The next morning, I hugged Taylor good-bye in the driveway. Mason was sitting in his convertible, the engine running. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t the one taking her to the airport, but I also never imagined she would have hooked up with Grey’s nemesis. Padre was full of funny surprises.
“Thanks for letting me stay at the Palm for fall break.” She pulled away from the hug.
“Of course.” I wish it hadn’t been such a quick trip. “You can come visit anytime.”
“Do you think you’ll be back home for Christmas?”
My parents and I hadn’t broached the holiday topic yet. Neither had Grey and I. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as we figure it out.” I couldn’t bear to spend the holidays without my family, but I didn’t know what Grey thought about heading to North Carolina for Christmas.
“Maybe I’ll be back sooner than you think.” She turned to smile at Mason. He was fiddling with the radio.
“Maybe.” I hoped she didn’t get hurt. Mason had heartbreaker written all over him.
“Next time maybe only half a pitcher of margaritas at Pete’s.” She laughed.
I groaned. “I’m not ready to face tequila for a while.”
“You’ll have to send me pictures from the wedding. You are going to rock that dress, and Marin will be a beautiful bride.”
I agreed. The wedding was going to be fun—the island event of the year, maybe the decade.
“Ok, I’ll call you when I land in Raleigh.”
“You better.” I smiled. “Fly safely.”
I watched as Mason backed out of the driveway and onto the road. In a few seconds, the car carrying my best friend was a speck in the distance.
Grey balanced himself on the upper deck. “You ok?”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. All the homesick feelings I had been keeping at arm’s distance hit me the minute Taylor was gone. Suddenly, I missed crisp fall nights on Franklin Street, trying to finish the crossword in the Daily Tar Heel, and the grilled cheese sandwiches and orangeades from Sutton’s Drug Store we used to get every week. I missed my mom and dad. I missed all of it.
There was no way I could explain it to Grey without hurting his feelings.
“I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes.” I climbed the stairs to the house and walked to our seaside bedroom.
It was hard to shake the feeling I had just cut the last connection to home.
A week later, I had five reservations on the books. I looked at the spreadsheet I had made. I was determined to get the reservations in the computer and backed up on a server so we weren’t dependent on a spiral notebook.
The snowbird ad was starting to pay off. I was worried at first when I didn’t have a single reservation after the first week that I had wasted my savings, but a few email inquiries rolled in along with phone calls. Five reservations were a start.
I sighed as I saw Mason pull on the door handle and walk into the office. I wasn’t really in the mood for his list of complaints today. Would it be the parking lot striping or the exterior lightbulbs? It looked like he was holding the palm tree key chain.
“Are you checking out?” We didn’t have a set date on our arrangement, but I was still surprised.
“Headed to North Carolina for that boat building meeting. No sense in me taking up your best room.” He placed the palm tree on the desk.
“Oh. Are you still planning on seeing Taylor?”
He smiled. “And what if I said yes?”
Mason was a tricky guy. Reading him was difficult. “I’d say give her a hug for me and have a good time in Chapel Hill.”
“Hmm…all right, I’ll do that.”
“So, you really like her?” I didn’t know if she would appreciate me butting in like this, but curiosity had taken hold.
“What’s not to like? She’s cute, fun, and doesn’t get wrapped up in drama. I don’t see why we can’t keep things going like they are.”
I expected him to walk out, but he sat in his usual spot. I could only guess so he could torture me.
“Did you need something else?” I raised my eyebrows.
He scratched his head. “Yeah, see I can’t figure all this out.”
“What do you mean?”
He paused. “I don’t get it. You. Grey. This decrepit motel. The way everyone on the island loves it. What am I missing, Eden?”
I cut the bullshit and the banter we usually carried out, and stripped it down to the truth. “It’s home, Mason.”
“This isn’t your home, and Grey is holding on to a place owned and run by a man who was dishonest with him his entire life. You’d think he’d want to burn it to the ground.”
“Is this about Pops?” I asked carefully.
“Depends on what you mean.”