of the rich and fabulous, she thought, knocking on her mother’s door.
A moment later, it opened. Charmaine stood on the threshold and Addie blinked back Skip Dalton’s image.
“Hey, Mom.” She stepped into the familiar entranceway with its cabbage-rose mat and wooden bar of coat hooks on the wall. The scent of chocolate-chip cookies permeated the air; grandma and granddaughter had been busy the past hour. “How’s my baby?”
“Fine.” Closing the door, Charmaine scrutinized Addie’s face.
“You look as if you’ve seen your father’s ghost.”
“I wish.” She moved down the tiny hallway and into the living quarters where Michaela crawled under a blue blanket held in place by several books between the sofa and coffee table. Three Barbies and a Ken lay on the carpet near the “house” entrance. Addie tugged gently on her daughter’s leg. “Hey, button. Ready for home?”
Michaela peeked from under the coverlet. “C-c-can I s-s-stay?” Brown eyes pleading, she crouched farther under the blanket tent. Addie understood. Her child had built the house and now wanted playtime.
Kneeling on the floor, she took her daughter’s hands. “Speak slowly, honey.”
“Can…I…stay?”
“Gram has some stuff to do this afternoon, Michaela.” Addie wasn’t sure of her mother’s commitments, but she needed to feel the security of her own house. She needed to know that her world wasn’t about to turn upside down now that Skip Dalton was back.
Michaela pouted. “But…I want…to…play.”
“I know, button. Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” Addie held out a hand, signaling the matter was done.
The child gathered the dolls into her pink knapsack and climbed to her feet. “’B-bye, Gram.”
Charmaine tucked a packet of cookies into her granddaughter’s small hand. “These are for you, but Mom will give you permission when you can have one.”
“’Kay.”
She kissed Michaela’s hair. “See you later, darlin’.”
As Addie ushered her daughter out of the house, Charmaine whispered, “What happened at Harry’s retirement party that’s got you in a dither?”
“Nothing. The new coach was introduced and Harry got the token plaque and gold watch. End of story.”
“Was Skip Dalton there?”
Addie turned to Charmaine as Michaela scrambled into the truck. “Don’t act as if you didn’t know, Mom. The paper carried the announcement twice.”
Charmaine’s eyes narrowed. “Did you talk to him?”
“No.”
“But you saw him.”
“I saw him.”
Questions burned in Charmaine’s eyes. What did he look like? Is he still handsome? Were people impressed? Has he changed? Ten thousand questions that meant nothing—and everything.
“I have to go.” Addie moved down the steps.
“Addie…Your father didn’t mean for you to be so hurt over…it.”
It. A tiny word for the life-changing events that occurred the second Cyril Wilson began brainwashing his daughter to give up the man she loved, and then later to give up their baby.
She turned, faced her mother. “Do not go there, Mom. I know why Dad pushed so hard. He didn’t want his precious daughter dragged into the trailer trash bin.”
Charmaine’s eyes widened, her mouth fell open. “Oh, Addie. That wasn’t it at all. He wanted you to have a chance, he wanted—”
“Exactly. He wanted. Whatever he wanted he got.”
Her mother came down the steps. “That’s just not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Your father did what he thought was best—”
“For who? Me? You? Our family? Don’t kid yourself. Dad was into saving face in this town. You know it, I know it. Lee and Kat know it. Everyone knows except you. When are you going to own up to that fact?”
“You’re letting Skip get to you, Adelina, and he’s not worth it.”
Addie scoffed a laugh. “He must be worth something. At one time he was the best quarterback in the league.”
Her mother cast a sideways glance. Guilt probably. Well, Addie no longer cared how Charmaine felt. Throughout the past decade she’d grown a prickly spine, one Dempsey had walked into a time or two.
“Were your sisters there?” her mother asked.
“I didn’t see them. I left the second Coach got his gold watch.”
Charmaine sighed.
“What? Did you expect me to hang around, bump into Skip and then throw out a welcome mat?” Her eyes narrowed. “God, Mother. You did.” Addie opened the truck’s door. She couldn’t get away from this conversation fast enough.
“You’ll be teaching at the same school,” Charmaine pointed out.
“Which I do not look forward to.”
“Why don’t you try breaking the ice first? Maybe talking to him will help with the issues you’ve kept inside.”
“Issues? When Dad pushed me to sign those papers, I wanted to die. Die, do you understand?” Issues, indeed.
“M-M-Mommy,” Michaela called anxiously from inside the truck.
“Look, I’ll see you later.”
Charmaine hurried forward. “What’re you going to do about—”
“Absolutely nothing. The man means zilch to me.” She got in, turned the ignition—and left her mother in the driveway.
Nothing, zilch, nada. Remember that, Addie.
Skip Dalton was a pebble in the road of her life. Easily kicked aside. Then why are you so annoyed? And worried.
Chapter Two
The following Monday, Skip drove his Toyota pickup down the wooded driveway leading to his new home and parked beside his Prius. Yesterday, the movers had brought all the furniture; today he and Becky would arrange and unpack the boxes.
Standing in the morning sunshine, he grinned across the truck’s hood. “Well, Bean. This is it. This is home now.” Skip hoped the girl would like the house, the island, the school she’d be attending after the Labor Day weekend in a few weeks. He watched her gaze at the structure gleaming in the morning light, her mouth slightly open, eyes as round as pizzas.
“It’s amazing. I’ve never been in a house this big. Is it just for us?”
“Just us.” For now. He couldn’t predict the future, but he hoped he and the lady across the road could eventually become friends for Becky’s sake. After that…who knew?
“Look,” he said, embarrassed suddenly by her awe. It was, after all, just a house. One of three he owned, and not the biggest. “If you want to scout around, I’ll start inside. Come in when you’re ready.”
Her expression was grateful. “I’d like that. It’s so quiet here. I never realized it, but I like the sound of…”
“Nature?”
“Yeah.” The word blew out on a little huff as she observed an American goldfinch pick at the bark of an old Garry oak in the front yard.
Skip smiled. “The island may be small, honey, and a good portion may have burned to ashes in 1892, but it’s