by Jill Jaynes
He rocked back, momentarily stunned by her accusation.
“You had every chance to tell me what was going on. That this high and mighty commission that you’re chairman of, was going to stop the sale of my house, but you didn’t.”
“Patrice, I—”
“You lied. You lied to me and took advantage of me, too.”
“Patrice, it wasn’t like that. I—”
“Get out.”
Her words, tinged with venom, slapped him.
“Get out. I never want to see or hear from you again.” Her face contorted and turned red. JB opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn’t know what to say and so it was better not to say anything.e
He pulled open the kitchen door, ready to turn around, ready to go back and comfort her, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t even pet Dante who was perched on the kitchen counter looking regal and dignified. JB just stepped out into the night and closed the kitchen door quietly behind him. His shoes crunched on the sand-spewed bricks. The image of Patrice’s face was still freshly imprinted on his mind. He drove back into town in a daze, trying to regain a bit of control so not to upset Aurora. But the pain lingered, as if she had punched him and punched him hard, because he knew in the depth of his heart that what she said was true. He had lied to her. He had lied to the one and only woman he had ever truly loved.
* * *
Patrice flopped down, digging her toes into the wet sand. In JB’s company, the sand was inviting and somewhat invigorating on her bare feet. Now it was cold, gritty, and annoying. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her feet up to her ankles. The sun would be up soon. The eastern sky just above the rocks was already glowing pink, announcing the new day. On the other side of the rocks, was where she had had sex with JB. The memory of his body under her warmed her from the inside out. She let out a long breath. She and JB were over, over before it really began. She stared out into the dark ocean, trying to organize her chaotic thoughts.
Could she go back to L.A.? And to what? A paltry client list, a cramped apartment? The thought of trying to re-ignite her career filled her with dread. She knew she was good at what she did, but women her age weren’t honored in Hollywood.
Grabbing a handful of sand, she let it slowly fall from her grasp. Her meager savings weren’t going to go very far. Her future was as obscure as the night still clinging to the western sky.
Moving her feet back and forth, she knew she couldn’t go back to L.A. Hustling for work, trying to revive her faltering career wasn’t an option.
Selling the house was the only solution. However, how would she be able to attract another buyer with the commission restrictions?
She dropped her head into her hands, just as her tears filled her eyes and ran down her face. Her body shook with her sobs as her despair crashed over her.
The sun broke over the rocky ridge, burning away the vestiges of the night. Patrice rolled over, sitting up. She had shed her last tear sometime earlier and was too spent to return to Debra’s house; she had simply lain down in the sand.
The beach drenched in the morning light, was vibrant. Gone were the murky shadows that lurked amongst the outcrops of rocks. The only remnant of the night was the coldness that still hung in the air. Patrice breathed deeply, filling her lungs, surprised to discover that her anger and frustration had dissipated in the morning light. She only felt renewed eagerness to figure out how to deal with the house.
Debra’s house.
Why had Debra left the house to her? She must have had some reason. Debra could have left the house to anyone she had wanted to, but she had chosen her errant sister. Inheritance was a gift, not an obligation. So why? Why had Debra given the house to her? It had to be more than just some sort of familial requirement.
Patrice ran her feet back and forth in the sand squinting into the sun. A second chance? She realized that her sister had given her a second chance at life. Debra’s notebook. The plans for a B&B. The resort town of Moonlight Cove.
Patrice didn’t need to go back to L.A. She could stay here; open the B&B like her sister had planned. She could grab this opportunity and make the most of it. She had one chance at life—she had taken it years ago by becoming a stylist. Fashion was a fickle mistress and no longer wanted her; now her sister had given her another chance. Patrice was someplace that needed her. She got up, brushing off the sand; the lighthouse caught her attention, its whitewash conical beacon shone in the morning light. She shook away the coldness of the night and made her way up the wooden stairs. Her future started today.
* * *
He was sitting in the back of the bistro, staring out the window. Patrice paused before going over to him. What seemed only a few hours ago like the best idea ever, now seeing JB, she wondered if this was the wisest choice. But she had come this far. She couldn’t let her own self-doubts stop her.
“JB?” Patrice uttered. He turned, looking at her almost as if he was expecting her. His face was ashen, dark circles hung under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped as if exhaustion weighed him down. She knew the feeling. She could use a few more hours of sleep, too. “May I?” she motioned to the chair. He shrugged, stacking up the papers he had strewn over the table.
“I thought you’d be at the farm this morning.” She watched him neaten the stack before slipping it into his brief case.
“Had a meeting at city hall this morning,” he responded without even looking up at her.
“And those?”
“Student papers. Sustainable marine life propagation.” His voice was flat, his face, expressionless.
Patrice shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “JB… I… we… need to—”
“When are you leaving for L.A.?”
“What? Oh! Well, I’m—”
“Coffee?” Lily stood at the table with a coffee cup and coffee pot in hand, and a menu tucked under her arm.
“Yes. That would be great. Thank you.” A jolt of caffeine was probably what she needed after a sleepless night.
