Her lips tipped up. “With enough sugar and cream, it might as well be a milkshake.”
I chuckled. “Always did like those sweets.”
“Some things never change.” She headed back to the kitchen.
I grabbed napkins from behind the bar and pulled the muffins out of the sack as she reemerged. “You working on inventory?”
“Yes.” She groaned as she hopped up on a stool and set down our mugs. “It’s the bane of my existence.”
“Well, good thing I’m here. It goes a heck of a lot smoother with help.”
Bell bit into her muffin and moaned. I averted my eyes. “These are too good. I have a mental deal with myself. I’m only allowed to go into The Mad Baker twice a week. I always fail.”
I laughed and took a bite of my muffin. It was even better than I remembered. “God, I missed these.”
Bell shifted in her seat and said nothing. What could she say? That it was my own damn fault I missed them? That it served me right? I changed the subject. “What do you think about having auditions for bands next week? I can put an ad in the paper, maybe online somewhere?”
Bell took a sip of her coffee. “Sounds good. We should put some flyers up around town, too.”
“Great idea.” Silence filled the space around us. I broke off a piece of my muffin. “What’s your favorite movie?”
Bell cocked her head to the side, her lips fluttering as if she were holding in a laugh. “Random much?”
I shrugged. “We’re starting fresh, gotta ask you questions if I’m going to get to know this Bell person.” I raised an eyebrow. “She seems like kind of a shady character, but her movie preferences might change that.”
Bell chuckled. “The Princess Bride.” Same as it had always been. There was something comforting about that. We might be different people, but there were parts of us that were the same, that recognized each other. “What about you?”
“Die Hard.”
“The best Christmas movie ever.”
I twisted in my seat to face her. “Yes! Why do people argue that it’s not a Christmas movie?”
She grinned. “I watch it every year.”
My mind filled with an image of Bell curled up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and blankets, eating Christmas cookies and watching Bruce Willis kick some serious ass. In that moment, I realized I didn’t know what her Christmases looked like at all. I knew every detail of what their celebrations had looked like before, from the Kipton family Christmas party, to Violet and Bell’s gingerbread house decorating, to how their parents used to hang Vi’s and Bell’s stockings on the ends of their beds. But it seemed like Bell had little to no relationship with her parents these days.
I hated the thought of her being lonely on a day that she’d always loved. Guilt crept back into me at the idea that it might be my fault. I cleared my throat. “What are your other Christmas traditions?”
There was no hint of sadness in her expression. Instead, her smile grew wider, twisting something in the cavity of my chest. “The Christmas Eve parade through town, of course. Kenna and I have a sleepover at Caelyn’s. We all bring sleeping bags out into the living room and camp out by the tree. The kids love it. In the morning, we exchange gifts, and Caelyn makes a feast that would make the White House jealous.”
“That sounds like a perfect Christmas.”
Bell’s smile turned gentle. “It is.” She took another sip of her coffee. “What about you? Your family goes to LA, right?”
It had never bothered me before, asking my family to come to LA or some other destination for the holidays. But now, being back on Anchor, seeing all that I’d taken my parents and brother away from on Christmas, I felt like a selfish ass. “Yeah. I usually fly them down there, or sometimes we do Hawaii or Mexico.”
Bell’s face screwed up in an adorable scrunch. “It just seems wrong to be in a bathing suit on Christmas.”
I laughed. “The poolside margaritas make it worth it.”
“Give me my hot cocoa and freezing cold beach walks any day.”
A sharp pang lanced through my chest. I missed those. Especially when I went with Trouble. She was always on the hunt for some sort of treasure: sea glass, a unique shell, a piece of driftwood in a cool shape. We’d lose ourselves on the beach for hours. Vi never wanted to go on those treks once the weather had turned. She’d always been delicate and, it seemed, too fragile for this world.
I blinked back to the present. Bell stared at me with a look of concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just…lost in memories, I guess.”
Bell laid a hand gently over mine. It was the first time she had voluntarily touched me, the first time she had reached out. The warmth that filled her flowed into my hand. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped herself. She squeezed my hand and stood. “Thank you for the muffin.”
“Anytime.” I watched as she walked away, feeling the divide between us expand with each step she took. I hated every inch of distance.
12
Bell
I crouched down, running my hands over the worn wood of the credenza. It needed some serious TLC, but I could give it that. As I stared at the piece, I could imagine it coming back to life before my eyes. Sanding it, replacing broken cabinet pulls. Maybe I’d paint it teal. That was the perfect color for this piece.
“Isabelle?”
I jerked at the sound of the name that no longer felt like mine. I stood up, wincing. “Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?” Garage sales weren’t exactly my mother’s typical haunts. They were one of my safe zones. I’d become a master at determining those areas on my tiny island over the past few years. Become skilled at avoiding any potential run-ins with my parents.
She smoothed invisible wrinkles in her windbreaker. “I’m just out for my morning walk.” She glanced over at the array of goods on the Perkins’ lawn. “What are you doing here? Does your job pay so little that you have to purchase other people’s castoffs?”
My back teeth ground together. “You never know what treasures you can find at a garage sale.”
