Coming Home to Seashell Harbor, page 2
“Did someone say chocolate?” A weak voice emanated from the bed. Hadley took one look at her grandma and forced back tears again before going in for a hug.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re back.” Gran leveled her gaze with Hadley’s. “You’re thin and wan. But nothing we can’t fix.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Hadley said. “Worry about you.”
“Tony was here,” Gran said instead, a little groggily. “He told me to tell you hi.”
Hadley smiled for her grandmother’s sake, but secretly thought she’d like to tell him a few things too. However, hi was not high on the list.
“Hadley, I have to tell you something.” Gran took both of Hadley’s hands in hers. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Tony wants to buy my building.” Hadley started to speak but Gran shushed her. “You must promise not to judge him too harshly.”
Hadley pursed her lips before she said something upsetting, like How could you? Instead, she squeezed her grandmother’s hands. “Don’t worry, Gran. I’m going to be here all summer to help you with the business and to help you recover. You know I love the Palace just as much as you do.”
Gran pointed to the little table between her bed and the wall. “He left you something.”
Hadley’s gaze followed to where Gran pointed. No. It could not be. Hanging off the edge of the bedside table, right underneath the flowers her mom must have brought from her garden, was a sticky note, rippling slightly in the current from the air-conditioning.
A yellow sticky note.
Bile rose in her throat as she reached forward and snatched it.
Underneath the words, he’d scrawled his phone number. She calmly pocketed the note, but pure unmitigated anger made her crumple it into a little ball inside her pocket.
Just then, her parents walked in, along with Gran’s nurse and a tall guy in scrubs with a kind smile. “Hi, Mrs. Edwards,” he said. “I’m Nasir. I’ll be taking you down to surgery.”
“Let’s get this over with so I can dance the two-step again,” Gran said as the family all kissed her. Her voice was cheery, but Hadley detected a tinge of bravado. Just before she was wheeled out the door, she gave Hadley a wink and whispered, “Don’t forget the shake.”
As Hadley and her parents prepared to trek down to the surgical waiting room, her mom stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day already,” she said. “At some point I’ve got to run home and grab some overnight things.”
“I’d love to stay with her,” Hadley said. “I’ve already got all my stuff with me.” She glanced at the ugly beige chair in the corner. Not exactly the bed she’d planned on sleeping in, but it would do.
As she walked out of the room, her fingers brushed against her pants pocket, reminding her of the note. She pulled it out to analyze one last time, struggling to tamp down her anger.
Two things came to mind. One, Cam’s handwriting was just as bad as ever. And two, he was not getting Pooch Palace. Not now, not ever. She’d make certain of it.
Chapter 2
Cam’s in there, all right,” Hadley’s best friend Kit said the next morning. She stood with Hadley and their other best friend Darla across the street from Pooch Palace. “I see his vintage Mustang in the back lot.”
“I’m going to go in there and give him a piece of my mind.” Hadley tried to unball her fists and calm down. “Except I’m so angry I’m seeing splotches. I may not be responsible for my actions.”
“Maybe you should go home and take a nap first,” Darla said. Although she was petite with a cute blond pixie cut, she was tough as nails. And she never hesitated to say what she thought.
The WELCOME HOME, CAM banner was draped clear across Petunia Street over their heads, as flashy as the man it paid homage to.
“I’m glad your grandma’s surgery went well,” Darla said. “But I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
“Me too.” Worry squeezed Hadley’s abdomen tight. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself that it was sleep deprivation from spending the night curled up in that rock-hard chair beside her grandmother’s bed that was making her bad mood a whole lot worse.
“I’m sorry too,” Kit said. “But quit looking at the banner. You’re just punishing yourself.”
“The whole town is pretty excited Cam’s back,” Darla said. “I mean, he’s the most famous football player in the world.”
Kit shot Darla a look.
“He was definitely a jerk to Hadley a long time ago,” Darla rushed to amend. Then she added, in true Darla fashion, “But he’s still hot.”
