Bella set the ice cream carton on the counter. “Oh, Jess.” Sappiness wasn’t her M.O., but she couldn’t not follow that up with a hug. She wrapped her arms around her best friend. “I choose you too.”
With a squeeze, Jess hugged and released Bella. Then she dug in the brown paper bag from Antonio’s and emerged with a stack of napkins, which she held out to Bella. “Here. You look terrible.”
Laughing, Bella took a napkin and swiped away a few stray tears. “Aren’t you glad you came over? I’m such wonderful company.”
“Are you glad I came over? Because I have one more thing to say, and you’re not going to like it.”
“You already called me stinky.” Bella tossed the wet napkin at Jess. “What else could you have to say?”
But her friend didn’t laugh. In fact, she nibbled at her bottom lip.
Great. Bella really wasn’t going to like this. “Just spit it out.”
“I know your mom has hurt you, but—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. Because if you’re about to say that I should forgive her, then you can save your breath. How can I? She betrayed me.” Bella wasn’t perfect by any means, but what had she done to deserve a mother like that?
“Come on, Bells.”
“No, I can’t. Just . . . sorry, Jess. I’m going to go take a bath so I don’t stink anymore.” Bella whirled on her heel.
“So you wanted Ben to forgive you, but you aren’t willing to forgive your mom?”
Seriously? Bella jerked around to face Jess once again. “How can you even compare the two? I’m her daughter! She’s supposed to love me more than anything or anyone. And she doesn’t.”
“I know she hasn’t always acted like it. But maybe there’s more to the story than you know.” Jessica stared at the ground, her chin trembling, before she looked into Bella’s eyes again. “And I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But don’t you see? If you don’t forgive her, you’ll never be free of this anger, this weight, this doubting that you belong. It’s a chain around your neck, weighing you down. And it’s killing you.”
Bella slumped against the counter, sliding down along the cabinets until her butt hit the floor. Her breath rattled in and out, noisy and erratic.
And then Jess was beside her, leaning her head on Bella’s shoulder. “I know you like being in control, but you’ve been letting bitterness control you instead. So don’t do it for your mom. Do it for you. Because Bells, I don’t think that you can ever be free until you let it go.”
“I don’t know how to.”
“I’m no expert. But maybe just try talking to your mom. Tell her how you feel. Open the lines of communication.” A squeeze to her hand. “And whatever her response is, you can’t let it change how you see yourself. Your worth, your sense of belonging, can’t be found in your mom. You are a beautiful creation, loved by God, loved by me, and loved by so many others. If your mom doesn’t see that, then she’s a fool.”
Bella’s heart pounded, leaping at the idea of freedom and colliding with the idea of talking with her mom.
But maybe Jessica was right. Maybe, regardless of what happened with Mom, whatever could have been with Ben, Bella could find a place to belong. In fact, perhaps she already had one.
She just needed to reach out and embrace it as her own.
Chapter 13
He should have started working on the inn’s staircase by now.
But what was the point?
From Ben’s spot in the bed of his truck, he blinked at the ocean stretching out in front of him. Early-morning surfers stood on boards, riding the waves and taking whatever life threw their way without wiping out.
Apparently, Ben was not so talented.
After attempting to get stuff done around the inn the day after Bella left—and failing miserably—he’d hopped into his truck and started driving. When he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he’d pulled over onto some random beach a few hours north of town. Yesterday, he’d mostly lazed around here then walked to the nearest town and grabbed a pizza before returning to his truck and sleeping again on the beach.
From the phone next to him, music blared. A Tim McGraw song ended, and a new song popped on—Alan Jackson singing about a betrayal he hadn’t seen coming.
Join the club, Alan.
Huffing out a harsh breath in between bites of cold pizza—breakfast of champions—Ben silenced the music, the quiet leaving him once again with his thoughts.
Thoughts he did not want.
About a gorgeous woman with tan skin and blond-streaked brown hair and the deepest chocolate eyes.
Eyes he should have known not to trust. Numerous people had warned him. But had Ben listened? Nope. He’d fallen for the same old tricks, the same old lies.
And at the end of the day, he was still going to lose his inn, probably to the mother of the woman who had betrayed him.
So why work against the inevitable? Maybe it was time to give in to the failure.
Still, he couldn’t run away forever. It was time to go home. Ben swung his legs off the truck bed and groaned at the ache pounding in his temple. Only a few hours of sleep in two consecutive nights would do that to a guy.
He climbed back into the cab of the truck, started it, and headed south. After a few hours and a gallon of gas station coffee, he took the exit to Walker Beach and pulled into the inn’s parking lot.
Which was full.
He rubbed his eyes, but the assortment of cars and trucks remained. And he recognized every one of them. As he got out of his vehicle, the familiar white noise of a concrete mixer and muted shouts from behind the inn met his ears.
What the . . .
He jogged to the courtyard gate and pulled up at the sight in front of him. A team of guys in hardhats poured concrete. Scanning the group, Ben identified cousins and uncles. And there was Dad, giving directions, leading the pack.
