Читать книгу Playing the Part - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

LINDY RETURNED FROM the marina and went in search of something to eat. She found her grandfather puttering around in the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich. She slid onto the barstool and smiled with love in her heart for the old guy. He hadn’t changed much physically. Maybe his hair had a bit more gray and he wasn’t as robust as he once was but he still had that same indescribable quality about him that made him Pops. Even if he was slowly losing his grip on reality.

“Whatcha got there, Pops?” Lindy asked, bending to take a sniff of his plate and opening her mouth as if she were going to gobble it down right there in front of him.

“Hey now, get your own,” he warned and pulled the plate from the snap of her jaws. “There’s plenty. Celly just stocked the pantries.”

Lindy cocked her head. “Celly?” she asked, curious. “She does the shopping now?”

“Well, your grams...she’s hard to find these days for the little stuff, like grocery shopping and whatnot, so Celly offered to do the shopping. She’s also a great cook. Have you tried her boiled bananas yet? Damn near as good as anything they sell at The Wild Donkey.”

“The Wild Donkey,” Lindy murmured, remembering the popular local hangout. “I can’t believe they’re still in business.”

“Nothing much changes around here, just the people,” Pops remarked, taking a hefty bite of what appeared to be a turkey and cranberry sandwich with lots of sprouts. “Mmm...that’s good,” he said with a grunt of approval. “Your grams talked Celly into all this healthy stuff and at first I was skeptical, but damn if she doesn’t have me eating like a rabbit and liking it, besides. Wonders never cease, huh?”

Lindy smiled as she pulled the fixings for her own sandwich. “So...Pops...how is Grams feeling these days?” she asked, feeling out the framework of Pops’s elaborate fantasy. “She okay?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Pops answered with a faint scowl as if he were annoyed that Lindy had even asked. “Why? She say something to you?”

Lindy’s mouth curved in a faint smile as sadness brushed across her thoughts. She’d been fifteen when Grams had gotten sick. It’d been a horrible time. Sometimes she wished she could forget, too. Lindy blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes and focused on her sandwich. “Nope,” she answered brightly, slathering mayo on her bread. “Just making sure everyone’s good and healthy. I’ve been gone awhile so you know, just want to make sure I haven’t missed anything important.”

“Everything’s fine, sugar bird,” he assured her with a smile, biting into his sandwich. “Everything’s just fine.”

“Good.” She dumped a handful of turkey on her bread with a little more force than necessary. Pops looked up with a quizzical expression and she forced a laugh. “Oops. My bad.”

Pops switched subjects without her needing to, saying, “Lindy...I’m worried about Lilah. I think she’s going through something...and you two have always been so close. Maybe you could talk to her?”

“Sure, Pops,” Lindy answered, sprinkling her sandwich with a liberal dose of salt and pepper. She liked it almost inedible to most tastes. The first time her friends had watched her doctor her Subway sandwich they’d nearly fallen over in shock. Of course, it could’ve also been for the fact that she was eating a full six-inch instead of cutting it in half to save for the following day. She sank her teeth into the sandwich and groaned in happiness. “What makes you think Lilah is bothered by something?” she asked around the bite in her mouth. “She seemed okay to me yesterday.”

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, now that she thought about it. But then Lilah had always orbited her own planet and no one thought to question her flight pattern. Lindy loved her twin desperately, but she did worry about her at times. She’d tried to get her to move to Los Angeles, but even as the offer had fallen from her mouth she knew that was never going to happen. Lilah in Los Angeles would be like feeding a lamb to the lions. She’d stick out like a sore thumb in Lindy’s circles; worse, some sleazy producer type might try to sleep with her. Lindy sighed and took another bite. “Yeah,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “I’ll talk to her, Pops.”

“I knew I could count on you.” He rose from the table and tossed his trash, then brushed a quick, smacking kiss on her cheek. She smiled at the contact and watched as he went on his merry way, likely to go find his wife.

How did someone lose their grip on reality like Pops? He seemed completely lucid, unless you considered the fact that he held conversations with a woman who’d been dead for almost ten years. It broke her heart, but what could she do? Pushing reality on him seemed to make it worse—Lora had learned that the hard way—but eventually his grip on everything was going to slip, right? She hated to think of that moment, so she didn’t. Finishing her sandwich, she burped with total satisfaction just as Lora walked in and gave her a disgusted look. “What? In Europe that’s considered a compliment to the chef.”

“We’re not in Europe,” Lora reminded her. “Hey, I’m glad I found you. We’re going to have a family meeting tonight to discuss the situation with Larimar. It’s time to start implementing some strategies.”

She groaned at the overly bright light in Lora’s eyes. In her previous life—before she lost her job and Heath dragged her back to St. John to help fix this mess facing the resort—she’d been something of a marketing shark. And judging by the look on her face, she missed the action. Likely, if she saw a spreadsheet she’d shudder with ecstasy. But Lindy wasn’t hardwired that way. She hated the words marketing strategy, loss leader and anything that would compel someone to open an Excel spreadsheet. But she hadn’t returned home to hang out and spruce up her Caribbean tan. She was here to pitch in. More’s the pity. She sighed grumpily. “What time?”

