Cottage at the Beach (The Off Season)

by Lee Tobin McClain

  Erica, Amber and Hannah watched, giggling, as Kirk changed directions and sped up his pace.

  “Old people aren’t that much different from high school kids,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “I thought Julie liked Officer Greene, but now it looks like Kirk is hitting on her, too. But I thought Kirk liked Mary.”

  “Drama is drama, no matter what your age.” Amber turned to Erica. “Honey, I have something for you,” she said, and pulled out a box containing a silver-and-sapphire heart locket.

  “Mom’s locket!” She met Amber’s eyes, her own filling with tears.

  Amber nodded. “She gave it to me and told me it was for my wedding. It’s old and it’s blue and now, for you, it’s borrowed. From me.”

  Erica hugged Amber carefully, and then Hannah fastened the necklace around her neck. They all hugged, and both Erica and Amber shed a few tears.

  “She’s watching from heaven,” Amber said, her voice husky.

  “I know she is.” And she did.

  A man on a bicycle approached the church. He leaned it against a tree, straightened his ponytail and unhooked a gift-wrapped package from the back of the bike. He looked around the crowd.

  Erica sucked in her breath and caught Trey’s eye. She nodded sideways, pointing at the man.

  Trey’s eyes widened, and he said something to Denny and then strode across the grass. He wrapped his father in a bear hug, then tugged him toward the seats and introduced him to a couple of guests.

  “It’s almost time,” Hannah said, and fussed a little with both sisters’ dresses.

  Erica watched Trey as he walked back to the front of the gathering, greeting people and then going to stand by Denny, and her heart seemed to expand. Trey looked so, so handsome that she got a little lost.

  She’d learned an incredible amount from opening herself to Trey, and this glorious love was the result. A family, too, because it turned out LJ would be living with them as a foster child when they returned from their honeymoon.

  Trey caught her looking and smiled, wide and true. His dreams were fulfilled, too. He’d gotten serious about counseling, wanting to avoid the mistakes he’d made in his first marriage and be the best husband possible—and that had been his idea, not Erica’s, since she already thought him pretty much perfect. Still, he’d shared with her some of his childhood wounds and she’d shared her fears about the future, and just the ability to talk about it made it better. Like Erica, he’d fully immersed himself in the life of Pleasant Shores.

  The wedding was beautiful. The teenagers were quiet and respectful, but cheered and applauded at the right times. Amber gave Erica away, and Hannah served as her maid of honor, and Denny, of course, was best man. Julie and Mary sang a duet about love, their voices ringing rich and true.

  Trey and Erica had just finished their vows when a sharp bark sounded. Suddenly, Ziggy broke away from Shane, who’d been charged with keeping him under control. The big goldendoodle took off after a seagull, and King took off after Ziggy.

  “King!” Trey called.

  “Ziggy!” Erica stood on tiptoe to see her dog over the crowd. “Stop! Sit!”

  Ziggy stopped and looked from Erica to the seagull as if he were pondering his decision. King turned and trotted back to Trey, and Ziggy followed more slowly, looking back at the gull, who cawed laughter at him.

  Rather than returning to the teens who’d been watching them, King came and sat at Trey’s side, attentive, and Ziggy took up the same posture at Erica’s.

  “So adorable,” one of the guests said, and almost everyone raised a camera.

  “Looks like the dogs have stolen your thunder,” the pastor said, a big smile on his face. “Trey, you’d better hurry up and kiss the bride.”

  Trey pulled her into his arms, and Erica felt all the excitement in his touch, the anticipation of their wedding night and honeymoon.

  But first, they would spend the evening with their friends and family and lovable dogs in Pleasant Shores, this beautiful community that had become their home.

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  MANY PEOPLE HAD a hand in getting The Off Season series off the ground. I’m very grateful to my agent, Karen Solem, font of sensible ideas; to my editor, Shana Asaro, who pushes me to make my stories the best they can be; and to HQN’s editorial director, Susan Swinwood, who took the time to meet with me during the RWA conference in New York and got me thinking about shifting this book’s setting from the Jersey Shore to the Chesapeake Bay. The art and marketing departments at HQN have been patient and dedicated, and I am grateful to them for their hard work.

