Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

“Hope can’t wait to see the crew.”


Hope, Mel’s nine-year-old daughter, was blossoming into quite the prima donna of Miss Gina’s Bed-and-Breakfast. With her innocent smiles and fluttering of her eyelashes, the crew handed her the keys to their hearts the minute they arrived.

“She wants to make some money off that swear jar you have in the kitchen.” Miss Gina groaned. Her pocket had grown empty in the two years Hope had lived in River Bend, and her language had cleaned up considerably.

“Smart girl,” Jo said.

Mel took another swig of her drink. “The high school has managed to lure me into the alumni committee,” she told them.

“For the reunions?” Zoe asked.

“Yep.”

“How hard can that be? How many kids were in our graduating class, fifty?”

“Ish,” Jo said.

“Yeah, but this year’s ten-year reunion is going to be triple the size.”

Zoe found another chocolate, kept nibbling. “Baby boomers of River Bend?”

They laughed.

“No, Waterville High had a fire during the holidays that year,” Mel told them.

Jo narrowed her eyes.

“I forgot about that,” Miss Gina said.

“I don’t remember anything about it,” Jo mumbled.

Miss Gina patted Jo’s knee. “You had a hard year.”

She sure had. Before her father’s death, she was working odd jobs in Waterville and renting out a bedroom from a divorcée who needed the extra money. When Jo would come home, she’d often stay with Miss Gina. She and her father had just started talking without massive fights right before his death. Jo attributed the peace to the distance.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years.” Mel’s voice softened.

“Feels like forever.”

Miss Gina made a humming noise as a slow smile inched across her lips. “Your dad liked his beer, but he had a soft spot in his heart for my lemonade.”

“My dad never kept beer in the house.”

“That’s because you’d drink it!” Miss Gina never minced her words.

“And when did he have a chance to drink your lemonade?” Jo asked.

“Joseph made the trip out here a few times that last year you girls were in high school.”

“He did?” Jo didn’t remember hearing about him going to Miss Gina’s except for the occasional drive through and checking on people when the weather was bad and the power was out. Which, where they lived, happened quite a bit.

“To check on you, mostly.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

Miss Gina tipped her glass back. “I told him I wouldn’t. Besides, if I told you back then that your dad and I talked, you wouldn’t have come to me when things were hard for you.”

“I came to you for just about everything.”

“We all did,” Zoe added.

Mel removed her honey blonde hair from her ponytail and ran her fingers through the ends. “I remember the day we had that counselor come to the school to talk about teenage pregnancy. We all came here to get the facts from you.”

Miss Gina nodded with a grin.

“You told us abstinence was what the preachers tell their daughters to practice about six months before their illegitimate babies were born.” Zoe’s words brought back the memory.

“Then we had a road trip into Waterville and came home with condoms and the number to the family planning clinic for pills when we needed them.”

“I used that number,” Jo told them.

“I didn’t have to. Miss Gina handed me three months’ supply when she heard that Luke had asked me out.”

“You didn’t have sex with Luke for, like, six months,” Mel protested.

“Seven, but I started the pills sooner.”

Jo laughed. “That’s because you thought you’d get pregnant by just thinking about sex.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “I did not.”

“Did, too,” Mel said.

“You were paranoid, Zoe.” Miss Gina waved her glass in the air.

For a minute it looked like Zoe was going to protest; instead she nodded.

“So what did my dad and you talk about? Not birth control pills, I hope.”

Miss Gina shook her head. “He never flat-out asked about that part of your life, but I did remind him that you were smart and didn’t want to be a teenage mother.”

“He probably knew I was having sex.”

“Oh, he knew . . . he just couldn’t figure out with who. Bugged the crap out of him that you didn’t date any local boys.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t date anyone in town.”

“You didn’t date anyone here because they all knew your dad,” Mel corrected her.

“It’s a good thing as it stands. It’s hard enough policing River Bend, imagine if it were filled with exes.”

“I would laugh my ass off all the time.” Zoe chuckled.

Miss Gina tucked a long strand of silver-speckled hair behind her ear. “Your dad wanted to know you were safe and getting by. He offered to give me money once in a while to help you out so long as I didn’t tell you about it.”

This was news to Jo. “And did he . . . give you money?”

“Yep, and I took it, too. You kids emptied my pantry every time you showed up.”

Jo had no idea. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”

“You weren’t ready to hear this right after your dad died. Would have made you fall even deeper in your grief. But your dad loved you. He didn’t always know how to handle you, and that summer after high school he had to put his boot down or risk losing you to the wrong crowd. Especially after Zoe left and Mel was in California.”

“I was with the wrong crowd,” Jo said, remembering the party lasting for months.

“Yes, but you called me to pick you up when things were a little hairy, and you never ended up in jail.”

“Dad locked me in his more than once.”

“Not the same.” Miss Gina looked beyond them in her memories as she spoke. “He did that to scare you.”

“All it did was piss me off.”

“It scared you or you would have ended up in someone else’s holding cell.”

Neither of her BFFs offered a protest.

Mel refilled her glass and topped off Zoe’s. “So Jo’s dad came here often?”

“The year Jo was living in Waterville. He’d come by after you’d visit.” Miss Gina nodded toward Jo. “He wanted the real story . . . did I approve of your friends? Had I met them? Were you getting enough to eat? He was a worrywart, your dad.”

“He never showed that to me.” Jo wasn’t sure if she should be relieved to know how much her father thought of her back then or distressed to know he didn’t tell her directly.

“He had to keep it from you, JoAnne. You needed to be on your own two feet in order to realize how much you had with him. The harder you had to work, the less time you had to party.”

“It’s no different than you telling Billy Ray to run with you at the school,” Zoe said. “That’s hard to do sober, forget about it if you’re hungover or drunk.”