“Was the most famous football player,” Kit said, shaking her head sadly. “Before he got his knee crushed.”
Darla gave Hadley a squeeze. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s fine,” Hadley said. “This is about my grandmother.” Who needed her. “I just wish she would’ve mentioned something to me if she were really thinking about retiring.”
She did not want her grandmother to feel forced to sell the business she’d poured her lifeblood into for the past thirty years, the one that she—and Hadley—loved with all their hearts.
“Maybe she didn’t want to trouble you because you’ve had a lot going on,” Kit said. Practical and nurturing, with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face, Kit had always been most like an understanding mom, even before she became one. Which Hadley desperately appreciated right now.
Kit took a second to roll a hair elastic from her wrist, bending over to gather up her still-damp mass of dark hair into a ponytail, a reminder to Hadley that both her friends were taking time from their busy mornings to support her.
“You’re here now.” Kit gave her a side hug. “You can make a difference now.”
Hadley flashed a grateful almost-smile at Kit, the optimist in their tight-knit group of three, her sisters-of-the-heart. Hadley’s dad had jokingly dubbed them the three musketeers from the tender age of five, and the moniker had stuck. They had stuck together, through thick and thin, ever since.
Hadley thought of the simple joys of their childhood with a longing that nearly made her tear up again. How had her life gotten so complicated? She’d planned to come home to rest, to get herself together—to eat ice cream on the curb faster than it could dribble down her chin. To be surrounded by her tight-knit circle of family and friends. To play with the dogs.
Except now there would be no more dogs to play with.
“Oh, yoo-hoo, there you three are,” a voice behind them said. Hadley turned to find Anita Morales, one of her grandmother’s good friends and the owner of Ye Olde Yarn, the needlework shop down the street. She was dressed in a vivid floral-print dress with a matching fuchsia purse and shoes. Her poodle, Jesse, wore the same color bows on her ears and had painted toenails.
“How are you, dear?” Anita squeezed Hadley against her ample bosom. “That awful, sneaky, no-good louse. Mr. Big Shot Actor. Don’t you give him and his hussy girlfriend a second thought.” She patted Hadley on the shoulder. “You’re home now.”
“Thanks, Anita,” Hadley managed. This was exactly what she didn’t want. To be fussed over. To stand out. Unlike Cam-of-the-Big-Banner, who was probably basking in all the attention. Not that she begrudged him his hard-earned fame, but why couldn’t her high school love have been somebody with a low profile, like their classmate with the very prestigious, hush-hush job working for the CIA? He certainly wasn’t coming home to his name plastered all over the town.
“Why, I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished, what with working in the big city and having all those famous clients,” Anita said. “Your grandma tells us all about them. We’re all so proud.”
“It’s great to be home.” Hadley tried to deflect the praise. Covering up the outrageous behaviors of entitled stars eighty hours a week was exhausting. Once she’d even gotten roped into figuring out how to deliver warm Krispy Kreme donuts to a movie set two hundred miles away from the nearest Krispy Kreme, only to have her client complain they weren’t still warm.
She’d aimed for the stars (not the movie kind), and she’d achieved her goal, but somehow she’d lost something along the way.
She thought it just might be herself.
“You poor thing,” Anita continued. “I can’t imagine what you must feel like, what with Cooper running off with that gorgeous starlet. And the whole world on their side because of all that humanitarian work they’re doing. You must be positively heartbroken.”
Before Hadley could even imagine an answer, Anita leaned in, close enough for Hadley to smell her flowery perfume, the same intense scent she remembered from her childhood. Anita dropped her voice and asked, “Did you really go on a shopping spree and max out all his credit cards? Or show up at the Chateau Marmont and pour wine on his head?”
“She didn’t do that,” Kit interjected, jumping to Hadley’s defense.
“I didn’t do the first thing,” Hadley said. But she had taken six of Cooper’s Armani suits, seven pairs of Louboutin loafers, and five Gucci custom-tailored jackets down to the local homeless shelter, which gave her an immense sense of satisfaction. Maybe she’d done a little bit of good too.
