by Susan Hatler
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “That’s where I grew up.”
Oh, I was mortified. Here I was moaning about fixing up this inn to sell, when his parents flipped buildings ten times this size without breaking a sweat. “That mansion is a San Francisco landmark. That’s your family? You host the party of the year on the 4th of July, with its amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the fireworks.”
“Don’t be fooled by a beautiful façade.” His eyes dimmed slightly, and he glanced down the path where Lucky was sniffing the potted planters. “I love my parents, but they raised me to be who they wanted me to be. They’re extremely successful, but also competitive people, who take those two things so seriously they don’t really think about anything else. It’s hard.”
“Huh.” I tilted my head, wondering what was wrong with being driven at work. That was my specialty.
“Truthfully, I’ve never thought about much besides work either. I was ready to sign the contract with my dad on a new project, but ever since I arrived at the inn, something has stopped me. I get a feeling here . . .”
“What do you mean?” I asked, amazed at the passion in his eyes.
“It’s hard to describe.” He gazed at me a moment, then slipped an arm around me and we started walking down the path again. “All I know right now is that when I woke up this morning to the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves, I felt happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“This place is special,” I said, thinking the person next to me was pretty special too. I should probably duck out of his arm, but it felt so right being this close to him. I couldn’t believe he’d opened up to me like that, and from the seriousness in his tone, I got the feeling he didn’t do it often. “You grew up with both parents, which was all I’d ever wanted. But it turns out life wasn’t perfect for you either. It’s making me wonder if my childhood would’ve been better or worse if my parents had stayed.”
We walked in silence as we rounded the corner, and the inn’s Olympic-size pool came into view. Two adults occupied the lounge chairs, and several kids swam in the heated water. Max’s hand caressed my side, and a jolt of electricity whipped through me.
Trying to downplay the feelings growing inside me, I gazed up to the balcony, and was reminded of my crush on the cute boy who had jumped off into the pool. I’d been too shy to talk to him, but he’d been a summer boy, just passing through.
I hadn’t been too shy with Max, but he was only passing through as well. For a moment, I considered that we might have an amazing month, filled with walks on the beaches, and sails on the bay. But what would be the point? He and I came from different worlds. Plus, my home was in Sacramento, and he traveled all over the world for his business. Nothing could ever come of this, so better not to start something that could only end painfully.
Lucky ran to the edge of the pool, sniffing the water. Max laughed, and I took that moment to step away from him. His face sobered and his gaze shot to mine with a questioning look.
“I like you, Max.” I took another step back, but looked him in the eye, so he’d know how serious I was, and how much I regretted what I was about to say. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I don’t have feelings for you. But that doesn’t change anything. I have enough complications in my life right now, so we can’t see each other any more. I’ve made up my mind.”
“I’ve made up my mind, too.” He tucked another piece of my hair behind my ear, then grinned. “Have a good dinner with your friend tonight, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My mouth dropped open as I watched him walk away. He called for Lucky, who ran to him, with her Frisbee. He smiled back at me, then continued down the path with her. I gaped after him. Had he not heard what I’d said about us not seeing each other again? Let alone, tomorrow?
Max was a good guy and I knew it. But did he have the right idea about tossing away a lucrative business contract, because the sound of the ocean made him happy? Was happiness more important than success?
After thinking about it, I decided it wasn’t. My parents believed their happiness came first, and look what they’d done to their kids. I needed to focus on work, just like my grandma had taught me, so I could buy the stable home I’d always wanted. If Max came around me again, I’d just have to stay strong, and keep my emotional distance—despite what my heart urged me to do.
Chapter Six
I arrived downtown at eight o’clock that evening to meet Megan and Olivia, resolved to make our get together as short as possible, so I would be fresh to focus on the inn renovations tomorrow. It made me sad to limit my time with them, but I needed to stay focused on what I came to Blue Moon Bay to do: sell the inn and go back home to buy the townhome I wanted.
