The Sweetheart Secret (21 page)

A few minutes later, Daisy had spread the table with a bright red tablecloth, added a pile of business cards, some brochures Emma had designed and run off at a local copy shop, and flanked it all with a collage of photos of the Hideaway Inn that Aunt Clara had sent to the girls. Daisy reached into her bag and pulled out a few other items, then set them up on the right side of the table, arranging and rearranging until she was satisfied with the setup.

“Hey, great marketing idea,” Emma said. Her cousin had her hair down today, long dark brown waves curling over the straps of her pink sundress. “Makes me want to head there right now for a weekend away. And I've been there a thousand times.”

Daisy grinned. “You think so? I wasn't so sure about the satin sheet set.”

“It says romance and getaway, all in one.” Emma ran a hand over the soft fabric, then danced a touch across the twin champagne glasses and bottle of Asti. “It's really romantic.”

Emma's voice sounded sad and lonely. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Just fine.” Emma shrugged. “Just thinking it's about time I headed home.”

“Already? But I love having you here. If Roger's busy at school every day, why not stay? Take a nice long solo vacation.” Daisy adjusted the wine bottle, and laid a red rose across the top of the sheets. A few scattered paper red hearts added a little more romance to the tableau. Hopefully it was enough to draw in some customers, and spread the word that the Hideaway was reopening.

Emma wrapped her arms around her chest and looked out over the bustling park. “Maybe I will. But just a few more days. Okay?”

“I'll take it.”

“If I stay, it doesn't make sense to keep paying to stay at the horrible motel. Maybe I can move into the inn on Monday. Nick got one of the bedrooms done, and the upstairs bath is all repaired. It gives the place a little security, too.”

“That's a fabulous idea,” Daisy said.

“If you ever get tired of staying with Colt, you could join me. Just like old times.” Emma smiled. “I've missed that.”

“Me too.” Daisy glanced at the park entrance, as if just mentioning his name would make Colt appear, but he wasn't among the people she saw.

“And maybe then you'd stop looking like someone ran over your puppy every time his name comes up.”

Daisy jerked her attention back to Emma. “I do not.”

Emma arched a brow.

“It's just tough,” Daisy said with a sigh, “living under the same roof with a man you used to love.”

“Yeah, that's something I know well,” Emma said softly.

Before Daisy could ask Emma what she meant, Olivia strode up to the table. “I'm so happy you got the brochures done in time,” she said, picking one up. “Now I can show everyone the awesome place where we are holding our wedding. Wow, these are fantastic photos.”

“Emma took them.” Daisy gestured toward her cousin, who had a shy smile on her face. Emma had always been an amazing photographer, but had never really seen her own talent. Maybe that was why she'd never fully made the leap into self-employment. “Emma is our resident Ansel Adams.”

“These are fabulous photos,” Olivia said. “Hey, if you're going to be in town, will you do the photography for my wedding? I want something like this, with a natural, homey feel. None of those staged, stiff, family portraits like everyone's doing a lineup with the bride and groom. I want our pictures to be relaxed and fun, like Luke and me. And the crazy family I'm joining.”

Emma glanced at Daisy. “I don't know my future plans, but I'll make sure I'm back in town to cover your wedding either way.”

Things were finally coming together. The renovations were on target, Emma was getting involved, and their first event was only a few weeks away.

Then why did this empty feeling linger in Daisy's chest? She shook it off, then refocused on Emma and Olivia, who were discussing possible shots for the wedding. “By the way, the renovations are right on target for your wedding,” Daisy said to Olivia. “We'll have the lobby open for a small reception and restrooms, stuff like that. But if it rains, I don't think we'll have the space for a big crowd.”

“That sounds perfect. And, no worries about a big crowd. Luke and I want a small gathering. If it was up to us, I think we'd just run off and elope, but Greta would never stand for that.” Olivia chuckled. “And I have to say, there is something about walking down an aisle in front of your friends and family that's nice.”

“I eloped, so I never got any of those big romantic, feel-good moments. I kinda wish I had a traditional wedding.” Daisy fiddled with one of the paper hearts. The wind caught it and blew it away. A sign? Or just a coincidence? “But we were in such a rush, we got married in a courthouse, in the middle of the day. Nothing fancy, nothing blue or old or whatever the saying is.”

