Virginia McCullough - Love, Unexpected

“Oh, Andi, that was years ago,” Miles said softly. “I can’t believe you’re linking that old mistake with this situation. They’re entirely different. Anyone would have jumped at the offer you got for the house and figured out how to meet the terms later.”

Andi laughed. “You’re right, logically, that is. I guess this is stress talking. And Brooke was crabby about packing up so fast. That’s what brings up the same old feelings that I failed her—again. But I’d rather we move into a residential hotel until I find something. Better than having her mom staying with her dad and his new wife. A woman her dad knew long before he met her mom. It’s complicated, Miles.” Unintentionally, the volume of her voice had increased so she was almost hollering at him. “Sorry, Miles, I’m not mad at you.”

“I get it, but you’re being too hard on yourself. I’ve never criticized you as a mom. Never .”

Now he was getting mad. Another unintended consequence of the quandary she’d created.

“And one more thing. You’re taking Brooke’s bad moods way too seriously,” Miles said, his voice normal again. “Change is hard.”

Andi let out a long, weary sigh. “That’s true. But her riding camp starts soon. I’m hoping being around horses will improve her attitude.”

With a laugh in his voice, Miles said, “She’s told Evan all about her camp in great detail. That kid is so patient, and he’s only fourteen.”

“It’s worked out well for you. The move, I mean, and you and Lark.”

“Yes.” He paused. “I’m not trying to hurt you with this offer of a room in our house. Neither is Lark.”

His gentle tone triggered the growing fullness behind her eyes, but she wasn’t ready to let down her emotional barrier, not even with Miles. “True enough. But try to understand what’s behind my thinking. You and I get along well, and all that, and as much as I rooted for you and Lark, I simply can’t be under the same roof with you two.” She snickered. “That was blunt enough, I hope.”

“Handle it your way,” Miles said matter-of-factly. “I won’t bring it up again.”

She felt lighter. A burden was lifted, and suddenly a hotel suite didn’t seem so bad. She was tempted to tell Miles about other things going on with her, but she held back. They were friendly, but he wasn’t an intimate friend. Besides, she didn’t even know what was going on inside her, or why she was stirred up about change.

They ended the call and Andi immediately searched for local hotels that offered the kind of room she and Brooke would need. Of course, she thought, when the Sleepy Moon Inn came up. She’d seen it on the edge of downtown, only a few blocks away. She searched the site for vacancies, and when the information came up, she made a reservation and breathed a little easier.

Thinking about her exchange with Miles, she realized it was a good thing she hadn’t spontaneously confided her nagging wish for something different, a new direction . Wow. Those were the words she’d used years ago when she’d foolishly told him she wanted a divorce, claiming marriage—to anyone—wasn’t right for her and she needed another path.

Andi shivered inside, thinking of how ridiculous that sounded to her now.

Enough. Look ahead, not back. Her personal motto, particularly after her job ended.

Andi slipped out of her jeans and tank top and pulled her sleep shirt over her head. Going through her nightly routine helped put a stop to the useless journey into the worst part of her past. As she smoothed moisturizer across her cheeks, she struggled to recapture her excitement over the decision to move to Two Moon Bay. But the move itself was only one part of it.

She felt her old patterns shifting. Maybe it was because Brooke was growing up and needed her less. In any case, the changes weren’t limited to the mundane stuff, like finding an apartment or a predictable, if dull job in the same field. Except for a couple of huge mistakes, each involving a man, she’d lived cautiously, maybe too much so. She was always guarding against throwing her life—and Brooke’s—into disarray. Now she wanted more.

Andi fluffed the pillow and turned on her side. Closing her eyes, she decided that if she ended up in the hotel suite, she’d turn it into an adventure for herself and Brooke. She’d convince Brooke it was like camping out but without the bugs. Whoever built that run-down old boat she’d seen earlier must have wanted something out of the ordinary. So why shouldn’t she?

CHAPTER TWO

ZEKE STOOD BEHIND the counter and packed small orders, but kept one eye on his dad going through the routine of leashing Teddy and taking him out for a walk around the block. As always, Art opened the front door, then turned around and said, “Exercise for man and beast.”

“That’s right, Dad,” Zeke responded, as if on autopilot. Talk about a rut. Same walk, same quip every morning.

When the door closed behind the man and the beast, Zeke counted on fifteen minutes to catch up after yesterday’s glitch. He’d put over one hundred miles on his truck driving to exchange orders addressed to the wrong customers so that each package got to the right person. Fortunately, the people involved had done business with Donovan Marine Supply for years. Don’t worry, they’d said. They understood. But how could they? Zeke sometimes had trouble understanding what was happening to his dad.

Correcting these mistakes not only took time, but it also meant leaving Dad alone in the shop. Now, before he got too deep into handling the orders that had come in online overnight, Zeke hurried to the section his dad has stocked the day before. Familiar dread settled in his chest as he prepared himself to double-check the pricing and placement, and, if necessary, fix mistakes.

Crouching to look at the cost of the existing stock of various sizes of nylon line, Zeke matched them against the pricing on the new order. He let all the air out of his lungs and his breathing returned to normal. But that didn’t clear his conscience. No matter how well he prepared himself, he couldn’t fight off little stabs of guilt every time he did precisely what his dad had accused him of—going behind him to check his work.

Maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a sneak if his dad’s memory lapses, or more typically, loss of focus, occurred every day or even every week. But they didn’t. Most of the time, his dad’s work lived up to the standards their customers expected from Art Donovan, and that Art expected of Zeke. But even occasional glitches cost them money—and goodwill—all the same.

Zeke checked the last of the new stock of stainless deck hardware. Satisfied it was in good shape and priced correctly, he went back to orders on the computer.

Zeke’s mood lifted when he saw the orders for two anchor packages—anchor, chain and line. Not bad. They hadn’t even opened the door yet and they already had a substantial sale scheduled for customer pickup later that day. He moved on to the next order, this one for paint and varnish. That made him think of Drifting Dreamer. As he’d gone to sleep last night, the old yacht hung out in his thoughts. What had happened that turned such a classic boat into a wreck? One thing was sure—if they decided to sell fast and get it off their hands, the new owner was going to need a whole lot of both paint and varnish.

Or maybe he’d take on the job of giving that yacht a new life and recover the costs in the sale price. It was an appealing idea Zeke made himself shake off. He barely had time for the occasional building restoration job that came his way. Where would he find time to restore an old boat? He shouldn’t go down this road, anyway—the one where he saw the boat like she was a person with a brain and a heart and whose glory days were behind her.