Just a Kiss (18 page)

“Oh! How wonderful. I'm glad it wasn't as bad as Ellen made it out to be. He was always such a nice boy.”

Paige frowned at the phone. Who was this woman? And why was she being so nice? Then she felt a twinge of guilt. People changed. They grew.

“Well . . . the reason I called . . . I know it's long overdue, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior after your father passed away. It's no excuse, but my grief was just overwhelming. I hope you'll forgive me for being so insensitive.”

“Of course. I already have. Long ago.”

“That's very kind of you, dear. Regardless of the circumstances, you know I always thought of you as my daughter.”

Words choked in Paige's throat. In spite of the past, Darleen's proclamation made her chest squeeze tight. She was the only mom Paige remembered. She'd spent many years longing for such words. For a speck of kindness. Was it possible time and distance had softened the woman's heart?

“I was also hoping . . . if I made a trip to the coast, would you be willing to meet me for coffee or something, dear? I'd like to catch up.”

Paige's emotions were jumbled up inside. She wasn't sure which way was up, so she said the only thing she could think of. “Sure, of course.”

“I'm so happy to hear that, Paige. Would you be free this Saturday? Around two o'clock?”

This Saturday?

“Um, yes. I can do that.” She imagined meeting at Wicked Good Brew, everyone in Summer Harbor bustling in and out. “Why don't you just come to my house?”

She gave Darleen her address, and a few minutes later Paige hung up, her mind whirling with disbelief and shock, and maybe just a little of something else. Hope.

P
aige moved the centerpiece to the coffee table, then stood back and considered its new spot. No, it was too small for the table. She moved it back to the end table and frowned. The arrangement of artificial hydrangeas hadn't seemed so chintzy when she'd picked it up at a garage sale for two dollars. She shoved it under the table, out of sight.

Dasher swished against her legs, purring.

“Who's my baby, huh? You are, aren't you, little girl.” She swept the cat into her arms, nuzzling the feline's fuzzy gray head as she walked toward her bedroom.

She set Dasher down on the bed, and the cat's back arched as she gave it a long stroke. “Sorry, sweetie, but Darleen isn't a fan. I'll have a treat for my girl later.”

She returned to the living room, looking it over again. Everything was tidy, and the house smelled Pine-Sol clean. She walked into the kitchen, checking the time. The coffee beans were already ground, so she measured them out and poured them
into the filter. The coffee had just begun to trickle out when a tap sounded at the door.

Paige drew in a steadying breath and blew it out.
Sheesh, Paige. Relax. It's only Darleen.
Except Darleen was also Mom. Or was she? She didn't even know what to call her anymore.

She straightened her blouse, and when she reached the living room she pulled open the door. The woman who stood on the porch looked much the same. Her hair was still the same shade of auburn, but it was shorter. The roots grown out a bit. She wore a pair of fitted jeans and a trendy top that was a bit frayed around the collar.

There were new shadows under her eyes, new crow's-feet at the corners. But she still had a dazzling smile, and it was laser focused on Paige. Her blue eyes—which Paige had once attributed her own color to—were soft and shiny and as warm as a June day.

“Mom.” The word slipped out.

But before Paige could second-guess the attribution, Darleen pulled her into a hug. “Paige. Oh, honey, you look so good. Just beautiful.”

Paige's arms settled around Darleen's sturdy shoulders. She'd put on a bit of weight. Surprising, since she'd always watched her diet so carefully. But Paige thought the extra weight softened her a bit. Made her look, and feel, less severe.

“Come in, come in,” Paige said when they drew apart.

“What a lovely house. A friend from church used to live right across the street.”

“Mrs. Farrell? She still does. Her husband passed away last year. A fishing accident.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. They were always such a nice couple.”

“Have a seat. Do you still take your coffee with cream and sugar?”

“You remembered.”

Most of what she remembered about Darleen she was trying to forget. Paige fetched the coffee. Her hands trembled as she pulled the carafe from the cubby. Why was she so nervous? For heaven's sake, it was only Darleen.

Mom.

Riley had been anxious about the meeting. He'd wanted to be here for it, but he worked Saturdays now, and he could hardly ask for time off already. Paige had assured him it wasn't necessary. But now that the moment had arrived, she wished he was there.

