by Jo Leigh
“Even you have to admit it could use a few repairs.”
“I’ll get to them before winter hits, how about that?”
“How about you hire someone before winter?”
“Why? I’m perfectly capable—”
“I’m not saying that. But come on, why should you? You already do too much. Tell you what. Now that I’m a rich attorney, let me do this for you. I didn’t get you anything but a card for your last birthday.”
“Absolutely not. You put that money into savings. Jeez, I want you to retire early so you can come back home where you belong. This town needs a Cricket. Bad.”
She reached over and took his hand. God, his skin was dry and spotted. So much exposure to the sun. His words, though, they brought a small lump to her throat. “Okay. We’ll discuss the repairs later. Right now, I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
His eyes had narrowed, and Cricket immediately put off the question she’d been about to ask him. “Do you ever go up to Sam’s Sugar Shack?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You know the new bartender?”
“There’s a new bartender?”
“Maybe not new,” she said, realizing it had been three years. “Tall, lean, muscular build—”
“Oh, you mean Wyatt?” Ronny frowned and turned to the window. “Why, is he here?”
Her throat tightened and she almost took a look outside, herself. “Are you expecting him?”
“No,” Ronny said. “I figured you must have seen him on your way over. He runs most mornings, past here, to the fish market. Sometimes he likes to hang out here or at the market, just to shoot the breeze.”
“Does he own Sam’s?”
Ronny nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Yeah. For a couple years now. Good guy.” A smile tugged at Ronny’s mouth. “As long as you don’t bother his waitresses or get rowdy. He doesn’t care if you’re a local or not, you have too much booze and act up, he’ll put a stop to it. Always calm, but tough. Like you know he could kick your ass, so you just might as well walk it off.”
“I’m sure that’s never happened to you.”
Ronny laughed. “I have many sins, Baby Girl, but overindulging in alcohol isn’t one of them.”
“I suppose that doesn’t go for the recreational weed I can still smell in the rugs?”
He laughed again but before she could tell him she wasn’t calling him out on his habit, there was a knock on the door. A banging, actually.
“Dammit, I told you guys to stay away today,” Ronny yelled, and goodness, his voice hadn’t weakened a bit.
“Ronny,” some guy yelled back. “Don’t be like that. Hector said your daughter’s hot. We want to meet her.”
“Beat it!”
“Besides, there’s a sweet two-foot swell coming in, and you’ll be sorry if you miss it. Come on, man.”
“You want to escape, now’s the time,” Ronny said, inclining his head. “I bet you can still crawl out through your bedroom window.”
Cricket grinned. “You knew about that?”
His look told her more than words.
“No. I’d actually like to meet these young hooligans. Make sure there are no unsavory characters.”
“Except me?”
“Except you.”
The front door, never locked to her knowledge, squeaked open. “So, it’s okay if we come in? It’s just me, Ted, Igor and Wendy. The rest of the guys are still out there.”
Cricket mouthed, “Igor?”
Her dad just laughed as the door opened farther. “Ronny?”
“Fine. But you don’t touch. Anything. Especially the fresh coffee. You want some, you heat up the stuff in that pot by the microwave.”
The boys and Wendy came in a rush, as if they’d all been huddled by the door. Wendy was a pretty girl in a very small bikini top and boy’s trunks. Her long hair was pulled into a braid down her back, and she was tan with bright green eyes and the pink lips of a teen. There had been a time when Cricket had looked a lot like that. Not the eyes so much as the innocence.
The boys were a range of heights and ages. One kid looked no more than fourteen or fifteen, and one might have gotten into the bar without a fake ID. But they all looked like surfers, as close to the California stereotype as they could get without a Malibu tattoo. It felt as if they’d all looked like that, from the time she’d learned to surf herself, at the tender age of nine.
Someone whistled. “You are hot.”
“Thanks. Also, too old and wise to get mixed up with surfers.”
“Hey.” That came from a chorus of voices.
“Besides,” she said, finishing her coffee. “I’ve got to get back to the hotel and meet the gang.”
“Who came?” Ronny asked.
“Everyone but Meg.”
“Jade?”
“Yeah. Even Jade. It’s great. Anyway, I’ll come by tomorrow, if you don’t have any charters or surfing lessons.”
“I’ve got an early evening charter, other than that I’ll be here.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around her again. “You be careful with those hill people, all right?”
She refrained from reminding him he’d married one of them. “I’m always careful.”
“Don’t go yet,” the taller surfer said, moving in closer. “We haven’t even been introduced.”
“Let me guess. You’re a surfer from New York or New Jersey who’d heard about the great surfing at Temptation Bay, and about Ronny Shaw in particular, and this is your first season on the beach, probably sharing a room at the motel with three or four of your new friends?”
“How’d you know I was from Jersey?” he said, in an accent so thick it could paint walls.
Cricket smiled. “You take care of him,” she said, nodding at her father. “And listen to what he says.” It was time to get away. Now, before the rest of them screwed up their courage. She wanted to take her time walking back to the hotel, and with any luck, she just might run into Wyatt.