Pleased with the fact that Lindy hadn’t tried to get out of it, Lora actually smiled as she grabbed a banana on the go. “How about seven? That way dinner is out of the way.”

“Good. And drinks can follow,” Lindy quipped, adding drily, “and they should. Lots of them if we’re going to get through the evening without killing one another.”

Lora’s smile faded, but she didn’t call Lindy out for her bad attitude. Thank God for small favors. Lindy wasn’t in the mood to start a word war with her older sister.

“Did you apologize to Mr. Weston?”

Lindy chewed her bottom lip as she quickly processed an easy answer to her sister’s pointed question. She could tell the truth, but then that would lead to all sorts of exclamations and recriminations over her bad attitude and the consequences of her sharp tongue—blah, blah, blah—and since it had all turned out fine in the end...

“Yep,” Lindy answered with a short smile.

“Good.” Lora smiled, seeming relieved. “I have to confess I was a little worried you might make things worse.”

Lindy scowled. “If you thought that, why’d you insist I apologize?”

Lora’s smile widened. “It was a leap of faith. I think.”

Lindy bit back the sarcasm dancing on her tongue. She supposed she couldn’t be too peeved; in a way her sister’s fear had been accurate. But at least Lindy had managed to fix things, and that’s what counted anyway.

“One less reason to worry. Thanks, Lindy,” Lora said and breezed from the room.

Lindy rubbed her full stomach and headed to her room to grab her iPod. She was hoping to catch some rays before the day was finished, and the sun was quickly sinking into the horizon.

Of course, as luck would have it, that was not in the cards.

“Miss Bell?” A voice called out at her back and she grimaced, recognizing the firm timbre as belonging to Carys’s father, Gabe Weston. She pivoted on her heel and pasted on a perfunctory smile for his benefit in an effort to be nice.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I wondered if I might talk to you for a minute.... It’s about Carys.”

A ripple of unease followed. “What’s wrong? Everything okay? What’s the kid done now?”

“Nothing,” he answered with a faint scowl.

“Oh, c’mon. You and I both know the kid’s got devil juice running through her veins. Don’t get me wrong...I like her, but...yeah, she’s a handful. We pulled out another tie, by the way. Would you like me to show you the plumber’s bill now or later?”

“Another one?”

“Well, to be fair, we think it was part of the original batch she sent whizzing down our pipes, but it got stuck and the plumber managed to fish it out. Something tells me you aren’t going to want it back.”

“Ah...sorry about that. Send me the bill. I’ll cover it.”

“Oh, it’s on your bill,” she assured him with a smile. “At this rate, the plumber is going to send you a fruit basket in appreciation.”

At his sharp look, her grin brightened and he faltered, clearly not quite sure what to think of her. She didn’t hold his confusion against him. Most people didn’t know what to think of her. It was part of her charm. At least, that was how she liked to think of it. He recovered after a moment and returned to his original train of thought. “Listen, my daughter seems to have taken a shine to you....”

“Yeah? That’s cool. I take back what I said about the devil juice. She’s obviously a kid with a great judge of character.”

“Uh...yeah, about that,” he continued, uncomfortable. “Here’s the thing, I’m just going to give it to you straight—”

“Great. I hate when people blow smoke up my ass. Makes me burp.”

At that he almost laughed and she was struck by how handsome he could be when he wasn’t acting like a stiff jackass. She regarded him with as much seriousness as she could muster. She was already bored with the conversation—mostly because she had a feeling whatever he was struggling to tell her wasn’t going to make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside—and she wanted to get it over with.

“You have to understand, my daughter is very impressionable and it’s not personal, really, but—”

“Oh wait, this sounds like a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, which is funny because we’re not even dating. Also funny because I’m usually the one delivering that line.”

He flushed and shot her a short look as if to say, will you stop interrupting so I can finish this difficult conversation? But she was way ahead of him and simply said with a sigh, “I get it. You don’t want her hanging out with someone as ultracool as me—an almost famous celebrity—because you wouldn’t want to set her up with an unreal expectation of what life can be like. I get it. It’s okay.” She patted him on the shoulder. “But honestly, Gabe— Can I call you Gabe? Okay. Good. Here’s the thing. I think we should give kids a high bar to reach for. You know? So they can rise to the occasion. But that’s just me. You do what you feel is right. She’s your kid.”

And with that, she left him, staring with his jaw open slightly and a serious what-the-eff just happened? look on his face. And Lindy tried not to laugh.

Lindy left a lot of people with that very same expression. She suspected one particular director had pegged it precisely: she simply didn’t accept anything she didn’t want to hear and therefore created her own reality.

Now that she thought about it, maybe she had more in common with Pops than she realized.

Huh. Interesting.

