“How long are you home for, Charli?” Alex set a huge plate of food in front of me. He pulled out a chair and joined me at the table, demanding an answer by staring at me.
“For a while, if that’s okay.”
“You can stay forever. This will always be your home.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, lifting the top of my sandwich to check the contents. He’d made me tuna. My stomach lurched and I pushed the plate to the centre of the table and pinched my nose.
“Do you have something against tuna?”
“Today I do. I’ve been scoffing chocolate the whole way from Hobart.”
He dropped his sandwich on his plate. “Are you going to puke?”
“I wasn’t even thinking about it until you mentioned it.”
“Can I get you something?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. Just tired. I really need to sleep.”
He nodded but I could see the tension in his jaw. We’d hardly spoken in months. I’d arrived home unannounced and he had no clue why. He didn’t want to me sleep. He wanted answers.
Thankfully, he didn’t push the issue. I followed him down the hallway to my bedroom. I was hoping it had remained untouched, but there were shades of Gabrielle all over the place. A large easel stood near the window, accommodating a cool abstract painting that she hadn’t finished. Pots of paints and brushes littered the dressing table. I could overlook her arty junk, but I couldn’t ignore the pungent smell of turpentine that hit me the instant I walked in. I pushed the curtain aside, slid the window open and waved my hand as if I could somehow pull the breeze into the room.
“Sorry, Charli,” Alex muttered, scooping pots of paint off the dressing table. “Gabi likes to paint in here, something about the light being good.”
I turned and smiled at him. He deserved to think I wasn’t upset by the hostile takeover of my room. “I don’t mind. I just want to sleep.”
He gave me a smile that I knew wasn’t real and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
As exhausted as I was, sleep was impossible. As soon as I laid my head on the pillow, the ear-splitting sound of cracking wood invaded the silence. I ignored it for as long as I could before admitting defeat and getting up. I ventured outside to confront the axe-wielding maniac working the woodheap.
“I thought you said you were tired,” said Alex, pausing only momentarily to ask the question before swinging the axe over his head and belting it into a log.
I winced as it made contact. “How can I sleep with this racket going on?”
“I chop wood, Charli. It takes my mind off my errant daughter.” He set another log on the chopping block. “If I didn’t chop wood, I’d go insane.”
“I’m home. You can stop worrying now.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he asked. “But you’re here, and I’m still driven to smash wood.”
I stepped off the veranda. “What do you want me to say, Alex? I don’t know what you want to hear.”
He slumped forward, leaning on the butt of the axe and wiping sweat off his face with his T-shirt. “How about the truth, for once? I’ve barely heard a word from you in months. When we do speak, you tell me everything is fine. Then you rock up here out of the blue, looking pretty damned dreadful if I’m honest, and still insist everything is fine. Clearly you’re lying. I don’t know what to do about that.”
I had no clue where to begin so I put the ball back in his court. “Ask me anything. I won’t lie.”
“Fine,” he grunted, dropping the axe. “Let’s start with the crux of the problem. Where’s Adam? I know you’ve left him. FedEx delivered a heap of boxes addressed to you a few days ago. I was curious so I opened one. It was full of your stuff.”
That revelation was like a dagger through my heart. My New York life had been packed up and mailed back to my father less than a week after I’d left. I’m sure Colin the delivery guy was paid well to remove all traces of Charlotte Décarie.
“I have no regrets, Alex,” I said, sounding remarkably sincere.
“You married him, Charli. That should be a big regret. What went wrong?”
Sucking in a long breath, I explained as best I could. Telling my father that Adam never intended leaving New York was a horrible admission to make. It felt like I was scoring points for the opposing team.
“So are you done now?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh, come on,” he growled, leaning down to pick up the axe. “Giving him another chance is like reloading the gun for him because he missed you the first time.”
“You’re never going to understand,” I said roughly. “You never understood.”
“Make me understand. And make it quick, I’m nearly out of wood.”
