“Progress is a blessing, whatever the pace.” He diced a red onion and tossed it on the griddle. “It’s fortunate you have Devyn to give you a hand at home. The timing of the accident was providential in terms of her availability.”
“I guess.”
At her less-than-enthusiastic response, Charley shot her a sympathetic glance and selected an avocado from a basket. “I suppose it must be hard for someone with Devyn’s background to adjust to playing nurse.”
“No, it’s not that. She’s done everything that has to be done.” More, in fact. “I just don’t like having to rely on other people.”
“Ah.” Charley gave an empathetic nod. “Compromised independence can be difficult to accept. People like to be in control—or at least think they are.”
“I suppose that’s true. But accepting help from Devyn is especially hard.”
As the admission tripped off her tongue, she frowned.
Why on earth had she let such a revealing comment slip? She never talked about Devyn with anyone in Hope Harbor.
“That’s understandable. No one likes to impose on family members.” Charley flipped the fish and began to chop the avocado, his tone conversational. “But maybe Devyn doesn’t view this as an imposition. It’s possible she’s grateful for this chance to spend a few weeks with you. I expect living on opposite coasts can make it difficult to be part of each other’s lives.”
Lauren glanced at two young women as they laughed and chatted while they walked down the street together. Like sisters would do, if they were close.
Not that she knew anything about such a relationship from personal experience.
Nevertheless, it was hard to fault Charley’s reasoning, especially since Devyn had tried on a couple of occasions since she’d been here to start a conversation about their strained relationship.
But long-standing and deep-seated resentment was difficult to erase.
And no matter what Devyn might say, nothing could change the fact that during their growing-up years, the family focus and finances had been centered on her. Or that her dancing ambitions had disrupted their family and sent Dad to an early grave.
“How old was Devyn when she went to San Francisco?”
At Charley’s follow-up question, she dialed back her silent rant. “Twelve.”
He shook his head. “I knew she was young, but I’d forgottenhowyoung. Still a child, really.” He set three corn tortillas on the grill. “Do you think she was apprehensive about leaving home at that age?”
Lauren shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
That wasn’t a question she’d ever pondered—or asked.
“I don’t know. I always assumed she was all for it. Mom sure was. It was obvious Devyn had talent, and Mom said it would be a crime not to give her the opportunity to reach her potential.”
“A noble thought—but I wonder if Devyn agreed?”
Noble? Hah. Devyn’s talent had simply been Mom’s ticket out of Hope Harbor.
As for Devyn...
“I have no idea, but Mom’s take on her talent was obviously sound. I mean, Devyn’s a principal dancer with one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world. Whatever her feelings at the time, that decision led her to the success she’s enjoyed. How could she not be happy with her fairy-tale life?”
Charley gave the fish on the grill a liberal sprinkling of his special seasoning, expression pensive. “Funny thing about fairy tales. Most of the characters have to deal with a fair amount of bad stuff before they find their happy ending.”
“I don’t think Devyn has.”
“You might be surprised. I imagine she has a few less-than-rosy stories to share about her journey to success.”
Lauren squinted at him.
Did she? And howhadshe felt about leaving home at age twelve?
“Are you eating on the wharf or taking these home?” Charley began assembling the tacos.
