CHAPTER EIGHT
“ M om.” Hope walked to where her mother stood in the doorway. Not overly tall, her mouth was formed in its usual tight line. She wore black, also usual, and thick-framed black glasses. “They’re new,” Hope said.
“I need them for reading, and as I was just doing so, they are still on my face.”
“Well, it’s good to see you.”
“And you.”
She moved forward and kissed her mother’s cheek, then felt a hand pat her shoulder. That was as close as it got to a warm greeting in the Lawrence household. Very aware of Newman watching, she turned and motioned for him to hand over her pack. Instead he moved to her side.
“When was the last time you saw each other?”
“Four years ago.”
“Then for the love of God, hug each other.”
He was angry, and that confused Hope. Why was he angry that she wasn’t hugging her mother? This was just how they did things.
“Not everyone has to have a three-act play just to go down the road for milk, Newman. Not every person is demonstrative like you and your posse.” She grabbed the straps of her pack, and this time gave them a really hard yank. “Now give me my bag and go away.”
For once her mother seemed happy to watch proceedings, standing upright on the doorstep. Leaning was not permitted for Millicent Lawrence.
He relented, but only because she was still tugging and he couldn’t stop her.
“That’s what normal people do.”
“Ah, I see what the problem is, Paul,” her mother surprised them both by saying. “We have never been normal, and it’s not our wish to be.”
Newman’s mouth fell open. Hope bit her lip to stop from smiling. Millicent Lawrence was a hard, tough woman, and while there were times in their childhood that they’d wished for another parent, she was always fair. Scrupulously so. But what people didn’t know was that sometimes, when she let down her guard, she could also be funny.
“Was that a joke?” he said, looking confused.
“It’ll do you good to work that one out for yourself, Paul. Too many people fall all over themselves to please you. Now take yourself off my property, young man. I wish to speak with my daughter.”
“Not a joke then, is my guess,” he muttered. Giving Hope a hard look that she tried to decipher, but couldn’t, he left, loping up the drive in that easy way of his.
“Always liked that boy.”
“What?” Hope spun back to face her mother.
“He’s sharp, kind, but has a bit of mean also. An excellent combination.”
Hope eyed her mother suspiciously, but she was already turning and entering the house.
“You got new carpet,” Hope said, following. It was beige, and softened the house. Entering the lounge, she looked out the windows at her mother’s gardens, lush and colorful. Gardening was something Millicent Lawrence was obsessed with. The other thing was the Lake Howling book club.
“Are you hungry?”
“A bit,” Hope said, passing through the lounge and into one of the rooms off it. Her room. Not big, it had been her haven as a child. She and Ryan had been allowed to do what the hell they wanted with their rooms, as long as they stayed clean. She’d gone for pale blue, with pictures of birds. Hope had always loved birds. Her bed was a single, covered in a neat white throw. Her books were still stacked on the shelves, and the rest of her things as she’d left them.
“You can use this room as you want, Mom. It doesn’t need to stay like this.”
“I know. I have no other use for it yet.”
She lowered her pack to the bed and sank onto it as she let the memories come and go. Firsts, frustrations, and loves. She’d had them all in this room.
“Why are you no longer working with Wildlife, Hope?”
Hope dragged her eyes from the trophy she’d got for photographs of the redwoods she’d taken for a school project.
“It was time to move on.” She wasn’t quite ready to come clean to her mother. The weight of disapproval over being fired from Wildlife would be heavy, especially as she would not be telling her the reasons.
“If that was the truth I would understand, but it is not.”
Her mother had always known when she was lying. Hope had just thought that with age and distance she may have gotten better and more convincing at it.
“I have no wish to discuss it now. What’s done is done. I need to move forward.” Hope looked down at her bare knees. Thinking about Wildlife still made her feel ill.
“I will make tea then.” She felt a brief touch on her head, and then her mother was gone. “And when the time comes I will be here to listen. I’m pleased you’re home, daughter.”
People thought Millicent Lawrence was a hard, prickly woman. And for the most she was, but she had been the best mother she could be to her two children, although the general populace of Howling believed otherwise.
“Tea would be welcome, thank you.”
Hope spent the first four days of her return to Howling at home. On day two, she built up the courage to open her computer and search for the pictures that Jay “limp dick” Herald, as she was now calling him thanks to Newman, had stolen from her. This was the first time she’d allowed herself to look at the catalogue of photos she’d taken of the whooping crane. Those shots had been two years of work on her part. She’d given much of herself for those pictures, ignoring exhaustion and cold and hot conditions. Looking at them now, she realized they were some of her best work. Seeing his name attached to them made her go cold.
Rage took her breath as she thought about what he’d done. It wasn’t the credit or the accolades, it was the fact that he’d deliberately set about to manipulate her into trusting him so he could inevitably steal from her. She’d been slow to trust him too, but he’d persisted and eventually she’d relented, believing he cared for her. It had all been a lie. The intimate dinners he’d cooked for her. The hugs and kisses, and yes, the lovemaking. His plan to ruin her life had been an elaborate one, and she’d been a naïve fool.
She hadn’t known that she was worthy of such an attack, but looking at her pictures now, objectively, she realized she had been. They were good… better than good. Now, however, she would never have a chance to work for an organization like Wildlife again, because it was a small community, and word spread. Hope now had a large black mark against her name. Casey Rae Linear and Jay Herald would have seen to that. Her ex-boss and ex-lover.
Helping her mother garden and doing simple things around the house had given her focus. Helped center her. She wasn’t sure what was next for Hope Lawrence, but what surprised her the most was that she was happy to be back here. Even more surprising was that she and her mother were cohabitating without strenuous argument.
This morning, however, her mother had had enough.