My mom scrunched up her nose as if she smelled something especially rancid. “I hope you’re not thinking of putting that piece in your little apartment.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s not your concern.”
Her spine straightened. “You’ll always be my concern, Isabelle.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why? It’s your name.”
“I’ve told you repeatedly, I prefer Bell.” But she’d never acquiesced to my requests, just kept right on calling me Isabelle. My father had stopped saying my name altogether, as if by doing so, he wouldn’t have to anger my mother or me. But it just made me painfully sad.
“I named you. And I didn’t name you after something you find in a church steeple or on a bike’s handlebars. I named you Isabelle, which is a beautiful name. I don’t understand why you don’t want to use it.”
“I’ve explained it to you many times, you just don’t want to hear it.” I kept my voice gentle, even though I was feeling anything but. I’d told my parents that I felt like I needed a fresh start. Asked them to call me Bell instead of Isabelle. Even broke down in tears when I explained why. It had gotten me nowhere with her.
My mother huffed. “It’s just childish.”
“Fine, Mom. I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you around. Tell Dad I said hi.”
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
She tugged on the tie of her windbreaker. “Have you heard that Ford Hardy has returned?”
I kept my face a carefully blank mask, not giving away a single hint that her question sent me back more than a decade. To a time when she’d told me that Ford had left and wanted nothing to do with me. I hadn’t believed her, but my unanswered calls and unreturned text messages had proven me wrong. I met my mother’s stare. “Yes.”
“You will not see that boy, Isabelle.”
I let out a strangled laugh,
but the sound was ugly and twisted. “Whatever you want, Mother.” I turned and made a beeline for Laney Perkins, ignoring the sound of outrage my mother made as I went. She had no control over me any longer.
“Hey, Bell. How are you?”
“Good, Laney. How much are you asking for the credenza over there?”
Laney winced. “That thing has been sitting in our garage for almost ten years. I should be paying you to take it off my hands.”
I grinned, but it wobbled a bit, still not quite able to shake off my mother’s words. “How about ten bucks, and I’ll come back in an hour or two with a truck?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal. Can’t wait to see what you turn it into.”
“Hopefully, I can make it beautiful. See you a little later.”
I took off down the street, abandoning my car and choosing to go on foot. The Hardys were just a couple of blocks away, and I hoped I could sweet-talk Frank into letting me borrow his truck to get the credenza back to the workshop behind The Catch. There was a slight pang in my chest at the thought. I used to bribe Frank to help me load and unload whatever furniture piece I’d purchased, but since his stroke, he just wasn’t stable enough. But he was getting stronger every day, and I had to hold on to that fact.
I jogged up the familiar brick path and rang the doorbell. The door swung open, and Kara beamed at me. “Bell! Get in here. You have been far too absent from this home lately.”
I stepped inside and into Kara’s warm embrace. “Sorry, Kara, things have just been crazy.”
“I can only imagine.” She kept a hold of me, whispering into my ear. “I didn’t know he was coming home. I wouldn’t have stopped it, because Lord knows I want my boy as close as I can have him, but I would’ve given you a heads-up so you could prepare.”
Her surprise confession had me sucking in a pained breath. This woman knew me so well. Understood that I’d be hurting, might have even felt betrayed. But, of course, she hadn’t known. She was too kind, too empathetic, to let something like that come to pass without talking to me. “Thanks, Mama K.” I hadn’t called her that in years, but it seemed fitting now. “I’m glad you have him back.”
I was happy for her. She’d been without Ford close for too many years. There was a fluttering in my chest, a hint of longing. The knowledge that I wanted Ford back in my life, as well. But I was too damn scared to reach for it.
Kara released her hug but held on to my shoulders. “Love you as if you were my own, Bell.”
My voice hitched. “Love you, too.”
“What’s all this blubbering and fussing going on out here?” Frank asked as he emerged from the living room.
Kara waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, hush, you. We’re just telling each other how much we love each other.”
Frank rolled his eyes heavenward but wisely said nothing about our teary expressions. He turned back to me. “You here for me to whip you in gin rummy for the millionth time?”
I laughed and cracked my knuckles. “I wouldn’t mind a round or two, but I really came to see if I could bribe you out of your truck for about an hour.”
Frank’s expression brightened. “You find a new piece?”
“I did. A credenza at a garage sale a few blocks over. Gonna need a lot of work. Maybe you can come by the shop next week and hear my plan of attack.”
Frank rubbed his hands together. “I’d love to. I’m going batty cooped up over here.”
Kara cleared her throat. “Excuse me?” I couldn’t hold in my laughter. Frank was going to get it for that comment.
“Love you more than life, sweetheart. But I’m gonna go crazy if you keep me locked up much longer.”
Kara huffed, but her expression gentled, and she gave him a quick kiss. “You’re lucky I love you, and that I’m willing to drive you over to The Catch next week.”
“You’re the light of my life.” Kara scoffed, and Frank chuckled. “Come on, Bell. School me in a couple of hands of gin rummy, and then I’ll toss you the keys to the truck.”
