Sea Star Legacy Read online

  “You’d better get in there with your mother before she comes out looking for you,” he told her.

  “Yes, I suppose I’d better. It isn’t going to get any easier hiding out here.”

  Luke reached for the door handle and let himself out. As she watched him stroll down the walkway, her breath caught in her throat and her heart seemed to stop. The thud of a shutting door was such a final sound, so abrupt, clean and sharp.

  Forcing her thoughts to the dilemma at hand, she ascended the steps leading to the kitchen and her mother. Carolyn Daniels sat, as stiff as a statue on one of the bar stools. Her hands were clasped on the top of the counter as she stared out the glass door that led to the deck. Sandra wanted to talk to her mother. There were a lot of questions she needed to ask her, but she hadn’t planned to hear the answers today.

  “How’s the coffee? Sandra asked, trying to select a safe topic of conversation. If she could only go upstairs and dress before her mother started ranting.

  “The coffee isn’t bad. Pretty good in fact. Your young man knows how to brew a pot of coffee.”

  “Good. I’ll pour myself a cup.” Sandra crossed the living room and entered the kitchen. Her mother’s tone of voice and unnerving stare prodded her every step. Focusing on the task in front of her, she reminded herself she was a grown woman. She could handle her mom.

  “How was your flight?” Sandra asked as she rearranged the unoccupied stool across from her mother and sat down.

  “You know how I hate to fly.” Mrs. Daniels grimaced at her daughter, as though Sandra had brought up the topic for the sole purpose of irritating her.

  She’s not going to let go of this until we’re in a fight, Sandra thought, as she stared open eyed at her mother. Don’t say a word, she coached herself. She is baiting you.

  “How long have you been seeing that man?” her mother asked in a monotone voice.

  “I met him the first day I arrived in Fort Walton. I had gotten myself stuck in the bay on my sailboard. He gave me a lift to shore.”

  “Good heavens, you took a sailboard out there,” her mother exclaimed while using a long thin finger to point at the churning surf.

  “What do you expect, Mother? I run a sailing shop. I’ve always loved the water.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Sandra. Don’t throw your life away, like Ben did. All your father ever did was chase one affair after another and become a sailing bum.”

  “My father was not promiscuous. He loved you very much, mother. And, he wasn’t a bum. He was a business man who enjoyed his work and his friends.

  “What has happened to you? Has living in Florida fried your brains?”

  “Mom, I don’t understand why you want me to hate my father. I know the truth. He didn’t run out on us. He tried to send for you, however, you never accepted his letters.”

  “Accepted his letters? Sandra Anne that man never wrote me a single line the entire time he was gone.”

  “Well, someone sure did. There are at least two dozen returned letters in Dad’s chest. They were all addressed to either you at Grandma’s address or to me at home.”

  Carolyn Daniels grew silent and placed her coffee mug on the counter with exaggerated care. Sandra could tell from the expression on her face, she was confused. The lines in her forehead puckered together as her eyes took on a solemn cast.

  “Honey, I returned the letters from your father to you. I never received anything from him at Grandma’s.”

  “You returned my letters. Mother, what gave you the right?”

  “I was only doing what I thought was best for you. Your father hurt me. I didn’t want him to do the same thing to you. He’d filled your head with lofty promises he could never keep.”

  “I had a right to have a father.”

  Mrs. Daniels eased off the tall stool and moved towards the window. For the first time in Sandra’s life she thought how frail her mother looked. She should have guessed that her grandmother had been the one who sent the letters back. She’d never liked her dad. She believed her daughter was too good to be married to someone without a social standing.

  Sandra moved to stand by her mother, empathy ripped at her heart. “I’m sorry, mom. You really loved Dad, didn’t you?” She placed her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

  “Of course, I loved him,” she mumbled.

  “The letters are in the chest in the bedroom. Why don’t you read them? They haven’t been opened. I figured those were between you and him.”

  “Read them if you like or throw them out. I don’t even want to see them.” Bitterness in concert with her pride sounded in her mother’s voice. “I’m married to a wonderful man who has taken good care of me for more than twenty years. Those letters are ancient history. You read them if you want to.”

  Carolyn Daniels moved away from Sandra’s embrace. “I did what I did because I love you,” she said walking towards a picture of Sandra’s father and Luke. “He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, his pictures are striking.”

  “Is this Luke beside him?’

  “Yes, that’s Luke. He was a good friend of Dad’s.”

  “Well, you know best,” she said with a faint smile. “Why don’t you get some clothes on and we’ll go out for breakfast?”

  Sandra strode to the stairway with her cup in hand and nodded in reply.

  “You still haven’t told me why the telephone technician was here last night.”

  Sandra stopped in mid stride and glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “It’s a long story. I’ll get dressed and we can walk at the Traders Cove.”

  On the way to the diner, Sandra explained to her mother that the phone repairman had been the sheriff; how she had found the threatening note pinned to her door and the shredded bathing suit, and that Luke had been the one who called the sheriff.

  To Sandra’s surprise, her mother didn’t appear startled by the news or concerned about her welfare. “It’s probably nothing more than a bored school kid,” she told her.

  “That is what I thought, but Luke is worried it could be a local fisherman.”

