Twist of Fate

by Louise, Tia

  Walking back to Gran’s ancient, red step-side Chevy, I think about driving to Oceanside. What will I say if I find her there, married and living her happily ever after? Am I ready for that? What if she’s with Spencer the douche? Anger burns in my stomach, which is ridiculous.

  Climbing into the truck, I turn the wheel towards the highway leading down to the coast. I’ve come so close to doing this so many times. We lost touch while I was in L.A., and to be fair, a lot of it was my fault. I was so focused on saving my career, I pretty much lost touch with everybody. Even my own brother was facing a crisis, and I trusted my dad to help him out.

  Spoiler alert: He didn’t.

  Now I realize there’s more to life than chasing my own dream. What’s the point in achieving it if I don’t have anyone to share it with? It’s a great realization, but it’s bullshit if Daisy’s not with me.

  But what if I’m too late? The burning in my stomach moves to my chest. Can I accept that and move on with my life as well? What choice will I have?

  Looking up, I realize I’m on the main drag of Oceanside Village. I’ll pass right by her shop if I don’t slow down. I’ve done my research, and I know she’s the last storefront on the end, past the pretty little bakery.

  I pull into a parking spot right out front and kill the engine. A huge stack of boxes is inside the door, blocking my view. Sliding my hands down the front of my jeans, I figure it’s now or never. Time to go inside and face my future, whatever it might be.

  My boots thump on the wooden porch, and as I get closer, I notice the lights are off. A sign on the door says, “Back in…” and a clock pointing to 10 a.m. Is that right? No cars are parked out front, which seems strange for a Friday, although I guess it’s the off-season. Does she close early on Fridays?

  I look up and down the alley. She could have gone to lunch and forgotten to reset the little clock. If I remember correctly, the first store on the opposite end serves food.

  I’ve just taken a few steps in that direction when the bakery door opens and a young woman with long, wavy brown hair walks out, slamming into me with an Oof!

  “Oh!” she gasps, struggling to catch the large boxes she’s carrying. “I’m so sorry!”

  “I’m sorry.” I help her steady her load. “I guess I was loitering.”

  “No, it’s my fault. I need to replace the bell on that door. It’s a collision waiting to happen.” She pushes back her hair and looks up at me, then her eyebrows furrow. “Have we met before?”

  I wonder how long it will take for me to stop bracing myself whenever someone I don’t know recognizes me. So many times, those words were followed by a Rammin Rod comment.

  “I’m an old friend of Daisy’s.” I motion towards the antiques store, and her eyebrows shoot up.

  “You know Daisy?” She says it like she can’t believe it.

  “We grew up together in Fireside. You don’t happen to know where she is?”

  “I don’t, sorry. I’m Emberly, by the way.” She shifts her boxes and holds out a hand. “Her daughter Melody and mine are friends.”

  “Her daughter?” A weight drops in my stomach as I shake Emberly’s hand slowly.

  She has a daughter… which probably means she’s married. Releasing Emberly’s hand, I turn and walk slowly towards the truck.

  Emberly calls after me, “Want me to tell Daisy you stopped by?”

  “Thanks.” I hold up my hand in a distracted wave.

  What now? Should I even try to see her? Do I want to see her if she’s married?

  Frustration churns in my stomach. How could I be so fucking selfish? It’s been four years since we said goodbye at the airport, and I’ll never forget the look on her face, her dark eyes so round and sad. Why didn’t I do something? Keep in touch better? Anything?

  Clenching my jaw, I rest my elbows on the side of the truck and rub my forehead. I can’t go back to Los Angeles without seeing her. If it’s too late, so be it, but I want to say hello, tell her I’ve been thinking about her. Tell her she was always on my mind… Which is the most selfish song ever written.

  Pulling out my phone, I touch the familiar digits. My brother’s answer is short. “What?”

  “Good to hear from you, too.” I shake my head, turning my back to the door.

  “I’m in the middle of something. I can’t really talk.”

