Once in a Lifetime(31)

“Your daddy isn’t the only one at fault,” Tammy said softly. “I know it hurt you that he didn’t have much time for you, but he was so busy working at the hospital, and his work was so important. Your sister is so much better suited to that life. I always meant to get me another man so you’d have a father figure, but that never really worked out.”

“Mom, it’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Well, now, that’s what I’ve always thought,” Tammy said. “You were so popular at school.”

More like notorious…

“You had boyfriends. And you dated in college. You always seemed to have a date.”

Aubrey loved her mom, she truly did, but Aubrey had gone to college in Seattle while working at various admin jobs. Not very far away in the scheme of things, but since Tammy rarely—if ever—left Lucky Harbor, Aubrey might as well have been on the moon. In all honesty, Tammy had no idea what Aubrey’s college life had been like.

“And then you got that fancy job at the town hall. I thought for sure you’d find yourself a fancy man to go with it and finally give me grandchildren.”

“Mom—”

“No, honey, let me finish. Every job you’ve ever had, you excelled at. Anything you’ve ever wanted, you got for yourself. You’re so capable. So strong. But you’re acting like…what do they say? An island.”

Every once in a while, a shockingly deep and wise kernel of wisdom came out of her mom’s mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with relying on myself,” she said in response. She couldn’t be disappointed in someone else that way. “I’m really okay, Mom. I promise.”

“Well, I have eyes in my head, don’t I? I can see that you’re good. But it’s okay to let someone in sometimes, you know. Being independent and strong and having to do everything yourself is one thing. But you shouldn’t have to be all on your own, always. You can let people in, let down your guard. Have more friends. Be less stressed…”

Aubrey smiled. “I’m not stressed. I love the store. And I’m not alone, either. I have you.”

“Aw, honey.” Tammy’s eyes went shiny, and she tilted her head back and blinked rapidly while waving a hand near her face. “Don’t you dare make me cry—I’m not wearing waterproof mascara today.”





Aubrey left her mom’s place feeling like a stuffed sausage—reminiscent of a time years ago when she’d felt that way every night. She took the long way back to the shop, by way of the bluffs—which actually wasn’t on her way home at all. It was at least ten miles out of her way.

The houses up here were expensive. Ritzy. Gorgeous.

Her dad lived at the end of a cul-de-sac in a huge, sprawling two-story house he’d had built to spec a few years ago, designed for his second wife.

Aubrey didn’t pull all the way down to the end of the street; she didn’t want to give herself away. Feeling like a ridiculous stalker, she eyed the lit-up house and felt her pulse kick. On the big front porch, with all the pretty hanging lights, sat a huge dollhouse. A big, perfect, gorgeous, fancy, clearly outrageously expensive dollhouse.

And it was forgotten on the porch, looking a little wet from the elements and dirty.

Her heart squeezed. Not hers, she told herself. Not anything like hers.

Hers had been much smaller, made of cheap plastic and cardboard. But she’d loved it. She’d loved it so much. Somehow it’d gotten lost in the divorce shuffle and subsequent move, and she’d mourned its loss more than the loss of her family’s togetherness. How silly was that?

But seeing this perfect dollhouse, neglected, unloved, brought it all back. That’s how she’d felt after the divorce, too. Neglected. Unloved.

Suddenly there was activity in the yard, which was lit by the house and porch lights, and she went still as stone, as though that would make her invisible.

But the three occupants on the frozen grass didn’t so much as turn her way or pay the slightest bit of attention to her.

It was her dad and Aubrey’s two half sisters, Brittney and Katrina, ages four and six. They were in matching dresses and wool coats. Her dad was in a suit and overcoat, looking neat and unruffled as ever, and they were all chasing around after a little puppy.

Aubrey felt sucker punched in the gut. She actually bent over with the pain, her hands on the steering wheel, her mouth open and gaping as though she were a hooked fish.



A dollhouse and a puppy. They had her dollhouse and her puppy. Okay, okay, not hers. But she felt as if part of her had just been stolen. Peals of laughter were coming from her half sisters, and then a sound she didn’t recognize at first.

Her father’s laugh.





By the time Aubrey got home, she was feeling the need to put on her ugliest sweats, swipe off all her makeup, and fill a Big Gulp cup with wine.

Make that vodka. She let herself in through the shop and inhaled the scent of freshly cut wood.

Then she heard Ben’s clipped voice.

“Fuck that,” he said. “The guy’s working less than two hours away? At a decent-paying job? And yet he’s not providing for his kids, much less even seeing them? They’re rotting away in that foster home, Luke.”

Aubrey stepped farther inside and found Ben at the far window, facing outside. He held the phone up to his ear with one hand while the other was shoved into his hair, holding it off his forehead. His feet were planted wide, in an aggressive stance that was dialed to pissed-off badass.