Chapter Three

Now…

“How’s the haunted house looking?” Trent asked above the sound of the wind whipping through the open windows of the Jeep as they drove along Riverside Drive toward Rejuvenation Assisted Living the next day.

“Creepy,” Whitney said distractedly, typing furiously on her iPhone. She needed to get to Rejuvenation to convince her mother to take her pills, but shit was hitting the fan back at the office. The latest fall events promotion brochures had arrived that morning with a huge, glaring typo right on the front page.

Of course, Scott had been the one to discover it.

Arguing with the designers that she hadn’t approved a proof before they were sent to the printers was sapping her energy. And on top of that mess, a press release had gone out the day before with the wrong date for the Fall Carnival.

That one may have been her fault, but the damn font they’d used made it very hard to tell the difference between a 1 and a 7. Once again, Scott had been the one to call attention to the mistake. He did have a good eye, she’d give him that.

Trent placed a hand over the phone screen.

She shot him a look. “Did you say something?” she asked, swiping his hand away.

“I said, I hope you’re not taking on any of the work to make sure that the B&B is ready.”

“Of course I am.”

“Of course you are,” Trent said on a deep breath as he pulled into an empty space in the living facility parking lot.

Whitney glanced up from the email she was typing. “What’s that tone supposed to mean?” She turned in the passenger seat to face him.

Behind his dark sunglasses, she could see his disapproval. He thought she was a workaholic, and maybe she was. But that hadn’t bothered him when they first met. Back then, he’d admired her strong work ethic. And he worked long hours at the bar, ensuring its success, expanding quickly over the last few years. It was okay for him to be ambitious, but not her?

“It means that I think you’re overcommitting again.”

Whitney blinked. “Excuse me?”

Trent held up a hand. “Nope. You’re not getting an argument. I just meant that you do this—you take on way too much, and you wear yourself out.”

One time. The one time she’d shown any sort of weakness, passing out behind the wheel after several long projects, and he used it against her. Last time she showed any weakness, if she could help it. “I’m fine.”

Somedays, keeping her illness a secret, even from Trent, was the hardest part, but she had too much going on right now to have everything crumble around her. Pretending things were fine was the only way she could survive her heavy workload, and the latest bill from Rejuvenation reminded her how important it was to keep her employment.

These recent mistakes had her anxious enough. Scott lurking in the wings, ready to pounce on her position the moment she messed something up, had her suffering from nightmares whenever she did try to sleep. Being self-employed, his own boss, Trent couldn’t possibly understand the pressure she was under. If she told him, he’d only insist she take time off and start to take better care of herself. She knew she should, but that would mean relying on him more, and her independence streak was deep-rooted.

Being adopted at a young age, she’d never quite shaken the feeling of needing to be self-reliant, despite amazing, supportive parents and wonderful friends. She trusted Trent more than anything, but there was still a small part of her that kept a guard up in self-preservation.

Trent touched her shoulder. “You’re amazing. But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything for everyone all the time. You have your own career, your mom to take care of…” He paused. “And a wedding to plan.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So that’s what you’re worried about—the wedding. You think I’ll put off making decisions because I have all of this Halloween and fall stuff on my plate for the next few weeks.” Work was hardly the reason she refused to commit to wedding plans. Planning things was what she did for a living. She could bang out the details for the entire event in less than an hour with her extensive local contact list and hard-earned relationships in town with vendors. The time commitment wasn’t a factor in her delaying.

“Won’t you?” Trent challenged, obviously not willing to drop the issue.

“No. As a matter of fact, I decided on wedding colors yesterday.” Or right this second. She had to give him something. Get him off her back for now. She was too busy to keep having the same discussions.

“Wedding colors?” he asked slowly, as though it wasn’t quite a huge step forward.

She held her chin high. “A lot of other decisions depend on the wedding colors.” At least that’s what she’d heard Jessica and Sarah say. Or caught wind of it when she tuned out as they discussed wedding plans. Which seemed to be all the time…when they weren’t talking about the baby, of course.

“Okay. What are they?”

“The colors?”

Trent nodded. “Yes, the colors. What have you decided?”

Whitney fought to control the tightening in her chest. So much pressure. It was just freaking wedding colors. “Um…blue and silver.” There. Decision made.

“What shade of blue?” Trent asked.

