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“Thelma, is everything okay?”
“I need to get out of Seattle. I need some time away. I’m exhausted.”
His hands land on my upper arms as he keeps me an arm’s length away, studying my face carefully.
“Of course. Where did you have in mind?”
“Ocean Shores.”
Dad blows out a breath, nodding as he tugs me into a tight hug.
“Of course. I’ll let everyone know you’re using the house.”
“I don’t want company,” I say into his chest, his shirt and tie muffling my words. He sighs, his chin brushing the top of my head as he nods.
“I understand. They’ll know it’s strictly no contact.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Any time, munchkin.”
I smile, praying no more tears slip out at the use of my childhood nickname. I haven’t been called that in a long time. Blowing out a breath, Dad steps back, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“Text when you arrive so I know you got there safe.”
“I will, thanks, Dad.”
As I walk out of his office, he nods, Grady silently trailing me to the car. I give the driver the address, settling back with my legs drawn up on the leather seat, staring out the window as we slowly leave Seattle.
It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Ocean Shores from the city, but I don’t want to fall apart in the car. I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery flash by.
I’ve made this trip many times in my life. The family has a vacation home at Ocean Shores. We all took turns staying there. Sometimes we stayed there at the same time as others. It was always a nice getaway from the city.
I haven’t come as much recently. There was a girls’ weekend with Holly and a family holiday with Artie, Holly, and Ben, but mainly it gets used by the parents, our grandparents, or sometimes the boys come out here for a weekend of fishing and things – which I’ve always thought was a code for drinking.
The loose gravel of the driveway crunches as the car pulls off the road, parking in front of the blue clapboard-sided house. Fumbling with my bag, I retrieve the keys Dad gave me, hitting the beeper so the garage opens.
“Stay here, Thelma,” Grady orders, sliding out of the car before I can argue.
I wait silently with the driver for Grady to check outside the house and thoroughly search inside. It takes him almost an hour before he reappears at the window.
“It’s clear. You can come in.”
Thank goodness for that. I need to pee. I grab my suitcase – Grady has made clear he is a bodyguard, not a porter – and lug it into the house. It’s a little more difficult to drag it up the narrow, spiral feature staircase between the living and kitchen areas, but I manage.
There’s a lovely ensuited bedroom downstairs, but that’s mainly used by the grandparents, who can’t manage the stairs. The view is better the higher you go. I intend to go right to the top.
Rolling along the pinewood landing, I bump my suitcase up the wider, straight wooden staircase to the third level, ignoring the four bedrooms on the second floor.
Leaving my suitcase at the end of the bed, I open the curtains, looking out over the water. The house doesn’t look over the beach. Rather it looks over Duck Lake, with its own pier. There is a yacht, but it’s kept at the mariner until someone collects it to bring it here. Usually, Dad and the uncles or the boys. It doesn’t fit into the boat garage attached to the house.
Turning away from the window, I kick off my shoes, lift the comforter, and crawl into the bed. Tears leak out of my eyes as I crawl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest until I drift off. This is the first proper,quietsleep I have had in too long. I really need it.
Chapter 16
JIMMY
I shouldn’t be here. I should be up in my office, reviewing the year-to-date financials and deciding if we should start utilizing the pool for more classes – like water-based tai chi. But I’m not.
