When she returned to the den to sit with Chris, he glanced up at her with concern on his face. “Everything okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Joanna replied. “Although I’m so curious about how she’s ended up in this condition, and who the father is.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “No, not yet. I’m giving her time to settle in and feel at home. We’re not particularly close. I love her to pieces, of course, but from her perspective, I’m the grandmother she only sees a couple of times per year at most, and I’ve hardly left the house in a decade. So, her only interactions with me have been over video calls and when her family came to visit. She wouldn’t remember much about living here, I don’t think.”

  “Has she got any friends in town?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t think so. She’s spent time with some of the local kids at the beach, but they don’t seem to be close,” Joanna replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because she’s sixteen. And that’s important—friends her own age.”

  “You’re probably right, everyone needs friends. But I can’t force it. She’ll get there. I know I’m grateful for my friends. They’ve been a lifeline to me so many times over the years.”

  “It’s one of the most endearing things about you,” Chris said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way you are with your friends. You’re so good to them, and they love you in return. I admire that.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “Your friendship means so much to me as well.”

  His eyes twinkled as he set three tiles on the board. “Whiz. That’s nineteen points. I’m going to win this round—I can feel it.” He rubbed his hands together. “You’re going down, JoJo.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Three months had passed since Wendy left the firm, and Debbie was still scrambling to save it. Caleb said she should fold it and not bother herself trying to hold the pieces together, that it was too late for that. She’d put so much into this firm, she couldn’t bear to see it close.

  Christmas had passed in a blur for Debbie. Usually, she spent the holidays with her friends, or she and Caleb went on a cruise. But this year, she’d pored over the books and returned client calls up until the Christmas meal at the Sheraton. It’d been a brief affair with a few friends and colleagues. She missed her Sunshine friends and had barely seen them in weeks.

  Over the past few months, she’d eaten poorly, hardly slept from the stress of it all. And to top it off, today she was expected in court to represent a client she barely knew in a case she wasn’t knowledgeable about or confident enough to present.

  Evelyne was looking for work. Her loyal and industrious executive assistant had stuck with her through the good and bad over the past decade, but Debbie had spotted her scrolling through job listings the previous Friday, and it’d felt like a stab to the gut. Not that she could blame her.

  Everyone knew what was going on. Three more partners had left. There were only three of them remaining—Debbie and two junior partners. Likely they were the only ones who hadn’t been able to find a new firm in such a short amount of time. And they both looked as though they’d barely slept a wink in weeks. All three of them were giving a very believable impression of the walking dead.

  Evelyne poked her head through the doorway of Debbie’s office. “You ready? It’s time to go to court. You’ll be late, and you know how the judge hates that.”

  “Who have I got again?”

  “Judge McEvoy. He’s a stickler for timing, and he’ll hold it against you.”

  Evelyne was right, but Debbie was still printing out paperwork to take with her. “Do I have everything? I feel completely unprepared for this case. Run over the details with me again.”

  She tugged the pile of papers from the printer and shoved them into her briefcase, then slipped her stockinged feet into a pair of sensible heels.

  “The McAlister Corporation is suing the Cathedral Corporation for breach of contract and for IP theft. Jill McAlister was engaged to be married to John Booker, who is the marketing manager for Cathedral. She claims that he stole their patented design for the latest technology in clean water. He says they developed it themselves and can prove the paper trail on that. But she’s suing him for breaching the contract between the two companies that stated the development would come from McAlister, not from within Cathedral. It’s a messy case that involves a broken engagement and a lot of personal angst. Your job is to prove that John Booker’s company contracted McAlister to do the work exclusively.”

  “Right—that makes sense. I wish I knew more about the companies involved. I’ve got the print-outs, but I haven’t had time to read them.”

  “Sorry, that’s all I know about it. I wish Davis hadn’t left us in the lurch like that, but he did. And the client decided not to follow him. Heaven only knows why.”

  Debbie shook her head as she grabbed her purse. “This is one time I’d rather let the client go, since I have no idea yet how I’m going to pursue this case. But I’ll do my best.”

  She dashed out the door as Evelyne called after her. “Good luck!”

  Her time in court didn’t last long. She wasn’t prepared, and the judge knew it. He threw out the case on a legal technicality, and it was over. Debbie barely had a chance to speak. She shuffled her papers into a folder and slid it into her briefcase, her cheeks burning hot.

  “What was that?” Jill McAlister hissed. She wore a tight pencil skirt and suit jacket over a silk blouse. Her blonde hair was perfectly tousled, and she pressed one hand to her hip. “What happened?”

  “It’s over. The judge thinks we don’t have a case.”

  “But you didn’t get to tell him what happened? That’s not fair.” Jill’s eyes flashed.

  “I know, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t file the right paperwork prior to the trial, and the judge pulled me up on it. I’m afraid we’re done. At least for today.”

