Sophie stood in the kitchen of her tiny apartment, finger-combing her long, curly blonde hair up into a messy bun. She loved her apartment but wished she had more space. She had decorated it with soft yellow and green, paired with vibrant blue and peach. Beach colors always seemed to infuse all of her designs, something her former clients had loved.

  The white rattan kitchen table with its round glass top and matching rattan chairs kept the small space from appearing smaller. The living room did not have enough space for a large sofa, but she had arranged a white rattan settee and chair in one corner, filled with thick cushions for comfort. Her television sat on a gray cabinet, the distressed wood giving it the appearance of driftwood.

  In the other corner she had placed a small white desk, overflowing with papers and files, her laptop sitting amongst the mess.

  She poured a glass of wine, continually checking the clock, wondering when Tommy was coming. They were supposed to go to dinner, but he had texted to say that he was running late. This seemed to be happening more often. Was it only a month ago that I told my parents that maybe he was the one? Shaking her head, she knew that had been premature…more expectation than true desire. Deciding that she had fiddled enough, she walked back over to her desk and plopped down in the white wicker chair. She had just opened her laptop when she heard the knock on the door.

  Standing, she walked over, threw it open and watched him walk in, wondering what his excuse was going to be this time. Wearing his usual outfit of dark suit and white shirt, she always checked to see what color tie he was wearing since that seemed to be the only difference in his work apparel. His hair was neatly combed over, never too long and never buzzed off. Like everything else about him, it was exactly the way he wanted it to be.

  Tommy stepped through the doorway, and with his hand placed on her waist, he bent and kissed her lightly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “We had clients that were delayed because of the impending weather. They were flying in from Boston, and their flight was held up, so we all had to shift our appointments back.”

  She forced a smile and said, “That’s fine. It gave me a chance to straighten my apartment a little bit.”

  She caught his gaze drift around the room, landing on her desk.

  “It looks lovely, Sophie, except for your workspace. I don’t see how you can keep anything straight when it looks like that.”

  “It’s not like I’m working in an accounting office like you,” she said, trying to keep the defensive edge out of her tone. “I’m creative, you know that. I never know when the creative muse might strike, and it’s fine if my desk is not perfectly straight.”

  “I still think you’ve made a huge mistake in working for yourself,” he said, his lips pressed into a tight line.

  She stared up at him, now battling the desire to roll her eyes. “We’ve been through this, over and over—”

  “Yes, we have. And we’ll keep going over it until you see reason.”

  She was beginning to hate the calm seriousness of his voice, wishing that he would show more emotion. At least then I’d really know he was feeling something! Before she had a chance to reply, he continued.

  “You left one of the most prestigious design firms in Richmond to start your own business,” he needlessly reminded her. “You had a great workplace, a boss that would be able to further your career, ready clients, benefits, and let’s not forget the most important thing…a steady paycheck. And you walked away from that, determined to strike out on your own. And here you are, three months later, with only a few low-paying clients. I didn’t understand your decision then, and I still don’t.”

  “I may have had all that, Tommy, but I wasn’t happy.”

  He stepped further into her apartment, and his gaze landed on the glass of wine sitting on the counter. Turning to her, he said, “We’re going out to dinner. Were you already having wine now?”

  She stared blankly at him for several long seconds, her blood beginning to boil. Tommy had seemed so safe when she first met him. No risky job. No risky behavior. Steady almost to the point of being boring. But that’s what I want, isn’t it? Quiet herself, she liked that she seemed to find her match in him. No arguments. No raised voiced.

  Now? All she knew was that at that moment, she wanted to pick up the wine glass and toss it in his face. Anything to see if there was emotion inside of him.

  “Forget the fucking wine, Tommy. We’re talking about my job and how you’re not supporting my decision.”

  His brows lowered, and he glared in her direction. “There’s no reason to get vulgar, Sophie.”

  Her fists landed on her hips as she squared off toward him. “You want to talk about vulgar? I told you last year that I had a coworker who kept hitting on me. I told you that nothing I said to him seemed to stop the behavior. Did you get upset about that vulgar behavior? No. You told me that as long as he was not actually touching me, then men in the office place will often tell a coworker that they’re pretty, or their legs look nice in a skirt, or they love the way a dress fits their body. I told you it wasn’t acceptable then, but you kept telling me to put up with it because it was a prestigious firm.”

  “Yes, and what did you do? You went to the boss,” he said, calm accusation dripping from him.

  Rearing back, she retorted, “Yes, I did. That’s what a woman should do when they’re being harassed. But Mr. Holston had the same antiquated attitude that you do and did not take me seriously. I’d been wanting to spread my wings, open my own design business, and do things my way, and that’s what I did.”

  Turning away from her, he walked over to the settee and picked up her coat. Holding it up, he said, “Let’s not argue about this. You quit, and it’s now going to take much longer for you to ever make it to a point to where we can have an equitable relationship. Even if you finally come to your senses and start with another design firm, you’re going to have to work your way back up.”

