Chapter Four

It took an entire afternoon, a filling steak dinner, and two glasses of wine for Stephanie to shake the tournament-induced anxiety attack that nearly crippled her at the Saint Joe soccer fields. She may not have ever made it beyond the parking lot if it hadn’t been for little Macy, yanking Stephanie’s arm nearly out of the socket the whole way. It was by sheer will that she’d survived cohabitating with the masses. Of course, any time Joe or Rebecka asked how she was holding up, she’d forced a smile and pretended to be doing “just fine.”

Right now, with a full belly and a bit of wine in her system, “just fine” was finally an accurate statement.

“Wow, Joe,” said Stephanie. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

Her brother-in-law had always been a wiz when it came to grilling, but tonight’s meal had been a masterpiece. Even her picky nieces hadn’t thumbed their noses at any of it. The girls had just made a beeline inside to catch a new episode of some cartoon she’d never heard of while Becka had gone in to hunt for a second bottle of wine.

Joe gave her a wink. “My pleasure. It’s not every day our family celebrity graces us with her presence. A good meal or two, and we’ll have her convinced about moving back to Michigan in no time.”

“I was never a celebrity.” Only married to one.

She looked toward the kitchen’s sliding glass door. Where had Becka gone to get the second bottle of wine, anyway? Indiana?

“Never a celebrity? Are you kidding me? All the work you did with the ‘Fun in the Sun’ sports camps? If it hadn’t been for you, how many kids in Southern Florida would never have had the chance to try soccer, tennis, or golf? Anyone who can get a kid outside and away from video games these days is a modern-day hero in my book. Hopefully, it’ll even keep a few of them out of trouble down the road.”

Stephanie looked out over the backyard, and her gaze settled upon two orange cones that marked an imaginary soccer goal. Unlike her girly-girl sisters, sports had always been in her blood. And competition. The need to prove herself, steal attention back from Rebecka and later Livvy. In her younger days, that might have been motivation enough for getting in on the ground level with the FITS foundation.

Over time, her needs had changed. She had changed.

“I didn’t help start FITS to try and earn hero status. I was just bored, sick of being home by myself all the time. FITS was a way for me to pass the time and have a little fun, you know? Get my kid fix.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, darn the wine. She kept her gaze trained on the cones and hoped like hell Joe hadn’t heard it. But of course he had. One of his large man paws came to rest upon one of hers. Instinctively she pulled her hand back, refusing to be coddled or pitied for the pathetic turn her life had taken this spring. Heck, had taken since college.

“Steph,” he said softly.

Hot tears stung her eyes. Rather than toss him the kind of snarky response she so desperately wanted to, Stephanie remained mute and waited for her lower lip to stop quivering. Double-darn the wine.

“Oh, hey now.” Joe traded his seat for the one next to hers, then pulled Stephanie into his bear-like, fireman’s chest. “Kids can still happen for you.”

She shook her head against him. “I’m out of time, Joe. The risk for complications goes up every day.”

“Women much older than you are out there having babies, Fannie, and those kids are turning out just fine. Once you’re ready to start dating again, I’m sure you’ll find some amazing guy faster than—”

“No.” She pulled back and swiped a hand under each set of leaky lashes. “No dating. I’m done with men. They’re traitorous pigs, all of ‘em. Oh, well, except for you, of course,” she added quickly. “You’re the exception to the rule. That, and you know Livvy and I would kill you if you ever thought of leaving Becka.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smirk. “Look, men can be pigs, I’ll give you that. But don’t let one bad experience ruin the rest of your life.”

“Who said I’m letting anything ruin my life?” Joe’s right brow rose ominously, and Stephanie squirmed beneath the weight of the look that accompanied it. “What? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“How long has it been since you left the house, today excluded?”

She tipped her chin skyward. “I leave the house nearly every day.”

“In broad daylight. Without a disguise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“That’s what I thought.” He stood and retrieved his beer, then took a long drink. When he brought the bottle down from his lips, he turned to stare out at something in the far corner of the yard. “You know, I never pictured you to be a quitter.”

Stephanie’s jaw dropped open. “I’m not a quitter!”

