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“So is vitamin D deficiency. Wear sunscreen and a hat,” he said, tossing her a baseball cap that said STEM on it. “Come on, you have to get ready for soccer.”
“Can I just finish this code?” She folded her hands in a pleading motion, and he almost caved. Being a single dad, he was always struggling to find that balance between being a parent and allowing her independence. The first year after Kelly died had been the hardest. He found himself giving in to everything and anything Marissa wanted to compensate for her tragic loss, but he quickly realized that setting boundaries was in the little girl’s best interests. Or at least that was what all the parenting books Carmen kept giving him said.
“No.”
“Dad! It’s important.”
“So is movement and fun and seeing friends.”
“I hate soccer,” she said with a pout, but she reached under a pile of clothing—dirty or clean or a mix of both, he wasn’t sure—and retrieved her soccer cleats.
“It’s more fun when you actually try.”
Connecting with her had never been this difficult before. It didn’t seem that long ago when they had picnics in the backyard with her dolls or when pushing her on the swing was met with squeals of delight as she swung higher. Now she was into science and math and all this computer stuff he just did not get. He’d wrongfully assumed he’d have at least a few more easy years before Marissa’s teenage hormones made things challenging. After all, what did he know about teenage girls? If every discussion now was a challenge or a negotiation, what would it be like when he had an actual teenager to deal with?
She sulked as she tied the laces of her cleats and he flicked through the pile of clothes for her soccer jersey. Number 7. His old number when he’d played professionally. Now he wore whatever number the beer leagues gave out.
“Hey, um…did you give that camp any more thought?” she asked, trying to sound casual, but he heard the eagerness in her voice.
Marissa had been asking about the STEM summer camp since first learning about the science and technology program during spring break, when the school had hosted a free week-long session.
But that had been different. This two-week sleepaway camp cost $1,500 and was three hours away: $1,000 more and not local like the Girl Guides camp she would be attending in Blue Moon Bay next month.
He hesitated, looking at her hopeful face. “Still thinking about it.” Wes wasn’t at all comfortable with letting his nine-year-old go that far away from home that summer but right now he did not have the heart to break hers with the truth.
Chapter Three
Googling “wood rot” and seeing the photos of termites was all it took to have Sarah reconsidering her free accommodations at Dove’s Nest. The wood tunnels around the baseboards in the downstairs main bathroom looked like the perfect home for these insects, and they weren’t exactly the guests she wanted to share a B&B with. Sitting on the deck, she was about to call the local five-star hotel’s reservations desk when a car turned into the circular driveway.
She smiled for the first time that day, seeing her best friends, Jessica and Whitney, climbing out of Whitney’s banana-yellow Miata convertible. Whitney had bought the car a month ago, and it was perfect for the spirited, upbeat woman. No one would dare mention that it lacked a back seat for all the kids Whitney’s fiancé, Trent, insisted they wanted.
Sarah put her phone back in her pocket and met them at the top of the deck stairs. “I thought I wouldn’t see you guys until tomorrow,” she said, hugging them both at the same time. They had wanted to give her time with her family while they were still in town for her grandmother’s funeral, but seeing them now brought a rush of tears. Growing up, Jessica and Whitney had been more than friends; they were her sisters by heart. It was tough the last few days being in town and not seeing them, but they were here now, and she wasn’t sure if the tears were joy at seeing them or at finally being able to let go and grieve her grandmother. Maybe both.
“We couldn’t wait any longer,” Whitney said.
“And when we got your text that you’d inherited Dove’s Nest, we wanted to make sure you didn’t walk straight into the ocean,” Jessica said.
She didn’t admit that for a heartbeat or two, she had contemplated doing just that. “It’s tempting,” she said. “What’s with the bowling shirt?” Jessica’s shirt was white with bold red sleeves and a single red stripe down the front, with an embroidered logo on the left-hand side that readBay’s Singles.
“She joined a coed league,” Whitney said, the eye roll implied in her tone. “As if dart club and competitive ax throwing weren’t extracurricular activity enough.”
Jessica shot her a look. “It was supposed to be a singles team, but apparently, ‘single’ just meant ‘not married.’ So now I’m stuck carrying an awful team with two activelynot singlecouples and Bert Elliott.”
“The hardware store guy?” Bert had worked the paint counter for years. “Isn’t he married?”
“Recently separated. Again, not exactly single,” Jessica said as Sarah led the way to the outdoor seating on the side of the house. She wasn’t sure if the deck could hold all three of them without another hole-in-the-floor fiasco. The sun was getting low in the sky and the furniture on the patio was positioned around a stone fire pit. Despite needing a fresh coat of paint, the Adirondack chairs were in surprisingly good shape. Given what she had seen so far of the rest of the furniture in the B&B, the patio seemed the best option for a visit with her besties.
“You’d date a sixty-two-year-old man if he was?” Whitney asked Jessica, hanging her purse over the back of a chair and removing her gray suit jacket.
“Hey, Bert is a sweetheart, and he always makes sure I have a cold bottled water at each game. That’s about the most attention I’ve had from a man in a long time.”
“That’s just desperation talking.” Whitney rolled the sleeves of her silk blouse and undid the top button. Her golden, sun-kissed skin was enviable.
“Hey, if I date Bert, I could get Sarah a discount on paint,” Jessica said.
Sarah laughed. “Who said I was doing any painting? A sledgehammer might be useful, though.”
The familiar banter helped remind her of how much she’d really missed them. They kept in touch with weekly FaceTime chats, but when they were together like this, she realized how that barely seemed enough. They had all gone to school together since kindergarten, but they really became friends in the fifth grade when Jessica had started a “single child club.” The three of them had bonded over their joint disappointment that their parents hadn’t given them the courtesy of a sibling.