  My writer friends give me so much support, and I am blessed to have them. Kathy Ayres read a draft of the proposal and gave valuable feedback, and my Wednesday morning writers’ group offered thoughtful critique of several sections. Sandra Belle Calhoune, Dana R. Lynn and Rachel Dylan are continual sources of writerly encouragement and sympathy. The amazing Susan Mallery has been extremely generous with her knowledge of the publishing world, and I am beyond grateful for her very kind endorsement of the series.

  On the personal side, thanks are due to Bill, my companion of the heart, always willing to drop what he’s doing and take a research trip that turns out to be the best fun ever. My beautiful and resilient daughter, Grace, puts up with subpar cooking and housekeeping, keeps me young and makes me laugh. The goofy young goldendoodle who frolics through Cottage at the Beach is modeled on my Nash, whose antics keep me on my toes.

  Cottage at the Beach deals with the difficult topics of ovarian cancer, chemotherapy and genetic mutations that run in families, putting certain members at increased risk of developing the disease. My mother, Janet L. Tobin, survived melanoma and ovarian cancer before finally succumbing to pancreatic cancer. Much of my knowledge of the emotional impact this horrible disease can have on a family comes from Mom’s difficult battle. Just within the past year, genetic testing let me know that I’ve inherited a mutation that increases the likelihood of breast and gynecologic cancers, and facing that challenge brought me into contact with many much younger women who face the same sort of heartbreaking risks, difficulties and decisions as Amber and Erica. Hence this book is dedicated to my mother and to the many young women who face their genetic predisposition to cancer with courage and grace.

  Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in The Off Season series, Reunion at the Shore, from Lee Tobin McClain!

  Reunion at the Shore

  by Lee Tobin McClain

  CHAPTER ONE

  RIA MARTIN SHOULD have enjoyed the chance to escape the month-end paperwork for the Chesapeake Motor Lodge, should have relished the soft fall breeze. But as she hurried toward her teenage daughter’s school, her stomach churned.

  Can you come pick up Kaitlyn, Mrs. Martin?

  October, and it was the third such urgent text message since Kaitlyn had started eighth grade. Her heart ached for her sensitive younger daughter, and she wished she could just hug her and make everything right again. But hugs hadn’t helped; Kaitlyn had skipped three classes in a row, again. Her grades were slipping and her reputation as a star student was morphing into that of a star troublemaker. What had happened to her sweet daughter?

  She knew at least part of the answer: adolescence, an AWOL father and a too-busy, stressed-out mother. Guilt clawed at her. She needed to find a way to connect better with Kaitlyn, figure out what was wrong, make sure she knew she was loved. Needed to plain old spend more time with Kaitlyn, even though they seemed to grate on each other’s nerves these days. Typical mother-daughter stuff, but Kaitlyn took everything deeply to heart. She always had.

  Kaitlyn needed her father, now more than ever. She’d always been a daddy’s girl. Anger at her ex made Ria’s heart race and her steps quicken, and she deliberately slowed down and took a couple of deep breaths. It would do no good to take that anger out on Kaitlyn. S
he needed to put it where it belonged.

  The private school’s parking lot was small, the place surrounded by trees on two sides and backed by the Chesapeake Bay. She paused a moment, deliberately, made herself look at the natural beauty that usually calmed her. She’d been fortunate to get tuition assistance when they’d moved here last year, part of a displaced-homemaker scholarship program. Such a great opportunity for her girls. Or so she’d thought.

  Obviously, a great school wasn’t enough to help Kaitlyn, not now, anyway. She needed to get Drew reinvolved in his daughters’ lives. She paused at the bench outside the school’s front door, sat down and tapped Drew’s number on her phone.

  This time, it wasn’t even him asking callers to leave a message. “The mailbox is full,” recited a mechanical voice.

