“Is this Wednesday or Thursday?” Frances asked.
“It’s Thursday.” Kyla looked up from the cash register and watched Frances tap on the wall calendar with her index finger.
“I’m having lunch with Donna today. I’m glad I asked. I’ve been thinking it’s Wednesday all morning.”
Kyla’s heart twisted. She’d reminded her only half an hour ago what day it was. Frances’s memory seemed to be getting worse by the week. Although that probably had a lot to do with the fact that Kyla was here now, and witnessing it in person. Still, it worried her, and she knew she was going to have to call Stella and Marley soon. They needed to come up with some kind of plan moving forward. If things continued like this, Frances wouldn’t be able to handle the house by herself, let alone the candy shop. And that meant there would eventually be hurdles for her to clear. Would she give the women she thought of as daughters the power to help her? Emotionally, as well as legally? They were questions that would need to be answered soon, for Frances’s sake.
“I haven’t seen Donna in forever,” Kyla said, picturing Frances’s very best friend, with the dyed red hair and penchant for swearing. They were quite a pair. “How is she?”
“Oh, you know Donna. Full of piss and vinegar.”
Kyla laughed, letting her worries fall away for a moment. It was a beautiful morning. Main Street sparkled after last night’s rain, and the sun shone in through the big front window, lighting everything up in gold. They’d just unlocked the front doors, but so far, the shop was empty. Peaceful and quiet after the relative chaos of their after-dinner rush last night. Kyla was glad. It was nice having this time alone with Frances.
Jacques stretched dramatically from his princess bed on the counter, looking like a chubby miniature lion.
Kyla gave him a scratch underneath the chin, and thought about Gracie coming in to see him the other day. She’d been so cute the way she’d made a beeline for the cat, leaving her poor father in her dust down the sidewalk.
At the thought of Ben, her chest tightened. Good grief. She needed to get a handle on this before it got to her. Or he got to her. Whichever came first.
“It looks like it’s going to be a pretty day,” Frances said, putting her hands on her hips and staring out the window. The tourists were just starting to make their appearance—walking down the sidewalk and peering in the shop windows. Soon, there’d be a steady stream, and it would be lunchtime before they knew it.
“Not much wind,” she continued, “which is nice. Sometimes I think it’s going to blow me away up there at the house.”
Kyla came out from behind the counter, and put her arm around the older woman. She was taller than Frances, but only by an inch or so. She could remember looking up at her as a little girl. Looking up to her. Frances had been her first real example of a strong, squared-away woman, which was something she came to aspire to. At the same time, that aspiration had made her feel guilty—disloyal to her mother, who had always struggled with everything in her life. Addiction, men, her self-worth. And most of all, it seemed, being a parent that her daughter could count on.
“I can remember it blowing so hard during storms, I thought the entire house would fall over,” Kyla said. “And the power going out. Remember that? We all used to pile in your bed and tell ghost stories?”
Frances laughed. “You’d get so scared.”
That had been right after her mother died. On her worst nights, Kyla would imagine her own mom as a restless spirit, drifting over the old Victorian, looking for all the things that had eluded her on earth. It had taken a long time for that image to disappear, but the feeling had remained. And the question of whether or not her mother was finally at peace now, after a lifetime of sadness and despair. It was one of the reasons why Kyla had to leave Christmas Bay. The need to run from those questions, and from those lingering feelings of doubt, had been all-consuming. But they’d followed her anyway.
Even now, even all these years later, she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been taken from her mother when she had, if she would’ve been able to prevent the worst of it. Maybe. Maybe not. But the choice had been taken from her, too.
Swallowing the ache in her throat, she gave Frances another squeeze before wrapping her arms around herself, as if warding off a chill.
“There’s Ben,” Frances said.
Kyla looked up. “Where?”
“Driving by. See?”
Sure enough, there was his cruiser heading toward the police department, a bronzed arm waving outside the window. A woman on the sidewalk waved back.
Kyla pursed her lips, trying her best to ignore the fluttering of her heart. Ben Martinez was like a celebrity in Christmas Bay. Everyone knew him. Most everyone seemed to like him. This wasn’t unlike high school, when he’d stepped onto the football field to a collective roar on Friday nights. Kyla had tried to block a lot of Ben out over the years, but these memories stubbornly remained. Mostly because as a kid, like everyone else, she had been in awe of him. Not just of the football player, but of the boy. Handsome, kind, on the verge of ruling the world. She’d been smitten. She’d been in love. At least, what she’d understood of love at the time.
Until he’d betrayed her.
The front door opened with a little tinkle of the bell, and Kyla looked over, shaken out of her memories. But when she saw Hunter Mohatt in his hoodie and threadbare sneakers, she felt her shoulders slump. Uh-oh. She really didn’t feel like chasing him down the street again.
