“Hey, Jules,” Haven says, and I smile and nod.
“Hey, ladies,” she says. “You’re here early.”
“Good thing you guys open at the crack of dawn.” Haven smiles. “Coffee?” she asks me. I nod.
“Black, please,” I say. Haven smiles.
“Two black coffees and two of the cinnamon buns, please,” she says. Jules nods as Haven extends her credit card. I reach for my wallet, but she stops me.
“I got this one. I got some inheritance, too, remember?” she says with a smile. “I might not be able to use it just yet, but I’ll keep a tab.”
We grab our snacks and walk out the side door. Haven leads us to a table on a small patio that overlooks the water, and we sit down.
I pop a piece of the bun into my mouth and moan as it melts.
“Good, right?” she asks as she does the same. I nod, and we both look around. “Ya know, when they first opened, this patio wasn’t here.”
I look up at her.
“May lent them money to build it out a few years back, and they were able to increase their capacity. Increased their ROI by 250%.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Put the owner’s kid through college,” Haven says. I look back to the cafe.
“Jules?” She shakes her head.
“Nah, Jules is just working here to make ends meet. Her mom actually owns the bakery in town. She works both places, till she figures out what she’s doing,” she says. “The owners live down the road a bit. Been here for decades.”
“What do you mean ‘figures out what she’s doing’?”
Haven claps her hands together and wipes them on a napkin.
“Jules has had it tough. She’s sorta…lost, ya know? When they were kids, she lost one of her best friends up here. And then she sorta lost her other best friend as a result. Her parents aren’t the most supportive, so aside from Derrick and Ryder and the rest of them, she is sorta on her own.”
I look back through the window at Jules scrubbing away at a spot on the counter.
Although I’ve been spoon-fed anything I could possibly need, I’m starting to feel some sort of solidarity with Jules. I’m on my own now.
We finish up, throw away our trash, and hop back in her car.
After a few more minutes, she turns right up a steep road, and as we climb the mountain, my ears pop with the pressure. As we near the crest of the hill, there’s a clearing in the trees, and I can see the lake shining through below. Dark, blackish blue, shimmering in the morning sunlight.
“Man, it really is stop-you-in-your-tracks beautiful up here,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says. “You’d think after being here my whole life, I wouldn’t notice it as much. But damn if it doesn’t make me stop every once in a while.”
At the top of the mountain, she takes a right and drives a little ways before she pulls into a gravel parking lot. A small building sits toward the back, and a turquoise sign reads Peake Gifts. As we walk through the door, a bell chimes above us. A piccolo plays over the sound system above us, and some sort of incense is burning toward the back of the store. There are big, beautiful paintings on every wall, Native American men and women in them dancing, making pottery, hunting.
Glass counters line the walls of the store, filled with beautiful turquoise jewelry and pendants.
“Hey, lady,” I hear a familiar voice call from behind me.
“Luna, hey,” I say.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d give her more of a tour,” Haven says from behind me. “Wanted to show her all the gems of Meade Lake. This here is Luna’s family’s shop.”
I nod and look around.
“It’s awesome. This stuff is gorgeous,” I say, pointing to the jewelry. Luna smiles as she walks behind the counter.
“My mom makes most of it,” she says with pride in her eyes. She unlocks one of the sections and pulls out a mat with a bracelet and matching earrings.
“She makes these?” I ask. Luna smiles and nods.
“Yep. Just like my grandmother, and great-grandmother, and great-great-grandmother did before her. I haven’t got it down yet, so I just stand here and sell them.”
I pick one of the earrings up from the mat and twirl it around in my fingers.
“I’ll take the set,” I tell her. Her eyes light up.
“Really?” she asks. I get the impression from the sparse lot and empty shop that there’s not a ton of traffic up here on the mountain.
“Yes, please,” I tell her. She takes the earring from me and walks toward the register to wrap them up in paper. As she’s ringing me up, I see another bracelet similar to the one I’m buying. “I’ll take that one, too.” She gives me a look but hurriedly grabs the other one and adds it to my bag.
“This is a really incredible shop,” I tell her again. She smiles as she looks around.
“This shop is pretty much all my family has left. This shop and this side of the mountain,” she says, her eyes trailing out the window to her left. I want to ask what she means, but Haven rounds the corner behind us.
“You ready to go?” I hold up my bag and nod.
“Yep,” I say. “Thanks again, Luna.”
We get back in and pull our seat belts on, and Haven turns back onto the main road.
“That place was adorable,” I say. Haven nods.
“Yeah. It used to be one of the more popular shops in Meade Lake,” she says. “They developed the mountain so much that it’s pretty much all houses up here aside from the Peake’s half. They own this side of the mountain.”
“They own it?” I ask. She nods.
“Yeah. Luna’s mom is Shawnee. There’s record of her ancestors living on this land as far back as the 1400s.”
“Damn,” I say.
“But over time, as we always seem to do in this country, they were pushed out. Forced to move, forced to change. And her family lost everything they once had to resorts and vacation homes. So they cling to the land they do have pretty fiercely.”
I nod.
