Page 65 of Second Chance at Sunshine Inn

“Cade...”

He held his hand up. “Not now, Everleigh. I need to finish getting breakfast ready.”

The man’s silence nearly drove her bonkers. The urge to take his arm and force him to sit and talk to her made her feel almost mad. But she had to respect his boundaries, no matter how they irked her. Besides, it was probably a bad idea to have a discussion like that within earshot of the guests.

“Okay,” she finally conceded before busying herself with the juice glasses and mugs.

Soon the appetizing scent of the quiche was drifting into the dining room, and the two middle-aged couples who were staying at the inn were ready for their breakfast. Everleigh and Cade served them and made small talk while they ate.

Cade plastered a manufactured smile on his face while he listened to Mr. Becker’s story about the fish he caught during his trip to Maine a few weeks earlier. He also nodded along with Mr. Hill’s tale about the classic car show he and his wife had attended on Main Street the night before.

Soon their quiche, coffee, and parfaits were gone, and Everleigh was stacking up their dishes and carrying them to the counter. Meanwhile the guests were making their way outside to spend the day in Coral Cove.

She hoped Cade would start talking soon, but he stripped off his black apron and hung it in the pantry.

“Mr. Hill said their commode won’t stop running. I bought the supplies to fix it before Alana got sick and then forgot about it. If you don’t mind cleaning up the kitchen, I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure.” She nodded, trying hard not to look flustered.

“Thanks.” He hesitated and then headed for the doorway.

Everleigh sighed and shook her head. Cade was a complicatedman, but she was determined to crack him open somehow. Maybe he had good reasons for his reticence, but sheknewshe could be the friend he needed.

Everleigh hummed as she filled the dishwasher, and soon the dining table was cleared, the floor was swept, and the dishwasher was humming. She stowed the dustpan and broom and then headed to the sunroom to uncover and rearrange the furniture.

A knock on the door stopped her in the hallway, and she made a beeline to the front of the house. She opened the door, and an attractive, middle-aged woman with bright-blue eyes and graying light-brown hair stood on the porch. She looked familiar, but Everleigh couldn’t place the woman as she fidgeted with her shoulder bag.

“Can I help you?” Everleigh asked.

“I’m Trisha Witherspoon, Cade’s mother.”

Everleigh hesitated and then smiled. “Oh, hi.” She remembered her from the memorial service. “I’m Everleigh.” She opened the door wide and waved her in. “Please, come inside.” A lump formed in her stomach when she considered the rough conversation Mrs. Witherspoon had had with her son. She sincerely hoped she was here to clear the air.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Witherspoon toyed with the hem of her shirt and gave Everleigh an uncertain expression. “I was hoping to talk to Cade.”

“He’s working in the Sand Fiddler Suite. Follow me.” She escorted Mrs. Witherspoon up the open staircase to the first suite on the right, which included a double bed, a sitting area with a television and love seat, and a row of windows overlooking the bay.

“This is lovely.” Mrs. Witherspoon moved her hand over the arm of the love seat and the cherry coffee table. “I love the antique furniture and the lace curtains.”

“This was one of Alana’s favorite rooms. She inherited the furniture from her grandparents’ house, and she wanted to share it withher visitors.” Everleigh crossed to the bathroom and rapped on the door, which was ajar. “Cade?” she called. “You have a visitor.”

Movement sounded before he pushed open the door and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his gray T-shirt. His eyes homed in on his mother, and they narrowed. “What are you doing here, Mom?”

The strain between them was unmistakable. Mrs. Witherspoon shifted her weight on her feet. “We need to talk.”

Everleigh tried to make a graceful exit, but Mrs. Witherspoon and her son already seemed to have forgotten she existed. So she sneaked out of the room, softly closing the door behind her before retreating down the stairs.

While she rearranged the sunroom, she worried and worried over Cade. Were he and his mother upstairs working things out? Surely this was something the two of them could fix.

***

“She’s pretty.” Mom pointed toward the doorway.

Cade ignored Mom’s comment about Everleigh. “What do you want, Mom?”

“I told you—I just want to talk.” She pointed to the sitting area and sat on the love seat. “Join me?”

He did as he was told and dropped onto a wing chair across from her. “What else is there to say? You made it crystal clear yesterday that you want nothing to do with your firstborn.”

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