Flipped! (Spinning Hills Romance 1) (24 page)

Her grandmother hugged her tight and laughed, softly, through her own tears. “I’m sorry. Never mind my own tears. I never could stand to see you or your mother cry.” She wiped her eyes and took Holly’s hands in hers. “Do you remember the stories I’d tell you about my Grandma Tilda?”

“The gypsy witch?” Holly half-smiled.

Grandma Ruby nodded. “She gave me a piece of wisdom once and told me to pass it down because someone would someday need it. I gave it to your mother once, but we ended up getting into one of our legendary arguments.”

A tiny spark shot through her. This was what she needed. A dash of Grandma Ruby’s strange and magical beliefs with an unintended dose of reality. She could imagine her mother’s reaction to being told a gypsy witch had sent some wisdom down for her a generation before. The thought made her smile. “Maybe the piece of wisdom was meant for me. Or Ella.”

“Well, then here it is.” Her grandmother closed her eyes and opened her arms wide. “Everyone comes from somewhere.”

Holly stifled a sigh. Of course everybody came from somewhere.

“And she closed her eyes and opened her arms wide just like that when she said it. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was momentous. Think about it, Holly, and you’ll understand.”

The piece of wisdom was disappointing, but the little ember in her heart still flickered. Her great-great-grandmother sounded like quite the character. She got up to leave, feeling restless again.

“Here, I’ll make you some raspberry and vanilla tea before you leave. It will relax you, but keep you sharp at the same time. It may bring clarity.”

On her way home, Holly’s cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID on her screen and groaned, unable to believe it. She couldn’t handle this particular call at this particular moment, but she answered and listened to the voice on the other side out of a sense of duty.

She hung up a few minutes later with a shake of her head. What a piece of work Claire Dodson was. What a strange conversation.

Pioneer’s Cemetery loomed in the distance. A quiet, peaceful place.

The uphill climb had been invigorating, but tiring. Holly sank down on a bench that overlooked the entire town, but it was too dark to see anything but the faint glow of the distant, meandering streetlights. Flurries drifted in the air, and frost glittered on the grass before her. The icy surroundings matched her mood.

The sound of footsteps cut through the cold silence, but Holly didn’t move. Before long, Dan stood before her. So much for hoping she wouldn’t run into him.

“Hey,” he said, hesitantly. “What’re you doing up here?”

“I don’t know. How about you?”

“Visiting my father’s grave.” He pointed to a grave just a few feet away.

“It’s peaceful and quiet here. Isn’t it?” She looked up.

Dan nodded. “That’s why we chose it, but Sam built this bench for when we wanted to disturb his peace a little.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his lip before looking at her from underneath his lashes. “Am I disturbing yours?”

“Always,” she said, earning a smile.

Jacob Amador’s headstone gleamed in the moonlight, and the evergreen plants lining the grave looked like they had been recently planted. “It’s lovely. Who tends to it?” she asked.

“Marianne.”

Her grandmother had mentioned how much Marianne loved Jacob. “We humans are complicated creatures, aren’t we?”

“We sure are.” Dan sank down next to her, his gaze distant and thoughtful. After a while, he said, “I don’t know how or why we ended up arguing yesterday.”

Holly released a long, pent-up sigh. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know Ben and my dad were coming. They surprised me.”

“Hell of a surprise.” Dan brushed a few curls away from her forehead and Holly again had that crazy feeling that he cared for her . . . followed by the very real feeling that if he did, it was because he didn’t fully know her. “Your ears are cold.” He smiled but she couldn’t smile back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting her chin up with his thumb.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Holly?”

“I’m just—” She looked down and fiddled with her coat sleeves. “Ben’s getting married and coming back to the States, though he’s not sure where. He wants us to come up with a custody agreement and it makes me nervous. Beyond nervous. I don’t want to be away from Ella. A part of me wants to move to wherever he moves to make it easier on all of us. I could move my perfumery. My retail accounts are spread out throughout the country. I don’t have to stay here.”

Dan looked stunned. “You’d move just so she could be near both of you, even though you’re so happy here?”

Holly blinked, surprised at how surprised he sounded. “I hate the idea of leaving, but I hate the thought of having my little girl away from me even more. I can’t fathom it. I don’t even know this Amy woman he’s going to marry, and even if she’s great and loves Ella, neither of them knows what being a full-time parent is like and what it takes.” She took a quick look around, half-afraid her rant had awakened the dead.

He reached for her gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. His entire body had gone tense beside her, but she knew he meant those words. “I wish I knew what else to say.” Again, his tone was sincere and the look in his eyes showed genuine concern, but the hand covering hers was stiff and unmoving and offered her no comfort. Holly pulled her hand away and hid it under her sleeve.

They stayed that way without saying a word for a long time, the chasm between them growing. Holly didn’t have enough mental energy left to try to understand why.

“I should get you home,” Dan said when the soft, random flurries turned into fat, wet flakes. “I brought my car but I didn’t see yours when I parked. Do you need a ride?”

Holly nodded but didn’t move. “Um, before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.” She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Claire Dodson called a little while ago.” It was hard not to cringe when saying his mother’s name, but it felt strange to call her his mom. “She wants to know if you’d be willing to meet.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d have to talk to you, of course.”

Dan looked over at his father’s grave. “I don’t want to see her again. Text me her number and I’ll take care of it. I’ll ask her not to call you again. You’ve got enough going on.”

Holly hesitated. “She seemed to know you wouldn’t want to meet, so she asked for an address where she could send the window.”

“She probably knows the address to the Craftsman. Did you tell her to send it there?”

Holly nodded. “She’d forgotten it, so I gave it to her again. I hope you’re not mad.”

