Their Festive Island Escape

“How should I know? You’re the smarty pants in the family.”

And her mother would never forgive her for being smart. Or driven. Or successful. She would never understand her older child’s fierce desire to escape the cloud of destitution their family had been born under. Celeste sighed. Her mother usually took longer to get to this point in the conversation. Next would come the tirade; the outlining of all the things that were wrong with Wendy’s life and how impossible it was to better any of it.

“I’m a little too old to be watching that baby, you know,” her mother began, describing Tara’s nine-month-old daughter. Her only grandchild. “Since you’re not around, I’ve had to do it more times than I’d like to think.”

Celeste didn’t bother to remind her mother that she’d only been gone for about three days. Wendy couldn’t have babysat more than once or twice since then.

But logic wasn’t the point of these conversations. “Sorry, Mother. How is little Nat?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Loud. Cries a lot. Must be teething or somethin’. I tell ya, I couldn’t wait to get outta there.”

Celeste bit back the surge of anger that suddenly rose to the surface. Tara’s daughter was the sweetest, most loving baby, despite the lineage of women she came from. Celeste uttered a prayer to heaven at least once a day that the pleasant nature the child had been born with somehow carried through as she grew up. She’d do everything she could to ensure that happened.

One thing was for certain, Celeste would have to arrange for a professional babysitter for the child the next time she traveled. She might even have to look into hiring one now long-distance. She didn’t want Wendy around the child if she was growing resentful of the responsibility. Celeste was completely confident that Wendy wouldn’t drink around the baby. She preferred to drink alone in the privacy of her own apartment, without judging eyes advising her to slow down or stop.

But it simply wasn’t worth the risk.

Celeste made a mental note to look into a sitter first thing tomorrow morning and tell Tara.

But Wendy’s next words made the issue a moot one. “Thank goodness I won’t have to watch her anymore. Not anytime soon. Looks like your sister was let go again.”

Celeste didn’t even know why she was surprised. It was a wonder her sister ever got hired at all. She tended to arrive late to work and then slacked off once she got there. No doubt Tara’s latest setback had something of a hand in her mother’s afternoon of binge drinking.

“That was her third job this year, wasn’t it?”

Her mother pounced. “Well, I guess we can’t all be as perfect as you.” Bingo. Her mother had now hit all the usual notes. Celeste hoped she felt some semblance of relief now that it was out of her system. For the moment and until next time.

Celeste resisted the urge to ask her outright. Feel better now, Mom?

Sadly enough, the answer was still no. And Wendy would feel awful once she woke up and remembered how she’d spoken to her eldest daughter. Then the barrage of apologies would start.

Until it all happened again.

* * *

By the time he’d walked the entirety of the resort for the third time, Reid had to admit that he was trying to seek Celeste out. It galled him that she hadn’t responded yet to his proposal.

He also had to admit that he’d be profoundly disappointed if she ultimately turned him down. Which was sort of funny if one thought about it. Before he’d laid eyes on her, he had a determined set plan in place to attend the excursions by himself and then meet with a marketing team to see how best to advertise them. Now, the thought of going by himself held absolutely zero appeal.

He was doing this for the sake of expanding resort bookings. He wanted this place to be the first resort people thought of when they decided to vacation in Jamaica. Celeste could really help him toward that goal. That was the only purpose behind him asking her to accompany him.

So why did a surge of pleasure shoot through his chest when he finally did spot her? Until he approached, that is. The closer he got to where she sat, the more he could see something was wrong.