ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON at exactly three o’clock, Rita Tomlinson brushed her hands down the sides of her best black skirt and pulled open the door of the Southern Comfort Café.
She really wanted this job.
The fragrances—pies baking, burgers frying and coffee brewing—filled her senses and calmed her down. The bang and clatter of dishes and soft Southern accents somehow sounded like home, even though this wasn’t her home.
“Rita?” A man her age, maybe a little older but surely not sixty with those muscles, held out a hand. He wore an open-collar dress shirt and dark pants, typical restaurant manager attire, but his shaved head and the tattoo peeking out from rolled-up sleeves suggested another side to him. “Jimmy Cooper. Come on back where it’s quiet.”
The café was about half-full, a mix of young and old, black and white, some late lunchers and some who’d clearly stopped in for an afternoon snack or coffee. The decor was classic: chrome and vinyl chairs surrounding aluminum-edged tables, retro pictures and record album covers on the walls, a row of stools at a long lunch counter.
Jimmy—or should she call him Mr. Cooper?—indicated the back booth on one side of the café, and as she slid in, she noticed his subtle once-over. She was old enough not to mind. Her looks had held up okay, but at fifty-six, the attention she’d gotten twenty years ago was a thing of the past.
And who knew: maybe she’d been a real looker back in her teens. The thought bounced into her mind and knocked at her confidence, and she lobbed it away. Years of experience had taught her it was best to avoid thinking about the missing part of her past.
They made a little small talk and then she handed him her résumé, which he took the time to scan.
“Good experience,” he said when he looked up. “You’ve waitressed mostly in truck stops, though. Our clientele is a little more...” He trailed off.
“Refined? I can clean up my grammar.”
That made him laugh. “Believe me, yours is better than most I interview. And our clientele is mixed. We’ve got everything from local homeless to rich tourists looking for an authentic Southern breakfast.”
“How are the tips here? And the food?” Of course he wouldn’t talk down his own restaurant, but she needed to know she could speak her mind, that he wasn’t expecting her to act like she didn’t know which end was up.
“Most people tip well. Food is excellent. Our cooks are experienced, mostly been here quite a while.” He went back to studying her résumé.
She hoped the cooks hadn’t been here for twenty years or longer. All the reconstructive plastic surgery had changed her, but she didn’t know how much. She didn’t need to get recognized before she figured things out.
He looked up and tapped the résumé. “So, Maine? That’s a far cry from South Carolina.”
“I’m ready for a change. I still need to work, but I’m gonna play like I’m retired in my off hours, and I’d rather do it on the beach than the ski slopes.”
“Found a place to live yet?” He looked a little skeptical, and she could understand why. People just passing through tended to apply for jobs like these.
“Just signed my lease yesterday,” she said. “I’m living in a little rental a couple blocks over. Magnolia Manor apartments? I can walk to work.” Which was one reason she’d chosen the place and why she wanted this job. “But I do have a car,” she added quickly, to show that she was stable and dependable.
He looked down at her résumé again, and she took the opportunity to scope out the restaurant. The two waitresses she could see—one behind the counter and one carrying a tray to a table—were hustling, busy, but she noticed they stopped to chat with the customers. Nice. For some people, their meal out was the only social contact they had all day, and Rita liked to take the time to joke around with them, give them a laugh or a boost.
“Any arrests?” Jimmy looked at her hard.
“No, sir. And I never took a penny from a cash register. Good with math, too, not like the kids. I don’t need the calculator on my phone to count change.”
He smiled, and a little zing of recognition passed between them, making Rita’s pulse rate speed up a little. It might be fun to work here in ways she hadn’t anticipated.
“Do you need benefits, or are you on your husband’s plan?”
Oldest way in the world to find out marital status. She wondered whether it was because Jimmy preferred married waitresses for stability or because he preferred her single for other reasons. “No husband,” she said, “and, yes, benefits would be a help. I’m surprised you offer them.”
“I like to do the right thing by my employees. In return, I hope they won’t dump me for the first fancy seafood restaurant that offers them a job.” His brown eyes were still studying her in that thoughtful way that made her glad she wasn’t a liar or trying to cover something up.
Well, in a way she wasn’t.
“I’m not a fancy person,” she said truthfully. “This is my kind of place.”
