Shaded Amethysts: A small-town love triangle romance (Brunswick Bay Harbor Gems Book 6)

by Ann Omasta

“That would be fantastic!” The delight in Gage’s expression was undeniable.

  Although I wanted to set up a specific time for my kitten visit, I wasn’t sure yet when I would have any free time. The custody case was my top priority right now. It had to be my only focus, despite how much I wanted to be with Gage.

  Not ready to leave him just yet, I asked, “Are you settled into your new place?”

  Gage hadn’t confirmed with me that he’d gotten an apartment, yet he didn’t question how I knew he had one. Evidently, he had already figured out that aspect of how small towns work.

  He nodded in answer to my question before he said, “Yes, it’s fine. I just wish people weren’t so wary of me.”

  I was surprised by his open vulnerability. Most men would hide their insecurities. It was incredibly endearing that he didn’t try to act masculine and invincible in front of me.

  “Give it some more time,” I suggested. “You’re not from Maine, so it will take a while for people to trust you, but they’ll come around.”

  “That’s easy for you to say… Everyone loves you.”

  His kind words made me smile before I revealed, “I’ve been on the wrong side of this town’s opinions when my brother was suspected of a terrible crime. I know how awful it feels to have people whispering behind your back. But these are good, solid people, and they take care of their own. It won’t be long until you’re accepted into their folds.”

  The confidence in my tone must have helped convince him because he finally said, “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  Just as I said those matrimonial words, a man I didn’t recognize bent down on one knee in front of a surprised woman a few feet away from us. The woman covered her mouth with her hand as he pulled a single red rose and a ring box from inside his coat and presented them to her.

  Gage leaned close to whisper just loudly enough for me to hear, “He should have been more original and gone with bell-shaped lilies of the valley, paired with Gypsophila, or baby’s breath. It would have signified everlasting love and happiness.”

  I turned my head toward the charming, surprising man standing just behind me. “How do you know so much about flowers?”

  Gage looked down at the ground as he answered, “There was an audiobook at the prison library about floriography, the language and meaning of flowers. It was one of the few interesting audiobooks available to us, so I listened to it probably a thousand times.”

  Out of the corner of my vision, I saw the tourist man stand, pick up the woman, and twirl her around. I offered them a quick smile of congratulations before turning my full attention back to Gage.

  I was surprised by his open honesty about his time in prison and didn’t want to risk doing anything that might make him feel judged or insecure about sharing pieces of his story with me. After deciding it was best to try to talk about it just as naturally as he had, I asked, “Did you work in the library while you were there?”

  “No, but that would have been great. I was stuck working in the laundry room, and I despise doing laundry. I send all of my clothes out to be washed at the staffed laundromat now and probably always will. It’s so worth the added expense not to have to do it myself.”

  I allowed the surprised chuckle to emerge just before I said, “That’s exactly how I feel about dishes. That was my assigned chore while growing up and, now that I’ve tucked tail and moved back in with my parents, they’ve made me take it back over. If I never have to wash another greasy, dirty dish, it will be too soon.”

  He suggested, “We could cut a deal… I’ll wash your family’s dishes, if you’ll take care of my laundry.”

  My gaze involuntarily flicked down to his crotch as I contemplated laundering his skivvies. Thinking of the intimacy in washing, drying, and folding the clothing that covered his naked body made me swallow audibly. I was so focused on the sexy-as-sin man by my side that I barely took note when the happy, newly-engaged couple jogged away hand-in-hand.

  Suddenly, I realized that the longer I remained silent, the more awkward this situation became, so I said in a croaky voice, “Sure, we can probably figure out a mutually-agreeable arrangement.”

  “You sound like a lawyer already,” he teased me.

  A lobster boat being towed into the harbor caught our attention. I shook my head and said, “That lobsterman’s having a bad day.”

  “Yes,” Gage agreed before adding, “It’s probably a good thing my dream of becoming a lobsterman was foiled before it really had a chance to take off. It looks like a tough way to make a living.”

  I didn’t bother to hide the surprise in my tone when I asked, “You wanted to be a lobsterman?”

  “Briefly,” he answered before leaning down to whisper, “But I get seasick.”

  The idea of this burly, masculine man leaning over the side of a boat was nearly impossible to imagine. I grinned up and said in my best flirty tone, “You are absolutely full of surprises.”

  “You have no idea,” he flirted right back with me, seeming to enjoy our lighthearted banter.

  I angled my head up, in case he decided to kiss me, so I saw the moment the darkness overtook his expression just before he said, “And some of those surprises aren’t the good kind. It’s probably best if you don’t spend any more time alone with me. You deserve a smart, decent, and solid man, like Noah.”

  Before I had a chance to object, Gage turned and abruptly left. I stared up at the turning beacon light and murmured into the wind, “But what if my stupid heart would rather be with you?”

  14

  Avery

  The custody case left me with almost no time to worry about my love life, or rather, my lack of a love life. The hearing was in full swing and Scout’s birth mother, Angie, had hired a team of young, whip-smart lawyers to represent her. They were creating a compelling case that she had been an innocent, depressed single mother, who made a mistake by giving her son away, and had regretted that poor decision ever since.

