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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

The sun baked my bare arms and legs as I slogged through the sand. Walking would be easier where the waves kept the sand packed firm, but easy wasn't my aim.

I was in my favorite place -- Myrtle Beach, Oregon -- for the first time in twenty years. I had nothing to do but enjoy myself for the next couple of weeks. And walking on the beach was a big part of what I intended to do. I was in heaven, except for the niggle in the pit of my stomach.

The niggle said that I had no business being here, spending money at a fancy oceanfront B&B when I didn't have a job. It said that Barry, Gian, and the other guys laid off when I was were home frantically combing through want-ads and polishing their resumes. I should be doing the same.

The niggle was crazy. At thirty-eight, with no dependents, and after nearly eighteen years of moving steadily upward in the software field, I could afford a vacation. More than that, I needed a break from the constant pressure and deadlines. And maybe it sounds like bragging, but I knew there'd be jobs waiting for me after my vacation. So, I dismissed the niggle, and wallowed in the beauty of the day.

And then the day got even better. Up ahead and a little closer to the water, I saw a woman. A beautiful woman. A woman I felt compelled to meet.

I caught up to her in seconds, so quickly that I barely had a chance to enjoy the rhythmic swaying of her hips as she walked, and the slightly different rhythm of the long brown braid that trailed down her back. A thousand possible uses for that braid burst in my brain at once. I could pull on it to annoy her -- or use it caveman-style to drag her off to my lair.

Since my current lair was a bedroom in a B&B and this was the twenty-first century, I opted for a more civilized approach. "Great day, isn't it?" Okay -- that was hardly the most brilliant opening line ever imagined, but it got the job done.

She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then turned her whole head toward me and smiled. "It sure is. It hasn't been this warm since Labor Day." She kept walking at the same speed, and I walked along with her.

Labor Day had been two weeks ago. "You've been here a while, then," I commented.

"Uh-huh."

Okay. That hadn't been worded as a question, so I wouldn't assume anything from her non-answer. I strained my peripheral vision to check whether her front view was as tempting as the rear view had been. Her bathing suit was full of red and blue swirls and she had a towel knotted around her waist. With each step, one long leg peeked out from under the towel. Yes, the front view was very nice.

I looked up at her face and found her watching me with what seemed like amusement. "You have a great tan," I said, expecting the smile to vanish.

"I'm so glad you approve," she said. Her eyes told me that she was giving me a break this time, but that once was her limit. I'd either watch my step or be out of luck in the future.

I'd watch my step. She was the first woman I'd been attracted to in at least six months, and I wasn't willing to have it end before it even got started. "By the way, I'm Ric, and I just got into town last night."

"Hi, Ric. I'm Kristi."

"Kristi's a nice name," I said. It was slightly exotic, but basically down- to-earth, a lot like how she appeared. She had delicate features and almond- shaped eyes, with flecks of gold visible within a darker brown. "I'm staying down the beach a ways at a B&B." I gestured behind me.

"Martha's Madness?" she asked.

"Yeah. Do you know it?" Could she possibly be staying there, too?

She nodded. "Sure. Brittany's a friend." Brittany was the owner, and she appeared to be somewhere around Kristi's age. My age, too. "I'm a local," she explained, then suddenly made a face. "And I just realized I've got to head back. I have to work."

It crossed my mind to wonder about her excuse, but she was obviously sincere. "That's too bad." Well, this was the moment of truth. "I'll be in town for a couple of weeks. Can I see you again?"

She laughed. "Myrtle Beach isn't big enough that we're likely to miss each other for that long." But then she smiled right at me and added, "I'm here on the beach every morning."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," I told her.

And I would see her, even if I had to search the entire stretch of beach.

My stomach tightened as I reached for the door of the restaurant. Except why would I be nervous? Nash's had practically been my home twenty years ago, and one of the reasons I'd chosen Myrtle Beach for this impromptu vacation was that I'd wanted to come here.

I pushed aside the nerves -- or maybe it was hunger -- and stepped inside. It looked almost exactly like I remembered it. Tables up front and booths further back, across from the kitchen, and in the very back, a small but well- stocked bar. I wasn't good with décor, so maybe that had changed over the years, but if it had, I thought it was only slightly.

The waitress approached me -- obviously Trish, but just as clearly, the years hadn't been particularly kind to her. "Welcome to Nash's, sir. Would you like smoking or --"

There was a change. We hadn't had a non-smoking section before. I stopped her before she could finish. "Non-smoking, Trish, thank you."

