Chapter Nine The Shifting Tides
May 2022
The following morning, she woke up early, but not nearly early enough. Mr. Whittingham was sitting in his spot below her raised deck, ready to play chess at a quarter to eight.
“Mr. Whittingham.” She smiled down at him from her porch.
“Hi, neighbor.” He smiled and waved. “Sorry I’m a bit early. I was too excited to sleep in.”
Olivia laughed at his excuse and was glad to note that nothing about Mr. Whittingham had changed. He still arrived early for any event or appointment. He wore his summer uniform: a white polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a hat for his long walks.
“Never change, Mr. Whittingham,” Olivia muttered under her breath. She smiled and said out loud, “Would you like water, coffee, or tea?”
“I’ll have some of that infamous coffee your godmother Ama created. Garrett goes on and on about it.”
“I’ve got a fresh pot. I’ll be right back.”
Olivia returned with two cups of dark roast with chicory and whipped cream—Ama’s recipe—and placed the hot beverages near the concrete chessboard.
Mr. Whittingham waved at the board, and they immediately started playing. For once, they started the game in silence. Each held victories over the other, and what had started off as pure fun had transformed into a battle of minds. When Olivia made a strategic move that nearly guaranteed her win, Mr. Whittingham winced.
“Care to make a wager?”
Olivia lifted her attention from the board to her friendly opponent. “On this game?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“The one you’re about to lose?” Olivia grinned. He could handle the smack talk.
He nodded again. “The very one.”
“All right. Name your stakes.”
“If I win, you will go home in two days.”
“This is my home.”
He lowered his chin and eyebrows, and Olivia just knew he’d given his children the same disapproving look when they smarted off.
Olivia sighed. “Did CJ put you up to this?”
“No.” Mr. Whittingham shook his head.
“Then why do you want me to leave? I thought you missed our neighborly chats and beekeeping.”
“And I do. Miss it even more now that Bea’s back with her husband.”
“Then why?”
Mr. Whittingham leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
“Young lady, when I met you, you were incredibly sad and lost. And respectfully, you were with a young man with whom you were not well matched.”
Olivia gasped. “Anderson wasn’t poor. And he had lots of potential.”
“When I say ‘well matched,’ I’m not speaking of money. His family has millions. I’m not even speaking of class. What I mean is that you did not love him. And Anderson... he loved the idea of you. And that simply cannot sustain a relationship.”
“We aren’t together anymore, so I don’t understand why we are having this conversation.”
“Because you focused so much on that relationship, you couldn’t see the possibilities of your future. You didn’t see that you could have neighbors turn into friends who adore you. Or being a godmother to a motherless child. You wouldn’t... stop running long enough to see the beauty of growth.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s why I wanted you to slow down. Walk with me, play a game. How else could you appreciate things when you’re always running?”
Olivia held her breath. She wouldn’t interrupt him. Mr. Whittingham rarely had an unkind word to say, and something told her to hold her words and listen.
“And now you’re running again, aren’t you?”
Olivia shook her head. “No. Even Dr. LaGrange said I needed to give myself space to process. It’s a good thing.”
“That’s baloney.”
“It’s not baloney. It’s me, slowing down, my way.”
“You ran, young lady. I’ve seen for myself that your spirits are high and your eyes are clear. It’s time to go back and stand beside your mother and father.”
“For what?” Her voice went high. “CJ’s never stood beside me. Not when I was born, not for any graduations, not once over the years when I’ve had my heart broken. Why should I care?”
“You aren’t afraid of chatter, Olivia. You’re mad. And you have every right to be. But this self-care that you speak of includes letting go of that anger and hurt, letting the poison inside of you clear. It’s about embracing adventure and saying yes to the quest.”
Olivia crossed her arms. The pep talk had soured her mood, but she wouldn’t be disrespectful to her neighbor. “I’m not in the mood for adventure.”
“But aren’t you? I believe you once told me you wanted to get to know your father. You wanted to understand why he never came back for you and your mom. Well, there’s more to the story than hurt feelings.”
“Like what? If you know something, tell me.”