“Oh, yeah?” Joe’s gaze slid to hers. “Then prove it.”

“How?”

“Go back to the inn, nail this interview, and get on with your life. Date, have fun, face your fears, and conquer them.”

She snorted, undeterred by his mind games. “I don’t need a week at some small-town bed and breakfast to face my fe—uh, get over my divorce. All I really need is a distraction, something to take my mind off Jerkwad.” She leaned back in her seat. “You know, being around your kids today has been a terrific distraction. Maybe I could stay here this week, and you and Becka could take my room at the inn. You two could go on a long-overdue vacation, get away for a few days. Doesn’t that sound great?”

“Doesn’t what sound great?” Becka asked from the sliding door, a bottle of wine in her hand.

“You and Joe swapping places with me for the week. Wouldn’t you love to be spontaneous for once? Have a little romantic getaway?”

“Sure,” Rebecka said. “But not this week. Joe has to work, and the girls have fine arts camp. Oh, and Mom’s joining us for church in the morning.”

“M-mom?”

Rebecka tipped her head to the side. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? She’s been going with us for a few months now. We pick her up, then go out for lunch afterwards. Family time, you know. I fibbed that you wouldn’t be getting in until Monday to give you a chance to settle in, but I can always say you arrived early.”

“Family…time…”

Church. Lunch. Her mother.

The anxiety beast reared its ugly head once more. It was one thing to play it cool in front of Becka, or to have a moment of weakness in front of Joe—stupid, stupid wine—but could she survive an hour-long sermon at their mega church? Or two long car rides and lunch with her mother?

Sometimes, her older sister just didn’t play fair. It looked like she would have to go back and face her demons all on her own after all. Or learn how best to ignore them on her own.

Or with Miles. Funny, how often he had popped into her mind today. Each time, her anxiety level had actually dropped at the thought of him. Not what she had expected, but nothing she planned to act on, either. Maybe he would be a sufficient distraction from reality for the week.

“You know, the more I think about it, maybe us swapping places isn’t such a good idea.”

“It’s up to you, sis. If you really want to stay, we can try to work something out. Heck, Joe and I might have more luck looking for that temporary man of yours than you would.”

Stephanie froze in mid-sip. “My what?”

“Livvy didn’t tell you?” said Becka.

“About the engagement fib? Oh yeah, she tried to sneak it into the tail end of our conversation after I got off the plane, then skirted the topic when we talked last night.” She shrugged. “No biggie, I’ll just tell Evanston she was confused, and we’ll let it drop.”

Becka exchanged a quick glance with Joe. “Steph, Evanston told Livvy he was looking for someone confident, stable. Emotionally stable—not someone fresh off a divorce doubting herself and her abilities. Livvy got defensive about you, and—”

“And the engagement fib was born.” Stephanie ran a hand through her hair. It irritated her to no end that Livvy had gotten her trapped in a lie—with the man who would hopefully be her future boss, no less—but she understood. If someone criticized one of her sisters, Stephanie would have stuck up for them, too. She shook her head with a sigh. “Well, lucky for me, people don’t usually bring their fiancés with them to job interviews.”

“No,” said Joe. “But if your sister told him your fiancé works where the interview is held, there might be some level of expectation built in.”

“Works where, at the Checkerberry Inn? Who—” Stephanie stopped, the answer plain as the nose on her face. She turned wide-eyed to her sister. “Oh, no. No, I can’t ask him to do that.”

“Of course you can,” said Becka. “You and Miles go way back. I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out.”

“Happy to help?” Right. This was the guy who’d dropped out of her life a decade ago. Nothing said ‘happy to help’ like bailing on your bestie. Plus, she’d more or less told him to get lost last night, that his help wasn’t needed no matter how many times he’d offered it. Now she was going to have to go back and eat crow if she wanted any chance at landing the job she’d traveled all this way in the hopes of getting?

Stephanie downed the last of her wine and looked to the sky, wishing for a little divine intervention…because that seemed like the only way she was getting out of this big mess without jeopardizing her career plans.

“Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

…

Miles sat at home that night behind his desk, a half-empty bottle of Labatt Blue in one hand, a Techworks job application in the other. How many times had he read it over now? Five? Ten? So why hadn’t he gone ahead and filled it out yet?