I parked the car and got out, noting the nightlife in the downtown area had been revitalized since I’d left. Numerous sidewalk cafes were open that had been closed earlier in the day. Now, with cute little wrought-iron tables and chairs sitting out front and music playing, the street took on a quaint but electric attitude.
The music was light and upbeat, straight instrumental versions of current pop hits. Tourists and locals alike crowded the sidewalks, some window-shopping in front of the antique stores and surf shops, others perusing the menus displayed outside the entrances to restaurants.
The autumn season was in full swing, and the flowers in the medians separating the two sides of the street still bloomed in wild, colorful profusion. The tree branches and leaves waved in the breeze, and it was already starting to get chilly.
I walked the half a block, feeling tired to my bones, from the emotionally exhausting day. I’d actually called Megan to cancel, but she’d sounded so happy we were meeting I didn’t have the heart to let her down. But opening up to Max had left me feeling anxious, and I wanted to retreat into the safety of solitude that I knew so well.
Frankie’s Fiesta had a bright red door, which opened as soon as I approached, and the host welcomed me. My eyes adjusted to the slight dimness, and I easily found Megan at the bar, sitting on a high backed stool. She hopped off when she spotted me, hurried across the floor, and enveloped me in a huge hug.
“Hi.” I squeezed her back, surprised when some of the day’s tension eased out of me.
Her eyes searched my face. “Uh-oh. You look tired. Everything okay?”
I opened my mouth to lie, but this was Megan, my friend, and she looked so concerned. . . So, I blurted, “No, everything’s awful. The inn needs so much work. We have a plan to get it in shape to put on the market, but it breaks my heart that we have to sell it. My grandma’s will forces the sale, though, and it’s so hard being there without her, you know?” I covered my mouth, feeling lame for unloading on her like that. “Sorry. I’m babbling.”
“It’s okay.” Her hand rested on my shoulder, a familiar gesture that brought a lump to my throat. “I can’t imagine how sad you must be about your grandma. I know how much you loved her.”
“Thanks.” I put a hand to my chest. “Now, please tell me they have margaritas here.”
She giggled. “The best in the west! Paco, the bartender, knows how to make any kind you could possibly want. His red cactus margaritas are my fave.”
We slid onto the barstools and ordered two red cactus margaritas from the waiter, along with an order of loaded nachos. Megan started chattering away and I soon found myself drawn in by the low lights, the soft music, and the extreme amount of tequila in the glass that had been put down in front of me.
“Do you remember how we used to pour soda into my mom’s crystal flutes and pretend we were grownups sitting at a bar having drinks?” Megan asked.
I laughed, my mood lightening at the memory. “We were pretty goofy.”
“I guess some things do come true.” She tilted her glass toward mine, and we clinked them together.
“Didn’t you say you might invite Olivia?” I asked.
Her expression changed. “I did invite her. But she’s really busy, working on the Pumpkin Festival.”<
br />
I sighed. Guess Olivia didn’t want to be anywhere near me. Something I’d deduced from her attitude that morning. “She’s mad. Isn’t she? Give it to me straight.”
“She’s not mad.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “But, she is hurt. Can you blame her, though?” Her voice went soft. “You kind of vanished on us. We never thought that would happen, since we were supposed to be best friends forever. Right?”
Her words stung. It also didn’t go unnoticed that she’d used the term “we.” Megan was hurt, too. Guilt washed over me. “I’m sorry. I never intended to just disappear, but I guess I did. I worked so hard to get my business off the ground, and that became my focus. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
She fiddled with the stem of her glass.
“I think subconsciously I wanted to forget Blue Moon Bay, and put that part of my life behind me. You know how I felt about my parents leaving us, and there’s something else I never told you.” I slugged a huge gulp of margarita for courage. “Ian and I didn’t just grow apart, and mutually decide to break up like I claimed. He cheated on me, then dumped me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I knew there was something slimy about him!”
