California Homecoming (17 page)

“Do you think Rick can partner with you to get that?”

Did she? Sarah sank back into the pillows and shifted her gaze to the ceiling.

He had to. He was the baby’s father. Otherwise, she’d be another single mother — like Alicia.

“My half-sister is pregnant,” she announced.

“How does that make you feel?”

Feel?
“I don’t know.”

“Are you pleased?”

Sarah snorted. “Not hardly.”

“So not happy for her.”

“She’s going to be a single mom at seventeen. How can she know what she’s doing?”

Yet Alicia seemed to know her future more than Sarah did. Alicia had determined right from the beginning she wasn’t marrying her baby’s father, a gang member in Los Baños.

Sarah couldn’t make up her mind between two men.

The silence lingered.
Why isn’t the coach talking?

“Okay. I’m angry,” Sarah finally said.

“At your sister?”

Tears started falling from Sarah’s eyes. “No! At the whole situation. My father’s affair that produced Alicia, Rick wanting me to get an abortion, my mother’s constant interference, and Hunter — ”

Oops.

“Who’s Hunter?” The coach was quick.

“My handyman.”

The coach chuckled. “Did he put a pipe in upside down or something?”

“No. He’s a veteran with a prosthetic leg, but more capable than Rick ever was. Did I mention he’s my
live-in
handyman?”

Drat.
She hadn’t meant to say that either.

“I see.”

“I’m glad one of us does,” Sarah said. “Can you explain it to me?”

Carol laughed. “I can help you explain it to yourself, which is even better.”

Sarah frowned. “If you say so.”

“I have some assignments for you. First, get a journal … ”

Sarah had heard about the dreaded assignment of writing in a journal first thing in the morning from her mother and Annie. Her assignment came with a twist, though. She had to write about how it felt to be pregnant.

Right now? Boring.

• • •

Hunter was gone by the time Rick arrived on Saturday, but Mandy was still in the kitchen, sworn to secrecy about Hunter’s living arrangements.

Rick was all smiles when he came in, loaded with bags, leafy greens once again escaping from the tops. “I’ve got chicken for
pot de feu
. You’ll love it. I think I’ve finally mastered the technique.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, darling. How’s the baby? How are you?”

“We’re good.”

A pot clanged in the kitchen.

Rick straightened up. “Who’s that?”

“Mandy.”

“Is she going to be here all weekend?”

“She does live here.” Sarah tried to hold her temper back. “She’ll be out most of the evening for work, if that helps.”

He started toward the kitchen. “I’ll put these away.”

The murmur of voices came from the kitchen hall and Sarah longed to be a fly on the wall in that sunny room. If she went by the increased noise, however, things weren’t going well.

Mandy came down the hallway and shouted over her shoulder, “The kitchen’s all yours until Monday morning, Rick. Nice to meet you.”

She frowned at Sarah and ran up the stairs. The door slammed a little harder than needed.

Sarah sighed and picked up a mess of yarn from her lap. In January she’d decided it was time to start making things for the baby and ordered what was billed as a “simple crochet blanket” from the Internet. The directions may have been simple for some people, but as she examined the stitches, Sarah realized her third attempt was going to need to be pulled out too.

Rick came into the living room. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen while I make lunch?”

She gestured to her makeshift bed. “You’ll have to wheel it in.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“The doctor said bed rest. That’s how we’ve been coping with it around here.”

“Can’t you at least get out of it before I wheel it in?”

Sarah sighed. “Can you give me a hand?” She reached up and Rick took her hand to help her.

They stood for a brief moment before Rick leaned in and kissed her.

Nothing.

His lips were moist and clammy. Whatever spark there had been was gone. Could they get it back?

She forced herself to respond and when they broke, Rick smiled. “That’s better.”

She was a fraud.

The chaise bounced against the wall as Rick pulled it down the hall. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s awkward.”

“That’s okay,” she said, glancing at the thin scratch in the wood. Hopefully, Hunter would be able to cover it up.

“Your throne, madam,” Rick said with a flourish of his arm.