“The reason CJ stuck around Highland Beach, the reason he became mayor, was that he wanted to understand what happened to his sister. He thought there’d been a cover-up.”
Olivia nearly cracked her chess piece. “Did someone murder her?” Olivia was under the impression that Indigo had drowned.
“He doesn’t know. Never did find out. But something happened between him and his sister the night she died, and... I don’t know, he decided if he couldn’t be a good big brother to her, or to Chris, he couldn’t be a good father.”
Olivia shook her head. “Still, that’s no excuse. After what happened with Chris, he should have reached out.”
Mr. Whittingham shook his head. “Now, Chris, he didn’t want—” He sighed, shaking his head.
“He didn’t what?”
“That’s not my place to say. You’ve got to have your own conversations.”
Olivia clenched her jaw and quickly moved her piece. “Checkmate.” She stood up from her seat. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need a rain check on our walk today as I’m suddenly not feeling so well.”
“Of course, and I’m sorry I came down on you so hard. Olivia, I’ve enjoyed watching you blossom, but you still have more growing to do. I don’t want this situation to make you shy away from the sunlight.”
He handed Olivia his empty mug and, with sad eyes, walked away from her yard. Olivia stomped back inside her house, fuming.
She couldn’t believe her sweet, genial neighbor had said those things to her. “I’m not running. I’m pivoting,” she said to no one.
So what if she hadn’t answered Cindy’s or CJ’s calls? She’d communicated on her terms and told them she’d be in touch.
Olivia massaged her temples.
“I mean, someone snapped my picture and posted it on the town’s Facebook page, for goodness’ sake.”
She’d bet the image had gone viral. Olivia opened her laptop, searched for the group, and saw that it had been taken down. But a few comments caught her eye.
Who posted the picture of that poor baby?
That comment had gotten over a hundred likes.
I’ve seen her jogging! She certainly looks like a Jones.
Whoever posted that picture should be ashamed! I know almost everyone in this town, and we don’t tolerate paparazzi.
There were a few more comments. Some rather benign about her looks and a purported run-in. Some were mean-spirited, but mostly they berated CJ about having a child in secret.
None had been about Cindy. For her mother’s peace of mind, she was grateful.
Olivia needed advice, but not from Garrett, who she knew wanted her to stay. And not from her parents—they obviously wanted her back at Highland Beach.
She took a shot in the dark and sent a text to the women she trusted most in the world.
In need of some advice. Can you all talk this afternoon while Libby and Isabel are napping?
Ama was in France, so the timing would work.
Over the course of two hours, Billie, Perry, and then finally Ama texted to confirm their availability. Ama had tried calling, but Olivia diverted her call. She didn’t think she could relive the humiliation more than once in a day.
The FaceTime ringtone trilled at the agreed-upon time. Perry had been the first to dial in, then Ama, and finally Billie, whose face was flushed red.
“Hi,” Olivia greeted her godmother and godsisters.
“Hello yourself, young lady.” Ama sat regally at what appeared to be a table in a vineyard.
“I’ve called you twice today.” Ama lifted two fingers. “And I do not appreciate being ignored. I have been on pins and needles all day, imagining the worst, when I need to focus on developing my special wine. Now what is going on?”
“Sorry, Ama. But where are you?”
“I’ve bought a vineyard in Provence. Discussion for another day.”
Billie suppressed a smile while Perry looked alarmed.
“Someone discovered that I’m CJ’s daughter. They posted a picture of me on the town’s Facebook page. And so... now I’m in Sag Harbor. I ran away, and I’m unsure if it was the right thing to do.”
“Who posted it?” Ama narrowed her eyes. Her pale skin flushed red.
“It was anonymous. They likely created a dummy account.”
“Everything has a trace. I’ll find out who the culprit is, don’t you worry.”
“How are you feeling?” Perry whispered fiercely.
“Embarrassed by both the post and my actions. Mr. Whittingham told me this morning that I keep running away from things.”
Perry bit her lip, but she didn’t respond.
But Billie sang, “She’s a runner, she’s a track star.”
“Billie,” Olivia snapped.
“What? It’s just a song.”