“No. Of course not. The house will now be complete. Owen Amador didn’t finish the job he started, but I will.”

“She said it would be a while before she could send it, but it’ll be great to see both windows in the bedroom. They were already gone the first time I walked through the house. Your m—uh, Claire admitted she convinced a Realtor to sell the windows to her when she came down after your father’s funeral.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she wanted a reminder of the house where she’d spent her happiest moments with you.”

“Right.” He got up. “Well, if I’m no longer here when the window arrives, give it to Sam. He’ll install it.”

“But then you won’t be the one to finish the house.”

“I guess not,” he said, walking on.

 

When Holly opened the door, she came face-to-face with her father.

“I thought you went out for a walk.”

“I did.”

“Then why did I see you get out of a car with your temporary neighbor?” he asked.

“Were you spying on me?”

“No, I wasn’t spying. You left in a hurry, as if you needed to get away, and I was waiting for you. I was worried.”

Holly plopped down in front of him, tired. “I appreciate your concern, but that doesn’t give you a right to question me or doubt what I said. I did go out for a walk, okay?”

Her father sighed and sat down, too. “You’re complicating things again.”

Holly scraped her chair back. “Good night, Dad.”

“Wait.” Her dad grabbed her wrist. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Talking.”

“Start by telling me what’s on your mind without accusing me of anything.”

“A lot of things have been on my mind.” He let go of her wrist and looked down. He was quiet for a while, until he finally sighed and looked up again. “You were always a dreamer, you know, and I had a hard time understanding that. Your mother and I never brought you up here because we thought the last thing you needed was to be surrounded by Ruby’s nonsense.” He shook his head. “But your mother realized we were wrong. She thought we were holding you back and she tried to tell me so before she died, but I was afraid reality would blindside you one day. Then it did, but it blindsided you because you were trying to please everyone around you. I know that now. And now here you are, with the grandmother I thought was such a bad influence, and it fits. But you still made your bed, Holly, and now you have to lie in it.”

As if she didn’t know that. She reached across the table and took her father’s hand in hers because at least he’d tried, and he’d started out strong. He squeezed hers tight. His grip was firm, if not warm. For a while, neither spoke. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are telling me I belong here just when I’m thinking of leaving.” It would be funny if it weren’t so serious.

“You’re thinking of leaving?”

“I can’t picture Ella away from me for long periods of time, Dad. I’m thinking about moving close to where Ben will live. I can move my business. He can’t decide where he ends up, but I can.”

“How many times can you move your business, Holly? You’re not making sense. And Ella told Ben she doesn’t ever want to leave here.”

“What? Ben spoke to her about it? Ella is five, and Ben should
not
have talked to her without me.”

Her father sighed. “He was only asking questions, gauging her reaction to being away from you. And you certainly knew you hated moving when you were five.”

Holly ignored that last part. “We shouldn’t tell her anything until we know where he’s going to live and she meets Amy. It’s not time. I can’t believe he told her.”

Ben stepped out from the hallway. “Will you keep your voice down? You’re gonna wake Ella,” he hissed.

“You shouldn’t have talked to her without me,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“Right. Because you’re the boss of her and I’m just the silent sperm donor. Excuse me for forgetting.”

Holly jerked back. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it! We agreed we’d tell her together, and you went behind my back.”

“You
left
behind my back! And then you got to make any decision you wanted for the last five years without having to answer to anyone.”

“That’s not true.” She swiped at her eyes. “I always call you and consult on the important things.”

“
Everything’s important.
Ella barely knows me and she doesn’t want to leave to be with me, even for a few weeks, without you.” Ben poked the air.

“Calm down, both of you. You’ll wake Ella. This wasn’t all Holly’s doing, Ben.” Her father coming to her defense undid her.

“Why are you yelling?” a small voice asked before gasping.

“Why are you crying?” Holly looked up to see Ella running toward her, her arms open. Holly hugged her and Ben shot her an accusing glance. Holly swallowed her anger and her pain and motioned for Ben to come near, so they could hug her together.

His arms around her so soon after their argument put her further on edge, even though it was the right thing to do.

Everything was changing. Things would be different. She’d grown accustomed to making decisions that involved Ella on her own. Ben always deferred to her judgment because he trusted her parenting skills and he was far away. He’d want to know about things in real time now and not after the fact. As was right.

Later, after they’d put Ella to sleep, Holly sat on the sofa and looked at the house next door, the way she’d done countless times before. She’d wanted the outside painted sage. Dan had painted it a dark bluish gray with white trim. It looked amazing. More like her dream in a way, because it brought out everything she liked best in a way that sage would not have.

A sound in the kitchen made her turn. Her father was leaning against a counter.

“Think long term, Holly,” he said. “But take it one step at a time.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing these past five years.”

“Don’t stop now just because things haven’t turned out exactly the way you thought they would.”

 

After a fitful night, Dan got up at the crack of dawn and began working on the backyard, pulling out a few strong, stubborn tree stumps that threatened the foundation. It was cold and he hoped before long he’d be too numb to think.

His brothers thinking he needed help, Holly’s problems with her ex, her talk of moving. His mother calling Holly, trying to get in touch with him . . . and forgetting the address of the house where she’d dumped her son nearly every day for years.

The pressure in his chest reminded him of everything that had made him leave home in the first place. Leaving had allowed them all to breathe more easily.

But how could he stop hurting for Holly? How could he stop wanting to comfort her and take her problems on? How could he stop the strain from building until it threatened to suffocate him again?

Dan leaned on the shovel and caught sight of Holly’s ex studying the Craftsman, a coffee mug in his hand. He was the last person Dan wanted to see.

“This the house Holly wanted?” Ben asked as he walked over. “She sent pictures, but I hardly recognize it now.”