by Bellus, HJ
Unexpected Gift
HJ Bellus
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Unexpected Gift
Copyright © 2018 by HJ Bellus. Small Town Girl Books, LLC.
Edited by: Ultra Editing/Emma Mack
Formatting: HJ Bellus
Cover Designer: Dana @Designs by Dana
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication-
To my Grandma Faye who always made Christmas special for everyone in her life. I’ll never be able to wrap a gift like you and I hope to be half the amazing woman as you were.
Love,
Heidi Jo
Chapter 1
“It’s been reported that the king of country, Roan McDaniels, has been released from rehab, but what has his fans puzzled is it seems he’s gone into hiding. There hasn’t been one sighting of him beside being seen with his head ducked down walking from Full Circle rehab center. If you can hear this Roan you have an army behind you and we need our King back,” the DJ’s voice fades as Roan’s last number one hit serenades through the speakers.
The rumble and gravel his voice expresses, makes my knees weak, just like it has always done. Roan may be a whiskey man, but he’s a fine wine to me. He only gets better with age and that fact pisses me the hell right off.
“Screw this shit.” I punch at the radio on the kitchen island with my finger coated in dough and flour. It leaves behind a mess, but silences the beauty of the man I once gave my whole heart to.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Grace pounds her toy-measuring scoop on the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself this time.
My life is the poster child for one damn hot mess, complete with a messy bun and yoga pants.
“Grace, that’s a naughty word. Sorry, Mommy shouldn’t have said it.” I kneel down in front of her.
Grace shrugs her shoulders and begins blowing air bubbles while playing with her cooking toys. I kiss the top of her head and go back to baking the dozens of pies. Thought my life was ending the moment I found out I was pregnant and single. It devastated me and also changed my life forever.
Getting knocked up by a passerby in our cozy resort town was humiliating to say the least. What was even worse was when I called the sexy one night stand man to find out he was married and had three children with no interest of entertaining a love child. He sent a check to the B & B I run with instructions to take care of it.
Oh, I took care of it all right by flinging that piece of paper with three zeros on it right into the fire. In that moment, I had to accept my fate with grace. I knew that had to be my baby’s name. I never once thought that a baby boy could be growing inside of me.
“Hey, hey.” The front doorbell above shrills out.
I know it’s not a customer because we always shut down the B & B during Christmas week. It’s been a tradition for years. The one time of year all of my family and close friends invade the inn and celebrate the holiday.
“In the kitchen,” I holler out over my shoulder.
“Me-Moe! Me-Moe! Me-Mo!” Grace hops up and sprints out of the kitchen.
“Wiggle butt!” Ivy squeals. “Get over here.”
Moments later, Ivy strolls in with Grace in one arm and several bags in the other. Grace already has a candy cane in her mouth.
“Ivy.” I pound the counter. “With you alone, Grace is going to get diabetes this week.”
“It’s almost Christmas.” She shrugs then dips her finger in one of the bowls with banana cream filling in it.
“Thought you were bringing your stuff over tomorrow?” I go back to rolling out the final pie crust.
“I was bored. My last appointment canceled, sooo…” She drags out the last word. “Figured I’d come a night early and do your hair.”
I groan knowing there’s no way in hell to avoid it this time: Ivy, my longtime best friend, and the owner of The Bombshell Studio. It’s the only beauty shop in Cringle Cove and very well could be a thriving one in Hollywood. Ivy has talent beyond talent. It’s ridiculous. And the name of her salon goes with her looks. Ivy is a ringer for a bombshell. Tall, silky blonde hair, vibrant ocean blue eyes, and fashion for days. The thing I love about her most is her heart is the size of Texas filled with genuine to God gold.
“None of that shit, Poppy.” Ivy sits Grace on a piece of the counter that isn’t coated in flour.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Grace shakes her head back and forth. “No. No. No.”
I can’t help but let a little laugh escape. “Good girl, Grace, you tell crazy Aunt Ivy that’s a naughty word.”
Grace points a chubby finger at Ivy. “No. No. No.”
Ivy does her best to bite down her smile. “I’m sorry, Momma.”
No matter how much stress rains down in my life like a nasty storm, Grace is my shining sun in all of it. The bills piling up and the lack of tourists the last few seasons have no power over me when my chubby-cheeked angel loves with no bounds.
She’s my mini-me from head to toe. When comparing baby pictures the only way to tell the difference is the style of clothes and crispness of color in the photograph. Ivy begins rummaging through the bags she set on the counter. When she doesn’t find what she’s searching for she slides her overnight bag to the ground.
“I brought dinner from the Diner on Main, three bottles of our favorite wine, and…” In a dramatic fashion, she tugs out the final products. “Hair color and scissors.”
“Me. Me. Me.” Grace pats her head.
She loves going to The Bombshell, sitting in Ivy’s chair and getting her hair done. This would be impossible on most two-year-olds, but Grace has never truly had the baby look because of her hair. She has loads of it. Since she was six months old, I’ve had to pull it back to keep it from her face. I’m sure it’s the Latino hint coming in from the sperm donor’s side.