As she picked up a menu, I saw her trying to figure out how I knew her name. I decided to make it a little easier. "I haven't smoked in twenty years -- not since you used to sneak me cigarettes for my break." And I'd hardly smoked those. I'd take a couple of puffs, then hold it between my thumb and forefinger while the rest burned down. Smoking had simply been an easy way to pretend I was as grownup as Trish. I'm not sure why I'd thought an unmarried teenage mother with a voracious appetite for men was an appropriate role model.

Her smile made her look years younger. "Ric? Ric Delmore? I can't believe it!" She planted a big kiss on my cheek and slipped her arm around my waist familiarly. "You turned out to be a real hunk. I shouldn't have let you go."

I was far from being a hunk, and she hadn't ever had me -- contrary to my dreams back then, when I'd been desperate to shed my virginity. But she'd treated me like her little brother, and when I finally got up enough nerve to ask her to meet me on the deserted stretch of beach where she met her boyfriends, she'd laughed at me. "You're practically a baby."

It had been for the best, I knew that now. At the time I'd been both hurt and embarrassed, and I'd never felt really comfortable with her again. Now, having her arm around me and her lush breasts pressing into me felt vaguely dirty. I ignored the invitation and said, "I'm in town for a few days, so I thought I'd come by, say hi, and have a good dinner. Are Walt and Olivia still running the place?"

She appeared amused at my lack of response, but simply shrugged and started leading me toward the booths. "Walt's here. I'll put you back here where he can visit with you." She slapped the menu onto the table and gave my butt a squeeze as she called, "Walt!"

He appeared in the swinging kitchen door a few seconds later. "What is it, Trish?" She'd headed toward the front of the restaurant, though, and didn't answer. He looked around with a bit of a frown, then caught sight of me. His broad face lit up. "Ric! I never thought I'd see you again!" He crossed the aisle in two big steps and wrapped me in a bear hug. He released me suddenly and demanded, "What are you doing here, boy? And why hasn't Trish poured you a glass of my special wine?" He raised his voice and barked at her. "Bring us the bottle, Trish -- and two glasses." He shoved me in the direction of one of the booth's bench seats and lowered himself gingerly into the other side.

"It's good to see you again." I was suddenly embarrassed that I'd never bothered to come before -- it wasn't like I'd been far away. This part of the Oregon Coast was less than two hours from the west-side of Portland where I'd spent most of the last twenty years. I was getting worried about Olivia, too. Why wasn't she here with Walt? I hated to think that she might have died, and was afraid to ask.

Trish appeared then with a bottle that looked slightly dusty and one glass, which she put in front of me. When Walt opened his mouth, she said, "Don't give me any of that, Walter Nash. Olivia'd skin me alive if I served you any alcohol." She poured wine into the single glass and shook her finger at Walt. "And don't you dare get your own glass. I'm going to call Olivia now, and you know as well as I do that she'll run right over to see her fair-haired boy."

Since when was I anyone's fair-haired boy? Then again, with Trish, all that meant was that she still nursed a grudge over her belief that Walt and Olivia were playing favorites during those summers long ago. I'd needed their influence as parent substitutes as much as I'd needed their on-the-job supervision. They'd been happy to provide both.

Walt rolled his eyes at Trish. "I swear you like bossing me around more than Livvie does. You tell Kristina to come out here while you're in the kitchen, okay?"

"Kristina's in the kitchen?" I asked, more surprised than probably made sense. Kristina was Walt and Olivia's daughter, and almost literally born into the restaurant business. She'd been a year behind me in school, and had already been so serious about a career as a chef that she'd been away learning the business both summers that I'd worked here. Why wouldn't she be back here cooking?

Walt pressed his lips together and nodded. "Since spring. Livvie can't spend much time on her feet anymore." He seemed to be getting ready to add something, but just then the kitchen door swung open.

My mouth fell open. "Kristi!" The woman on the beach this noon had been Walt and Olivia's daughter!

She smiled warmly. "Hi, Ric. You know my dad?"

Walt wasn't one to let the conversation pass him by. "Of course he does, sweetie. This is Ric Delmore -- you've heard me talk about him. But how do you two know each other?"

I glanced at Walt and answered. "We met on the beach earlier today." When I looked back at Kristi, her expression was totally closed and all remnants of her smile were gone.

