see that as a sign that she was to do nothing.
Likewise, if she got on the show, that was momentous enough to be considered a sign in the other way—it would be sure direction to act.
The fact that winning Family Secrets could allow her and Pierce the finances to get him off the streets was added impetus.
She’d been motivated by need and had been given opportunity, and now it was up to her to do all she could to make their future come to fruition.
And added to all of that, the unforeseen aspect... She really needed to win the competition for herself. Needed it badly. These past weeks of living in her future while knowing she was going back into her past had shown her something very clearly. Her whole life she’d defined herself by those in her life—her parents, Pierce, her grandmother and then Pierce again. And she was...weary. It was like she was constantly running to keep up, but never quite catching up because someone always needed something more.
But winning the competition...that was for her. To show herself that separate and apart from everyone else, she was just plain good at something. She was an individual with a talent that had nothing to do with anyone else in her life.
Maybe if she could believe that, if she could show herself that much, she wouldn’t constantly feel as though she had to earn the love of those around her. She could just love them. Serve them. And feel...like she was enough.
But first, she had to take care of her past.
WHILE THERE WASN’T a lot of crime on Shelby Island, there was plenty of it in Charleston, which was where Pierce worked. With the harbor and the beaches, the moderate temperatures and South Carolina charm, the city attracted all kinds. From drug users to homeless, vacationers to the rich and famous, illegal immigrants to some of the nation’s most respected leaders, Pierce, with his fellow officers, walked among them. Determined to keep the peace.
When a call came in, he put himself on the front line as often as he could. He was trained for all kinds of warfare. Had reflexes that outranked those of most officers.
And no fear of dying.
Some thought he was a bit too into danger and shied away from partnering with him. Others put in requests to ride with him.
He preferred going it alone.
And would have liked to stay on for a second shift when his was up Friday afternoon. But instead he parked his vehicle and headed out right on time. With Eliza gone, he had evening social hour welcoming duties at the bed-and-breakfast. He wasn’t good at it. Figured he probably put as many people off as he made feel welcome, but his wife didn’t seem to get that.
She had a full-time assistant. And a part-time one, too, for times like these when she couldn’t be at Rose Harbor B and B herself. The weekend’s meals were all prepared and in the refrigerator, ready to heat. As cooking was Eliza’s passion, she did all of it herself.
Someone would be at the house to check in guests and tend to unforeseen needs: a pillow that was too hard or too soft, an allergy to a particular kind of soap, menu preferences that a guest might have forgotten to fill in ahead of time.
Pierce’s job was simply to be present. To welcome Eliza’s guests into their home as though they were friends. To chat with them and assure them that they were happy to accommodate their needs.
And to fix anything that might be broken. A toilet with a flush valve gone bad. A leaky faucet. Things Eliza could do, too, in a pinch.
His wife, a Harvard graduate, had a lot of surprising talents. He thought of her, and the fact that it was still early afternoon in California, as he drove home. Had to toss his cell phone to the backseat while he drove in an effort to stop himself from calling. And he concentrated on the evening ahead.
They had four of their six rooms filled that weekend. Two to families in town for a reunion. One an older couple who visited at least once a year. And the fourth to a recent widow, traveling on her own.
Other than the mingling, Pierce was happy to be a part of Eliza’s venture. To contribute.
Mostly he was happy to be her self-appointed sentry. Checking out as many of their guests as possible, assessing, making certain that there were no signs of risk.
And if there were, to investigate further. Without anyone being the wiser, of course.
He was there to serve the woman he loved.
For as long as he could be of use to her.
For as long as he was more help than hurt.
* * *
ELIZA WAS SHOWN to a counselor almost immediately. Probably because there’d been no one else in the waiting room that late on a Friday afternoon.
“Mary says you’re here to ask about one of our clients?” the woman, Mrs. Carpenter, said as she shook Eliza’s hand. She told her to take a seat before sitting back down herself.
The counselor looked to be in her mid-forties, with short, dark hair and a reserved but friendly smile. She was well-dressed in a gray suit with a maroon silk blouse. Eliza hadn’t seen her shoes before she sat down behind her desk, but figured them for fashionable heels.
“I received a letter from your office,” Eliza said. “Just before Christmas.” And that was when she’d started looking around for a reason to visit California without arousing Pierce’s suspicions—and had come upon the Family Secrets auditions.
Sort of. She was a huge fan of the show. And had been trying to figure out a way to pursue the letter when she’d been watching Family Secrets one night and had seen that there were going to be auditions in Raleigh the week between Christmas and New Year’s...
She’d seen that as a sign. In her imagination, as she’d watched the show over the past couple of years, she’d fancied herself a contestant many times—without ever expecting the chance to make the fantasy a possibility.
Without ever believing she’d have the moxie to actually pursue such a thing.
Until that letter arrived.
She’d told herself she’d try out. If she did make it, it would be another sign. She was supposed to pursue the letter.
But Mrs. Carpenter didn’t need to know any of that. The last thing she wanted was for the woman to think she was some kind of kook.
“I got a letter,” she said. As heat spread up her body, causing the outbreak of an instant sweat, she stood up. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carpenter. This was a mistake. I should never have come. I’m sorry for bothering you...wasting your time...”
The older woman stood, as well. Came around her desk to take Eliza’s hand, and then placed her other hand on Eliza’s arm. “Please, sit down,” she said, maintaining physical contact as she lowered to the chair next to Eliza’s. “You aren’t wasting my time. This is exactly what I’m here for.”
This. Eliza hadn’t even told her what this was. And just as she’d thought, Mrs. Carpenter