“Ivy, you know I can’t pay you and before you begin, that costs you money. It makes me feel guilty.”
“Shut your mouth when you’re talking to me. I’m your best friend and practically your sister. This is your Christmas gift. You deserve it. You haven’t let me touch your hair since Grace was born.”
“Me-Moe.” Grace tugs at the front of Ivy’s thick sweater. “Me.”
“Here, Momma.” Ivy spins Grace around, so she’s now facing me with her back to Ivy.
She gently takes out the stray ponies currently in her hair and begins her magic. I lean back on the counter and force myself to focus on all of the miracles surrounding me.
I never asked to run my deceased great aunt’s bed and breakfast here in Cringle Cove. I grew up in a town not far away. And once upon a time, I had big dreams of moving far away from Pennsylvania to sunny California. It had always been mine and Ivy’s dream.
Her parents grew ill and this bed and breakfast, which is a family legacy, needed me. We both ended up here in this small
resort town. It has its perks, but far more downsides. With bigger and fancier cabins and inns going in our family one is on its last leg.
As much as I despised this place, it’s become my home. The floors caught Grace’s first steps, I learned to bake here, and love is at the heart of this place. I square my shoulders vowing not to give up quite yet.
“I’m a bit thirsty, Poppy.” Ivy clears her throat while working half of Grace’s hair in a messy bun.
I smile. “Me, too.”
By the time I have two glasses of wine poured Ivy has managed to put two messy buns on the top of Grace’s head.
“And look what I brought you, Momma.” Ivy opens another bag.
“Canny?” Grace peers into the bag.
I point a finger at Ivy while taking a sip of the bittersweet wine.
“Something better. A pretty.” Ivy tugs out a handful of headbands.
Grace will end up being a fashionista with Ivy in her life. She’s constantly on Instagram following toddler boutiques. Ivy spoils the shit out of her, and I don’t have the heart to scold her about it. Ivy will never be able to bear children of her own due to being barren. We decided long ago that Ivy was meant for other things, so she loves on Grace.
“Mommy.” Grace smiles wide patting her buns.
“So pretty.”
Grace turns to face the bags. Once she eyes the to-go containers she’s on to the next thing — my little wild child. She’s a non-stop girl with more energy than any recorded tornado to date.
Grace pats her tummy. “Nuggets.”
Of course, Ivy brought her favorite meal of chicken nuggets with a side salad drenched in ranch. I make quick work of cleaning off the island putting the last of the pies in the oven and setting the timer.
It’s where we eat dinner even when the inn is empty, right in the middle of the industrial kitchen on the worn island. The stories that this island holds are endless.
Ivy gets Grace settled into her booster seat attached to the side of the island then opens all of our containers. Grace grows fussy waiting on us to get her dinner served.
“The Diner has the best chicken salads. Thank you, Ivy.”
“The least I could do since you’ll be feeding me the rest of the week.” She stuffs a forkful of salad in her mouth and continues to talk around it because we are true ladies like that. “Figured I’d let you finish baking the pies and I’ll get little Momma down for the night then it’s Spa day or I guess night for you.”
I find myself smiling. Giddy inside about the idea of having my hair shined up. “Sounds good.” I point my fork at her. “But nothing too wild. I need to be able to pull my hair back when cooking and such.”
“Okay, Elvira, pretty sure you have a good six inches to spare off that mane of yours. I know exactly what I’m going to do.”
Chapter 2
“Poppy!”
I groan pouring coffee into a mug.
“Oh, dear annoying baby sister.” Another voice bellows out echoing around the three levels of the lodge. “It’s your favorite brothers.”
My head beats out a steady rhythm. Needless to say, I drank most of the wine last night since I remained firm about Ivy staying sober — which didn’t last either. Once we were done, we both went to slamming wine. I’m pretty sure Ivy even went to the whiskey cabinet downing a few shots. We partied like we were in high school. It’s just about as wild as it gets around here.
I crawled into bed with Grace while Ivy had her own dance party in her room. Yeah, yeah, it’s a bad habit, but I don’t give a shit. Grace can sleep with me until she’s eighteen.
I down three pain pills with the gross, cheap coffee when my twin brothers round the corner into the kitchen. Jake and Brad, identical twins who run a construction company in town. They’re thriving right now with some expensive cabins going up in the area. They’d have my back in a heartbeat, but just blame it on my pride.
“Why are you guys here so early?”
They drop their bags next to their feet.
“You guys live in town. You don’t need to be here four days before Christmas.”
“We love you, little sis.” Jake spreads his arms wide open, and Brad follows. The hug from hell ensues. They both wrap me up jerking my body from side-to-side ignoring my shrieks and protests.
“What in the hell do you two want?” I adjust my hair and take a good two steps back from the psychos.
“Breakfast.” Brad rubs down his beard and smiles wide.
“We hear this inn has the best breakie around,” Jake adds.
“Screw off.” I roll my eyes and grab my lukewarm coffee.