“Wow. That’s quite the burden to bear.”
“It is,” she says. “The shop doesn’t bring in the revenue it used to, either. Gran May lent them money a few times, too.”
When we get to the bottom of the mountain, Haven makes a few more turns, and I realize we’re headed to Alma’s.
“Mind if we stop by Alma’s? I know she wanted to see you,” Haven says.
“Sure thing,” I say. There’s something so soothing about Alma’s presence that I feel almost giddy about seeing her.
We pull into her driveway, and I see Mila’s car parked next to the house. To my disappointment, I don’t see Derrick’s truck.
“Hi, babies,” Alma calls to us from the living room. When we walk in, we see Mila standing up on a stool, a beautiful ivory gown hanging off of her body and flowing to the floor. Alma is on her knees in front of her, pins between her teeth, sticking them in strategically.
“Wow,” I say, “that dress is stunning.” Mila smiles as she looks down at it.
“Thanks,” she says. “I can’t believe I’m getting married in six days.” Then her eyes dart to me as she gasps. “Oh, shit. Kaylee!”
“What?” I ask.
“The wedding! I didn’t even think to tell you about it. You weren’t here when we sent out the invites, and we weren’t sure how long you’d––oh, my gosh. I’m so embarrassed. Will you come? Please?”
“Hold still, girl,” Alma calls from below, and Mila quickly snaps back to attention.
“Oh, gosh, Mila,” I say, “you don’t have to do that. Seriously.”
She waves a hand at me.
“Hold still, girl!” Alma says again, and Mila makes a face. I giggle.
“Please. It would mean so much! Especially with May not being here. I mean, not that you’d be replacing her or anything, just that––” She pauses mid-sentence, likely to try to pull the foot from her mouth.
“You should come,�
� Haven says from behind me, sipping water from a glass.
Knowing she wants me there, knowing that she doesn’t feel like I’m impeding on her life, makes me want to go.
“You should, baby,” Alma agrees, pushing up from the ground to look at the back of the dress. “Be with everyone at a happy occasion. It’ll be a nice change of pace. Plus, you can see how the Meade Lake crew puts on a party.”
“Yeah, buddy!” Mila says, pumping her arms in the air and doing an insanely uncoordinated dance. Alma shoots her a look that could absolutely kill, and she freezes again.
After Alma puts the last of the pins and the basting into the dress, she helps Mila out of it, and we all have lunch on the back deck. We spend the afternoon laughing, looking at old photo albums, telling stories, and soaking in the mountain air. Before I know it, we’re having dinner, too, and the sun is going down behind the mountains behind us. Life here is a little slower, a little quieter, but a hell of a lot more peaceful.
I think I’m getting used to it.
My eyes grow wide at the thought. Because this life isn’t mine. At least, it’s not the one I’m supposed to have. It’s not the life that 204 people rely on me for.
“You want me to take you back?” Haven asks, and I shake my head, clearing all thoughts of my other life––my real life––from my head.
“Oh, yeah, thanks,” I say, standing up to clear my dishes. I hug Alma and Mila and type the details of the wedding into my phone, promising her I’ll be there.
When Haven pulls into May’s driveway, I unbuckle slowly. I reach down for the bag I got from Luna’s store and pull out one of the bracelets.
“I, uh, I got you this,” I tell her. Her eyes grow into saucers. I hold it out to her then pull the other one out. She looks at the two bracelets then back to me. A small smile pulls the corner of her mouth up.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothin’,” she says, taking it and clasping it around her wrist. “Just that, a month ago, I didn’t think I’d ever have a sister. Now, I have a sister I have matching friendship bracelets with. Life’s crazy like that.” I smile back at her. “Thank you.”
When I get inside the big old house, I collapse onto the couch. And as I do, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. When Derrick’s name flashes before my eyes, I jump up. We haven’t spoken since last night when he pushed me to the most pleasure I’ve ever had with a man—and that’s really saying something, considering we didn’t even have sex.
“Hello?” I ask, barely letting it ring once.
“I hear you’re going to a wedding this weekend,” he says. I bite my bottom lip.
“I am,” I say.
“What a coincidence. I happen to be in need of a date to the same wedding.” I can’t fight the idiotic smile that’s crossing my lips.
“Oh, is that so?”
“It is. What do ya say?”
“I mean, I have so many suitors calling,” I say with a chuckle. “But I guess I can move you to the top of the list.” He laughs on the other end, and it sends my hormones into overdrive.
“I’d be so appreciative. I’ll pick you up at four?”
“Sounds perfect.” We hang up, and I flop back onto the couch like a teenager who just had her first kiss. As I lie back, my phone vibrates again. I hop back up, expecting it to be him again. Only, it’s not. It’s a text from my mother.
I know you’re not in Miami. Open the door.
Shit.
19
My heart is beating in my throat. I’m afraid to even turn to look out the front door. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for her. I don’t have my bearings together. I have so much I need to say to her, so many questions to ask her, so much to scream, so many tears to cry. But right now, I don’t want to say a word. I want to turn all the lights off and pretend no one’s home. But it’s too late. I hear the rap of her knuckles on the glass door.