Lily filled the mug and looked at JB. “And, you?”
“Sure. Thanks, Lily.” He pushed his mug towards her.
“Breakfast?” Lily asked.
Patrice’s stomach lurched. Food would be good. “Yes.”
Lily reached for the menu, but Patrice shook her head. “Tell me what’s good. What do you recommend?”
Lily glanced at JB before responding. “The eggs à la Moonlight. Made with choice abalone. It’s quite good.”
“Okay, I’ll have that and a glass of orange juice.”
“Coming right up.”
Patrice poured cream into her coffee and took a tentative sip. “She does make the best coffee.”
“You’ve had coffee at every restaurant in Moonlight Cove?”
“No. Not yet.” The caffeine elbowed her attention, clearing her thoughts. She was right to come here this morning and speak to JB. She had to. She just did.
“Aren’t you leaving? You’re going to hit all the Highway 101 traffic, if you don’t leave soon.”
She shook her head. “No. Not today, at least.”
JB eyes widened. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak just as Lily came up to the table.
“Here you go. Eggs à la Moonlight. Anything else?”
Patrice eyed the oversized plate with two eggs upon a filet of abalone, lined with spinach all neatly arranged, on English muffins, and drenched in hollandaise sauce.
“No, thank you. This looks delicious.” Patrice picked up her fork and took the first bite. And it was delicious. She inwardly sighed.
JB was still staring at her; she could feel his gaze on her as she ate.
“This is good. Really, really good.” She waved her fork in the air. “Do you think Lily would give me the recipe for how she prepares the abalone? Debra’s notebook didn’t have specifics about that.”
“I didn’t know you cooked?” He sipped his coffee.
She smirked at him. “One of my many talents.”
He se
t his coffee cup down with a bang. “Have a safe drive back to L.A. I hope everything works out for you, Patrice.” He moved to get up from the table.
“Wait. Don’t go. Please.” She swallowed her last mouthful.
He shook his head. “There is nothing more I need to say and I surely don’t need to hear anything more from you.”
His words hurt, as if their past held no significance for him. “I suppose I deserved that. But I think you may want to hear what I have to say.” She twisted, retrieving her temporary Moonlight Cove business license from the front pocket of her jeans. She tossed the folded piece of paper onto the table.
“What’s this?”
“Read it.”
JB glared at the folded paper. Patrice watched him under her hooded eyes as she continued to eat. Reaching over, he unfolded the paper, running his eyes across it.
“I applied for that business license this morning. It’s the temporary copy. The real one I’ll frame and hang behind the front desk. Well, when I get a front desk.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin.
He let the paper slip from his hand. “Is this some joke?” His glare hardened.
“No. I thought you’d at least say congratulations. Or best of luck, or something encouraging like that.” She reached over and snatched the paper out from him, and jammed it back into her pocket.
He braced himself against the table. “You’re staying? Here? In Moonlight Cove? What about—”
“My job in L.A.? I’m giving that up. Sure, I’ll need to go clean out my apartment and stuff. My lease isn’t up for another six months so there’s no rush on that.”
He blinked, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared out the window, his mouth a straight line.
“You know after you left last night, I was angry, really angry. I went and sat on the beach—”
He turned to her and raised an eyebrow in question.
“I just sat there alone and cold, thinking about what I was going to do. It dawned on me. Debra had to have left me this house for a reason. She could have left the house to anyone, but she left it to me.”
“Maybe because you were her sister?”
Patrice shook her head. “We ignored each other for the last ten years. You know that. But this town was her friend and her family. I realized she left me more than just a piece of property. She left me a chance: a chance to have a different life.
“It takes money to open a business. Capital investment and—”
She waved her hand in the air. “Already taken care of. I called a friend of mine in L.A., and she’s going to help me get some private investors. I’m going to start an internet funding campaign to finish the restoration that Debra started. I know a lot of people in the entertainment industry. They may not want to hire me as a stylist, but I bet they’ll invest in my B&B and even better, I bet they’ll want to come and stay here, too.”
He shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “Patrice, what do you know about running a B&B? Besides reading Debra’s notebook?”
“I’ve stayed in a few over the years.”
“So that makes you an expert?”
“No. Of course, not. I’ve worked in the service industry all my adult life. As a stylist, I dressed people to look good. I provided a service with my expertise in clothing, makeup and fashion. Running a B&B is sort of the same; I’ll provide a nice place to stay, a tasty breakfast and information about the area.”
“So your career that you’ve spent you whole adult life on—you’re just going to toss it aside.”
Patrice shook her head, wiping up the last bite of egg with the edge of her toast. “You know, this was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re not even listening to me.”
She popped the last bit of toast into her mouth. “I heard you. I’m not throwing my career away. I’m transitioning from one career to another. I’m grabbing an opportunity where I didn’t see one before.”
“Are you just doing this because of the planning commission? They’ll want—”
She held up her hands. “No. I’m not doing this to skirt around a bunch of nosy public servants. I’ll be at the meeting. I’ll have Debra’s business plan, if there are questions. There are a few things in it that need to be updated, but it’s solid. It will be my business plan.”
