Willa looked at her. “So much for telling the truth.”
“Willa.” She shot her daughter a look. “I’m doing fine.”
Harper stabbed a cherry tomato. “We are all doing fine, but Frankie has a lot of debt from her divorce and Willa has debt from school. Both circumstances beyond their control. But they’re also stubborn and proud.”
Willa sat up straighter. “I’m not.”
Frankie sighed. “I can’t take money from you, Buck.”
“Why not? I’m your biological father. If I can’t help you, then what good am I?”
“It feels wrong,” Frankie argued.
“Not to me it doesn’t,” he said. “It feels very right. It feels like I’m getting a chance to make up for not being there.”
She took a breath and looked at him. She did not want to take money from him. But what if letting him help her meant she got to stay in Hideaway Bay? If she could concentrate on her business for a few good months, she could probably get it going enough to replace her salary. “What if it was just a loan?”
“Frankie, what’s the difference if I give you the money now or you get it after I pass away? Because I’m leaving it to you in my will anyway. I’d much rather give it to you now when I can enjoy helping you.”
She thought about that. How much could he really have saved up? This probably wasn’t a lot of money they were talking about. A few hundred dollars? A thousand? “All right. When you put it that way, makes it seem silly to say no.”
Buck smiled. “I’m glad I brought my checkbook.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joyce and Beryl sat in the shade of the big square umbrella, the two of them on lounge chairs by the pool, both of them in shorts. Shorts! Joyce almost never wore them out of the house, unless she was going to be working outside. Now, here she was, laying about in them.
She’d only put them on because Beryl had put hers on, having specifically purchased a pair for this trip.
Ruthie was parked between them in her new stroller. She was sleeping, having just had a bottle. Nearby, one of the large outdoor fans sent a lovely breeze their way as it rotated past in a short arc.
“This is the life,” Beryl said. “If you’d have told me a week ago I’d be sitting by a pool, with the ocean to one side of me and a river to the other, I’d have told you you’d gone daft. Now look at me.”
Joyce smiled. She could count on one hand the times she’d sat by this pool, but she wasn’t going to tell Beryl that. “It’s like a dream, innit?”
“It is. All this blue sky and green grass. It’s a postcard come to life.” Beryl glanced at Ruthie. “And then there’s that sweet thing. Look at that little lamb. Probably dreaming of how grand her lifeis going to be now. Makes me wish my Neville would have a few little ones, but that wife of his is focused on her career.”
“That’s how the women are these days.”
Beryl smiled at Ruthie, her gaze hazing with memories. “Babies are marvelous things, aren’t they? Especially when they aren’t yours.” She laughed. “I miss having little ones. You’d think I’d be past that at my age, but there you have it.”
Joyce adjusted her sunglasses. “You were always a fantastic mother. I used to think if you hadn’t gone into baking, you could have been a child minder. You were so good with your own.”
“Thanks. I loved baking. Still do. But it’s not the same kind of rewarding as looking after a little one. Speaking of baking, I’d like to do a little while I’m here. To say thank you to your boss for the ticket. Not that a Bakewell tart is worth what he paid, mind you, but it would be a nice gesture.”
Joyce smiled. “I was hoping you’d feel that way. I’ve already sung the praises of your Bakewell and your Victoria sponge.”
Beryl chuckled. “Maybe I should really give them a treat and do my sticky toffee pudding with butterscotch sauce.”
“Oh,” Joyce said. “I could do a proper Sunday roast if you’re going to make that. We could serve a taste of England for them. Invite the neighbor girls I’ve been telling you about. What do you say?”
“I love it. Can we go to the market tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. We’ll work on our list tonight.”
They fell silent for a while, soaking in the warmth of the day. It had a somewhat intoxicating effect, bringing on a sense of pleasant drowsiness that almost felt like floating. Why hadn’t she done this more?
Mitch had always been plain that she could use the pool whenever she wanted. And yet, she never did. The last time she’d sat out here had been with Jeanie, during her final days. She’dbeen cold so often that sitting in the hot sun was one of the few things that really warmed her up.