Taking a deep breath, she resisted the urge to tell him to leave. How would he learn if nobody ever gave him a chance? Even so, she steeled herself as he approached, ready to stop him in case he shoved something up his shirt. Then she really would press charges, and would feel more than justified doing it.
“Hi there, honey,” Frances said. Completely unaware this was their shoplifter from the other day.
“Hi,” Hunter mumbled, looking embarrassed.
Good, Kyla thought. He should be embarrassed. She was glad he was getting a good look at Frances today, seeing for himself how sweet she was. If Ben’s lecture didn’t get through, maybe something as simple as this would. He sure seemed uncomfortable. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he was just hungry for some licorice, and had a crazy amount of gumption.
“I know you’re probably not too excited to see me,” he said to Kyla.
“I’m just surprised to see you,” she said. “That’s all.”
He took an audible breath, and his gaze shifted to Frances, who was watching all this with a curious expression on her face.
“You two know each other?” she asked.
Hunter’s cheeks colored. Kyla had only been in his presence twice, but blushing seemed to be an endearing quality of his. Although, it probably drove him bananas.
“I took your tip jar the other day,” he said to Frances. “I just came back to say I’m sorry. It was dumb. It was just sitting there, and...” It wasn’t any kind of excuse, but it appeared he already knew that. He blushed even deeper. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
Kyla’s heart squeezed. He had this effect on her. Either he was being honest, and he really was sorry, or she was the worst kind of sucker.
“We all make mistakes,” she said. “They’re a part of life. The most important thing is to learn from them and move on.”
He nodded.
“I’ve owned this shop a long time,” Frances said, “and can honestly say you’re the first person who’s come in to apologize for taking something. We’ve gotten a few notes over the years, but never anyone in person. You’ve got guts, kid.”
He shrugged. “I just felt bad.”
“Well, we think you’re very brave,” Kyla said. She walked over to the jar of Tootsie Pops and took the lid off. “Have a Tootsie Pop. On us.”
He was probably too old for such a sentiment, but she couldn’t help it. He just looked so baby-faced today.
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“I heard that Chief Martinez came to talk to you,” she said. “He likes you.”
Hunter unwrapped the Tootsie Pop and put it in his mouth. “He just doesn’t want me getting in trouble anymore,” he said around it.
“Well, no. But that doesn’t mean he can’t like you, too.”
He took the sucker out with a smack. “My Dad was mad, but it would’ve been way worse if you’d pressed charges. He’s got a bad temper.”
Kyla didn’t know what “way worse” meant, but she didn’t really have to know the specifics. She remembered Ben telling her how rough his home life was.
“I don’t know why he cares so much,” Hunter mumbled. “He does worse stuff. At least I took the money for a reason.”
Kyla’s brows rose. A minute ago, it had been because the tip jar was just sitting there.
“And what was that?” Frances asked.
“My Mom’s been needing some stuff around the house. Stupid, but you know. That was like, what I was thinking at the time.”
Kyla recognized the look on her foster mother’s face as the words settled between them. Growing up, she’d seen it too many times to count. In fact, Frances had worn that look the night she’d picked Kyla up from children’s services, and had taken her up to Cape Longing for the first time. It was a mixture of empathy and compassion. Of knowing exactly what you might be going through, even if you might not understand the enormity of it yourself. That look had a way of melting even the toughest of hearts. Kyla should know—it had eventually melted hers.
“What kinds of things does your mom need, honey?” Frances asked.
“Oh. Nothing. It’s no big deal.”
Kyla and Frances exchanged a glance.
“My Dad wouldn’t like it if he knew I was here,” Hunter continued, looking nervous all of a sudden. “He was pissed that Chief Martinez even came to talk to us. Pissed at you too, I think.”
Kyla frowned. “Why me?”
“He probably blames you for the cops coming to our house in the first place. Even though it was my fault. My Dad doesn’t need a ton of reasons to be pissed, though. He’s mad pretty much all the time anyway.”
Kyla didn’t even know what to say to that. What she wanted to do was put an arm around his skinny shoulders, offer him some more candy and fix his crappy home life for him. But of course, she wasn’t any fairy godmother, and this definitely wasn’t some kind of small-town fairy tale. It was real life, and real life was messy and complicated, and sometimes you just had to stand there not knowing what to say.
“Here.” Frances walked over to the counter. Then wrote something on a sticky note and handed it to Hunter. “This is my number. I want you to call if you ever need anything, okay? Even if it’s just to talk.”
An outsider watching this unfold might think Frances would make an unlikely ally for a fifteen-year-old boy. Her platinum-blond hair, her bedazzled sweatshirts, her penchant for calling people honey and sweetheart. But an outsider would also see what Hunter most likely did—that she was offering because she meant it. Not because she wanted to fill the void, but because she was a genuinely good person, with a big heart.