  For just a second, worry overrode anger. Had something happened to him?

  But no. If it had, she’d have heard. Yes, he was two hours away in Baltimore, but his department had her number and would let her know if, God forbid, he’d been killed in the line of duty.

  No, this was just Drew being irresponsible, which was totally out of character, but then, men went nuts when they got divorced. It was the nature of the gender. She thrust the phone toward her purse, missed the pocket and grabbed for it as it fell to the ground.

  “Ria! What are you doing?”

  Her mother’s voice startled her. When she looked up to see Mom’s concerned face, she felt like bursting into tears. But she didn’t, of course; she was a competent adult. “Being an idiot,” she said as she snagged the phone and looked at the face of it. “I think I cracked it. What are you doing here?”

  “I got a text about Kaitlyn.”

  Ria stood and frowned. “I did, too. Why would they text both of us?”

  Mom shrugged. “Sometimes, when they can’t reach you...” She trailed off.

  Her perpetual mom-guilt ratcheted up a couple of notches. It was true; sometimes she couldn’t be reached, caught up in the day-to-day management of a busy motel.

  She’d never wanted to be that mom, focused on her career instead of her kids. But when she and Drew had split, working only part-time hadn’t been an option anymore. Thank heavens they’d moved to Pleasant Shores and were close to Mom, who’d picked up a ton of slack for Ria over the past year and a half. Especially when the disaster had happened, the one Mom didn’t even know about, because nobody knew. “I’ll take it from here, Mom. You do too much for me already.”

  “Are you sure? I’m glad to help.”

  “No, it’s fine. You go ahead back to work.”

  “I’m done for the day. I’ll meet you at your place, if you’d like.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  As Ria watched her mother walk away, she longed to call after her: “Please, stay. I don’t know what to do.”

  * * *

  KAITLYN SCRUNCHED DOWN in the chairs outside Pleasant Shores Academy’s administrative offices and watched her mom talk to the school counselor. Despite the fact that she was sure to get yelled at, seeing Mom was a huge relief.

  Both foreheads wrinkled, and both women kept glancing her way. Poor Mom, always so stressed, was just getting more so with this new problem. It was all Kaitlyn’s fault. She wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms and cry like a six-year-old, but that wasn’t an option. For one thing, her mother drove her crazy these days. For another, she’d be tempted to tell Mom what she’d done.

  That could never happen. Thank heavens she hadn’t told Mrs. Gray, the counselor, anything substantial.

  Maybe the woman sensed it, because she and Mom both turned and beckoned to her. “There’s only one period left, so why don’t you go ahead and go home,” Mrs. Gray said. “You and your mom have some talking to do.”

  She stared daggers at the woman, who patted her shoulder. “It’s not always easy for mothers and daughters,” she said, “but communication is so important.”

  Well, duh. Unfortunately, communication wasn’t exactly her family’s specialty.

  They got halfway across the parking lot before Mom started in on her. “I know eighth grade isn’t easy. But you’re old enough to keep control of yourself and stay in class.”

  Kaitlyn pressed her lips together, because what did Mom know about eighth grade? What did she know about Kaitlyn’s life? At a school where everyone else had been together since kindergarten, Kaitlyn was still considered a new girl and a summer person after a year and a half of living here full-time. It didn’t help that she was the biggest and tallest girl in her class and had gone from an A-cup to a D-cup practically over the summer.

  In the car, she breathed a sigh of relief. Getting away from school felt so, so good. She wished she could get away from Pleasant Shores entirely, just go back to Baltimore for a month like they’d been supposed to do over the summer with Dad.

  Not that Pleasant Shores Academy was a horrible place, or at least it hadn’t seemed to be when she’d started there last year. It was much smaller than the public school she and her sister had attended before their parents’ divorce, and she’d liked that, thought it would be easier to make friends. It was definitely easier to stand out as a star student.

  But when everything went south, a small, gossipy school wasn’t what you wanted. She’d learned that the hard way.

  “So what exactly happened?” Mom asked as she started the car.

