She heard her mother's sigh. "All right. But you know I'm always here for you, Greta."
"I know."
She went back to wrapping, trying to keep her head in thinking about tomorrow, about the looks on her kids faces when they opened their gifts. When the mattress bounced hard, her gaze shot up and she looked across the bed at a colorful, thick book her mother had plopped there.
"What's that?"
"A book for Jeff."
Greta laid her palms on the mattress and leaned forward to read the title. Her heart started beating faster, her skin flushing with heat.
Colorful marine life littered the cover. The title of the book was spread out in sea-colored lettering: World Wild Marine Life.
"Mom?"
"Yeah."
Greta swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. "Why that book?"
"Jeff picked it up a few months ago when we were at the bookstore and was paging through it. Isn't it beautiful?"
Oh, God. Oh, God. Her legs wobbled and she sat on the side of the bed. "He did?"
"Yes. This one and several others about oceans and the environment. This one was the most expensive so I thought I'd get him this one to start, and maybe a couple others for his birthday in February."
Oh, shit.
"Greta, what's wrong? You look pale."
"Did you know Zoey wanted to be an Olympic Swimmer?"
Her mother laughed. "She swims like a fish, that one. Have you seen how long she can hold her breath under water, and how fast she swims laps at Don's pool?"
She'd seen Zoey swim before, but as usual her head had been on what needed to be done at the motel.
Where had she been when her children had needed her? When their dreams for the future had sprouted? Hadn't her eyes been open? Hadn't she been listening?
Where had she been when a wonderful man had tried to point these things out to her? Instead of recognizing this amazing gift, she'd thrown it back in his face and accused him of using her children to buy her motel.
She lifted her gaze to her mother. "Oh, Mom, I've made a terrible mistake."
Her mother came over and sat on the bed next to her and took her hand. "Your palms are damp. What's wrong, honey?"
She explained about the beach, what Mitch had told her about the kids, then what she'd accused Mitch of doing.
Her mother frowned. "Greta. How could you think he'd use Jeff and Zoey that way?"
Her eyes stung with tears. She shook her head. "I don't know. Oh, Mom, I said awful things to him. My own inadequacies as a parent and I blamed them on him."
"That's enough. It's not your fault that you try to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If I hadn't been in the bookstore with Jeff and Zoey that day, I wouldn't have known about this, either. You know how kids are. They don't tell everyone everything, and often their friends know more about their dreams than their own parents."
Tears fell down her cheeks, her stomach clenching in pain and emptiness. What must Mitch think of her? "I feel so bad. For my kids, for Mitch. I've had my head so wrapped around that damn motel that I've neglected everything in my life."
"Now stop it. You have not. You're a good mother, Greta, and Jeff and Zoey love you. You give so much of yourself to them. Most kids would kill to have you for a mother."
She managed a smile. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. But I need to stop living for that motel. I need to stop living for Dad." The last was said in a tiny voice, her gaze directed at her mother, hoping she wouldn't break her mother's heart.
But her mother's gaze never wavered. "It's about time you realized that. Greta, I have never interfered in the way you run the motel. Your father gave that to you to run as you please, and the decisions you make about it are yours."
"I know. But you know your input is always welcome."
"Well, I've never wanted to say anything, but I guess it's time I do. Greta, I loved your father with all that I have, all that I am. But he's gone. He will never be forgotten by any of us who loved him, but you don't honor his memory by refusing to live your own life. He wouldn't have wanted you to live in the past and never move forward. That's not why he left you the motel. He wouldn't want you to live frozen in the past. He wanted a future for you, honey."
She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing the mistakes she'd made because she was too afraid to take a step forward. She'd cocooned herself in her own little safe haven, and turned down the opportunity of a lifetime for herself, and more importantly, for her children.
She'd been so blind, in so many ways. "You're right." When she opened her eyes again, she knew exactly what she needed to do, where she needed to start. "I have to find Mitch. I need to apologize."
She went to her mother's computer and looked up the phone number for Mitch's hotel in Daytona Beach. He probably wasn't even there, had no doubt hopped a flight back to Hawaii. After all, why stay here now? But this was a start. She called the hotel, asked if Mitch was still there. They wouldn't give out that information, of course, but she asked the front desk to get him a message.
Now she could only hope his staff was as efficient as ever, and that her message would reach him.
She knew it was too late, that she'd lost the chance to be with the one man who'd given her hope. But she could at least tell him she was sorry.
"Greta, there's something I need to give you."
She looked up from the desk at her mother. "What?"
"Mitch brought this over the other day and asked that I keep it until Christmas morning, but you'd better take a look."
"What's in it?"
Her mother rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. The envelope is sealed."
It was a white envelope with her name on it. She took the envelope and slid her finger under the seal, opening it. Inside was a letter from some New York bank in official sounding language indicating that Mitch had set up a trust for Jeff and Zoey, with annual payouts to Greta for her children to take private swimming lessons. Trips for Jeff for marine research would be arranged at Greta's discretion, and their college education would be fully funded.
Under the letter, Mitch had hand written a note.
For your marine biologist and your Olympic swimmer. Merry
Christmas, Greta. Love, Mitch.
Greta stopped breathing for a minute.
It wasn't an offer to buy the motel, there were no stipulations included. And when she'd sent him away, no second letter had arrived rescinding the trust.
Oh, Mitch.
Her heart ached so much she thought she'd die.
She handed the letter up to her mother, who read it, fell into the chair next to her and burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Greta did her best to hold it together Christmas Day, to be cheerful and fun for the kids, who loved all their gifts. They were always so appreciative of every gift they received, no matter how small.
Jeff loved his book on marine life, had found a quiet corner after all the chaos of present opening had died down to sift through every page. He sipped hot chocolate and read, seemingly content to be off by himself, not with his new MP3 player downloading tunes, but absorbing every page of the book.
Zoey was playing a new video game one of her cousins had received. Greta was inhaling her fourth cup of coffee since she hadn't managed to sleep last night. Neither her morning shower nor the caffeine seemed to be jolting her out of her zombie-like state.
Her brother wrapped his arm around her. "Stay up all night wrapping gifts?" he asked.
She managed a smile. "Something like that."
"You want to tell me what went down with you and Mitch? I warned him not to hurt you. If he did..."
She tilted her head back. "He didn't hurt me at all, Don. I hurt him."
Don frowned. "You know, I might be a big, dumb fisherman, but I'm your brother and I'm here for you if you need to talk."
Her heart filled with warmth and love. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Thanks. I don't think you can help me, though. I really messed up."
He squeezed her harder. "There's nothing that can't be fixed, Greta."
If only. "This can't."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I'll bet it can."
She was about to argue, but Don half turned her, and she caught sight of the best Christmas present ever--her mother strolling down the hallway with Mitch at her side.
Her hand trembled, and Don took the cup away from her.
"Let me take that before you drop it and Mom yells at you," he whispered in her ear. "Merry Christmas, Mitch."
Mitch nodded at Don and smiled, but his gaze returned immediately to Greta.