3. Sean
THREE
SEAN
Heart’s Cove had changed in the years I’d been away. It’d been a little podunk town without much going on other than a bunch of hippies and artists that held no interest for a younger me, but now it was a vibrant municipality with many more restaurants and shops than I remembered. There was a buzz in the crisp late-autumn air, a vibrancy that filled me with a new kind of hope.
Then again, I’d changed since I graduated high school and got the hell out of here. Whether it was for better or worse, I wasn’t sure.
One thing hadn’t changed, though. The Heart’s Cove Hotel still presided over Cove Boulevard like an aging queen. Against overcast skies and framed by bare trees, the patched-up parking lot and fading paint made the hotel look like it was in desperate need of some TLC.
I parked in the lot next to another pickup and made my way to the lobby—and stopped dead as soon as I made it inside.
My aunts—my elderly , insane aunts—were perched on the top of two matching ladders on either side of the room, a gigantic garland of fake pine strung up between them. Christmas baubles bounced on the garland while tinsel rained down like snow.
Dorothy wore a flowing tunic over a pair of black pants, her wild gray mane of hair curling down to mid-back as she flung the garland over and back to try to get it dislodged from one of the sconces on the wall between them. One of those red Christmas balls flew off and cracked against the wall. Dorothy swore, and her ladder wobbled with every vigorous movement of her hands. I took half a step toward her before stopping in case I startled her and caused her to crash to her death on the floor.
Margaret, the older twin, clung to the other end of the garland and shouted at Dorothy to try to get her to stop being so violent with it. Every yank of the garland made Margaret buck like she was holding on to some crazed animal with a fraying leash. Her own ladder was actually a stepladder, and it had been propped on top of the reception desk, which was crazy. Margaret was supposed to be the responsible one. She wore a navy pantsuit with a silk shirt, her hair in a classic French twist, her lips painted in a deep red. She played tug-o-war with Dorothy with a Christmas garland, looking nothing like the prim, responsible woman I’d known her to be.
“Stop—Dor—Stop it! You’re going to rip it!”
“If I just”—Dorothy grunted as she tried to fling the garland off the sconce with a flick of her wrists—“just get it another inch...”
I cleared my throat. Margaret spotted me first and let out a cry of delight, which Dorothy must have interpreted as panic, because Dorothy whipped around toward me, holding the pine garland like she’d strangle me with it. Then her face cleared, and she recognized me. “Sean!”
Unfortunately, the rough whirling had set her A-frame ladder wobbling, and the delight on her face morphed to horror.
In three long strides, I was beside her. I grabbed the ladder to stop it from moving, but Dorothy had overshot her attempt to balance it. She let out a squeak, I held out my arms, and then my kookiest aunt landed on top of me. I staggered, caught my balance, and set her on her feet.
Without missing a beat, Dorothy flung her arms around my shoulders and planted a loud kiss on my cheek. “Sean! You made it! And you caught me! My hero!”
“Help me down, honey,” Margaret called out, still perched on top of the stepladder on the reception desk. A minute later, she was on her feet, planting a kiss on my opposite cheek.
My twin aunts beamed at me, and I forced my lips into an answering smile. My face seemed to creak at the effort of unfamiliar muscles straining to make the shape.
“Where’s Mikey?” Dorothy asked, glancing over my shoulder.
“Dropped him off at school before coming here,” I explained.
“You have to come over for dinner. Both of you,” Margaret commanded. “Hamish is a wonderful cook.”
“You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but it’s true,” Dorothy added, which made Margaret roll her eyes.
“Who’s Hamish? And why wouldn’t you know it to look at him?”
“Hamish is my lover,” Margaret answered. “He rides a motorcycle.”
“He rides a hog ,” Dorothy corrected.
Margaret nodded proudly. “So you’ll come for dinner?”
“Sure,” I answered, and my aunts smiled like I’d just given them the world. Despite my misgivings about moving back here, my shoulders relaxed. This was exactly the reason I’d made the move—family. Community.
