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Curt met Seth’s gaze and nodded his appreciation.
His dad scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Family didn’t mean anything to him when he ran around town, drunk and stupid, getting arrested, treating other people like dirt. He brought shame down on the whole Graham family.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I acted out to get your attention?” Curt said in a low, raspy voice. “You and Mom were so busy fighting, you didn’t pay any attention to us kids.” As soon as the words were out, he regretted saying them. Old habits pushing through again.
“Oh, so now you’re blaming me and your mom for your crummy choices?” his father said, his blue eyes blazing. “You never did want to take responsibility for your own behavior, Curt. Never.”
Curt felt the old resentment building, a tide of anger that manifested itself as a burning wall inside of him. The urge to lash out was strong—overwhelming, actually—and Curt opened his mouth to blast his dad with both barrels.
But then he realized that would be something the old Curt would do. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. Couldn’t be if he wanted to build a new life. So he stuffed the vitriol and remembered what Marv had taught him:
Own your behavior.
You cannot fix what you do not acknowledge.
The only thing you can control is your own reactions.
“You’re right, Dad,” he said, keeping tight control on his tone. “I do need to take responsibility for my behavior.”
His dad pulled in his stubbly chin, frowning, clearly flummoxed by Curt’s statement.
Curt went on, “I made bad choices, ones I regret. But I want to change that pattern, and that’s why I’m back in Moonlight Cove. I want to be a different man, one who can be counted on, one who my niece and nephew will look up to.”
“So we’re all just supposed to forgive and forget?” his dad asked, his eyes narrow. “Is that what you’re expecting?”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” Curt replied, hating the hesitation in his voice. He’d always felt unsure around his father and it looked as if that emotional reaction hadn’t changed. His heart sank. Another daunting challenge to face and deal with. There were so many pieces to be put together in the puzzle of his new life that he could barely keep track of them.
“You always did wish for the moon.” His dad shook his head. “All those dreams of being a musician, when you could have just been content to work at the store.”
“That was your dream, Dad, not mine,” Curt replied. This was an old bone between them—his dad had wanted Curt and his brothers to work in the store, expecting that one of them would someday take over. They’d had this argument in so many ways over the years Curt had lost count.
“Yeah, you’ve told me that before.” His dad ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking on end. “You didn’t want anything to do with the Sports Shack, and what did you do with your life instead? Wasted it on drugs.”
Seth stepped into the fray. “Hey, now—”
Curt held up a rigid hand. “No, I’ve got this.” While he appreciated Seth speaking up on his behalf, Curt had learned that he needed to fight his own battles—without drugs to numb him or give him false bravado.
Seth deferred and stepped back, allowing Curt a moment to rein in his temper. Getting angry would only fuel the fire. And prove to his father that he, Curt, was still a hothead. No matter what his dad threw out, Curt had to stay in control of his emotions, even though his gut was churning and he could feel his pulse beating in his head.
“You’re right, I did waste my life on drugs. You think I don’t know that?” He took a deep breath. “But now I’m looking for a fresh start, and I’ve taken the steps necessary to make that happen.”
“Fresh start?” His dad gave a derisive laugh. “There is no such thing as a fresh start in life, or I would have made one years ago.”
Yeah, Dad had never been able to rise above his hardscrabble childhood as an orphan. In fact, he seemed bent on perpetuating the negative cycle of his youth. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to break the circle.
“That’s your perspective, and you’re entitled to it,” Curt said. “But I have a new view on life, new goals, and I’ll do whatever necessary to achieve them. I have hope that people will see that I’ve changed.”
His dad snorted, then shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep on hoping. I’m not going to let you off the hook, and nobody else in this town is, either. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
Curt’s shoulders went heavy. He did his best not to give in to the downward pull, and tried to stand tall. But after so much time spent crawling through life, remaining upright and strong was hard. Especially when he had his dad shoving him down. But no one had said returning to Moonlight Cove would be easy. “You’re entitled to your opinion. I only have control over my own actions, so that’s the way I’m rolling.”
“Good luck with that,” his dad said, giving a mock salute. “You’re gonna need it.” He turned his attention to Seth, dismissing Curt as if he were a fly on the wall. “Did you get that fishing gear I ordered?”
Seth gave Curt a half-apologetic, half-questioning look, as if to ask if Curt wanted him to intervene.
Curt shook his head ever so slightly. No. He appreciated his brother’s willingness to defend him, but nothing Seth could say to Dad would make any difference.
Seth frowned, but then turned his attention to his dad. “Yeah, I did. It’s in my office.” He gestured sharply to the far wall. “Follow me.”
Without a glance toward Curt, his father trailed Seth to the back, leaving Curt alone. With a heavy sigh he leaned his arms on the front counter and put his head in his hands. Dad’s attitude stung. A lot. He had zero faith in Curt, and had made it clear he wasn’t going to overlook what Curt had done in the past.