They’d already torn out the broken wooden staircase and made nice headway on pouring the concrete foundation where the bottom step would rest. Another team of men measured and cut wooden boards on the other side of the yard, while still others transferred stone pavers from the back of a truck into a stack near the wall.
From the look of things, they wouldn’t be able to finish the stairs completely because the concrete would take three days or so to cure. Still, with this many people working, they’d easily knock out the majority of the building today.
But the question remained—why were they fixing his inn in the first place?
Ben moved past a pile of hardhats and work gloves toward his father. Talking loudly over the various compressors and other whirring tools, Dad slapped Uncle Lucas on the back. He turned at Ben’s approach. “Hey, son. I wondered when we’d finally see you.”
“Didn’t know I’d be seeing you at all. What are you doing here?”
“That’s a question for your sister. She’s upstairs.” Dad paused. “When you’re done talking with her, we could use some help getting the staircase going.”
With a nod, Ben headed through the outside door that led into the kitchen. There he found a mostly demolished stack of pancakes and a side platter of breakfast meats. And in the middle of the table, the crowning glory—an entire pan of what looked like Grandma’s famous cake batter blondies. A stack of freshly washed plates and cups sat in the drying rack to the right of the sink.
A thump sounded overhead, and Ben strode through the hallway and up the stairs. Chest hitching, he paused before entering the lobby, which he hadn’t set foot in since Bella had left on Thursday.
A laugh drifted down the staircase. When he reached the top stair and turned, his jaw slackened. The upper floor of his inn was overrun with females—aunts and cousins of all ages—scrubbing walls, tearing down the gold wallpaper border ringing the ceiling, and covering the furniture with plastic. A small group appeared to be well into applying a vivid blue color to the walls of the south hallway, which led to a handful of guest rooms.
Ben’s eyes roam
ed until he located his mom and sister deep in conversation by the fireplace. Ashley examined a document in her hands.
He cleared his throat as he approached them. “Uh, what’s going on here?”
Ashley turned, her eyes bright. “Ben! I was starting to worry about you. You didn’t answer any of my messages for the last few days.”
He had seen her calls and texts but hadn’t wanted to talk. “I’m fine. Just went out of town for a bit.” Running a hand through his hair, he frowned. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Mom, dressed in a ratty T-shirt and leggings, her eyes soft, pressed a hand to his cheek. “Aw, honey, you look so tired. I’m sorry we didn’t come before now.”
“Why did you come now? What are you guys doing?”
“I’ll let you two talk.” Mom moved to help Aunt Kiki tape a wall.
He turned back to Ashley. “I’ll ask again. Why is the entire Baker clan taking over my inn?”
She held up the papers. “I stopped by yesterday and couldn’t find you. But I did find this.”
He snatched it, his eyes raking over the words Iridescent Inn Business Plan. Bella must have printed a copy when she’d created it a few weeks ago and left it lying around. Shoving it into Ashley’s hands, he planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”
Ashley’s eyes grew sad. She tilted her head. “I’m sorry about Bella. I really liked you guys together.”
Why did he bother ever trying to have secrets in this stupid little town? “I did too until I found out she was a lying . . .” He held back a not-so-nice name. “That’s irrelevant. What is relevant is why you’re here.”
His sister had the audacity to look amused. “Actually, it’s kind of relevant because Bella is the reason we’re here.”
“I don’t follow.”
“She stopped by my apartment to say goodbye Thursday night. Told me everything.” Ashley set the business plan on the coffee table. “I have to admit, for a moment I wanted to slap her.”
“As if you would ever slap anyone.”
“But I wanted to.” Ashley frowned. “I think she’s truly sorry, and she cares about you, Ben.”
“I don’t—”
“No, listen.” Ashley rarely raised her voice. When she did, people tended to listen.
Ben grunted for her to go on.
“She told me that the inn was struggling but that you refused to ask for help out of some misguided sense that you had to do it on your own.”
He could picture Bella saying those words, a mixture of love and determination in them. A small smile snuck onto his lips.
But no. Bella Moody didn’t know how to love.
Only deceive.
His molars ground together. “So you’re all here out of pity?”
“No, dummy. We’re here because we care about you. Oh, and Evan sends his regrets. He’s working for Chrissy again or he’d be here.”
“Seems like there’s plenty of help anyway.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve had about twenty or thirty in and out. Some came right at six and worked for a bit but had to leave already. Grandma was here earlier to make breakfast for everyone. She needed to go home to rest but said she’ll be back with dinner.” Ashley fiddled with a piece of her long hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. “I hope you’re not upset that we just took over in here. It needed a makeover, and you know how women like a good reno project.”
“I didn’t have a clue what to do, so I’m OK with whatever you chose.”
“Really?” Ashley frowned. “Your business plan had some good guidance. We’re improvising a bit but mostly sticking to that. And we won’t finish it today, but we’re making progress.”
He didn’t remember anything about improving the lobby in the plan Bella had given him, but maybe he’d just been so focused on the outer repairs to notice. “Thanks, sis. I owe you.” Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he squeezed. “I’d better go pull my weight outside.”