They talked through more of the details, uniforms, paperwork and mandatory drug testing, and she realized halfway through the conversation that she had the job. He confirmed it by asking, “When can you start?”
“Tomorrow, if you’d like. Or do we have to wait for uniforms and test results?”
“Just wear a white shirt and black pants. I’ll get you a couple of aprons in back.”
“Great. Glad you don’t do the old-fashioned diner uniforms.”
He chuckled. “You’d look good in one, but no. Pants are more practical and more comfortable.” Then he smacked his forehead. “Not supposed to make any personal comments about an employee. Forget I said that.”
“If that’s the worst you say, I’m fine.” Like her, Jimmy was old enough to have grown up before political correctness. And while she welcomed all the improvements for working women, she wasn’t one to turn away a kindly-meant compliment.
He led her back into the kitchen, and again, it was a familiar world. Huge pots simmered on the stove, and she peeked into a couple, spotting collard greens and bean soup. She inhaled the smells and appreciated the laughing and joking, and the fact that the fun didn’t stop when Jimmy came around. Meant he probably wasn’t a jerk as a boss.
He introduced her to the two younger cooks and then to a tall, white-haired, stoop-shouldered African American man. “This is Abel. He’s been here longer than I have and knows everything.”
The man laughed quietly. “Not the case, but I’ve fried a few eggs in my day.” He leaned down to look at Rita more closely. “Seems like I’ve met you before.”
Rita’s heart pounded, both with fear and hope that he might know something about her past. But she shook her head. She didn’t recognize him. “I doubt it.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Really?” And then he seemed to read something in her eyes. “Beg your pardon, ma’am. I must be thinking of somebody else.”
As they said their goodbyes and Rita walked out of her new place of employment, she fingered her necklace, the sea turtle, palm tree and shark’s tooth that she’d been wearing when T-Bone had found her. She didn’t know much. But she did know she’d had to come back here if she was to ever recover that part of her life.
She just hoped she liked what she discovered.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON, ANNA cleaned up the cabin and fixed the girls real homemade mac and cheese from the groceries they’d bought. The domestic activities soothed her. She could arrange the little cottage the way she wanted to. Didn’t have to worry about whether the dinner would be to Beau’s liking, and what would happen if it wasn’t. Could wear her old clothes and forget about makeup.
She could almost forget about the possibility of Beau tracking them down.
After dinner, she gave in to the twins’ begging about going down to the beach. It wasn’t a hardship. As a child, on that one family vacation, she’d fallen in love with the ocean. When she’d gotten back home, she’d bought beach posters and worn beach perfume, all of which seemed outlandish in Montana, but she’d always dreamed of coming back.
Just not under these circumstances.
Anna’s heart almost burst when she saw the sea, foamy waves crashing rhythmically to a white sand beach. Beside her, the girls went still, their eyes wide.
This was the scene she’d dreamed of, locked inside the house in frigid Montana. Warm sand under her feet, sea breeze in her hair and the delight of the girls’ faces as they took in the ocean for the first time.
“It’s big!” Hope said finally.
“What’s that noise?” Hayley asked.
“It’s the waves,” Anna explained. “Come on. Take off your shoes. It’s too cold to swim, but we can wade in the water.”
Hayley kicked off her sneakers and sprinted toward the ocean, and Anna called her back and gave both girls a serious safety lecture. Jellyfish stings were nothing to laugh about, and riptides could sweep away a grown person, let alone a five-year-old.
Once they’d given her a solemn promise to stay together and at the very edge of the water, not in deep, she hugged them and shooed them off. “Go have fun. Careful fun.”
Then she watched as they ran ahead of her, holding hands. She blinked back surprising tears and looked up at the sky, going golden as the sun sank lower. If only they could have come here without all the trauma beforehand, for a vacation.
But being here with Beau would have been no vacation at all.
Shaking off that thought, she followed the girls and waded in, relishing the cold water around her ankles, the sand squishing up under her feet. Hayley was already ankle deep, jumping and splashing and squealing, but Hope hung back.
“Just stand a little closer and the water will come to you,” she encouraged her shy one, and Hope inched forward. When water washed over her toes, she giggled and took another small step.
“I’m not afraid like she is,” Hayley boasted. But when a big wave came in, wetting her up to her knees, she leaped back into Anna’s arms.