“I wouldn’t refer to the members of the planning commission as nosy public servants.”
“Why? Are there any of them in here?” Patrice looked around. The bistro was almost empty. The breakfast rush must have come and gone, and the lunch crowd hadn’t arrived yet.
With a partial grin on his face, JB shook his head. “Only me.”
“Good. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”
JB sat back in the booth and shook his head before letting out a shallow laugh, “Then I guess all I can say is congratulations.”
“You still don’t sound convinced that I can do this.”
He let out a long breath, before answering. “I’m not. You came here with the sole intention of selling and now you’re staying. What happens in a week? Or a month? Or a year? Will you still be here? Or are you going to bail out?”
Patrice gripped her hands in her lap. “I know you think I’m crazy, but—”
“I didn’t say that. Are you doing this because it’s a sound business opportunity or are you doing it for some other reason?”
Patrice sniffled. The tears were just below the surface. She took a deep hard swallow trying to gain control. “My regret in life is that I never patched things up with Debra.”
“Patrice—”
“No. Let me finish.”
“JB, I don’t want to live my life with any more regrets. I want to live my life to the fullest. I think I can do that here in Moonlight Cove. I truly do.”
JB nodded, holding out his hand, Patrice laid her hand in his. Security, warmth and happiness spread through her as he wrapped his fingers around her palm.
“Patrice, I lost you ten years ago. You left and I didn’t know how to stop you.”
Patrice nodded. “I know. I had to leave. I had to figure things out. Funny, it’s taken me ten years to figure things out.”
JB laid his other hand on hers and smiled. “Patrice, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. All I felt I just bundled up and hid away until I heard you were back in town, and now I—”
“JB,” Patrice said, her heart thumping in her ears. “I didn’t just think about changing careers when I was out on the beach this morning.”
He pulled his hands from her grasp, as a worried look passed over his face.
“I’ve been a fool. Not just ten years ago, but many times since, and I probably will make foolish decisions in the future, too—”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re only human.”
Patrice laughed. “But, the hardest thing is right now. Like I said, I don’t want to live my life with regrets. I don’t want to wonder about the ‘what ifs’.”
JB didn’t respond, but continued to stare at her. Patrice took in a huge gulp of air. It was now or never, so she trudged on. “I love you. I loved you ten years ago and that among other reasons, is why I left and never came back. I was scared. I had never felt that way about anyone before, and I’ve never felt that way about anyone since.”
JB smiled and leaned his elbows on the table. “Patrice—”
“I love you.” She repeated herself, her voice cracking. “I truly do. And, I have no reason for you to return my love for the way I behaved. But I hope that you will give me another chance. I’ll admit I don’t know anything about being a mother or a stepmother, but I hope you and your daughter will give me a chance.”
JB’s eyes grew wide.
Patrice took a deep breath, plunging forward, “Jackson Barrell, will you marry me?”
He didn’t respond, but stared. Patrice’s heart was in her throat. She wiped her sweating palms on the legs of her pants. “JB, I know you may think I’m—”
“
I’m not the same man I was ten years ago.” His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
“I know. I’m not the same person I was ten years ago, either.”
His downcast eyes confirmed her biggest fear: the uncertainty of living the rest of her life so close to the man she loved. She shuddered to think that every time she saw JB she would be reminded of what her foolishness had cost her.
JB cleared his throat, laying his hands on the table. Hesitantly, Patrice reached over, sliding her hands into his. His touch was warm and inviting and instantly she wanted to make this all right, to fix whatever she had done wrong, but she couldn’t voice a response.
“Yes.” His voice was choked with emotion.
“Yes?”
“Patrice?” His thumbs danced back and forth across the tops of her hands “Yes.”
Letting out her breath, Patrice squeezed her eyes shut trying to stop the tears that ran down her face. “I’m so happy. I so—”
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
Patrice frantically shook her head back and forth, wondering what he might say.
“You’ll only buy abalone from me for your B&B.”
Patrice laughed. “It’s a deal.” She wiped her face with her napkin and blew her runny nose.
“Good. Come on.” He stood up, offering her his hand.
Brimming with excitement, Patrice whispered to JB, “Are you going to tell Lily?”
He shook his head, pausing at the door before escorting her outside “Why? She already knows.”
Patrice squinted against the mid-morning sun, which had burned away the misty fog. The blue sky was dotted with circling seagulls, and the sea lions that lined the rocky abutments of the boardwalk were barking.
“How would she know?” Patrice asked looking back at the bistro.
JB put his arm around her and pulled her close, his face just a mere breath away from hers. “That’s one of the many secrets of Moonlight Cove.”
--- # # # ---
Janna Roznos is a native Californian who shares her home with a former professional athlete—a retired greyhound racer—two grumpy cats, and one very supportive husband.
When she isn’t out fly-fishing or sewing or searching used bookstores for vintage Harlequin romances, she is tapping away on her keyboard.