I swallow as I pull myself off the couch and down the hall into the foyer. I can see her standing on the porch, looking around. Her hair is darker than mine, a dark brown compared to my honey-blonde waves, but everyone always said our faces looked the same. I used to love that. Now, I’m not so sure. Her perfectly colored locks are pulled back into a bun, and she’s wearing a designer blouse and heels. I almost want to laugh. Leave it to Karnie Jennings, Georgia’s number-one trophy wife, to always, always play the part.
She turns toward the door, and our eyes meet through the glass. I open it slowly, and a cold breeze blows between us, chills rippling on my skin. She takes a step toward me, but I step out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me.
This isn’t her house. And something about her being here feels so, so wrong. Her eyes are wide as she looks me up and down.
She lets out a long sigh then wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her. I can’t bring myself to lift my arms. Not even the slightest bit. She steps back when she feels how stiff the embrace is and looks at me.
“How did you know I was here? What are you doing here?” I ask her. A defensive look passes over her face as she leans back on her hip, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she says. “Your pal Emma spilled the beans on you to her dad. This place looks exactly the same,” she adds, looking up and down at the house. Fucking Emma. I should have known. She looks behind me through the door. “Where is she? Is she here?”
My heart rate starts to accelerate.
She wants to know about Haven. My sister. Her daughter. She’s here for her. And I’m not sure if I should be overjoyed, welcome her change of heart, or be jumping in front of Haven the way I wanted to with Wayne that day at the store.
“No. She’s not staying here right now,” I say. “But I can see about you meeting her. She’s pretty incredible, Mom. I actually think she...I actually think she looks like you a little bit.”
Her eyes grow wide, and she tilts her head to one side the slightest bit.
“I meant May,” she says, her voice low and strained. I tilt my head back slowly. “I don’t
know what she’s told you. She shouldn’t have said a damn word. She swore she’d never––”
“May is dead.”
She stops, her hands dropping to her side, her eyes blinking uncontrollably. I don’t know how to react. The part of me that was raised by her, nurtured by her, loved by her, wants to reach out and hold her. Understand the immense pain of losing a mother.
But the part of me that was born here in Meade Lake, just a few weeks ago, is realizing that I’m losing a mother, too.
She’s not here to meet her other daughter. She’s here to take one back.
“Oh.”
Oh?
“But Haven is here in Meade Lake. Alive and well.”
Her eye twitches as she stares at me, her jaw shaking with what looks to be rage.
“Kaylee, you need to come home now. This has gone on long enough. Nothing good can
come from you being here.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Actually, a lot of good has come over the last few weeks. A lot of truths.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
This isn’t the daughter she’s used to. She’s used to me being like her. She’s used to me
“yes, ma’am”-ing. She’s used to me going along with every idea she or my father had. Every plan they had for me.
“Enough. We can talk about this later. But you need to come home. We need you to sign the paperwork for the women-owned status. Things are getting tighter. It’s time to come home and stop playing around up here. Your father needs––”
I feel a fire coursing through my veins, an anger like I’ve never felt.
“Do you want to meet her, Mom?” I ask, my voice quiet and quivering with fury. Her mouth snaps shut, her eyes boring into mine. I narrow mine as tears rise to the brim. She breaks our staring match and looks down at the ground, rubbing her temple with her perfectly manicured nails.
&nb
sp; “Kaylee, the past is the past. It’s done, and nothing can be undone. Now, I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother––”
“‘My grandmother?’ Do you mean your mother?” I ask, my voice getting louder now.
She swallows audibly, and I want to scream. She still doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t acknowledge my words. She doesn’t acknowledge May or Haven.
“I came here to let you know that the business is in trouble. There are more layoffs––”
“She’s gorgeous, Mom. She’s tall and has these beautiful, big brown eyes. She’s smart, too. Studying business at Sinclair. She’s––”
“Kaylee,” my mother tries to cut in. But I refuse. Haven’s been ignored for so long. Not anymore.
“She’s funny, too. She has this real sarcastic tone. I guess she gets that from May. But I wouldn’t know.”
“Enough!” my mother shouts, and I’m breathing so heavily that my chest is heaving up and down. “I came here to tell you to stop playing around up here! We’re on the brink of losing everything. Everything. And you’re up here playing around. And on whose dime, Kaylee? It’s time to put this little adventurous, self-righteous phase to bed and get your ass back to Georgia.”
She shrinks back a bit when she’s done, realizing the weight of what she’s said. The words “fuck you” are flashing through my brain, but strangely, I feel calm and cool. I feel clarity.
“You need to leave.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms back over her chest.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Get off my porch.”
“Your porch?” she asks. I nod.
“My porch. Go.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” she asks, her voice growing louder. She’s not used to losing, not when what she wants is also what my father wants. I know there’s a reason she’s here by herself. And it’s because this––me, May, Haven––is her problem. A problem she was supposed to have fixed when I was five. I take a step closer to her, and she shrinks back again.
“Get the hell off my porch. Do us both a favor, Mom, and leave us both this time.”
Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2) Page 14
