your own personal bartender. Add that to being your friend, and I’m the perfect listening ear.”

  I patted her arm. “Thanks, Emmy. I’ll keep that in mind.” I managed a smile. “Have a good night tonight. If you need anything, just call or . . . I don’t know, knock three times on the ceiling or something.”

  “Will do. Good night, Ab.”

  When I’d told Emmy that the music and noise from the bar downstairs wouldn’t bother me, it was all conjecture. This was actually my first weekend living here above the Riptide. The restaurant closed at five Sundays through Thursdays, so tonight would be the test; on Fridays and Saturdays, under Emmy’s management, the busy beachfront diner morphed into the most popular dance club in the area.

  Moving up here had made sense. When Jude and Logan first approached me a few months back about taking on management of their new venture at the Riverside, I’d jumped at the opportunity. I loved the Hawthorne House; it had been the perfect place for me to both recover after the debacle in Boston and to spread my wings a little. For the first time, I’d been in charge. Yes, Jude and Logan were the owners, but they trusted me. I made the day-to-day decisions, kept everything running and turned that sweet little house into a bed-and-breakfast that was booked six months out. Hawthorne House gave me back confidence I’d feared was gone forever and helped me find a measure of peace.

  But after two years, I was getting restless. I didn’t want to leave Crystal Cove; I’d made friends and built up a small community of people I liked and trusted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for growth or change at the B&B. My only options were moving or staying. Neither felt exactly right.

  So when Jude came into the kitchen at the Hawthorne, raving about the old hotel she’d spotted from the river, my heart had leaped. I hadn’t said anything right away, but I hadn’t had to. Jude and Logan told me that they wanted me to consider not only running the place, but making it my own. I could oversee all the repairs and renovations. I’d work with Logan on the plans, tossing out to him my wildest ideas and figuring out what made sense, what didn’t. Best of all, taking on the Riverside meant I could stay in Crystal Cove. Indefinitely.

  In other words, it was my dream come true.

  The only fly in the ointment was timing. Logan felt that I needed to focus solely on the Riverside even before it was open. The process of putting together a resort like this was involved; not only would I be in charge of making decisions about design and the physical building, I also had to coordinate the interior decoration, all the details of the spa and restaurant, the website, the point of sale computers . . . it was mind boggling. Clearly I wouldn’t be doing all of that personally, but I was still the one in charge. Trying to run the Hawthorne while I was knee-deep in the Riverside prep just wasn’t practical.

  So while I was reluctant to give up the sweet yellow house on the main drag in the Cove, I had to agree that their plan made sense. When I’d met Alex and Cal, I felt even better. From the minute they stepped into the B&B, I knew they belonged there. As soon as the two of them agreed to take over, everything began to move fast. Suddenly, they were talking about re-doing the small set of rooms that had been my home for the past two years and making plans to move to Florida. As I listened to Alex and Cal over dinner at Jude and Logan’s home, my face must’ve reflected the panic I was feeling.

  Jude leaned over, smiling as she sipped her wine. “Abby, don’t worry. We’ve thought about this. Logan and I wondered if you might want to move into the apartment above the Tide—temporarily, of course. When the Riverside is ready, you can have your own space there. But for the time being, would you mind living over the shop, so to speak?”

  I’d seen the small apartment a few times. I knew a little about its history: Jude’s grandparents had put it in above their beach-front eatery. Generations of the family had lived there at one time or another, including Jude and her late husband Daniel after they were first married. When their son Joseph had found himself with an unexpected wife and baby a few years ago, he and his wife Lindsay had moved upstairs and taken over some of the management of the Riptide.

  Now that Jude was married to Logan and living in his beautiful home, Joseph, Lindsay and their two little ones had moved into Jude’s old house. That left the apartment empty just in time for me to move in.

  It wasn’t anything grand. There was a tiny living room with an ancient sofa and scarred coffee table, a miniscule kitchen, and a bedroom that looked out over the ocean and had an attached bath. Luckily for me, I’d grown up in compact spaces; the suites my family had occupied at various hotels throughout the country were elegant and opulent, but huge they were not. I knew I could make this space work.

  I hadn’t thought about the Friday and Saturday nights when I’d agreed to stay here, though. And just as Emmy had warned me, it was loud. The wooden floor vibrated beneath my feet, and I could hear Gritt’s voice as though he was standing next to me. Laughter and the sound of clinking glasses drifted up the steps. And although there were easily a hundred people just below me, I felt inexplicably and suddenly lonely.

  Being alone wasn’t something I dreaded. I’d been a solitary child; even after my sister was born when I was seven, she and I had tended to co-exist peacefully and separately. Jessic
a was more of a chatterbox than I was, but she rarely bothered me. Instead, I’d hear her talking to the staff, to housekeeping or to anyone else who’d listen.

  And then when I was thirteen and Jess was six, my parents had very suddenly divorced. It was civilized, like everything else in our lives. One afternoon, my mother asked us to come into the dining room of our suite. We were living in San Francisco at the time; I remembered looking out over the fog-shrouded skyline as my father spoke.

  He told us that he and my mother had decided they would both be happier living apart. Mom was tired of moving from city to city every few years. She was buying a house here in California, and Jess and I would stay with her.

  “But you’ll come to me on school holidays, and we’ll have fun then.” No matter how many places we’d lived and how long it had been since he’d left his homeland, my dad always carried a bit of Ireland in his voice. He glanced at my sister and me, and I detected a glimmer of uncertainty and perhaps even regret in his green eyes.

  It was that flash of emotion, that small moment, that made up my mind. I turned to face my mother, who’d remained seated at the head of the table as my father paced around the room, talking.

  “I don’t want to stay in California.”

  She frowned and brushed her blonde hair out of her face. “Abby, what do you mean? You love California. And wait until you see the house I’ve found for us. It’s near the beach, so you’ll like that, and you and Jess can go to the same school until you graduate. You can make friends.”

  “I have friends.”

  “Friends you won’t have to leave after two years. You don’t know how much you’re going to enjoy that.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to stay here instead of moving. I don’t want to leave Daddy.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Silence fell on the room. Jess glanced from our mother to me, confusion etched on her face. My dad leaned on a chair, clutching the gleaming wood until his knuckles whitened. He looked at me steadily, but I couldn’t read his eyes.