Kyla took an even breath. Who knew if Hunter would ever reach out? The odds weren’t great. But there might come a time in his young life that proved too much for him to handle, and if that time came with that sticky note in his pocket...who knew?
“In the meantime,” Frances said, “you come back and see us again, okay? You’re always welcome here.”
Hunter smiled, and Kyla had a moment of wondering if he was actually holding back tears. But before they could say anything more, he turned and walked out the door.
Frances put her hands on her hips and eyed him through the window—heading down the sidewalk, pulling his hood up as he went.
Kyla watched him too, and wondered if a caring adult had ever given her their phone number as a kid, if she would’ve used it. It was impossible to know.
She glanced over at Frances. “What was that you were saying about tough love?”
“Oh, you know. I’m getting soft in my old age.”
The door opened again in a swoosh of salty sea air, and this time it was none other than Ben Martinez.
Kyla’s belly dropped. This guy was everywhere.
“Well, look who’s here!” Frances said. “What a nice surprise!” She walked over to give him a hug. Then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. It wasn’t easy—he towered over her, but he bent obligingly down, as if used to having to do this on the regular.
He looked especially handsome this morning in his uniform and a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. And when Kyla realized she was staring, she cleared her throat and reached for the broom in the corner so she’d look appropriately busy.
Ben smiled, swiping the glasses off and tucking them in his uniform pocket. “I need to stop by more often. Greetings like that are hard to come by.”
“We don’t kiss all our customers,” Frances said. “Only our favorites.”
His gaze shifted briefly to Kyla and she felt her cheeks warm. She’d never kissed a customer in her life, favorite or no, but his eyes were teasing just the same. And before she knew it, she was imagining what it would be like to kiss him. To wrap her arms around his trim waist, and feel his mouth on hers.
She had to turn away before he could read the look on her face.
“I was just heading back to the station,” he said, “and ran into Hunter out there. He said he came by?”
Frances scratched Jacques behind the ears, and he began to purr. “He came in to apologize, if you can believe that. I told him he’s the only one who’s ever apologized in person for shoplifting. That was a first.”
Ben nodded. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m really not. There’s something about him. I think he’s special.”
“And he looks so sad,” Frances said.
Kyla swept the broom over the floor half-heartedly. She thought he’d looked sad the day he took the tip jar. Today, he’d looked beyond sad. Like that weight on his shoulders was getting heavier. Harder to bear. Of course, it was impossible to know what kinds of things Hunter truly struggled with, and how much of those had to do with his family life, but Kyla had to wonder.
Ben put his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his boots. “I picked his dad up the other night at The Pump House. He was threatening another patron. Pretty much par for the course.”
Kyla frowned. The Pump House was a local bar. It didn’t have any of the seaside ambiance that the other two bars in town had, and therefore wasn’t as preferred by the tourists. It served mediocre beer, and lots of it. Kyla had always hated the place. It had been a favorite haunt of her mother’s in those early days when Kyla was little and being left alone more and more.
She stopped sweeping, and looked down at the small pile of dust she’d gathered, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories. Most of them were confusing, volatile. Some, she couldn’t even picture clearly, because she’d been so young. They came mostly in the form of feelings—chilly, or downright cold, like sitting in a drafty house without a sweater. But some of them were happy, and those were the ones that she clung to so fiercely. Those were the ones that demanded her loyalty to her mother, even after all her failings. And there had been plenty of those.
She felt Ben watching her. Felt the heaviness of his gaze all the way to her bones.
“Are you okay?”
She forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, too,” Frances said. “Ben, you know Hunter better than we do. How do you think he’d do with a part-time job?”
“Frances...” Kyla began.
“Now, I know what you’re going to say. Being able to trust him and all that. But it’s not like he’d be here by himself. One of us would always be with him. We could start out with just a few hours on the weekends to see how it goes.”
Ben looked over at Kyla and raised his brows. They both knew Frances didn’t need anything else on her plate right now. Especially a teenage boy who was clearly in the midst of acting out, whatever his reasons might be.
This wasn’t like Frances, who was usually so careful about things. But at the same time, it was exactly like her. It was like her usual shrewdness was being stripped away, leaving nothing but her tender heart underneath. Kyla wondered if this was what the memory loss would end up doing—make her as vulnerable as a child.
“I know you probably think this is crazy,” Frances said, evenly. “But it’s a way to help. We can make a difference here, and this town could use a little more of that, if I’m being honest.”
It was hard to argue with that, since Kyla herself had been rescued by exactly this kind of logic.
Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “Normally, I’d try to talk you out of this, Frances. But I can see you’re serious as a damn heart attack.”
Her blue eyes sparkled.