Emma stood beside Daisy, mute. Odd. Emma was one of those girls who'd loved talking about weddings, watching wedding shows, debating bridal gown choices. Unlike Daisy, Emma had a romantic streak running deep in her veins.

“Well, if you ever get married again, you should have the ceremony at the Hideaway,” Olivia said. “I think it's going to be perfect for Luke and me. Since that wonderful place is part of your family history, it would be even more perfect for you and . . . you know”—Olivia lowered her voice and leaned in—“Doctor Harper, should you ever retie the knot.”

Daisy froze. Olivia knew, too? Of course, Luke was engaged to Olivia. He would have told her about Colt.

She didn't want to tell Olivia that she'd never gotten unmarried in the first place, and the chances of another marriage to Colt were slim to zero. The finalized loan papers were now in Daisy's hands, which eliminated Daisy's need to stay married to Colt.

And that, she knew, was what had tainted this sunny day ever since she woke up. For days, she'd avoided thinking about it, as if burying her head in the sand would change anything. Instead of being relieved that she would finally be free of the bond to a man who had broken her heart, the thought saddened her. It wasn't just about letting go of Colt forever, but more about a bone-deep craving in Daisy for the very thing she'd gone her whole life thinking she didn't want.

Family. Home. A place in the world, all her own. A place where she could set down roots, make memories, build lifetime bonds.

The question was whether she was brave enough to dive in and embrace that kind of life on her own. Especially a life where Colt would be living just down the beach.

Mike Stark entered the park, hand in hand with a woman who could have been Olivia's twin. Two young girls skipped ahead of them, beelining for the shelter dogs sitting in a large pen to the right of the table set up for adoptions. The littlest girl darted to the table next door, offering up a winsome smile, which earned her a cookie from the ladies representing the Rescue Bay Bakery.

“Those adorable girls are my nieces,” Olivia said, with clear love in her voice. “Or will be, once Mike and Diana get married. The older one is Jenny. I swear, she's going to grow up to be a vet. She's at the shelter and Diana's practice more often than I am. The little one is Ellie. She's a firecracker, but she has pretty much everyone in this town wrapped around her little finger.”

The whole scene was so . . . domestic. So ordinary. Like something out of a TV show. Bone-deep envy filled Daisy. All her life, she'd said she was glad to be single, on her own, no one relying on her or wanting her to make dinner. But now, just watching Mike and Diana with Jenny and Ellie, Daisy wondered—

What if she had stayed with Colt? Would they have two kids like Mike and Diana? Would they be holding hands as they walked through the park? Splitting cookies with each other and sharing laughs?

Good Lord, what was wrong with her? She kept running hot and cold—one foot turned toward the Betty Crocker world that surrounded her, another stepping outside the door, ready to run like a rabbit back to the no-commitment world she had left in New Orleans.

Olivia noticed a few people heading for Daisy's table. “I'll let you get back to selling. Good luck, Daisy.” Olivia reached over and gave Daisy a quick hug, then hurried off to the Rescue Bay Shelter table.

Daisy drew in a sharp breath, surprised at the tears such a simple gesture could bring to her eyes. Every time she convinced herself she wasn't cut out for this home and hearth world, something like a hug from a person she barely knew to a few kind words of advice from a cantankerous old man brought her back around again.

As the morning wore on, Daisy and Emma shifted into work mode, tag-teaming to answer the questions about the Hideaway Inn and the status of its renovation from the people who stopped by the table. There was a general consensus of support for the B&B's return to Rescue Bay, which Daisy took as a good sign for the road ahead. That, and the way Emma joked and smiled with the visitors to the table. For a little while there, Emma was her old affable, warm self, which told Daisy she'd made the right choice in bringing Emma here. Maybe with enough time in Rescue Bay, Emma would ease whatever heartache she held inside.

And maybe Daisy would, too. Her attention kept straying to the park entrance, scanning the people milling about for Colt's tall frame and wide smile. He hadn't arrived, hadn't texted or called. Not a word.

