Chapter Nineteen

Beck stood at the stove, a spatula in one hand, the last letter from Sully in the other. This one had no postmark on the envelope, just Beck’s name scrawled on the front. Based on the date at the top, Sully had written it the day before he’d passed.

As he read the last line, Beck swallowed the lump of unexpected emotion that rose in his throat. His grandfather was nothing like he’d expected, nothing like his father had led him to believe. At least not if the words filling the dozens of letters were true.

It was all there, laid out in the black scrawl of his grandfather’s hand, and over the past week, Beck had read every line. The early letters talked about how sorry he was about what had happened between him and Holiday. From what Beck gathered, Sully hadn’t thrown his dad out on his butt. Instead, it seemed like Holiday had ratcheted out of control to the point where Sully didn’t have a choice but to try some tough love to snap some sense into him.

The biggest revelation by far had been the fact that Holiday had stolen money from his own father’s safety deposit box right before he left town. As the years passed, the pleas in the letters stayed the same. Sully offered forgiveness and a fresh start. But it appeared all of his letters went unopened and unanswered.

Beck tucked the last letter back into the envelope. How could his grandfather paint such a different picture of history than the one his own dad had shared? Sully was long gone and couldn’t fill in the gaps. Every time Beck tried to ask someone around town about it, they talked in circles and finally told him it wasn’t their story to share.

He didn’t have a choice. He’d need to force his dad to face the past if he wanted to get answers and fill in the blanks. And he had to do that before he’d feel comfortable signing that paperwork Holiday needed. Beck would insist they add some sort of clause that would ensure everyone would keep their jobs. Especially Charlie. More than once he’d wanted to tell her about the deal he’d made. But he wouldn’t break his word to his dad. He couldn’t agree to terms unless Holiday gave him the go-ahead to be up front with her. She deserved to know.

“Good morning.” Charlie padded out of the bedroom.

He turned toward her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“No. When are you going to start making this place your own?”

He hadn’t made any changes to Sully’s place yet—hadn’t even fully unpacked. He’d been living out of his suitcase and bought a queen-size air mattress rather than sleep in either Sully’s or his dad’s old beds.

“I’m working on it, okay?” He focused his attention on the scrambled eggs in the pan.

Charlie rubbed her hand over his back. The tension melted away under her touch. “You need some help?”

“Just finishing up the eggs.” He reached around her to grab two plates from the cabinet. “I’ve been reading those letters. The things he talks about, the stuff he says, it’s nothing like what my dad led me to believe.”

“I’m sorry. This has to be hard for you.” Her arm went around his waist.

Just feeling the warmth of her against him made everything better. “I need to talk to my dad about it.”

“You want to call him?”

“No.” He glanced down, hoping his smile conveyed an acceptable apology under the scruff covering his lips. “Sorry, it’s not you. I need to talk to him in person. That way I can get a read on him. He’d be too evasive on the phone.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay. Whatever you need to do.”

“Now how about some eggs? I promised you breakfast, right?” Beck scraped the spatula along the bottom of the pan.

She leaned against the counter. “That’s right. What’s that white stuff on top?”

“Feta cheese. I made them Greek style. Tomatoes, a little bit of cheese.”

“Pretty fancy, Manhattan.”

“Nothing but the best for you.” He flipped the eggs onto a plate.

Charlie took it from him and sat down at the small table. He joined her, so close that their knees bumped together underneath.

“What do you think?”

She slid a forkful into her mouth, her expression not giving anything away. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“Interesting good or interesting bad?”

Grinning, she scooped up another bite. “Let’s just say you could give Angelo a run for his money in the kitchen during brunch.”

“Really?”

She nodded, her mouth too full to speak.

He didn’t know why the fact she liked how he’d made her eggs made him smile so hard his cheeks hurt. But he did know that everything in Holiday had been better since he and Charlie had gotten together. In fact, everything in general had been better with her by his side.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he began, not sure how to best to broach the topic he wanted to bring up.

“Uh-oh. What happened, did it make your head hurt?” She set down her fork long enough to take a sip of coffee.

“Can you be serious for a second?” He loved the way she could fire back at him, and usually he enjoyed the banter. But this morning called for a serious conversation.

Her brow crinkled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wondered if you’d be able to do something for me. A favor.”

“Of course.” The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened. “Is everything okay?”

He swallowed. Here goes nothing. “Yeah. I told you I need to talk to my dad about Sully.”

“Right.” She put her hand on his arm. “I think that’s a great idea. You need answers, and he’s the only one left who can give them to you. What do you need from me? Want me to take care of things while you’re gone?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I want you to go with me.” Charlie’s hand fell from his arm. She stared at her plate, the sympathetic smile gone from her eyes. He edged his chair closer to hers. “I know it’s asking a lot, but it would be so much easier if I had someone with me who had my back. Someone I can trust.”

She gave a slight shake of the head. “New York. You want me to go to New York with you?”

“Just for a couple of days. I’ll talk to my dad; you can see the Statue of Liberty. We’ll do the whole tourist thing.”

“You know how I feel about leaving Holiday.” She played with her fork, turning it over and over in her fingers.

He wanted to erase the sadness and doubt in her eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll give us a chance to be together, alone, away from everything and everyone. A chance to focus on us for a few days.”

“Us.”

“Yes”—he put a finger under her chin, nudging it up so he could read her eyes—“us.”

“I do like the sound of us.” The edges of her lips lifted just a bit.

“So you’ll go?”

“You really need me?”

Sensing a breach in her resistance, he pushed. “Yes. I do. I really, really do.”

“Let me think about it,” she whispered, barely loudly enough for him to hear.

At least she hadn’t said no. “Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap. “It’ll be a great time. A weekend you won’t ever forget.”

With Charlie by his side, he’d have the support he needed to confront his dad once and for all. She’d get to know him on his turf, and he could introduce her to the things he loved like that Korean barbecue joint and that Brooklyn beer he’d tried to bring to Texas.

“I’ve always wanted to see the Empire State Building.”

“We could go next month. I’m supposed to accept an award for my dad at a picnic in the Hamptons while he’s on that cruise. We could fly in right before he leaves so I can talk to him, then we’d have the whole town to ourselves for the weekend.”

Charlie nodded, considering his offer. “Maybe.”

“Probably?” He dipped her back to kiss along her jaw.

“Don’t rush me, Manhattan.”

He’d take what he could get for now. He had a few weeks yet to convince her. “I’m not planning on doing any kind of rushing. But if you hurry up and gobble down those eggs, I figure we’ve got a good thirty minutes before we have to leave for the Rose.”

“Well, I suppose it’s okay to rush some things.”

He dipped a finger under the neckline of the T-shirt she’d slept in, hopefully erasing any doubt about what he hoped to do with that extra half hour.

She scarfed down the last couple bites of eggs, then hopped off his lap and held out her hand. “Coming?”

“Give me five minutes and hopefully we both will.”

She squealed as he grabbed for her waist. Missing by a fraction of an inch, he stood, ready to chase her down and do his best to turn that maybe to a probably and finally a yes.