A moment later she carried the two mugs into the living room.

Darleen took a sip of her coffee, then set down the mug and pulled her sweater tighter. “I'd forgotten how chilly it is on the coast with the wind.”

“Would you like a blanket?”

“The coffee will warm me right up.”

Paige had worried about keeping the conversation rolling, but Darleen took care of that. She asked Paige about her work, and Paige told her about the shelter's financial difficulties and all the fundraisers and promoting she'd done over the summer.

They talked about Riley's return and recovery, Darleen tsking sympathetically over his injury. She patted Paige's leg, hanging on to every word. Paige caught her up on the Callahans. Mr. Callahan had passed away since she'd left town, and of course, Beau and Zac had each married.

Paige showed her pictures on her phone, and Darleen exclaimed over how handsome the Callahan brothers had grown up to be. She seemed eager for every detail of Paige's life, so Paige continued flipping through the pictures on her phone, expounding on some of them.

She found herself relaxing and enjoying the give-and-take of the conversation. She wasn't sure why she'd been so nervous.

When she'd exhausted her stories, Paige turned the subject to Darleen and listened patiently as the woman caught her up on life in Augusta. They carefully avoided the topic of Paige's father, and she wondered if Darleen was still grieving him. For all her faults, the woman had loved her dad.

Darleen's sister was seeing a handsome orthodontist, and Darleen regaled her with stories from his office. When she stopped for a sip of warmed-up coffee, Paige found the nerve to ask.

“What about you . . . are you seeing anyone special these days?” “Me? Oh no. I've quite adjusted to the single life. I've gone out here and there, but there hasn't been anyone special. I'm quite content living with my sister.”

“But won't she and her orthodontist get married eventually?”

Darleen's lips pressed into a line, and Paige immediately regretted her question.

But Darleen's face relaxed into a smile. “Deb will never remarry. She had a difficult first marriage, I'm afraid.”

“I recall a little of that. She stayed with us for a while.”

“Terrible man. The divorce about put her over the edge, he made it so hard on her. I say good riddance. She's doing so much better without him.”

“I'm glad to hear that. She was always very good to me.”

She reached over and took Paige's hand, squeezing it. “I'm so thankful you've made time for me today. I have such fond memories of you, dear. And of your father, of course.”

Paige suppressed the surprise she felt. She gave a careful smile instead and searched for something to say. Something true. “We had some good times, didn't we?”

A few anyway.

“I miss him so. I fell so hard and quickly for him. It was love at first sight for me, you know.”

Paige had heard the story many times, but listened anyway as Darleen reminisced about meeting her father at the skating rink. He'd been three years older and quite the ladies' man, apparently. And when he'd focused his attention on Darleen, she'd fairly swooned.

“I couldn't wait until I was eighteen and could marry him. People throw such a fit nowadays about getting married so young, but look at us. Happily married for thirty-one years.”

She seemed to have forgotten that her husband had stepped out on her. Conceived a child out of wedlock.
Her.

“He'd be so proud of you. Despite your troubles at the shelter, you seem to be doing quite well.” Her eyes darted around the room. “You have a lovely house in a nice neighborhood, and a good job.”

She hated to admit it was only a rental. “I'm very blessed.” She toyed with the ring hanging around her neck.

Darleen sucked in a breath as her eyes caught on the ring, exhaling on one word. “Oh! Your father's ring. I thought it was gone forever.” Her eyes teared up, and she blinked fast. She reached out and touched it as if it were a precious gemstone. “I was afraid I'd lost it in the move. I was just devastated at the time and
not thinking straight. When I realized it was missing, I was just sick about it.”

A prickle of guilt stabbed Paige at the longing in Darleen's face. She hadn't known the ring meant so much to her. But it meant a lot to Paige as well. She cradled the ring protectively and stuffed the guilt down deep inside as she leaned forward. “Can I get you more coffee, Mom?”

Riley pushed out from his desk and stretched his legs. They were tight from sitting too long, and his stub ached. The co-op was hopping today. Orders coming in, going out. Paperwork and spreadsheets danced in his head.

RJ Rawlings, a retired lobsterman, was busy in the tank room, taking in lobsters fresh off the boats and packing up orders. The fishermen came into the lobby after dropping off their catches. They huddled around the coffee machine, swapping stories.