  “You didn’t file…?” Jill’s voice rose. “Why didn’t you? I’m paying you an inordinate amount of money to represent me. And you didn’t do your job?”

  “I’m sorry. This case was handed to me at the last minute. I didn’t have time to brush up on it. It seems Davis didn’t file the paperwork. Again, I’m sorry.”

  There was no point in sugarcoating it. The client deserved to know the truth. And the fact was, the entire thing was a debacle and had been from the moment she was handed the file. There was no way she was going to be able to adequately represent the client, but she’d hoped the judge might give her some time before diving into the trial. That way, she could’ve brushed up on the case. But unfortunately, he’d had no sympathy for her situation and had seemed to relish the idea of making things more difficult simply because she’d been five minutes late to court. He had a reputation for being difficult, and he’d lived up to that today.

  “Let’s put this behind us and regroup,” Debbie said. “We need to figure out a way forward and try again. This wasn’t our only opportunity to get justice for what happened.”

  “No. Definitely not,” Jill said, straightening her jacket. “You’re fired. I’m taking this case to trial again, but I want a new lawyer. You clearly have no idea what you’re doing, and I can’t risk losing this suit.”

  Jill stormed out of the court with her entourage in her wake. Debbie watched her go, feeling her stomach twist itself into a gigantic knot. She didn’t blame Jill for reacting the way she had. There was a lot at stake for her—her invention, her company, her livelihood. Debbie knew how it felt to watch the thing you’d worked so hard to build crumble before your eyes.

  She packed up her things and wandered out of the court. Then she sat on the courthouse steps, watching the world rush by. What was she doing? This was no way to live. She could be pottering around her garden at the beach house in Sunshine. Instead, she was here, working on a stomach ulcer to save a company she no longer recognised.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Gwen studied the floor rug that hung from the ceiling. It was enormous, a Persian design. It would look perfect in the library at the bed-and-breakfast. But was it too big? She flipped over the corner, looking for the measurements. No, not too big. In fact, it was exactly the size she was looking for. Now she just had to get the attention of the sales lady to let her know she wanted the red one.

  She wandered through the spacious warehouse-style shop. It had everything from furniture to décor, rugs and fixtures. And she’d spent the past two hours browsing through the aisles, looking for pieces that would complement her boutique inn. So far, the rug was the only thing she’d decided on. But she wasn’t in a rush. The construction had only recently been approved by council, and she had plenty of time to choose décor and furniture. Now, where was that sales lady? She’d spoken to her ten minutes earlier, then the woman had disappeared.

  Her breath caught. Duncan was there. He was walking ahead of her in the aisle with the lamps and light fixtures, holding hands with a young woman. She must be his new girlfriend. Gwen took a step backwards and hid behind a floor lamp. It didn’t hide her completely, but she pretended to look at it intently while glancing in Duncan’s direction.

  What was he doing there? Were they decorating together? Of course they were. It made perfect sense. Duncan didn’t have a creative bone in his body. Gwen always had to do the work involved in making their house a home. Even though he’d always given his opinion, he hadn’t actively participated in the process. It seemed he’d changed in that respect. The two of them had stopped and were discussing a lamp. He picked it up and turned it over. The woman said something, and he laughed.

  Gwen’s stomach clenched. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. But they were divorced now—he could do what he pleased. It was none of her business. Then her breath caught in her throat. Was that a diamond on the woman’s ring finger?

  Suddenly it all made sense. The rush to get a divorce. Him coming over to see her and pressuring her to sign. He was engaged. How could he be engaged so quickly? Gwen had no idea how long he’d known her. It couldn’t have been more than a few months. Why hadn’t the children told her anything about this? No doubt they were embarrassed or didn’t want to hurt her. But they shouldn’t keep things from her. She wasn’t going to fall apart, if that’s what they were worried about.

  Duncan and the woman kept walking. They approached a large shopping trolley piled high with décor and floor rugs in rolls. They set the lamp on top of the pile, then pushed the trolley out of sight.

  She exhaled slowly, then squeezed her eyes shut. That was close. She didn’t want them to see her. She had barely brushed her hair that morning, instead pulling it into a short, messy ponytail. She was on a mission—she had work to do. She was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and joggers. Duncan’s fiancée was glamorous, slim and athletic, and about half Gwen’s age. Gwen peered down at the stain on the front of her T-shirt. She couldn’t bear the idea of running into Duncan looking like this. Especially not after seeing that gigantic rock on his fiancée’s finger.

  Suddenly she felt very small inside. He was moving on. Had moved on. She knew that. But seeing him engaged and shopping for homeware had rocked her more than she’d thought it would. He didn’t need time to recover from their separation or divorce. He clearly had hardly given her a second thought since she’d signed the papers.

  She didn’t want to hold on to him or any part of the past. She wanted instead to move forward, and the bed-and-breakfast was a way for her to do that. It gave her something to focus her time, energy and passion on, and she intended to make the most of it.