  The lead counsel representing Angie called Grant to the witness stand. I watched the gorgeous actor wheel himself to the front of the courtroom and get sworn in. We all knew that he was about to be grilled. I just hoped he was able to withstand the heat.

  As we had suspected, the hotshot attorney went straight for the proverbial kill. “Is it true that you abandoned sweet little Scout at a fire station drop-box just days after taking custody of him?”

  “Yes, but––”

  The man cutoff Grant’s explanation with another question, “Is it also true that you were speeding on icy roads and nearly ran over baby Scout and the woman who was holding him just after you gave him up?”

  “Yes, because––”

  The lawyer jumped in again without letting Grant finish. “And the woman, who recklessly carried innocent little Scout into the middle of the road, without using the nearby crosswalk, is now your wife?”

  When the lawyer used a hand wave to indicate Molly at the table next to me, Grant nodded his head.

  “We need verbal answers, please,” the attorney informed him.

  “Yes, it was my wife, Molly,” Grant said in a grim tone, obviously sensing that this was making them sound like unfit parents.

  Molly shifted nervously in her wooden chair, so I reached over to take her hand within mine. Our palms were each clammy, but we ignored that as I tried to infuse love and strength into my grip and send both her way.

  The ace attorney made a flourish of presenting some paperwork to Grant before he asked, “Do you recognize these papers?”

  “Yes,” Grant answered.

  “Please share with the court what these papers are,” the lawyer requested.

  Grant’s face looked like stone as he said, “They are records from a recent emergency room visit after Scout fell through the ice on a local pond.”

  The lawyer’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline as if this was shocking news to him, even though it clearly wasn’t. The realization that the man could use some act
ing tips from Grant would have been laughable, if we weren’t facing such a dire situation.

  “So, for a second time, Scout was placed in a perilous, life-threatening situation during the short time he has been in your care? My, my…”

  The attorney shook his head as if deep in thought. “It seems to me, after these two tragedies involving ice that you would want to raise your son in sunny California, yet you chose to move to Maine where winter lasts… What? The entire year, except for July?”

  A few people chuckled at his lame joke. No one on our side of the room cracked a smile. This proceeding was going too far in the wrong direction for us to see any humor in anything.

  After pausing for the comedic relief, the lawyer continued. “Thank goodness you were able to pull Scout out of the freezing water before he sank into the abyss. Were you right there beside him, watching him closely when the ice cracked?”

  The urge to kick this cocky man nearly overwhelmed me, but I knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything besides angering the judge and getting me thrown in jail.

  Grant turned his exasperated gaze toward his wife before answering, “No, I was stuck on the shore when it happened. The path wasn’t cleared enough for my wheelchair to make it all the way out to where they were playing.”

  “Oh, of course,” the attorney plastered on an expression of fake sympathy before he added, “So, your wife must have been right there keeping an eye on little Scout to make sure he stayed safe then, right?”

  “No, she had returned to shore to check on me because I had received a disturbing phone call with the news that we were being sued for custody of Scout.”

  “The two of you were both distracted by your cell phone while Scout was playing on thin ice?” The judgment dripped from the lawyer’s tone.

  My heart broke into a million pieces as I listened to this attorney twist the situation to make it sound like Grant and Molly weren’t fit to raise their son. The defeated expression on Grant’s face as he grimly nodded his answer made me feel like screaming.

  “Answer verbally, please,” the attorney reminded him as if they were old friends.

  Grant leaned forward to say, “Molly and I were on the shore, yes, but––”

  The lawyer cut him off again. He sounded astounded as he said, “Are you telling me this small child was able to climb out of a hole in the ice on his own?”

  “No, Pepper grabbed him before he sank into the water,” Grant started.

  Before he could continue, the attorney asked, “Oh, you have a friend named Pepper? Is she here at this proceeding today?”

  The man paused and dramatically searched the room as if he was truly looking for Pepper, even though we all knew he wasn’t.

  “No, Pepper is a dog,” Grant clarified.

  The attorney’s eyes widened with disdain. “So, you left the fate of this sweet, innocent little boy in the hands––err, paws––of a dog? I guess we’re all lucky that particular dog happened to be so heroic, since the two of you were indisposed when Scout needed you. No further questions, Your Honor.”

  With that, the attorney turned with a flourish and headed back to his seat.

  I had to force myself to refrain from beating my head against the desk in frustration. If this case didn’t make a complete turnaround, my best friend was going to lose her son.

  15

  Avery

  The opposing legal counsel had presented a rock-solid case that had brought Grant and Molly’s stellar parenting skills into question. Our only hope at this point was to attack Scout’s birth mother’s character to make her seem like an unfit mother.

  Grant’s team of attorneys had been digging for weeks, but hadn’t been able to come up with anything more damning than a couple of unpaid parking tickets against Angie.

  As we sat at the table waiting for the day’s session to start, I remembered Grant mentioning that the woman had a haggard appearance that made her look like she had aged a decade in the months since he’d seen her.

