Page 56 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“Wow.” That word is full of fire—and fire isn’t something I’m used to in Mare’s voice. “That’s so…short-sighted.”

Definitely not the reaction I expected from her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you ever thought that maybe Dad was the best he could be because of Mom? If he’d gone on to New York and gotten that job instead of working here as an insurance broker, we would not even exist. Did he think of that?” Now she’s moving back and forth, and I’m a little scared she’s going to set the sand on fire with the ferocity of her pacing.

Suddenly, she stops and spears me with a look. “Blake, Dad might have talked about regret and not wanting you to have the kind of life he did. But do you think that if he’d known he was going to die in that accident, he would have wished for one more job promotion—a ‘bigger life’—or one more day with his family?”

The question rends the beachy air, hanging there, twisting and bending. Forcing me to look at it. Refusing to let me ignore it.

She continues, her voice softer. “I’m willing to bet, for all his bluster, that in the end, he saw what mattered most. And his biggest regret wasn’t that he didn’t live a big enough life. It’s that he didn’t appreciate how big the life he already had was.”

Then my baby sister drops her proverbial mic and crushes me in a hug.

And leaves me with a lot to think about.

eighteen

LUCY

If my life was a song, it’d be that old Alanis Morissette number about irony.

Because a month ago, I was avoiding home (and Blake) because I couldn’t stand him.

But now, I’m avoiding it because five nights ago, I let him kiss me—and haven’t been the same since. It’s seriously all I can do not to think about it.

To not think about doing it again.

So here I sit on a Saturday morning in Winona’s office, working on a business plan. Yes, I—Lucy Reynolds, with no college degree and no expertise of any sort except knowing how to keep a customer smiling—have spent the week working on a Green Robin business plan like Blake suggested, using the one he sent over as an example.

And I’m not saying it’s good, but it’s a start. A way to maybe make some sort of progress. The BOGO coupons have helped a bit, but it’s still not enough.

Basically, until Blake’s truck leaves, we’re in trouble. And Winona has been texting me daily for updates. I’m afraid she’s going to pull the plug on her trip—and I can’t have that.

My phone vibrates on the desk, and I glance up. How long have I been here, staring at my computer? A few hours, at least. I grab my phone and see that Chloe’s texted me.

Chloe: I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! But we’re still on for Wednesday, yeah?

Crud. What’s Wednesday? Tomorrow’s Father’s Day, so I know I’ve got time with the family all afternoon after the lunch shift. But what’s later in the week? I flip to the calendar app on my phone and groan. Right. A spa day for the twins’ birthday in Morro Bay, which is about thirty minutes from Hallmark Beach. I really shouldn’t take the time off, but I could use a girls’ day. Chloe isn’t the only one I haven’t spent quality time with. Sure, I was on the beach for the impromptu volleyball game last night, but left after an hour or so to—you guessed it—work on this stupid business plan some more.

Besides, I said I’d go. And my friends are everything to me. I have to be there for them.

Lucy: I know, I miss you! Yep, I’ll be there Wednesday. Can’t wait!

Setting my phone down again, I rub my temples and try staring at the business plan some more. What am I doing? I’m seriously no expert. Maybe I should just let Winona come home. This is her restaurant, after all.

But then a memory flashes—the last day of third grade. I came home from school, expecting Mama to be on the couch asleep or listlessly watching a soap opera like she had for the past year after Daddy had died. Instead, when I climbed from the bus steps and got to my house, she was waiting on the stoop.

She jumped up, and the first thing I noticed was her hair. She’d gone to the salon, had it cut and colored a bright red to match the pants she was wearing, along with a polka-dot blouse that made her look so pretty. She pulled me into a hug and asked if I was ready to go on an adventure.

My mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Yes, baby girl. I’m tired of being sad. And maybe that sadness is always going to be there. Maybe it’s just a part of us now. But you know what? We’re gonna ignore it from now on. We’re gonna make lemonade out of the lemons life’s given us.” She took my backpack from my shoulders and slipped her arms around me and pulled me close so I could smell the vanilla and cinnamon on her skin. Then she walked me into the house, where there were two ratty suitcases, all packed and ready to go. “We’re gonna outrun that sadness and start living our lives again.”

And we did our best.

That summer, and every summer after, until I was fifteen, we drove her beat-up Civic all over the United States, always ending in Hallmark Beach.

They were the happiest memories of my life.

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