She turned to Walt, ignoring me. "Yes, I remember hearing about Ric." Like I was a serial murderer they'd warned her to avoid. "Dad, I've got to get back. I'm in the middle of some orders."

He didn't appear to notice her sudden attitude change. "Okay, sweetie. But come out whenever you've got a few minutes. You and Ric should get to know each other." I could tell the idea excited her no end.

After she disappeared back into the kitchen, all I wanted to do was figure out why she'd suddenly done an about-face on me. It wasn't my imagination that she'd been happy to see me just a minute ago -- nor that now she wished I'd never been born.

Walt said, "So, Ric, what are you doing in town? And don't tell me you don't have a wife and kids by now!"

Well, so much for having a chance to think! I smiled at the question I'd think was intrusive from anyone else. "I'm here on vacation. And sorry, I'm not married." That seemed too brief an answer, so I filled him in on the last twenty years. "I majored in computer science at the U of O, like I'd planned, and since then, I've been working at a couple of high-tech places right outside Portland. I've been a project lead for the last six or eight years."

He nodded. That had been my career plan when I worked here, and he'd always believed I'd make it. Now came the part I'd just as soon leave out. Except this was Walt, and I'd always been able to talk to him. "And as of this past Thursday, I'm unemployed. My project was canned and I could either scramble for a new job inside the company or get a nice buyout package. I took the package." Simply saying the words made my insides feel a little shaky.

Not as shaky as they seemed to make Walt, though. He just sat there, stock-still, not even seeming to breathe. I manufactured a grin and said, "Hey, it's not that serious. I can get a new job with a couple of phone calls. I just figured I'd take a short vacation first, to decompress after the months of hard work." That didn't seem to reassure him, so I added, "This happens all the time in the software business. It's not a big deal."

Still looking grim and now somewhat pale, he muttered, "It's not you," and fumbled for something in his pocket. He brought out a small metal tube, about the size of a lip balm, and opened it laboriously.

There was something wrong with him! Had I done the same with him as I'd done with Dad -- waited too long to really get to know him?

I couldn't stand it if I had. I stood up.

Chapter Two

I had to do something! "Should I get Kristi?"

He shook his head and started working on the small glass bottle inside the tube. Finally, he took out a tiny pill and put it in his mouth. He relaxed a bit and said, "I'll be okay in a minute."

But the minute stretched into several, and he still wore that pained expression. I wanted to abide by his wishes, but I also knew that I would have wanted to know if my father was suffering like that. I finally sat down, not knowing what else to do.

I hadn't known about Dad's heart problems, though. I'd been too damn busy to keep in touch. My first inkling of a problem was way too late, and I'd never even had a chance to say goodbye.

But that was my problem. This was Walt, and Kristi was right here. She'd want to know. Just as he opened the bottle again and got out a second pill, Trish appeared at the end of the table, looking worried. "Your heart?" she asked Walt. When he nodded, she asked me, "Is this his first pill?"

I shook my head. "He had one a few minutes ago. Can he take another this soon?"

"He can take up to three, spaced five minutes apart," she answered, her attention focused on Walt. "I'll tell Kristina." She headed into the kitchen.

I felt worse than useless. All I could do was sit there and hope that he got better. Kristi burst through the kitchen door. "Dad!" She stopped a step away from the table, and I realized that she didn't know what to do, either. "It isn't any better, is it?"

Walt shook his head. His normal ruddy skin resembled the restaurant's famous clam chowder, and watching him made me glad I hadn't eaten.

Kristi took a couple of deep breaths and steadied herself. "I'll help you out to the car, Dad. We need to get you to the hospital."

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, then managed, "Your mother."

"Trish'll call her and she'll meet us down there," she answered calmly, but I saw panic in her eyes. She bent to help him up. I stood up to help her.

"Trish said your mom was on her way down here," I told her, omitting the reason.

Just then, Trish and Olivia appeared behind Kristi in the doorway, and Olivia pushed her way to Walt's side. I stepped away from the private moment. Kristi said quietly to Trish, "I'm sorry to dump everything on you, but I have to go."

Trish gave her arm a squeeze and said, "Of course you do. I'll call Sammy to come over and help. I think he's home tonight."

I spoke up. "I'll help. I still remember how to wait tables."

Trish smiled at me gratefully. "You wouldn't mind?"

But Kristi scowled. "What do you think this is? Amateur night?"

