Unraveled (17 page)

“Of course. Why is it your favorite?”

“I had a dream last night that my daughter Jane came back and nobody cared. Wouldn’t that be awful?” Granny lifted her eyes from the Bible and stared at Lauren. The sorrow lingering there was like a fist in Lauren’s gut. She sucked in a breath.
She already forgot what happened yesterday?

“Granny, I—”

“I love the part where the father sees his son coming from far off.” Granny kept talking as if she didn’t hear Lauren. She turned and stared out the window. “I wonder what that felt like?”

Lauren bit the inside of her cheek. “Do you want to see Jane, Granny?’

Granny turned back to face Lauren and slowly nodded her head. “Yes, I believe I do.”

Lauren cleared her throat and stared at the floor. “Here’s the thing I always wondered. What if the prodigal son wasn’t sorry for what he’d done? That part of the story always bothered me a little bit.” Obviously Jane didn’t show a whole lot of remorse. She definitely wasn’t clothed in humility or asking forgiveness.

Granny shifted in her bed, cradling her casted arm close to her body. “I suppose that would be a much different story, wouldn’t it?” She tipped her head back against the pillows and looked at the ceiling. A few moments later, her eyelids fluttered closed.

Lauren sighed and sank back in the chair. She’d come to spend a few quiet moments with Granny and now she felt more conflicted than when she arrived. Maybe Jane shouldn’t be allowed to visit Granny at all. On the other hand, if her dementia was so advanced she didn’t recognize Jane then why did it matter? Lauren couldn’t even be sure Granny knew who she was. She had yet to greet her by anything other than Mallory.

Blake stepped out of his rain gear and threw it in the back of the truck. A horn honked and he waved as their clients pulled away in a rented SUV. They were a lot of fun to ride with. No complaining, just happy to be on an adventure together. Those were the best kind of customers. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a power bar and sat on the tailgate. Jeremy sidled over, the top of his wet suit peeled down to his waist. He grinned and popped the top open on a can of Red Bull.

“Great run today, man.”

Blake nodded. “Wasn’t bad.”

Jeremy took a bite of a Snickers bar and furrowed his brow. “What’s eating you? Those rapids were epic.”

“Tired, I guess.”

“Why don’t you go home and take it easy. We’ve got a big week ahead. The festival’s tomorrow and then you need to be well-rested for Cove to Creek.”

Blake groaned. “I don’t think I can make it.”

Jeremy rapped his knuckles on Blake’s head. “Hello? This whole thing was your idea. You can’t bail on me now.”

“You won’t even miss me. It’s just a race.”

“Not cool, man. We’re in this together. Besides, we need you and Lauren so we can win. You can’t skip the race. Where’s the fun in that?”

His heart sank. “Lauren?”

Jeremy tipped his head back and slurped the rest of the energy drink from the can. “Yeah, didn’t I tell you she’s taking Shannon’s place?”

“No,” Blake growled.

Jeremy shrugged. “Must have forgot.” He stood up and clapped a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Lighten up, dude. It’s gonna be a good time. You go on home, I’ll finish up here.”

“Deal.” Blake watched the river gurgle and churn against the bank, his offer to partner with the Inn echoing in his head. After last night, that was going to be awkward at best. He’d have to delegate that one to Mom and Megan. Now the race— that was one of his favorite events. He’d definitely missed not being a part of it when he lived in Tyonek. But spending so much time in close proximity to Lauren wasn’t going to be easy. She didn’t want to be with him. He slid off the tailgate and then tossed the Gatorade bottle in the back of the truck. Maybe it was time to move on.

Lauren jogged up the hill towards the Inn, a light rain falling as she willed her legs to carry her home. Most running experts advised a short, easy run the day before a race. But she wasn’t most people. Granny’s health problems, Jane’s arrival and the job in Portland—not to mention the memory of Blake’s kiss—all swirled into a messy cocktail that kept her from sleeping well. She’d finally given up and climbed out of bed, eager to feel the pavement under her feet.

Chest heaving, she slowed to a walk and circled Matt and Angela’s minivan a few times to cool down. They were up early. Maybe Mom was watching the little girls today. That could be a problem. There was so much to do if they were going to pull off a booth at the festival. She’d tried to catch Blake at the shop last night, but Jeremy said he’d sent Blake home to rest up. Whatever. She couldn’t put this project together by herself. Maybe she was expecting too much given all that was going on right now. Climbing the steps, she reached for the doorknob but someone beat her to it. The door opened to reveal Matt standing on the other side.

“Good morning, sis,” Matt said. “Did you have a nice run?”

“It was okay. What are you up to?”

“Come in and see for yourself.” He winked and stepped aside.

Angela waved from the couch, where she was busy feeding Gavin. Lauren waved back and followed Matt into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, good. You’re back. Hand her the coffee, Matthew.” Mom sat at the kitchen table, a proud smile on her face.

