Chapter 14

“What’s wrong?” Krista asked Grace over a muffin on Monday morning.

Grace picked at her muffin’s top. “Nothing.”

“Oh really? Is that why you’re neglecting your dessert?”

“I thought this was breakfast,” Grace said, looking up.

“Breakfast. Dessert. Same thing.” Krista took another happy bite of her own muffin. After a moment she followed it with a sip of coffee and scrutinized Grace with a stare. “Guy troubles?” she asked.

Grace shook her head.

“So you’re going to tell me this has nothing to do with Jack?”

“No,” Grace said honestly. Then she backtracked. “Well, it kind of does, but it has to do with all of the Sawyers.”

Krista folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

Grace sighed and met her friend’s warm eyes. “Okay, I guess I can tell you. I entered the East Coast fishing tournament because I want to win the money prize.”

Krista grinned. “Well, duh. What I don’t know is why you need the money. I mean I know your mom is sick, but…”

Grace pulled her lower lip between her teeth and bit down softly. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone her plan. Not until it was a done deal. Not until she’d won the tournament and the money was hers. Until she’d handed it over to Garrison Tomlin. “I wanted to use the prize money to buy the Beatrice back for the Sawyer family.”

Krista’s eyes widened. “What? I thought no one even knew who owned it.”

Grace cocked her head to the side. “My mom knew. She just never wanted to tell Pete. She was mad at him for divorcing her, which he had every right to do, I guess. But my mom is different now.”

Kristen nodded and reached a hand out to touch Grace’s forearm. “I know she is. I’ve seen it for myself. So what’s the problem?” Krista asked. “The Sawyers will be thrilled to have the Beatrice back.”

Grace frowned. “The problem is that the owner is refusing to sell it to me.”

Krista’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Why? It’s not that great of a boat, is it?”

Grace shrugged. “I think it has more to do with the fact that it once belonged to the Sawyers. My mom says he didn’t like the Sawyer family much. Specifically Pete. I’m not sure why.”

“What are you going to do?” Krista asked.

Grace finally popped a piece of her muffin into her mouth and chewed. “I figure that everyone has their price. I’m going to go find Mr. Tomlin myself and talk to him. Make him understand that this boat means everything to me.”

“Don’t you think you’re acting out of turn?” Krista asked. “You haven’t even won the tournament yet.”

“I have two of the best fishermen in Blushing Bay on my crew,” Grace said proudly. “We have to win.” Because it was the only chance she had at mending the rift between their families. And the only chance she had at turning this thing she had going with Jack into something real.

After work, Grace followed the directions she’d printed out on Google Maps to the address she had scrawled on the back of a receipt. Jack had asked to come over tonight, but she’d told him she couldn’t. She’d lied to him, which felt more wrong than the typical white lie. She wasn’t hanging out with her mother tonight. Instead, she was on her way to see what she imagined was a lonely old man, who probably didn’t even like to go out on the boat anymore.

Garrison Tomlin lived about an hour’s drive from Blushing Bay. The mostly barren one-lane roads curved through expanses of trees. When Grace finally pulled into Mr. Tomlin’s driveway, it was after 6 P.M. A little wave of nervousness crashed over her. He didn’t have to let her in. He didn’t have to hear her out. There was no reason for him to do anything she asked.

She climbed the porch steps, reminding herself with every one that her mother had asked her to make things right. This was how she was doing it. Grace needed things to be made right just as much as, if not more than, her mother.

With a shallow inhale, she pressed the doorbell before she could talk herself out of it. Scuffling could be heard behind the door. A dog barking. Judging by the high pitch, she guessed it was a tiny dog. The kind with sharp teeth.

Grace cast a backward glance at her car. She could run now. She was sure she was faster than the little dog behind Mr. Tomlin’s front door itching to nip at her ankles.

Too late.

The door opened and an older man, just as she’d envisioned, stared back at her. The man, and a tiny teacup Chihuahua, looked her up and down.

Grace was too nervous to speak for a moment. Her entire fate seemed to hang on his agreement to her proposal.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

Grace cleared her throat. “Mr. Tomlin?”

