When he pulled off the highway onto Seaside Road, he gave her the ten-cent tour of town. Circling the square with the gazebo, he pointed out all-important landmarks like the library.
She tossed her long black, magenta-streaked hair over her shoulder. “I don’t read.”
“You mean you don’t like to read.”
Rounding one side of the square, he gestured to the church.
Prompting a churlish sneer from Jade. “So not happening.”
He felt a surge of churlishness coming on himself. “You’ll do what I tell you to do, Jade.”
Which was about as effective as when his grandmother used to lay down the law for him and Beech. His grandmother had been right about church, though. It hadn’t hurt him.
“It’s a good way to get to know others your age in the community.”
Jade gave him a nice view of her back and didn’t bother to reply.
Fighting for patience, he pointed out the Coast Guard station, where flags fluttered. Recreational and commercial fishing boats bobbed in the harbor. He pulled into an empty space in front of the Sandpiper Café and cut the engine.
“Why are we stopping?”
“For the famous Long John doughnuts. They’re the best.”
She glared. “I repeat, why are we stopping?”
He reminded himself for the hundredth time since the social worker had called last week, he was the adult. And he needed to act like one.
Canyon rested his arms on the steering wheel. “This is where the locals hang out. This is where you get to redefine yourself, Jade. It’s a pretty little town. With lots of great people.”
“The same people who ran you and Beech out of town.”
He’d never once heard Jade call Beech father. Canyon knew enough to realize his feckless younger sibling had never earned the title.
“I came back because it’s a good place to live.” He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It’s the closest to home this Collier could find.”
Again, Jade curled her lip. “And courtesy of the Accomack County Sheriff’s Department, Beech found his new home in prison.”
“That was Beech’s own doing, Jade. I wouldn’t like to see you travel the same path. Kiptohanock is your chance for a new beginning.”
“Since when does anybody give Colliers like us second chances?”
Hardheadedness apparently being an unfortunate Collier family trait.
Canyon raked his hand over his head. “That’s exactly what I’m giving you, Jade. A chance to start over. You can be anything you want to be. Choose to be smarter than the rest of us sooner. How about doughnuts and a Coca-Cola float?”
He had it on good authority—his friend Sawyer Kole, ex-Coastie and now happily married father of five-month-old Daisy—that all kids loved ice cream and sugar.
But Jade refused to get out of the Jeep.
He gritted his teeth. Sawyer better enjoy his precious baby girl, because Canyon had news for him—parenting promised to only get rockier from there.
Exasperated, he swung open the car door. “More for me then.”
If this was a sign of things to come, it was going to be a long two years until she turned eighteen.
He moved toward the glass-fronted diner. Who was he kidding? He and Jade would be fortunate to survive together till Easter.
And his eyes flickered toward the cross atop the steeple. Jade—not the Coast Guard or flying airplanes—might make a praying man out of him yet.
Hands folded in her lap, Kristina glanced around the ladies’ parlor at the members of the church altar guild. She wasn’t sure why she’d come to the Easter planning meeting this morning. But while living the vagabond life of a military wife, she’d often longed for a place to establish roots.
Especially for Gray. He hadn’t been the type of child who adjusted well to a new school every few years. Bookish, a video geek, he didn’t make friends easily.
Nor did she. It was simpler not to reach out. Or face the inevitable sorrow of parting with friends when Pax was restationed.
But this time she wanted things to be different. This was a new start for them. Kiptohanock, a place to make a real home. After Pax died, she’d moved across the country to the Shore to be near Weston.
The Eastern Shore of Virginia was a narrow peninsula separating the Chesapeake Bay from the Atlantic Ocean. Isolated. Not as readily accessible to the rest of the continental United States.
Her grandfather had been the last lighthouse keeper before the Coast Guard decommissioned the lighthouse in the 1950s. But her family had returned each summer. She possessed fond memories of those idyllic beach days and wanted Gray to know the same.
Small-town life. A caring community. After a lifetime of following Pax around the world.
Here, Gray had a chance to know what it meant to be part of a close-knit family. To watch summer fireflies. To clam. To fish. Before he left her forever.
So when she read the announcement in the church bulletin inviting anyone interested in serving on the altar guild to attend a planning meeting, she’d decided to give it a try. To make new friends. To get involved in community life.
Now she wasn’t so sure. The encounter with Canyon Collier had left her feeling oddly exposed. She shrugged off the vague feelings of vulnerability. Anyone would be shaken after almost being run over by an airplane. And she pushed the incident to the nether regions of her mind.
Her gaze traveled over the ladies at the meeting. Sixtysomething Mrs. Davenport held court in a brocade armchair strategically placed at the unofficial head of the room. According to Caroline, Mrs. Davenport was a social force to be reckoned with in Kiptohanock.
Librarian Evy Pruitt perched in a nearby chair. The pastor’s wife, Agnes Parks, smiled at Kristina while Mrs. Davenport waxed on about Lenten altar cloths. And there was also Caroline’s sister, Honey Kole. She owned the Duer Fisherman’s Lodge. Her darling baby daughter dozed in her car seat on the carpet at Honey’s feet.
Kristina bit off a sigh. She’d always wanted more children. But Pax had been deployed so often that he thought after Gray was born, one child was enough.
Honey played with the pearls at her throat. “What about breakfast after the Easter sunrise service?”
The other ladies hid their smiles behind teacups. And Kristina got the distinct impression if anyone was likely to challenge Mrs. Davenport’s leadership, Honey Duer Kole might be the one to do it.
Which was fine. Kristina had no social aspirations. By nature, she was more worker bee than queen bee.
An officer’s wife learned early to tune in to the fine nuances of base politics. It was how you furthered your husband’s career, kept your family intact and survived the long deployments with fellow military wives.
Finally, the discussion shifted to the topic Kristina was interested in—the altar flowers. Bending, Honey smoothed the pink blanket tucked around her daughter. “It’s so inconvenient to have to travel out of town for floral arrangements.”
Mrs. Davenport peered over the top of her purple reading glasses. “And considering the expense, it behooves us to find another solution.”
Behooves? Mrs. Davenport reminded Kristina of the high-society clients with whom she’d worked as a part-time floral assistant during her college days