A Beach Wish Read online

  Floret turned her smile to him. “I have no idea. But all will be fine.” And she followed Henry out.

  Chapter 22

  Keeping her eyes on the urn, Zoe walked over to the log and sat down beside her father—not too close—and turned slightly so she could see his face, even though he was looking down at the urn he held in both hands.

  He didn’t say anything, so Zoe sat watching him watch the urn.

  The air was still, so still that Zoe began to wonder if the chimes had been a dream and didn’t really exist. She was tempted to look into the trees, catch sight of one of them, but she didn’t take her eyes off her father. Her father.

  He was a stranger. An angry man, who until a few moments ago wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe didn’t even now.

  “She came back for Eve’s graduation.”

  His voice was such a surprise that Zoe started. It wasn’t really a statement that required a response. So she didn’t give one.

  He turned sharply. “Why do you think she did that?”

  Zoe frowned. “Because she loved her daughter and wanted to see her?”

  “But she didn’t see her. Not so as Eve would know. Not any of us saw her.”

  “It seems pretty clear to me that none of you wanted to see her, ever acknowledge her. And Eve didn’t even know about her.”

  “That was wrong.”

  “Pretty much,” Zoe said tentatively. She needed to stay prepared in case he lashed out at her in his anger. Like mother, like son. Zoe didn’t trust either of them.

  He fell into silence.

  She waited. She wanted to get up and leave. She didn’t think they would ever be anything to each other. But he had the ashes.

  “Why didn’t you follow your music?”

  Zoe shot him a glance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You were going to be a musician.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your brother told me.”

  “Did he tell you I blew my Juilliard audition?”

  “Juilliard isn’t the only place to learn music; you gave up.”

  Of all the things they could be talking about, this was the last she’d expected, though it made sense. If ever there was going to be a conduit to Lee Gordon, it might be through music.

  “Well?”

  “I didn’t give up. It was a deal I made with myself. If I failed, I would study something useful.”

  Lee carefully placed the urn beside him. The side farthest from her, Zoe noted. “Music is useful.”

  “I know, I just . . .”

  “You got shouted down by your family, just like your mother did.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She could have stood up to her family—she could have, but she didn’t. “You don’t know what I’m like. You don’t even know what my mother was like.”

  “I know she left me. She gave in to her parents. She didn’t give us a chance.”

  “Maybe. But my mother loved order above everything. Do you really think she could have been happy sharing the life you led?”

  “Why not? You only know her after the spirit was taken out of her. She wasn’t like that before.”

  Before you got her pregnant and she gave in to the comforts she’d grown up with? For the first time, Zoe felt a pang of sympathy for this man. She had a creeping feeling that the woman Jenny had become was already firmly established in Jenny the teenage mother. “She made her choice.”

  “She gave up too easily.”

  “Maybe. Did you go after her?”

  “I was on tour.”

  Zoe just looked at him.

  “Then it was too late. Her parents wouldn’t let me see her. When Hannah told me about the baby, I couldn’t believe it. At least they let her bring the baby home.”

  He hadn’t even known about Eve before Jenny left? Talk about the coward’s way out. The same way her mother had left her to deal with the ashes. The same way Zoe had planned to dump the ashes and run?

  Maybe Lee Gordon deserved a little more understanding than she’d thought. But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet. If ever.

  “So you blamed her for your unhappiness and let that disappointment wreck the rest of your life. Everyone says you succumbed to drugs and alcohol and made everyone around you suffer.”

  He looked out into the distance, straight through the keyhole of trees to the sea. They were perfectly positioned, as if the log had been placed there to admire the view. Maybe it had been.

  “At least she knew where Eve was. I never even knew about you.”

  “And if you had?”

  “I would have told her to send you to me.”

  “What? You don’t even like me.”

  “I would have raised you right. With music.”

  “Oh, give me a break. You had Eve and she hasn’t mentioned music once since I came.” Except to jokingly offer Zoe a job playing in the bar downstairs.

  “Eve can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Music just isn’t in her soul. That’s okay. Something else is. The inn, the spa—she’s a nurturer. But you . . . music is in your soul.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I heard your song.”

  Zoe looked away. Afraid of the burning in her throat, the feel of tears welling up in her eyes. Those four words, I heard your song, they touched something hidden, something carefully protected. I heard your song.

  She found herself being drawn to this old, gaunt, ponytailed rock ’n’ roller from a decade long gone. She had to consciously pull back; to care about him would be a betrayal of the woman who had nurtured her for her entire life.

  “You shouldn’t have brought her back.”

  “I know.”

  From the moment Zoe had driven into town, Jenny had been causing strife and anger. What a legacy to leave. And yet there were Eve and Mel and Noelle and Harmony. Floret and Henry and David, Eli and the professor.

  Would Jenny Bascombe have ever fit in here, really? Had she ever wondered what life would have been like if she’d stayed?

  Did you have any idea of what havoc this would cause? Did you plan this as your revenge for a life lived in a lie? Everyone oblivious to your subterfuge, even on that rainy day when two kids discovered Sonny and Cher. What unhappiness were you living with that we never saw.

