Between Us Girls (49 page)

Beau opened Chad's cottage door. “She is a wise woman, your Mildred.”

“That she is.” Chad dropped onto the couch. “You ought to hang out with her more.”

Sam hurried into the kitchen to make coffee.

Beau soon joined her. “Does this happen often?”

“He's been good the past six months or so. He hunkered down, got serious about school, surfed more with some new friends. He even went to summer school.” She filled the carafe with water. “Family dinners. I don't know why he goes.”

“Family is family.”

“I beg to disagree.” She poured the water into the coffeemaker and turned it on.

“Separating yourself from them doesn't heal the wound.”

She faced him, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms. Facing him was not a good idea. How could she be crazy about the guy and never have noticed how she felt? She looked at the floor. “So what does heal it?”

“Granny Mibs would say prayer.”

“Can you put some feet on that?” She risked a peek and saw him smile crookedly. His face was the kindest she had ever seen. It could be a stand-in for all the old Jesus paintings. Jesus with green eyes and reddish hair.

“Miss Samantha, you are a tough cookie.”

“Yes, I am. But it's an honest question.”

“Agreed. No, I can't put feet on prayer or faith or the unseen world. They just are. The key to hitching a ride even on their coattails is to forgive. Forgive ourselves and others. Let it go. Nobody's perfect.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. His down-filled brown vest rustled. “But if my daddy called me an embarrassment, I'd avoid family dinners.”

Her mother came to mind. “My mom basically does the same thing. I avoid even calling her.”

“What do you think about forgiving her?”

Sam began to say
not in this lifetime
, but stopped. Her smart comeback tasted sour. What had she discovered in the Midwest? That ancestors' choices and the situations imposed on them by governments were the warp and woof of her life. She didn't have a say in the past. Only in what lay before her.

“I'm working on it.”

He grinned and creases all but hid his twinkly eyes. “How was your trip?”

“Great. How was yours?”

“Great.” Now he looked down at the floor.

The coffeemaker chugged along.

Sam gave up. It was too late after a long day to figure out how to forgive Beau for just being himself. He was strong, talented, loveable, a gentleman to everyone, and he paid attention to her. News of his girlfriend aside, what was not to like about him?

She redirected the conversation. “What did you do with his stash?”

Beau looked at her. Clearly, his mind was elsewhere.

She pointed her thumb toward the other room, where Chad had probably fallen asleep. “His booze and cigar.”

“There wasn't any stash.”

“He showed up like that? He drove himself home?” Sam felt a surge of anger. Criticizing a son was one thing, but allowing him to drive while intoxicated—

“Mildred.” Chad strode into the kitchen. “No worries.” He spread his arms, all innocence. “This was simply a little ruse.”

“You're sober.”

“You sound disappointed.” He smiled his rakish smile and steered her away from the counter. “Excuse me. The coffee smells good.” He took a mug from the cupboard and filled it.

Sam exhaled. “I can't tell you how
not
disappointed I am. Did your dad—”

“Oh, you know he did.”

“I'm so proud of you.”

He gave her a thumbs-up. “I did enjoy a few puffs, just to get the aroma going for you.”

Beau said, “Am I missing something?”

“Well.” Chad took a sip of coffee. “Yes, old boy, I'd say you are missing something huge. Her name is Sam Whitley. And Sam, your stubbornness has become rather tedious.”

She and Beau stared at him.

“Enough with the clueless expressions. You both know what I'm talking about. You've been dancing around each other for months now.” He set down his cup and made shooing gestures. “Go now. Go make up somewhere else.”

Sam gaped. “You faked this whole thing?”

“You can thank me later. The timing was tricky. Not letting Beau go home, sitting outside in the cold until you eventually decided to come home way past your curfew. What was up with that anyway? Never mind. Shoo.” He took hold of their arms until they moved toward the door.

A moment later Sam stood in the courtyard with Beau as Chad firmly shut his door.

“Sam, I'd invite you down to the coffee shop where it's warm, but it's closed for the night. We really do need to talk. Now.”

She gaped again, this time at Beau, at a loss for words.

“Please, Sam.”

She invited him to her place, probably because of the way he said her name, a gentle singsong that stretched it out into two syllables. As though it was worth the emphasis.

Sam offered coffee and tea. Beau declined and asked if they could sit.

Her armchair all but disappeared behind and beneath him. She curled up on the couch and pulled the throw from its back to wrap herself in. Her teeth chattered.

Beau wrung his hands briefly. “Chad's right. We—I've been dancing around for months. I want to tell you why.”

“Dancing around what exactly?” Sam knew what she had been dancing around.

“You're a tough cookie and a straight shooter.” He stilled his hands and looked at her. “Which I like. A lot. To tell the truth, Miss Samantha, I'm head over heels in love with you.”

Love?
Oookay.
That pushed things up a notch. Her dance was because she liked him and, since her return, because he had a girlfriend. Avoidance was a necessity, not an option.

