Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2)

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  I need more time than that. I’m having a bit of a quarter-life crisis.

  Silence again. It’s not often that I render him speechless. But he needs me there. He could replace me, sure. With someone a lot more prepared. But that someone wouldn’t have his last name. Wouldn’t be the right “face” of the company—at least in my dad’s eyes. He needs me.

  I’ll give you a month.

  My heart is beating a million miles a minute. I don’t often speak out toward my dad. After

  all, he’s pretty much given me everything I’ve ever wanted—and even things I didn’t want (i.e. a major stepping stone in my professional career that I in no way earned). He likes me quiet, compliant. Like my mom.

  Thanks is all I can force myself to type back.

  I’m lying in the bed in my room at the inn, staring up at the ceiling. Green ivy wallpaper is plastered across it. Who wallpapers a ceiling? I have the doors to the balcony open, the lake air chilly and refreshing as it seeps in. I hear frogs and bugs singing in unison out in the wild, sounds I’ve never heard lying in any bed in Georgia.

  I sit up to grab my pajamas from my bag when I hear something hit the floor. It’s the gargantuan file that Alma and Jeffrey gave me. I take in a deep breath as I bend down to pick it up. I plop back down on the bed and open it up. I scan through the files, reading over May’s wishes again. It’s a strange thing, knowing how much thought she put into me when I didn’t know enough about her to formulate a single one.

  I flip through the pages, freezing again when I see the sum of May’s assets—my half. A half that could sit me on Rich Man’s Cove if I wanted. I shake my head and keep flipping. I stop again when I read Haven’s name.

  Haven Rae Dean. Dean. There’s something that strikes me––envy, maybe––about Haven having May’s last name. But then again, who else’s would she have? She doesn’t know her father, and she certainly wouldn’t have my father’s. I shake my head again.

  I have a sister. A living, breathing sister who currently wishes I was the one who didn’t exist. But a sister, nonetheless. And one day, if she can ever stand the sight of me, I have some questions I want to ask her.

  I flip to the next file, and I realize it’s the placeholder for the ledger Jeffrey mentioned would be coming, the one that outlined May’s investment plan into the local businesses. After my tour with Derrick yesterday, I find myself a little more anxious to see which businesses I might recognize. And I wonder how much cloudier that will make things for me. I close my eyes and lean back, trying to clear up the fog that’s falling around me.

  I’m standing on the edge of some sort of water, although, it doesn’t look like Meade Lake. The water is so dark it’s almost black, and heavy waves crash at my feet. To my side, a woman sits in a chair facing the water, her back to me. I call to her, but she never turns around. She just stares, watching as the water comes and goes, pulling anything in its path back into its grasp and never returning it.

  My eyes open, fluttering as my brain decides what’s real and what was a dream. I sit up slowly, remembering what day it is: the funeral. I stand up and stretch, walking over to the sink in the corner of the room. I splash water on my face and comb my hair out then walk to my suitcase.

  Fuck.

  When I packed for the trip––which I originally thought was just a one-night stay at Charlotte’s––funeral attire was not on my packing list.

  I reach across the bed and grab my phone from the nightstand.

  “Hello?” Derrick’s normally cheery voice has a little edge to it today.

  “Derrick, hey,” I say, “sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably busy this morning.”

  “You’re good, girl. Don’t apologize,” he says. “Everything okay? You good?”

  “Uh, yeah. I sort of forgot that I have nothing to wear today. Any place that would be open where I can grab a dress?”

  There’s a pause on the other end, and I hear him click his teeth.

  “Man, I didn’t even think of this. There’s Misty’s Boutique up near Timberland, but it’s closed today. Pretty much everything is. Everyone is coming to the funeral.”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “Lemme think,” he says. I pause and let him. “You know, you, uh…you and Haven are probably about the same size, don’t you––”

  “No,” I cut him off. “No way in hell. But you did give me an idea. What about Mila?”