Though Curt hadn’t really expected anything resembling true forgiveness, he’d nurtured a kernel of optimism that Dad had softened his stance in the past ten years. And that perhaps the townspeople would be able to forgive Curt’s past sins. His dad didn’t think that was ever happening.
Maybe Curt had hoped for too much. He’d torn a path of destruction through town during his teen years and the damage couldn’t be repaired. Maybe he’d always be a pariah: the middle Graham boy who’d barely made it through high school, caused trouble, and had almost killed himself one night twelve years ago while driving drunk.
Suddenly a vision of Jenna rose in his mind’s eye. What would she say if she found out the truth about him, assuming she didn’t know already? Would she look at him with derision in her eyes, ticking off his faults one by one as she went down her perfect-man checklist?
Probably.
A crater formed in his belly.
Another quandary circled around his brain like a poisonous snake. Had coming back to Moonlight Cove been one giant mistake that would be more easily left behind than dealt with?
Right now, he was very afraid all of the above was true and that starting over in Moonlight Cove—and hoping for love someday—was an unattainable dream that would never come true. No matter how hard he tried.
Chapter Four
Wincing, Jenna moved a rented chair into place on the patio and then slowly straightened, stretching her aching lower back. She’d been on her feet since dawn, and had been bending, lifting and carrying in preparation for Phoebe Sellers and Carson Winters’s wedding reception in a few hours. Jenna was exhausted.
But she had an event to cater—a paying proposition—which was a good thing all around, and could help generate more event business if the bride and groom were pleased and spread the word. That would be gold in a small town like Moonlight Cove.
So she wouldn’t complain—at least not out loud. Besides, her aches and pains were nothing a few aspirin and a hot bath wouldn’t help. Later. Much later. She still had a long, busy day ahead of her and probably wouldn’t even be finished cleaning up until almost midnight.
Thankfully, the weather had cooperated and they’d be able to go with plan A and have the main part of the reception outside, a risky proposition for the Washington Coast. Phoebe would be thrilled.
Jenna glanced at her watch. Just after noon. The reception started at four o’clock. And she still had tons to do—final food prep, making the flower arrangements, setting the tables. Finishing on time would be close, but she’d make it. She had to. No matter how tired and achy she felt. No one in the Flaherty family relaxed until all of the work was done.
“Hey, looks like you could use some help.”
Her heart gave a little blip. She turned and saw Curt stepping onto the patio. He’d left this morning saying he had a meeting with Seth at the Sports Shack, and hadn’t been back until now.
“You’re a guest.” She adjusted the chair’s position. “You don’t have to help.”
He grabbed one of the chairs and put it next to one of the round, tablecloth-covered tables she’d set up. “Things would go a lot faster this way, and you might be able to rest your back if I help some.”
She looked at him sideways. “How did you know my back hurts?”
“As someone who’s had back problems, I homed right in.” He demonstrated, cringing and then stretching. “Hallmark move for an achy spine.”
His perceptiveness threw her a bit. He was very observant, and that, for some reason, made her a bit uneasy. She recovered and cocked her head to the side. “You don’t look like you have back problems.”
“Looks are deceiving,” he said cryptically. “I injured my back in a motorcycle accident twelve years ago, and it periodically acts up.”
“Wow. Motorcycle accident?” She smoothed out a wrinkle on one of the cloths. “That sounds pretty serious.”
“It was. I broke a vertebra and wonked up my spine pretty good, and broke some ribs and my leg.” He looked away, but not before she saw a glimpse of a shadow in his eyes. “Spent almost a week in the hospital.”
Her hands stilled on the table as horror stabbed through her. “Oh, no. That sounds awful.”
“It was,” he said quietly. “I left town soon after.” Again, she sensed distinct sorrow simmering beneath his surface, a thread of angst that pulled at her.
“Why?” she asked, giving in to her curiosity. “I mean, I would think you’d want to be near your family after such a traumatic event.”
He paused with a chair in his hand. “You’d think so. But my family isn’t like most families, and...well, my dad and I had a falling-out after the accident, and I decided I needed to leave Moonlight Cove.”
Sympathy tightened her heart. “Oh, that must have been a hard decision.”
“Yes, it was difficult,” he said with thin lips.
She sensed more to the story, but she didn’t want to pry. He was a guest, after all, and if he wasn’t sharing, there had to be a reason. “You’ve recovered, I take it, except for your back?”
“For the most part,” he said in a tone that, again, made her think he wasn’t giving her all the details. Not that he should. They hardly knew each other. “So, you want me to just put the chairs around the tables?”
“You really don’t have to help.”
“I appreciate your concern, but my back is fine most of the time now, as long as I keep active. And this is my last day until I start working, so you might as well take advantage and put me to work.”