Did it freaking matter? “A light blue…like sky blue.”

“Silver and sky blue. You mean like the Rejuvenation logo over there?” he said, pointing to the sign she was desperately trying not to stare at directly.

Damn. “Yes. Exactly like that.” She grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.

“Whitney.”

His voice made her pause, and the feel of his hand on her cheek melted her annoyance. He’d make things so much easier if he were an asshole. If the passion between them had faded in the years they were together, she’d have a reason to postpone their future together. If their friendship wasn’t so strong, it would be easier to hide her hesitancy. If he didn’t know her better than anyone, she could fake how she was feeling.

“I’m happy with any color you choose, and I’m okay with your indecisiveness. What worries me is why you’re struggling with this,” he said, brushing a thumb along her jaw.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. He was such a good man. Caring, loving, supportive… He deserved so much more than what she could give him. The words—the truth—were always just there on the tip of her tongue. But, as usual, she swallowed them back. “It’s nothing. I’ll make a decision soon. Lots of decisions.” Including the biggest one she hated to make.

She got out of the car, and Trent took her hand as they entered Rejuvenation. Right now, she had other things to worry about.

Inside, it was a relief to see that the seniors’ home looked the same as always. No fall or Halloween decorations in sight. They didn’t decorate for the seasons or the holidays. They kept the rooms and common areas the same so as not to confuse or hurt the patients who may not be aware of the passing time or seasons.

“Hi, Marla,” she said, approaching the reception desk. The attendant was one of her mother’s regular nurses and had been working with her for the more than two years since she’d moved her mom into the facility. Prior to that, her mother had been living with Whitney and Trent, but when the Alzheimer’s had gotten so severe that her mother had been afraid of them, they’d had no other choice but to do what was best for her. “How are things today?”

Please let one thing go right this week.

The nurse’s expression wasn’t promising. “She’s not having a good day.”

Whitney’s chest tightened. “Did she take her meds?”

Marla shook her head. “She keeps refusing. Whitney, I know you know what that means.”

Her mother would need to be moved to a stricter facility with doctors who had the authority to force her mom to take her medication. Or have an additional nurse assigned just to her mom’s care. Rejuvenation was for seniors with mild illnesses, those that needed a little extra help sometimes. Her mother’s illness was getting worse, and her time at Rejuvenation was limited, unless Whitney could afford the additional costs of individualized care. “I’ll try to talk to her,” she said. She took a deep breath, steadying her emotions, pushing everything else aside.

Days like today were the hardest.

Marla led the way down the hall toward her mother’s room. The sound of a seniors’ fitness class to their left and a bingo game being called in the dining room to their right had Whitney struggling with the sadness desperate to strangle her. This was such a great place for her mother. But trying to get her mom to participate in the activities here was a challenge. Her doctor believed that if she exercised and interacted more with the other seniors, her memory might improve a little, or at least it would slow down the progression of the aggressive disease.

But her mother preferred to be alone. She missed Whitney’s father, and the void in the woman’s heart was upsetting. Whitney missed her dad, too. With him gone five years now and her mother slowly slipping away, she would be alone soon.

She glanced at Trent and squeezed his hand tight, drawing strength from him.

“It will be okay,” he said.

She wished that were true.

Marla knocked on the partially open door. “Lydia, you have visitors.”

“I’m tired,” her mother said. “No visitors today.” Her back was turned to them, her gaze lost somewhere outside her window, at the ocean in the distance. Her hair was matted, and she was wearing the same nightgown and housecoat she’d been wearing when Whitney had visited two days before.

She needed to get here every day.

The staff did their best, but they couldn’t force residents to do things they didn’t want to do. Her mother needed her, and she couldn’t give in to exhaustion at the end of the day or use her own illness as an excuse. Her mom came first.

“These people are really nice. You’ll like them,” Marla said. She turned off the television and the radio and closed the curtains. Eliminating distractions made it easier to communicate and hold her mother’s attention. “Stay as long as you like,” she told them before closing the door.

“Thank you,” Trent said, sitting in the armchair next to the bed.