I glanced at the less than impressive woodpile. In all my years, I’d never seen it that depleted. He’d picked a crappy time to let it run low.
“I can’t explain it, Alex. I just love him.”
“Are you furious right now?” he asked. “Do you see how horribly he treated you?”
“Yes.” I practically whimpered the word.
“Don’t be that girl, Charli. I raised you better than that.”
“I’m not that girl, Alex,” I huffed. “And I’m not a seventeen- year-old kid any more.”
He swung the axe again belting the log so hard that even he seemed to flinch. “You’re still my kid, Charli.”
* * *
Defeated, I headed back to my room, lay on the bed and instantly fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in weeks. It was after four when I woke. The Parisienne was home. I could hear her musical voice coming from the lounge.
I got up quietly and peeked into the room. Gabrielle perched forward on the couch. Alex was crouched in front of her, resting his forehead on hers, mumbling something probably designed to calm her. She was crying.
I wondered why. Had my homecoming rained on her parade that much?
I cleared my throat. By the time I reached the couch, Gabrielle had pulled herself together. “Charli,” she crowed, jumping up and pushing Alex aside.
“Hello, Gabrielle.”
She threw her arms around me. “You look wonderful,” she said, pushing me away and holding me at arm’s length while she examined me. Clearly she was lying. Everyone else thought I looked pale and skinny.
“Thank you,” I replied. “So do you.”
Despite her red face and puffy eyes, she did look beautiful. I wanted to ask why she’d been crying but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. I hadn’t been in town long enough to reduce her to tears.
“We have been waiting for you.” She sat on the white couch and pulled me down beside her. “I want to hear all your news.”
“What do you mean, you’ve been waiting for me?”
She looked embarrassed. “Please don’t think I’ve been prying. Boxes of your belongings have been arriving all week, so I called Adam. I was worried.”
My concern was reserved entirely for him. “Did he sound alright?”
Her perfect face lit up. “Fine,” she assured me, patting my hand. “He is terribly sad, but he’s coping.”
It peeved me that she’d made it sound so final. I glanced at Alex, noticing his rigid expression. I focused back on Gabrielle. “I’m glad,” I said, mainly for Alex’s benefit. “I want him to be okay.”
* * *
The Parisienne’s bright mood lasted for the rest of the day. Whatever had upset her had passed. I kept her company in the kitchen while she conjured up a grand homecoming dinner.
Coq au vin was a meal that should have knocked me on my chocolate-overdosed butt, but I managed to eat everything on my plate. It was the first real meal I’d had in days and I instantly felt better for it. I went to bed early, feeling well, content and glad to be home, but I woke at five in the morning raring to go. I stayed in bed as long as I could stand before heading to the kitchen. I was on my second bowl of cereal when Alex trud
ged in.
“Charli.” He yawned my name. “Are you alright?”
“I’m great!” My tone was much too chirpy for that time of morning.
Alex joined me at the table. I slid the box of cereal, a bowl and the carton of milk across to him.
“You look much better today.”
“I feel better.”
His lazy half smile looked more like a smirk. “I’m pleased to hear it. Do you have plans for the day?”
“I thought I might come to the café with you.”
He frowned down at his bowl as he unloaded the box of cereal into it.
“Are you sure you want to? This place hasn’t changed much in the time you’ve been away.” I knew what he was hinting at. They were sparkly, overly made-up and once upon a time the two scariest girls I’d ever known, Jasmine and Lily Tate.
I was actually hoping the Beautifuls hadn’t changed, because I most certainly had. I’d dealt with much bigger and badder than them since leaving town. “I’m up for it, Alex.”
“Go and get dressed then. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
I only needed five.
* * *
The drive to the café was reminiscent of old times, especially when Alex ordered me to put my seatbelt on. I tried to adjust the settings on the stereo and had my hand slapped. I pressed the button on my door and opened my window. Using the control on his side, Alex wound it up and locked it. “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered, making me giggle.