My spirits were as low as the level of my glass, which was nearly empty. “I should’ve told you about Ian, but I was embarrassed. He obviously didn’t want me. Story of my life.”
“He was a moron.” She put her hand on mine, and squeezed. “Your parents have issues that have nothing to do with you or Brian. You’re both awesome. I know it doesn’t get rid of the hurt, but they are the ones missing out by not having you guys in their life,” she said, emphatically. “You’re an amazing person, Wendy. Don’t ever forget that.”
I smiled at her through my tears, then inhaled deeply. “You’re still my cheerleader.”
“Always,” she said.
I dabbed the corners of my eyes. “So Blue Moon Bay still has that Pumpkin Festival, huh?” I asked, trying to get things back on a more pleasant note.
“Oh yeah.” Megan laughed. “That thing is still the highlight of the season, too.”
The season. There were plenty of festivities that made tourists flock to Blue Moon Bay, no matter what time of year. Summer had always been the best time for the inn, although there were slower but still steady seasons.
“Do you remember all of the Pumpkin Festivals we went to growing up?” I lifted my drink again and drained it. The waiter reappeared, setting down our nachos, and I gestured for a glass of water. “We would run around on our sugar highs, flirting with boys.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I pictured Max. His blue eyes, warm smile, sweet caresses. . . .
Megan giggled, unaware my mind had drifted. “I remember when we got sick eating all those corn dogs and cotton candy that one year. We were scared to tell our parents, because we’d been saving our lunch money for a week in order to buy all of those forbidden goodies.”
I smiled at my friend, fighting to push Max out of my mind. “Was it you or Olivia, who threw up on the merry-go-round that year?”
“Me.” She sported a thumbs up sign. “Very classy. At least the concession stand money went to a good cause.”
“Are they still donating all the proceeds to charity?” I asked.
“Yes, but now they choose a different charity every year. This time they’re donating to a children’s literacy program. They also change the theme of the games and stuff now, which makes planning a lot more work. When we were kids they used the same games every year.”
“Yes, but I never got bored with them. I especially loved the game where you had to bust the balloons with darts to win a prize. My aim was always too far off to win, though.”
“I still have the traditional glass whale, filled with the clear blue liquid that they gave away as the prize for winning that game.”
I propped my chin on my fist, taken back to my teenage years. “I’d always wanted to win one of those glass whales. I remember one year I cried so hard, because everyone had won one except me.”
“You were upset? I never knew that.”
I shrugged, remembering there was a lot I never felt comfortable telling my friends. “When my grandma saw how upset I was, she ordered one from the manufacturer, and gave it to me. I cried harder when I saw it, though, and told her it wasn’t the same as winning one.” I played with the tiny straw in my drink. “You know she never spent money unnecessarily. I realize now what a huge gesture that was for her. I should’ve appreciated her more.”
She shook her head. “You were just a kid. We all do dumb things when we’re young. Your grandma knew how much you loved her. And she loved you, too.”
I pressed my lips together. “Thanks, Megan. I needed that.”
She popped a loaded chip in her mouth. “So what made you get into real estate?”
“I worked in a real estate office in college, and kind of caught the bug. I love touring houses, creating listings, finding people their perfect home. Maybe because I always wanted a permanent home of my own. . . I don’t know. I love my work, and can’t imagine doing anything else.”
She swallowed another bite, then licked a glob of sour cream from her finger. “Okay, tell me the truth. Is being a Realtor as hard as it looks on television?”
“I didn’t know it looked hard on TV.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, and instantly thought of Max, and how he liked to tuck my hair. Sigh. Maybe I should just go on a date with him. Or maybe that was the margarita talking. Good thing I only ordered one.
Her eyes lit up. “It looks like so much work, but I love watching people try to find their perfect house. It’s also entertaining when they put the Realtors through all kinds of wringers and stuff. Although, a lot of them seem staged if you ask me.”
