2. Catherine
Chapter two
Catherine
Sandburrow.
It’s the perfect place for me to bury my head in the sand, right?
My lips twitch at my own private joke. I’m grateful that George put on Robert Frost, although his poetry is even more depressing than my current situation.
This is the last place I want to be. The tiny seaside town where everyone knows everyone, and, of course, everyone has a feud with someone else.
Missy Downey once dated Heather Chapel’s second cousin twice removed. But then Missy broke up with him because he didn’t change his socks. So now Heather of course decreed Missy to be her sworn enemy.
There’s nothing else to entertain people.
Which means I’ll be a great source of entertainment.
It’s even worse that I find myself here with George Callahan of all people.
He was my first kiss. And he ruined that, too. Too much slobber and an unfortunate connection… with our braces.
Disaster.
First kisses are meant to be awkward but sweet. We had the opposite experience.
I should have known it would be bad.
After all, we only kissed because I asked him.
At the time, I thought it would be a romantic moment that would open his eyes to what I felt for him.
He was older (by three months) and more experienced (he’d kissed Evie Smythe under the slide in third grade), so I thought a kiss would be the perfect way for us to get together.
Nope.
It was the weirdest, most awkward thing you could imagine.
Even worse because we were in that weird first semester of high school.
When I look back, I think that’s the moment I realized we weren’t best friends.
Oh, we’d been growing apart for some time.
Being best friends through elementary school was no promise that we’d be friends forever.
Moving into high school was a natural place for that separation to occur. Unfortunately, without the bond of friendship, things took a turn toward rivalry.
We competed for the same awards. The same scholarships. The same prestige.
If I hadn’t won a scholarship in our final year to put toward college, he would have. This meant he would have ended up in college, and I’d be the one who never left Sandburrow.
George reaches over to stop the audiobook. “Before I forget, is your arrival a secret? I mean, obviously, it won’t stay a secret, but would you like me to avoid bringing you up to the townsfolk?”
He shoots me a blinding smile.
Oh, and this is one of the reasons why I hate him so much.
He’s the sort of man that Hallmark movies are made of.
Tall, with dark hair, a gorgeous smile, a muscular frame, and eyes that glimmer like diamonds when he teases.
Add to that the flannel shirt and jeans? He’s the sort of guy that a girl would give up her big-city dreams for.
Not me, though. I won’t be taken in by him.
He acts as though he doesn’t know he’s a total heartthrob, but I’m not going to be tricked.
No. I know him, and I won’t be one of the broken hearts he leaves in his wake.
“I don’t care if you talk about me or not,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly.
He doesn’t answer.
I make myself not think about the reasons why that might be. It doesn’t matter to me! I don’t care.
We pull around the last corner, and Grandma’s house comes into view.
It’s painted sage green with darker trim around the windows and gables. The front porch holds a swinging bench as well as a patio table.
The sight of it sends a whirlwind of emotions through me.
This is where I spent the best and worst years of my life.
All the indignities of being a teenager rush on me while, paradoxically, a swell of safety settles onto my shoulders.
“The roses are in bloom,” I note as George pulls to a stop on the white stones of the driveway.
Is it a good idea to come back here? I’ve resented Sandburrow for so long. I felt trapped here for too many years. Like that suffocating feeling when you wrap yourself in too many blankets, searching for comfort.
The front door opens, and Grandma comes out. She’s wearing a floppy sunhat and wearing the familiar old red overalls I've seen her in too many times.
A smile breaks over my face.
As much as I might dislike the town, there’s one thing that will always bring me back to Sandburrow.
I jump out of the truck. “Grandma!”
I rush to hug her. She laughs at the sight of me and opens her arms wide for me. I bury myself in her embrace.
And just like that, all the heaviness I’ve been feeling for three weeks now lifts.
“Well, I say!” Grandma hugs me back tightly. “I wasn’t expecting you until late. I don’t have anything made for breakfast, I’m afraid.”’
I release Grandma and step back, grinning. “I have a new recipe for crepes that I want to share anyway. I’m not here to get waited on hand and foot. You’ll have to put me to work.”
Grandma smacks me. “As though I’d ever just let you laze around.”
She looks so pleased to see me. I hope that she hasn’t heard the rumors about me and Crimson.
It’s only a matter of time before she finds out, though.
“I’ll grab my suitcase,” I say, turning back to the truck.
My stomach cramps as I do so. Because I should tell Grandma the truth of what’s happening before she hears any of the rumors.
A town this size, I can’t imagine it will be long before people talk to her about it.
But how am I going to explain it?
I pause as I gaze out toward the sea. Where Grandma’s house sits, we’re almost right on the beach. The beautiful golden-brown sand glistens in the sun. Trees and brush hug the edges of the property. Small sage bushes dot the beach, giving it more depth.
Down to one side, the beach turns into the rocky outgrowths and disappears into the brush.
Beyond that are the tidal pools.
The memories of exploring those places bring tears to my eyes.
“George, you better bring in Catherine’s things,” Grandma calls warningly from the porch.
