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She lifted the photograph out of the box, holding it up in the light. It was faded, but still clear. Her mom standing outside the Beach Café, wearing a tank and a pair of shorts. You couldn’t have placed her by the cut of her clothes alone – that kind of fashion was timeless. But Ally knew it must have been taken at least twenty years ago. Before her mom and dad split up.
Damn it, she was going to cry. And Ally rarely cried. Not when her father left. Not during the time she was trying to keep this place going and it felt like she was pushing huge
rocks up a mountain. Crying meant people looked at you and asked questions. It was better to remain impassive.
She dropped her head and took a deep breath. Holding it for a moment until the emotions ebbed away, she looked back up at him.
“Can I have these?”
“Of course.” He looked bemused. “They’re yours.”
She nodded but didn’t reply. Didn’t trust herself to.
“You should take these home. It’s your day off, after all.” His voice was gentle, as if he realized the impact of the photos. “You need your rest the same as everybody else.”
“We have a late delivery tonight,” Ally reminded him. “I should be here for that.”
“I have it covered.”
“And it’s Tuesday. The historical society will be coming at four,” she pointed out.
“I know. I’ll have Jeff make some extra pastries.”
“And don’t forget Brad has a doctor’s appointment.” She frowned. “Are you sure you’ve got enough staff without me?”
“Go home, Ally.” His smile was gentle. She felt a flush of warmth rush through her.
“I will. But call me if you—”
“Home.” His voice was firmer this time.
“Okay, okay.” If her arms had been free she would have thrown them up in surrender. “I’m going already. You don’t have to throw me out of the door.”
“I will if I have to,” he warned, putting his hand on the small of her back, the pressure of his palm through her shirt sending a shiver up her spine. “Have a good day off and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Yes he would. And damn if she wasn’t looking forward to it already.
8
Ally shook her head and put the lid back on the photographs, carrying the box to her closet where she lifted it onto a shelf. She’d been sorting through them ever since she’d gotten home from the coffee shop, and her head was full of the memories and emotions they’d captured so perfectly.
Photographs of her mother, her father, of Lorne looking so much younger than she ever remembered him being. Then there were ones of Ally, ranging from when she was a baby cradled in her father’s arms, right up to when she was a pre-teen with crooked teeth begging out for orthodontic treatment. They’d brought back memories of things she’d tried long to forget. Christmases spent with both her parents, summers lying on the sand with her mom. For a few hours she hadn’t felt so alone any more.
But she was. Out of the three of them, she was the only one left in Angel Sands, and that thought sent a pang straight through her. Until her father had left town she’d still had something – someone – to cling onto. And right now, sitting in her empty condo as an unseasonal rain spattered against her window, she’d never felt more alone.
She laid the picture back on top of the others she’d piled up in the box. She wasn’t ready to do anything with them yet – whether to catalogue them or put them in a fancy scrapbook the way she always planned to with photographs but never did. Instead she put the lid back on, hoping she could shut away the emotions she was feeling along with the photos.
She’d just slid the box into a shelf in her living room when her cellphone started to buzz. As she walked over to grab it she checked her watch. Three o’clock. It was unlikely to be her friends – Ember would be working and Brooke would be at college. It was more likely to be Nate asking about the historical society.
But when she picked her phone up the screen showed an out of area number. Ally slid her finger to accept the call.
“Hello?” she asked, still a little unsure as to who was calling, but thinking it might be Riley since the area code was the same as Nate’s. Yep, she’d given the girl her number, but Riley had made no bones about the fact she wasn’t intending to use it.
She heard a muffled voice, followed by some others.
“Riley, is that you?” Ally asked, raising her voice.
There was a laugh and some stomping, before the voices became a bit clearer. Wherever it was, wherever Riley was, she must have found some better reception.
