A Haven on the Bay: A Willa Bay Novel Page 13

  “Yeah. We’re pretty close.” She lightly traced the sole of her right high-heeled shoe along the cement. “We don’t always agree on everything, but we still hang out fairly often. My mom insists on family dinners at least once a month, although she’d prefer we got together even more frequently.”

  He stared at the ice cream shack while asking, “Do you and Meg get along? She seems like she’d be a fun sister.”

  Sam shrugged. “We do, especially since we’re closer in age than I am with Libby. But we’re very different too.”

  “Oh. Well, it must be nice to have her back home after she was gone for so long.” He kept his gaze trained on the service counter. “We should be to the front soon.”

  “Yeah.” She turned her head up to see his face better. He was a handsome guy, and Meg had been right about him being nice. Any woman would be happy to be out on a date with him. Unfortunately, no matter how much Sam tried to convince herself she should be attracted to him, there was no spark between them yet.

  They got their ice cream and walked along the dock, checking out all of the different types of boats moored there.

  “Meg’s boyfriend lives on a boat, right?” he asked.

  She scanned the marina, then pointed to a sailboat a few docks away. “Yeah, something similar to that sailboat.”

  “Ah.” He looked down at his dessert and took a huge bite. “Do you think she’s serious about him?” he mumbled.

  Sam stopped abruptly. Now that she was no longer moving, the sway of the dock was much more apparent. “You know, I don’t really know. They’ve been together for a few months, but I’ve only met him once. I only know what his boat looks like because Meg pointed it out to me when we were down at the Willa Bay Marina.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” he said quickly, stuffing the rest of his cone in his mouth.

  “You’re not interested in my sister, are you?” It seemed like a weird thing to ask on a first date, but the words spilled out before she could censor them.

  He choked slightly and swallowed. “Like romantically?” He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes.

  “Yeah.” She peered at him. “Are you?” And if he was interested in Meg, why had he agreed to go out on a date with her younger sister?

  “No, of course not. We’re just friends.” He started walking again, this time toward the ramp leading off the docks.

  She jogged to keep up with him. When they reached the top of the ramp, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure of what?” he asked, nonchalant.

  “That you don’t have a thing for Meg.” She stared at him.

  He sighed, then said in an irritated voice, “There’s nothing going on between Meg and me.”

  Sam noticed he’d sidestepped her question, but she wasn’t going to press the matter further. One thing was for sure though—Taylor had feelings for her sister, whether he knew it or not. The walk back to the restaurant parking lot seemed to take twice as long in silence as it had when they’d chatted amicably on the way to the marina.

  On the ride home she again made an effort to entice him into conversation, and this time she was successful. As they chatted, the walls Taylor had erected earlier seemed to melt away. When he reached her apartment complex, he dropped her off at the front of her unit, and they said friendly goodbyes before she got out of the car and walked herself to her door.

  Up until she’d asked him about Meg, she’d had a good time, so this hadn’t been the worst date ever. However, it was safe to say there wouldn’t be a second one, as he obviously had feelings for her sister.

  Still, her family had been right. Going out with Taylor had made her realize that she needed to have more fun, and that breaking up with Brant hadn’t been the end to her social life. She and Taylor hadn’t been a match made in heaven, but her time would come. Until then, she had plenty of time to figure out the other aspects of her life.

  13

  Debbie

  “You seem like you’ve been feeling a little down lately.” Debbie’s husband Peter set his fork on his empty plate and peered at her from his customary seat across from her at the dining room table. “Is there something going on?”

  Debbie pushed strands of noodles around her plate, twirling them into intricate patterns and piles. A thick lump had formed in her throat, making it impossible to eat. “I’ve been kind of out of sorts since finding out about Diana’s death last month.” It had started well before that, to be truthful, but the shock of discovering her friend had died brought her sense of unrest to the forefront.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I know her death hit you hard. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She shrugged and met his eyes, which were full of kind sympathy as he regarded her. She swallowed hard, then said, “I don’t know. I’m not used to feeling like this—like I’m not in control of my own life.”

  He frowned, deep furrows lining his forehead. “Nobody has complete control over what happens to them.” He got up from his chair and moved closer to her, rubbing his hand lightly across her back. His touch was warm and comforting, but at the same time threatened to break through her outward composure. “Is it only your friend’s death, or is there something more?”

  She didn’t know how to answer him. It was Diana’s death, compounded by the nagging feeling that she wasn’t living her own life to the fullest. After existing in a constant state of fear that the cancer was going to steal dozens of years from her life, the scans last spring had come back clean. At that point, she’d started to breathe easier, finally allowing herself to believe that she had a future. Thinking about what lay ahead had come with its own issues.

  For the last few decades, she’d happily embraced her role as a mother, and later, a business owner. The two years following her cancer diagnosis had been the first time in a while that she’d stepped off of the crazy merry-go-round of life and experienced a significant amount of downtime. Since then, she’d been taking stock of what was truly important to her. Those ruminations had screeched to a halt when Libby’s financial situation changed and she’d needed their catering company to take on more jobs.