Whitney approached her mother. “Hi, Lydia. I’m Whitney.” Keeping her voice steady and eyes free of tears was the hardest part. Keeping the mood positive and light was essential not to upset her mom, and it was often the most exhausting part. Seeing her mother like this was torture. She used to be so strong and independent. She’d been a marriage therapist with a successful practice until she’d gotten sick. She’d done yoga every day and had been otherwise healthy. Now, she looked so weak and frail. Lost and alone.

Whitney choked on the lump rising in her throat and swallowed it down. She could break down later. In private.

Her mother looked at her.

Please come back. Please recognize me.

“Whitney. What a lovely name. My husband and I couldn’t have children, but I’d always liked that name.”

She nodded. “Thank you. You and your husband did have a child—you adopted a little girl late in life.” How many times had she said those words? It was important to be honest with her mother, remind her of things, but some days she thought it would be easier on everyone if they pretended to be visitors like Marla said.

A look of confusion appeared in her mom’s dark eyes as she shook her head. “I think you have me confused for someone else, dear,” she said.

Chest aching, Whitney smiled. “Did you want some help getting changed?”

“No, thank you. I just finished organizing my clothes.”

Whitney glanced at the dresser in the corner. Clothes spilled out over the overstuffed drawers. The closet was empty. Tomorrow, her mother would take everything from the drawers and hang it all in the closet. She did this on the days Whitney didn’t make it in for a visit. The doctor said it was her way of staying busy, feeling like she’d accomplished something.

Whitney went to the drawer and took out her mother’s favorite blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. “I like this. Can we put this one on?”

“I don’t think it will fit you, dear. You’re so tiny,” she said.

Whitney set the shirt aside. She’d try again later.

Her mother sent a sidelong glance toward Trent. “Psst.” She nodded Whitney closer. “Is he a cop?”

“No. He owns a bar in town. Trent’s Tavern.”

“Damn. I thought he might be able to help me.”

“I can still try to help,” Trent said, standing and approaching. “What do you need?”

Lydia waved him closer. He bent at the knees to listen and meet her gaze.

“The staff here are stealing from me,” she whispered.

“What are they taking?” he asked.

“My wedding ring,” she whispered, her forefinger and thumb circling her ring finger of her left hand. “I can’t find it. And now my husband thinks I don’t love him. That’s why he hasn’t been by to see me in a few days.”

Whitney turned away, needing a second.

Hallucinations were a side effect of the medication, but they gave her mom comfort. Without the meds the last few days, the visions of her father had stopped. Meaning other effects—the important ones that helped with these episodes of forgetting—had, too.

“Well, then we need to find it,” Trent said.

“Do you know where the nurses might be keeping it?” Lydia’s eyes widened.

“You know, you could be right that the nurses took it, but my guess is they put it somewhere safe for you,” Trent said, standing and scanning the room.

“Maybe…” Lydia said, not convinced.

Whitney watched as Trent opened a jewelry box on the dresser and retrieved the antique wedding band. “Is this it?” he asked.

Her mother’s face lit up.

God, she loved this man so much.

He handed her mother her ring, and she slid it on effortlessly. She’d lost a lot of weight since moving into assisted living. Refusing her meds often went hand in hand with refusing to eat or bathe or participate in activities. The ring dangled from her thin finger, and Whitney knew the nurses kept it in the box so she wouldn’t lose it for real.

“Thank you, young man,” her mother said.

“My pleasure,” Trent said. “But hey, could you do something for me?”

Lydia eyed him suspiciously. “Like what?”

He picked up her pills and a glass of water. “The nurses here really ride my ass when you don’t take these, so you think you could help a guy out?”

Lydia’s laugh made tears spring to Whitney’s eyes, and she wiped them fast before anyone saw.

“Fine. Hand them over,” Lydia said, taking them and washing them down with the water.

“Thanks,” Trent said, winking at her above her mother’s head. “Now, how about you change into that shirt and I’ll kick your ass at Gin.”

“You’re on,” her mother said before turning to her. “Can you help me?”

“My pleasure,” Whitney said, and she sent a grateful look to Trent.

What would she ever do without him?

…

After every visit to see Whitney’s mom, Trent always felt the tug of guilt at not seeing his own mother often enough. As the only male child out of five, he always teased that he was his mother’s favorite. And she always retorted that he would lose that place of honor if he didn’t start visiting more. He was the only one living in Blue Moon Bay, so there were no excuses.