I hurry to the truck. “No, I’ve got it.”
One thing at a time. I can figure out how I’ll tell Grandma everything later. Right now, I just want to settle in and enjoy her company.
The awful thing about this whole situation is that the rumors about me and Crimson are completely false.
But there’s a grain of truth connected to that falsehood. And that’s the reason I’m here.
I hurry to the truck, but it’s too high for me to grab my bag. I climb up over the tire to jump into the bed.
“Oh! George,” Grandma calls scoldingly.
“No, really,” I answer. “I want to take care of it myself.”
Her eyes narrow and her hands come to her hips.
I grab my suitcase as George pulls himself up onto the tire on the other side. “Are you sure?”
I glare at him.
The last thing I need right now is a man questioning what I do and do not want.
I’m here for a reason.
And it’s not because I’m taking a break from my job.
I quit
I’m jobless.
So, of course, I sold off all the stuff I didn’t want to keep, put the rest into storage, and gave up my apartment.
If it weren’t for Grandma and knowing I could always come here, I’d be homeless, too.
Well, maybe not. I could find another apartment for cheaper than the rent I was paying.
One month ago, almost to the day, Crimson invited me to one of his shows.
As a social media manager, I’d gone before. It was always a good thing for me to be part of the action.
It was fun.
Until it wasn’t.
I went to his dressing room after the show to tell him how much I enjoyed it.
And who was there, sitting in his lap?
Why… it was my mother.
Fifty-year-old June Hart, whose thirty-three-year-old daughter was the same age as the pop star she was making out with.
As though my mother hadn’t made my life difficult enough.
It was another slap in the face.
When I tried to bring up how uncomfortable it made me, June brushed me off like she always does.
So I quit.
June acted as though I was overreacting. Being too emotional.
I don’t care what she thinks of me.
But now it means I have no job and I’m jaded. Do I want to go back to the social media frenzy? Do I want to step back into the world of constant attention and scrutiny?
Well. Hopefully, once the rumors die down and people forget about me, I’ll be able to find a new job.
One where I’m working with a client who treats me professionally. And perhaps I won’t even have this scandal hanging over my head.
“I told you, I don’t like people messing with my stuff,” I tell him in a hiss.
George’s eyes widen. “Is everything okay?” he asks under his breath. “You don’t seem to be yourself.”
It’s the rawness of my situation that makes me want to snap back at him, demanding to know how he can say he thinks he knows who I am.
“Grandma will keep getting after us both if I don’t let you take it in, huh?” I ask meekly.
George’s brows furrow. It’s such a simple action, yet shows me something I don’t expect.
It’s not that fake concern I’ve grown used to.
Somehow, despite everything between us, he is genuinely concerned for me.
It’s just because of Grandma… but it still feels nice.
“Go ahead,” I sigh, handing him the suitcase. “I don’t want the drama of it, either.”
George nods, though he still searches my face.
I jump down on the other side of the truck, facing toward the ocean and away from the house.
Grandma mutters something and George answers, but I don’t hear their words.
When I glance over my shoulder, they’ve gone into the house.
Good. I need a moment to compose myself. This is all hitting me more powerfully than I anticipated.
As I gaze over the familiar landscape, my emotions calm.
I’m safe here.
Everything looks nearly the same. Even the old treehouse that George and I used to have sleepovers in is still in good shape.
I shake my head as I think of those nights. We were two innocent kids, telling ghost stories and trying to scare each other.
Only, when we did get scared, we always did our best to cheer each other up.
What I’m most grateful for is that Grandma is still healthy. I don’t visit as often as I’d like and often worry for her.
Balanced now, I head into the house.
While the outside looks much the same, the interior of the house has been gutted out. Plastic sheets hang over every doorway and inside the rooms are in various states of repair.
My jaw drops. “You didn’t tell me it was this bad!”
Grandma waves a hand. “Pa-shaw. I decided that it needed to be updated some. That’s all.”
George has put my suitcase on the stairs. When I meet his gaze, he grimaces. So Grandma isn’t being fully honest about this.
I open my mouth to argue but shut it again.
Nope. I can save that for later.
I hug Grandma instead. “I’ll put my stuff away and change into something else so I can help you in the garden.”
Grandma pats my back. “Good. Cause I have a lot for you to do!”
As I turn to head up the stairs, George laughs. “Let the gal have a rest, Lynn. She had a long drive from the city.”
“All the more reason to get to work,” Grandma retorts. She grins at him. “You’re just looking for a reason to get cozy, aren’t you?”
“Grandma!” My face burns with heat. “That’s so inappropriate.”
But George only laughs again. “You got me, Lynn. I’m a lazy good-for-nothing, aren’t I?”
“You certainly are,” Grandma agrees teasingly. She gives me a meaningful look. “Well? What are you standing around for?”
I fight a grin as I make my escape. Despite the heaviness weighing on me, I know I’ve made the right choice.
Just so long as George Callahan doesn’t go complicating things, that is.