We pulled into the car park, and Alex’s rushed pace seemed to wane. He made no attempt to get out of the car.
“Are we just going to sit?”
“For a minute. There’s something I want to tell you before we go in.”
“Is it about Gabrielle?” I asked, wondering if he was about to explain her teary mood from the day before.
He pulled a face like he was chewing on broken glass. “No. Why would you think that?”
“She was crying when she came home yesterday,” I told him. “I wondered if it was something to do with me.”
He was shaking his head before I’d finished speaking. “No, nothing to do with you. She was having a bad day, that’s all.”
Gabrielle was the queen when it came to enduring bad days. She taught high school students, for crying out loud. Alex’s weak explanation wasn’t convincing, but quizzing him was pointless. “So what is it, then? What do you have to tell me?”
He started bouncing the bunch of keys in his hand. “I want you to put things in perspective and keep an open mind.”
I couldn’t think of anything he needed to tell me that was so dreadful that I needed a pep talk prior to hearing it. “Just spit it out, Alex.”
He glanced at me only briefly. “Nicole’s back in town.”
The mere mention of her name infuriated me. I shifted, making the leather seat squeak.
“When did she resurface?” I didn’t mean to sound so indignant. I wanted to give the impression that I was unaffected by anything to do with Nicole Lawson. As far as I was concerned, my ex-best friend was a thief and traitor who deserved to be left rotting in my past.
“She’s only been back a few weeks. She feels terrible about what happened.”
I glared at my father, fighting the urge to slap the side of his head.
“How would you know how terrible she feels?” I asked sourly. “Nicole doesn’t have a contrite bone in her body.”
“She’s been working hard to make amends, Charli.”
“Working here?” My voice sounded higher than usual as disgust set in.
He nodded but wouldn’t look at me. “She’s always been a hard worker and she needs the money. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
She shouldn’t have needed a penny. Nicole skipped town with her loser boyfriend and thirteen thousand of Adam’s hard-earned dollars. If Alex had been privy to that information he might have reconsidered his stance on second chances. But he knew nothing about her thieving ways. All he knew was that she’d blown me off and done a runner with Ethan Williams.
“I believe in second chances, Alex,” I said sincerely. “I just don’t believe everyone deserves them.”
Alex looked at me. “Keep an open mind, Charli. Hear her out. That’s all I ask.”
“I’m not interested in making peace with Nicole Lawson.”
* * *
Unlike the house, the café hadn’t changed at all. I was glad Gabrielle hadn’t made her mark. The beach café with the chequerboard flooring, dark wood countertop and pale blue walls was still entirely Alex’s domain.
I perched on the wicker stool at the counter while Alex set about opening up for the day. It was then that I noticed the brand spanking new coffee machine. I rushed around the counter to admire it. Out of habit, I switched it on. “Let me make you a coffee.”
My enthusiasm stunned him. Alex sat on the stool I’d just vacated and watched silently as I brewed him a near perfect latte, complete with rosetta design in the froth. It smelled divine, and I took the unusual step of making myself a cup too – perhaps to prove that the fancy pattern wasn’t a fluke.
“Since when have you been such an accomplished barista?” he teased, turning his cup to examine it from all angles.
“Since I married a New Yorker,” I said, butchering the American accent.
He grimaced. “I’m confused by the way you talk about him, Charli.” He picked up a spoon and scooped it through his cup, toying with the froth. “You’re not supposed to like him so much after being duped.”
“That’s a nasty way of putting it, Alex.”
“How else would you describe it? Would you have married him if you’d known he wasn’t ever going to leave New York?”
I could feel the conversation heading to a place I didn’t want to visit. Whether he realised it or not, he’d landed on the very heart of the betrayal. We were literally standing at the altar when Adam had reiterated his promise of travelling with me when he’d finished law school. I was in love, excited and completely convinced. Adam, on the other hand, was lying through his teeth.