But she had to admit Gabe Weston was not hard on the eyes. Not at all, she thought as she grabbed her beach towel and sunscreen.

Too bad she didn’t date guys with kids. That was a deal-breaker in her book.

No matter how hot they were.

No matter how much she kinda liked the kid.

No. Matter. No. How.

Rules were rules, which ordinarily she delighted in breaking, unless they were her own rules, then she stuck to them religiously.

Yep. She was funny like that.

She spied Lilah and waved. “Hey, wanna hit the beach with me?”

“You bet. Gimme a sec.” Lilah grinned with a nod before disappearing to grab her own towel and beach bag.

While she waited for her sister, Lindy’s gaze strayed in the direction of Bungalow 2 for just a minute, then she sighed.

What a tragedy.

Rules sucked.

* * *

GABE WAS FAIRLY certain the hot woman had just bamboozled him.

Worse, he wasn’t sure how it’d happened or how he’d allowed it to happen.

He supposed that was the foundation of a good bamboozle—the element of surprise.

Gabe was still thinking about Lindy when Carys came into view. She looked adorable in her pink bathing suit and for a moment he let his guard down. It didn’t matter how she infuriated him, the love he felt for this kid was beyond comprehension. She’d been their miracle child, part of the reason she was an only child. Charlotte had struggled to get pregnant and they’d gone through several IVF cycles to finally conceive. They used to joke that Carys had been their million-dollar baby because when it was all said and done, the medical bills had been astronomical.

“She better be the next president,” he’d joked a few months after Carys had been born and another wave of bills had come through. Charlotte, her blond hair tucked in a messy knot at the back of her head, simply graced the sleeping baby in her arms with an adoring smile and he forgot all about the dollar amount it’d taken to get their bundle of joy. All that had mattered was the love they all felt for this tiny person who’d come into their lives on a cloud of hopes and dreams. He’d pressed a kiss to her downy head, inhaling the soft sweet scent at her crown. “She’s worth every penny,” he’d admitted to Charlotte. Charlotte’s eyes had watered and she’d lifted her mouth to his, sealing their lips with an

emotion-filled kiss.

“You’re an amazing husband...and an even more amazing father,” she’d murmured. “I love you.”

Gabe closed his eyes, wincing against the hurt that always followed when he thought of Charlotte. It’d been a year since she’d died. Sometimes it felt as though it were yesterday. He shook himself free of the pain wrapping itself like a band around his chest and forced a smile for Carys’s benefit. “Hitting the beach?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Carys answered, for once giving him a straight answer instead of one laced with sarcasm. He took that as a good sign. “Wanna come with me?”

Doubly pleased that she thought to include him without his prompting, he agreed quickly. “Let me just go get my BlackBerry and—”

“No phone,” she returned with a faint scowl. “Can’t you go two minutes without your emails and whatever?”

He hesitated but he could see she was waiting for him to choose her over his work. It was an easy choice if a choice was given but that was the thing...he was the boss. He had to know what was happening at all times. A lot of lives depended on him making all the right decisions for the company. He knew this was a concept an eleven-year-old girl couldn’t possibly understand, but someday he hoped she might and forgive him for being a workaholic. “It’s not that simple, honey,” he said finally, hating the disappointment in her face. “But I tell you what, tonight at dinner...no phone at all. It’ll just be me and you. I promise.”

Carys regarded him with a knowing expression that bordered on distrust and it cut him to the core. Finally, she shrugged and started walking. “Whatever,” she added over her shoulder and he swore under his breath. He should’ve just agreed to leave his phone behind. What was an hour or two incommunicado? But it was too late now and he was expecting an important phone call, besides. He sighed and walked to the bungalow, his heart heavy. Things had to change. But how was he supposed to make it change if he couldn’t even spend the afternoon with his daughter without it devolving into a fight? He didn’t have an answer.

That was the problem. Lately, when it came to Carys, he never had the answer.

He missed his wife—her smile, her easygoing nature, her way of smoothing over the rough spots—but most of all, he missed the way his daughter was when Charlotte was alive.

Just as he’d been unable to prevent Charlotte from dying, he felt incapable of stopping the downward slide in his relationship with Carys. Soon, she’d leave behind the preteens and head straight into the dreaded teenage years and everyone always said those were worse. He groaned softly. He couldn’t even imagine.

He grabbed his phone and saw a missed call from the very person he’d been waiting for. “Damn,” he muttered and quickly checked his voice mail.

This call couldn’t wait. There was a three-hour time difference between here and California, which was where his office was located. With one final glance toward the beach, where he saw Carys setting up her beach gear, he quickly dialed his associate. He’d make it a brief call. Ten minutes tops.

Forty-five minutes later, deep in a tricky contract negotiation, Gabe knew all hope for time at the beach with his daughter had evaporated.

And it made him sick to his stomach. He made a mental promise to make it up to her at dinner.

Somehow his guilt felt like Charlotte’s disapproval. He was a poor substitute for a mother.