Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two

by Tentler, Leslie

  “I’ll be there at six,” she confirmed, releasing a tight breath as she exited the Volvo. She opened the rear door so Doug could bound out and retrieved her yoga bag from the backseat. It also now contained a copy of Carter’s medical history. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Remind Nora to let us know any time she’d like to see Emily. She calls, but not often. You look good, Quinn.”

  Lifting her hand in a small wave, she watched as Mark’s vehicle disappeared down the residential street that was six blocks from the Rarity Cove public beach. The B&B sat on a roomy cul-de-sac, a little farther back from the other properties. As she went up the sidewalk, she noticed the crepe myrtles on the property’s edge that had recently been pruned back to promote growth in the spring, as well as the trellis against the house’s front that in summer hung heavy with confederate jasmine. A sunroom on the home’s east side, tucked under the outspread limbs of an ancient live oak, made for an inviting spot for guests to relax. The B&B was in no way competition for the large and elegant St. Clair, but was instead patronized by an older, more budget-conscious clientele who preferred the quieter atmosphere and didn’t mind the lack of a pool or distance from the shoreline. However, since it was a weekday in the off season, there were currently no guests. Nora claimed she had turned the four-bedroom home into a B&B as a hobby, but Quinn guessed it was also for the income and to assuage her loneliness. For not the first time, she wondered at Nora’s seeming impassiveness toward her granddaughter, whom she should be doting on. But Quinn knew her mother. If Emily had grown to love Mark’s new wife, Nora was most likely hurt by it.

  As she opened the front door and entered the well-maintained living room, she heard her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

  “Quinn? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, Mom.” She entered the kitchen, seeing Nora at the oven, sliding in a casserole to take to a church social that night. Her mother’s blond hair had faded and was streaked faintly with gray, but she was still prideful about it and wore it long and tied back in a ponytail.

  “I guess he found you since he dropped you off.” Quinn didn’t doubt that her mother had been watching from the window. “What did he want?”

  She wasn’t sure what to say since she’d been tasked with discretion regarding Carter’s presence in town. “He…had a lead for me about a possible job.”

  Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Nora turned to face her. She looked with disapproval at Doug, who trotted past her and went farther into the kitchen, probably to inspect his food bowl. “A job? What kind of job?”

  “PT. Someone he knows is looking for some private help.”

  Nora frowned. “Does that mean you’re planning to stay here?”

  Quinn knew it wasn’t that her mother didn’t want her. It was more that she thought she should be back in San Francisco, trying to work things out with Jake. Quinn couldn’t fault her since she’d never been able to give Nora the full truth.

  “I don’t know, Mom,” she said with a small shrug. “The work would only be for a couple of months, and it pays really well. I told Mark I’d at least talk to the guy.”

  Nora moved closer. Concern lined her face. “Losing a baby is one of the hardest things that can happen in a marriage, Quinn. Especially in a marriage that’s so new. You and Jake need to work through this together. You can’t do that if you just up and run off.”

  “It’s about a lot more than the miscarriage, Mom,” Quinn said quietly, looking away. “I’ve told you, we were having problems before that.”

  “Jake called again this morning, right after you left. He said you weren’t answering your phone.”

  Quinn felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She’d changed cells, but it hadn’t taken long for Jake to get her new number. She suspected Nora had given it to him, although she wouldn’t admit it.

  “Can’t you at least talk to him, honey?”

  Quinn wished once again that she could open up to Nora. Lean on her. Tell her what had really gone on inside her marriage. But in her heart she knew it wasn’t possible. There were things she just couldn’t talk about, especially not with her mother. Humiliating things that embarrassed Quinn deeply and that she knew would upset Nora’s delicate sensibilities. Quinn feared she would look at her differently, or even think there was something wrong with her. She hated that Jake was calling here, manipulating her mother.

  “I know he still loves you,” Nora said hopefully. “We talked for a long time. He wants you back, sweetheart. It’s not too late to drop the divorce proceedings, or at least put a hold on things.”