Chapter Six
WYATT WOKE WITH a start, his hand reaching under his pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. “Shit,” he said, his mouth dry and his eyes blurry. It was later than he normally woke, but now, as thoughts started forming, he knew exactly why he felt like a war was at his door.
It was Adam’s birthday.
He needed coffee. After throwing off the sheet, he stumbled to the coffeepot that had been programmed to brew three hours ago and managed to pour himself a mug. He put it in the microwave and hit the button before he went to the bathroom. After he’d splashed his face with ice-cold water and taken care of business, he retrieved the blessedly hot coffee. Leaning his hip against the counter, he sipped from the mug, hoping his head would clear some more before he made any decisions.
By the time he finished his second mug, he knew he was going to have to go for a run despite the late hour. It was already hotter outside than he liked it, but there was no getting around the fact that he’d think more clearly after he’d done a few miles. He’d stayed up till three listening to Sabrina, while trying to hide just how much he wanted to beat the crap out of her worthless boyfriend. Luckily, Tiffy, who also knew the problem, had stuck around and offered Sabrina a safe place for the night. No denying she’d go back to the bastard. She always did.
Wyatt pulled on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, then stuck his key in his pocket, grabbed his cell to put in the other one, but stopped as he noticed the text message.
It was from Peter, Adam’s grandfather. Wyatt didn’t need to open the text to know what it was about. They wanted him to come to dinner tonight. To celebrate.
He put the phone in his pocket and left his apartment, stopping when he saw Becky halfway up the stairs.
“You’re going running now?”
He nodded. “Got up late. B
ad night.”
“Sorry about that.” Becky looked polished, as if nothing could possibly be wrong with the day. Her strawberry blond hair was up in a neat twist, her dress a pale floral, sandals with a moderate heel. Of course, her makeup was perfect for a Navy officer’s wife. Except when she got close, he could see that even makeup couldn’t quite hide the red tinge along her lower lid. “I’m sure they’ve called already.”
“Texted.”
“They’re learning. They want to be experts by the time the kids are old enough to have their own phones. Or at least can spell.”
“Josh can spell.”
Her anxious expression needed no translation.
“Hey, he writes his name like a champ.”
“You don’t have to go tonight,” she said softly. “Unless you’ve said something to the contrary, I’ve already told them you have to work.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t want to go. But the kids do. They like that there’ll be cake and ice cream. In fact, I’m on my way to drop them off. They get to help with the frosting and decorations.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m going to spend some quality time by myself, doing nothing. I haven’t had that in a while. I’ll join them later.” She turned to stare out at the sea. “It always starts out as a party but then...well, you know. It’s more like an annual tribute now. I mean, not that I begrudge them. But every holiday it’s the same.”
“I know. It’s hard.”
“The family is wonderful, and I love them all so much. But it’s almost three years now, and I worry that at Peter’s and Yvette’s ages, hanging on to the grief will hurt them.”
“Those kids of yours help keep them going. And you’re like one of their own.”
She looked at him again, her blue eyes welling. “So are you.”
His breath caught. “They’ve known me a long time.”
“Anyway, go for your run. The car’s going to get too hot to leave the kids in it. And yes, smart-ass, all the windows are open, and they’re drinking their juice boxes.”
He took the next three steps to get close to her. “I never doubted it for a moment.”
His hand went to her arm. “Look, I’ll go tonight.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“I promise it won’t kill me.”
Becky shook her head. “I think it’s good to start weaning everyone. Next holiday we’ll just do a pop in, or something.”
“Are you sure? Because I can—”
“I’m sure.” She nodded, turned and hurried down ahead of him.
Watching her, the way she straightened when she got near her SUV, hearing Josh say, “Mom, guess what?” made Wyatt ache. He’d never get the hang of the different holidays. But Adam’s birthday was the worst. It always felt as if Wyatt were intruding if he went, that he was just a terrible reminder of what everyone had lost.
Maybe even worse, was that he’d never wanted Adam’s grandparents to think he was trying to be a substitute. Even if he wanted to be, he’d be lousy at it. Adam had been a great husband and father. Wyatt had been told several times that he was a nice guy, but a lousy boyfriend. And as a husband? A dad?
Hell, now he wasn’t even the good son.
That got him moving, racing down the stairs straight past the already-open bar to the sand. It really was late. He’d have to dodge people. Not that he minded. He needed his mind to be on his gait, his time. No one but him gave a shit, but he liked to beat his best time once a week. He’d already done that two days ago, but who cared.
In this heat, it would be difficult. He wanted difficult.
Even with hustling, his thoughts couldn’t stay just on his pace despite the rhythm he worked to establish. He kept thinking about Peter and Yvette, and how they would decorate the house with a banner they kept, and how Adam’s pictures would be all over the mantel and the walls, and in the kitchen, and in the hallway. Interspersed with photos of the grandkids and wedding photos. But Adam’s portrait was the only one with a black ribbon around it.
