Seeing Red (5 page)

O
cean Beach really hadn’t changed much, at least not to Summer’s eyes. It still had a bohemian feel to it with its complex mix of poor college students, wanderlust-stricken surfers, and derelicts living on the streets, as well as a whole new socio-group: the young, wealthy urbanites.

The sand was still hot, the water a frothy blue as it pounded the shore. The air smelled like salt and fast food. Once upon a time, this had been home, but now Summer felt like one of the tourists she’d always resented.

After she’d left all those years ago, her mother had dealt with her grief by selling their house a few blocks inland and buying a tiny condo downtown. She’d filled it with her handpicked collectibles, healing supplies, and homemade teas, but to Summer the place seemed too far from the water, too small and closed in, and after the first awkward, sleepless night, she’d made an excuse about needing to be on the beach and had gone to one of her Aunt Tina’s properties, a small cottage on the bluffs overlooking the ocean.

The decision seemed to disturb Camille, and Summer had spent the past few days trying to make up for it. They’d gone to breakfast each day, where Summer had tried to draw her mom out, but all efforts had hit a solid brick wall. Summer could just leave it alone as she tended to do with all things awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to. Damn it, she was here, she wanted to fit in, wanted to be a part of the family. Wanted to be close again.

On the fourth morning, Summer once again got into her VW Bug and took I-5 toward the bay to meet her mom. Shaped like a hook and protected by the peninsula of Coronado, the San Diego Bay formed a natural deepwater harbor around which the second largest city in California had grown. Summer headed directly into the heart of it, into the famous Gaslamp Quarter, once notorious for its nefarious activities such as prostitution, gambling, and drinking. Years ago the entire area had been given a welcomed revival. Historical buildings had all been renovated in grand Victorian style, carved into the original architecture, leaving a wealth of hotels, shops, galleries, and trendy clubs and restaurants, all illuminated by the prominent, graceful gas lamps lining the pavements.

Determined, Summer pulled into one such Victorian, where Creative Interiors was housed, and parked in the lot behind it.

Camille was just getting out of her car, with a sleeping Socks in her arms. Her mom would be forty-seven this year, but if Summer hadn’t known, she’d have guessed no more than thirty-five. The woman simply never aged. Lean and toned from her morning jogs, she wore clothing extremely well, including the vintage bohemian-style dress she had on right now. She had porcelain skin, long wavy hair the color of roasted chestnuts, and a way of talking that made you listen. “Morning,” she said with a welcoming smile. “How are you?”

Summer returned the smile. “Good.”

“So what’s up? I need to open the store.”

“I know.” Tread carefully here. “Mom, I’ve been thinking. The insurance paperwork isn’t that difficult, and I could really use something else to do while I’m here.” Such as get close to you again. “How about a job?”

Camille stared at her as if she’d suggested getting a third eye. “Why?”

“Well I’m going to be here a while, so—”

“But honey,
why
will you be here a while?”

Summer blinked. “Because I told you I would.”

“I don’t expect you to drop everything for me.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’ve never stayed more than a few days.” Camille sounded baffled.

“I know,” Summer said quietly. “But I want to do this. For you.” Just as she wanted,
needed,
to reforge a bond that had never been the same since her father’s death.

Camille made a noncommittal sound as she nuzzled the cat and then began walking. Her crystal earrings made a tinkleing sound that floated on the air.

Summer followed. “I really do want to help,” she said softly, longing to see a real smile cross her mom’s lips. “You’re opening a second shop this week, right? And it’s a big deal. I’m sure everyone’s crazed, worrying about the loss of stock from the warehouse fire, and getting the new store ready. Surely you could use an extra set of hands.”

“Hmm.”

That hmm was the sound of Camille thinking, and no one, not even God himself could rush her through a decision. There’d only been one person who’d ever been able to break through that stubbornness, and that had been Tim Abrams.

Other men had tried since Summer’s father had died. Camille had enjoyed them each for a time, and then on some schedule only she had access to, she’d set them free.