  Laying a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, she released a sigh. “I know better than anyone that men cheat, if that’s what this is all about. They’re genetically pre-wired for it, and Jake’s a wealthy, professional athlete. There’re bound to be beautiful women throwing themselves at him, and he’s off traveling with the team so much of the time. You married someone famous, Quinn. They’re held to different standards.”

  Quinn tried to ignore her warped rationalization. It wasn’t the first time her mother had speculated on adultery being at the crux of her impending divorce. Quinn’s father—a prominent Rarity Cove physician—had left Nora for a much younger woman when their daughters had still been in high school. She recalled Nora making a spectacle of herself, confronting the other woman in public and trying to hold on to her husband by any means possible, including a halfhearted suicide attempt. The stunt had brought her father back only temporarily. George Reese now lived in Mobile, Alabama, and was raising a new family. His oldest was probably close to being out of high school herself by now. Quinn saw him even less than she did Nora.

  “Just call him back, all right? He sounded so blue.”

  She gave a faint nod, although she had no intention of returning Jake’s call. Pretending to acquiesce gave her an opportunity for escape, though.

  “I’m going upstairs,” she said, then called for Doug, who came skidding around the corner. She picked up the yoga bag she’d dropped on the floor.

  “If you’re insisting on keeping that thing, it needs to be tied up in the backyard.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  Quinn headed back through the living room toward the stairs with Doug on her heels. She heard her mother calling after her, frustration ratcheting up her voice. “You could come to church with me tonight. There’s a potluck dinner. You could talk to Reverend Cutshaw about things.”

  At the top of the stairs, instead of going to her bedroom, Quinn entered the room that had once been her father’s study. It had a large window and built-in bookcases along the walls. It now served as a den for Nora—somewhere she could relax in privacy, other than her bedroom, when the B&B had guests.

  The medical tomes that had once lined the shelves were gone, replaced by her mother’s knickknacks, including her Hummel figurine collection and souvenirs she had collected during her travels. A miniature replica of the Golden Gate Bridge from one of her visits to see Quinn was there, along with an actual San Francisco Breakers game ball that Jake had had the entire team sign for his new mother-in-law. It held a place of honor, prominently displayed on the center shelf. Looking at it in the glass box that contained it, Quinn felt a heaviness inside her. She tried to have sympathy for Nora, who had already lost so much.

  The den had also become something of a memorial to her sister, with framed photos of Shelley everywhere. Shelley had been classically beautiful—blond, with sky-blue eyes and a model’s tall, slender build. Comparisons had been made to Princess Grace. There were photos from Shelley’s time in school, as a cheerleader and as the lead in a musical, and photos of her playing piano with the Charleston Symphony Orchestra. In a few of the images, Shelley posed with Emily as an infant and toddler. But Quinn noticed none of the displayed images included Mark. No wedding photos, either. Those had been banished.

  Admittedly, there were some photos of her, too. Quinn picked up the closest one. She was in her gown, hood and cap after completing her doct
orate at Stanford. Quinn looked nothing like Shelley. She instead took after her paternal grandmother, Fiona, who had been petite and Irish. It was where Quinn’s wavy russet locks had come from, as well as her gray-green eyes. Quinn had been her grandmother’s maiden name, in fact.

  While there were also several candid photos of her with Jake, taken during Nora’s visit to San Francisco, there were no wedding photos, since none existed. They’d eloped after an intense, whirlwind courtship, going off to Las Vegas.

  Briefly closing her eyes, Quinn swallowed down the hard reality. Her mother thought she had won the proverbial lottery when Jake Medero chose her.

  Quinn had once believed that, too.

  At first, it had all been rather Fifty Shades and, truthfully, a little dangerous and exciting. But after their marriage, Jake’s sexual demands had grown baser and more disturbing. Quinn had also learned his dominant, controlling nature in the bedroom extended to other aspects of her life, as well. All the while, he’d continued to do what he wanted and when.