  “Yeah, yeah, good call. Let me shoot you her number.”

  “Great! Thank you.”

  “You sure you don’t wanna come with us? I can come pick you up.”

  The idea of being with him, arriving with him, gives my body this sort of tingle. Just to be associated with him up here gives me this feeling of security that I know I otherwise wouldn’t have.

  But then, the idea of others giving their condolences, seeing me, whispering. The look of utter disgust on Haven’s face the two times we’ve met. These are all things that are not worth me living out this fantasy of being with Derrick today.

  “No, no. I’m good, really,” I tell him. “I’ll see you there.” From the way back, where I’ll be hiding.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not...like you’re not a part of this––”

  “No, I got it. Thank you, Derrick. For everything.”

  I text Mila and explain my dilemma. She tells me she’ll be by in a few with some options, and I thank her profusely and get in a quick shower. As I’m towel-drying my hair, I move my shit off the counter, and as I do, something drops out of the file from Jeffrey. I bend down to pick it up, and when I do, I see that it’s an envelope addressed to me. My name is handwritten on the front in the most beautiful script I’ve ever seen. My hand shakes as I look down at it, because I know who it’s from.

  It’s from May.

  And just as I slip my finger in the crease, there’s a knock on my door that makes me jump.

  I stick it back in the file and open the door.

  “Hey,” Mila says, breathless from walking up the big, winding staircase in the inn.

  “Oh, thank you so much for coming,” I gasp, ushering her in. She lays a huge pile of dresses down on the bed and plops down next to them.

  “Oh, it’s no problem. Glad I could help,” she says. She’s all made up, her long brown hair tied back into a twisty bun-type thing. Her makeup is impeccable, and I can’t help but notice how much of a knock-out she is. Something I’ve never been able to quite live up to, no matter how much my parents paid for pageants as a teen.

  “If you need to go get Ryder and Annabelle, I can just get these back to you later,” I offer, but she shakes her head.

  “No, no. They’re catching a ride with our friend Luna. I will be your escort today,” she says, reclining back and making herself comfortable. I look at her and cock my head. “Nobody should show up to their own grandmother’s funeral alone. Whether they knew her or not.”

  I force a smile.

  “Thank you,” I say just above a whisper. I pull out three dresses from the pile and slip into the bathroom to try them on. They’re a little tight around the midsection, but if I suck in a bit, they work. I choose a high-necked black dress she brought, and some matching black sandals she brought with them.

  “Need some help with makeup?” she asks, holding up a small pink bag. I laugh.

  “That would be great. I didn’t, uh, bring much of that, either,” I tell her. I sit on the bed as she digs through the bag, pulling out some mascara and eyeliner and a little blush. I close my eyes and let her go.

  “You feel okay about going today?” she asks me after a moment.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess so,” I admit. “It feels a little weird, honestly.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I can’t even imagine,” she tells me. “Derrick was real worried about you going alone.”

  I open my eyes and look at her.

  “He was?” I ask. She smiles.

  “Yeah. He mentioned it last night, so he was happy whe
n I called him on the way here and told him I was picking you up. He’s sort of taken a, uh, protector role toward you, I think.” I swallow.

  “He’s been great. Sorta feels like he’s the only one who’s happy I’m here,” I say. I’m not sure what it is about Mila that makes me feel like I can be candid with her. Maybe it’s that she’s not from here. She’s not a Meade Lake Original, either. She had a history, a life, before this place.

  “No, no,” Mila says. “That’s not true. Not at all. Alma, and us, we’re all happy you came.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” I chuckle. “I don’t think, uh, Haven could say the same.” Mila’s eyes drop to the ground.

  “I just wish May could have met you. She really was an incredible woman. She changed Ryder’s life.”

  I look up at her.

  “Because of the store?”

  She nods.

  “Without that grant, that store never would have gotten off the ground. When Ryder went through treatment, it was our source of income. It kept us going, and––” She pauses when she sees me staring. “Uh, we haven’t told you about the last year, yet, have we?”