How they loved his friend. The two of them used to gorge on Yvette’s packages of cookies and candy whenever they knew where the unit was going to be. She’d always sent double, knowing Wyatt would steal half, and borrow the extra socks.
His mom had sent stuff, too, but she’d never been extravagant. Not with food or supplies, or letters for that matter. Too busy being an officer’s wife. With the Marshes, including Adam, family always came first. In Wyatt’s family, it was duty.
“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”
Wyatt recognized the voice before he spotted Delia, who was standing at her stall at the fish market. How was she already almost sold out? He checked his watch. Damn late. And nope, hadn’t broken any records. Down by six seconds. It didn’t matter.
“How are you, Delia?” he asked, slowing to a crawl, wishing he’d brought his water bottle. He rarely forgot it.
“You’re sweating like a pig. You want some water?”
“Yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”
The stands were cooled very pleasantly with misters and fans, and the ice that was constantly replenished under the morning’s catch. He could see from the scarcity that the local chefs had been by, not just for the restaurants, but for the hotels and B&Bs, and then there were the locals, who knew when to show up. He’d often gone home with a fish so fresh it’d barely stopped wiggling. One of the great joys of living near a fishing village.
“So this reunion, huh?” Delia said. “Damn prep school a-holes.”
“They’re not all a-holes.”
“No. That’s ’cause some of them come from the south.”
She meant the fish side of town, he knew. That rivalry wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.
Delia had to be over sixty-five, but she was out here every day until most of the catch was sold. During tourist season, that was pretty early. Today, she’d be wrapping things up soon. He thought about buying some fish but he wasn’t finished running, and it was too hot to lug a striped bass home. “But they pay a pretty penny for seafood.”
“Damn straight they do. I see ’em coming, I put out the other prices.”
He’d known that for a long time. It had been almost a year before she gave him the local rate. “That’s wicked smart, Delia,” he said, using his best Rhody accent. “Say hi to Fred, would ya?”
“Your accent’s still crap, you know.”
“I’ll keep trying.” Instead of running back to the bar, he was going to go to the hotel, find out what the schedule was for the reunion crowd. He knew there was a big dinner tonight, but he might let a few of the bell staff know he’d have a special going on.
His trip had nothing to do with hoping to see Cricket. Nothing at all.
* * *
CRICKET FOUND THE gang in the perpetually crowded bar off the lobby.
“I ordered a pitcher of sweet tea,” Jade said, just as Cricket sat down between Harlow and Ginny.
Harlow grabbed the small menu displayed in the middle of the table. “Guess who’s here?” she said, glancing at Jade. “Fletcher Preston.”
“So. What do I care?”
Cricket and Harlow laughed. Ginny only smiled. She looked tired. Cricket wished she had more time here. To go see her, to meet Tilda. But she was leaving Monday morning, and God, she didn’t want to think about that. Not when her nights had been crowded with worry.
Jade checked for the waitress, then pushed back her flowing copper hair, the hair she’d hated in school because the boys made fun of her. She wore tamer makeup now, and curled her hair, and wore nail polish that wasn’t black. Getting away from Temptation Bay had done wonders for her, although she was still Jade. Ready to stand up to anyone.
“You were hot for him all of junior year.” Harlow sat
up taller, smiling as the pitcher arrived at the table.
“At least you’re not denying it,” Ginny said once they were alone again, and Jade was pouring. “Did he ever ask you out?”
“No.” Jade grunted while taking her first sip. “Men are dopes.”
Cricket smiled.
Ginny and Harlow grinned. “Not all men.”
“Most men.”
“So, you’re not seeing anyone, I take it?” Cricket said.
“Nope.”
“What do you do about sex?” Harlow asked, not in the least abashed by her question.
“That’s what one-night stands are for,” Jade said. “No fuss, no muss and no disappointments. Except when they’re...” She held up her hand, index and thumb two inches apart.
“I’ve missed you, Jade Kelly,” Ginny said, laughing. “A lot.”
Jade gave her a look. “What about you? Living here and all. You getting any?”
“With Tilda around? God, no. I don’t even remember getting any. I think I’m actually a virgin again. Technically.”
“Oh, honey.” Harlow covered Ginny’s hand with her own. “That’s what reunions are for. You have a babysitter, right? Tonight’s your night. We’ll all help you find someone decent.”
“Someone from school? No, thanks.”
“A stranger, then. Honest. There are lots of guys here, and if it’s someone on vacation or here just for the golf tournament, you never have to see them again. It’s perfect.”
Ginny blushed, but grinned. “I did shave all the important parts.”
“That’s the spirit.” Harlow drank some more, looking around at the packed tables. “I wouldn’t mind a dip in the water myself. Although, I don’t know. There’s someone in LA that I’ve been kind of seeing. No one special, though. Another teacher. Science and math. You’d like him, Jade.”
“Just because I’m a chemist doesn’t mean I instantly bond with all other science nerds. Especially the men, superior jerks. When I open my store, I’m only hiring young women who are interested in STEM, and I’m going to mentor my ass off.”
“Wait?” Cricket put down her drink. “Opening your what?”