“I need you to get some things for me today, Hope. It’s time you left the house.”
And that, as far as her mother was concerned, was that. So here she was, walking down the main street and back into town, praying she didn’t run into anyone who wanted to talk about her work, or even talk to her. Which of course was a faint hope at best. This town was full of people who knew her, after all. Even knowing she was introverted didn’t stop people from wanting to talk to her. Friendly courtesy, Newman would call it.
“Hope Lawrence. Well it’s about time you returned home.”
Her shoulders shot back as she looked at the one woman she could term a friend, loosely, of her mother. Henrietta Roberts Haigh—HRH, everyone called her, when she wasn’t listening. Big, rawboned, and intimidating. She had terrorized the students and young people of Lake Howling for many years. Hope, however, was raised by an equally intimidating person, so she coped better.
“Good morning, Ms. Roberts Haigh.”
“I imagine your mother was pleased to see you after so long. I hope you have returned for good, or at least an extended period?”
“As yet the length is undetermined.”
“Why anyone would leave here is beyond me.” The woman’s eyes narrowed as she glared down at Hope.
“There’s an entire world out there, Mrs. Roberts Haigh. Some of us like to experience it.”
She harrumphed, nodded, then walked away without another word.
Passing the church where she had spent many Sundays, Hope enjoyed the beauty of Howling. She’d brought her camera as she always did, and snapped photos as she reacquainted herself with the rustic buildings and shops that carried names like the Hoot and the Roar. The streets were immaculate as always, and heading into summer the locals were gearing up for a busy season. Not that it wasn’t always busy; this place collected people all year.
“Hey there, Hope.”
Short with honey-colored curls, the immaculately dressed woman before her was nothing like she had once been, brittle and cold. This one was warm and radiated happiness. Macy Reynolds.
“Macy, how are you?” Hope looked at the sign on the window of the shop Macy stood in. “This your store?”
“It is, and if you want anything you let me know, and I’ll give you the discount I do for friends.”
“Ah, sure.” Hope looked down at her clothes. They’d been from a thrift store. Friends? Not likely.
“You staying with your mom?”
“I am, yes.”
“Well, if you want another place, I have the cottage free at the moment. It’s yours if you want. In fact, come in for a sec.”
Macy disappeared, leaving Hope no choice but to follow. She found a big man lounging against the counter.
“Hope, this is Brad, also known as TJ, depending on who you’re talking to.”
Muscled, tanned, and good-looking, the man straightened and gave her an easy smile. His dark hair cut short, he wore a faded T-shirt and denim cutoffs that came to his knees.
“Pleasure to meet you, Hope.”
His drawl told her he was Texan. She kept her distance from him. Hope had always been highly suspicious of men who were too handsome, especially now, after Jay.
She nodded and looked for Macy, who’d disappeared out the back of the shop. Looking around, she saw racks of clothes, and shelves of shoes and accessories. The place made her itch. Hope didn’t frequent these types of stores.
“So, Hope. You’re a local, right?”
“Yes.”
“You been away for a while?”
“Yes.” She concentrated on the glass cabinet that was filled with jewelry.
“Back for long?”
“No.”
“You got a problem in general, or just with me?”
That had her looking at him. He was smiling, a small confused one. And she felt a wash of shame.
“No problem. Sorry.” She made herself smile, more a lip curl, but surely she’d get points for effort. “I’m not good with people.”
The smile widened and added a whole new level of handsome to his face.
“Never easy in a world filled with them.”
She snuffled.
“The trick is to learn to project a pleasant facade, Hope. It’s how I get through.”
“You?” She snorted this time. “I can’t imagine you having trouble with people.”
“You’d be surprised. I was a real asshole for a while there, and I wasn’t good with people either. But I learned that life is a great deal easier if you at least look pleasant, even if inside you’re wanting to punch someone.”
“Ah, sure.”
“Here it is.” Macy appeared, and the smile on Brad’s face widened. She saw the love then, turned to Macy, and saw it returned. She refused to acknowledge the pain in her chest that no one had ever looked at her that way. Jay had, but she now knew that was a lie.
“You keep this, Hope.” Macy held out a key ring to her. “And if you want to stay there, all good. Or if you just need a place for some solitude then it’s yours too. After all, can’t imagine it’s easy being home with your mom again. I know I could never live with mine.”
“Who’s her mom?” Brad asked.
“Ms. Lawrence.”
Hope found her first genuine smile at the horrified look on Brad’s face. He quickly changed it, but she’d seen it.
“Sorry, I meant no disrespect. Your mother is just…”
“Awkward, belligerent, and downright terrifying?” Hope filled in the gap.
Macy giggled.
“I’d never say that about someone’s mother, especially if that someone was standing before me,” Brad declared.
“I don’t need your keys, Macy. Really.”
“Yes, you do.” Macy took Hope’s hand and placed the keys inside. “And the reason you’re taking them is part payment for the catalogue you’re going to shoot for me while you’re here.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re not working, and a whizz with that thing around your neck, so why not?”
Hope searched for a reason, but her mind didn’t seem to be working with its usual accuracy.
“I—ah, I don’t usually take photos of people.”
“People, animals.” Macy waved a hand about. “It’s all the same.”
“I’m telling them you compared them to animals,” Brad drawled.
“So what do you say?” Macy looked at Hope. “I’ll pay, and you can have the use of the cottage while you’re here.”
Seconds later, Hope left the store with the key in her pocket, having agreed to shoot Macy’s spring catalogue.
“What the hell?” she muttered. She’d forgotten that about this place. When you were a local, people just took it for granted that you wanted to do stuff for them, just as they did stuff for you.
She needed to get another job and out of there soon, before she was booked up doing weddings, birthdays, and anything else that needed a photographer!