Mikey and I had struggled in San Francisco in the three years since the divorce, and even with child support from my ex and as much work as I could manage, I hadn’t been able to make the numbers work. Living was more affordable in Heart’s Cove, and my aunts had made sure to put in a good word for me with a local carpenter. So not only was I walking into a full-time job, but I might also actually be able to finally gain some stability. My son might have a chance at a better life. I’d be able to watch him grow up instead of catching snippets with him while I shoveled dinner into him and sent him to bed.
That’s when the door at the back of the lobby opened, and a man a few years older than me stepped out wearing a denim shirt and tan work pants. He nodded to me and turned to my aunts. “Easels are fixed. I put some extra bracing on a few of the wobblier ones, so you shouldn’t have any more art class mishaps.”
“Wonderful,” Dorothy exclaimed, smiling. She pushed her hair over her shoulder and gestured to me. “This is our nephew, Sean. Sean, this is Grant, the lovely young man we told you about.”
Grant’s lips curled slightly at that description, since he looked like he was pushing fifty, and he reached over to shake my hand. He had an easy, friendly look about him, but he studied me with incisive eyes. “Heard you were looking for work.”
“I am,” I told him. “Just moved back to town with my son.”
“Things generally slow down in the winter, but I’ve been swamped with projects leading up to the holidays. If you’re happy to start today, we can head over to a job after this. New kitchen, all custom joinery. We can talk about the particulars and see if the two of us are a good fit.”
“Sounds good,” I said. If things worked out with Grant, it’d be one less thing to worry about.
“Fantastic!” Margaret said. “I knew this was a good idea.”
“Technically, it was my idea, but who’s keeping track,” Dorothy put in.
Margaret ignored her. “Now you boys go on and get to work. Dorothy and I will finish up here.”
I glanced at the garland, then at the precarious stepladders, then at Grant. When I arched my brows, he grinned.
“We’ll give you a hand,” he said, and I figured I liked the guy for that alone. Ten minutes later, the holiday decorations were up and my aunts were still alive, so Grant and I headed out to a job across town.
I followed him in my truck and took a deep breath, my shoulders dropping another inch as I relaxed into the seat.
A job, a good school, my two remaining family members, and a smattering of people from my past. Things could be worse. I could be struggling through fourteen-hour days, keeping my son in San Fran on the off chance his mother decided to blow through town and see him between her business obligations.
Now I had something , at least. The beginnings of a support system. A chance. Maybe I’d be able to get my head above water after all this time.
I even had an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner at Aaron’s house. I followed Grant’s truck onto a winding road lined with huge houses, and I smiled at the run-in I’d had the day before with Aaron’s younger sister. She hadn’t changed either. Well, not as much as I felt like I had. She didn’t look like life had chewed her up and spit her out the way it seemed to have done with me. Even when I startled her, she’d smiled through it. Being next to her had always felt like standing in a ray of sunshine. She attacked life like she could smile it into submission. It was completely foreign to me—had been when I was a kid, too—but I’d always liked being around her. She still had those cute red-apple cheeks and those dark, dark eyes. Still clumsy as all hell, too.
I shook my head. I’d hesitated about coming back here. I wasn’t sure if I could ever be at home in this town with what had happened here growing up. But it was as good a place as any to try to start fresh, and Mikey had seemed cautiously optimistic about the school when we’d gone there together this morning. The robotics club had impressed him; his eyes had gotten that interested gleam I hadn’t seen in a while.
Maybe I could take a leaf out of Lizzie’s book and believe that everything would turn out okay. The thought made me slightly uncomfortable, so I decided to believe that things would turn out, if not okay, then at least not disastrous. And if disaster was in my future, I’d deal with that, too. Always did.
Familiar bitterness swept through me at the thought, and I forced it down. This was a fresh start. Stability for Mikey. Everything I needed to take care of my kid.
Grant’s blinker came on as he slowed his truck, and then he turned into a long driveway leading to a beautiful home. I followed him, took a deep breath, and pushed all thoughts of old friends and dark eyes out of my mind.
What mattered now was making a good impression, getting this job, and making sure my son settled in as well as he could. Everything else was secondary, including how it felt to be driving these roads again and the effort it took to keep old memories at bay.