Page 32 of Return to Rosewood Beach

She rolled back onto her back and stared at the ceiling. There was that water stain again. She wondered if it was there because the roof leaked a little bit.

I just want my family to have everything they need, she thought.But I know they won’t accept charity from me.

And what if she asked Grayson for money for her family, and he turned her down? Her stomach twisted at the thought. He’d been so strangely unpredictable lately, she had no idea how hemight react to that kind of question. He hadn’t even flown out for her father’s funeral, which still stung. She’d wanted to have him by her side for at least a day.

Finally she heaved a sigh, deciding there was no way she was going back to sleep. She slid out of bed, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. She grabbed a soft white shawl off the back of the armchair that was in her room and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, where she boiled a cup of water in a pot so that the tea kettle wouldn’t whistle and wake up Hazel and Samantha. She chose a bag of lavender tea from the many options inside Hazel’s tea cupboard and went to sit down on the couch by the window.

For a few minutes, she sat looking out at the rain and watching the pale gray dawn slowly start to illuminate the yard more and more. There was a maple tree just beyond the window, and its branches shook fitfully in the wind. She sipped her tea slowly, feeling soothed by its warmth and pleasant herbal flavor.

Finally, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and sighed. She hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Grayson since she’d arrived in Rosewood Beach. He’d called her back a few times, but she’d always missed his calls. They’d been playing phone tag and missing each other for days.

She knew he was busy with work, but she couldn’t help wishing he would put more effort into contacting her. She wanted to hear his voice on the phone, even if it was only for a few minutes.

She’d sent him a text the night before, asking him how he was doing and saying she hoped they could talk on the phone together soon. He hadn’t replied to it, and she didn’t understand how he could not take just a few seconds to check in with her and reply.

Almost as if she’d summoned it with her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a response from him.

GRAYSON: I’m doing okay, sweetheart. How are you holding up?

She held the phone tighter, her heart leaping up as if she was some teenager and a boy she liked was texting her for the first time. She calculated the time difference and realized that he must either be up very late or very early for work. But she knew that he was awake because he’d sent the text. She hesitated for a moment, and then dialed his number, unable to resist her desire to call him. It rang a few times, and then he picked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Her heart stopped and she felt flooded with relief. It was wonderful to hear his deep voice on the other line. She felt as though he was some kind of stranger, but she was aching to talk to him anyway.

“Hey, Grayson. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Up late working. This new merger is going to be the death of me. Sorry—I—I’m okay. How are you?”

“Oh, fine.” She twisted the edge of the shawl in her fingertips. “I’m up early. I couldn’t sleep.”

There was a short pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s all right. It’s five a.m. here, so not too bad. How is work going otherwise?”

He heaved a long sigh, and she didn’t know if it was because he didn’t really want to talk about it, or because even the thought of work made him feel stressed. “It’s going well. It’s a lot of work, but we’re coming out on top. But enough about me. How’s your family doing?”

She swallowed, not sure how to answer him. She didn’t want to tell him about what they’d learned about her father’s gambling debts, and the fact that he’d kept it all a secret fromher family for all those years. “They’re sad. Doing all right considering, I suppose.”

There was a short pause, and then he said, “I’m glad to hear they’re doing all right.”

Their conversation felt strained and awkward. She felt a surge of sadness, realizing that there had been a time when she wouldn’t have second-guessed what she could share with him. It was as though a distance had grown between them, and she felt nervous about trying to cross it.

“Thanks, honey.” She swallowed, continuing to play with the edge of her shawl.

“How’s everything else going? How’s that little hometown of yours doing?”

She smiled wryly a little, even though he couldn’t see her. Grayson had been to Rosewood Beach a few times before, and he’d never seemed to understand why she loved it so much. She knew he thought it was too provincial, at least for his personal tastes, and he liked the flashy, fast pace of L.A. He’d teased her about being a country bumpkin the first time he’d been to Rosewood Beach with her, and as she remembered that, her heart ached, realizing that it had been months since he’d teased her or joked with her about anything.

“Oh, it’s good. Cute as ever.”

“You’re not homesick, huh?”

For a moment, she was confused, wondering why he would think she was homesick when she was at home. Then in a flash she realized that he meant homesick for their house in L.A., and the revelation that she didn’t consider that to be her home made her feel stunned.

“Oh, I mean I am?—”

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