He nodded.

“My name is Grace Donner. I—”

“You’re that girl who wants to buy the boat. I already told you. It’s not for sale,” he said, reaching for the edge of the door, presumably to slam it in her face.

“No, no, no. Please, don’t do that,” she said. “I just want five minutes of your time. I want to explain to you why that boat is so important to me. It’s important to the healing of two families.”

The ankle biter in Mr. Tomlin’s hands growled low in its little throat.

“Fine. But five minutes is all you get, and the answer is still going to be no when you’re done.”

“Thank you.” Grace shut the door behind her and followed the old man inside the dark house with a TV blaring from the front room. She looked at all the photographs on the wall as she passed through. They were of happy, lively people in sharp contrast to this man. People who didn’t live here, Grace assumed. Maybe they weren’t even in Mr. Tomlin’s life anymore.

He sat on a worn recliner and reached for the TV’s remote. With a push of the mute button, silence punctuated the room.

Grace sat on the edge of the couch and folded her hands in her lap. She’d served drinks to guys who looked and acted just like Mr. Tomlin for years. She knew how to get along with anyone. “Here’s the thing. My mother never had any right to sell that boat to you.”

“Your mother?” he asked, interest piquing his curiosity now.

“Yes. She’s the one who sold you the boat all those years ago. It didn’t belong to her, though. It belonged to my stepdad.”

“I know your stepdad,” he said with a healthy dose of irritation. “Pete Sawyer.”

Grace nodded. “That’s right.”

“He stole my girlfriend in high school. Did you know that?”

Grace shook her head. “No.”

“I loved that girl and Pete snatched her right out from under me. Literally,” he said, casting an image in Grace’s mind that she’d probably never rid herself of.

“I’m not sure I understand.” She wrung her hands in her lap nervously.

“My girlfriend’s name was Beatrice. She was mine before she was Pete’s.”

Grace’s lips parted. Ohhhhhh. Things were starting to make sense now. “And that’s why you wanted the boat. You knew my mother was selling it without Pete’s permission.”

“It was dirty and underhanded. And I’ve never felt better about anything in my life,” Mr. Tomlin said, surprising Grace.

The Chihuahua in his hands barked in agreement.

Grace’s body tensed. “Pete Sawyer is a good man.”

“He stole my girlfriend, then married her. Then he let her die. I bought his boat fair and square, and I’m keeping it.”

Grace took a breath. “My mother sold a lot of things of Beatrice’s. It led to the breakdown of her marriage.”

“Not my problem.”

Grace swallowed and continued. “My mother is sick now. She has a lot of regrets. I was hoping you’d understand what it means to regret something.”

Mr. Tomlin eyed her coldly.

“I want to help her resolve some of those regrets. That’s why I want to buy that boat back for the Sawyer family.”

“Not for—”

Grace held up her hand. “Everything has a price, Mr. Tomlin.”

“You can’t buy back a man’s pride, and that’s what Pete took from me. I finished up my senior year in high school watching the girl I love kissing Pete in the corner. It hurt like hell. Now,” Mr. Tomlin stood up, “your five minutes are up, sweetheart.”

Grace stayed rooted on the couch for a moment longer, unable to believe that this was the result of her visit. Finally, she stood, no arguments left in her, and headed back to his front door.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Mr. Tomlin said, with only the slightest fragment of sincerity.

Grace turned and added one more thing. “What if I paid you twenty thousand dollars for that boat?”

Mr. Tomlin’s eyes widened just a touch. “It’s not worth but half that.”

“It is to me.” It would take all the tournament’s winnings. But it’d be worth it. “I’m in a fishing tournament next weekend. If I win, that’s how much I bring home. It’s all yours.”

“If you win.” Mr. Tomlin laughed. “Well, if you do, come talk to me then.”

There was a little hope threaded in those words. And judging by the light behind Mr. Tomlin’s eyes when she’d mentioned the money, she doubted he’d refuse to sell the boat after she did in fact win that tournament.

“I will,” she said, heading down the steps and back to her car.