“I’ll hold down the fort in here.”
“I know you will.” He plunged down the stairs, changed into some work-appropriate clothing, and headed outside. Ben approached Dad as he slid on a pair of gloves. “Put me to work.”
For hours, he worked alongside his dad, who passed tools and boards up the ladder so Ben could install the new treads and risers to the staircase where their ladder didn’t interfere with the hardening concrete pad. They only took a break for a quick lunch of sandwiches and potato salad that his cousins Shannon and Lia had made.
As evening approached, the sun almost at the spot where the beach met the sea, Ben sat sipping lemonade on the deck. Every muscle in his body ached, but his inn looked like a million bucks. It sparkled and shone even more than the glittering ocean taking up the expanse of his view.
Yet his pride had taken a beating today. He’d talked to so many relatives, answering the same questions over and over again. About what the future of the inn looked like. About his plans. And about Bella.
His grandma had presented him with a blondie, cocking her head and asking where his pretty little girlfriend was. “She’s spunky. I like her.”
He hadn’t had the heart to tell everyone the truth, probably more to protect himself than her reputation. If people knew he’d been an idiot twice over, there’d be no living that down. It would be bad enough when they found out he would probably have to sell the inn they’d put their blood and sweat into.
At least all the improvements would fetch a nice price for the place. Maybe he could find a buyer who was just as committed to keeping Moody Development out.
The door slid open behind him, unleashing the chatter of the few family members who’d stuck it out this long and were enjoying dessert inside. Glancing up, Ben spied his father, who settled into the Adirondack chair beside him, water bottle in hand.
“Thanks for coming today.” Ben cringed at the way his voice croaked.
“I’ll always come when one of my kids needs me.” Dad popped the top of his water. “Of course, it helps if they ask.”
The lingering taste of disgrace flared on Ben’s tongue. Or maybe it was just the lemonade. He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”
“And why not?”
“Because . . .”
Dad took a sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his beefy hand. Waited for Ben to gather his thoughts.
Ben blew out a breath. “I wanted to be like you. Like Grandpa. Like all my aunts and uncles.” His throat closed. “Successful. But look at me. I’ve ruined the legacy I’ve been handed. It’s unlikely I’ll recover from this slump, Dad.”
Ben leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his eyes. The scent of sawdust still hung in the air.
“Son, I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you.”
Straightening, he turned to stare at Dad. “Proud? Why? Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to lose the inn.” He stood and gripped the railing. “Pretty sure I’m not someone you should be proud of.”
Chair legs scratched against the deck as his dad ambled to his feet, his strong and steady presence wrapping around Ben as he approached.
For a moment, everything was still.
“I remember feeling the same way when I lost my first business.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Ben’s gaze shot toward his father.
Dad chuckled as he tossed back the rest of his water then set the empty bottle on the ground. “I was twenty-two, married for about a year, and we’d just found out your mom was pregnant with you.” His fingers splayed on his jaw, stroking as he looked up at the first stars starting to populate the sky. “When I was nineteen, I’d started a painting business. Hired a few guys, built a solid list of clientele in Walker Beach and just beyond. But suffice it to say I made some poor investments, some bad choices, and I trusted the wrong people.”
Sounded familiar.
His father looked at him again. “The point is, I had to declare bankruptcy and get a job working as an entry-level clerk
in the hardware store for Chrissy Price’s father. And I had a wife, a son on the way. To say I was ashamed is an understatement. Thought I’d failed the Baker name, set a horrible example for all my younger siblings who were looking up to me.”
“So what happened?”
“My dad took me aside and explained real success.”
Had Grandpa been disappointed in Dad for his failures? “Yeah, I already know that part. Real success means owning businesses, stepping up to be leaders in the community.”
“No, Ben.” Dad turned and gripped his son’s shoulder. “He told me that success isn’t about what you do. It’s about who you are. Whether you stand up for what’s right. Whether you fight for things that matter. Leading isn’t about owning a business, son. It’s about doing what’s right and being there for the people you love. It’s about admitting when you’re wrong and doing better the next time. About not quitting. About being humble enough to ask for help when you need it.”
Instead of the slap Ben had expected, the words filtered over him, through him, smoothing the rough edges inside. He finally felt like he could breathe again. “So, if I lose the inn . . .”
“I’ll still be just as proud of you as I always am.”
“But I’d be losing Grandpa’s legacy. How could you be proud of that?”
“If your grandfather were here, I’m positive he would tell you that his legacy was never in a building. It was in his family. You are his legacy, Ben—not this inn.”
Wow. The relief was the prick in the ballooning shame that had been sitting in Ben’s chest, growing and pushing outward till it ached. “Thanks, Dad.”
“And Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“I may have been wrong before. When I told you to focus on saving the inn instead of love.” He scratched behind his ear. “I admit I just didn’t want to see you get hurt again. But I should have supported you, respected you enough to butt out and let you make your own choice.”
Ben made a fist and bumped it lightly against the railing. “Nah, you were right on that count, Dad. I put my faith in the wrong person, just like you told me not to.”
All of You, Always Page 13
