Every morning, Tessa woke up feeling slightly more healed than she had the day before. She’d get her coffee, and feel her grief one ounce lighter than the day before. She’d step out on the deck, look at the sky, and know Dad was up there, watching out for her.
Well, he hadn’t seen this coming. Unless…there was some truth to the accusations.
She turned and looked at Lacey. “What if heissomehow responsible for Roger going to prison? Directly or tangentially?”
Lacey angled her head and gave an “are you serious” scoff. “Tess, my grandfather, may he rest in peace but probably doesn’t, committed a slew of white-collar crimes. No one is responsible for Roger going to prison except Roger. He was greedy, selfish, and believed himself to be above the law.”
Tessa nodded, having had this conversation around the bonfire with Eli, who carried a lot of pain from his father’s bad decisions.
“And there was nothing and no one my father hated more,” Tessa said, “than someone who thought they were above the law.”
The air in the room seemed to still as Tessa’s mind flooded with memories of her father. His warm smile, his patient guidance, the endless hours they’d spent learning and loving each other whether it was over a textbook or on a fishing boat.
Artie Wylie wasn’t just her father; he was her hero, the person who’d made her feel like she could do anything. He’d swooped in on more than one occasion and helped her out of her darkest places.
Losing him seven months ago was the single hardest thing she’d ever had to bear. But she had been healing—slowly and steadily.
Staying and listening to that wild-eyed woman rant lies about him would take her back to square one. And if Eli and Vivien thought their sister was right, then…
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t be here anymore, Lacey. I just can’t.”
“Tessa, drag your beautiful brain back to the fantastic event you managed today.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Was that party today? It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Today, this very morning, you were ready to quit when Garrett’s wife appeared and rocked your boat.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t.” She pointed at Lacey. “You’re only good for one pep talk a day, young friend.”
“Well, it’s almost midnight, so I’m counting this as tomorrow.” Lacey stood. “Don’t run, Tessa Wylie.”
Tessa stood stone still, closing her eyes, hearing the words, remembering all the times she’d chosen the easy way out.
“You can’t just run away when things get difficult,” Lacey pressed. “You know he’d hate that.”
She didn’t have to ask whohewas. She smiled and looked at Lacey, placing her palm on the young woman’s cheek, a splash of old feelings bubbling up.
“Where’d you come from, sweet girl? How’d you get to know me so well?”
Lacey put her hand over Tessa’s. “What are you so scared of?” she whispered.
Tessa turned away and grabbed the edge of the open suitcase. “I… I don’t know.” She knew it was a lie, but, oh, it was late, and she was way too wiped out for a shrink session.
Plus, if she dug too deep, she’d get to…things she didn’t talk about. And Lacey, for reasons she’d never understood, had a way of pulling the truth out of Tessa.
“Yes, you do know,” Lacey said. “And if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But you have to be honest with yourself.”
Tessa swallowed hard, feeling the old, familiar shame rise in her throat. She’d spent years running—not just from situations, but from herself. From the mistakes she’d made, the things she couldn’t fix, the decisions—one in particular—that had broken her in ways no one could see.
But she always had her standard explanation at the ready.
“You know I’ve always felt a little…not smart,” she said on a laugh.
“Dyslexia,” Lacey said.
“I struggled to read. I battled my eyes and brain that refused to work like other people’s. I got by on my looks and when people start to see through that?” She shrugged. “I take off.”
“Tessa, none of that is at the heart of this issue. You have as much right to be here as Crista, who is probably leaving in the morning, if she hasn’t already. Plus, I can’t plan that Bat Mitzvah alone.”