She smiled, sat, picked up her crocheting, and began to rip it out.

Rick bustled around the kitchen, pots and pans clanging. “When did you say you were getting the kitchen redone? It could really use an upgraded dishwasher to save on washing pots and pans.”

“I’m bringing the kitchen up to code, but I don’t think it’s going to be the gleaming, state-of-the-art place you have in mind. Not in the budget.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. What is your budget? Where are you getting the money?”

“My dad left me a trust fund and I’m using that. Don’t have the numbers right now.”
And I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did.
His question bothered her, like an itch between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t quite reach.

“Well, the kitchen’s the heart of the inn, you know, so this is the best place to spend your money.”

Sarah finished pulling apart the blanket and began to rewrap the yarn in a ball. “I’m not sure I agree. People are going to come here for an experience. Food’s part of it, but not everything. The gardens, the appointments in the rooms, the service — those are just as important.”

He put down the pot he was holding and faced her. “That’s not what we planned, Sarah. We were going to create a destination restaurant with a few rooms, not an inn with a few meals.”

“But this inn isn’t set up that way.”

“Well, then, we need to change it around.”

If she could have stalked out of the room, she would have. “This is
my
inn, Rick. I made my decision after you told me you wanted nothing more to do with me
or
our child.”

“I thought we were over that. I’m trying to make amends and you’re not giving me a break.”

“I
am
giving you a break by even seeing you.” She took a deep breath. She needed to bring this conversation down a notch before they had another big explosion. “But I had to make decisions at the time with what I knew — you, the chef, weren’t in the picture.”

By Rick’s clenched jaw, Sarah knew he was trying to get his emotions under control, too.

“I see. But what becomes of our plans if we get back together?” He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.

“What do you want for our future?”

“Same thing I always wanted — make a destination restaurant.”

“Then what?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. You think about these things too much. I thought that was a big enough goal.”

“What about a family?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Well, I seem to be getting that fairly soon now.” He put his palms on the table. “Look, Sarah, I’m not a plan ahead kind of guy. I know what I want to do next, but then?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to be open to opportunity. Sail the Pacific in a boat, open the first sustainable restaurant in Kenya, whatever.”

“Tough with a family.”

“Sarah, you and I never talked about kids before this. I’m an only child. So are you. Why do we need a lot of rug rats under foot? One baby will be fine. She — or he — will learn to adapt. Any more?” He shook his head. “That’s nowhere in the cards for me.”

Until that moment, Sarah hadn’t thought about the type of family she wanted. She thought of Alicia, also an only child, who wanted to be closer so their children could grow up together. Maybe she’d been so busy running away from Costanoa that she hadn’t stopped to figure out how to get what she
did
want.

“Oh,” was all she said.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Rick stood and went back to cooking.

Sarah picked up the crochet pattern, hook, and yarn. Consulting the directions one more time, she began to create a chain for the first row. As she looped the yarn, she realized she was as rudderless as Rick was.

“How are we getting this in here?” Paul asked Hunter a few days later.

Hunter examined the secondhand gas stove Mandy had managed to snag at the auction and visually measured at the back door to the kitchen. They’d already eliminated the front door as a possibility. Too much chance for damage.

“I think if we take off the doorjamb, we can just squeak it through.”

“If you say so, boss.” Paul grinned at Hunter.

Hunter smiled back, glad he and Paul were getting along so easily. Moving anything was a pain, and doing it with a partner who wasn’t able to cooperate made it a bigger problem.

Carefully, Hunter removed the door and the pieces surrounding it.

“Good thing Sarah can’t see this,” Mandy said from the kitchen.

“She sleeping?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. She seems to be doing a lot of pondering and writing in her journal and I think she’s worn herself out.”

“What’s she thinking about?” Paul asked as he maneuvered the final bit of the stove into the kitchen.

“What every woman thinks about — men.” Mandy cracked an egg into a bowl. “Omelets okay for lunch? The neighbor’s hens have been laying and they’re drowning in eggs.”

