LILY’S LIFE LESSON #21
Go big because going home a failure sucks.
The next few days passed in a blur, with Lily firming up the new programs she’d implemented for the resort and setting up as much as she could to fulfill her obligations and the bartering promises she’d made. Trace’s dangerous talk about the future during their skinny-dipping adventure stiffened Lily’s resolve to get everything in order so she could come clean without leaving the Remington at risk.
She sat at her desk and finished up a list of instructions and contact numbers should a new person fill the hospitality manager’s position in the near future.
Ronald Parker was scheduled to arrive—she glanced at the time on the screen—fifteen minutes ago.
The clock had run out on her conscience, and she planned to tell Trace the truth as soon as she could get him alone. Unfortunately, alone time had been in short supply between Lily’s busy work schedule, Trace getting his delivery business ready to roll, Trace’s endless argumentative phone calls with his ex-wife, who still hadn’t dropped the custody suit, and Ben’s science project.
She picked up her phone and sent Trace a text.
Did you notice Ronald Parker on your manifest?
The dots did their dance.
Yep. Running late. Guests’ luggage didn’t show yet.
Lily sighed. To keep busy, she flipped through the next few months on the reservations calendar, very few vacancies showing. Now fully staffed, the resort already buzzed with activity even though the official summer season didn’t kick off until the following weekend. Her hard work was already paying off for the Remington family. They deserved it.
Even though her stay on the island also marked the biggest personal failure of her life, Lily was proud of all she’d accomplished professionally in such a short amount of time. When it came to the job Lawrence had hired her to do, she’d kicked a lot of ass and taken more than a few names.
She planned to go big for the Remington. Unfortunately, she might also have to go home, which would suck.
“Lily!” Ben rambled through her office door with his usual unfiltered zeal. A pumpkin-shaped candy basket dangled from one of his fists, and squawking came from inside.
“Hey, Ben,” she said. “Home from school?”
“Yeah!” He tumbled around the desk to stand next to her. “I brought Waddles to see you!” He barely took a breath.
She peeked inside the basket. “Hi, Waddles.”
The bird cackled in response and pecked at the cushion of duck-food pellets around his feet.
“Can we print the pictures of the ducks? I have to start the poster for my science project.” He bounced with excitement. “I have to stand up in front of the whole class and give a presentation.”
Such a big word for a small kid. Then again, Ben was mature beyond his age. She often had to remind herself he was eight.
“My turn to give the presentation is next week. Are you still coming?”
She chewed her lip because she didn’t want to let Ben down the way his mother had. “If I’m on the island, I’ll be there.” With a few swipes on the screen of her phone, the printer spurred to life and spit out several pictures of the ducklings. “Wow. Look how much they’ve grown.” She flipped through the shots on the screen. “They’ve gotten huge since we found them.”
“You found ’em,” Ben corrected.
She angled her head to the side. “Yes, but they’re our ducks. You’ve done a great job taking care of them, kiddo.”
“Can you help me right now?” Ben asked.
“Sure.” She laced her fingers on top of the desk.
“Then come on!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair, still holding on tight to the orange basket that had been converted into a pet carrier.
“Wait,” she said with a laugh and grabbed the stack of printouts. “We can’t forget the pictures.” She let Ben drag her outside. The sky was darkening, and the wind had picked up, making the trees shift and dance in that ominous way before a storm. “Should we bring Waddles home?”
Ben shook his head and kept pulling her along. “Waddles needs to come with us.”
When they reached the dock, Ben stopped and frowned.
She looked up at the dark thunderclouds rolling in from the mainland. “I’m not sure your dad wants you down here with a storm coming.”
“I need to find a new place for the ducks to swim,” Ben said. “The pond I made for them isn’t big enough anymore.”
“Sweetie, I didn’t bring my phone. Maybe we should go back to my office and call your dad. Or we could wait here for him. He should be flying in soon.”
“No,” Ben insisted and rubbed his thigh with his free hand. “Dad said he’d be home by now, but he isn’t. This is part of my project. I need you to help me with it now.”
She looked off into the distance. Trace hadn’t said how long he’d be, and she didn’t want Ben to get upset. His insistent demeanor usually meant he’d set his mind on something and wasn’t going to give up. She weighed the situation, finally sighing. She’d rather help Ben with his project than risk him wandering off to find the ducks a place to swim on his own.
She pointed to the pier. “How about there? When they’re ready, we can let them swim by the pier.”