  At the time, I had assumed the grief over missing Scout had caused the premature aging. Court was being called to order when the idea hit me. I grabbed the yellow legal pad on our table and scribbled frantically on it. Demand alcohol and drug tests!

  I shoved the suggestion toward Walter, our side’s lead counsel. He glanced down at the paper before quickly brushing it aside as if he was shooing a bug out of the way.

  Walter questioned Angie from numerous different angles, but couldn’t seem to find a chink in the calm, collected woman’s armor. The only notable thing he didn’t ask her about was her drug or alcohol usage. I couldn’t help but wonder if this omission was because I had suggested it.

  Despite Walter’s best efforts to rattle her, the woman came off sounding like a responsible, caring person, who made a mistake in giving up her son, due to postpartum depression––which she had now completely recovered from.

  When Walter finally sat back down, I was left with very little doubt in my mind that we had lost this case. Our best hope now was that we would get a custody arrangement with as much visitation as the original agreement had offered.

  Even though I’d fully been expecting it, the judge’s verdict completely knocked the wind out of me. The room seemed to swirl before me as the stern woman said, “I believe it is in the child’s best interest to be placed in the custody of his birth mother at her permanent residence in California. The child’s father and stepmother will be granted supervised visits at a mutually-agreeable location for eight hours once per quarter.”

  Molly sagged against me and emitted a quiet sob. Guilt churned in my gut as I realized I had forced the issue and lost Molly and Grant most of the concessions that had formerly been agreed upon. They would have been much better off, if they had ignored me and signed the original agreement.

  The eye daggers Grant was shooting in my direction as I hugged my friend let me know that was precisely what he was thinking, as well. When I shifted uncomfortably under his steady, angry gaze, Molly turned and lunged into his arms.

  Not wasting any time, Angie stood and walked to the back of the courtroom where Molly’s parents were holding the little boy. For a moment, it looked like Molly’s mom might make a run for it with her grandson, but when her husband placed a hand on her shoulder, she nodded solemnly and handed the little boy over to the other woman.

  Molly began wailing in Grant’s arms, “Noooo! Noooo! This can’t be happening…”

  Scout looked confused by the entire exchange. The woman holding him was a stranger to him. Soon, his chubby little face crumpled, and he let out a desperate, high-pitched cry. He reached for his grandmother, who held her palm over her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

  Scout’s new guardian scurried out of the courtroom with the screeching little boy in tow, not even pausing to offer Grant and Molly a chance to say goodbye.

  Proving that, even in the midst of a devastating crisis, she was a mother first, Molly retrieved the diaper bag at her feet and handed it to me. “She’ll need this.”

  I nodded my understanding before racing after Angie and Scout. They were already outside and climbing into a rental car parked on the street when I caught up to them and called out the woman’s name to stop her.

  After handing the packed diaper bag to her, I frowned and asked, “Don’t you need a car seat for him?”

  She tossed the bag into the back seat and climbed behind the wheel of the car before settling Scout in her lap.

  “Oh, we’re not going far,” she responded breezily before slamming the door and practically squealing the car’s tires in her haste to get away.

  I stood in the middle of the road, blinking blankly and not quite able to believe any of this.

  16

  Avery

  I was at a complete loss for what to do. After weeks of spending every spare moment preparing for the custody case, I suddenly found myself with an abundance of free time, but no desire to do anything except mope.

  After apologizing p
rofusely to Molly and Grant, my best friend had kindly assured me that it wasn’t my fault. The quiet judgment in Grant’s unwavering gaze told me that he didn’t agree with his wife’s generous assessment.

  I was almost relieved by his justifiable anger. I deserved his wrath––and much more. What had I been thinking when I inserted myself into such an important, life-altering legal battle? I wasn’t even a lawyer yet. I certainly shouldn’t have been playing with anyone’s life in that manner. It had cost these wonderful people precious time with their son.

  When I got home, Mom baked my favorite peanut butter cup cookies, but even they couldn’t cheer me up. I had screwed up in a monumental way, and I sincerely doubted if I would ever be able to forgive myself for it.

  Needing to get out of the house, I walked slowly into town. I was so consumed by my own misery that I didn’t even notice when Gage joined me.

  “I haven’t seen you in a long time. When I said you deserved a better man than me in your life, I didn’t mean that you should avoid me completely,” he hinted quietly.

  Although my heart rate jumped into high gear as it always did when he was near, I couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to smile at him. Instead, I kept my gaze down at the sidewalk ahead of me and nodded my head.

  Instantly picking up on my sadness, Gage asked, “Bad day?”

  “Yes, for the past several years,” I answered, only half-joking.

  “Ice cream always makes me feel better, and it’s unseasonably warm this evening. How about if I buy you a cone?” he offered kindly.

  I tilted my head to the side in a disinterested gesture, but turned in the direction of the red train caboose parked near the marina that sold ice cream.

  Rather than going up to the window to order, I went to sit at a picnic bench overlooking the water.

  When Gage sat down beside me, he handed me a chocolate ice cream cone. “I wasn’t sure what flavor you might like, but figured chocolate was a safe bet.”