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38
WILL
No more holes.
Well—one. The gaping hole I left in Hope’s heart. I tried at least. Some holes just can’t be mended.
But no more beyond that if I can help it.
The private investigator I hired to find my mom was happy to work on a new project for me—and I was even happier when he got me an address within the hour.
Terry’s house is just a few miles outside Newport and within walking distance of a boat club. When I pull into the gravel driveway, I’m met with a manicured lawn and a man I haven’t seen in nearly ten years, pruning overgrown hydrangeas. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, a far cry from the buttoned-up khaki wearer he’d been.
He peers into the car window. When I step out, the pleasant, neighborly expression gives way to something else. The shears fall from his hand as recognition registers on his face.
“Hey, Terry,” I say. “Nice place you got here.”
“What are you doing here, Will?” His voice is hard.
I raise my hands. “Sorry to drop in on you. I came to ask for your help. With the Inn. I know it’s a big ask, and you deserve your time, but you know the Inn better than anyone.”
The screen door pushes open, and a woman with strawberry-blonde hair emerges. She startles, her hand dropping protectively onto her round belly. “Dad, is someone here? Is that—”
“Lacey, can you go inside, please?” The question slips from between Terry’s gritted teeth.
Lacey glances at me, and then does as she’s told.
“I really don’t mean to intrude. I know you’re dealing with family things.”
“I am. It’s not a great time ...” Terry gestures toward the hydrangeas, as if that’s what’s keeping him busy and not the very pregnant daughter.
“I’m sure. I mean ... congratulations. You’re going to be a grandfather.” I take a step toward Terry, hand outstretched.
He stiffens and doesn’t take it.
I let my hand drop, dusting it along the side of my jeans. “I’ll keep this short then. My mom is back, and she needs a hand around the Inn. It’s too much for her, and I’m going back to LA. I don’t want to leave her alone again.”
“Sorry, Will. I don’t think I can go back right now.” Terry bends to grab the shears. His posture is too stiff, his words too stilted.
“I understand,” I say, glancing at the house, at the curtains, which are fluttering, hiding Lacey’s eavesdropping. “I’m sure my mother would work with you if you needed a different schedule. It’s not—”
“I said no.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
“Listen, Terry, you’ve been like family to us for as long as I can remember. If there’s anything I can do for you, you know I will. My mother too.”
He nods, and it’s a dismissal. Another hole that can’t be mended.
He steps back and knocks over a basket full of flowers.
I drop to my knees. “Let me help.”
“What about ‘no’ do you not understand?” His voice explodes across the manicured front lawn. A bird that was hiding in a tree takes flight.
“What?” I jolt upright, forced backward by the unexpected rage.
“I’ve asked you to leave, and I think it’s time that you do.” Terry’s eyes narrow. “I think your family has done enough.”