  Instead of moving forward to allow him to slide her coat over her arms, she stood, numbly staring at him. “Equitable relationship? Tommy, I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

  His arms dropped with her coat still held in his hands and said, “Sophie, don’t be obtuse. We’ve been dating for a while now, and I’m sure we both expected this to move to the next step. But there’s no way we can get engaged and plan a marriage when you’re barely making ends meet with your new endeavor.”

  Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she stared at him, wondering if she ever really knew him. “What does my decision to open my own design firm have to do with us getting engaged?”

  “I should be making partner soon at the accounting firm,” he said, staring at her as though he thought those words would make a difference. As she continued to stare at him, open-mouthed and silent, he continued, “I wanted to be able to introduce my fiancée as someone who worked for the Holston firm, but to say that she is squandering away her talents with some no-name clients hardly makes it equitable for us.”

  Numb cold slid through her veins. “I thought you were safe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Now it was his turn to rear back, giving his head a shake, indicating he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “I wanted safe,” she continued, a rock settling in her stomach. Her breath ragged, she added, “Someone I could count on to come home every night. Someone I didn’t have to worry about—” She cut herself off, not wanting to admit that she was going to say “dying”. Continuing, she added, “But not someone who can’t be supportive and who’s not truly interested in me.”

  “We don’t have time for this foolishness, Sophie,” Tommy said. Holding his hands up with her coat still in them, giving it a shake, he said, “Put your coat on and let’s go.”

  Her legs felt like wood, but she moved forward, reaching out for her coat. Instead of turning and slipping it on, she pulled it from his hands and tossed it back to the settee. “You go on to dinner, Tommy. I’m really not hungry anymore. And,” she looked up at him sadly, “I don’t think you need to plan on any more dinners with me.”

  His mouth dropped open, and for a moment the awkward silence moved between them. Finally, he spoke, “You’re breaking up with me?”

  She nodded slowly and said, “I thought you were what I needed. I thought we were a fit. But the reality is, Tommy, we’re not right for each other at all. You need a woman who can fit into the mold that you’ve decided is right for you. And I need someone…” Swallowing hard, she walked over to the door, and with her hand on the doorknob, stopped and turned back to him. “I want someone who would go to battle for me if they even thought that I was being harassed. I don’t need to be taken care of…but I want to be cared for. I want someone who would guard my heart.” A memory of those words being said years earlier caused her to gasp. Squeezing her eyes closed, she fought to steady her breathing.

  Finally opening her eyes, she stared at Tommy. It was hard to tell if he was angry or not. His face remained tightly composed. But as he walked through the door, he said, “I don’t think I understand you at all, Sophie. Goodbye.”

  She closed the door quietly behind him, turned, and leaned her back against it. She expected to dissolve in tears, but all she felt was an immense sense of relief. The memory of wanting to guard her heart stung more than Tommy’s laissez-faire attitude. Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly before pushing away from the door. Walking over to her wine glass, she carried it to her messy desk, cleared a spot for it, and opened up her laptop again.

  I’ve got my own business. I set my own hours. I can drink while I work.

  7

  Callan kneeled on the deck of the rocking boat, the waves higher than normal in the Bay. The distress call had come in from one of the local fishing boats, and the Baytown Coast Guard station rushed to the scene to secure and assist until the rescue helicopter from the station in Portsmouth could reach them. The fisherman’s son reported the captain had been complaining of indigestion all day and finally collapsed on the deck.

  Bryce, one of Callan’s team members and their medic, stabilized the captain and prepared him to be transported. With Jarrod notifying him and Bryce, they watched as the helicopter approached. Within a few minutes, the Portsmouth Coast Guard was lowering two men and their basket.

  “Is he going to be okay?” the son asked, hovering next to Callan as they all knelt with their heads bent against the force of the wind.

  “I don’t know,” Callan answered honestly, “but we’re doing everything we can.”

  “Where will they take him? I’ve got my brother on the radio, and he’s already told my mom. She wants to head out immediately but doesn’t know where to go.”

  Callan, trying to calm the son, pulled him back slightly, allowing the Portsmouth Aviation Survival Technicians to secure the captain into the basket. They assisted as the basket began its ascent up into the helicopter. Once the man was secure, one of the Survival Technicians went up after him, and Callan checked with the one still on the deck.

  “Which hospital will you take him to?”

  “Virginia Beach General Hospital,” came the answer. “It’s the closest and has the best cardiac unit.”

  Stepping back, Callan allowed the final technician to be lifted into the helicopter as well, and turned to the son, giving him the information. “Call your brother and have him get your mom safely to the hospital. You get back to the Baytown Harbor, call in some friends to come secure your boat, and make sure you get to the hospital safely yourself. You’re not going to do your dad any good by putting yourself in danger trying to race down the road.”

  Moving back over to the Coast Guard RB-M vessel, he waved at Jarrod, and they pulled away from the fishing boat. Following behind, they made sure the boat made it back to the harbor before they docked at the Coast Guard Station.

  José and Tanisha hustled out to assist in securing their medium response boat as well. By now the rain had started, hitting them sharply in the face as the wind continued to whip around.

  “I hate rain in the winter,” José said. “I’ll take snow any day.”