  The perfect suburban mother and wife. Until your husband betrayed you. Was it all a lie? Except for a few minutes backstage at the Nassau Coliseum. And me, your little secret, the product of those few minutes of relinquishing your well-practiced control. We could have lived on without ever knowing. Had you known from the beginning that this would be your final act?

  The urn appeared below her downcast eyes. The smooth celadon cradled in long, leathery fingers.

  “Take her.”

  Zoe took the urn. Watched as Lee Gordon pushed himself slowly up from the log and walked into the woods.

  Zoe sat there in the quiet, listening for the sounds of footsteps, but there was nothing. Why had he just left like that? Take her? Take her where? Back to Long Island? Or dump her wherever, he didn’t care.

  She wanted to run after him. Say, Not so fast. You can’t just unload on me and leave. But it was just what he’d done.

  She felt the breeze before she heard the first tinkle of sound. This time she didn’t welcome it. It sounded like it was mocking her, every little thing, as it echoed through the trees. She stood, snatched up the tote, returned the urn inside, and got the hell out.

  Mel watched as Eli nervously tore open the envelope from the university. She kind of felt like she was going to throw up. Because she was sure it was his acceptance to his big pre-semester program. She was glad for him. She would be a horrible person if she wasn’t glad for him.

  “Yes!” he said, and pumped the letter in the air.

  She smiled. It wasn’t a real smile. But it was the best she could do. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

  He picked her up and twirled her around. “I made it. I made it.” He set her down an
d wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him. It was such a loser thing to do. She didn’t care. She just wanted things to be the same.

  “Mel, be happy for me.”

  “I am. When do you leave?”

  He let go of her abruptly. “In three weeks. But we’ll see each other all the time. I’ll only be in Boston. It’s not so far away. Can’t you be a little happy for me?”

  “I said I am. I think it’s great.”

  “It’s only a couple of hours away. I’ll come home every weekend. Well, not at first, but once regular term begins.”

  “You’re already talking like a college student.”

  Eli’s face fell. “Please be happy for me, Mel. You’ll find what you want, too. We have all our life before us. We can do so many things. Learn so much stuff. Just think about it.”

  She wanted him. To stay. Here. She’d been thinking of nothing else for the past few months. Eli had a plan. All her friends had plans. She didn’t have a clue. Much less a plan. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Not everybody had to go off and do great things. Some people just stayed home and were normal.

  “I am happy for you. I really am.” She had to turn away. She was happy for him, but not for her. She looked out the window trying to keep from crying. Saw Zoe Bascombe running down the drive.

  What the hell? Why was she running like somebody was chasing her? Mel leaned into the window, peered into the woods, but didn’t see anything.

  Eli came up behind her and put his arms around her, nestling his chin into her shoulder like he sometimes did. “I love you, Mel.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “But I don’t want to get married. Not yet. We’re too young. I don’t even have a way to support you.”

  “We can both work at the inn.”

  “Mel—I want to be a scientist. If we’re meant to be together, a few years won’t matter.”

  “They matter to—” Mel sucked in her breath. Her grandfather stepped out of the trees, looked toward the house. Mel pulled back from the window, pushing Eli backward.

  “Mel, don’t.”

  Mel peeked around the window frame. He had turned from the house. He was going down the drive after Zoe.

  “I have to go.”

  “Mel. Don’t be like that. It’s for the best. You know it is.”

  “It’s not that. Something else.” She rushed out the door, swung around the newel, and took the stairs two at a time.

  “Mel, wait.”

  “Later.” She ran outside, letting the door slam behind her. Dulcie jogged up to meet her. Ma-a-a’ed, and butted against her leg. “Go away.” Mel pushed the goat away and ran across the yard. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had to stop him from doing something awful.

  Zoe wasn’t sure what she planned to do, but things couldn’t go on like this. Chris would be back soon and they could go home together.

  She’d meant to go straight to her room, but when she reached the Solana lobby, she changed her mind. Or something changed her mind for her. Instead of going down the hall to the elevator, she turned to the right, stopped at the closed doors of the bar.

  It was early still, and the bar wouldn’t be open for several hours. The door was probably locked. She tried it anyway. It opened; she slipped inside.

  The room was dark. The rectangle of sunlight framed by the French doors cast everything else into shadows. Everything but the edge of the bandstand.

  She didn’t know why she’d come here, didn’t question it. She was on autopilot; something beyond her moved her closer and closer until she was standing in the sun, staring at the shining ebony wood of the piano.

  She stepped onto the bandstand, placed the tote carefully on the floor. Pulled the piano bench out and sat down.

  Lifted the fallboard. The sun cast a diagonal swath of light across the keyboard, and she sat just looking at the pattern of light and dark.

  There had been a time in her life, most of her life, when she would rush home from school, from a playdate, from a soccer game, wash her hands, and sit down at the piano. She dutifully practiced her scales, her études, learned her first Scarlatti, then Beethoven and Mozart, but it was her free time she cherished most. When tunes came into her head, then to her fingers—sometimes words, sometimes just a harmony.