Matt lifted a paper cup from a cardboard tray on the counter. The Copper Kettle’s logo was stamped on the outside and two pink straws protruded from the black plastic lid. “For you,” Matt said, bowing slightly as he passed her the coffee.

Lauren cupped her chilled hands around the drink. “Wow. Thanks. What’s this about?” She tipped her head toward the table, which held several bags of Hershey’s kisses, a giant roll of red tickets, and a very large empty bowl. The little girls were in their chairs, munching on cheerios, while Joshua sat at the counter, laboring over a coloring book.

“Dad and I thought your suggestion for the giveaway at the festival was exactly what we needed.” Mom reached for the scissors and a bag of chocolate. “It turns out Sandy Tully is in charge of setting up the booths. When I called her, she said Blake had already given her the details but hadn’t had a chance to follow through. I know he’s extremely busy right now.”

Lauren sipped her coffee and avoided Mom’s curious gaze. Busy. Of course he’d use his work as an excuse to avoid her. After the way she’d treated him, why wouldn’t he?

Angela came into the kitchen, Gavin pressed against her shoulder and a smile on her face. With her free hand, she passed a gift bag to Lauren. “A little something for you.”

Lauren took the bag and peeked inside. A water bottle, trail mix, Gatorade and a new pair of socks were all tucked inside. “Oh, you guys.” Lauren splayed her hand across her chest. “You didn’t have to do this. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s the least we could do, after all you’ve done for us,” Mom said.

“Stop. It was nothing.” Lauren pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

“Don’t be silly,” Mom said. “We couldn’t have survived all this craziness without you.”

“If you aren’t careful, you’ll earn yourself a full-time position as innkeeper.” Matt winked and slipped an arm around Angela’s shoulders.

Lauren’s last sip of coffee lodged in her throat and she leaned forward, sputtering. Angela came alongside and whacked her on the back. Lauren continued to cough, the warm liquid stinging her throat. What could she say to that?

“Well.” Matthew pulled up a stool next to Joshua. “I guess we know how you feel about that idea.”

Lauren coughed one last time and looked around at the expectant stares. The concern evident in Mom’s eyes did not go unnoticed. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you I have an interview in Portland next Friday.”

“Oh, no.” Mom dropped the bag of chocolate, spilling silver-wrapped kisses onto the floor around her chair.

Angela brought her a glass of ice water. “What kind of an interview?”

“Thanks.” Lauren took a long drink, the cool water soothing her throat but doing little to ease the ache in her chest. Maybe this wasn’t good timing, after all. “It’s with a family practice in a suburb of Portland. They need a medical assistant and my old boss recommended me.”

“Have you thought about looking for something around here?” Mom poured the chocolates into the bowl.

Lauren winced. “I never said I was staying. My original plan was only a week, remember?”

“Plans have a way of changing,” Matt said.

Lauren thought about the stack of
Modern Bride
magazines on the floor next to her bed back in Portland. Or the proliferation of wedding-themed pins on her Pinterest board. Yes, plans definitely had a way of changing.

“I hate to wish for things to go poorly for you, but I was really looking forward to the hot chocolate bar and the S’mores you talked about,” Angela said.

Lauren smiled. “Thanks, Ange.” Maybe things were thawing between them and there was hope for a relationship after all.

“Well. No sense crying over spilled milk. We’ve got a festival booth to set up.” Mom stood and gathered her supplies. “Who’s with me?”

Blake slid the folding chair off the stack and arranged it next to the others behind the long table. This was a task he could handle. Mindless and repetitive. More importantly, he could work in the opposite direction of Lauren and her mother, who were busy putting the finishing touches on their booth. He’d managed a casual wave when they first arrived, then volunteered to help some of the older ladies set up for their quilt display. While his shoulder protested about the extra activity, he was determined to remain occupied and away from Lauren.

“Yoohoo, Blake?” Tisha interrupted his thoughts. “Can you take a look at this?” She gestured over her shoulder toward the booth. His mother, Lauren and Mrs. Carter stood in front of their table, brows furrowed as they pointed and fussed.

He groaned inwardly. “I’m sure it’s fine. Whatever you ladies think is best.”

“Please? Your opinion counts, too.” She touched his arm, her eyelashes flitting rapidly against her cheek.

Blake glanced at her hand and set down the last folding chair. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He took his time, weaving through the people who’d gathered to get ready for the festival. If he waited long enough, maybe Tisha would forget she’d asked. He stopped near Jess, who stood in a huddle of high school boys, obviously engrossed in delegating responsibilities. After Jess finished talking, they all piled in and gave a hearty cheer that sounded an awful lot like, “Hoosegow!”

“Oh, no.” Blake watched them disperse, jawing with one another as they headed down the street. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced at Jess. “What’s that all about?”