“I want advice, not jokes.”
Billie sighed. “Listen, you’ve grown by leaps and bounds ever since you’ve been to therapy. So I don’t say this lightly, but in the past you have walked away. And then when you walk away, you just sit on your feelings until they fester. But given the situation, I totally understand why you would want to get out of town for a few days.”
Olivia nodded. She wasn’t offended by Billie’s assessment. “But if you were me, would you go back?”
“Hell, yes. No one is going to run me out of town. I leave on my terms.”
“Language, Billie,” Ama admonished.
“Yes, Grandmother.” Billie rolled her eyes. “I thought being part of the moms’ club gave me a pass.”
“To use unbecoming language in front of your elders?” Ama harrumphed. “Absolutely not.
“Now, my darling Olivia.” Ama gentled her tone. “You aren’t some wilting flower who shrinks under adversity. You’ve faced tougher odds, you’ve gone head-to-head with the worst of the worst. Go back to that place, hold your head high, and if they dare disrespect you, put them in their place.”
“Amen.” Perry clapped.
“Now, tell me how Ms. Thing responded.”
“Ms. Who?” Billie asked.
“Christine, her biological grandmother.” Ama narrowed her eyes. “What did she have to say?”
Olivia’s eyes widened. She wasn’t ready to talk about Christine. But Christine’s words were like jet fuel to a rocket. “She wasn’t pleased by the reveal.”
“Not pleased? What do you mean, not pleased?” Ama’s voice rose. “Was she upset that someone followed you and posted your image without permission on their dinky little page?”
“Well, no.”
“Not pleased?” Ama sniffed. “She should be not pleased about how she treated you, her son, and the mother of her granddaughter.” She shook her head. “Do I need to pack my bags and visit Highland Beach?”
“No.” Olivia shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Now, Ama,” Perry tutted. “You were telling me how much fun you were having with Carter in France. It’d be a shame to cut your time short.”
“We’ll be in the Bluffs in a few weeks.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I want to see my darling goddaughter Libby and I’m looking forward to spoiling Isabel. She hasn’t seen my face nearly enough. And I will bring samples of my wine from my vineyard. It’s called ‘Ama’s Blend.’”
Billie, for once, had nothing to say, outside of the huge grin on her face.
“Are you still not allowing any visitors for Isabel?” Ama asked.
“Affirmative.” Billie nodded. “Well, except for you, Ama. Just be sure to wait a few weeks after you return and test.”
“Of course I will. I would never harm my precious grandchild.”
“Olivia, did we help at all?” Perry thankfully brought the conversation back to the subject.
Olivia nodded. Their words had not only helped, but she appreciated their confidence in her to face the fire.
“For what it’s worth, I think you did what was best for you,” Perry said. “There’s nothing wrong with leaving and resetting. It worked wonders for Damon and me and our marriage.”
Billie snorted. “‘Resetting’? Is that what the kids call it these days?”
Olivia wanted to laugh, but then remembered her own resetting between Anderson and Garrett last summer.
“Hush, Billie,” Perry hissed.
“What did you do to reset, dear?” Ama asked.
“O-oh, nothing,” Perry mumbled.
Ama opened her mouth, seeming likely to press the issue. Olivia quickly jumped in. “So you all agree I should return?”
They all quickly agreed.
“Sooner rather than later?”
“Absolutely. Olivia Jones does not hide away and lick her wounds,” Ama reminded her, her voice determined. “She faces things and sets her own terms.”
“All right. I’ll stay for another day, and then I’ll go back to Highland Beach.”
Before ending the conversation, Olivia thanked them all. Then she called Garrett to let him know that she’d soon be leaving. They agreed to takeout dinner since Garrett couldn’t secure a sitter during the week and at the last minute.
She was grateful that Garrett had taken off from work so they could spend the day in bed, in each other’s arms. Later, instead of going home as usual at the end of the evening, she planned to stay overnight.
She and Garrett had another round of lovemaking and finished just before Zora’s school bus arrived. Garrett ran outside to wait at the stop.
As she started to get dressed, her phone rang. She immediately recognized the number and growled into a pillow, then took the call.