I didn’t answer him and the silence spoke volumes.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, way too smugly.
I shrugged. “It’ll be okay in the end.”
Alex didn’t smile until I did. “In a million life times, I’ll never figure you out.”
I couldn’t expect him to. I had trouble understanding myself most of the time. “I know what I’m doing, Alex,” I lied.
“Charli, you’ve never had a clue what you’re doing. That’s what makes you dangerous. I’ve been keeping a jar of bail money on top of the fridge since you were twelve years old for that very reason,” he grumbled, heading toward the back room to collect the newspaper deliveries.
I moved one of the wicker stools to the business side of the counter. I would have been perfectly content to sit there all morning, but the jingling bell at the top of the door snapped me back to reality. Nicole Lawson strolled in, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw me. I watched the colour drain from her face as her eyes darted in every direction but mine. I didn’t share her nervousness. I had no urge to run and hide, probably because I wasn’t a lying, backstabbing thief.
I stared her down, studying her closely. Nicole was much thinner than I’d ever known her to be – Kinsey Ballantyne thin. She was wearing cargo shorts and a black camisole top, the exact same outfit I was wearing. There was a time when I would’ve found the coincidence funny. Now it irked me. Her long brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail. I was glad I’d worn mine down.
“Charli,” she said timidly, taking a few measured steps toward the counter. “I had no idea you were coming home.”
“I was going to email you and let you know but then I remembered how much I hate you.” Her already shaky expression crumpled and for some reason, I almost felt bad. Almost.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not worth anything at all, Nicole.”
; She walked over to the counter and I considered screaming at her to get the hell away from me.
“I’d really like the opportunity to explain.”
“Look, you might have been able to talk Alex around but it won’t work with me.” I leaned across the counter, trying my hand at being scary by lowering my tone. “I know everything, Nic. Alex wouldn’t have given you your job back if he knew everything.”
She nodded, resigned. “I know that. I’ll tell him the whole story if you want me to.”
My skills at bullying obviously needed some work. She didn’t seem at all concerned by Alex finding out the true extent of her treacherousness.
I straightened up. “I really don’t care one way or the other. Tell him, or don’t tell him. Just stay away from me.”
She sat opposite me, ignoring my demand. “Please, just hear me out.”
“We’re not friends any more, Nicole,” I said harshly, “which means I don’t care what you have to say. There’s nothing to explain.”
Her eyes drifted downward, focusing on the wooden countertop as she traced the grain with her fingertip. It was then that I noticed her loser boyfriend’s name tattooed in ugly black script on the inside of her wrist.
“That’s a nice touch,” I taunted, pointing to her tattoo. “You let your boyfriend brand you. How sweet.”
She pointed at my wedding ring. “So did you, apparently.”
Although secretly pleased she hadn’t become completely devoid of all personality, I didn’t want to deal with Nicole for another second. Convincing Alex to take time out of his day to drive me back to the house was simple. I pulled the jetlag card, and didn’t feel the tiniest bit guilty doing it.
* * *
Thanks to Gabrielle’s decision to spend the day Christmas shopping in the city, I had the house to myself. I should’ve used the time to unpack or prepare dinner, but I didn’t. I snooped around the house like a crook, counting changes that the lady of the manor had made in my absence.
Everything was entirely too neat. Even the linen cupboard had undergone a makeover. Everything in it was impeccably folded and colour coordinated. I moved to the kitchen, setting my sights on the overhead cupboards. One by one, I opened them, studying the contents. Most of our tableware had come courtesy of Floss Davis and her generous desire to cook for us a few times every week for fifteen years. We very rarely returned her dishes, meaning we had more Pyrex than we could ever use. Not any more. The cupboards now boasted a bewildering array of stylish cookware. I scowled, cursing the Parisienne as I slammed the doors shut. I was being most unreasonable. It wasn’t my house any more. I hadn’t lived here for a long time, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could live here again.
Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) Page 3
