Page 114 of A Soldier's Return

She considered the idea then rejected it. “Not at all. I think you’re very determined but I don’t believe you’re ruthless.”

“We need The Sea Urchin. I’m afraid nothing else will do.”

“You need it or you want it? Big difference, Eben.”

“Both. The more time I spend in Cannon Beach, the more I know this is the ideal location for another Spencer Hotel. It’s perfect.”

Before she could answer, Chloe skipped in and threw her arms around Eben’s waist. “Hi Daddy. What are you doing in here?”

“Just talking to Sage.”

She seemed to accept that with equanimity. “I’m hungry. Can we have dinner at Brambleberry House again tonight?”

Eben looked taken aback at Chloe’s question and sent a swift look toward Sage. Her first inclination was to go ahead and extend the invitation Chloe was angling for in her not-so-subtle manner, but she quickly checked the impulse. Eben said he had paperwork to finish.

Beyond that, she needed a little space and distance from the two of them to see if she could rebuild the protective barriers around her heart.

She forced a smile to Chloe. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve got other plans tonight.”

It wasn’t a lie. She was supposed to have her monthly book club meeting at By-The-Wind tonight, though all day she had been planning to do her best to wiggle out of it.

“What about tomorrow?” Chloe asked.

“We’ll have to see,” Eben stepped in. “Come on, Chloe. We’d better get out of Sage’s hair and it looks like you need to get cleaned up before dinner. What do you say to pizza tonight?”

“I sayyum,” Chloe chirped.

Sage walked them to the door of the center. “Bye, Chloe. Don’t forget your hat tomorrow. Remember, it’s beach day.”

“I can’t wait! Can we ride bikes again tomorrow morning while Daddy and Conan run and go to Hug Point?”

She’d had a tough enough time getting the image of Eben’s muscles out of her head all day today. She didn’t need a repeat performance in the morning. “Guess what? I get to sleep in tomorrow since Anna wants to take a turn running with Conan in the morning.”

To her surprise, disappointment sparked in Eben’s gaze but he said nothing about it. “Come on, kid.”

“Bye Sage,” Chloe said reluctantly. She hugged Sage then grabbed her father’s hand and walked outside.

This was becoming a habit Eben had a feeling would be tough to break when they returned to San Francisco.

Early the next morning, Eben stood at the deck railing watching the ocean change color with the sunrise, from black to murky blue to a deep, rich green. He was coming to depend entirely too much on these moments of solitude, when he had the vast beach to himself, sharing it only with the occasional shore bird.

He had intended to sleep in at least until six, but he woke an hour before his travel alarm had been set to go off. Restless and edgy, he had opted to come out here and enjoy the morning.

The beauty of the Oregon coast had somehow seeped into him. Despite the frustration over The Sea Urchin, he felt calmer here than he had in a long time. Maybe since those rough last few months of his marriage.

He shifted. He didn’t like dwelling on Brooke and all the ways he had failed her. The worst of it was that now he wasn’t even sure when he had stopped loving his wife.

She had been a friend of his sister Cami’s and he had known her since she was a girl. He had been her escort at her debutante ball, had dated her through college. Theirs had never been a grand passion, but in the early days at least it had been comfortable.

And then after Chloe was born, she had wanted so much more from him. She had become clingy, demanding. She had hated his work schedule, had resented the hours he spent rebuilding the company, then had started accusing him of a long string of affairs.

Her emotional outbursts had all seemed so much like his parents’ marriage—with the exception that his fatherhadbeen having affairs, buckets of them, and no one could ever have called Hastings Spencer a workaholic. Alcoholic? Yes. Workaholic? Not a chance.

The last few years of their marriage had been miserably unhappy and he had worked even more to avoid the tumult he hated so much at home. He imagined if Brooke hadn’t died, they would have been well on their way to divorce by now.

And most of it had been his fault. He acknowledged that now. He had been consumed with proving he wasnothis father, that he had inherited nothing from his unstable mother. As a result, he had refused to fight with Brooke, had refused to show much emotion at all.

He had lived with that guilt for two years now. The past couldn’t be changed. Perhaps it was time to let it go.

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