Riley remembered those days well, but he was too busy to join in. Wouldn't matter anyway. He didn't want to hear about the size of their catches or their pot malfunctions or this week's territory infringements.

The door opened, the bell jangling. Dylan stepped inside, looking windblown. He seemed taller than usual from Riley's seated position. His sleeveless shirt revealed tanned skin and rippling muscles.

His own muscles were going to wither away if he didn't find the time to lift weights soon. Just the upkeep on his legs took so much time he'd skimped lately on his upper body, and it was starting to show. The desk job wasn't helping.

“Hey, Riley,” Dylan said. “How you doing?”

“Just getting ready to head out of here.”

“Well, I won't keep you. Just dropped off my catch and stopped in for the coffee. It's noticeably better since you've been around.” He filled a Styrofoam cup.

“I'd had enough of that sludge RJ called coffee. Good day?” Politeness demanded he ask.

“Excellent. We're off to a good month.”

“That's what I hear.”

Dylan headed for the door. “Well, I've got to run. See you later.”

The clock had finally struck five, so Riley stood and sent Paige a text, asking how the meeting with Darleen had gone. He'd been worried about her all afternoon, dying to know how she was getting on with her stepmom. He hoped the woman had been kind. Paige had such a soft heart, and she'd always been desperate for the woman's approval. He hated that he couldn't be there to act as a shield.

His phone chimed with an incoming text.

It's going great. Mom's still here. Can you pick up food on the way over?

Mom?

His eyes faltered on the word. Call him cynical, but the woman had abandoned Paige six years ago, and now she was suddenly interested in her life?

He called in an order to Frumpy Joe's and went to pick it up, twiddling his thumbs as he sat at the counter waiting. He tried to make conversation with Charlotte Dupree, but his mind was on Paige. Now that he knew Darleen was still there, he couldn't get to the house fast enough. When Charlotte finally handed over the order, he was on his way.

Minutes later he pulled his motorcycle into Paige's driveway, parking beside an older model beige Cavalier. Its pinstriping had peeled in spots, and rust laced the panel behind the rear wheel well. It wasn't what he'd expected of Darleen Warren.

At the kitchen door he gave a quick tap and opened it up. “I'm here,” he called, setting the bags on the counter and turning toward the living room doorway. He'd taken only two steps when he heard a raised voice.

“You always were a selfish girl. I should've known you hadn't changed.”

He quickened his pace. “Hey,” he said as he busted through the door. He found the pair facing off on the other side of the room. “What's going on?”

Before his words were out, Darleen leaped toward Paige. “It should've been mine!”

Riley sprang forward as the woman reached toward her. His prosthetic foot caught on the rug, and he fought for balance. His leg hit the coffee table, and his prosthesis clattered away as his body hit the ground.

Darleen darted for the door.

From the floor he reached out to stop her, but she skirted him. He scrambled toward her like a broken crab, but she beat him out the door.

He pounded the floor. “Stupid leg!” Sitting upright, his eyes flitted to Paige.

She was clutching her throat, staring after her stepmom, her face as white as death.

“What happened?” he asked.

She turned toward him, and her eyes sharpened on him as if she just realized he'd fallen. She dashed forward. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” He scuttled toward his prosthesis, his blood pumping so quickly his lungs could hardly keep up. “What did she do?”

“She—she took my necklace. But it's fine. I'm fine.”

His eyes slid down to the empty spot where her fingers clutched at her chest. “Your dad's ring?” His teeth clenched, he donned his leg in record time and scrambled to his feet.

“Don't, Riley.” She tried to grab his arm and missed. “It's okay.”

But he was already out the door, heat flushing through his body, sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

He exited in time to see Darleen's car peeling out of the drive, gravel flying. The smell of exhaust filled the air.

He whipped his phone from his pocket.

“Who are you calling?” Paige stopped at his side.

“Sheriff Colton.”

She grabbed his hand. “Don't. Please, Riley, don't.”

His fingers froze on the panel, his eyes finding hers. Twin pools of vulnerability stared back. Frown lines puckered between her brows, and a muscle under her eye twitched. But he couldn't ignore the plea he saw in her eyes, the desperation in her tone.