And the other rumor—that happened to be true. Red wine. A vintage pour, $600 a bottle. Right on top of his perfectly-streaked-to-look-natural blond hair.
In reality, Anita’s words held some sting. It was difficult to compare the work Hadley did every day to delivering water and vaccines and eliminating food-borne illnesses.
“I’m so glad you’re back in Seashell Harbor,” Anita continued. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice fella and stay.”
“We’d sure like her to stay.” Kit gave Hadley another side hug. “Even though we’ve only got her for the summer.”
“Maybe you’ll all meet nice fellas,” Anita said with a wink.
“We don’t need men to be happy, Anita,” Darla said in her usual tell-it-like-it-is fashion. “We can be happy just as we are.”
“Oh, goodness, the light’s changed!” Kit said loudly, whisking Darla away. “Nice to see you, Anita, but we really have to go.” She grabbed Hadley by the elbow and hurried them all across the street.
“We all get it, Darla,” Kit said, “but Anita will be matchmaking until the day she dies.”
“I love her to pieces,” Darla said. “But why, if you’re thirty-five and unmarried, does everyone believe it’s their mission to marry you off?”
“Chin up, dear,” Anita called out cheerily, loud enough for passersby to turn and stare. “Don’t let those cheap dime-store rags destroy you!”
“I know she means well but that’s really harsh!” Hadley said once they were across the street. Yes, she’d been heartbroken. Publicly humiliated by Cooper’s affair. But not destroyed, yeesh.
Never destroyed. She’d come from too long a line of strong women for that to ever happen. And, as her mom liked to say, her great-great-great-grandfather might have been the very first settler in Seashell Harbor, but that was only because her great-great-great-grandmother insisted they put down roots here rather than in Alaska, which was where he’d had a hankering to go.
To this day, every street bore her influence. Such as Petunia Street, followed closely by Gardenia, Hyacinth, Daisy, and Tulip Streets. And those were only the main ones.
And then there was the beach. Nothing against Alaska, but the glorious, wonderful, amazing beach was right in their backyard. Hadley had grown up with summer after summer of sun-kissed days playing on the sand in front of the effervescent, ever-changing water. While there was a lot to brag about in Seashell Harbor, the ocean was the giant cherry on top.
“I love it here,” Hadley couldn’t help saying. “It’s quiet and peaceful and everyone’s friendly. But it feels like a dream—a place to escape reality.” Plus, in spite of her summer plans, she wasn’t even sure she remembered what to do with downtime.
“Trust me,” Kit said. “If you lived here full-time, you’d see it’s not a perfect beach paradise. But it is still one of the most beautiful places on earth.”
“That’s what brought me back,” Darla said. But she hadn’t just moved back home. Rather, she’d done it spectacularly by buying an enormous modern house right on the beach. “That and being closer to my mom. Even if Nick still lives here.”
Kit scrunched up her nose at the mention of Darla’s ex-husband. “How’s that going, both of you living in the same town again?”
Darla waved a hand dismissively. “When I look out my window onto that gorgeous blue ocean, thoughts of Nick just fade away.”
“…until he jogs by shirtless,” Kit said pointedly.
“I wasn’t even sure that was him.” Darla’s fair skin colored.
“He waved,” Kit said. “Of course you were sure.”
“Are you blushing?” Hadley asked Darla. Turning to Kit, she asked, “Did I miss something?” And then to Darla, “Are you and Nick a thing again?”
“No!” Darla said vehemently. “Absolutely not.”
“You two were so young when you married,” Kit said. “Maybe things would be different now.”
“Trust me,” Darla said. “Once around with him was enough.”
Hadley couldn’t help but laugh. “I love you both,” she said as they arrived at Pooch Palace’s front door. “But I’ve got to go.”
Kit glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to pick up Ollie from day care. I promised him some beach time today. Good luck, Hadley.” She gave a little wave. “Call me.”