  Debbie looked up at her husband of thirty-nine years, hope leaping to the surface. “Can we take a trip to Italy?” she asked impulsively. “Maybe next spring, for our fortieth anniversary? I hear the countryside is gorgeous in the spring.”

  He leaned back in his chair to process her request. When he finally spoke, the words came out slowly, as though he were pushing them through a vat of molasses. “I don’t know if I can get the time off for an international vacation. Things have been hectic lately at work.” He studied her face intently and she knew he didn’t want to disappoint her. Still, it was the same thing he’d told every time she asked.

  She stared at him, biting her lower lip. Would his answer ever change? “Things are always crazy at your work. We haven’t taken a long vacation in years.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Please, Peter. This is important to me.”

  He softened, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She melted against him, feeling so emotionally fragile that she might collapse into a puddle of tears at any minute. Seeing the sights of Italy had long been a dream of hers, but now it had become a symbol for everything she wanted to do with the time she had left on earth.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he whispered into her hair. He held her close for a few minutes.

  When she felt stronger, she sniffled, and sat up. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I do want to take a nice vacation with you, but I know I sound crazy.” Here she was, a mature woman in her early sixties, and she was acting like a teenager who hadn’t received the car she’d begged for.

  “You don’t sound crazy.” He cupped her chin and gently kissed her lips. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but we’ll work it out together. I want you to be happy. You know that, right?”

  She hiccupped a l
ittle as she tried to stem the flow of tears, whispering, “I know.” She dabbed at her eyes with her unused table napkin. “But what if even I don’t know what I want?”

  He met her gaze, staring deeply into her eyes as he spoke. “I think you need to figure out what makes you happy and go for it. You’ve spent so many years of your life trying to make other people happy. You deserve a chance to find that happiness for yourself, even if it means letting other people down.” He pushed his chair back and reached for her hands, squeezing them between his own in a gesture that always comforted her.

  Libby. Deep down, Debbie knew she had to tell Libby that she couldn’t continue working so many hours in the catering kitchen. The extra workload was causing her too much stress. But who could she trust to help? She’d spent so many years building the business’s reputation, and although she knew Libby could manage the company’s day-to-day operations, she’d need consistent help with the actual catering jobs. Unfortunately, Debbie didn’t know anyone who fit the bill and was available.

  She let out a slow, deep exhale, hoping it would give her much-needed clarity. “Libby needs the money from the catering business. She’s been a nervous wreck since Gabe was officially laid off last week. Now isn’t the right time to tell her I don’t want to work so much. She needs me.”

  “Could Samantha help out more with the business?” Peter asked, immediately going into solve-it mode.

  Debbie shook her head. “She can work for us on the weekends, but she’s got her teaching job during the week.” She frowned. Something was going on with her youngest daughter, but Debbie didn’t know what. It could just be residual sadness from the breakup with Brant, but Debbie sensed there were other issues in play as well.

  Peter sighed. “I’m sure there’s something that can be done to keep the catering company running but still allow you more freedom to pursue your own interests.” He returned to his seat and drained the contents of his water glass. “I’ll ask for two weeks off in the spring so we can take that trip, but it’s not going to solve all of your problems. Something has to give.”

  Debbie’s spirits lifted. It was a longshot for him to get the time off of work, but at least now he was seriously considering the trip. If only the other problems nipping at her could be fixed by a simple request.

  “I know. I’ll work on a plan for the business.” She offered him a small smile to let him know she was feeling better.

  He smiled back at her, picked up his empty plate and nodded to hers. “Are you done? You’ve barely eaten a thing.”

  He was right. She glanced at the mound of linguine with clam sauce congealing on her dinner plate. It was virtually untouched, but she felt no desire to eat. “I think I’ll save it for later.”

  He took it from her, sealed it with plastic wrap, and placed it in the refrigerator. She rose from the table too, and rinsed off dishes accumulating in the sink before filling the dishwasher. The familiarity of the mundane chore gave her a brief respite from her internal conflict. Peter excused himself to his den to pay bills, and she collapsed in her favorite recliner.

  A trip to look forward to was a start, but she needed something more. Debbie’s brow furrowed as she picked up her knitting supplies from the basket on the floor beside her. What would make her happy? Her kids and grandkids did, for sure, but she needed to find something of her own as well, something that would give her life meaning.

  She thought while her knitting needles clicked together furiously, adding rows on to the winter hat she’d started for her granddaughter, Kaya. As the hat grew, so did a flurry of ideas. She smiled. Somehow, she’d solve her dilemma with the catering company, and then she’d be free to focus on the project taking shape in her mind.

  14

  Taylor

  Taylor squeezed his eyes shut more tightly as the plane’s wheels bounced a few times on the runway, only opening them when it slowed to a sedate roll across the tarmac. Every time he flew, he thought his fear of flying would decrease. So far, that hadn’t happened. It wasn’t that he had a fear of heights—he was perfectly fine climbing the face of a mountain. He had an irrational fear the plane would suddenly fall out of the sky.

  “You’re not a fan of flying, are you?” asked the white-haired woman next to him. She smiled kindly and the tightness in his chest decreased.

