She pressed a hand to her chest, recallingher father’s sweet gestures. Would she ever stop missing him?Chantelle straightened in her seat as Douglas entered the kitchen.He walked to the stainless steel refrigerator and poured himself aglass of milk. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted her.
“I didn’t see you there. Everything okay?” Heasked.
Chantelle bobbed her head. “I couldn’tsleep.” She held up her cup. “I thought some tea might help.”Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “What brings youhere?”
“I couldn’t help myself.” He grabbed thecovered cake plate on the counter. “Your mother’s yellow cake wascalling my name.” He winked at Chantelle. “I waited until she fellasleep.”
A giggle escaped her lips. “That chocolatefrosting makes it that much better.”
“Your mother is a genius in the kitchen.”Douglas cut himself a piece, grabbed a fork, and then brought hisplate over to the table, taking a seat across from Chantelle.
“You want to share?” He asked.
She gave a faint smile but shook her head.“No, thank you. I should go to bed.”
“Something on your mind?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. Was she thattransparent? “Work is work.”
“Your mother’s proud of you.” He made eyecontact with her. “So am I.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed the rest of herhot tea and scooted her chair away from the table. “I appreciateit, Douglas.”
He smiled, and the corner of his eyescrinkled. “I’m glad you stayed with us.”
Staying with her new stepfather whileretaining the memories of her father proved harder than she knew.Chantelle thought of staying in the bed-and-breakfast in town, butshe wouldn’t disappoint her mother.
“Chantelle?”
She stood in front of the sink as she washedher cup and spoon. “I guess…”
“Guess what?”
“It brings back so many memories. Being backhome. This is the longest I’ve stayed in this house since my dad…”It was true. The times she’d visited before were only for theweekends.
Chantelle heard Douglas’ chair scrape thefloor as he came over to her. “I can’t imagine what you’re feelingright now.”
A tsk noise escaped her mouth.“Everyone keeps saying that. They’ve been saying it since thefuneral.”
Douglas continued. “I don’t want to replacehim, but you know I love your mother. Right?”
Chantelle turned off the water and dried herhands. Douglas was telling the truth. She knew that much. Shelooked up at him, folding her arms over her chest. “I know you do,but having you here is… different.”
He bobbed his head. “I understand.”
“I promise I’m getting better.” She stared atthe table where she and her father used to talk all the time as agirl. She’d never forget the conversation, asking him when a personknew they were in love. “Sometimes it’s as if it happenedyesterday.”
Douglas held out his hand to her. Chantelleplaced hers in his. They both turned their backs and leaned againstthe counter facing the window. Streams of moonlight peaked throughthe small curtains.
“Losing a parent is never easy,” he said.
Chantelle looked over at him. “Mom told meyou lost your mother right after you two met.”
Douglas nodded. “It was the worst pain I hadfelt in a long time.” Then he looked over at her. “Being with yourmother helped me.”
Chantelle smiled. “She’s the best.”
Douglas paused. Did he want to say more?
She squinted her eyes at him. “Did my momgive you the rundown on me and Lance?”
“She shared a few things with me, but I neverpressed for details.” He looked over at her. “I figured if youwanted me to know, you’d tell me yourself.”
To her surprise, she didn’t let go of hersted-dad’s hand. Somehow it brought solace. “Let’s just say... wewere young. We’re older now, and hopefully the wiser for it.”
Douglas chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re beyond your years, Chantelle. Fewpeople your age think like that.”
She shrugged. “I know. Not too many peopleunderstand me.” Lance did, but that was a long time ago.
“Sometimes, all you need is one,” Douglassaid.
“What is going on in here?” Chantelle’smother asked with her hands on her hips. “Douglas, have you been inmy cake?”
His mouth fell open since the evidence was onthe table.
“On that note,” Chantelle said. “Good night,everyone.” She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling hergiggles as she hurried to her bedroom.
Chapter 17
“Thanks Dottie.” Lance handed her his suitjacket and tie.
“I have lunch prepared in the kitchen foryou. I would take a good nap too. You look tired.”
He smiled and walked into his kitchen. Hismouth watered at the turkey sandwich on the island. Settling intoone of the bar stools, he bit into the soft bread. He moaned insatisfaction, and the gnawing in his stomach ceased once heswallowed. Then his cell rang. He dug into his back pocket andanswered.
“What’s up?” He put the person on speakerphone.
“How was your trip?” Grant asked.
“Nothing much. I have to close this dealwhether or not I like it.”
“What's holding it up?”
“People losing their jobs. You know I don’tlike that. People work hard for what they have.”
“Says the man that grew up with money.” Grantchuckled.
Lance didn’t laugh.
“Sorry, man,” he said. “Only a joke.”
“Don’t.”
“Lance? What’s up? Is this getting too muchfor you?”
He rubbed at his eyebrow. “Sorry, I guess itis. Andrea and I don’t seem to agree much either.”
“She’s not back yet?”
“No. You know her modeling gigs keep herbusy, but she’s working on it. I’m trying to get her downhere.”
“You need a guys’ night out. I’m calling Peteand Craig.”
“Grant—”
“Think of it as your ‘pre-bachelor party.’It’ll be fun, and since Pete owns the bar in town, the drinks willbe on him.”
Lance chuckled at his friend. Once he hungup, he headed for the shower to wash away the flight. Changing intojeans and a t-shirt, he walked back to his room. He didn’t have togo into the office today. Staring around his bedroom, he spottedhis laptop on his desk.
He could read over the contracts, but hepinched the bridge of his nose as the clock ticked on the wall. Nowork today. So, Lance changed into his gym clothes, grabbed hisphone and keys, and headed out the door.
Driving to the community center, he tappedhis