“So, I’ll just tell you to use your best judgment. Keep an eye on him, which I know you’d do anyway. And if you need me, I’ll only be a few doors down.”
Frances smiled. “Okay, then. We’ll wait to see if he comes back. And if he does, I’ll take that as a sign, and ask if he’s interested. Who knows? Maybe he’ll tell me to take a flying leap. But I don’t think so. This would be a chance for him to make his own money. But mostly, it’d be a chance for him to get out of his house for a few hours at a time, and do something worthwhile.” Her gaze settled on Kyla. “Do I have your blessing on this, honey?”
“You don’t need my blessing. You know I’ll support you, whatever you want to do.”
After a few seconds, Ben clapped his hands together. “Well, ladies, I’d better get going. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork.”
“Wait!” Frances opened one of the bins and stuffed some gummy worms into a little white bag. “Give these to our girl, okay?”
“You’re going to spoil her.”
“Yes, but all little girls need to be spoiled. It’s the law.”
“Is it?”
“You should know. You’re the lawman around here.”
Taking the bag, he winked and turned to go. And as he walked out the door, the sun on his broad shoulders, Kyla’s stomach twisted. No matter how confident Frances was about offering Hunter a job, she was still uneasy about the possible fallout. She knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until she made sure that Ben was okay with it too, and not just saying he was to be polite.
“Be right back, Frances.”
“Where are you going?”
“I just want to thank Ben for watching out for things. With the shop and everything.” That was true. But not the whole truth.
Frances seemed satisfied, though, and headed back behind the counter.
Pushing the door open, Kyla hurried after him.
“Ben!” she called. “Wait up!”
He turned, and smiled that smile. The one that sent shivers up her spine, in spite of everything.
“What’s up?”
She pulled her sweater close. It would be a few hours before it really warmed up. She could hear the waves crashing against the beach in the distance, knowing how icy the water would be, even though it was summertime. That was the Oregon coast for you—beautiful, but colder than a polar bear’s toenail. As Frances liked to put it.
“I know you’re busy,” she said, “but I just wanted to make sure you don’t think this is the worst idea in the history of ideas?”
“What? The Hunter thing?”
She nodded.
“Honestly, I’m not worried about him,” he said. “He’s harmless. But I do worry about how much Frances should be taking on with this memory loss, though.”
“So, you’ve noticed?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“I know she seems pretty sure about things, and most of the time, I think she is. But other times...”
“Just remember,” Ben said. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Kyla’s chest warmed. It was hard not to be taken in by that. She couldn’t deny there was a part of her that wanted to lean into it. Let him watch over her, just like that old song. But then she’d remind herself that she only needed his professional opinion, and that was it.
Someone called his name from across the street, and he turned to wave. He really was a Christmas Bay celebrity. There was a pink smear on his jaw, and she smiled as she recognized Frances’s lipstick from her kiss earlier.
He turned back and caught her looking. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you’ve got something...right here.” She touched her own cheek.
“Where?” He rubbed his fingers over the lipstick smudge, but it stayed put. He could thank Maybelline for that.
“Right...there.”
Kyla stepped closer and pointed, but he wasn’t getting it.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Just lipstick. From when Frances kissed you. Here...let me just...”
She reached up and rubbed her thumb over it. And the feel of his stubbled jaw sent a jolt of electricity through her core.
“There,” she said, stepping quickly back. “Got it.”
“Thanks. Couldn’t have gone back to work like that. Too many wagging tongues around here.”
That was the understatement of the century. Kyla guessed if he had gone back to the station with lipstick on his face, word would’ve spread by tonight that he was having some kind of sordid affair. That was just how small towns worked. Not a lot of room for privacy, but a ton of room for made-up stories.
“I’m guessing you might not have missed that about Christmas Bay,” he said. “Not as many gossips in Portland?”
“There were probably just as many gossips, but people were just too busy to notice.”
“Not here. You have dinner with someone, and boom. It’s The Real Housewives of Jackson County.”
She laughed. Then remembered why she’d chased him down in the first place. And it didn’t have anything to do with his dinner plans.
“Okay,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Well, thanks. I guess we’ll just see what happens with Hunter.”
He nodded as she took another step back. It seemed like she was always trying to tear herself away from Ben in one way or another. He was like a magnet that kept pulling her in, despite all her efforts to resist.
She remembered feeling that way as a girl, too. Even after he’d told the school counselor about her mom. Even after her anger at him threatened to swallow her whole. She’d still been drawn to him. To the thought of him, and even now, that scared her.
He watched her, his dark eyes revealing nothing. If Ben was drawn to anyone or anything, it didn’t show on his handsome face. It was unnerving to be feeling this upside down, with him looking so relaxed and in control. She had to wonder if she made him feel anything at all.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said again.
As if she’d forget.