CHAPTER SIX

“Mom?” I managed to open the truck door and slide out of the cab.

Mom was here.

She’d actually come to Whickett Harbor.

She rushed up, threw her arms around me, and burst into tears. “Jane!” She cried in huge, hiccupping gulps.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help blurting the question out.

Mom opened her mouth to answer, but before she got a chance we were interrupted by a man coming around the side of the house. He was as tall as Dad, muscular, and he had light brown hair with too much product in it.

“Honey,” he said to Mom, “I tried the back door, but I don’t think—oh, hello. This must be Jane.”

“Who’s he?” I asked, my stomach twisting. At some point Dad had gotten out of the truck and now he’d put his hands on my shoulders. The weight of them was comforting.

Mom paused. “Well . . . you see . . . I . . . this is . . . uh, Erik.” She paused. “Erik, meet Jane and Emmett.”

Erik came up beside Mom and thrust out his hand for Dad to shake. Then he bent down to me, resting his palms on his knees.

“Hello there, Jane. Aren’t you a pretty little girl! You look just like your mom.”

Mom and I both have blue eyes and black hair, but unlike me, she actually styles hers. I wanted to kick him in the shin, but Dad squeezed my shoulders.

“Mom,” I said, “why is he with you? And why did you come all the way here? I left you a message saying I’m fine. See?” I gestured to my completely intact body.

My mother cleared her throat, and then she smiled the way she did when she knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“Actually, Jane . . . we were planning to visit you soon anyway, and then when you were missing, I got so worried . . .” She turned to Erik and he nodded encouragingly. “Erik suggested we book tickets on the first available flight, which was a red-eye, so we flew into Portland overnight, got a rental, and voila!”

She did a little dance step and struck a pose.

Erik laughed. “Thank goodness the airport was open. We were worried, but fortunately Portland is far enough inland that they didn’t get hit. The drive here was pretty crazy, though. I had to take a million detours, and—”

I interrupted. “Why were you planning a visit?”

Mom and Erik exchanged glances. Mom looked nervous, but Erik nodded again. A big grin spread across his plastic-looking face. He had the straightest, whitest teeth I’d ever seen.

“Erik has been curious to see where I grew up, and we have some special news that we want to share with you in person.” Mom stuck out her hand.

On her finger was the biggest diamond ring I’d ever seen. Apparently, Erik was rich. “Ta-da!”

In the decade since Mom had left me and Dad to go to Hollywood, she’d had fourteen different addresses, four different career paths, and at least a dozen boyfriends.

But this was the first fiancé.

“Congratulations,” Dad offered.

I didn’t say a word.

“Jane?” Mom prompted.

Dad nudged me and I mumbled the word congratulations.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, Jane,” Erik said. “We’re going to be a family! Isn’t that exciting?”

Listening to Erik speak to me as if I were a toddler made me want to puke. Exciting? Try nauseating.

“Who knows?” Erik continued. “You might be spending a lot more time with us now that your mom and I are settling down on my estate. I’ve always wanted kids.”

Mom cringed. “Erik—”

I could already feel the tears pooling behind my eyes, but then Erik said the one thing that could have made the situation worse.

“Oh, and someone left your mail on your front step without even putting it in a box or anything.” Erik frowned as if this were the craziest thing he’d ever encountered, then waved a plain white envelope in front of my face. “Looks like a letter came for a Ms. Jane Brannen from a certain magazine! Your mom told me that you submitted your first short story for publication.”

I gasped. Mom had told him? That was supposed to be a secret!

Erik carried on, oblivious. “That is so awesome. Susan and me . . . we can give you some great writing tips. If this is an acceptance letter we’ll go out to celebrate. How about that, huh?”

I’d been waiting weeks for this letter. Girl Power magazine published a short story from one of their readers every month, and I was determined to get in. Even though everyone was staring at me, I couldn’t help it. I tore open the envelope.

Dear Jane,

Thank you for sending “Two Princesses of Penmore” for our review. Although we loved your creativity and imagination, unfortunately we’ve decided to pass on publishing your work. Girl Power receives over two hundred stories every month from girls across America, and since we publish only one work of fiction in each issue, we’re forced to make difficult choices.

Please feel free to submit new work in the future. We wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

The Editorial Team

In pen someone had scrawled: Your writing shows potential. Keep in mind that many of Girl Power’s readers are older teens, so princess stories might seem too young for them. We’re looking for stories that are relevant to today’s modern readers.

My heart stopped. My writing was irrelevant? I burst into tears.

“Jane—” Mom said, and then Erik said something that sounded like an apology, but I ran inside, slammed the door behind me, climbed the rickety steps to my bedroom, and flung myself on top of my old patchwork quilt.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard my father’s work boots clomping along the floorboards. Then the bed sank low and his strong hand stroked my back in soothing circles.

“Aww, sprite.” Dad sighed. “Sorry about the rejection letter. You’ll get in next time. I know you will.”

Sure. He had to say that because he was my dad.

“I know that’s not all that’s bothering you,” Dad continued. “It was a shock to see your mom today . . . and her . . . fiancé.”

My sobbing doubled.

“Your mother . . .” Dad stopped, then tried again. “Your mom and Erik . . . they shouldn’t have sprung that news on you so soon. Would have been nice if they’d come in and had some coffee, asked about the hurricane cleanup, checked if you were prepared for school on Monday . . . but that’s never been your mother’s way. She’s always been impulsive, and that’s not likely to change. Still, she loves you the best she knows how, and she wants you to give her a chance.”

“A chance for what? To steal me away?”

“No one’s taking you away,” Dad said. His voice was firm, but the only reason Mom didn’t get joint custody the first time around was because she didn’t ask for it. She’d decided to move to California, so it wasn’t as if I could shuffle back and forth on weekends. Now, however, things might look different. Dad was still a bachelor living in a backwoods town fighting to get grants to fund his research, and some judge might think I ought to try living with Mom and her rich husband.

“Dad,” I choked out, “there’s no other choice. You have to get married, we need to move into a better house, and you need a more secure job. Right away.”

Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “Wait. What?”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “It’s the only way to show that you’re just as stable as Mom.”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead. “We’re not moving, my job is secure, and I’m not getting married.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Could we back up to the part where we were talking about your mother?”

I shrugged. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to say.

“She and Erik are staying for a while,” Dad told me. “Apparently, he’s a movie director and he’s between shoots, and she’s working on a new script, so they’ve rented the cabin down by the pier.”

I groaned. “How long?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” I burst into a whole new flood of tears. “Does she realize school starts next week?”

Dad shrugged. “She wants to bond. With you. And Erik.”

“As a family?” I plucked a tissue from the box beside my bed and blew my nose. “Dad, he looks like a Ken doll.”

The corner of Dad’s mouth quirked up, but then he shook his head. “And since when do we judge people based on what they look like?”

“Since never?”

“That’s right. Three weeks, sprite. You can make it that long. Then they’ll head back to California and things will return to normal.”

How could Dad miss what was right in front of his face?

After all these years my mother had finally returned to Whickett Harbor with a wealthy, sophisticated fiancé who wanted a family.

Me and Dad? We were doomed.