The Parent Pick-Up (Return to Starlight Bay #19)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ivy

If the GPS is to be believed, we’re exactly two minutes away from our new life, our new house, and hopefully a functioning shower.

“Are we there yet?” Olivia cranes her neck past the pile of boxes in the backseat, her unicorn sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown.

“Almost.” I roll up the window and glance at the estimated time of arrival on the GPS. “Two more minutes.”

Olivia bounces in her seat. “Yay! Do you think I’ll be able to see the ocean from my room?”

“We’ll see,” I say, not wanting to make more promises to my daughter I can’t keep. I’ve already made too many.

The road narrows the higher we climb, and the houses grow sparser. Tucked behind evergreen trees and flowering shrubbery on large, expansive lots, the houses are just as charming in person as they were online.

I can’t quite believe I’m the owner of one of these cute little bungalows on the coast. I can’t wait to have a cup of coffee on my wide front porch.

My heart races double-time as our house comes into view. From this distance, it looks charming.

Weathered cedar-shake siding, oversized windows, and a bright blue front door—it looks welcoming in a well-loved kind of way.

I’d bought the place on a whim. Sight unseen on an online auction. The inspection had shown it was solid, if in need of a little tender loving care. And the price had been too good to pass up.

I’d pictured weekends spent fixing up the place like a mother/daughter HGTV special. My handyman skills plus Olivia’s creativity? The place would be magazine cover worthy in no time.

Then, I pull a little closer, and the illusion shatters.

The house needs a lot more than TLC. It might need a bulldozer.

Peeling paint. A porch that slouches like it’s had a long day. Weed-choked gutters and a cracked front window.

It’s a long way from prime time.

“It’s not so bad,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice while inside I’m dying.

“It looks like a gingerbread house,” Olivia says from the back seat. “I love it!”

I wouldn’t go that far, but I don’t want to dampen my daughter’s spirits. “Let’s leave the luggage for now and check it out.”

The humid air slaps us in the face the second we step out. I instinctively hit the lock button on the car even though we’re alone on a cliff, and the nearest neighbor is probably a pelican.

Years in the city have created habits that are hard to break, but I seriously doubt a pelican is going to steal my SUV.

Olivia bounds up the sidewalk, her dress billowing around her spindly legs like butterfly wings. I follow quickly behind, scanning the dilapidated porch for exposed nails or uneven wood.

The porch seems surprisingly solid despite the peeling paint and sagging floorboards. Bougainvillea vines spread along the railing, filling the air with their sweet fragrance.

Olivia peers in the windows, her thin shoulders shaking with excitement. “Look, Mom! A piano!”

My heart jumps to my throat. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “And it looks lonely, like it wants you to play it.”

It’s been years, but suddenly, I can feel the smooth keys under my fingers. Hear the echo of a chord hanging in the air. The thought of playing again lights me up inside.

I dig into my bag for the keys, juggling the bundle of labeled keys I latched onto my car fob. The whole jangling mess slips from my fingers and drops to the weathered floorboards.

We both watch as the keys hit the porch floor, bounce once, then drop through a splintered gap between the boards.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

We peer down between the slats. I kneel and try to wedge my hand through the crack, but it’s too narrow, and the distance to the ground is too far.

“What do we do now?” Olivia’s voice wobbles.

Normally, she’s all sparkles and sunshine. But lately? The sparkle fades fast. She's been quick to tears, quiet in the car, clingier at night.

Something’s going on beneath that heedful of springy blond curls. Something I haven’t had the courage to face.

Not now, though. Right now, we need to get into our house before the sky opens up.

I pull out my phone. “We’ll call the realtor.”

It rings once. Twice. “Thank you for calling Starlight Bay Realty. Our office is currently closed. Please leave a message—”

“Hello.” I try to keep my voice steady. “This is Ivy Ickerson. I just bought the place up on Seaside Ridge and I need another set of keys. I seem to have lost mine in a bit of a predicament…”

My voice trails off and I hang up.

Olivia’s eyes fill. “Now what?”

I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Now…we check the back door. It will be an adventure.”

We tromp around the house, dodging more jungle. The air gets heavier by the second.

Olivia sprints ahead. I trample over a thorny bush that wraps around my ankle. Slapping at the angry vine, I lose sight of Olivia.

“Stay where I can see you!” I call, but she’s already gone.

After untangling myself from the bush, I race to catch up. By the time I spot Olivia, she’s halfway through a small open window.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”

A cold wind blows up from the sea, and the first splats of rain drop from the sky.

“I found a way in!” Olivia shouts.

“I don’t think so! This is how every horror movie starts. All that’s missing is the creepy music.”

Olivia pushes all the way through the small opening and turns around to peer at me. “You said it’s an adventure.”

“Wait!” I hand her my phone. “Use the flashlight. And go straight to the front door. I’ll meet you there.”

A fat raindrop nails me right in the eye.

I race back around to the front, my sandals slipping in the wet grass. As I sprint to the front of the house, the sky splits open, and rain comes down in sheets.

At least Olivia isn’t getting wet.

The cold rain bites through my baggy overalls, and it’s hard to see through the hair plastered to my face. I finally make it to the shelter of the drooping porch and stand shivering while Olivia makes her way through the house to open the door for me.

She’s taking forever. What if something happened? There could be a rabid raccoon in the piano, or a snake in the curtains.

My stomach knots as my mind runs through all the things that could possibly go wrong. I never should’ve let her go in alone. I’m a terrible, irresponsible, no-good mother.

Finally, I hear the lock click and the front door creaks open.

Olivia stands there grinning triumphantly. “We’re in!”

I step inside, dripping and exhausted. The air smells like dust and mold, and the room echoes with emptiness. The furniture is draped in white cloths, like lumpy ghosts, and an eerie feeling slides down my spine.

I try the lights, but they don’t come on. Great. I add calling the electric company to my to-do list.

Then, I see the piano.

It calls to me despite the chaos. I walk over, nearly stumbling over the leg of an end table.

When I reach it, I feel instantly calm. My fingers brush the keys. I press one, and it rings out, the sound pure and aching.

My past flashes before my eyes. Being on stage in front of a cheering audience, pounding on the keys with pure passion. There’s nothing that can quite compare.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A blaring alarm pierces the air. It’s so loud, we both cover our ears.

A mechanical voice shouts from somewhere near the door:

“SBI Security activated. Please identify yourself immediately.”

Olivia freezes. “Are we getting arrested?”

I grab her hand and pull her close. “Not if I can help it.”

Not exactly the fresh start I had in mind.