  A bitter taste in her mouth, Quinn thought of the wild, drug-fueled parties he threw, the countless nights with his teammates partying in their home until dawn. He’d had friends there the night she fled the house and miscarried in a hotel room, alone.

  Miscarriages were common in the first trimester. Jake hadn’t even known she was pregnant, nor had he wanted a child. But he’d put on a different face in front of the media, revealing the loss to garner sympathy in a post-game interview. Quinn’s throat tightened with anger and grief. It should have been a private thing, something the world didn’t ever need to know.

  There was no prenup, and Quinn hadn’t asked for even temporary support as part of the separation—she wanted nothing from Jake except her freedom. She deeply regretted that, at his insistence, she had quit her job at Brookhaven so soon after marrying him. She had a small amount of money she’d set aside in a savings account prior to their marriage, which was what she was living on now. It made Mark’s offer even harder to turn down. Quinn sagged onto the couch. Doug pushed his nose into the yoga bag that sat nearby, looking for the treats he knew she had stashed there. Leaning forward to dig into the bag, she handed him one and watched as, tail wagging, he sank onto the rug to devour it.

  Quinn pulled out Carter’s medical records next, as well as her cell phone.

  For a time, she stared at the phone’s screen, wishing she could recapture the inner calm she’d maintained during her yoga practice. Then, with a tense sigh, she checked her voice mail.

  Five messages had been left since morning. One was from Mark, but the rest were from Jake. Apprehension created a knot inside her as she listened to the first one.

  “Quinn, I need to talk to you.” Jake’s voice was a low, repentant rumble. “I know you don’t trust me anymore, and with good reason. But I miss you like crazy, baby. I know I let things get out of control, but I want you to come back home. Everything will change, I promise. Call me back, all right?”

  Quinn swallowed, her mouth dry, as she listened to his next message. It was mostly a repeat of the first one, although his tone had hardened somewhat. By the third message, he was demanding to know what she was out doing—who she was with—that she was too busy to pick up her phone.

  Her throat dry, she listened to the last message, left just minutes ago.

  “You were nothing, Quinn, but I chose you. You can keep pretending like you’re some good little girl, but we both know the truth.”

  His next comments became increasingly vile and degrading. Things she had heard in their bedroom before. Quinn sat through as much of it as she could take. But she didn’t delete the messages.

  Limbs weak, she saved them.

  Chapter Five

  “Why am I just now finding out about this?” Blindsided, Carter stood with Mark in the beach home’s vast living area.

  “Because I didn’t want to give you time to come up with a reason to say no. You’ve always been a little standoffish where Quinn’s concerned.”

  “That should’ve been your first clue to how I’d feel about this,” he countered tensely. “Not to mention, this is supposed to be a going-away dinner for Mercer. Just family.”

  “Quinn is family.” Mark looked pointedly at Emily, who sat cross-legged on the floor nearby as she hunched over a board game with Mercer. His sister was keeping the children occupied while Samantha prepared dinner. Carter watched as Mercer grabbed Ethan around the waist, keeping him harnessed to her so he didn’t knock over the game pieces as he wandered about, a bright yellow Tonka truck in his grasp.

  “Regardless, I get the final say, and it’s not a good idea.”

  Mark frowned, clearly going into older-brother mode. “Give me one reason why not. And by reason, I mean a sane one. We’re looking for a top-notch physical therapist. Quinn’s available, and she’s open to it.”

  Carter didn’t respond, his lips pinching together. Even if Quinn Reese was willing to let what happened in the past stay there, it didn’t mean the situation wouldn’t be damn awkward.

  “Quinn’s who we’ve been looking for,” Mark pressed. “Her credentials are impeccable. And we can trust her completely.”

  Carter thought of the photos the first physical therapist had planned to sell.

  “We’d be doing Quinn a favor, too.” Mark paused as Ethan managed to roll the toy truck onto the game board, sending pieces flying. As Emily voiced her dismay, Mercer pried one of the game pieces from the toddler’s grasp so he couldn’t put it into his mouth.