A little after eleven, there was a lull in activity so Emma took a break for lunch, and Greta came over to Daisy's table, handing her a napkin and a frosted cookie, as if she'd read Daisy's mind and knew she was long overdue for a sugar rush. “Looks like this town is growing on you,” Greta said. “You fit this place like a nut with a bolt. I think you should plan on settling in here for a good long time. Like forever.”

Perhaps. But staying here, when Colt was living just a few streets away, would be the epitome of painful. “I don't know. We'll see what the future brings.”

Greta nodded toward the clipboard holding a list of potential customers for the Hideaway Inn. “Looks to me like the future's bringing some bright prospects your way. Be a shame not to see where they lead you.”

As more people began wandering toward the table, Greta moved away, heading over to chat with Esther and Pauline, who were standing beside a table for a craft store. Esther had an
I HEART KNITTING
bag slung over her shoulder, with a big thick brown knitted thing sticking out of the top and two giant knitting needles stuck into the mass of yarn, like a voodoo doll. Daisy saw Pauline send a wave in Earl's direction. He gave her a nod, then went back to his conversation with Olivia at the shelter's table. But his gaze kept straying to Pauline, even if he pretended to be looking elsewhere.

“Wow. The Hideaway Inn.” A middle-aged woman came over to the table, picked up one of Daisy's business cards, flipped it over, then glanced up at Daisy. “I remember that place.”

Daisy put on a bright smile. “We're renovating and hoping to reopen in a few months. So if you're interested in booking a weekend getaway or a—”

The woman glanced at the card again. Then up at Daisy. When their gazes connected a second time, a flicker of recognition ran through Daisy.

“Wait. Daisy Barton? I remember you.” The lady pointed. “You're that girl.”

That girl? She tried to place the other woman, but drew a blank. “Uh, I'm not sure who you mean, but I'm—”

“The girl who had that party in that abandoned house. Only it wasn't abandoned. Just vacant. Temporarily.”

Then Daisy remembered. The party that had exploded. She'd wanted just a quick, end of summer celebration with the friends she'd made in Rescue Bay. And Colt. But the party, like parties were apt to do, became a monster of its own. She'd chosen that place because someone had told her it was empty. Sold, foreclosed, something. Daisy had thought no one would care if they had a party. Back then, Daisy hadn't thought much about consequences or damages—she'd wanted a party and she'd had one, figuring she'd deal with the mess later.

“A hundred teenagers in my house, spilling beer and alcohol everywhere,” the woman went on, “trashing my pool and tearing up my lawn. Took me three years to get those tire tracks totally filled in, and a few thousand hours of hard work to fix the damage to my house. Not to mention what it cost me to repair the damage to the walls, the carpets.”

The police had been called, the owner—Jane Mellon, a snowbird living in Indiana or Iowa or something—had driven down the day after the party, showed up at the Hideaway Inn, and ranted at Daisy for a solid thirty minutes. At the time, Daisy remembered being defiant and disrespectful, more interested in protecting her friends from trouble than making amends.

Now Daisy's face heated. She swallowed, and wished the space would open up and help her disappear. She wasn't that teenager anymore, but she doubted Jane would see that. Nor could Daisy blame her for still being angry. If the roles were reversed, Daisy would have been raising the roof. “I'm very sorry, Mrs. Mellon. I was young and stupid and truly didn't mean to do any of that.” Daisy wished she had better words to express her regret, to explain how idiotic and selfish she had been back then. Everything she said felt . . . inadequate. “It just got out of hand.”

“Yeah, it always does, doesn't it? Thank God your family at least paid for the damages.”

“My . . . family?”

Jane shrugged. “Your mother dropped off a check one day. Said she was taking you out of town that afternoon. She apologized up and down, which is far more than you did.”

Willow had paid for the damage that Daisy had done? No wonder she'd yanked Daisy out of Rescue Bay so quickly, zipping her back up to Jacksonville. Daisy's mother had never said a word, never a condemnation or a lengthy lecture. Nothing. Maybe her mother hadn't been as uninvolved or self-absorbed as Daisy had thought.