“Bye, Had.” Darla gave her a final hug. “Go in there and get it over with. Don’t forget we’re doing lunch on Saturday; then you’re all coming over to help me unpack my bedroom, okay? There will be wine, I promise.”
A quick glance at her dear friends reminded Hadley that she could have it a lot worse. Kit had lost her husband, a marine, three years ago and was raising their sweet little boy on her own. And Darla had just been declared cancer-free after a two-year battle with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Hadley’s troubles were nothing compared to what her friends had been through.
“Just remember,” Kit called, “you came here to lie low, to let the bad press die down.”
“You always overcommit,” Darla said. “Look out for you for once.”
Hadley nodded gratefully and inhaled a lungful of the fresh sea air from the ocean just blocks away. “Okay, I’m going in.”
Chapter 3
As Hadley pushed open the heavy door of Pooch Palace, it made a familiar scraping sound against the old wooden floor, just as a bell tinkled cheerily above her head. Despite her nerves, an immediate sense of comfort enveloped her as she took in the rose-covered wallpaper that her grandmother had always said reminded her of an English garden. She smiled at the large open area surrounded by colorful plastic gating where the dogs could hang out and play, the comfy carpet squares to nap and hang out, the water bowls along the sides. It was a coffee shop hangout for dogs, sort of.
On closer inspection, the normally bark-filled environment was strangely quiet. The several cordoned-off areas for dog crates were empty. As were the glass-doored rooms that lined the back. Her grandmother called them guest suites, each one lined with wallpaper showing a different dog breed, except for Hadley’s favorite, which was covered with cute little painted dog paw prints, a project she’d done herself back in high school.
But where were all the dogs?
A basset hound popped up from a purple velvet dog bed on a window seat, his long velvety ears unfolding from over his eyes as he suddenly perked up, his tags clinking as he shook his head vigorously.
“Bowie!” Hadley almost cried in relief. Bowie was her grandmother’s dog, and they were lifelong pals. He turned to her at the sound of his name, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s my boy?” Hadley bent over and tapped her thigh to get him to notice that it was her.
Bowie leaped off his bed and ran over. But just as she went to pet him, he kept going, jetting right past her, behind the counter, into the back of the building.
Okay, apparently even unconditional doggie love was going to be denied her today. As she straightened up, she caught sight of an older woman with short gray hair coming out from the back. “Ivy!”
“Hiya, Hadley, sweetie.” Ivy gave her a giant hug. “We’re so glad you’re back.”
A woman of about fifty with red hair and a bright yellow flowered dress followed close behind. “Well I’ll be!” Mayellen exclaimed in a deep Southern accent. “Look here, Ivy, our baby girl Hadley’s back. And she’s pretty as a peach.”
Hadley hugged her grandmother’s longtime employees with affection. “Bowie’s okay, isn’t he?” Her grandmother hadn’t mentioned that he was showing signs of senility. Or failing vision. Or hearing loss.
“He’s just as spry as ever.” Ivy chuckled. “It’s just that Cam—”
Hadley’s head jerked up. Before she could react, Mayellen spoke.
“She said came. It’s just that Bowie came late today and he’s starving. Ran right back there to eat his dinner. I’m sure he’ll be back out in a sec.” Mayellen shot Ivy a look, perfected from her thirty years as a first-grade teacher, her job when she wasn’t at Pooch Palace.
Hadley’s grandma had said her next-door neighbor was keeping Bowie at night, so she guessed that made sense. Maybe. “I heard about Cam wanting to buy the building. And I saw his car—”
Ivy nervously fingered a newspaper spread out upon the counter, which Hadley recognized as one of those familiar, hateful grocery store tabloids. “Is it true you went to rehab?” She held up a page with Hadley’s photo with the headline, Heartbroken Hadley! Jilted and Jealous!
“Of course not,” she said a little defensively. All thoughts of wringing Cam’s neck faded as she caught sight of a photo taken at the Academy Awards this past March. She wore a black couture gown and was smiling broadly as she took the arm of a handsome man in a tux whose classic, chiseled features resembled Chris Pine’s.