“Unkies.” Grace rounds the corner interrupting us. “Unkie.”
Just like they wrapped me up in an annoying hug they do the same to Grace. However, she embraces all of their love. I adore my big brothers, but they do annoy the shit out of me at the same time.
“Canny?” Grace places her tiny palms up.
“Yeah. I got you.” Brad dips his hand in his front pocket pulling out a handful of chocolate candies.
She squeals going for the sugar. I bite down on my retort knowing it ‘tis the season and all that jazz, but seriously my daughter is going to be going into a diabetic coma real soon.
“And look.” Jake tugs something out of his pocket.
I’m shocked when it’s a bright orange carrot. Grace snarls her nose up on point only garnering a chuckle from my brother.
“Sis, go enjoy the morning and don’t forget to get shit to bake stuffing, green bean casserole, oh and Aunt’s butter biscuits. Get on with it.”
I twist my head in confusion, and both of my brothers respond in unison.
“Let’s go visit some horses.”
Grace squeals in delight plucking the carrot from their hands. “Horses.”
“Yep,” Brad smiles wide. “We are going to see our buddy, Hunter, over at Beckett Stables.”
Jake chimes in. “I hear their horses are hungry for carrots.”
“Go. Now.” Grace points at both of them sternly.
They don’t even ask for permission to take my car or daughter. The two brawny men walk out not saying another word.
Ivy catches them before they can disappear hearing most of the conversation. “Momma, you need your pink boots and cardigan to feed horses.”
Grace wiggles out of Jake’s arms and races over to Ivy. She switches her out of the outfit Grace was in.
“Now.” Grace sprints to Jake. “Go now.”
I know they were razzing me for breakfast and in all honesty, Mom would whip it up for them in a heartbeat. It’s how we run. We feed the men in our family, and they take care of us.
Now before any feminist gets all twisted up. The above example is enough proof in my eyes. Jake and Brad always take care of Grace, and before Grace, they made sure their baby sister was taken care of. There are plenty of black eyes in the history of my life more than I care to admit to. No one crossed me with Jake and Brad as older brothers. When I was younger, I hated it, but now it’s an overdue benefit.
It hasn’t escaped me that when the B & B has a roof leak or needs a repair, my brothers were there to fix it claiming their construction company was appointed by the insurance, only to find my claim was denied by said insurance. Or the fact I’ve never had to buy a diaper in my life. There was always an endless supply. Grace loves her ‘unkies’, and I adore them in return. No matter how annoying they are.
“Where are they off to?” Ivy asks eyeing the nasty coffee in front of me.
“They are off to Beckett stables. Meeting up with Hunter.”
“Nice.”
I don’t miss the frown on her face. Jake and Ivy have had a thing for years, but neither of them has had the courage to admit it. I can read both of them like a book, but when it comes to stubborn hearts, there’s no way to tame them.
“Did they notice your hair?”
I run my fingers through my shoulder length hair weaved with caramel highlights and several lay
ers not to mention the thick bangs. “Nope. Their eyes were set on Miss Grace.”
This gets a smile out of Ivy. I swear my little princess runs this place and owns everyone’s hearts.
“Guess this leaves us time.” Ivy has a glimmer of delight mingled with trouble dancing in her eyes. “To stroll the streets of Cringle Cove and show off your new look.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut the hell up, Ivy. We are going to the grocery store to grab the remaining of the ingredients Mom and Dad forgot. She texted me once they left our home town.”
“Okay.” Ivy shrugs. “Grocery shit then strolling Main Street.”
“Ivy.” I shake my head and grab my purse. “No, I don’t need another run in with a tourist that will pay me off.”
I don’t miss the twist of Ivy’s lips. “That’s not what I meant. We are getting groceries then going to get a coffee at Myles’. Don’t care what you say, Poppy, your hair is banging and you’re not in yoga pants or jeans.”
I glance down at my torn skinny jeans, then the unlaced designer boots finishing off the outfit. Yeah, I may have stolen them from Ivy, but hey they’re damn cute and cost over two hundred dollars, which is out of my budget for the time being or forever. It’s my Cinderella moment so why the hell not go for coffee after buying the remaining groceries for my family.
“Lord, Poppy.” Ivy ushers me to the front door. “You know damn well Jake and Brad will eat everything you have now. And will then be asking what’s for dinner tonight. Let’s get groceries.”
I adjust my hobo style purse on my shoulder smoothing out my baggy sweater and nod. “Yes, I’ll take you up on coffee.”
“And flaunting your new look?” Ivy leads me to her car.
“Simmer down, Sally. I said coffee.”
“Mommy wants some attention. Daddy likes.” Ivy wiggles her eyebrows as she fires up her engine.
“Ivy! That’s not what I said.” I throw my head back on the headrest in her fancy mid-size, stylish, all wheel drive SUV. It’s what most of us drive around here in some sort or another. They get the job done in the winter when a few feet of snow falls, and functional in the summer to haul around kayaks and other toys.
