She’d only been seventeen when she’d had me. My biological father was a boy she’d been with in high school. I knew his name. I had an old picture she’d saved from a yearbook. But otherwise, he’d never been a part of my life. Neither had Mom’s parents.
They’d shunned her after she’d announced her pregnancy. They’d kicked her out of the house, but thankfully, she’d had a sympathetic aunt who’d taken her in. We’d lived in her aunt’s basement until I was two.
That’s when Mom married Dad.
She always said the day she met Dad was kismet. A waitress at the diner where she’d worked had asked her to swap shifts, so she’d had a random Friday afternoon off. Mom had taken me to a nearby community park to play on the swing set. It had been Dad’s last day working for the landscaping company that had maintained the park. A day later, and it would have been someone else cutting the grass.
Dad proclaimed it was love at first sight.
He adopted me after their wedding. We moved into his house, visiting Mom’s aunt until she passed away when I was eight. Mom quit the diner and started working at the coffee shop. And we’d had a happy life, just the three of us.
Dad was my dad, even if we didn’t share DNA. We looked nothing alike. He had black hair and coffee-colored eyes. His bushy mustache had a few flecks of gray. His frame was short and stocky.
But in so many ways, we were exactly alike. Mom used to tease us that we were born kindred spirits. We could finish each other’s sentences. We usually craved the same foods. And though I loved Mom entirely, whenever I needed life advice, Dad was my first phone call.
When I’d decided to move to Calamity, I’d told him first.
The sound of the mower stopped and both Mom and I shot off the couch, heading out the front door.
Dad wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “This yard needs help.”
I laughed. “I know.”
“It needs to be aerated. It wouldn’t hurt to throw down some fresh seed to fill these patchy spots. Maybe we could swing by that hardware store.”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “This is your vacation, Dad. Mowing is all you get to do. I can handle the rest. You taught me how to grow a nice lawn, remember?”
He chuckled and held up his hands. “Okay, fine.”
“Are you good to do some exploring?” Mom asked, then checked her watch. “We’ve got some time before we can check into the motel.”
“You could cancel your reservation and stay here.” The guest bedroom was all ready for company.
“Next time.” Dad shook his head. “This is our vacation too.”
And I wouldn’t begrudge them a little privacy.
The day I’d announced my move date this past winter, they’d made their reservation at the motel. Luckily, they’d called before the motel had been fully booked for the summer.
Mom drained the rest of her tea. “Okay, let’s go.”
We set off at a leisurely pace, in no rush as we strolled along First. Dad and I wandered into the coffee shop for an afternoon latte while Mom opted to stay on a bench and people-watch.
Mom pulled us into each retail store to browse, not buy. She rarely splurged and this trip had likely drained their fun money fund.
I’d offered to purchase their plane tickets but Mom had insisted. She’d also told me not to even ask Dad—his pride was a beautiful and frustrating quality. Another personality trait we had in common.
“Jane’s.” Mom nodded to the bar as we stood beneath its sign. “Is this Pierce’s place?”
“No, he and Kerrigan own the brewery.” I pointed down the road. “Want to go there for dinner and a beer?”
“How about we save that for tomorrow?” Dad took the lead, opening the door to Jane’s for us both. “Let’s try this place tonight. It looks fun.”
“Oh, it’s got character.” I stepped in first, letting my eyes adjust to the darkened light, then scanned the room.
It smelled of burgers and fries and a good time. The music was cranked loud. Jane was behind the bar, mixing a cocktail. Most of the tables were full as were the stools at the bar itself.
A broad frame and wide shoulders pulled my gaze. I’d know that backward hat anywhere.
Shit. Of course Cal would be here today of all days. Karma was a bitch. Hadn’t he learned his lesson the last time he’d visited Jane’s?
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, stepping in behind me.
“Nothing.” I forced a smile and steered her to an empty table. She didn’t notice Cal as we sat down, mostly because her back was to him. I held out the other chair that faced away from the bar. “Here you go, Dad. You can sit here.”
“No, I want to sit across from my gorgeous wife so I can stare at her all night.” He bent and kissed her cheek before taking his seat. A seat that faced the bar.
I grimaced, then pulled out my chair.
“You weren’t lying.” Dad laughed as he looked around. “Lots of character. I like it.”
“Me too,” Mom said as the waitress appeared with menus and took our drink order.
“What’s good here?” Dad asked, glancing around the room. I felt it the moment he spotted Cal. His body stiffened. His smile dropped. His eyes shot my way for an explanation.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
Dad frowned and gave me the we’ll talk about it later look.
“I think I’ll try a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries.” Mom’s menu closed with a slap. Her chair’s legs scraped on the floor as she stood. “I’m going to find the restroom and wash my hands. If the waitress comes back while I’m gone, order for me.”
“Okay.” I held my breath as she walked away, hoping she didn’t see Cal. She walked right past him, totally oblivious that he was at the bar. I slumped as I exhaled. Phew.
“Tell me that’s not who it looks like,” Dad said.
“I can’t.” I sighed. “Sorry. I should have told you.”
“What’s he doing here?” Dad’s eyes were glued to Cal’s spine.
“Apparently he’s living here too.”
“You’re joking.”
I shrugged. “He’s friends with Pierce too, remember?”
“Now I wish you would have stayed in Denver. I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”
Oh, if he only knew. “It’s fine, Dad. I learned to tolerate Cal a long time ago. We avoid each other.” Sort of.
He huffed and returned to his menu. “I still don’t like it.”
“I know.”
Cal must have felt my gaze on his back because he twisted, looking over his shoulder. When he spotted me, he spun away from the bar. Then he froze as he spotted Dad. He sat straighter. He squared his shoulders. One foot slid off his stool’s rung for the floor and he moved like he was going to walk over.
“No,” I mouthed, shaking my head.
Cal wasn’t welcome near my father, my rule not Dad’s.
His shoulders fell. His chin dropped. Then he turned on his stool once more, facing away. A moment later, his hand dug into his jeans pocket for his wallet. With a wad of cash left on the bar, he slid off his stool and crossed the room, head down as he strode to the door.