  Callan did not say anything but inwardly agreed. Working efficiently, they quickly secured their boat and headed inside. Jarrod, Bryce, and Callan moved into the locker room, stripping off their raingear and changing into dry clothes.

  “You got the report?” Jarrod asked.

  He nodded and replied, “Yeah. I know you’re off duty now. I’ll get the report completed and see you tomorrow.” By the time he finished and met with Jeff, he was more than ready to head home. Before leaving, he called Virginia General Hospital to see if he could get an update on the fishing captain. He managed to get hold of his wife and found out that her husband was still alive and in surgery. Offering them his best wishes, he hung up and leaned back in his seat, blowing out a deep breath.

  He remembered his own fear when his mother had called to tell him that his father had had a heart attack. Swiping his hand over his face, he stood, shaking those thoughts out of his mind. With a wave goodbye to those still on duty, he headed out to his truck. Another day…another rescue.

  “I’m good, Mom, I really am,” Sophie said, balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder while she clicked on her laptop keyboard. “I don’t want you and Dad to worry about me. I know I told you that I thought Tommy and I had a real future together, but I finally realized that with him, I was settling. And while I want things to be safe, I don’t want to just settle. I don’t want to simply settle in my career, and I don’t want to just settle in a relationship.”

  “Oh, honey, I think that’s wonderful,” her mom replied, and Sophie could hear the relief in her voice.

  “It’s true I’m not rolling in clients right now, but I have several that I have just finished interior designs for, and they love my work. So I’m hoping by word-of-mouth, I’ll get more.”

  “I don’t want you to take this in an insulting way,” her mom began, “but do you need a little help while you’re building up your clientele?”

  Knowing her parents cared deeply but did not want to overstep their bounds, she smiled. “Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I’m fine. I had saved quite a bit of money over the last couple of years, and since I’m working out of my home, I have very few expenses right now.”

  Closing out the screen she was looking at on her laptop, she clicked on her email and began to scroll. Seeing one that caught her eye, she said, “Mom, can I call you later? I’m trying to get a little work done this afternoon, and I’ve gotten behind in my emails.”

  “That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got to get ready for an American Legion Auxiliary meeting this evening anyway. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom,” she said, disconnecting. Laying the phone down, she closed her eyes for just a moment, feeling the familiar pain, knowing that her mother was the only Baytown Boy mom whose son did not come home. Sighing, she gave her head a shake, then went back to work.

  The email that caught her eye was from The Dunes Resort. The Dunes was in the southern part of Baytown, not in the historic town proper. It had originally been a large farm bought by a developer almost fifteen years ago who saw the property as a potential goldmine. Two golf courses graced the resort as well as a sports facility, restaurant, condos, and houses, all surrounded by lush gardens and trees.

  Several years after the development began, the houses being built came to a halt when the real estate market crashed. But in recent years, a resurgence of interest had new houses popping up and a new section of condos near the golf course being built.

  Clicking on the email, she saw that it was from The Dunes Resort head real estate agent, Carlotta Ventura. Curious, she began reading the email. Carlotta mentioned that she had met Sophie’s mother through the AL Auxiliary and discovered that Sophie was an interior designer. Carlotta had looked at her website and was very impressed. The email detailed the resort’s opportunity of having one of their houses and condos featured in an upcoming issue of Southern Living magazine, and they planned on having them professionally designed and staged. Carlotta wanted to know if Sophie would be available for a tour of the facilities so that they could discuss hiring her for the job.

  The Dunes Resort! Southern Living! Oh, my God! This would be a huge job that could make my career! The idea that her work could be showcased in such a prestigious publication had her jumping up from her chair and dancing around her living room, hands waving in the air.

  Catching her breath, she rushed back over to her desk and plopped into the seat, rereading the email to assure herself she had not dreamed it. I need to respond! I need to respond right now so she knows I’m interested!

  Hands poised over the keyboard, she forced them back into her lap and took several deep breaths. This job would bring financial stability to her wobbly bank account as well as notoriety with the magazine publication of her work. But I’d be back in Baytown for several months. Chewing on the bottom of her lip, she thought of moving back to her parents’ home. The idea of spending more time with them and her old friends called to her, but a flash of Callan’s face ran through her mind and she hesitated. He had always been so polite over the last several years when she saw him but wondered if he secretly resented the way they parted years ago. Can I face that? Can I face seeing him often, considering he lives right behind my parent’s house?

  Huffing, she shook her head. He probably doesn’t think of me at all anymore. I’m just an old crush from years ago. Biting her lip again, she dropped her gaze to her hands, noting them shaking slightly. He may not think of me, but I’ve never forgotten him. They say you never forget your first love.

  Shoving those thoughts aside, she focused on the email, allowing the excitement of the job to move through her. Decision made, she typed out her response. Rereading it carefully, she continued to tweak the email until it was perfect. She thanked Carlotta for the opportunity and assured her of her excited interest. Letting Carlotta know that she was available at any time to come to Baytown, she hit send. Glancing at the clock, seeing it was late afternoon, she sighed, wishing that she could hear back today.