They played and ran and laughed until the western sky turned a gorgeous shade of orange-pink. Not wanting to leave the beach quite yet, Anna pulled spoons and cups—makeshift beach toys—from the bag she’d brought, and showed the girls how to build a sandcastle.
They got engrossed, and Anna stood and stretched her back.
When she looked toward the dunes, there was Sean, headed their way. He’d kicked his shoes off, too. Wearing loose beach shorts and an old T-shirt, he looked like something out of a surfer magazine.
For giants. Anna swallowed.
“Having fun?” he asked, smiling toward the twins, who were too caught up in their castle building to notice him.
“Yeah. It’s their first time at the beach.” Then, because she was so tempted to relax and enjoy his company, she got right to business. “What’s up? Did you talk to the cottages’ owner?”
“Yes, and she okayed your staying here for a week or two, more if it works out,” he said. “She has a soft spot in her heart for women and children in need.”
“How much did you tell her?” Anna asked, feeling uneasy. The more people who knew about her and the girls, the more chance Beau would find them.
“Just enough. As long as your references check out and you do a good job, you can stay as long as the work lasts. You have references?”
“A couple.” Her friend Sheila and a long-ago pastor. She hoped it was enough.
“It’s mostly physical labor, cleaning and landscaping.” He studied her, curiosity darkening his eyes. “Don’t know if you’d be interested. It’s not exactly glamorous.”
Anna lifted her chin. “Physical labor is fine with me.”
“Mommy!” Hope shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized Sean was there. She hunched and turned back to the sandcastle, blocking the adults out.
“Are they scared of me? Is that why they don’t talk?” Sean asked quietly.
“They talk just fine!” She hated when people assumed that just because they didn’t talk, they couldn’t. Her girls were perfectly bright.
“I know—I heard them,” Sean said equably, “but it seems like they won’t talk in front of strangers. Are they just shy?”
All her anger whooshed out of her, replaced by her constant, nagging concern for her girls. “It’s a condition called selective mutism.” She sighed. “And, yes, I’m worried about it, especially since they’re getting old enough for school.”
“They haven’t been to preschool?”
“No.” Beau wouldn’t let me enroll them.
“Hmmm,” he said, and she read the judgment in his eyes. No school, no beach—what a limited life they’d had. And it was true. She’d done her best to keep their world open, taking them to museums and parks when Beau was at work, but it hadn’t been enough. The worst of it was that there hadn’t been much room for friends.
For Anna, either. She was out of practice with people.
As they’d talked, she and Sean had started strolling slowly, reaching a spot where the dunes dipped down toward the beach. Sea oats blew and rustled, and among them, she spotted small white flowers and knelt to smell them. “White freesia. So beautiful.”
“You know the plants here?”
“I read a lot about plants.” She’d been perusing South Carolina guidebooks at the public library for months, and she was naturally drawn toward the nature parts.
“Think you could figure out some sturdy ones to plant around the cabins?”
She looked back toward the cabins. Landscaping around them would be a blast.
And the girls... Their faces were relaxed and peaceful, soothed by the fresh air and sound of the waves. Her heart warmed and opened as she watched them dig in the sand.
She made a quick decision. “I’ll stay the week and help you with landscaping as much as I can. After that, we’ll see.”
“What about your girls?”
“I’d have them with me. Would that be a problem?”
He shook his head. “Not a problem for me if it’s not for you. But there are day cares and sitters in the area if you’d like to give them that.”
Day cares she couldn’t afford, and besides, with their speaking problems and anxiety issues, spending days with strangers wouldn’t be right for them now. “No, I’ll keep them here. Maybe take them to that after-school library thing the woman was telling us about this morning.”
“That’s great.” Sean seemed to mean it. “We’ll figure out the details Monday morning, but meanwhile, let me know if you have any questions about the job.”
She looked up at him, feeling uneasy. Speak up. You have to learn to speak up to protect yourself and your girls. She swallowed and put a hand over her twisting stomach. “I’m just... Look. Is that guy, Tony, going to be around? Yasmin said he was your brother. But she also told me about the trouble with his ex.”
Sean hesitated. “Actually...”
At the sound of a shout, they both turned. There was a man coming over the dunes toward them, too far away to see clearly, and Anna instinctively stepped toward her children. “Who’s that?”
