More to Give (10 page)

“Except me.”

“A confidence I’m starting to regret now,” Callie said, rising to her feet. “Come on,” she said, offering Henri a hand. “We might as well get this over with. One more meal, then she’s gone in the morning.”

“Then I’m stuck with her in a confined space,” Henri added. “Which is why you’re once again buying the drinks.”

“Too bad the restaurant is too far away for us to walk,” Callie lamented. “I wouldn’t mind getting liquored up myself.”

Callie had never been so happy to be alone. Though Cecil was still with her, he wasn’t going to tell Callie that her ass was getting too big or that she was going to die childless with a shriveled-up womb, denying him the rightful grandparrots he deserved.

At least she hoped a few days with her mother hadn’t been long enough for him to pick up these particular lines. Though she loved her parrot dearly, a window might get accidentally left open if her feathered friend started talking that much like her mother.

After watching the taillights of Henri’s truck fade into the distance, Callie poured herself a cup of tea, dragged a blanket out to the deck, and watched the waves pound the sand for a good hour. Watching the seagulls diving at the water or hovering on the wind, wings spread wide and strong, she breathed in the salt air and felt a vivid sense of home.

As if this was where Callie was meant to be. Which she was, for at least the next three months. Longer if Sam would keep her. Once she’d turned the inn around, and in record time, surely he’d ask her to stay.

Best to play it by ear. Something she’d learned in therapy was to take life one day at a time. And that was exactly what Callie was thinking about as she pulled into the parking lot in front of Sweet Opal’s Bakery and Confections.

The building looked like an old, two-story house that had been converted into a storefront. A long, narrow porch ran across the front, with a door to the right and two Adirondack chairs on the left. An elderly couple occupied the chairs, the woman eating what looked like an éclair and the man some kind of pie.

Stepping onto the porch, she smiled at the woman, who offered up a salute with her treat. Callie assumed they were late-season tourists, since the man wore sunscreen on his nose and a camera rested on his large stomach, as if ready to catch a memory for the folks back home.

Entering the shop, Callie took in the large display case filled with an endless array of treats. Everything looked decadent and able to put ten pounds on her hips by Christmas.

“Callie,” a voice yelled from her left. “Down here.” Will Parsons waved from a table in the corner that she was sharing with a pretty redhead and a gorgeous brunette. It was official: Anchor Island was a refuge for incredibly beautiful people.

CHAPTER 10

H
i there,” she said, stepping up to the table.

“Glad you could make it,” Will said with a smile. “This is Beth Dempsey,” she offered, motioning toward the redhead. Then she nodded toward the brunette. “And the little tugboat in the corner is Sid Navarro. The one I warned you about.”

Sid was a woman?

“What do you mean, you fucking warned her about me?”

With brows up, Will didn’t give her friend so much as a glance. “And now you know what I meant. Guys, this is Calliope Henderson.”

“Please,” she said, “call me Callie.”

“That’s right,” Will said. “Callie.” Scooting over to the chair against the window, she tapped the one she’d vacated. “Have a seat.”

Callie hesitated. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

“Of course not,” the one named Beth said. “Will has been telling us that you’re an old friend of Sam’s. He’s a bit of an enigma around here, so we find this fact highly intriguing.”

If this meeting was to coax facts about Sam’s past out of her, Callie would not be sticking around. “I wouldn’t say old friends. We were more acquaintances.”

Which was true. She’d been best friends with Meredith and therefore acquainted with Sam. But they didn’t know each other that well. At least, they hadn’t before that last night.

“We aren’t going to grill you,” Will said, offering her the chair once again. “We’re discussing Beth’s baby shower.”

The redhead sat back with a smile, and Callie noticed her enlarged belly for the first time. “Oh, wow. Congratulations. Now I
know
I’m intruding.”

“Nonsense,” Beth said. “The more the merrier. Really.”

“If you’re sure.” Callie settled into the red, retro-style seat and noticed each woman had a dessert in front of her. “Those look good.”

“Opal is the best,” Sid said. “She can bake anything. What’s your favorite? Prego here will eat anything.” She pointed a thumb in her friend’s direction.

Beth looked slightly offended, then shrugged. “That’s true right now. Bugger isn’t choosy.”

“Bugger?” Callie asked.

“That’s what they call the munchkin,” Sid answered. “The selfish asses won’t find out if it’s a boy or a girl so the rest of us can know what the hell to buy.”

“For the umpteenth time, we want to be surprised!”

“That doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to stay in the dark,” Sid argued, sliding a fork into the chocolate cupcake in front of her.

“Yes,” Beth said. “It actually does.”

Sid huffed and Beth sighed and Callie wondered if these women were really friends.