  “Then why didn’t you send it to voicemail?”

  “You never leave a message.”

  He has a point. “What are you doing tonight? Can you meet me at the Tuna Tiki for a drink?”

  “Can’t do it. I’ve made plans.”

  Exhaling a growl, I check my watch. “I guess it’s short notice. What about tomorrow?”

  I have to say, my brother has gotten way more interested in spending time at home with his wife than he ever was before. Not that I blame him.

  “What’s this about?” He grouses. “Can’t you just tell me?”

  “It’s about my future. I need some advice from a person who’s been there.” A loud exhale fills my ear, and I drop my head back, rolling my eyes. This guy. “Look, I’m not going to keep you all night. You can go home to the misses before ten. I just need to talk.

  “I’ll meet you there at seven. And I’m leaving at seven-thirty.”

  “Deal. See you tomorrow.”

  Disconnecting, I look up the walk. I should have asked Emberly more questions, but she strapped her boxes to the back of a bicycle as I chatted with my brother and took off riding up the hill. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I decide to poke around a bit before heading back to Gran’s.

  Past the bakery is an old-school hardware store with a few customers milling around, looking at nuts and bolts and belts for lawnmowers. I keep going to the first shop in the lineup, a specialty grocery store with a sign inside reading Authentic New Orleans Poboys.

  A bell rings as I push through the door, and the tall black guy behind the counter gives me a nod. “Welcome to Pepper’s.”

  “Pepper’s?” I look around the place for any more information.

  “It used to be the Pack n Save until Mrs. Betty renamed it.” The guy watches me curiously.

  “Sorry.” I stick out a hand. “Scout Dunne. I’m from Fireside. Any chance she’s related to Owen Pepper? I spent a lot of time hauling crap out of his junkyard for a friend of mine in high school.”

  “André Fontenot.” The guy’s lips spread into a wide, white smile. “Betty is Owen’s sister.”

  “Small world.” We fall silent, and I scan the menu items ranging from pastrami on rye to turkey, apple, Brie, and bacon to New Orleans muffulettas and Cajun shrimp and oysters. “Damn, looks like some good stuff here.”

  “Authentic New Orleans cuisine made fresh every day.” André adjusts his cap.

  “You from there?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “Which is your favorite?”

  “You can never go wrong with a muffuletta.”

  “Sold.” I grin looking around the small store as he gets started.

  Low aisles are stocked with the usual grocery items, crackers, bread, soft drinks, and light produce. On the other side of the store are matching candles, lotions, soaps, and other specialty items wrapped in white paper and tied with black strings.

  “What brings you to the Village?” He quickly cuts open a long piece of French bread and spreads the olive salad across it.

  “I’m a friend of Daisy Sales.”

  “Ah… Daisy’s a great girl, and that Melody.” Shaking his head, he exhales a chuckle. “She went from being a bossy toddler to a regular football-playing force.”

  “Melody’s her daughter, right?” André glances up and nods. “You said she plays football?”

  “Well, she’s only three, but Chad has her running up and down. She can throw a pretty decent spiral. Not too far, but straight.”

  My lips twitch in an attempt at a smile, but it’s needles in my stomach. “Chad is…”

  “Sheriff here in Ocea
nside. He’s a good guy. Takes his job seriously, wants to be a presence in the neighborhood.”

  Daisy married a sheriff? Hot coals blister behind my lungs. Law enforcement’s a dangerous line of work for a man with a family. Still, if he’s as good with kids as André describes, what right do I have to be jealous?

  I am, though.

  I am so jealous.

  “He sounds like a good guy.”

  “And here’s your good sandwich.” André rolls it in paper and passes it across the counter. I pass him a ten. “Want me to tell Daisy you stopped by?”

  “Nah.” I take my change and head for the door. “Know when she’ll be back?”

  “It’s pretty slow this time of year, but she’s open Monday to Friday.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back.”

  I’ll be back if only to see her happy with my own eyes. Who am I kidding? I want to see who the fuck this Chad guy is and make sure he’s not a total asshole. I want to know he makes her smile.