  She spied the woman who’d been helping her with the floor rugs and made a beeline for her.

  “The red one,” she said. “I want to take the red one. Thank you very much!”

  The woman nodded and left to fetch a flat trolley to put the rug on so Gwen could take it home. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would manage to carry it into the storage unit she’d rented, but she’d have to give it a try. She would have to do a lot of things on her own that she’d never had to do in the past. It was challenging, but she didn’t have a choice. It was time to embrace the changes that the past few months had brought.

  What should she call the boutique inn she was building? Something that would elicit the warmth and acceptance she wished she’d had. Love, romance, home. Words swirled around in her thoughts.

  The Second Chance Inn.

  No, that was too literal. Maybe that could be her pet name for the project. It was her second chance. But she needed something more sophisticated for the public.

  Aurora.

  She recalled that it was the Latin word for “dawn” from her high school days when she’d gotten top marks studying the language. And this was the dawn of a new beginning, a new day, for Gwen. This adventure was something she’d always wanted deep down inside. She’d longed for a project of her own. Something she could sink herself into, body and mind. Something that no one could take from her, where she was in charge and none could overrule her. Duncan was always doing that. He got his way, every single time. No matter what they were doing, what the discussion was about, he was right and he won. But not this time. She was the boss. The Aurora Boutique Inn and Bistro would be hers and hers alone. And she couldn’t wait to see it come together.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sounds, sights and smells of the hospital brought back painful memories for Joanna. She didn’t like it there. But this time, she wasn’t visiting her dying husband. She was there to support her pregnant granddaughter. Eva was in the obstetrician’s office. Joanna had offered to go into the appointment with her, but she hadn’t wanted her grandmother in there. She had always been such an independent child. And now, more than ever, she was going to need that strength.

  Her phone rang, and Joanna pulled it out of her pocket. It was Karen. Finally, her daughter had called her back.

  “Hi, honey,” Joanna said.

  “Hello, Mum. Sorry I’ve been so slack. It’s busy here. I’ve got a lot going on.”

  “I’m sure you do. I know how hard you work. But we need to talk about Eva and what we’re going to do about her and the baby. Has she told you anything about the father? She won’t tell me who it is.”

  Karen sighed. “His name is Storm.”

  “Storm?” Joanna tried hard not to be judgemental, but sometimes it was difficult.

  “Yes, his name is Storm Golden.”

  “That’s quite a name.”

  “And he’s quite a boy. He’s seventeen years old, and he doesn’t want anything to do with Eva or the baby. She took it quite badly, as you’ve no doubt realised.”

  “He broke up with her?” Joanna asked, sadness for her granddaughter seeping through her.

  “Initially, he wanted to marry her. Said they should be a family. We objected—they are far too young to get married. But then he got cold feet anyway and said he couldn’t handle all the responsibility. His own parents are divorced and a little toxic, from what I understand. So, he doesn’t have any support. As you know, I suggested that the two of them might be better off co-parenting rather than married, and Eva got really angry with me. I’d already given the advice that she had a choice to make, and she should consider her future. So, when I suggested adoption, she lost her temper with me. She yelled and cried, and then ran off. I didn’t realise she’d pack a bag and get on a bus to Queensland or I’d have followed her and made her talk to me about it.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Joanna replied. “But thank you for telling me about Storm. It gives me a bit more context to the whole situation. Getting information out of Eva is like pulling teeth.”

  “Tell me about it,” Karen said. She hesitated. “She should be here, you know.”

  “I know she should. Of course she should. She’s your daughter.”

  “And she’s only sixteen,” Karen continued. “This is where she belongs. At home.”

  “I’ve spoken to her about it,” Joanna said. “But she’s adamant that she can’t go home. I don’t know why she won’t consider it. Maybe she believes you’d pressure her into adoption, and she’s determined to keep the baby.”

  “You should talk to her. She’ll listen to you. Adoption really is the best option at this point. She will ruin her future. How can she finish high school? Go to university? Find someone who she loves to marry and have a family with? It’s all up in the air now, but adoption might give her a chance to do those things.”

  A lump formed in Joanna’s throat. “She can do those things with a baby. Sure, it might be harder, but she can still finish her education and get married. She loves this baby, Karen. When you were born, there was nothing in the world I wouldn’t have done to keep you right there with me. You were everything to me. And she feels the same way about her baby. Surely you can understand that.”

  “That’s different. You were ready for a child. She’s not ready. She’s still a child herself. I can’t tell you how upsetting this whole thing is to me. I’m not sleeping at night. My hair is falling out! Did you know that hair can fall out?”

  Joanna hated to think of her daughter in this much distress. “You’ve got to stop worrying about her. She’s absolutely fine. She’s here with me, and I’m taking care of her. She’s healthy, safe and ready for this baby. I promise you, everything is going to be okay.”

 

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