“Besides,” Beth said, cutting what looked to be a slice of carrot cake, “it’s not as if you’re going to buy anything other than tool toys, regardless of what gender it is.”

This time Sid snorted. “That’s true.” The women laughed, and Callie realized this was more than friendship. Though she was an only child, she recognized what she and Henri had. These women were more like family.

Now she really felt like an outsider.

“We’ve already settled on yellow and green for the party colors,” Will said, bringing Callie up to speed. “For obvious reasons. And we’re having the shower at the Anchor Inn. We’d use Dempsey’s, but Beth doesn’t like the idea of having a baby shower in a bar.”

“As a woman raised in the South,” Callie said, “I thank you. That always bothered me, too.”

“You see?” Beth said, glancing between her dark-haired friends. “She agrees with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Callie said. “I don’t want to step on toes.”

“Stomp away.” Will slid her fork into a slice of rhubarb pie. “You won’t hurt our feelings. She’s the mom and what she says goes.”

Sid rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a shit where we have it.”

Callie almost wished she could introduce this pint-size profanity machine to her mother for the shock value alone. The conniption would be epic.

Before Callie could ask what else they needed to work out, a short woman with gray hair, round cheeks, and a friendly smile stepped up to the table. “Hey there, darling. You must be the new gal fixing up the Sunset Harbor. Rosemary said you were pretty as a button, and she was right.”

“Rosemary said that?” Callie asked, struggling to imagine the preservation patron saying quite those words.

The older woman waved a hand in the air. “Not exactly, but that’s what she meant. I’m Opal,” she said, wiping her hand on her apron. “Tell me your favorite dessert ever, and I bet I have it.”

Callie smiled. “You probably don’t.”

Opal looked as if she’d been insulted, and the ladies at the table exchanged surprised glances.

“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just that my favorite dessert is an English dish, and I rarely find anyone in America who makes it.”

Well, this was going well. She’d managed to offend a sweet old lady and look like a pretentious ass to the women who were befriending her. Why couldn’t she have asked for apple pie?

Opal put a hand on her hip. “What’s it called?” she asked, the friendly smile no longer present.

“Eton Mess,” Callie replied, longing to disappear under the table.

With pursed lips, Opal seemed to be searching her memory banks. Then she said, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared behind the counter.

Silence reigned until Callie said, “I should have asked for pie. I didn’t mean to offend her.”

Sid laughed. “Are you kidding? You made her day.”

“I what?”

“You gave her a challenge.” Sid stabbed a piece of cupcake with her fork. “No one has stumped Opal yet. Kinzie—that’s her granddaughter—says Opal prides herself on knowing every dessert out there. You’ll have your mess thing in no time.”

“Oh,” Callie said, not sure how to respond. She would love to have the dessert, since she hadn’t been to England in nearly ten years, but she didn’t want to put anyone out. “It really isn’t that complicated. I didn’t mean to make any trouble.”

“Don’t be silly,” Will said, sharing a look with her friends that Callie couldn’t interpret. “Now that we’ve all settled into domestic bliss, so to speak, things have gotten boring. We could use a little trouble around here.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “Stir shit up.”

Callie felt the need to be honest. “I’m not really the shit-stirring type.”

Beth tapped a fingernail on her glass of milk. “A gorgeous blonde harboring secrets about the island’s most eligible bachelor?” A tapered brow danced over sparkling green eyes. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Ms. Henderson. You could stir all sorts of shit.”

And they were back to Sam again. “I’m not harboring anything,” she said, knowing it for a lie as soon as the words were out. “Sam is my boss, and if he wants anyone to know about his past, he’ll have to be the one to share.” Knowing the more folks believed there was some deep, dark secret—which, in all honesty, there wasn’t—the more they’d push for answers, Callie offered one caveat.

“I
can
say that whatever folks around here are imagining, it’s probably nowhere near the truth. He’s a nice guy who runs hotels.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing sinister to tell. No secret identity. No big bad lurking anywhere.” With a laugh, she added, “That stuff only happens in the movies.”

No one cracked a smile as Will murmured, “Not always.”

“I’m sorry?” Callie asked, but Opal returned to the table before Will could explain.

Opal set a glass bowl in front of Callie. “There you go,” she said. “I even tossed in a dash of port like the website said.”

Everyone at the table grew silent, staring at the bowl as if it might explode.

“No fucking way,” Sid said in hushed tones.

“Well?” Opal snapped. “Try it.”

The concoction looked accurate, with the whipped cream and strawberries mixed together, and even a sliced strawberry on top. Callie removed the spoon stuck in the side and braced herself before sliding a bite between her lips.

And then her taste buds did explode. “Oh my God,” she said around the sweetness in her mouth. “You did it.”