I took the insult, assuming she was upset and not thinking straight. "No. I think you're in a fix and I'd like to help."

Olivia suddenly joined in the conversation. "That's a very nice offer, Ric, and one that we'll gratefully accept." She gave Kristi a no-nonsense look and added, "We all will."

I was willing to bet it had been years since Kristi had heard that particular tone of voice from her mother, but she didn't argue. She simply turned toward the kitchen and said to Trish, "Come on. I'll show you what's up."

I stayed where I was, knowing I should stay away from Kristi for the time being, yet not really wanting to be a witness to the always-strong-in-my- memory Walt in the throes of what I guessed was a heart attack.

I averted my gaze and thought instead about the layout of the restaurant and the basics of waiting on customers. I heard the bell ding that indicated an order was ready to be served, but it didn't dawn on me that I was the one who had to serve it until Kristi snapped, "Kitchen, Ric!"

I stepped up to the small window where two plates sat under heat lamps, but as I reached for them, she said, "I said 'kitchen'!"

I pushed through the swinging door. "Sorry. I'll serve those orders now."

She glared at me. "You'll serve those orders when I say so, and not before! You may not remember, but Nash's has standards for how we treat our customers, and I'm not having you waltz in here acting like you're doing us a huge favor, and then make us look bad! Put this on --" She threw a wadded-up apron at my chest and I fumbled into it. "Now, get your ass the hell out there and serve those dinners before they get cold!"

I actually thought she was going to shove me back through the door, and I decided that I wasn't going to take it. How I was going to do that without walking out on my promise to Walt and Olivia, I didn't know. Luckily, she stayed away from me, so it didn't come to that. As I picked up the dinners, Trish said, "Table 7, and the guy gets the seafood platter."

Table 7 -- okay, that was the seventh table from the front of the restaurant. I started toward the front, aware that Olivia was helping Walt into the kitchen behind me. I was too stunned to feel nervous. The plates made a clunking noise as I set them down. I remembered Walt coaching me to make every motion deliberate yet graceful.

I took two steps away from the table -- toward escape -- before I remembered to ask the patrons if they would like anything else right now. It was coming back to me. Like riding a bicycle. The man said, "You could tell us what's going on. Is something wrong with Walt?"

Well, there was a dilemma. I didn't feel right blabbing about Walt's apparent health problems to a random stranger, yet how could I refuse without seeming rude? The woman smiled in sympathy. "I understand. You're not sure how much you should say. It might make you more comfortable to know that we're regulars, and we've known Walt and Olivia since they opened this place."

I took a more serious look at the couple and realized that I actually recognized them as people I'd waited on often when I worked here those summers. "Well, I don't know the situation for sure myself, but Walt was having a lot of chest pain, and now Olivia and Kristina have taken him to the hospital."

The lady grimaced and shook her head. "You know, I've been worried about him recently. He hasn't seemed his normal self."

Her husband nodded his agreement, then said to me, "And you got drafted to help out. Are you one of Kristina's friends from her last restaurant?"

I shook my head, amused despite myself at the question. No, there was no question of me being Kristi's friend any longer. "No. I just happened to be here tonight, and since I worked here for Walt and Olivia when I was in high school, I volunteered."

I didn't care to field any questions about how long ago those high school days had been, so I said, "Well, I'll leave you to your dinners. Be sure to let me know if there's anything more I can get for you."

I headed back to the kitchen, to get a briefing from Trish about which tables were likely to need what and how soon. I had a job to do.

I might have slept later on Monday if I hadn't been so hungry. My relaxing dinner at Nash's had turned into a couple of hours of waiting tables followed by another hour of closing. I'd inhaled a bowl of chowder during a slow period, but that wasn't enough to last all night.

Still, I lingered in bed as long as I could stand it, listening to the surf and watching the gulls swooping outside my second-floor window. Then I dressed quickly and went down to breakfast.

It turned out I was the only guest at the B&B this morning, so I suggested that Brittany join me at the table. She refilled her coffee and sat down. "Are you having a nice stay?"

I started to nod, but then I remembered last night and my appetite vanished. How was Walt? "I'm sorry -- I have make a call. I was at Nash's last night, and Walt was taken to the hospital --" I started out of the room before I realized I had no idea where there was a phone.

Brittany was right behind me. "There's a phone in the kitchen. What happened?" She slipped past me and held the swinging door open for me.