  I shake my head. She smiles.

  “We’ll save that for another day. But just know that May was truly one of a kind.”

  “So I’ve been told,” I say. “To tell the truth, I’m a little envious of all of you, that you had that time with her.”

  Mila lifts her eyes to me.

  “Ya know, Kaylee,” she says, her voice soft as she puts her hand on my shoulder, “I think, maybe, that’s how Haven feels toward you. About your mother.”

  My eyes grow wide, her words hitting me right in the gut. She drops her hand and walks toward the door, opening it and holding it for me.

  Haven has been so cold, so unwelcoming toward me since I’ve been here that I

  admittedly haven’t given much thought to all she’s missed out on. How much I had that she didn’t.

  The car ride to the funeral is quicker than I’m ready for, but like every other trip I’ve taken since I got to Meade Lake, the views make you forget just what time really means. We make a sharp turn up a steep hill, and as we drive, I realize we’re headed up a mountain. Mila pulls her car into an open field once we reach the top and puts the car in park.

  “Where are we?” I ask her.

  “May wasn’t the most religious,” she tells me as she smooths her dress out. “But she was sort of spiritual in another sense. This was her favorite place in Meade Lake, on the top of this mountain.” I nod as I follow her down a dirt path. We round a patch of trees toward a clearing, and that’s when I see the mass of people. There has to be two hundred people here, all gathered and talking, and suddenly, I feel completely overwhelmed. Chairs are set up in rows, and a man in a black shirt and slacks walks toward the front of the group and steps up to a microphone. I look around at all the faces, wondering how one person could have made such an impact on so many.

  Realizing how much of my own family, my own life, I didn’t—and will never—know. I see Alma near the front row, greeting people and accepting hugs galore. Derrick is next to her, doing the same.

  “Mama!” a little voice shrieks from behind us as Annabelle runs down the path toward us. Mila scoops her up and kisses her cheek. Ryder follows close behind on the arm of a woman with long black hair.

  “Hi, babe,” Mila says, reaching for Ryder’s hand and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

  “You look great,” he tells her as he draws her near. She smiles.

  “You can’t see,” she says. He smiles back.

  “Shapes and colors, my love, and that’s all I need to tell you’re a damn knockout.” She giggles and playfully swats at his chest. “Kaylee, it’s good to see you again. This is Luna, a dear friend of ours.”

  I smile and shake her hand.

  “Kaylee, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “And I’m so sorry for your loss,” she nervously adds. I smile and thank her.

  “Should we head up?” Mila asks. They all start moving, but I stay frozen. Mila pauses and turns back to me.

  “Please, go,” I tell her, pushing my hands. “Please. I’m just going to hang back.” She pauses for a moment then nods, and I’m thankful she understands me.

  As the rest of the crowd takes their seats, I scan the crowd.

  “This has to be weird for you,” a voice says from behind me, making me jump.

  “Oh, h-hi,” I say. Haven is dressed in a slick black dress, her curls pulled back into a clip. Her eyes are trained on the crowd in front of us as she steps up so we’re next to each other. “Yeah, it’s a little strange.”

  “That’s what happens when you don’t know someone,” she says. Then she slowly turns to me. “You shouldn’t have come.” Our eyes meet, and I freeze.

  I want to say something, but my brain can’t formulate the right words. Because although her words cut like a knife, the expression on her face is more than that. It’s pain, total anguish. Anguish that only someone who really loved someone can feel. She draws in a breath and walks forward, making her way down the aisle and taking her seat in the front row. Derrick stands at the front, scanning the crowd. Our eyes meet, and his eyebrows jump. He takes a step in my direction, but I hold my hands up, letting him know not to tend to me. Not now. This day isn’t about me. It can’t be. I don’t think I could handle it.