He shook his head. “It’s too close to where Dad lands. I learned in science class that birds are dangerous to airplanes.”
“You’re such a smart kid. Sweet too.” How many eight-year-olds thought of their parents’ safety? “Not to mention cute.”
“Dad says guys aren’t supposed to be cute.”
“Too late,” she teased. “Because you are, and so is your dad.” She took in the gloomy sky. “Your dad showed me a place. If we hurry, we can get back to my cottage before it starts raining.” She bent to slide the printed pages under a heavy rock. “Let’s leave the pictures of the ducks here. I’ll have to piggyback you because the trail’s muddy.”
It took some doing, but Ben was finally on her back with one arm around her neck and the other clutching the pet carrier for dear life.
“Hold on tight to me and Waddles.” She picked her way through mud until they reached the yellow rope. She maneuvered them under it and kept going until they cleared the trees and stood in the sandy cove. “What about here?”
“Whoa.” His voice was pure wonderment. He ran to the water’s edge.
She ran after him. “Ben, maybe you shouldn’t let Waddles—”
Ben scooped the bird out of the carrier and set him in the water before Lily could finish.
The bird darted out to the center of the cove.
“Waddles!” Ben yelled. “Come back!” He tried to run into the water.
“Ben! No!” Lily captured him in her arms. She had no idea how deep the water was.
Ben’s arms flailed to get loose, and he hollered.
Waddles swam in circles. He preened and made new noises Lily hadn’t heard from the ducks yet, like he was speaking a new language now that he’d been introduced to his natural habitat. He dove under the water.
Ben struggled to get free. “Waddles!”
Tears stung Lily’s eyes as she held Ben back. She’d never seen him have a full-on meltdown, and it stabbed at her heart. Even worse, it was her fault for giving in to him to begin with instead of waiting for Trace.
The gathering storm and windy conditions didn’t make for a smooth landing when Trace set the plane down in the inlet. Farther down the dock, sheets of paper littered the pier as he hopped out of his plane. Grinding his teeth, he opened the door for the passengers, one of whom was Ronald Parker.
The guy seemed to watch Trace’s every move, and his gut told him Parker wasn’t just a guest who enjoyed the Remington.
Trace had been preoccupied with work, Ben, Lily, and the new family routine they were settling into. Megan calling him every night with veiled threats if he didn’t agree to at least partial custody hadn’t helped. Apparently, someone had convinced her that she still had a chance of winning a custody battle, even after showing up at the resort during a field trip and acting like the mommy from hell.
He’d had it and had been interviewing lawyers over the phone to narrow down his search before he set up face-to-face appointments on the mainland. All things considered, he wasn’t surprised he’d let the notification of Parker’s unwanted reservation slip through the cracks.
Elliott stepped up to help the guests from the plane.
“Need help with the luggage?” Spence asked, walking up. “I ran out of drywall for the game room, so I’m free at the moment.”
Trace nodded. “This is my last run for the day too.”
Spence and Elliott shot Trace a glance when Ronald Parker stepped out of the plane.
Trace scratched his left temple with his right thumb, which was Remington brothers’ code for This joker can’t be trusted.
A harsh gust of wind sent several sheets of paper tumbling around their feet. Trace picked one up and turned it over. His forehead wrinkled as he looked down at a picture of the ducks.
Just then he heard muffled shouts in the distance. His head popped up, and he stared down the narrow trail behind the boathouse.
Something odd slithered up his spine.
The guests milled around the dock as his brothers unloaded the luggage.
Trace held up a hand. “Shhh.”
As soon as the shuffling feet stopped moving and everyone went quiet, another shout came from the direction of the cove. Made no sense because that area was off-limits to everyone.
He cocked his head and listened, still holding up his hand to keep everyone quiet. The next shout sounded an awful lot like Ben.
Trace dropped the paper and took off at a dead run. When he reached the muddy trail, he didn’t slow. The soft ground shifted under his feet, sending him tumbling into the thick brush. He jumped up, ignoring the sting of cuts and bruises, and kept running. He vaulted over the yellow rope like an Olympic track star and kept running until he broke through the clearing.
They stood in water just below their knees, and Lily had her arms anchored around Ben like a straitjacket. Tears streaked her cheeks.
Ben was hysterical. “Waddles!” He twisted and thrashed.
One of the ducks—presumably Waddles—floated in the center of the cove.
