“It’s 5:45 in the morning. Most people are.” She studied him. “I can’t tell if you’re happy or not,” she admitted.
He looked at her. “I’m happy. Of course I am. She’s my daughter.” He dropped his gaze. “I sent her away, Helen. I sent my own daughter to boarding school when she was fifteen. I can never forgive myself for that.”
She glanced at the clock and saw they only had a few minutes until her early regulars started showing up. She sat on the stool next to his.
“It’s not as if you got tired of her and wanted her out of the way. She’s not a puppy you returned to the pound.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but still.” He turned so he was facing her. “I was terrified she was going to turn out like her mother. Marilee had always kept her close and after she left, Olivia was lost. I could see it, but didn’t know what to do. I tried, but hell, I’m sure I failed her a dozen ways to Sunday. As she got older, I could see more and more of Marilee in her. I told myself I was making the right decision, but sometimes I wonder if I took the easy way out instead.”
Every now and then she told herself the only solution to her problem was to fall out of love with Jeff. To figure out his flaws and focus on them. And then he went and did something like admitting his faults and regretting them. Because so many people ignored what was wrong. So many people simply pretended they were always right and everyone else screwed up.
“You wanted what was best for your daughter,” she pointed out.
“I sent her away.”
“You sent her to a well-respected school where she was able to be with girls her own age and grow.”
“I sent her away.”
“Yes, you did and saying that over and over again doesn’t change what happened. If you really believe you were wrong, tell her and apologize. If you made the best decision you could under the circumstances, then get over it.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “That’s telling me.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You were turning into a girl.”
He chuckled. “You always surprise me, Helen. And I mean that in a good way. You’re smart, you’re determined, you speak your mind. When your ex cheated on you, you booted him out on his ass. I admire that. I should have done the same thing with Marilee. Instead I put up with her ways for years. What lesson did that teach my girls?”
“At least you got married for a fairly noble reason.”
“Because I knocked her up?”
“You know what I mean. You did the right thing. I can’t even say I did that.”
“Why did you marry Troy?” He held up a hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You were in love with him.”
She stared into Jeff’s brown eyes and knew she had to come clean. If not for him, then for herself. To say the truth aloud meant it wouldn’t have power over her anymore.
“He was the first person to say he loved me after my parents died. No one else ever had. I’m sure my aunt and uncle cared about me, but they weren’t the type to say the words.”
“Helen.”
His tone was gentle and caring. For a second she thought he was going to reach for her, but there was only the single word. Alas.
“They weren’t bad people,” she continued. “But it made me sad, so when he said he loved me, I married him.” She grimaced. “And then he cheated, so I threw him out.” She held up a hand. “I take that back. The first time, I gave him a chance. The second time, I threw him out.”
“Admirable.”
Before she could say anything else, the front door opened and a couple of customers walked in. Helen felt the tenuous connection between her and Jeff snap as she rose to greet them.
Customers were seated, orders taken. She poured coffee and chatted and before she knew it, Jeff was waving goodbye. She gave him a quick smile as she went to pick up several breakfasts.
The work was familiar, she thought, and all she’d known for years. Funny how she hadn’t planned to stay in Tulpen Crossing. She’d saved like crazy for college, thinking she would get her degree and leave town. She’d been considering nursing—the kind of skill that meant she could get a job anywhere and always support herself. Because that was important. Her parents had died broke, leaving her little more than memories and a piano. Her aunt and uncle had made it clear that once she turned eighteen she was on her own. If she wanted to continue to work at the diner, then she could still live with them. Otherwise, she was expected to leave.
She’d chosen the most sensible path—working full-time at the diner and taking classes at Skagit Valley College, all the while saving every penny she could for when she transferred to a four-year college. She’d met Troy her second quarter. They’d started dating and somehow she hadn’t had the time for her third quarter. An embarrassing truth, but there it was.
Instead she’d told herself she was in love and had accepted his proposal. They’d moved in together, had a small wedding and life had gone on with her working at the diner. Dreams of leaving town had been put on hold. After the divorce, she’d been too hurt and embarrassed to do much more than get through her day. And just when she’d been thinking of going back to college, her uncle had suffered his first stroke.
While he’d recovered from that, his second stroke had left him much more debilitated. Her aunt had offered to sell her the diner at a reasonable price. Helen had spent two weeks considering her options before coming to the realization that she had nowhere else to go. No family, no connections. Everyone she knew in the world lived in Tulpen Crossing. Ironically, Troy had left town after the divorce.
So she’d made the decision to stay. To buy the diner and make her life here. She’d taken up playing the piano again and through that had started working with JML, and had fallen for her best friend’s father. And here she was, all these years later, still in love with him.
She wasn’t sure if that made her slightly foolish or mortally idiotic, because to date she had no evidence that Jeff saw her as other than a friend.
Which left her with only two options—get over him or take a chance and be willing to live with the consequences. Because if he turned her down, well, then she would have nothing at all.
* * *
Kelly couldn’t remember ever having a hangover. She wasn’t one to get drunk very often, or ever. She enjoyed the occasional cocktail or glass of wine, but she was fairly confident she’d never downed half a bottle of vodka before.
Most of the details of the concert were hazy. She knew she’d hung out with Griffith and had said some fairly unfortunate things. What exactly wasn’t clear, although she did have a humiliating recollection of complaining that Olivia had boobs and she didn’t.
Somewhere around 2:00 a.m. she’d gotten up to drink more water and had promptly thrown up in the kitchen sink. That had been attractive. She’d stayed up, sipping water until nearly four when it had seemed safe for her to go back to bed. She’d slept until six thirty.
One shower later, she was feeling almost human. The pounding in her head was pretty awful but wouldn’t be fixed until she could down an aspirin—something that couldn’t happen until she ate. The thought of food was enough to make her want to kill herself, only she didn’t think she had a choice.
She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, then ran a comb through her wet hair. Maybe dry toast, she thought. Or a banana. She thought she’d read somewhere that a banana was good for a hangover because of the potassium.
She stumbled to the kitchen and put a slice of bread in the toaster. Her father,