Jess flashed a mischievous smile. “We’re bringing the hoosegow back.”

“Really? I thought that went the way of the VHS tape and other relics from the 90’s.”

“Very funny. It’s part of our history, man. We gotta do it.”

Blake shook his head. “I don’t know. I heard Shannon’s grandmother threw such a fit the last time … I didn’t think that thing would ever see the light of day again.”

“Good thing she’s still on that cruise, isn’t it?” Jess clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax, we’re here to have a fun.”

A shrill whistle interrupted their conversation. Blake turned toward the booths and saw Tisha waving him over. He sighed. “I guess I’d better see what the ladies are up to.”

Lauren had her back to him, adjusting some red, white and blue bunting they’d hung across the front of the table. She wore that same yellow dress—the one she’d worn her first day back in town—and dang if it didn’t have the same effect the second time around. He averted his eyes from admiring her shapely calves peeking out from under her skirt and intentionally stood by Mrs. Carter.

“Good morning, ladies. How are things?”

Mrs. Carter balanced a framed photograph against a tall vase of flowers and stepped back. “There you are. What do you think?”

Blake surveyed all they’d done: fresh flowers, a bowl of chocolates and—that photograph—he felt his mouth drop open. “Where did you get this?” He leaned down for a closer look. A young couple in a double-kayak paddled through the water, dwarfed by a massive blue iceberg in the background. Blake swallowed hard and glanced at Lauren. “That’s us. Our last trip to Townsend before I left for college.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks. “It was still hanging on the wall in my old room. Mom said we could borrow it.” She tipped her head toward the table. “Do you like what we’ve done with the place?”

Blindsided by the memories that photograph provoked, Blake struggled to shift back to the present. Did she still think about that trip? Huddled around the camp fire long after their families had crawled into their tents, he’d slipped his class ring on her finger and asked her to wait for him …

“Is it the flowers?” Mrs. Carter pointed to the vase. “If it’s too much, we can move them. Shannon brought those by, I thought that was sweet.”

Blake shook his head to clear away the memories. “No, no. Everything’s great. The flowers are fine. Thanks for doing this.”

“No, thank you. Mike and I appreciate everything you and Lauren have done. The Inn wouldn’t have survived this season without you.”

Blake waved a dismissive hand. “Happy to help. We’ve got to stick together, right?” He tried to catch Lauren’s eye, but she was engrossed in conversation with a group of tourists who’d strolled up to their booth. He watched her for a minute, the pink bow of her lips turning into a persuasive smile when they hesitated to buy a raffle ticket. Someone cracked a joke and the sound of her laughter made his pulse speed up. He bit his lip. Resistance was futile where she was concerned.

“C’mon.” Tisha linked her arm through his. “I need a partner for the three-legged race.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She’d probably caught him staring at Lauren and figured he’d needed a diversion. You know what? She was right. “I haven’t done a three-legged race in ages. Let’s see if I’ve still got it.”

“You two have fun. We’ve got this covered,” Mrs. Carter said.

Lauren sagged in the folding chair and drew a long sip of the Diet Coke Shannon had brought with their lunch. Slipping off her shoe, she rubbed her aching foot. Again, the peep toe wedges were a bad decision. She set down her drink and reached for the bowl of red tickets, twisting it in a circle. She’d stopped counting after Mom sold the two hundredth raffle ticket. Some lucky couple would receive their prize package at the dance tomorrow night.

A cheer went up from the crowd gathered around the main stage. Lauren turned in her seat to see Jeremy pumping his fist in the air, while Blake stood beside him, whipped cream smeared across his jaw. Thoughts of their moments together at the Inn, her own fingers caressing that very jaw—familiar feelings stirred deep within. What if the Sullivan’s hadn’t knocked on the door?
Stop. You. Are. Ridiculous.
While Jeremy basked in the applause, Blake lifted another pie from the table and planted it squarely in Jeremy’s face. The crowd roared with laughter. Lauren shook her head. Boys.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he? Even with whip cream all over his face.”

Lauren whipped back around to find Shannon standing next to her, a satisfied smile stretching from ear to ear. “Shannon. You sure know how to sneak up on a girl.”

“If you weren’t so busy admiring the scenery, you would’ve heard me coming, right?”

Lauren squirmed under Shannon’s knowing gaze. “I wasn’t admiring anything.”

“Of course not. I’m sure you—”

A loud ragtime piano tune drowned out their conversation. “What in the world?” Lauren stood up and craned her neck to see what was going on. The crowd parted to allow a black pick-up truck towing a mobile jail to roll down Main Street. Women in costumes reminiscent of those once worn by Emerald Cove’s many saloon girls posed in the bed of the truck. At least four more ladies were inside the trailer, waving through the metal bars and blowing kisses.