Summer admired the spirit but not as it applied to
their
relationship. “Mom, five days ago you called me in the middle of the night in tears.” Clingy. Scared. “You wanted my help. You wanted me here.” And that had meant so much, Summer had dropped everything and rushed here.

And yet she hadn’t seen a hint of that soft, clingy Camille since she’d arrived. “You wanted me here,” she repeated, softly, reaching for her mom’s hand, squeezing the cold fingers. “Now let me do something.”

“You’ve done plenty. You brought Socks back. You went and talked to the fire marshal.”

“Joe.”

“I invited him to our grand opening of Creative Interiors II tomorrow night. He’s been very kind. I’m going to send him a box of my teas. I think he could use some peace and tranquility.”

Summer didn’t want to think about Joe, needing tranquility or otherwise, because thinking about him at all confused her. The memories of her youth were all tied up with memories of him. He’d been her best friend, her rock. Her everything. Granted, their relationship had been decidedly asexual, but she honestly believed that
that’s
what had made it so strong and binding.

But then, like everything else in connection to O.B., she’d let it go. She’d let it all go, and life had gone on without her. Twelve years, gone, like a breath of air, and now Joe was no longer that scruffy kid, but a full grown man who disturbed her in ways she couldn’t really grasp.

No, she didn’t want to think about him fitting into his quiet intensity, having sex on his desk with a beautiful woman who clearly had claimed him as her own.

Did the two of them talk into the wee hours of the morning? Did she say his name softly when he moaned with fear in his sleep from the old nightmares? Did she know he was addicted to Dr Pepper but hated Coke?

Undoubtedly she did, and that made Summer feel like brooding when she had no right to do so.

But the fact was, nothing here was the same. Not Joe, not her mom, nothing.

And actually, she could live with that, she could. She just wanted to find her place. “Mom.”

Camille stopped and sighed, softening on the spot. “Honey, listen. You came when I called you. That means everything to me.”

“And I’m still right here. Ready to be needed some more.”

“But for how long? I mean I just don’t see you staying, Summer. I don’t.”

Why that hurt when it had always been the utter truth, she had no idea. Camille had never complained, or even let on that she’d have liked more than that from Summer. She’d said nothing at all, and in return, Summer had taken that as tacit permission to stay gone.

But now she wondered at all she’d missed. At what her absence had meant to Camille. Maybe her mom thought she didn’t care, that she’d left and had never looked back.

“How long do you really think you’ll stay?” Camille asked.

An honest question. Summer struggled with an honest answer. “For as long as it takes to get this fire thing over with.”

“That could take weeks.”

“That’s okay. I want to do this.”
Please want me to do this.

Camille was quiet for a long moment. “All right, then. Let’s go in and see what we have for you to do.”

Creative Interiors had once been a premiere boat shop. The building had been built in 1926, and remodeled in the fifties when the original owners had sold it off. Directly across the street was another furnishing shop owned by their most fierce competition, Ally’s Treasures. Ally herself was well named, Camille had always claimed, because she was like an alley cat, always sneaking in to see Creative Interiors’s stock, checking out their prices, often returning to her shop to price slash.

But in reality, a little competition hadn’t hurt either store. Uncle Bill had recently repainted the outside of their building a shiny cream with a navy trim. He’d made a colorful hanging sign that read
CREATIVE INTERIORS: FOR FUN BEACH LIVING!

The inside opened to one large showroom with two small alcoves off to each side. In the back were the offices, employee break room, and extra storage. The walls were the color of melted butter, with soft wood trim and a rough texture. Decorated like an expensive yacht, it was filled with furniture, photos, and all sorts of other knickknacks, such as Bill’s handmade ceramic lighthouses and a set of Tim’s old, savored travel books. There were also pretty, soft sofas covered in pillows with throws over the backs of them, with lamps providing lighting, and rugs on the wood floors that were easy to maintain by their employees.

As for the employees, Tina and Camille had kept it mostly in the family. Tina had three children from her first marriage. Chloe, her oldest, worked here, usually with major attitude. Chloe’s younger twin sisters, Diana and Madeline, were high school divas forced to work at the store whenever they were grounded, which was constantly.