She chewed on her lip. Point taken. And, really, at this stage, another pair of hands would be a blessing. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did.” He looked at the chairs stacked by the deck railing. “I’ll unload all of those and you can go do something else.”
“Deal.” She gave him a grateful look. “And thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He went to the chairs. “Oh, how’s Miss Landry?”
She hadn’t been at breakfast this morning.
Jenna straightened an already straight sapphire-blue tablecloth. “She still has a headache, so she’s spending the day in her room.”
“Do you think I should go check on her?” He pointed toward the house.
“No, I just did, and she’s comfortably reading a gossip magazine.” Jenna stood back to make sure the tablecloth was hanging evenly. “She loves those things, the trashier the better.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” he asked, grabbing another chair. “She’s quite a character.”
“She was thrilled when I gave her a magazine stash a past guest had left.”
“I only hope I’m half as with it as she is when I get old.” He put the chair in its spot.
“Amen,” Jenna said. “I’ve seen what age can do to a person.”
“Your grandma?”
She nodded. “Yes. She was a real go-getter in her younger days, and after Gramps died, she just seemed to wither away.”
“Broken heart?” Curt asked softly.
Jenna’s own heart gave a little shudder; lost love hurt. “Probably.” She went over to get another chair from the stack. “They were inseparable and had a perfect marriage. I think she gave up in a way, after he died.”
“Here, I’ll do that,” he said, grabbing the chair she was going for. “Give your back a break.”
In answer, a sharp twinge zinged up her spine. She twitched, grimacing, and then rounded her back, trying to ease the ache there. She’d really overdone it. “Okay, okay, you’re right, my back is mad. I’ll let you do that for me.” It was actually nice to have help, a treat for the day, given she usually had to do all the work herself.
He shooed her away. “Go do something else, and when I’m done here, you can put me to work with other chores.”
She capitulated, “Okay, I’m going to go arrange the flowers.”
Turning, she headed into the house, and then went to the attached garage, where she’d stashed the flowers she’d picked up at the local florist, Penelope’s Posies. Meg Douglas, the owner and daughter of Penelope Douglas, the woman who’d originally started the store, had kindly agreed to order the flowers for Jenna at a heavy discount.
The yellow mums, stephanotis, white carnations, dark blue irises and ivy had filled the garage with the wonderful fresh scent of flowers. Jenna inhaled deeply, loving the aroma. She’d always been fascinated with flowers, and if she hadn’t ended up as owner and proprietor of the Sweetheart, or a teacher, she’d have become a floral designer. Or maybe a personal chef. Creating things had always appealed to her. She was definitely the only right-brainer in the family; Mom, Dad and her brother, Scott, were much more left-brained.
She went to work on Gramps’s old workbench, which ran the length of two sides of the two-car garage. She’d been up late last night setting out the lovely cut-glass vases Phoebe’s mom, Grace, had culled from her extensive collection of crystal to be used for the reception.
With necessary efficiency, Jenna went about cutting the flowers and greens to the appropriate lengths. Then, she did her favorite part—arranging the flowers in the containers she’d filled with water earlier. She hummed under her breath as she worked, determined to enjoy the peace and quiet while she had the chance.
As she worked, her thoughts drifted to Curt. He’d been through a lot, and she sensed an untold sad story that beckoned her in a way she didn’t quite understand. She knew he’d moved away because of a falling-out with his dad, but what had he done in L.A. for twelve years? Why wasn’t an attractive, nice guy like him married?
That question brought her up short. What was it about him that sucked her in and made her want to know everything about him? Well, besides his good looks and the intriguing shadows of his past she saw in his eyes—
“I finished the chairs.”
Squawking, Jenna jumped, almost knocking over one of the vases. She reached out to steady the teetering vase. “Oh, goodness, you scared me!” she said, her heart pounding.
“Sorry, I didn’t think I was sneaking up on you,” Curt said, moving around the front end of her car.
She put the greenery she’d been working with down. “You weren’t. I was just lost in thought.” About you.
He moved his gaze over her flower-making supplies. “Wow, you’ve got quite the little florist operation out here.”
“Yep, this is where the magic happens.” She determinedly directed her attention back to the arrangement she was working on, sliding some ivy into it with shaking hands.
“I didn’t realize you were doing so much for the reception. Flowers, food, all the details.”
“I offer a menu of items that clients can choose from, and Phoebe liked my ideas so much she opted to have me do just about everything for the reception.” Jenna liked to provide as much as possible because it was more lucrative to her bottom line, and lately, with the inn needing so many repairs, the bottom line was important.
“I really don’t know how you do all of it.” He shook his head. “You make me feel very lazy.”
“Trust me, lazy isn’t bad. I’d like a lazy day and I don’t see one on my schedule anytime soon.”