  I need to know she’s not mine.

  Twenty

  Daisy

  “A million dollars?” Sly’s blue eyes are wide, and she laughs, bouncing on the queen-sized bed in our old room at Aunt Regina’s BnB. “That’s amazing!”

  “One point five. Can you believe it?” I’m across from her in the yellow chair that always reminds me of Scout, even if it hurts. “I mean, it’s not enough to live on the rest of my life, but still.”

  “It makes you pretty damn comfortable!” She does another cheer then rubs her face. “My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.”

  My chest hurts when I think about my dad and the way I misjudged him. “I wish I hadn’t complained so much when Dad was alive. I was as bad as mom saying all he cared about was his work. The whole time he was planning this… this legacy. I feel so ungrateful now.”

  “You’re not ungrateful to want your father’s attention. He should have found a better work-life balance. You don’t have to neglect your family to make money.”

  My cousin is so protective. I give her a weak smile. “I don’t think he knew what work-life balance meant. He did the best he could, but he was born in another time.”

  “At least he knew how to make money.” She tosses a royal-blue velvet pillow at me, and I catch it easily, turning it in my hands.

  The room falls quiet, and I swallow the tightness in my throat. “It’s time, Sly.”

  Her brow furrows. “Time for what?”

  “It’s time to tell Scout.” Breathing through the tension in my chest, I focus on my fingers smoothing the pillow. “Having this money changes everything. I don’t need anything from him. I’m doing fine taking care of Melody by myself. I’m going to fly to L.A. and tell him about her.”

  “Finally!” She falls back on the bed. “I can’t believe you listened to Evil Becky in the first place.”

  “It wasn’t that—or not just that.” I trace my nails along the velvet. “Becky is a horrible, bitter person, but she was right. If I’d told him when I had nothing and he had nothing, and it was a choice between doing the right thing or pursuing his dream…” My voice dies out as I think about how that might have gone. “If he’d given it all up to be with me, I’d never know if it was real or if he did it out of a sense of obligation.”

  “How is any of that different now?” My cousin watches me from the bed.

  “It’s completely different now.” I put the pillow on the floor, meeting her eyes. “Now it doesn’t matter what he does. Now I don’t need help or money or anything.”

  “You don’t need anything?” Her voice is quiet, and I blink away as pain flashes in my chest.

  Sly can read me like a book, but I won’t let her deter me.

  “No.” My voice is equally quiet but determined. “I’ll let him know she exists, and he can be as involved as he’d like to be.”

  My cousin exhales heavily as she falls back on the bed. “Talk about a charmed life! He gets off scot-free after you’ve done all the heavy lifting?”

  “I don’t see it that way.” Studying my hands, I exhale slowly. “I love Melody, and I love being her mom. It’s not heavy lifting, it’s our life.”

  “Will you at least make him pay child support?”

  Her question makes me cringe. “We’ll cross that bridge when I get there. I don’t want to fight with him.”

  God, I’m such an idiot. What I don’t say is I love him. I’ve never stopped loving him. I want him to take one look at her and me and fall in love with us. I want him to tell me he’ll come home with us… I’d even be happy if he wanted to find a way for us to be there with him, although I don’t know if I’d want that.

  I realize all of this makes me sound like a romantic fool, so I don’t say it out loud. It’s just the dream that never died, that grew deeper, closer to my heart as the years passed.

  At least now I have plenty of money to distract me if he says none of those things. If he acts surprised or worse, hostile to us, I’ll come home and cry all night and make it up to myself with expensive presents.

  “You’re in love with him.” Sly’s navy eyes level on mine, and I shift in my chair.

  “I am not.”

  “Liar! You’re so in love with him your cheeks are turning pink right now. You didn’t want to tell him earlier because you were afraid he’d be mad at you.”