Once upon a time, Summer had been close to them but they’d been young children when she’d left. Too much time had passed now, and, for whatever reasons, there was little love lost between the cousins. Actually, Summer knew the exact reason they kept their distance.

They’d felt like she’d abandoned them. And she had.

There were also a few employees who didn’t share the Abrams blood. Stella and Gregg were an easygoing, likeable couple in their thirties. They helped clerk the store and inventory stock. The newest hire was Braden Cahill. The tall, dark, and silent type, he was a twenty-something out-of-towner whom no one knew much about except that he was extremely easy on the eyes and could work a computer.

As Camille, Socks, and Summer let themselves into the store, a long set of working chimes went off. Diana and Madeline, standing at the front counter, lifted their heads in unison.

Camille waved at them, then turned to Summer. “I’m heading to my office. Think about this, okay? And if you really want, I’ll find you something to do.” Then she took Socks and let herself in the back.

Left alone, Summer smiled at her cousins. Diana was tall and lanky, and wore her eye makeup so heavy that Summer always marveled that she could even open her eyes. She wore a peach halter top and matching skirt, a little diamante heart tattoo on her shoulder blade, and a scowl on her glossed mouth. Madeline had the same coltish physique but wore faded hip-hugging jeans, a snug, stretchy light-blue baby T, and next to no makeup.

Before Summer could greet either of them, Tina rushed out from the back. Like the rest of them, she was tall and lean, and though she was in her early forties, she tended to favor items from the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. Today she wore a silky camisole top with a matching skirt and sandals, ribbons laced up her calves. She had four silver hoops on one ear, matching the silver beginning to streak her deep red hair that tumbled in thick waves to her shoulders. She had the sparkling green eyes of a pixie and the smile of a saint as she came close for a warm hug. “Darling Summer,” she said. “It’s about time you showed your pretty face. I thought maybe you’d leave without coming by.”

The reproach was gentle, and easily swallowed. “I’m not leaving yet.”

Tina didn’t comment on that, just hugged her again. “The girls are thrilled.”

Madeline didn’t verbalize any such thing, but then again, Madeline rarely verbalized at all. She just rolled her eyes.

Diana didn’t say a word either, just kept coolly reading her
Cosmo
magazine.

Oh yeah, they were thrilled. “Grounded?” Summer asked them.

Blowing a huge bubble as she kept reading, Diana lifted her middle finger. Madeline actually let loose a small smile and shrugged.

Chloe came out of the back and took over the room with the sheer presence of her personality. She’d been nine when Summer had left. She’d recently turned twenty-one, and in celebration of that happy event had dyed the ends of her blond hair green, matching it with a green lip gloss. According to Camille, Chloe had a habit of changing the color of her hair with the seasons, saying whatever popped into her head, and dumping men before they dumped her, which actually happened to be a family trait in general. At the moment, Chloe was on a summer break from classes, working full time in the shop for lack of a better offer, but as she herself put it, a girl had to eat.

Having been old enough to really remember Summer, Chloe held a bigger grudge from being dumped. She didn’t hug Summer, but she did offer a cool smile filled with trouble. “So. The prodigal daughter finally returns.”

“I was here at Christmas,” Summer reminded her.

“For what, like two minutes?”

“Two days.”

“Ah. So long. Well, I hope you’re here to work.”

“She’s on vacation,” Tina said.

“Hey.
I’m
on vacation, but
I’m
working,” Chloe said.

“Because, darling, you owe me a lot of money.” Tina smiled and fondly patted her daughter’s cheek.

“I’m
not
on vacation,” Summer said, getting tired of explaining that. “I want to work while I’m here. I want to be with all of you.”

Madeline snorted.

Diana laughed.

And Chloe joined them.

“It’s true,” Summer said.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Diana popped another bubble and laid her magazine out for them to see. “Look, my horoscope says it’s a good day to land myself a guy.”

“What does mine say?” Chloe asked, shoving Madeline aside so she could get closer.

“That you’re a born bitch, but since it comes naturally to you, you should embrace it, not fight it.”