  He nods and takes a seat between Alma and Haven, but through the service, I catch him turning back to me, checking to make sure I’m still there. I listen to person after person, stranger after stranger, talk about my dead grandmother with such warmth and familiarity, and I think about how strange it is that her own daughter isn’t here. Her family.

  I listen as they speak of her, intimate stories, tales of soups she made them, money she lent them, hugs she gave.

  But as they speak, I feel nothing. Like I’m watching a funeral service for a complete stranger, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I turn slowly and walk back to the path, needing air. I find a tree stump and take a seat.

  “You okay, girl?” I hear him ask, and I fight a smile. Protector.

  “Hey, I’m good!” I say, trying to sound much more enthused than I feel. “Please, go back. I don’t want you to miss this. For May.”

  He nudges me over with his hip, and I slide a bit to my right.

  “This is exactly where May would want me to be,” he says as he sits down next to me. Seeing him up close in a suit isn’t exactly the most conducive for appropriate funeral thoughts, but my god, the man is stunning. “You wanna get out of here?”

  I turn my head to him so quickly that it makes him chuckle.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, popping up and offering me his hand.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave because of me.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just holds his hand out. I look down at it then back up at him before slipping mine into his.

  10

  “This is the only place in town still open today, I think,” he says as he reaches through the window of the snow cone shop and grabs two for us. I thank him and grab mine, and we walk down off the pier and onto the grass. Mila’s shoes don’t quite fit me right, so I slip them off and hook my fingers through them. The grass feels good between my toes, and I feel the tense anxiety I was feeling on top of that mountain slowly slipping away. He leads me down the grass close to the water and points to the ground.

  “This okay?” he asks. I nod and sit down as gracefully as possible, smoothing the dress down and tucking my legs underneath me.

  “So, doing okay? I’m sure you were feeling a lot of things up there.”

  I take a bite of the blue ice and let it slide down my throat.

  “Honestly...I think I was so anxious because I felt like I wasn’t feeling enough.” I can feel the words coming out, like I have no control over what I say in front of him. “I looked around at all of you up there today, listening to story after story ab
out a woman who wasn’t even so much as a memory to me. She’s someone I barely remember, and even after she was gone, she was someone I was taught never to speak of. How can I mourn someone like that?”

  He takes a thoughtful bite of his cone.

  “You can’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “It breaks my heart, though, that you missed out on each other. Everyone should have gotten to meet May.”

  I nod and offer an extremely forced smile.

  “Look, I know you’ve got a lot to think about right now, but if you stick around for a bit, I’d love to show you around. There are so many people here that can tell you stories about her, make you feel like...like you knew her, almost. If you want to, I mean.”

  I look at him, and my breath catches. The sun is reflecting off the water in front of us and shining into his eyes, leaving glints of gold and orange in the bright brown.

  “I’d like that,” I tell him. “I’m...I’m still processing everything. May not really being dead, then actually being dead, the money, the house. Haven. But I do want to get to know more about her. Everything I missed.” I swallow and scoot the tiniest bit closer to him. “It wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to get to know you a little bit more, either.”

  A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, exposing a set of teeth fit for a damn toothpaste ad. He leans back on his arm, nudging it behind me, and I feel my heart rate accelerate. He looks down at me and bites his bottom lip gently, sending a shock through my core that seems to pool right between my legs. But just as quick as he cages me in, he scoots away, sending my libido nose-diving to the bottom of the lake. He clears his throat and dusts his lap off then pulls himself onto his feet, and I feel a wave of embarrassment. I can’t read him. And maybe it’s because I’ve been out of the game too long, and I can’t tell what’s a move and what’s not. He’s friendly and concerned about me, and he’s approached flirting on more than one occasion. But more than once now, it’s like he remembers something. Or maybe someone? Maybe I’ve been naive enough to think he’s that delectable and is still an eligible bachelor. Or maybe there’s something else going on. But whatever the reason, there’s some sort of barrier he builds between us whenever he seems to realize his guard is down. He reaches a hand out to me, and I hesitate for a moment.