My mouth fell open. “How can you love a show that puts Realtors through the wringer?”
“I just do.” She laughed, good-naturedly. “Olivia loves them, too.”
Hearing Olivia’s name made me sad, so I pushed the thought from my mind. “So what are you doing for a living? We’ve been so busy talking about me, I forgot to even ask.”
“I’m a web designer. Just launched my own company, so it hasn’t had time to take off, but I’ve had a few clients. I’m still working at the dress shop full-time to make rent, and I work on web design from my kitchen table. But it fills my creative outlet, and it’s practical. So, I can see it going somewhere.”
Web design? A figurative light bulb went off above my head. “The inn could use a website. I’d actually been thinking that earlier. Grandma was old-school, and never put the business online. It would make reservations easier, and would be a fantastic selling point for a prospective innkeeper. Do you know how to do all of that?”
She squealed. “Of course. Are you hiring me?”
“If you want the job,” I said, thinking it was a fantastic idea. “Something simple, with clean lines, and offering the ability to book and pay online.”
“I accept!” She rubbed her hands together. “When would you want to look at a rough site?”
“As soon as possible, and thank you for helping me out.”
“No worries.” Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, then her face fell. “Oh, no. There’s Derek, the guy I’ve been dating. He’s here with another woman. Yes, it definitely looks like a date.”
I leaned back, eyeing the dark-haired man, with his arm around a tall blonde. “Were you two exclusive?”
“No, but I thought we might be eventually.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, seeing how bummed out she looked.
She shrugged. “Whatever. He was a little snobby anyway. Brian couldn’t stand hearing about him. Are you dating anyone right now?”
“No,” I said, but my mind replayed Max’s kisses last night. “Well, there is this guy I met. His name is Max, and he’s staying at the inn. I’m not really seeing him, but he asked me out . . .” I rubbed my forehead. “We kind of kissed on the beach last night. A lot. But I only allowed a fun fling, because I thoug
ht he was leaving in the morning. Now he’s decided to stay at the inn all month long. It’s a disaster.”
Her eyes practically glowed. “You kissed him on the beach last night? Under the blue moon?” She wagged a finger. “You’re tempting fate, Wendy. He must be pretty hot, huh?”
“Oh, stop,” I said, embarrassed. “He’s a really nice guy and, yes, smoking hot. But he’s more than that. He’s considerate and a gentleman. He has this dog he adopted. She’s darling and he’s so good to her. . . What is it?” I swiped my cheeks in case there was salsa on my face. “You’re looking at me strangely.”
“You’ve got it bad.” She laughed, then checked her watch. Her face fell. “I didn’t realize it was that late. I’m sorry, but I have to open the store early in the morning.”
“I should get going, too,” I said. It was funny because I’d planned on making this a short night, but I’d quickly lost track of time. It felt so natural and easy being with Megan. I really had missed her. We’d have to find a way to keep in touch once I moved back to Sacramento. “Thanks for getting me out tonight,” I said, handing my credit card to the waiter. Megan started to protest, but I winked at her. “Business write-off.”
“Aw. Thanks, Wendy. It was great to catch up with you. Thank you again for the job. I won’t let you down. Let me brainstorm a little, then I’ll run a few website ideas by you.”
“That sounds great.” I signed the check, and we walked outside. We hugged, then she went left and I went right. When I’d walked halfway down the block, I turned back around.
Megan had turned around as well. She waved and I waved back. Wearing a big grin, she raised her hand, putting her thumb to her ear, and her pinky toward her mouth in our old traditional sign for “call me.” For a moment, it seemed like home here again. Then I felt a pang, realizing the only thing missing was Olivia turning to give me a wave, too.
Chapter Seven
The coffee pot at the inn probably worked, but I was leery of the antiquated machine, and didn’t want to go near the huge tin can of grounds sitting next to it. Instant coffee was so not my thing. But I needed my morning coffee fix.