“Hello, CJ.” She covered her torso with a blanket.
“Olivia?” he asked, as if he hadn’t called her. “How are you?”
“I’m... okay. Just taking some time away to think.”
He grunted in that way of his, which was not endearing now. “What is it, CJ?”
“When you came to visit again, you said you wouldn’t run back to Highland Beach. I thought you were made of tougher stuff.”
“What did you say?” His words were like a lighter to charcoal, and she was ready to burn. And how in the world would he know what she was made of? They were running off merely months of knowing each other.
“I’m not running.” Her words were cool, despite her temperament. “Someone is literally stalking me. Taking photos of me. Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“I can protect you.”
Olivia laughed. “Sure you can.”
“I will.”
She snorted. “You can’t even protect your own image,” she said, thinking about what she’d heard about Riley and Lauren.
“Do you ever let your guard down?” he whispered. “You’re just like your mother. Tougher than the earth’s core. How is it even possible for that young man, the one Mr. Whitt told me about, to dig deep with you?”
“Garrett knows the score. He knows I’m not... in a place where I can give more than I am.”
“Not according to Mr. Whitt. He says he wants more. He wants to—”
“I don’t care what Garrett wants,” Olivia yelled. “Or... or what you want. And I don’t need your opinion.”
“I’m just trying to help. And the only way I can do that is if you come back... get to know me as your father.”
Oh God, how she had wished and prayed for a father as a child. But then CJ came along. The man who denied her existence. The womanizer who didn’t have sense enough to separate business from pleasure. He was not the dad she’d longed for.
“Let’s get one thing straight. You and Christine love to tout all the amazing things about you and the Jones family. But you know what? You’re just a goddamned deadbeat dad.”
“Are you a deadbeat daddy?” Olivia heard a wounded, tiny whisper from the door.
“Oh... oh God.” Olivia scrambled to cover herself. “I’ll talk to you later, CJ.” She immediately ended the call.
She felt Garrett’s stony gaze as she scrambled to cover herself.
“Oh, baby, of course he isn’t a deadbeat! We... I was just talking to someone about big people’s stuff. I’m so sorry.”
Zora jumped into bed and hugged her tightly. “You’re here.”
“Of course! I told you I’d be back.” Olivia smoothed her hair.
“Forever?”
“I...” She looked at Garrett, who hadn’t moved a muscle from the doorway.
She hadn’t expected such a pointed question from her goddaughter. Or expected to be caught half naked in Garrett’s bedroom, in a heated argument with her father. “Sweetie, can you give me a second to finish getting dressed?”
“Okay, Olivia.” Zora happily bounced off the bed and skipped out the door past her father.
Olivia stared at her boyfriend, scared of his expression, the cold, the hurt.
“Garrett, I’m sorry. How much of that did you and Zora hear?”
“You don’t care what I want.” Garrett stared at Olivia, as if daring her to deny it.
“Of course I care. It was just... I was caught up in a heated moment.”
“In my house. With my daughter, who heard you curse at your father. She looks up to you, and you showed your ass when your dad told you some uncomfortable truths. If this is... is how you react to having critical conversations, then...” He shook his head and waved a tired hand.
“Why don’t I go home for now? We can discuss what happened after Zora goes to bed.” Her tone was hopeful. “I promise I didn’t mean it how I said it.”
“Fine. But yes, I think it’s best you go home for now.” Her heart tumbled to her feet. She hadn’t thought he would agree so easily that she should leave.
“What will you say to Zora?” Olivia had looked forward to their afternoon together.
“That you’re sick and you need to attend to your issues.”
When Olivia nodded, Garrett shut the bedroom door with a bang.
Olivia slumped over, cradling her forehead in her hand. Something soured and curled inside her stomach.
I am sick.
How could she do that to Garrett? And in front of Zora, no less. She swallowed down the bile that threatened to shoot like a rocket up her throat.
After Garrett had tucked in Zora, Olivia sat across from him at his dining table. A bottle of his favorite wine and silence stood between them.
Garrett’s gaze seared her—and not in the electrifying way that his attention usually did. It felt like angry bees stinging her all over.
