“The crew’s on the way. They were just behind me, so we’ll be able to get going soon. We’ll have to cut the power again.”
“That’s okay,” Olivia said. “Let me get you a drink to cool you off. It’s going to get pretty hot in here once you get working. What would you like?” She started toward the kitchen and turned around. “I have iced tea, soda, milk, water…”
“Iced tea would be great.”
Callie pulled up one of the beach chairs for him and followed Olivia into the kitchen. “I’ll help you, Olivia. Have a seat, Aiden, and we’ll bring it out.” Then she hurried behind her friend.
“Olivia,” she whispered with urgency. “Did you notice what I noticed?”
“What’s that?” Olivia set the orchid on the counter and pulled a glass from the cabinet, filling it with ice.
Callie leaned into her space to pull her attention toward her. “I think Aiden might have a crush on you,” she whispered.
Olivia tipped her head back and laughed as she retrieved the pitcher of iced tea from the newly delivered fridge. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her words coming out a little less assured than she’d planned, clearly. There was a sparkle of excitement in her eyes before she turned away from Callie.
“He brought you an orchid.”
“He was just being nice,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve known him a long time.”
“Let’s just say that I don’t have guy friends bring me orchids.”
“He’s been thoughtful ever since I’ve known him. He always does nice things for me like that.” She returned the pitcher to the fridge.
“Oh really,” Callie said suggestively.
Olivia took the glass off the counter. “Please.” She pursed her lips, took the glass with her, and left the room, but there was a little spring to her step.
The chair in the family room was empty, Aiden’s hard hat and bag leaning against the wall. “Where did he go?” Callie asked. They checked the hallway but it was empty and the bathroom door was open.
Callie heard laughter and went to the front window. Aiden was playing catch with Wyatt. Between catches, he was throwing the ball up and catching it behind his back, making Wyatt laugh. Callie didn’t have to say anything for Olivia to understand what she was thinking.
Olivia looked back out the window, pensively. Callie knew how afraid she was of relationships—they weren’t easy when a child was involved—but, by the look on her face, Olivia might feel a little something for Aiden as well.
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Olivia said as Callie added the last pillow to the bed upstairs. The furniture had come around ten o’clock and Callie had been working frantically to get the room done, just itching to tick one item off their “to do” list. She felt as though things were coming together as she finished it.
This room was called The Windy Sails Suite, as it had its own bathroom and small sitting area attached. A few days ago, Olivia had painted the walls a light sea-foam green, and they had picked out a whitewashed bedroom set with a matching sunburst mirror that had the same finish for above the bed. The linens were a crisp white and they were complemented by tan and pink throw pillows. Callie arranged three white beach-themed sculptures on the dresser.
She stepped back with pride to view her hard work, thinking of all the people who would enjoy this room, and tugged on her shirt to cool off a little—the air was humid and stuffy. “How’s Aiden coming along downstairs?”
“The crew’s removed all the windows in the family room so our wonderful air conditioning is off for the moment. They’re about to begin demo on the back wall.” Aiden had insisted that keeping the same architectural style as the rest of the house with the large windows at the back was the way to go, but to get the greatest view, it would be best to move them a little more than he’d originally thought before adding the French doors. “You know,” she said, looking a little too casual, like she had to work at it. “Maybe we could all go out one night or something—you, Luke, Aiden, and me. That might be fun.”
“Oh really?” Callie teased.
“As friends!”
With a grin, she let it go. “Maybe.” She’d just let whatever was happening happen.
Callie decided to sit out on the beach to relax after the long day. Before she left the cottage, she grabbed the journal—she still didn’t have any quality reading material and her curiosity was winning out. What was the harm in reading it, really? She’d probably never find Frederick anyway. With a glass of wine in one hand, the journal in another, and that now familiar salty breeze coming off the ocean, she dropped her bag into the sand and sat down in her beach chair.
Callie opened the journal to where she’d left off, letting the late sun warm her face.
I saw him today! He’s eight...
That was Wyatt’s age.
His birthday was two weeks ago. I know the date by heart: October 20th. His front teeth have grown in—they’re too big for him, but they make his face look so much older. His blond hair is lighter than I would’ve thought, given his daddy’s complexion, but there’s no denying him. He looks just like Frederick. I walked slowly past him and he dropped his baseball. I picked it up for him before it rolled away. When I handed it back, he said, “Thank you,” and my heart almost melted. His mother hurried him along the sidewalk but I stood there and watched him go until he was out of sight. I had a scarf on my head to protect it from the wind today, and my sunglasses on. I wondered if his mother would recognize me, but she was in such a hurry, I don’t think she paid me any notice. I was glad for the scarf though. But honestly, I don’t know if she’d know me anyway.
Callie felt a connection to this little boy. She wondered what had become of him. Unable to cease her curiosity, she read the next entry.
I keep thinking of all the time I’ve missed with my nephew. Frederick may have decided against telling him who he was, but I didn’t get a choice in the matter, and he’s my family too. I would’ve liked to bake cookies with him or see him unwrap his birthday presents. I could take him on trips to the aquarium; we could build sandcastles together. Seeing him the other day was bittersweet: It was like taking a breath after being held underwater, but now, I just feel emptier. He looks like such a sweet boy. I wish I could know him.
She sat for the longest time, her finger in the journal, marking its place, thinking as the water sparkled on the horizon. Her dad had missed out on all those things too—had he had thoughts like Alice’s? What about Frederick? Why would he just leave his child? How could people do that?
As lovely as it was out there, she needed to get up and make dinner—it was her night. The builders were finishing up for the day but coming again tomorrow to complete the walkway that would run from the yard to the ocean, and she still had to put in the order for landscaping with the local garden shop. She stood up, closed the journal, and folded up her chair, then headed toward the house.