Page 1 of Restored Dreams

1

Off-key melody

[Lily]

“Are you sure I should go? You don’t need me?”

My best friend for the past five years stares back at me with her chocolate eyes.

“If I say I will always need you, but you still have to go, will you finally leave?” She exaggerates her admonishment as though I’m a pain in the ass, which I can be at times. Ester Bankes came to work for me when I opened the bakery five years ago. Sassy mouthed with wild curls to match, my cappuccino-colored friend needed work. I could only offer her part-time work, but she stuck with me and turned into a full-time employee. It’s been a match made in heaven, or more so, through cupcakes. Because Cupcakes is more than my business—it’s my baby. My you-can-do-anything-you-set-your-mind-to dream. I take a deep breath of the sugary air around us and sigh.

“If you insist,” I tease.

“I do. I do. Now go.” Ester pushes on my arm, forcing me to move my feet toward the back door of our industrial baking center behind the storefront. I love this room, but I admit I need a break from it. After five long years of working my ass off, I’m finally showing a profit. It seems frivolous to take a vacation, but Ester demands it.

“Celebrate your success,” she encouraged.

I didn’t feel comfortable taking the tropical paradise singles-only vacation she proposed, so I settled on something smaller, low-key, and a little closer to home. The beach. I can’t wait to dip my toes in the sand and soak up a little sunshine. Obviously, I spend a ton of time indoors, but I like the outdoors. I balance life with yoga, preferably outside, but other than those sessions, it’s been a while since I’ve spent quality time in fresh air. Ester jokes I’ll turn into one of my cupcakes. Secretly, it’s a fear, and I work hard at eating right and exercising regularly to ensure I don’t become one of my tasty treats. I do love cupcakes, though.

Anyway, Ester further prodded the vacation idea by roping in my new friend, Midge, to the encouragement team. Midge even went so far as to find me a reasonable house at Ocean Beach in San Diego. I’ve never actually been to the seaside town, but she assured me it was quiet and reserved and just what I would need. A mini-break from my mini-cakes.

Midge is a new friend and the wife of Hank Paige, the brother of an old friend. I cringe at the label. I’ve never known what to call Brut, other than eventually a liar and a cheat. Twenty years later, I’m over the betrayal. I can forgive. Unfortunately, seeing Hank in my bakery a few months back brought an onslaught of forbidden memories. The old hurts still sting, but I push them away as I complete the drive down Highway 5.

You have reached your destination, the robotic voice on my phone’s GPS warns. Sigh. Relief blankets me as I park before the two-story structure. Every place looks the same in this strip of narrow beachside homes. When I exit my Jeep, the sound of the ocean rushes through my ears, and my blood rolls in sync. This is what I need. A celebration of dreams come true.

Forget that I’m alone at the party. Ester pushed the singles-only resort so I wouldn’t be, but I’d rather celebrate me by myself than try to hook up with a stranger. Not to mention, I’m not the hooking up type. I have trust issues that keep me alone, so I don’t do random anything. I’m in a better place with my single status. Party of one pleases me, I remind myself.

Entering the house, I spin, taking in the comfy couch, an oversized ottoman and easy chair, and the view. Ocean. Sand. Sunshine. Large glass doors lead to a partially covered deck. The layout is open concept complete with a wall of light wood cabinets, an island with a sink, and even an industrial stove. Standing in the kitchen area, I do a double take when I realize I can enjoy the view from there as well. I’m in heaven.

Racing up the stairs, I want to take a quick shower to wash off the drive through overheated LA and loosen my tense muscles after sitting in the car for three hours. Traffic prolonged the trip. The larger bedroom overlooks the ocean through French doors. Instead of your typical wood or iron railing, the balcony has glass panels, so nothing obstructs the breathtaking view. I open the doors wide to allow in the fresh air and sunshine heat. Heading for the bathroom, I find a deluxe, sort of hexagon-shaped shower stall in the corner with glass on three sides. I undress hastily, thrilled the only attire I’ll need for a week includes bathing suits and cover-ups. The rain-spray shower coats my body in luxurious warmth, and I purr as everything washes off me. No memories. No bakery. I’m singing one of my favorite songs about late love and promises when I think I hear a voice. I shake off the thought. A condition of being alone too often is an oversensitivity to sound.

Don’t breathe. Listen. I blow out a breath knowing I’m being silly. I rinse the shampoo from my shoulder-length hair and sing again. I’m off-key, about to hit the harmony when I hear the soft click of the shower door open. Spinning, I find white hair on top of a toned male body. Bright blue eyes roam my figure, and then I scream.

2

Life break

[Brut]

As I drive south on Highway 5, the coast comes into view on my right, and the weight of Los Angeles, the shop, and Chopper slowly drifts away like the waves on the shore. Then again, the Pacific Ocean is a mild tempest and thoughts of those waves set my heart pattering in a way I hardly recognize. I’m excited and still a little surprised at how all this happened…

“You’re sending me on vacation?” I stare at my younger brother and co-owner of Restored Dreams. The auto repair and body shop has been my business for nearly twenty years, and I don’t think I’ve ever had an official vacation.

“Yep. Give yourself some time off, Brut. I got this.” With Midge, his new wife, standing behind him, her light brown eyes beaming at me, I know my brother means it. He can handle the shop alone for a week.

“I wouldn’t know where to go. What to do.” I don’t know why I’m trying to talk myself out of this. I could use some time off. I’m tired. Plain and simple. I need a life break.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything.” The emphasis on the last word has me worried for the first time in this conversation. Midge steps forward, her excitement hardly contained as she hands me a padded manila envelope.

“We rented you a house at Ocean Beach. You can surf. Sleep. Anything. Just relax.” My head snaps up at the mention of surfing. It’s been a rare treat over the years. The coast is so close but just far enough away from Pasadena that I couldn’t overindulge. Not to mention, as a single father, I hardly had the freedom to head to the beach each day.

“I pulled your old board out of the garage. Sent it off to a shop to be cleaned and waxed.” Hank really has thought of everything, and my heart skips at the possibility. A vacation. I blink at Hank. He’s always been a good brother—a bit wayward and reckless but good with me and my son. I know part of his attentiveness comes from guilt. He hasn’t had an easy life, and I stood by him when the pieces crumbled. He thinks he owes me, but he doesn’t. He’s my kid brother, even at forty-three, and I love him. It’s that simple.

I turn the envelope over in my hand. Inside is a lease agreement for a week and a set of keys.

“I don’t know what to say.” I swallow the lump in my throat. This is too generous, and I’m still a bit shocked at the idea of getting away from this place. The garage was never my ideal employment, but with my son, Chopper, and then the death of Pop, it fell into my lap. Restoring cars was something I could do but wasn’t who I wanted to be.

“Just go. Have fun. Do you remember what that is?” Midge teases me. I like my brother’s woman. I might have joked I’d steal her from him if he didn’t quit being an ass, but I knew from the moment I met her, she would only be Hank’s. She looked at him the way I wanted someone to look at me. I had that once. I wish it had turned into something more, but it was so long ago it’s a distant memory.