“It’s Tony. He’s going to be working with me.”
Alarm bells went off in Anna’s head. “I changed my mind. I can’t stay here. We can’t stay here.” She crossed her arms and squared her shoulders.
He tilted his head to one side. “So you heard one person mention a connection to abuse and you’re assuming the worst about him?”
“I heard his ex pressed charges,” she corrected. “It sure didn’t sound like empty gossip. Was it?”
Sean blew out a sigh. “No. No, but the charges were dropped.”
The man in question reached them. “Hey,” he said, smiling at Anna, letting his gaze sweep over to the twins. “Thought you were alone out here, buddy.”
“This is Anna George. She may be doing some work for us.” Sean’s voice was completely emotionless.
“Sounds good. Place could use a woman’s touch.” Tony held out a hand to shake.
Anna stared down at the sand, pretended she didn’t see it.
There was a beat of silence. Anna looked up and saw both men looking at her.
He’s an abuser. You don’t have to be nice to him. She clamped her mouth shut and let the images she usually tried to avoid crash into her mind.
Beau throwing a steak against the wall because it wasn’t cooked to his liking. Beau putting a hand to her throat and squeezing, just enough so she could feel how strong he was, so she’d know what he could do if he wanted to.
Beau yelling at her in front of the girls, terrifying them. And that last time, Beau knocking her to the floor, kicking her with his big pointed cowboy boots while she tried to crawl away, to get to her sobbing girls hiding in the front closet.
All the shame and anger and fear washed over her, loud and overwhelming as waves in a storm. Nausea churned her stomach, and she clenched her jaw and raised her eyes to look from Sean to the man who’d apparently done something similar to his wife.
After a couple of beats of silence, Tony spoke. “There’s some damage up at Cabin Three.”
Her cabin. Immediately, her mind switched from past troubles to present dangers.
“What damage?” Sean asked. “It was fine last night.”
Anna’s heart thudded a heavy, anxious rhythm. “It was fine just an hour ago.”
“Paint on the outside of the cabin. Didn’t look like anyone had broken in. I checked the locks.”
The thought of this Tony guy creeping around her cabin made her skin crawl. As did the thought of someone defacing the place she and the girls were calling home, however temporarily. Could Beau have found them?
Tony’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it.
If Beau had somehow gotten here and found them, she needed to collect the girls and leave ASAP.
“That’s your cabin.” Sean frowned at her. “Do you have a history in the area you didn’t tell me about? Enemies, old boyfriends?”
“No! I don’t know anyone here!”
Tony’s phone buzzed again, and he looked at it, groaned and stepped away from them to answer.
Anna looked up at Sean to find him scrutinizing her. “Are you telling the truth?”
The nerve! Hands on hips, she faced him. “Of course I am! I don’t know anyone here, let alone anyone who’d do something to try to upset me.” She pushed down her uneasiness. She was worried about Beau finding them, but she was almost certain Beau was still back in Montana.
Sean continued studying her for a full thirty seconds, and she met him, glare for glare.
“Okay,” he said finally. Then he gave a sideways nod toward Tony, now engaged in a conversation that looked heated. “So you’re entitled to the benefit of the doubt, but he isn’t?”
“I didn’t... Oh.” She guessed she was condemning Tony without knowing the whole situation. “You really think he’s a safe person for my girls to be around?” she asked skeptically.
“I know it. I’ve known him for twenty years. He’s not perfect, but he would never hurt anyone.”
Well. Sean seemed sincere, which counted for something. Not everything, but something. Anna brushed back strands of hair that were blowing in her eyes. She looked at her happy girls and thought about the difficulties of moving again, versus staying here and earning some money, outdoors, with her twins beside her. “He’s not staying out here?”
“No. He has a place in town.”
She could keep her girls away from Tony. And Sean seemed convinced that his foster brother posed no risk.
Tony clicked off the phone and came back, looking frazzled. “She won’t leave me alone. Anyway, if you want, I can get rid of that paint tomorrow. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you want to see on a place you’re staying. Or that you want those girls to see.”
“Why? What does it say?” Anna asked, forgetting to be hostile toward him.
“A couple of swear words—insults—in big red letters,” he said.
Anna’s heart gave a great thud and then raced, making it hard to breathe. It had to be Beau. Who else could it be?