The phone was on the wall just inside the kitchen. As I fumbled through my pockets for Trish's number, I remembered that Brittany had asked a question. "Something to do with his heart --"

"Oh, no! Kristina's been worried -- he's needed those pills nearly every day. Did the paramedics come?"

There it was! I shook my head and punched in the number. "No. Kristi and Olivia drove him." Trish answered then.

Her news wasn't good, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, either. I hung up and looked at Brittany. "They've taken him to Portland for a test -- an angiogram, I think she said. Then they'll figure out what to do next. Maybe a bypass, maybe something else."

Brittany's expression was grim. "That's serious stuff." With a determinedly cheerful nod, she added, "But doctors are doing amazing things these days. And Walt's a real fighter."

That description made me smile. "That's for sure."

She put her hand on my elbow and urged me back toward the dining room. "Let's go sit down again." I must have grimaced when I saw my heaping plate of food, because she whisked it away before I sat down, then brought us both fresh cups of coffee. "I wouldn't normally ask, but you obviously know the Nashes and Trish. This isn't your first visit to Myrtle Beach, is it?"

I shook my head. "No. I worked at Nash's a couple of summers when I was in high school." Right at that moment, I recognized her. "You used to come in, didn't you? With an older couple -- maybe your grandparents?"

I saw recognition flicker in her eyes. "Oh. Yeah. I remember you." The admission seemed to embarrass her, and she quickly added, "That was my Aunt Martha and Uncle Harry that I was with. He built this house for her."

Now that I'd placed her, it seemed strange that I hadn't remembered her immediately. She was just as beautiful -- and as well-built -- as she'd been when I fantasized about her nightly. I smiled at how awkward and shy I'd been. "I'd have given anything back then to be sitting here having coffee with you, like I am now."

That startled her. "I didn't think you even noticed me!"

I shook my head. "That wasn't it, at all. I just wasn't good at talking to girls -- especially not ones as pretty as you."

She looked surprised again, as though she wasn't used to being called pretty, but I didn't see how that could be the case. Maybe the subject of teenage crushes seemed too personal between B&B proprietor and paying guest. That idea gained credence when she said, "I'll go warm a couple of cinnamon rolls for you. You should have at least a little breakfast." She took her mug and hurried away.

I had more than a little breakfast, thanks to Brittany's gentle urging. By the time I finished eating, I felt much more like my normal self. Walt's health was still a big worry, but at least he was getting the best care available. I tried to have faith that he'd be fine.

I started wondering how Nash's would function without him, and probably without Kristi for the next several days. Trish had said that Sammy would help out last night, but was his schedule free enough to work there indefinitely? Finally, I went back into the kitchen and called Trish again. When she answered, I said, "I've been thinking. With Walt and Kristi both out, you'll be pretty short-handed at the restaurant this week. I thought maybe you'll like some extra help."

"You?" she asked. "You'll be here that long?"

"Yeah. Probably a couple of weeks."

She laughed. "Your life must be pretty boring, if you think waiting tables is a vacation!" More seriously, she added, "In any case, we're closed tonight, and Sammy'll help me out until Kristina comes back."

I remembered Sammy as a just-barely-walking toddler, so he'd be an adult now. Thinking about him reminded me of his father. Joey and Trish had bashed heads way too many times to stay together, but they'd also had too much chemistry to stay apart for long. Had twenty years changed that any? For that matter, was Joey around anymore? I couldn't ask, though. "That's only two of you -- are you sure you don't need me, too?"

She snorted and I expected to hear a derisive comment about how Nash's had survived without me for twenty years. Instead, she sighed. "Maybe we will, I don't know yet. You'd better tell me where you're staying."

"I'm at Martha's Madness Bed & Breakfast -- I'm not sure what the number is."

"I can look it up." She laughed again. "So, what do you think about how your old girlfriend turned out?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. Knowing Trish, I doubted if she actually cared. My suspicion was confirmed when she said slyly, "Of course, she's married now and her husband looks to be the jealous type, so you'd better watch your step." Her slightly malicious chuckle cut off suddenly and she said, "I'll call when I hear about Walt's test."

She hung up before I remembered to ask when the test would be.

Chapter Three

Trish called back later that day, but I was out enjoying the beach -- wearing a heavy sweatshirt this time, since it was much cooler than the day before. Brittany left a note about the call taped to my door, but Trish must have gone out for the evening before I got back. We finally connected on Tuesday morning.