“Why do women think so much?” Paul asked. “Just go after what you want. That’s my motto.”

Hunter glanced up in time to see Mandy stare at Paul with an expression between a glare and curiosity.

So that’s what’s up.

He’d caught an undercurrent of feeling between the two, but hadn’t been able to figure out what it was until now. “Just go after what you want.” Hunter’s thoughts drifted to Sarah and their aborted date. His feelings hadn’t died, but he’d kept them hidden.

He’d wait until Sarah made her decision. It was the honorable thing to do.

What a crock.
Defending the country was supposed to be honorable and he’d seen what that had led to.

Paul and Hunter maneuvered the new stove to the middle of the kitchen and put the door back together.

“Now what?” Mandy said.

“Now we pull out the old stove and figure out what I need to do to get the new one hooked up.”

“Not until after lunch.”

“Am I invited?” Elizabeth walked into the kitchen from the front hallway.

“Sure!” Mandy gave Sarah’s mother a brief hug. “Got lots of eggs.”

“Where’s Sarah?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sleeping,” Hunter said. “She said she wanted someone to rouse her before lunch.” He added. “If you want to get her up, that’d help us out. Paul and I have to pull the stove out.”

“Not until after lunch! Geez!” Mandy said. “Go clean up, get Sarah’s chair in here, and set the table.”

Hunter saluted. “Yes ma’am.” He and Paul went out the front hall, but not before he caught the once-over Elizabeth gave him. She still didn’t like that he was living in the inn; that was evident.

Maybe he should find somewhere else to live.

No. If Sarah chose Rick, he’d bow out, but not until then. He’d only met the man once, but Hunter didn’t trust him. In the military he’d learned to size up men quickly.

Besides, there’d been the kiss in the hospital.

I still have a chance.

Since he’d moved into the inn, his PTSD episodes were diminishing, another reason to stay a little longer. Whether it was being in his old home, living around Sarah or working in wood most of the day, he didn’t know. But he didn’t want to change anything until he became more secure.

Within minutes they were all back in the kitchen. Sarah walked into the room, her mother close behind her. “Stop shadowing me, Mom. I’m okay. I spend all day in bed. Trust me.” She gestured to the people around the table. “Do you think they’d let me get up even if I wanted to?”

Elizabeth chuckled and glanced around the room. Once again, her gaze fell on Hunter.

He was going to need to do something about her suspicions.

After lunch, while the others were cleaning up under Sarah’s supervision, he approached Elizabeth. “Can you come outside with me for a moment? There’s something I want your advice on.”

She studied him for a moment. “Okay.”

He led her out the front and into the garden that was coming into shape under Gertrude’s talented hands.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Elizabeth asked.

“Why don’t you have a seat.” He gestured to one of the unearthed cement benches.

Elizabeth glanced at it and sat. He plunked himself down next to her.

“I don’t think you like me much and I’d like to know why,” he said.

“Well, you don’t mince words, that’s for sure,” Elizabeth said and smoothed her slacks.

“So?” he said.

“I don’t have a problem with you.” She regarded him. “I don’t think it’s appropriate that you’re living here with Rick still in the picture.”

Hunter was quiet for a minute, the whisper of brush in the breeze and chirp of starlings the only interruption. How could he explain?

“I know you think that parents should stay together no matter what for the sake of the children,” he began.

She nodded. “Unless one of them is abusive or addicted, or something like that. If they elected to have children, they should stand by them.”

Hunter twisted his fingers together. He wanted Elizabeth’s respect, but he’d have to tread carefully. “My parents stayed together. My dad forced my mother into it, threatening to take me away and leave her penniless, but they stayed together.”

“Sounds like abuse, to me,” she said. “We sometimes forget that verbal abuse is just as damaging as physical abuse. It must have been hard for you.”

No wonder Sarah respected her mother. “Yes.” He gestured toward the house. “This house used to be my folks’. When I got out of rehab, I learned it was for sale, and I came down to buy it using a VA loan. I wanted a place to feel safe.”