He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a good long drink. His parents hadn’t thought twice before moving to Nebraska when an opportunity came knocking after he finished high school. Hell, they’d had half the house packed and movers hired before bothering to tell him. And here he was, agonizing over the idea of possibly leaving Ruby and the others?

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was worried he’d leave a trail of hurt like his parents had. And the Mastersons had had more than their fair share of hurt over the years. Would Brent ever speak to him again if Miles left? Would he be furious to discover that care of the inn and Ruby was now fully upon his shoulders?

Miles rose with a growl and tossed the papers onto his desk. What did it matter if Brent was furious? Miles had put in more than his fair share of time playing financial caretaker to the Checkerberry, to Ruby. He loved his grandmother to death, but his time here had meant putting his career on hold.

Why did he have to give up all of his hopes and dreams to keep hers alive?

He downed the rest of his beer and headed toward the garage, intending to chuck the bottle into his recycling bin and be done for the night. But his brain was working faster than the alcohol, and the thoughts he was trying to numb were surfacing whether he wanted them to or not. So he grabbed beer number three and detoured out the back door to settle into his favorite seat, propping both legs up on the deck’s wooden rails. Rails he and Brent had measured, cut, built, and stained by hand. Rails he’d propped his feet on countless times before.

Rails that, tonight, felt less like home and more like those belonging to a jail cell. If he chose to keep the rails, the house, his current job, that’s exactly what he would be doing to his career, to his future—locking them up and throwing away the key.

If he passed on Freddie’s offer, would it mean more than just another lost opportunity? Would it would become a source of spite he might forever feel toward the others? He didn’t want to feel that way toward Brent, toward Ruby. They were his family—his true family—and he loved them above all else.

To stay might create an irreparable rift between them, and he couldn’t do that. In fact, he’d hate himself for it. And that hate would undoubtedly eventually spread to them.

Why subject them to what was sure to be an ever-growing bitterness surrounding his own circumstances?

He wished he had other opportunities here, something that would keep him close. Hell, something he could do on the side to shake things up a bit. But Mount Pleasant wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis and never would be. The only things that changed around here were the names on mom-and-pop shops with every swing in the economy, and the slot machine locations at the nearby casino. Neither offered him much in the way of hope.

His gaze shifted to the modest backyard spread before him, dappled with brown as the surrounding woodland trees’ roots competed with those of his lawn for moisture. A yard that over the years had held many parties for friends and neighbors, one that spoke of functionality and bachelorhood. There’d been no female touch added to the space, no children requiring swing sets or tire swings. Before, that’d been more than all right with him. But now that Brent and Kayla were together, it would only be a matter of time before they started cranking out kids.

He’d be an uncle. A darn good one, too. He’d spoil the heck out of them, give them all the love and support his uncle had shown him.

Miles’s thoughts drifted back to the moment he’d learned Brent’s parents had died in that plane crash. To the agony that followed as their remaining family tried to cope with such a great loss.

Stephanie had returned to Mount Pleasant for the funeral with Liam at her side. They’d made sure to seek out and offer their condolences to Brent, her with hugs and him with a gentle clap on the back. Rather than offer the same warmth to Miles, Liam had turned for the door. But not Stephanie. She offered the same warm hug to him, even after he’d avoided her for months prior to then.

I’m so sorry for your loss, she’d whispered. I know how much your aunt and uncle meant to you.

He could still remember their last embrace, how he’d closed his eyes and, for just a moment, been able to imagine they were the same innocent kids who were still the best of friends. Then Liam spoke up, and the spell was broken, reality left to settle back in.

Miles’s cell phone buzzed. With a shake of his head he forced the memory aside. His uncle would have wanted him to chase after his dreams, not sit around lamenting a past he couldn’t change.

“Hello?”

Freddie’s voice greeted him, his tone brimming with excitement. “What’s the holdup, man? I sent that application to you hours ago.”

“Yep, just looking it over one last time.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you Masterson?”

Miles’s gaze shifted back to the railing beneath his feet. Freedom, it seemed, was just an interview away. “Nope, not at all.”