I followed Frank into the living room. He settled in his recliner, and I sat on the couch. I slid out one of those tv trays that hid beside the sofa and set it up. We’d played countless hands of rummy on this tray as soon as Frank had been well enough to spend his days in the recliner instead of in bed.
“So…” Frank started as he shuffled the deck of cards.
“Yes?”
“How are things going at The Catch?”
A stiffness I couldn’t seem to fight invaded my muscles. “It’s going well. Ford has some good ideas.”
Frank began dealing out cards. “That’s good. He treating you okay?”
“He’s the perfect gentleman.” He had been. I had been the one trying my best to keep him at arm’s length. It wasn’t fair, I knew it, but it was the only defense I had.
“Good. Now, I’m not going to be the perfect gentleman.” Frank grinned, a wicked one so similar to his son’s. “Prepare to be trounced!”
We lost ourselves in round after round of gin rummy, laughing until my stomach hurt and just enjoying the trash talk and reminiscing. The time flew by. I glanced up from my cards and peeked at the clock on the wall. “Okay, old man, this has to be my last hand.”
“She’s calling me old, that means she doesn’t have squat.”
I laughed as I lifted a card from the draw pile. My mouth formed a smirk as I slowly stood.
Frank’s face fell. “Oh, don’t you dare.”
With a dramatic flourish, I flipped the cards over to reveal three queens. “Gin.”
“You card shark,” he accused. I began my very elaborate victory dance that included my version of the running man and some lassoing moves above my head. “You know, it’s not polite to shove your victory in the loser’s face.”
As I started to laugh, a throat cleared from the entryway, and I whirled around. Ford leaned against the wall, a smile that seemed to be holding back a laugh spread across his face. He wore a navy sweater that hugged those broad shoulders and defined chest, and dark-wash jeans that clung to muscular thighs. I swallowed hard. “Hi.” The greeting came out as a squeak.
“That was some victory dance there.”
My cheeks heated. “Gotta celebrate the wins in life.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”
I shuffled my feet. “Well, I better get going.” I turned back to Frank. “Thanks again for letting me borrow your truck.”
Frank stood and tossed his keys to Ford. “Why don’t you drive Bell? You can help her get the credenza in and out of the pickup.”
My eyes narrowed on Frank. “I was going to call Kenna to help me.”
“But Ford’s right here. So, why bother Kenna?”
Ford eyed me cautiously. “I’m happy to help.”
My gaze jumped around the room, looking for some invisible excuse, a way of escape. There was nothing. “All right. Thank you.”
Ford chuckled. “You sound like I just offered to give you a root canal with no Novocain.”
I scowled at him. “I just don’t want you to have to go out of your way on your morning off.”
“Bell.” Ford took a few steps towards me. “I want to help. Let me.”
I swallowed the emotion gathering at the back of my throat. So many different things swimming around, and that damn longing strongest of all. I wanted nothing more than to hurl myself at Ford, to have him wrap me in his arms and tell me that everything would be okay. I straightened my spine. I didn’t need that. I’d made everything okay without him. I didn’t need him now.
“Let’s go.” My tone was clipped, cold, but it couldn’t be helped.
Ford led the way out of his childhood home. I looked back to give Frank a wave and saw a look of worry etched along the lines of his face. Crap. I didn’t want to put any added stress on the man’s shoulders, that was the last thing he needed. I forced a smile and then turned to the driveway.
Ford beeped the locks on his dad’s truck. “So, where�
�s this furniture we’re picking up?”
“Just a couple of blocks away. On Cedar.” I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled myself in.
The trip to the Perkins’ house was silent, the quiet making the drive seem twice as long. Each second made my skin itch a little bit more. I hated the way things were, it felt wrong and unnatural, but I had no way to fix it. I think that’s why I loved bringing these old pieces back to life. There was so much in this world we had no control over, things, people, and relationships that were shattered beyond repair. But these forgotten tables, dressers, chairs…those I could fix, those I could give a second chance.
Ford pulled the truck to a stop in front of the Perkins’ house. “Is that it?” He inclined his head to the credenza with a Sold sign on it.
“Yup.” I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door handle.
His brows pulled together. “It, uh, looks a little worse for wear. What are you going to do with it?”
I felt too vulnerable telling Ford about the thing I loved to do most in this world. It was too personal, too intimate. Sharing my favorite movies and holiday traditions was fine, but I needed limits, boundaries. They would keep me safe when Ford bounced back to LA. “I’m just grabbing it for a friend.”
Ford eyed me as if he didn’t believe a word I’d said but shrugged. “All right, then. Let’s get it loaded up.”
Between the two of us, lifting it into the bed of the truck wasn’t too bad. Frank had some rope in the cab that we used to secure the credenza, and then we were off. Five minutes later, we were pulling into the parking lot at The Catch.
I unbuckled my seat belt. “Let me grab a dolly from the shop, and I’ll be right back.” I jogged towards the large shed that sat on the edge of the parking lot. Just a handful of steps away from Ford, and I could breathe easier. It was as though the weights that had been sitting on my lungs had finally lifted.
Reckless Memories Page 8