The cheerful baker returned, clapping her hands in excitement. “I’ve been trying to think of something new I could add to the menu.” Opal hugged Callie’s shoulders. “Now I have it. Thank you, darling. You’ve got a free dessert here anytime you want it.”

“Hey,” Sid said, “you don’t give me free desserts.”

“Shush,” Opal said, waving a hand at Sid. “What’s your name, honey child?” she asked Callie.

“This is Calliope Henderson, Opal,” Will answered for her. “But she goes by Callie.”

“Calliope’s Eton Mess,” Opal said. “That’s how it’ll appear on the menu.”

“What the hell?” Sid said. “What makes her so special? How come you don’t name shit after us?”

Opal turned to Sid. “You eat a chocolate cupcake with chocolate buttercream, Sidney Ann. What exactly is unique about that?”

Sidney Ann sounded much too girlie for the dark-haired woman with the spicy tongue, who grew even prettier when she blushed. Though “pretty” wasn’t the right word. “Sultry,” maybe. And then Callie realized Sid wasn’t wearing any makeup. Those long, dark lashes were natural. Since Callie’s were practically transparent without mascara, she fought the stab of jealousy.

Then Sid stood up and charged around Beth to approach Opal. Despite the baggy T-shirt and loose-fitting cargo pants, Callie could see Sid’s body looked amazing. What the hell did they put in the water on this island?

Wait. Hadn’t Beth described Callie as a gorgeous blonde only moments ago? Maybe the water perfected their bodies while muddling their minds.

“If you loved me,” Sid was saying to Opal, “you’d name something after me.”

When had this become a competition? Opal could call the thing Sidney’s Eton Mess if it meant that much to her.

Opal slammed both hands onto her ample hips. “How about Sidney Ann’s Shit Cake?”

After several seconds of a tense stare-down, everyone burst out laughing. Everyone except Callie, who was beginning to question their sanity.

“Sorry,” Beth said, noticing Callie’s confusion. “We’re kind of a family around here.”

“We put the ‘fun’ in ‘dysfunctional,’ ” Will added, still laughing. “Opal, you have to make Sidney Ann’s Shit Cakes for Beth’s shower. And throw in some of Calliope’s Mess, too.”

“Is it as good as it looks?” Beth asked, licking her lips.

Callie pushed the bowl across the table. “It is. Try some.”

Beth slipped a bite into her mouth, then closed her eyes as her head dropped back, accompanied by a moan of ecstasy.

“That good, huh?” Will asked. “Let me try.” After doing so, Will had a reaction similar to Beth’s.

Feeling as if she’d shown them all a new invention, Callie gave herself a mental pat on the back. Though it was Opal who deserved the credit.

“You’re a wonder, Miss Opal,” she said, smiling up at the older woman, who was currently hugging Sid against her side.

“I’ve been called worse,” she responded, giving Callie a wink.

As Will and Beth took turns with the Eton Mess, Sid said, “You’re alright, Blondie.”

Assuming this to be some kind of high praise from the rough-edged woman, Callie nodded. “Thank you, Sid. I’m glad you think so.”

Regardless of the number of times Sam had told himself that he would not be the overbearing boss who checked in constantly, he arrived at the Sunset Harbor Inn early Monday morning to observe, and maybe supervise, the kickoff of the project. He told himself that Callie might need his input when dealing with the natives.

They could be an interesting group and preferred their own methods, which were often somewhat . . . unconventional.

Proven by the three men hanging from the roof as Sam pulled up.

Callie stood several feet in front of the inn, staring at the men dangling along the facade.

“What exactly are they doing?” he asked, startling her. “Sorry—I thought you heard me walk up.”

“No,” she said. “I’m too busy worrying about the possibility of a broken neck on our first day.” Turning to face him, she asked, “Isn’t there a safer way to do this?”

Nodding, Sam said, “I’m sure there is. Did you suggest they take another approach?”

Callie used her hand to block the glare of the sun off the hotel windows. “Of course I did. But Bernie says with the porch in the way, they can’t run scaffolding along the center. He says this approach is perfectly safe.” One of the danglers swung several feet to the left, and Callie let out a gasp. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

As they walked toward the entrance, two smaller crews were assembling scaffolding against each of the far ends. For the first time, Sam noticed the large number of people milling about.

“Where did you find all of these workers?”

“Bernie brought them,” Callie answered. “I had to convince him that it wasn’t necessary to start on Sunday. The last thing I wanted was the entire island resenting this project because they had to begin work on a weekend.”

Smart move on her part. Sam wasn’t sure he’d have thought of it. Knowing how quickly they needed the job completed and the intense amount of work there was to do, he likely would have taken the one-day head start.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he said, unwilling to admit his own shortsightedness.

Callie pulled her jacket tight against the chill air coming off the water. “You suppose?”