After grabbing two pumpkin spice lattes from Delicious Delicacies, he headed next door to his mother’s shop, Frankie’s Fabrics. She’d owned the fabric store on Main Street since before he was born. As a kid, Halloween had always been a favorite of his. His mother would bring him and his sisters into the store as soon as the festive prints arrived before putting them out on shelves, and they’d each pick out their costume pattern and fabric. And she’d also make them Halloween pajamas for after trick-or-treating.

“Hello, hello!” he called as he entered the shop. He saw several women perusing the patterns and a few others matching colors to wall paint samples.

His mother’s head was barely visible above a tall stack of Halloween fabrics on the cutting table. “You better have caffeine,” she said.

He laughed as he carefully handed her a cup over the fabric pile. “Would I dare visit without it?” From September until January, his mother’s shop was hectic. Other times during the year, things were steady, but it was the last quarter sales that essentially kept the small shop in business.

His mother took a big gulp and shot him a grateful look. “Thank you! I was about to text Jess for a delivery.” Trent loved that two of his favorite people had shops side by side. He knew Jess was like another daughter to his mom, as his cousin had spent a lot of time at their home while her antique-dealer parents traveled the world, looking for treasures to sell in their own local shop. It also made him feel better knowing Jess was nearby in case his mother needed anything. She was in good health in her early sixties, but after watching Lydia’s health decline so quickly, he knew how fast things could change.

He scanned the fabrics. “Need some help?”

“Grab those scissors to your right,” his mother said, repositioning her glasses on the edge of her nose.

Trent grabbed them, set his own coffee down away from the material, and got to work. Each stack of fabric had the order pinned to it. Customer name and amount they needed. He knew his mother always cut 10 percent more, because she claimed everyone always underestimated how much they really needed. Of course, she charged them for what they’d initially ordered and they were none the wiser.

She took a secret pleasure whenever they’d come in and report they’d had “just enough,” never revealing her secret.

Trent knew how to cut fabric, having helped her in the shop over the years.

“So, good news,” he said. “We have colors.”

His mother’s eyes predictably lit up as she turned her attention toward him. She pulled out a stool and sat, allowing him to work while she watched. “Really? That’s progress.”

He nodded. He wouldn’t tell his mother that he called bullshit on it being progress and more that Whitney had felt trapped into giving him an answer about something. His mother loved Whitney and was so excited about the wedding. His mom was concerned about Whitney lately, just like everyone else, and he wanted to try to ease her mind a little. And a part of him was grasping at the hope that this one decision might lead to others.

“What are they?” Frankie asked, sipping the latte.

“Light blue and silver.”

His mother immediately shook her head, disappointment in her expression. “Those are Sarah’s colors. She’s already selected the bridesmaid dress fabric and is planning on a winter wedding. She and Wes already have a date.”

Damn. He knew it. He forced a laugh. “Well, then scratch that. We don’t have colors.” He cut along the length of fabric with a friendly ghost pattern on it and avoided his mother’s thoughtful gaze. “Sarah and Wes already have a date, huh?”

He was happy for his friends, and with the pregnancy the year before, they’d pushed off their wedding date, but it made sense they’d get to the altar first. They were so much in love. Sarah was an amazing mom to Wes’s daughter from a previous marriage, and the new family was picture-perfect, running an event center out of the B&B together and Wes’s construction company thriving.

“January first,” Frankie said. “I’m surprised Whitney didn’t tell you.”

“I’m sure she just forgot. She’s got a lot happening at work.” More likely she hadn’t wanted to tell him for fear of it spiking a new conversation about a wedding date of their own.

He could tell his mother was biting her tongue, holding back a similar comment. He appreciated her ability to know when he didn’t need any more doubt added to his own thoughts. “Hey, so I found a possible location for the third bar,” he said, tying a piece of string around the cut fabric and reattaching the order slip.

“Already? Wow. The Game Room location just opened a couple of years ago.” He heard a note of caution in her voice. He knew she was worried about him expanding too much too quickly, but truth was, his bar was the only thing besides his relationship that he’d been truly passionate about since he gave up weight lifting. Working out, competing had been an addiction, and giving it up had been difficult. It had left a huge gap in his life. The bar—and Whitney—had filled that gap.

He feared losing both…and the impact that would have on him.

“But it’s doing great.”