“I’m so very sorry for saying that I didn’t care about your feelings,” Olivia said. “And of course, I’m sorry for how careless I was when Zora was home.”
“I know you are,” he replied simply, without relinquishing the heat of his gaze.
“Out with it,” she invited.
“With what?”
“With your feelings, Garrett. You’re obviously mad at me.”
He leaned back. “Fine. I think you’re still lost.”
“I’m not lost.”
“You are. And I think you still don’t know when love is staring back at you.”
“Y-you... you never said you loved me.”
He cracked a crooked, sardonic smile. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” His deep, blasé voice hollowed her heart.
“You don’t... you don’t really mean that, do you?”
“You know what Zora asked me when I put her to bed?”
“No.” Olivia had arrived back at Garrett’s precisely ten minutes after Zora’s bedtime at eight p.m.
“She wanted to pray for you. She wanted you to stop saying mean things to your daddy, and she wants you to be happy.”
“Garrett...”
“Even a six-year-old knows you’re unhappy.”
“I am happy. I’m just really... going through a tough time with my parents and... and... surely you understand?” Olivia was at her wit’s end. Sure, she had an awful moment. She was human. But that wasn’t her normal mode of conduct.
“I wish I had both of my parents here with me. Imperfections and everything, and trust me, they were nowhere near perfect. My mom was too damn stubborn to get the vaccine. And now she’s not here. My dad was not perfect. We bumped heads more than we got along, but I miss him. I want to hold them. Give them a hug. Most of all, I want them to be with Zora. She’s missed out on so much. My parents. My wife. I grieve and I ache for them every single day.”
Olivia’s head snapped back. She knew he missed his wife, but damn, did it hurt to feel like a substitute.
“But they’re gone. She’s gone. And you.” He pointed to Olivia. “Both your parents are alive. You may hate her, but you have a grandmother. You have a family with an amazing legacy. But you’re too damn scared to reach for what you want.”
“I’m not scared.” She hated that her voice shook.
He leaned back, staring at her as if he were realizing just who she really was for the first time. “You are... or maybe you enjoy being unhappy. Living in constant drama.”
Olivia shot to her feet. “You’re being obnoxious.”
“Oh, there she is.”
“Yes. Here I am. I had a bad day. That doesn’t mean I don’t care for you and Zora. Or that I’m not serious about this relationship, o-or—”
“I’ve lost too much!” Garrett slapped his hand across his chest. “Zora’s lost too much. And I can’t have her get attached to someone like you.”
Someone like me?
“What are you saying?” Olivia whispered, lowering herself to the couch.
“You’re not good for her right now. She needs steady and positive role models. Someone who’s going to stick around when the going gets tough.”
“I am that person.” Olivia sucked in a breath to steady her voice. “I’m good for her.”
“Maybe you want to be that person. But I just keep thinking about what happened last summer, and what’s happening this summer... and you haven’t really changed. Not as much as you think.” Garrett shook his head. “How long do I have to wait for the dream of you to come to life?”
She should’ve known he would ruin her. A man that kind and good-looking and loving wasn’t real.
Don’t break down. Don’t cry.
She imagined an iron fist scrapping the pieces of her broken heart, then putting the pieces back together.
“Maybe you’re the one who should look in the mirror, Garrett.”
Olivia walked outside, shutting the door. She heard a rustling behind her that could have been either Garrett or a vicious animal poised for attack.
She didn’t care. Nothing could make her turn around and look back.
Don’t cry. Not yet.
Back at her house, she packed her bags and took a shower.
Not yet.
Olivia gathered a fewother personal items to bring with her to Highland Beach.
Now you can cry.
She closed her eyes, already wet with tears and pain. A ding from her phone caught her attention. But she couldn’t move. Her body and soul seemed to have been spun in a blender.
After little sleep, she rose just before dawn the next day. Olivia texted Cindy and CJ to let them know her plan to return later in the day.
Olivia did not call or say goodbye to Garrett. She didn’t know how to say goodbye, or how to make up. Unfortunately, she’d realize much later, not saying goodbye was the wrong thing to do.