Trace reached them in a few long, powerful strides. He grasped Ben’s arms. “Ben, calm down.”
Did no good.
Ben sobbed. “We have to get Waddles.”
Spence and Elliott both splashed into the water alongside Trace.
“Elliott, go take care of the guests at the dock,” Trace said. “The last thing we need is an incident ruining our summer season.”
As he turned to watch Elliott trudge back to the trailhead, Trace’s anger flared.
Ronald Parker stood in the clearing with his phone pointing right at them. He didn’t ask if anyone was hurt. Didn’t ask if he could help. Just kept recording.
“Spence, stay here with Lily?” Trace asked because his son was still bawling and fighting to get loose.
Spence nodded, and Trace stalked over to Parker. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
“Trace,” Lily said from behind him. “I think he’s here because of me.”
Parker’s lips curved up into a self-satisfied smile.
He wasn’t sure what Lily had to do with any of this, but he was damn sure going to get answers. “Start talking, Parker.” Trace’s tone had gone low and lethal, and he took a step toward Parker.
Parker’s face paled, but he kept recording. “Megan’s agent hired me. I came here to gather information on you, but Ms. Barns fell into my lap like a gift. Or do you call her by her real name?”
Her real name? Trace turned to stare at Lily.
“Trace, I can explain,” Lily said, glancing at Ben. “Can we talk alone?”
Trace pinched the corners of his eyes. “So that’s how Megan knew to get Ben a duck-themed gift.” Trace drew in a breath and clamped his hands to his side to keep from wringing this clown’s neck. “You’ve been spying on me to help my ex-wife win custody of our son?”
“No!” Ben yelled. “I’m not moving to Los Angeles! I live here!” He tore free from Lily’s grasp, and before Spence could grab him, he plunged into the water.
“Ben!” Lily screamed.
Spence went after him.
Trace hit the water running and didn’t stop. He dove in, passed Spence, and caught Ben just as the water reached his neck. “Ben,” he growled. “Stop it. We’ll get the duck, but you have to stop fighting me.”
Ben shrieked hysterically in the throes of the worst autistic meltdown he’d ever had.
Spence swam out and tucked the quacking duck under one arm.
When they were close enough to shore to stand, Spence handed the duck to Ben, who stopped wailing and fighting for the first time since the whole mess began.
Trace knew from Spence’s tortured look how difficult the situation was for him. “Thanks, little brother. I owe you.”
Spence’s face was pale, but he shook his head. “That’s what families do.”
Trace carried Ben onto dry land and loosened his hold on him. Ben ran to Lily and burrowed into her side as she stroked his hair.
When Trace looked up and saw Parker still recording, he’d had enough. “Want to record something? How about this.” Trace stalked over to him again. “You’re really going to help a woman gain custody who hasn’t shown a morsel of interest in her son since he was born? You’d actually help take a special-needs child away from his stable home to dump him in an environment that’s uncertain at best? You’re that much of a scumbag?”
“You gave your ex-wife the leverage she was looking for when you let Ms. Barns into your life,” Parker said, looking past him to Lily. “It wasn’t hard to track down information about you because of your accent. All it took was a little snooping and some googling.”
“Trace.” Lily lowered her voice. “I’ll explain everything when we’re alone.”
His hair prickled on the back of his neck. He’d had the same sensation the first night she’d arrived on the island, and he’d ignored it. Now something told him that had been a decision he’d live to regret.
“Ben, can you and Uncle Spence take Waddles home?” Trace asked.
Spence got the message. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”
Parker turned to leave behind Spence and Ben.
“Hold up.” Trace drew himself up to tower over Parker. “Tell Megan and her agent I’ll take my chances in court. I’m guessing the autistic charity that pays Megan won’t care much for a spokesperson who doesn’t want to be around her own autistic child.” Trace folded his arms in a don’t-fuck-with-me gesture. “And I’m guessing you have a few secrets you’d rather keep buried too, Mr. Parker. When I find out what they are, I’ll bet a judge won’t like the fact that my ex-wife is responsible for sending you here to spend time around my son. I’d also wager the authorities will be interested in your secrets. So get off my property,” Trace said. “Better yet, get off my island, or I’ll throw you off myself.”
Parker turned and sped up the trail.
As soon as they were alone, Trace turned to Lily. “Care to tell me what he was talking about?” And for the first time in weeks, there was no softness to his tone when he spoke to her.