  “Don’t yell at me!”

  Mom opened her mouth, closed it, took a yoga breath. She had no idea how irritating that was obviously. “I asked a question,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly now, as if Kaitlyn were a toddler, “in a normal tone of voice.”

  The fact that she was right didn’t matter. “Just leave me alone,” Kaitlyn said, and her voice started to shake.

  “Oh, honey.” Mom reached out and rubbed her arm as she had when Kaitlyn was little and scared. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry it hurts.”

  Tears welled up and she jerked away. “Don’t!” If Mom kept on in this sympathetic voice, she would fall apart.

  Mom’s jaw clamped, and she didn’t speak again until they walked in the door of their house, adjacent to the motel. Grandma was there—thankfully—and from the smell of things, she’d cooked a lasagna. Normally, Kaitlyn loved her grandmother’s lasagna, and she hadn’t eaten anything since the granola bar Mom had forced on her this morning.

  But her stomach felt too upset to even think of eating.

  She headed up to her room, ignoring Mom’s protest, then stopped halfway up the stairs to listen to what Mom would say about the whole scene. She only had to wait a few seconds.

  “Is she okay?” Grandma asked.

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to go up and see if she’ll talk to me.”

  “Give her a little time,” Grandma said. “Sometimes Mom is the last person an upset fourteen-year-old wants to talk to.”

  “But...well.” Her mother’s voice sounded sad, almost hopeless. “I guess you’re right, but it’s frustrating not being able to do anything to help.”

  “Have you talked to her dad? He always connected so well with Kaitlyn.”

  “No, because I haven’t been able to reach him. His mailbox is full and he’s not answering his phone.”

  Her grandmother tsked, and they talked a little bit about whether Kaitlyn’s sister, Sophia, could help.

  As if. Sophia was too caught up in her own excellent social life to give more than a pitying glance to Kaitlyn.

  “You know what,” her mother said to Grandma. “This isn’t Sophia’s responsibility, and like you said, I’m not connecting real well with Kait these days, no matter how hard I try. I’m going to go find Drew.”

  “Oh, honey,” Grandma said in exactly the same way Mom spoke to Kaitlyn. “Is that a good idea? I’m glad to stay with the girls, of course, but...”

  Kaitlyn closed
her eyes. Yes, yes, please yes. Having her big, strong police-officer dad in the area might get Hunter Gibson and his crew off her case.

  “It’s the only idea I can think of. I know I can get information out of Michael or Barry.” Those were the officers Dad was closest to on the force. They’d been coming to their house since Kaitlyn was small.

  “But if he doesn’t want you to know where he is...” Grandma trailed off.

  “At this point,” Mom said, “I don’t really care what he wants.”

  “You don’t want to catch him in an awkward position.”

  Kaitlyn almost gagged. She did not want to think of her father in an awkward position.

  “Just because Dad ran around within seconds of leaving you, that doesn’t mean Drew is doing the same thing.”

  “Of course it doesn’t, honey, but you still might not want—”

  “He hasn’t seen the girls for three months. Totally outside our visitation agreement. The excuse he made for not taking them over the summer was ridiculous, especially since he texted it to me. Didn’t even have the courtesy to call.”

  “Are the support checks coming?”

  “Yes, he’s great about that, but being a father isn’t just about money. They need to see him. Kait especially.”

  They went on talking, but Kaitlyn didn’t linger to hear any more. Her mom would go bring her dad home, and Dad would make everything better.

  * * *

  AS RIA DROVE through their old Baltimore neighborhood, memories flooded her. She’d walked through these tree-lined streets, holding Sophia’s hand and pushing Kaitlyn in a stroller. There was that little corner restaurant where she and Drew had gone on date nights. Their old church, where they’d attended in the early days, before Drew got too busy with extended shifts and Ria got too bitter.

  She lowered the window, and the smell of autumn leaves brought back more memories. She tried to focus on the city noises: cars and horns and sirens from a busier street nearby. She didn’t miss that. She loved the quiet of Pleasant Shores.