“I don't want to scare you away. It's just the truth. I'd rather deal in the truth and not dance anymore.”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

“Back home I grew up with a girl named Tallie. We'd always loved each other. We were best friends. Our families were best friends. I proposed when we were ten years old, and then again when we were nineteen. She said yes both times. I considered it like an old-fashioned betrothal. Things were sealed. I figured we'd keep our word to each other, no matter what, no matter how long it took.”

Sam wanted to tell him to shut up and leave, but he'd only return at her another time. He was the type who had to set things right. Steeling herself to hear the inevitable was beyond her abilities. She shivered and pulled the blanket closer.

“Tallie always wanted to go to Hollywood and become an actress. So we went. She worked hard and she made it. Then she made it big.” His eyes seemed to lose focus, as if he went inside a dark place. After a moment, he blinked. “And I didn't belong with her. I stayed for a while, though. She needed help. You probably don't read the tabloids, but they pretty much got her stories right. She'd want me to remind her of her roots, get her straightened out. Jump, Beau. How high, I would ask.”

Sam listened for bitterness in his voice, but did not hear any. He was so…so
Beau
.

“Anyway, this has been going on for years now. She still wears the engagement ring when it suits her. Wore. Not wears.” He focused on Sam's face now, totally present to her. “I went up to see her while you were gone. It was my last trip. I took the ring back.”

Sam cleared her throat. “What if she needs you?”

“Oh, she will. No doubt about that. She's one confused woman. But she's a movie star first. She'll find someone else to cater to her. I'm over feeling responsible for her because of a childhood promise.”

The tension slid from Sam like the syrup down the stack of pancakes she ate in Valley Oaks. Slow and meandering.

“I was foolish, no two ways about it. I guess I never had a reason not to be until I met you. Do you have anything to say?”

She shook her head and smiled.

“Okay.” He looked at her in a way he'd never looked at her before.

Something had slid away from him too.

They were, Sam figured, at the beginning of something that could not yet be put into words.

Eighty-Five

The day after Thanksgiving, Liv stood outside her cottage and observed the courtyard. It was all back in order, thanks to her Casa family, who indulged her whims. They had pitched in without complaint, moving tables and chairs, washing dishes. Samantha and Jasmyn laughed now as they took down the orange Japanese lanterns.

So much joy flowed through Liv that she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Having Jasmyn back made her absolutely giddy. Samantha's blossoming made her want to dance a jig. Was it possible to spontaneously combust?

Movement at the front gate caught her attention. A stranger entered. If Liv were not looking at Jasmyn near the fountain, she would swear the woman was Jasmyn Albright.

Liv went over to witness the reunion she knew was coming.

Yes, she was a busybody with a hint of a mama bear now on alert. If Manda Smith upset Jasmyn, Liv wanted to be close enough to put the kibosh on it.

Manda had phoned the Casa's main line earlier, asking for Jasmyn's number. Liv had grilled her, naturally. The woman explained that she had called the Flying Pig, but that number led nowhere. She remembered Jasmyn had mentioned the Casa de Vida.

Liv held back, not mentioning that she could have gotten Jasmyn's cell number weeks ago when they had met. But no. Manda had wanted nothing to do with her half sister. What had changed?

Liv had asked politely.

Manda explained.

And then Liv explained that Jasmyn was in town.

Now, Jasmyn spotted her half sister and stared in disbelief. “Manda!”

“Hi.” She shrugged a shoulder, hesitant as all get out. Not the confident girl Jasmyn had described.

“Hi. Uh, this is Liv and Sam.”

Hellos were exchanged.

Samantha seemed to tense. Maybe she had some mama bear in her too.

Manda was still at a loss for words.

Jasmyn, the vocal fire hydrant, filled in. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn't. Liv told me when I called to ask for your number. I asked her not to tell you. I-I didn't want to scare you away before we talked, face-to-face.” She hesitated, eyeing each of them. “Do you mind if I talk in front of your friends?”

“They're family.”

Liv truly thought her heart would burst.

“Okay.” Manda took a deep breath and released it. “I told my mom yesterday. It was Thanksgiving and I-I couldn't help it. I can't keep secrets from her, and the thing is…I'm so thankful for you, for my sister.”

Earlier, when Manda had said those words to Liv, Liv's heart ached for the girl's mother. How devastating for a widow to hear such a thing. But Manda said that hurtful as the news was, it only confirmed her mom's suspicions. She had learned to forgive her husband years before and would continue to do so. She was, Manda said, a generous woman who refused to be bitter.

As Manda spoke now, Jasmyn's eyes grew wider, but evidently the fire hydrant had shut down.

“Jasmyn, I'm sorry. I lied to you about not wanting a sister. I've
always
wanted a sister. I hope I can be yours.”

Jasmyn grinned. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“And,” Manda said, wiping at her own tears, “you have a niece and a nephew and a brother-in-law who can't wait to meet you. They're down at the beach.”

Jasmyn grabbed Manda in a hug, long and tight, as if to make up for a lifetime of missed ones. Their laughter filled the courtyard.

Liv exchanged a look with Samantha. One of them was going to have to fetch some tissues.

Instead Samantha wrapped her arms around Liv. “Mama Liv, why are families so messy?”