  Should she have studied more? Practiced harder? Performed more? Put herself out there, taken a chance?

  She thought about what Lee Gordon had said in the glen. Had she given up too easily? What did that say about her? It was like the decisions were all black-and-white like the unplayed keys of the piano. Until they were joined in music.

  Her life had been exciting, lived large with events, and travel, and the adrenaline rush of working in the entertainment business. It had been one event after another, all played out in loud music and high-def color.

  But Lee was right about one thing. Her mother.

  Zoe saw it now, though she hadn’t recognized it before. The reason for her mother’s award-winning flowers. It was the color—the underlying harmony—she was missing in her life. Two things she had probably found with Lee Gordon. Not that Zoe thought for a minute it would have lasted.

  Jenny’s life was ordered by black and white. Logical, no wiggle room, down to whether pearls or gold looked better with whatever outfit she wore on a particular night. She never veered from her decision. Pearls with the black de la Renta cocktail dress, and the gold mesh chain with the blue Anne Klein. Never once did the pearls make their way to the blue dress nor the gold to the black.

  Because she’d made a choice and lived with that choice with precision. If someone wrote her biography, it would be called Jennifer Bascombe’s Precise Life.

  Zoe had left that painstakingly precise family and fallen into this messy, angsty alter family. They were complicated and unreliable; they caused too much heartache, sometimes catching onlookers in the cross fire, like the Kellys. She’d left a life where she had a place, even if it wasn’t exactly the place she had chosen, and now she was afraid she couldn’t go back—or if she even wanted to go back.

  She certainly couldn’t stay here. As much as she wanted to get to know her family, it was a relationship that was rife with emotional landmines. Her career was already filled with emotional landmines; she didn’t want to live that way 24/7.

  But whether she stayed or not, whether the Bascombes threw her off or not, or Hannah Gordon ran her out of town, when she left, she’d take one thing with her. She wouldn’t forsake it again.

  She lowered her right hand, fingers curved; her index finger gently touched the keys, and a deep, unnamed current surged through her, branching out and filling every empty place inside her. She lifted her wrist, lowered another finger to the keys, the faint hint of a sound, the left hand, quietly joining the first individual notes, slowly at first, barely touching, moving closer and closer until they tumbled together. Separating, interweaving, running along the scale, then exploding in pure little bits of sound.

  The song of the chimes she had been carrying in her head. Now it was all around her in the air, and she relished it, lost herself in it, and she played, alone with her music. Where she belonged.

  “What are you doing?” Mel whispered, coming up behind her grandfather.

  He was standing at the doorway to the Solana bar. The double doors were ajar. The bar should be closed at this time of day. She didn’t see Zoe anywhere. She hoped he wasn’t after the bourbon.

  He glanced back at her. “Shhh. Listen.” He motioned her to stand beside him.

  She did, straining her ears to hear what he was talking about. Then she heard it. Someone was playing the piano.

  Not their house piano player, maybe one of the guests. They weren’t supposed to be in there. She started to tell him to ask them to leave, but she saw his face. It had a strange expression. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or sad or what. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes seemed too bright.

  It scared her. Like most ev
erything else in her life. She started to open the door, put a stop to whatever was causing him to act this way. He grabbed her arm and held her back.

  “Just listen.”

  She listened, watching his face, feeling the energy in him. So they stood there, grandfather, granddaughter, one rapt, the other wondering what the hell was going on and whether she should go find her mom before he did something crazy.

  Eve knew things had gotten out of hand. She’d let Hannah run her life all these years, but whatever was driving Hannah, it was killing her family, and turning the town into an angry mob.

  She’d missed the confrontation with the health department, but she’d been accosted more than once on her way back to the inn by friends demanding that she do something. As if she could.

  She wondered if Hannah had finally gone too far by closing down Kelly’s. There was no doubt that this was Hannah’s doing. She had more than one local official under her thumb.

  There was trouble ahead. Eve was sure of it. She’d overheard Ralph Perkins, who owned the three laundromats in town, telling a group of local store owners who had gathered on the sidewalk that it was time someone did something about Hannah’s stranglehold on the town. He’d recently lost to Hannah in a bidding war for a property outside of town. A very lucrative property that was soon to be the site of high-end condominiums. He had breakfast at Kelly’s every day. And he was not happy about this turn of events.

  Funny if eggs and toast would be the straw that broke Hannah Gordon’s empire.

  Maybe it would come to nothing. And yet Eve couldn’t help worrying. Would the anger spill over to her own family? The inn? She made a point of using local suppliers and services when possible. She could always go outside for the inn’s needs, but at what cost? It would be less expensive but would cost her plenty in good will.

  It was not something she wanted to test.

  She could stand with the town if things came to a head. She already sided with them, but could she turn on her grandmother, who had given her a good life and a start in business?

  But Hannah was old. Did Eve owe allegiance more to her than to her own family? They needed a secure future. And what about her new family? She had a sister, half brothers. Hannah would never acquiesce to Zoe Bascombe being a part of the Gordon clan.