I think what Palmer is trying to not so eloquently say is that we should go over the party plans and make sure everything is locked in. We appreciate all the work you’ve put into the party, Cooper, but now that we are here, present, ready to help, we want to make sure we’ve got everything covered.
I propose we meet up at Mom and Dad’s this weekend, surprise them with some brunch and then when they go on their Sunday hike, we finalize all the details of the party.
Does that work for everyone?
And remember, we are in this together. We might have different opinions, but we have one thing in common, our love for Mom and Dad. Let’s remember that moving forward into this meeting.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PALMER
“What are you doing?” Laramie asks over the phone. “Do I hear . . . nature?”
“I’m walking.”
“Walking where? To get coffee?”
“No, just walking.”
“For the hell of it? Girl, I know you bonked your head a couple days ago, but are you sure nothing more serious happened? You know I’m all about fitness, but when have you ever just gone for a walk?”
“When I came back to Marina Island.” I let out a harsh breath as I stroll along the stone wall that lines the harbor. “I had to get out of the house. Mom keeps wanting to teach me to knit, and Dad is blaring a podcast about how things are made. And then there’s the constant nagging about cleaning out my room and sifting through what I want to keep and what I want to get rid of. I needed a second to breathe, so I told them I was going to go around and take some pictures of the island.”
“Have you?”
“No, I called you instead.”
“A commendable choice, but since you’re already there, why don’t you follow through on your farce? You know, really create a checklist of must-see places in the Pacific Northwest? Might not hurt.”
“You mean actually come up with some sort of PNW extravaganza?”
“Why not? Who knows, maybe it’ll lead you to something more. What else are you going to do while you wait around for the next best thing?”
Up ahead, I spot the bed-and-breakfast. Its quaint white picket fence bordering the sidewalk is filled with colorful flower beds, so it’s hard to miss. Ford was smart staying there. I wonder what he’s up to. Since I have nothing better to do, might as well go bother my older brother.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “I think I’m going to need some sort of outlet. My family is already starting to drive me nuts, and unless I figure out a way to get a paycheck in the bank, I’m here for a while.”
“You still haven’t told them?”
“Oh hell no. And I won’t be telling them about my lack of job, money, or roof over my head.”
“The trifecta of accomplishment. But seriously, your family is loaded—don’t you have some sort of trust fund you can lean on?”
“No,” I say as my mind immediately goes to the night of the fire and how that changed everything.
“Then why not just ask them for help?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Because of your pride?” Laramie asks, sounding annoyed.
“No, because . . . because I don’t deserve their help,” I say, just as my eyes connect with the Victorian house up ahead, reminding me of the man who works there.
So much happened.
So much I don’t talk about . . . with anyone.
“How do you not deserve your family’s help? That’s what family is for, Palmer.”
“Yeah, I know, but this is different.” A figure moves past one of the Victorian house’s windows, and just from the silhouette, I know it’s Beau. “I didn’t tell you . . . I, uh . . . I ran into Beau.”
“Beau? Who’s Beau—oh wait . . . the Beau.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yup, but he’s Dr. Beau now.”
“Oh, now that has a nice ring to it. Let me guess, given your luck, he has a ‘call me daddy’ vibe, doesn’t he?”
“I’m pretty sure I almost called him that when he was examining my head and I got lost in the dignified smell of his cologne. Tom Ford.”
“Ohhh, devastating to one’s burning loins.”
“Yeah, and those loins were ignited and roaring.” I take a deep breath. “He’s all grown up, Laramie, even more handsome than before. And because I’m completely obtuse, I didn’t recognize him. Granted, I was hungover and still trying to comprehend what was happening, but he looks different. Incredibly masculine, filled out in all the right spots. But thanks to my love of wine, I’m pretty sure he still thinks I’m an idiot.”