She'd talked to Olivia late on Monday afternoon. Walt's test wasn't until morning, so they didn't know yet how long he and Kristina would need to be away from the restaurant. It would be great if I wanted to help out for the next few days, but I shouldn't feel obligated. I told Trish that it wasn't an issue of feeling obligated. It was simply something I wanted to do. Finally, we agreed that I'd work at least the next several evenings. Right after we hung up, I headed down to Tillamook for the black slacks and white shirt that, along with a full-length red apron, would serve as my uniform.

By the time I got to work that afternoon, Trish had talked to Olivia again. The angiogram had shown several places where the coronary arteries were almost completely blocked, and Walt was scheduled for heart-bypass surgery on Wednesday morning. The surgery would take most of the morning, and if all went well, he'd be able to move out of cardiac intensive care by the weekend. Trish's eyes were red, so I knew she was just as shaken by the news as I was.

I worked a full shift that day as well as the next two. Trish and Sammy did, too. Nash's was a fairly small dinner-only restaurant, so the hours and work were manageable, but we were all tired by closing, and I wasn't sure my feet would ever stop hurting. Trish handled the kitchen, Sammy and I alternated as host, and we both waited tables. As customers ordered drinks, Sammy taught me how to tend bar.

Every afternoon, Trish got a brief update by phone from Olivia. On Wednesday, we were relieved to hear that Walt's surgery had gone well. He was conscious and making good progress by mid-afternoon Thursday, and Olivia said that Kristi would probably return on Friday.

She did, arriving just after I did. She breezed into the restaurant and took over, her negative attitude toward me intact. She talked directly to Trish and Sammy, first updating them on Walt's condition -- he'd been moved from cardiac intensive care to the regular heart floor that morning and would probably be coming home by the middle of the next week -- then telling them how grateful they all were for how they'd kept the restaurant running all week.

What was the woman's problem, anyway? I'd been nearly as involved in keeping things running as Trish -- and certainly more than Sammy. At least, I'd given up part of my long-overdue vacation to help out, whereas Sammy had no job to be on a vacation from. He'd told me that he sometimes went out fishing with his dad, and was thinking about signing up for a car repair class so he could get a job as a mechanic. A real go-getter kind of guy, alright, and his attitude on the job showed it.

I was careful not to show that Kristi's tactics were bugging me, but I didn't need to worry -- Trish was an inveterate defender of the underdog. She said, "The one you really ought to be thanking is Ric. He's been running his legs off all week."

Kristi didn't like being talked to that way, but she apparently didn't want to cause a scene, either. She gave me a brief nod and said, "Of course. I meant that we appreciate what all of you have been doing." Having taken care of that unpleasant task, she launched into business. "I'll be back in the kitchen from now on. We won't have any specials tonight, but I'll get some planned for tomorrow. Trish, you'll be hostess, and Sammy, if you can help us out on weekends for a while, that'd be great."

"What about me?" I asked, wondering how she'd manage to tell me to drop dead without sounding like a royal bitch.

Her right shoulder came up and her head tilted back so she could look down her nose. "As I said, we appreciate everything you've done, but you're in town only briefly. The three of us will manage from now on."

Trish's eyes flared with the anger I wouldn't allow myself to express. "Maybe you'll manage just fine, Kristina, but what about Sammy and me? Do you expect us to give up our days off just because you're too much of a snob to accept help when it's offered?"

Kristi glared at Trish, but Trish was never one to back down from a confrontation -- unless it was with a lover, and then she turned into a regular doormat. Finally, Kristi sighed. "Oh, all right. As long as Ric's in town, he can sub for you. And I guess we'd better run an ad for more part-time help."

Trish said, "I usually have Thursdays off. Since I missed that this week, I'll take tonight off. How about you, Sammy? What night do you want off?"

He hadn't seemed to be listening to the conversation, but the question perked him up. "Saturday, definitely. Me and the guys've got a card game lined up -- and for once, I'll have some moola." He fixed his gaze on Kristi then and asked, "You are going to pay us tonight, aren't you?"

Sammy's question earned him the same look of distaste I got whenever Kristi absolutely had to look at me. "You'll have to start prepping the kitchen for me, Trish. I don't have time to do both." She started toward the small office, then paused. "Tell me, Ric -- what princely wage are we paying you? Enough to make the car payment on that tribute to testosterone?"