  He took a deep breath and chuckled a little. “No, not really. I try to avoid it whenever possible.” He glanced out the window. Heat radiated off of the blacktop as the baggage handlers worked swiftly to unload the baggage from the plane’s belly. He looked back at his seatmate. “I am glad to be home though.”

  “Oh? Do you live here?”

  “No, I actually live in Washington now, but I grew up in this area.” He stretched out his legs as much as possible. When he had to fly, he always tried to get a seat in the exit row for the extra leg room, but it hadn’t been available on this flight. Normally, he preferred to drive the 1300 miles between Willa Bay and San Diego, but it was the busy season at the Lodge, and he’d been lucky just to get Labor Day weekend off to attend his sister’s wedding.

  “Ah. I see.” She turned slightly in her seat and pointed at a family a few rows down. “My daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids are here on vacation. We’re looking forward to seeing the zoo.”

  He nodded. “You’ll enjoy it. I have good memories of going there for a class field trip in elementary school.” The people seated in front of them moved into the aisle and grabbed their bags, so both Taylor and the woman stood. He removed his backpack from the overhead compartment, then pulled her carry-on out as well.

  “Thank you.” She beamed as he set the hard plastic case in front of her. “I hope you enjoy your time at home.”

  “Thanks. I hope you and your family have a wonderful vacation. It’s supposed to be beautiful this week.” He turned around and waited patiently as a man in front of him wrestled an overstuffed suitcase free from the bins. Finally, it was their turn to deplane.

  Heat blasted through the walls of the jet bridge, making him wish he’d worn shorts for the trip. He was grateful for the air-conditioned interior of the airport, however, as he followed the overhead signs to baggage claim. When he stepped out of the secure area, a tall woman with long black hair parted on the side came out of nowhere and threw her arms around him.

  The force of her assault and the weight of his backpack knocked him about a half-step backward. After recovering from the surprise, he hugged his younger sister tightly, filling with a sense of happiness and home. “Suzy-Q! What are you doing here? I thought Mom and Dad were going to wait for me outside.” He released her and held her at arm’s length.

  Susanna laughed. “Nope, the whole family’s here. Well, minus Diana. She had some primping to do before her bachelorette party tonight.”

  He looked past her and saw his parents and his sister, Cammie, along with Cammie’s young boys, Jason and Andrew. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. This is quite a homecoming.”

  “We couldn’t do anything less for the prodigal son,” Susanna quipped. “You finally decided to deign us with your presence, so we’re not going to let any of your time at home go to waste.”

  He mock-scowled at her. She returned the look, then giggled just like she used to do when they were kids.

  His dad stepped up and clapped him on the back. “Good to see you, Taylor,” he said gruffly.

  “We’ve missed you.” Tears welled in his mother’s eyes, sending tendrils of guilt winding their way through his veins.

  “I came home last Christmas,” he protested. “It’s not like I’ve been gone for years.” He looked over at Cammie’s sons, who were tugging at their mother’s hands, bouncing in place as they waited their turn to say hi to him. They’d both grown so much in the last nine months. He’d talked to them over video calls, but it hadn’t been the same as seeing them in person.

  “It might as well be.” His mother pulled him into her arms like he was a small child and not a grown man who towered over her petite
frame.

  When their mother was done greeting Taylor, Cammie let her sons loose. They ran to him and hugged his legs in the vise grip perfected by small children and monkeys.

  Taylor grinned at Cammie. “I think they missed me.”

  She smiled. “They’ve talked about little else for the last week than you coming home. Don’t tell Diana, but I’m pretty sure your visit is way more important to them than her wedding.”

  Four-year-old Andy looked up at him and stuck out his tongue. “Ew, weddings.”

  All of the adults laughed, and Andy wrinkled his nose indignantly. Taylor picked up little Jason, who weighed less than his backpack, as the baggage carousel started its rotation. He set him next to Cammie and Andy, a safe distance away from where passengers were dragging their luggage off the conveyor belt.

  Taylor spotted his navy-blue, full-size suitcase and grabbed it, extending the handle as he rejoined his family.

  Susanna raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you only here for a few days? You must pack more than any woman I’ve ever known.”

  “No.” He shot her an icy death glare that made her smirk. “My dress suit wouldn’t fit in any of my other suitcases without getting wrinkled. Everything else could have fit in my carry-on.” He prided himself on his ability to pack efficiently, and although he knew she was teasing, he felt oddly defensive about it.

  Although he had made friends in Willa Bay, being home with his family was completely different. They knew all of his little quirks, and exactly how to needle him. In Willa Bay, he’d only developed that type of friendship with one person—Meg. Spending countless hours together in the kitchen had given them an easy familiarity. Even so, the time they’d spent together recently made him realize how little they still knew about each other.

  He looked at his watch. “Is anyone else hungry? The only thing they gave us on the flight was a bag of stale crackers.”

  Cammie grinned. “Oh, little brother, you haven’t changed a bit. Always thinking about food, just like when you were a teenager.” She eyed her boys ruefully. “I’m not looking forward to our grocery bills when these two get a little older.”