Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) (37 page)

Will nodded. What else could he say? “I’ll think about it.”

Annie grabbed the
phone on the first ring. “Grace?”

“Hey, Annie.” Grace was short of breath, as if she’d been running. “I have news.”

“Where are you?”

“On the hill, by the Capitol. It’s murder in heels. Hang on.”

Annie could hear horns honking, traffic whizzing past.

“Sorry. I’m back.”

“Are you walking home?”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “From the bar. I just had drinks with two of Blake’s old fraternity brothers.”

Annie sat up on the sofa. “You’re kidding?”

“You’d be amazed at how much information you can find on an alumni website.”

Annie stood and tiptoed across the living room, peeking in at Taylor to make sure she was still sleeping. Careful not to wake her, she crept down the stairs to the café. “How’d you get them to meet you?”

“I pretended to be a member of one of the sororities they used to party with. We all got a good laugh about the fact that they couldn’t remember me. Then we each ordered a Hurricane, for old times’ sake.”

“Wait,” Annie cut in, concerned. “How drunk are you right now? Should you be walking home alone?”

Grace laughed, brushing her off. “I’m fine. I only drank a quarter of mine. Oldest trick in the book. Anyway, after we caught up with each other, we started gossiping about all our old friends.”

Annie pulled out a chair at the closest table, sinking into it. “Did they have anything to say about Blake?”

“They had all kinds of things to say about Blake,” Grace said. “Turns out, he owes them money—a lot of money.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Blake has plenty of money.”

“Maybe he did when you knew him before, but he doesn’t anymore. According to the two guys I met with tonight, he has a serious gambling problem and he’s up to his ears in debt. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars, Annie.”

“Oh my God.”

“Tell me about it. But that’s not all. Apparently, his father got wind of it and he’s threatened to cut him off if he doesn’t shape up. He sent him up here to close the deal with the inn, to prove he cared enough about the company for his father to give him another chance.”

“This is unbelievable,” Annie breathed. “But what does Blake want with me and Taylor if he doesn’t have any money? It’s not like we’d be able to help him pay off any of his debts.”

“His mother wants a grandchild.”

“What?”

“Apparently, she’s been after him for months to get married again and settle down. She wants a little girl to dote on.”

“Taylor,” Annie breathed.

“Yep.”

Annie stared out the window, at the wind chimes spinning in the wind. “When he found out Taylor was his child, he thought he could close the deal with the inn, and get a wife and a child at the same time—all so his parents wouldn’t cut him off.”

“Exactly,” Grace said. “But you know what really pisses me off?”

“There’s more?”

“Oh, there’s more,” Grace said. “I made a few calls to the management team at Morningstar this afternoon. Every staff member assured me they have no plans to move into the eco-resort business.”

“I knew it.” Annie said bitterly. Grace had told her about the eco-resort when they’d spoken on the phone a few hours ago. Grace had found out from Ryan, who’d called his sister that morning to fill her in on the news. As soon as Annie had heard why Will had agreed to sell, she’d known Blake had made it up. But she hadn’t had any proof until now.

“I’ve been trying to call Will ever since I found out,” Grace said. “Ryan’s been trying to call him. Becca’s been trying to call him. He won’t answer any of our calls.”

“Della and Joe have been trying to reach him all day, and he won’t answer any of their calls either,” Annie said. “He’s probably in the air by now, but what if he won’t listen to any of the messages when he lands? If he won’t pick up his phone, how are we going to stop him?”

“Someone’s going to need to do something drastic.”

“Like what?” Annie asked.

“Like get on a plane and go after him.”

Annie went very still.

“Do you love him?” Grace asked.

“What?”

“Do you love him?” Grace asked again.

Annie’s heart began to pound. What was the point in denying it anymore? “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I can’t get on a plane right now, Grace. I can’t leave Taylor. Not after what happened this morning.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Annie jumped at the knock on the door. Rising slowly, she spotted Della, Joe, Becca and Ryan through the glass. “Grace?” She waved them in. “What’s going on?”

Becca walked into the café, holding out her hand for the phone. “Is that Grace?”

Annie nodded.

Becca took the phone. “Hi…yes… We’re here. It’s all set. Right…okay…see you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone and pulled an envelope out of her pocket, handing it to Annie. “We got you a seat on the first flight out of BWI tomorrow morning.”

Annie stared at the envelope. “I’m the last person he wants to see right now.”

“You’re wrong,” Della said, taking the envelope from Becca and putting it in Annie’s hand. “You’re the only one who can change his mind, Annie. I know you’re worried about leaving Taylor, but Joe and I will watch her. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

“What about the hunters?” Annie protested. “What if more guns go off? What if she needs me?”