I'd had enough of her attitude. "You're not paying me a damn cent, Kristi. I've been helping out all week because I care about your parents. I knew they needed to feel confident that the restaurant was in good hands while they were away. But you're back now, so I don't have to worry about that anymore. You obviously wish I'd leave you the hell alone -- and that's exactly what I'm going to do." I headed to the door, and as I passed Trish, I asked her, "Want to come with? Dinner and drinks are on me."

I didn't slow down to see what she'd decide. I knew Trish. Her loyalty to Walt and Olivia was too strong to let her walk out on their daughter.

I pouted all evening. I know it's not masculine to admit something like that, but it's the truth. I sat out on the deck at the B&B, nursed the two beers I'd picked up at the grocery, and felt sorry for myself.

Part of the problem was that Brittany's husband, Tony, was home tonight, and the love they felt for each other was apparent in every word or laugh they shared. I don't mean that I was eavesdropping on them, and they weren't doing anything intimate like making love. I was simply outside on the deck, and they were inside in the living room and dining room. I couldn't help but hear them.

It wasn't their fault they had each other, and that I was alone. It was mine, and I didn't know how to change things. Maybe I'd always be this way.

Saturday morning wasn't as idyllic as my other mornings at the B&B had been. That was partly due to my mood from last night, but also because this was the weekend and all the guest-rooms were full. Instead of waves crashing, I heard showers running, and instead of birds cawing, groups of people congregated in the hall by my door.

I waited until the noise died down to venture downstairs, and was pleased to see that the dining room was empty and the buffet full. I hadn't eaten last night and I was hungry.

I went outside when I finished eating, half-wondering if I ought to give up on this vacation and get back to the real world. There was no point in being out here if I wasn't going to enjoy it, and between Walt's illness and Kristi's attitude, I wasn't having much fun. I should cut my losses here and get busy on the rest of my life.

That was before I saw Kristi sitting on the deck next to Brittany, tears flowing down her face. I instantly forgot the previous night. "What happened?" I dropped down in front of her, not daring to ask what I was most afraid of.

She simply stiffened and swiped away the tears, and Brittany was the one who answered. "Kristina's had a tough week. She just needs a chance to let it all out." She looked at me like she hoped I'd take the hint and leave them alone.

I couldn't do that, not until I was sure. "Walt's okay, then?"

Kristi glared at me through her tears. "Oh, sure! They chopped open his chest the other day, and the incision looks like something Frankenstein would have. And he's got a big incision on his leg, too, where they got the vein they used in his heart. And now they're making him get up and walk every couple of hours, and he can barely make it to the door of his room. But he's just ducky, so you can turn around and walk right out of his life again, just like you did twenty years ago." An involuntary sob stopped her, but she pushed it back in order to demand, "Do you have any idea how many times he told me how he wished you'd call?"

I was glad I was already sitting, because my legs wouldn't have continued to hold me right then. "I --" I what? "I should have. I know that. But I've been busy --I didn't know..." The excuse was weak, and I knew it. I'd done the same thing with Walt that I'd done with my own father. I'd waited until it was convenient to spend time with him and really get to know him. It was too late for my dad now, and it had almost been too late for Walt.

Maybe she was right to throw my behavior in my face like that, but I didn't have to like it, and it didn't take away the rude way she'd treated me last night. "So what do you want, Kristi? You made it perfectly clear last night that you want me the hell out of Nash's -- how else am I supposed to make up for neglecting Walt all these years?"

The question seemed to surprise her. Maybe she hadn't thought I'd respond to her diatribe. While she looked at me blankly, Brittany got to her feet, saying, "I have to go check on the buffet. I'll be back in a few minutes."

And then we were alone. Finally, Kristi said, "Just don't disappear on him again. He's going to need all the support he can get."

I nodded, as casually as I could. That must not have been easy for her to ask. "Okay. I'd been figuring on hanging around another week. And after that, I'll just be in Portland so I can still visit." I felt the need to add, "I'm not going to let my career take over my life ever again."

She almost smiled at that. "Good luck." She looked down at the weathered planks of the deck, and I figured she was probably wishing I'd leave her alone. Instead, she pressed her lips together and sighed. "And since you're going to be around for a little while longer, maybe you -- could help out at the restaurant some. The place was jammed last night -- almost like a summer weekend -- and with the weather today, it'll be at least that busy tonight."

From her, that was the equivalent of an apology. I said, "Sure."

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