TWENTY-SIX
Carly stood in the doorway of Brystol’s bedroom, watching the toddler sleep. On her bedside table, a framed picture of her parents sat, watching over their daughter while she slept, played, and sat in the rocker while her grandmother read to her. As far as Carly knew, it was the last photo of Austin and Brooklyn.
Every summer, the tot returned to Washington, but this was the first year she had come to Cape Harbor for an extended visit. For the first couple of years, Carly would travel to Seattle and stay in a hotel while Brystol visited. It wasn’t ideal but the only way to get to know her granddaughter. Each time she saw her, she looked for any sign her son was living in the little girl’s eyes. She had yet to see anything, and still she hoped. Maybe it would take time for Austin’s attributes to make their presence known, or maybe . . .
She sighed, made sure the night-light was flicked on, and checked that the baby gate was latched before she went downstairs. The last thing she wanted was for the toddler to take a tumble down the stairs if she got up in the middle of the night. So far, though, Brystol had been very good about yelling for her nonnie when she needed her. And each time Carly heard her sweet voice call for her, her heart broke.
Downstairs, Simone sat in one of the rocking chairs that faced the ocean. Carly joined her without saying a word. There were very few sailboats out on the water, and all the fishing boats had long come in. The ocean was calm, and any families that had been out had long gone back to their homes or hotels for the night.
“Took some calls today,” Simone said.
“We should disconnect the phone.”
“Or we should reopen the inn.”
“We don’t have a kitchen.”
The Driftwood Inn didn’t necessarily need a kitchen, but it was part of the hospitality they offered. Unfortunately, Carly was right. After Austin’s passing, she had taken a sledgehammer to the appliances and cabinets, destroying the interior.
“We could call Seacoast Construction, hire them to rebuild.”
“No,” Carly stated. “I don’t want people here anymore.”
“I think that’s why the kids don’t come around anymore—they must feel like you don’t want them.”
“I don’t.”
“Carly—”
She held her hand up to stop Simone from speaking. She didn’t want to hear what she had to say, especially about Austin’s friends. She was not ready to see them and didn’t know if she ever would be. They held far too many memories. Memories that hurt each time she thought of them. Her heart was better off locked away in her house than exposed to others. The only person she wanted to see was Brooklyn. At first, she had gone to her, looking for answers as to why her son would take his boat out in the middle of a storm. Deep down, Carly knew Brooklyn knew why. What had happened that night? What would possess her son to go out? It was so unlike him. He was always so cautious and aware of the weather.
Yet, when she found Brooklyn at her parents’, and she told Carly she was pregnant, Carly’s priorities changed. Her mission was to make sure her son’s only child made it safely into the world. She had to focus on Brooklyn, which left her no choice but to close the inn. She hadn’t cared, because she was in mourning; the people would understand and come back next year or the year after or whenever she decided to finally reopen. There were more important matters to take care of.
She had been duped, though, into thinking life was somewhat perfect and back to normal, but she knew better. She’d had suspicions since her granddaughter had arrived and was going to do the unthinkable. Even if she was wrong, it would be peace of mind.
“Brystol doesn’t belong to Austin,” Carly blurted out.
Simone spit her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not my granddaughter.”
“She most certainly is.”
“She looks nothing like Austin, me, or Skip. Brooklyn, yes, but not my son.”
“Carly, I think you’re looking for another reason to shut people out. Brystol’s yours, and she loves you.”
Carly stood and placed her hand on the window. “I don’t doubt her love for me or the love I feel for her, but when I look into her eyes, Austin isn’t there.”
“I think you’re speaking nonsense.”
“That night, something happened between Brooklyn and Austin, and only Brooklyn knows what. Maybe she told him she was in love with someone else or that she was pregnant, and the child wasn’t his. Whatever happened, it led to his death. Austin knew better than to take his boat out in the storm.”
Simone sighed heavily. “If that sweet, beautiful little girl upstairs isn’t Austin’s, then who does she belong to?”