one, given the dent one year of not working had made in her bridal business. Just when Happily Ever After Weddings was getting off the ground, Rachel had to put it all to the side. She’d lost several bookings, and had probably given up all the ground she had worked so hard to gain the year before. But her father had needed her, and that was all that mattered.
Someday he’d be back in charge, and she’d go back to her life. Someday.
She found her father sitting at the kitchen table, a crossword puzzle in front of him. He had filled in only a handful of clues since she’d left him this morning in the same place, with the same folded section of newspaper in his hands. The breakfast dishes still sat in the sink, and there was nothing in the stove for dinner. Rachel worried that if she ever stopped coming by, her father would stop eating altogether. It was as if losing his wife had made him lose his motivation to move forward. Move anywhere, period.
“Good evening, Dad.” She pressed a kiss to his unshaven cheek. She missed the scent of his cologne, the smoothness of his skin after he shaved. “What’s for dinner?”
“I...uh...haven’t thought about it.” He blinked, his eyes bleary and red, probably from getting a few fitful hours of sleep in the recliner in front of the TV. His white hair stuck up on his head, and his T-shirt looked as though it hadn’t been washed in a month. “The day goes by so fast sometimes. I didn’t even realize it was that time already.”
“Why don’t I just throw some chicken on the grill?” Rachel pulled open the fridge and pulled out a package of meat, acting like everything was okay. That it didn’t make her heart hurt to see her once robust and busy father sitting here like a lump of clay. “You still have those potatoes?”
“Potatoes?”
“I bought them at the store yesterday. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about them. Well, I haven’t eaten any potatoes, so they’re probably in the bin in the pantry. You know, where Mom always kept them? Never store them with the onions, she’d said, but I can’t remember why.” He shook his head then turned back to the crossword. “What’s a five-letter word for in fashion?”
“Umm...” She thought about it while she sprinkled some seasoning on the chicken, then dug in the bin in the pantry, unearthed a few potatoes, washed them and pricked their skins. “Try vogue.”
“Works for me.” He penciled it in. “Been working on this crossword all day. It’s a tough one.”
It was what he said every day. She wasn’t quite sure how her father spent the hours between breakfast—when she got here at eight and put his coffee on and fixed him some eggs—and six fifteen, when she got back from the store. She didn’t want to think of him sitting at this kitchen table, staring out the window, mourning. But truth be told, that was what she knew her father probably did every day.
“Have you called Daryl? He was in the other day. Said he wanted to get you up to the lake, see what’s biting.” Her father’s best friend had been in almost every day over the last month, checking to see if Ernie might have come in for the day. Daryl had tried calling and coming by the house, but if Ernie didn’t want to deal with someone, he just ignored them. Rachel hoped that if she kept on mentioning Daryl and her father’s favorite pastime, it might get him out the door.
Her father waved that off. Again. “Maybe when the weather is better.”
Rachel glanced out the window at clear skies, a sunlit day. “Today was a great day for fishing, Dad.”
That made her think of the firefighter again. Colton Barlow. Novice fisherman. Decent first baseman. And very hot guy in general. She wondered how his fishing trip had gone, and whether he’d be back to the store. Whether he’d ask her for coffee—
Then she glanced at her father and realized she probably didn’t have time to date. Heck, she barely had time to take care of herself. There were dishes to do, laundry to process, some weeding to tackle, then she had to go home and take care of her own chores, sleep, get up, work the store and come back to her father’s house again. Rinse and repeat, day after day, until her father got back into his life. “Dad, I’m going to get this on the grill, then I’ll come back in and do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to. They can keep.” He never even looked up from the crossword. “I’ll do them later.”
She sighed. It was what he always said, whenever she offered to clean for him, but he never swept or washed or did anything about the mess inside the house or the weeds out front. And all the other thousand little things that had gone undone for months.
She put the chicken on the grill then came back inside. She fished out the register report from her pocket and smoothed the paper on the table in front of her father. “Here’s today’s tally. Things were a little slow.” She didn’t mention that her only customer had been the firefighter.
The store had barely been surviving in the last few months, but she never told her father that. If she did, his disappointment—in the store, in her—would likely make him retreat even further. So she tried to keep things upbeat, positive. There were days when even that was a challenge.
Her father gave the paper a glance. “Business will pick up.”
He’d been saying that for months. But business had dropped to a dangerous low, and right now it was costing more to keep the lights on than she was taking in during the day. She was doing her best, but the people of Stone Gap loved her dad, came to him for his expertise, the way he made everyone feel welcome. She was trying, but she wasn’t Ernie. “I think everyone misses you down at the shop.”
“I’ll be by.” His focus was back on the crossword. “Someday.”
Rachel slipped into the seat opposite her father and put a hand over her dad’s. “Someday...like tomorrow? Come on, Dad. It’ll be good for you to—”
He shoved the chair back so fast, it squealed against the tile floor. “I’m fine right here. So let it go.”
Then he stomped out of the room, down the hall and into his bedroom. The door shut with a slam, and Rachel was left alone, with the same mess she’d been trying to clean up for the past year.
She fixed the chicken, did the dishes and processed a load of laundry. Then she left her dad a covered plate and a note that said she loved him before she headed out the door. Rachel sat in her car for a long time, debating whether to go home and do the same at her house, then work on the books and orders for the store.
Or maybe, for once, do something for herself.
That made her think of Colton again. He was here on vacation, she presumed. Did that mean he was out tonight? Sitting on a bar stool somewhere, or still fishing? Or was he the type to fill his evenings with a long run or a good novel?
When was the last time she had done any of the above? Had enough time to buy a book, never mind read one? Take a long, lazy walk on a warm summer evening? Sleep in on a Sunday and dawdle over the paper with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll?
As she neared the street toward the cozy apartment she lived in, she saw the sign for the Sea Shanty. She debated at the stop sign then finally turned left, away from home and toward the restaurant. She rolled down the windows, let in the ocean breeze and tasted the short burst of freedom in the air.
The Sea Shanty wasn’t much, as restaurants went, but the food