Behind Della, Joe cleared his throat. “I talked to most of the local guides today. They agreed to steer clear of the area, just for the weekend.”

“Why would they agree to something like that?”

Joe shrugged. “Most of them owed me a favor.”

Annie gaped at him. Did every person in this county owe Della and Joe a favor? Looking back down at the envelope, Annie shook her head. “If I do this, I’ll have to close down the café for the weekend.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Ryan said, dipping his hands in his pockets. “Becca and I are going to cover for you.”

Annie looked up at Ryan. “You’re going to cover for me?”

He smiled. “I waited tables at Rusty’s for two summers when I was in high school. As long as you can give me a crash course in how to work that espresso machine tonight, we should be good to go.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” Becca urged.

At the sound of a child’s footsteps padding down the steps, they all turned. Taylor was wearing her pink flannel pajamas, with a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Riley wagged her tail when she saw the crowd gathered in the café.

Taylor paused at the bottom of the stairs, blinking up at them. “What’s going on?”

Della walked over to her. “How would you like to spend the next couple of nights with Joe and me? We could have a slumber party and stay up late watching movies and eating ice cream.”

Taylor looked over at Annie. “Are you going away?”

Della brushed a hand over Taylor’s hair. “She’s going to see Will.”

Taylor hugged her blanket tighter. “Will’s gone?”

Annie nodded.

Taylor gazed up at Annie, her eyes widening. “Are you going to California to bring him back?”

Annie swallowed. She was going to California to convince him not to sell the inn. She didn’t know if she had the power to bring him back. “I don’t know, sweetie.”

Taylor walked over, tugging on Annie’s hand. “You have to go get him and bring him back.”

Annie looked over at Della, who was blinking back tears. Taking a deep breath, Annie lifted Taylor up and set her on her hip. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I promise I’ll try.”

Della walked over, putting her arms around both of them. “Bring him back, Annie,” she whispered. “Bring him home.”

W
ill parked on a side street off Orange Ave in Coronado, a few blocks away from the ocean. Normally, he would have looked forward to meeting his teammates at McP’s Irish Pub—one of the popular SEAL hangouts close to the base. He would have enjoyed watching the younger guys hit on the women who hung at the bar specifically to meet Navy SEALs. Hell, he probably would have ended up hitting on one himself before the night was over.

The rest of the guys on his team, the ones with families, had gone home to spend the evening with their wives and children.

For the first time in his life, he envied them.

A warm breeze blew in from the Pacific and he turned his gaze toward the beach. Slipping his sunglasses on, he followed the sound of crashing surf to the stretch of white sand in front of the Hotel del Coronado. He’d spent the day on the base, getting briefed on the mission to gather intelligence on an Al Qaeda training camp in Yemen, getting supplies ready, checking and double checking his gear, touching base with each member of the team to make sure they were mentally prepared to leave first thing in the morning.

But the real question was: was
he
prepared to leave?

Stepping onto the beach, he took in the familiar scene: women lounging in bikinis, dogs chasing tennis balls through the surf, teenagers catching waves on their boogie boards, parents helping children build elaborate sandcastles that would be washed away by morning.

Reaching into his pocket, his fingers brushed unconsciously over the yellow ribbon his sister had given him so many years ago. A few hundred yards down the beach, a BUD/S trainer was shouting at the newest class of SEALs. Thirty guys had dropped to the sand, counting out a series of push-ups before scrambling to their feet and resuming their evening run.

When he’d first joined the SEALs, he’d been so focused on going after the people who’d killed his mother and sister that nothing else had mattered. Nothing any of the trainers could have said would have intimidated him or tempted him to quit. Most of the guys in his class had been equally driven, with 9/11 still fresh in their minds. They’d all been desperate to get out there, to hunt down the terrorists who’d attacked them at home.

But none of them had expected the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to last over ten years. None of them could have predicted the effect those two wars would have on over two million returning service men and women back home now and struggling with how to deal with what they’d experienced.

He’d like to think they’d made the world safer. They’d captured Saddam Hussein and killed Osama Bin Laden, but there were still plenty of terrorists actively recruiting, forming cells, planning senseless attacks on innocent people. The War on Terror wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

A few yards in front of him, a little girl in a pink dress was scooping sand into a plastic bucket. Her father was digging a mote around her sandcastle, and she squealed every time it filled with water.

Slipping the knotted ribbon out of his pocket, he held it in his palm. It was faded now, stained with dirt and blood, unraveling at the seams. He wondered what his sister would say if she could see him today. Would she be happy with the path he’d chosen? Would she be happy he’d spent the past ten years avenging her death?

What would his mother say if she found out he’d just walked away from the first woman he’d ever truly loved?