  Slapping my palms on the arms of the velvet chair, I push to my feet. “I didn’t tell him because Becky said everyone would blame me for trying to trap him. As unfair as that might be, I couldn’t stand it. Then Dad died, then we had that terrible year… I had to get to a point where I could stand on my own without his help.”

  Sly swings her legs off the bed and stands in front of me. It’s not really fair because she’s four inches taller and able to look down on me. “You are in love with him. And I’m not going to take this sitting down.”

  She turns on her heel and starts down the stairs. I’m left standing in the bedroom with Netflix going behind me and my mouth hanging open. “What does that mean?”

  I take off running down the steps behind her. When I reach the kitchen, she’s pulling down a bottle of tequila and setting out two tumblers, a lime, and a shaker of salt.

  “First, shots.” She hastily pours the clear liquid into the tumblers and slices the lime.

  “Why are we doing shots?”

  Holding a tumbler at me, she gives me a wicked grin. “Here’s mud in your eye!”

  My nose wrinkles and I tilt the glass side to side, studying the clear liquid. “I’ve never understood what that meant.”

  Doesn’t matter. She clinks my glass, spilling a bit of the tequila and quickly shoots it, jamming a lime wedge in her teeth as soon as it’s down.

  After a sharp squeak and a head shake, she points at me. “We have to make a plan to get him back. Will you take Melody with you?”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that.” I start to put the shot down, but she catches my hand, lifting it again.

  “Yes, you do. Now shoot it.”

  “Ugh!” I do as she says, jamming the lime between my teeth as I shudder. “Tequila is so fierce.”

  “Just like us.” She’s fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker when a country song blasts through the kitchen. “I’m going with you.”

  I watch as she dances to that old Shania Twain song, thinking it would be nice to have backup on my trip. “What about your massage clients?”

  “I’ll reschedule them. The beauty of my job is I can arrange it around my life.”

  Walking over to the pine table with the red and white checked tablecloth over it, I open the cover of a massive hardback. “What’s this?”

  “The best thing about being a woman…” Sly sings as she dances to me, handing me a tumbler and a lime. “Is that the book?”

  “What book?” I frown, leaning closer to read the inscription. “The Palm is Sacred. What does that mean?”

  “Apparently Fireside was founded by a bunch of witches.” Her eyes flare and she d
oes a little starburst motion with her hand. “Mom and Ms. Alice are putting together a history of them. They want to install a plaque.” She dances off singing about having a little fun.

  “Witches?” I quickly shoot the tequila and jam the lime between my teeth as I wince. It burns less on the second shot. “Think they have any spells in here?”

  “Ah! They might!” Sly scurries back to where I’m flipping pages. “Give it to me.”

  I watch as she slides the book around and flips big chunks, scanning her finger across the titles. “Bylaws… membership requirements… Check this out.” She leans closer. “Only females with ancestral blood connected to Fireside may join. These bitches were hardcore.”

  “I wonder why they did it.”

  “To fight the patriarchy, of course!” Sly holds up her fist, and I shake my head.

  “You’re drunk.” I push her aside with my hip and take over searching.

  It’s like a scrapbook with old letters pasted inside, black and white pictures of women in giant swimsuits at the beach, an old photo of the same women in suffragette sashes with pantaloons and giant hats. Palm fronds are pinned to pages along with ribbons reading City Council. It’s a visual antique. A historic record, and I love it.

  “They are very interested in women’s rights, but also something about protecting the palmettos.”

  “Fight the patriarchy!” Sly holds up her hand again, but her eyes are closed.

  “You might need to drink a little coffee first. Or take a nap.” I turn another page, and I see the heading When You’ve Exhausted All Human Means. “This sounds promising.”

  Looking closer, I see what looks like a recipe. “I think they might’ve been witches after all.”

  That gets Sly back in the conversation. She pushes me aside with her hip, hoisting up the enormous book. “This is it! This is the one we’re looking for. Finding Lost Things.”

  My brow furrows as I watch her. “What have we lost?”

  “Your baby daddy! We’re going to do this potion right here and bring him back to you. You’re going to find your lost love!”