  “Quinn’s had a tough go of things lately,” Mark confided. “She’s at loose ends and could use the job.”

  Carter recalled what Mercer had told him a few days earlier. She’d heard through the town grapevine that Quinn was back home, staying at her mother’s. She was in the midst of a divorce, and there had been a recent miscarriage, as well. He knew Quinn had married a pro football player not long ago—Jake Medero of the San Francisco Breakers. An aggressive player on the field, Medero was equally renowned for his hard-partying ways and seemed an odd match for Quinn, Carter had thought at the time. But he also knew through Mark that she’d worked at a top sports medicine and rehabilitation center in the Bay Area, which he guessed was where they met. The marriage had been remarkably short, even by Hollywood standards.

  “I gave Quinn a copy of your medical records so she’d have a more thorough history.”

  Carter bristled. “Of course you did. Screw HIPAA and my opinion on any of this.”

  He felt instantly contrite for his sharp comment. Even with a young family and a hotel to run, Mark had willingly stepped into so many aspects of Carter’s life following the attack. While hospitalized, he’d needed Mark to oversee his considerable assets and then later help him make the transition from LA to here, including, admittedly, finding a suitable care team. Staring down at the white pine floor, he released a breath.

  “Look,” he began uncertainly, “I appreciate the trouble you went to. Talking to Quinn on my behalf. I’m sure she’s good at what she does, and I know she holds a special place in your heart.” He wavered, his voice losing power. “But I just don’t want another witness to all this. Especially not someone I know. I’m…not in a good place.”

  Mark said quietly, “I know that. Which is why you need Quinn. Why we all need her.”

  Carter fell silent. The wall console buzzed, indicating someone was at the property’s gate, requesting entrance. He hoped it was Olivia and Anders Bauer—their mother’s gentleman friend—who were arriving, but he knew they had the passcode.

  “She’s here. I told her to park in back.” Mark’s voice held a plea. “Be nice. Just see how this feels. That’s all I’m asking.”

  As Mark went to the console to electronically open the gates, Carter took the television remote from the coffee table, flipping the channel to the closed-circuit-camera view of the driveway. On the screen, an older-model Buick rolled through the entrance, then parked at the bottom of the rear driveway near the li
ne of palmettos.

  “I’ll go meet her.” Mark headed out.

  Carter saw Mercer looking up at him from her place on the floor.

  “Did you know about this?” he asked.

  She pulled Ethan down onto her lap and shrugged. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Carter felt a nerve jump along his already tightened jaw. His entire family had been in on this. He had some physical impairments, but his brain was still fucking intact. He should have been consulted before any of them approached Quinn Reese.

  Calm down. He tried to rein in his frustration. He knew the anger inside him wasn’t about Mark or even Quinn. It was directed at his own weakness. He understood Mark had his best interests at heart. Carter looked at his cane, which leaned against the sofa arm. His strength was waning. He knew he should sit but remained standing.

  Carter was also convinced Mark knew nothing about what occurred between Quinn and him back in high school. Considering Mark’s old-fashioned sense of propriety, if he had known, it would have most likely ended in twenty paces with derringers under the St. Clair’s centuries-old live oaks.

  On the television screen, a woman emerged from the vehicle. Quinn. Carter’s stomach gave a funny little flip of recognition. The bookish glasses from her teenage years were gone, but the fit, slightly busty figure was definitely hers, as was the tumbling auburn hair the ocean breeze whipped around her face, partially concealing her features. She wore dark jeans, boots and a sweater and carried some type of duffel bag. Unexpectedly, a shaggy-looking, wheat-colored dog leaped from the car’s back when she opened the rear door. The dog trotted over to greet Mark as he appeared within the camera’s range. Carter watched as Quinn and Mark talked. Then he pointed her toward the ground-level elevator bay, and they disappeared off-screen. A short time later, they entered the living area. The dog was no longer with them, and Carter figured they must have left it in the solarium.

  “She’s here,” Mark announced to Emily, who looked up from her spot on the floor.