Page 23 of The Beach Cottage
“Thanks. I found it at this boutique roaster in Brissy. And yes, parenting a teen is a balancing act — like you’re a juggler and you’re on a unicycle making your way across a trapeze wire. Or something like that.”
His eyes widened. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Did it,” she corrected. “Mine are grown and off living their best lives without me.”
“The thing is, she’s only got a few more years until she’s an adult as well, and I don’t want to miss a second of it.”
“I don’t blame you one bit.” If she was in his position, she’d want to spend every moment and all of her attention on getting to know her child as well.
“Thank you. You’ve been so supportive throughout this whole thing. I feel overwhelmed most of the time, but I hope you’ll still be my friend. I definitely need friends right now.”
“Of course I will. Anything you need, just ask.”
“Her mother, Kelly, is coming to visit.”
“Wow. Really?” A part of her was anxious to meet this woman. She must be someone special. She’d captured Aidan’s attention once. Would she do it again?
He nodded. “We speak regularly on the phone and have done ever since Grace first showed up. They had an argument and Grace simply ran off without saying a word about where she was going. Kelly threatened to call the police the first time I called. Then I explained to her that Grace came here without my knowledge and I would give her a place to stay until she’s ready to go home. She calmed down after that. She thought I’d somehow gotten in touch with Grace and convinced her to leave. Now, she wants to see her daughter.”
“I feel for her. She must’ve been scared to death when Grace disappeared.”
“According to Grace, her mother wasn’t there — she’d gone to Melbourne for a few days with her new boyfriend.”
“And she came home to an empty house.”
“Yep.”
“Wow.” Bea shook her head. “I hope the visit goes okay. It sounds like it could get a bit heated.”
Aidan gulped down another mouthful of coffee, then stood to his feet. “I’ve got to get going. I don’t want to leave Grace alone for too long.”
“Understandable,” Bea said, following him to the door.
“Would you come and help me manage Kelly’s visit? I think it would all go a bit smoother if you were there. You’re so good with people, and you could help me deal with it all. I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for her in a few weeks’ time. She’s staying in town and coming over for the evening.”
Bea’s head spun. She wanted to be by his side during the hard times, but wasn’t sure how her presence would improve what was likely to already be a volatile situation. Was it too much to expect of her, since they were taking time apart? She’d do the same for any one of her friends. And, if he wanted her there, she’d go. “I’m happy to come. How about I arrive early and cook dinner for you? That way, you can focus entirely on your daughter.”
He sighed with relief. “Would you? That would be lifesaving. The only thing I know how to cook for guests is fish with slices of lemon.”
As he walked away, Bea wondered why she’d signed up to help her ex-boyfriend entertain his ex-girlfriend. The tangled web was making her head spin. But he was also her friend and she cared about him and his relationship with his newly discovered daughter. If she could help ease some of his anxiety, she would. Besides, it gave her a chance to show off her culinary skills and size up Grace’s mother.
Eleven
Five a.m. on a Saturday morning was inhuman. Bea rolled over in bed and slapped haphazardly at the bedside table to get the old-fashioned alarm clock to stop beeping. She groaned and covered her face with the end of her pillow. Why had she agreed to go fishing at the crack of dawn? Most sane people would be fast asleep in their beds for hours yet. Especially people who had just started a new business in their mid-forties and had every single muscle in their body aching. Those people deserved rest. They were owed rest.
With a sigh, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and sat up, yawning immediately. If she didn’t get up now, she’d go right back to sleep and wouldn’t be ready for Betsy when she came. Still angry at herself for agreeing to do anything that involved her poor, bruised body being wakened so early on a weekend, she padded into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Instead of helping, that only made things worse. Now she was wet and aggravated.
She was dressed, but still sipping her first coffee in her travel mug when Betsy pulled up outside the cottage in her old pink panel van. Bea trudged through the yard with her father’s fishing pole over one shoulder and his tackle box in the other hand. She yanked the van door open. It screeched, and she yawned as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“Good morning.” Betsy was horribly chipper.
“Yeah.” Bea waved a hand. She yawned again.
“Not a morning person?”
“Definitely not. And I’m sore all over from being in the café for three days straight. You know you’re getting old when you work on your feet all day for the first time in decades — you feel every single moment of it in your body.”
Betsy chuckled as she pushed the vehicle into gear and accelerated back up the hill. “Don’t I know it.”