“That’s wonderful, honey,” his mother said supportively. “I can’t wait to see it.” Break over, she jumped off the stool and got back to work beside him. “I was thinking family dinner next Sunday? We haven’t all gotten together in a while. Kara will be back from college on break, and I’m inviting your other sisters and their families, as the kids are on some school holiday on Monday. They won’t have to rush back to the city. You and Whitney free?”

He nodded. “I am, and I’m sure Whitney won’t turn down the chance to see everyone,” he said, forcing more confidence than he felt into his tone. She hadn’t gone with him to his mother’s house the last several times he’d visited, and he knew his mother was desperately trying to be supportive and not show how upset Whitney’s absence made her. The two had always been really close, especially with Lydia’s failing health. He hoped to somehow help them get that closeness back.

“Wonderful,” his mother said with a smile. He knew that smile was hiding her own skepticism that she’d be seeing her future daughter-in-law next Sunday.

…

Then…

Trent had never introduced a woman to his family before. There had never been anyone else in his life who he’d wanted to take home. Family was the most important thing to him, and allowing someone close enough to join that tight circle had never happened before. Until now. With Whitney.

And luckily, in this case, his mother knew Whitney probably better than he did, being Jess’s best friend, yet Trent still felt nervous as the two of them walked hand in hand up the front steps to his family home on Christmas. Dating for more than two months, they’d really connected, and it was time to bring her home to “meet” the rest of his family.

Not as Jess’s best friend. But as his girlfriend.

Of course, he hadn’t exactly asked her to be his girlfriend yet. They hadn’t really put a label on what was happening between them. But they weren’t dating other people, and they spent practically every evening together… They still hadn’t had sex. A lot of kissing, touching, and intense make-out sessions, but they were taking their time.

But Trent knew he wanted her to be his girlfriend. He wanted her to be much more than that. He was definitely in love with her, but he was worried about saying the words too soon and scaring her off. Whitney was so strong and independent, he was nervous that maybe she didn’t want anything more serious than what they had. She was younger than him by almost eight years—he might be ready for the next chapter of his life, but she may not be on the same page yet.

His arms stacked high with Christmas presents, he allowed her to go ahead of him to open the front door.

The noise and chaos that greeted them from inside warmed him. He loved his big family and when they were all together like this. It didn’t happen often enough with his older sisters married and living in other parts of California and his younger sister, Kara, an annoying teenager who would prefer to be with friends than hang out with family.

But that day, everyone he loved was in the same room.

As they entered the living room, where his family had gathered to open presents, Trent’s nervousness grew. How did he introduce her to his older sisters, who may not really know her all that well?

“Hey! There he is,” his sister Rachel said, taking the stack of gifts from him. She eyed Whitney with unconcealed interest. “And who is this?” Her tone suggested his mother had filled them all in already on the fact that he was dating someone and was bringing that someone to Christmas for the first time ever.

His sister was setting him up.

“Um, Whitney, this is my sister Rachel. That’s her husband, Grant, over there and their son, Dawson. Sitting under the tree is Michelle, and that’s her husband, Craig, on his phone near the window…” Starting with the family was easier. It gave him a moment of reprieve before he had to decide how he was going to introduce her. “Those little troublemakers are my nieces Joy and Bethany. And you know my sister Kara.” He pointed to the teen, wearing her headphones and watching YouTube videos on her phone. He paused. Hesitated. “And everyone, this i-is…”

Whitney turned to look at him as he continued to hesitate and stammer. “Who am I, Trent?” she asked with a look of teasing challenge in her pretty eyes.

A room full of expectant faces waited for his answer. Sweat pooled on his lower back, and his mouth was dry.

He swallowed hard. “This is Whitney. My girlfriend,” he added, staring into her eyes. He held his breath as he waited for her reaction. He could sense the approval and acceptance from his family around them already, catching grins from the corner of his eye.

And when Whitney smiled, all the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Damn right I am,” she whispered to him as they joined the others.

Seated next to her under his family Christmas tree, surrounded by the sights and sounds of love and happiness, Trent knew he wanted to spend every Christmas, every Easter, every family event and every Sunday dinner with her there with him.

“This okay?” he asked her.

“This is perfect,” she said sincerely, squeezing his hand. “This feels like home.”

Trent couldn’t remember having made the holiday wish, but somehow he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.