  “A local fisherman? What would they have to do with you? Good heavens, you don’t sale fish bait, do you?” she asked, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

  “Mother, really. The fishermen blame sailboat enthusiast for ruining their nets and running the fish farther out to sea.”

  “Do sailboats, do that?” her mom asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Whoever it is, I’m sure you’ll get the situation under control soon,” Mrs. Daniels said with a bit too much enthusiasm for Sandra’s taste. “This Luke fellow really does care for you, doesn’t he?”

  “We’re friends. He’s special.”

  * * *

  There wasn’t much of a crowd at the restaurant. A few tourist sat at the tables wearing their cameras like badges. At the counter, a couple of local patrons clutched their coffee cups exchanging local news. Sandra prayed she wasn’t the topic of anyone’s conversation as they chose a booth near the door.

  Sandra scanned the room for Bernice. She wasn’t sure how her mother would take Bernice especially if she found out she had lived with Ben.

  The sound of the older woman’s bubbling voice and the clatter of her heels carried through the stainless steel double doors leading from the kitchen. Bernice pushed them open with her elbow while she held a pot of coffee in one hand and a platter of fresh pasteries in the other. Sandra chuckled to herself as she watched her mother eye the woman in the multicolored dress with surprise.

  Sandra waved Bernice over to their table.

  “Sandra, really, I’m not famished. Someone will bring us a menu in good time.”

  “Mother, I’m not trying to wave down a waitress. I simply want you to meet Bernice Miles. She’s the owner of the Trader’s Cove and a good friend of mine,” Sandra told her, stumbling a bit over the last part of the explanation.

  “Just a minute, sweetie, let me set these goodi
es down.” Bernice’s voice rose above the clatter, but no one seemed to take notice.

  Sandra looked from her thin mother dressed in a navy linen suit trimmed in red with matching shoes to the robust woman traveling the tile floor in bright orange pumps. The orange pumps did bring out the color of the print in her dress. However, the shoes had seen better days. Who would have ever guessed the same man could have loved both women? she mused.

  I’m so glad to see ya, Sandra,” Bernice said, standing next to where Sandra sat. “I heard there was quit a commotion last night.”

  “I have someone here I want you to meet. Bernice, this is my mother, Carolyn Daniels. Mom, this is Bernice Miles,” she said, ignoring Bernice’s lead into the sheriff’s visit. It certainly hadn’t taken them long to spread the information around town.

  “Bless my soul, your mother, I’d hoped to meet you soon. I thought you’d been here for the funeral.” Bernice wiped her hands on her dish towel and offered her, her hand.

  “It’s a rather long drive and my ex-husband and I hadn’t seen each other in over 21 years.” Mrs. Daniels replied as she ignored Bernice’s outstretched hand. “There simply was no reason for me to be here.”

  “Carolyn Daniels, is it?” Bernice wiped her hands again.

  “Yes,” she replied dryly.

  “Can I get you two a cup of coffee and a menu?”

  “Sounds great,” Sandra interjected before her mother could speak. She could tell by the expression on both women’s faces their tempers had been stirred. She should have guessed this would happen, she thought with a sigh.

  “I’ll send Dana over to get your order,” Bernice said in a quiet voice, her face divested of her usual smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Daniels. I know Sandra must be happy to have family visiting at last.”

  “Thanks, Bernice,” Sandra replied trying to ice over the tension between the two women. She hadn’t expected Bernice to be anything but her usual sweet smiling self. Sandra couldn’t blame her though. Her mother had been out right rude.

  “The nerve of that woman, Sandra. You would have thought from her attitude she was your mother and I was . . . some stranger who’d wronged you.”

  “You’re right, she admitted, and took a deep breath for courage sake. “Bernice has taken me under her wing since Dad’s funeral. She a . . . misses him a lot.” Sandra watched as her mother’s face grew pale.

  “Were they good friends?”

  “Yes. She lived with him for the last five years.”

  “Ben Harris lived with her for the last five years,” she repeated putting an accent on the word her. Her mother made Bernice sound like a disease one contracted from traveling overseas despite the precautionary shots.

  “She’s a decent person and a good friend.”

  Carolyn Daniels shook her head and grinned at her daughter. “I can’t believe you are taking up for this woman.”

  “Why? Don’t you take up for your friends? Or is it that you have no friends at those crusty social clubs you belong to?”

  Her mother curled her lips together in irritation and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure Bernice is alright. She simply isn’t the kind of woman I would have pictured your father chasing after.”

  “Mom, you had him all wrong. Dad loved you and me. He loved Bernice. He wasn’t some warped old beach bum trying to find his youth. People in this town respected him as a business man. Furthermore, I plan to carry on his name and his business here.”

  Dana sashayed up to the table, positioned her pen and pad in place and smiled. “Sandra isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Luke was telling me about you at the party the other night. I tried to get over and introduce myself. Hank and I were talking and well, you’d already left.” She looked down at her name tag with pride. “I’m Dana Fulbright.”

  I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Dana. This is my mother, Carolyn Daniels.”

  Dana blushed a soft pink causing her cheeks to match her lipstick and uniform. She reminded Sandra of a thin ball of pink cotton candy. “Are you from Oklahoma, too?” she asked Sandra’s mother in awe.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I declare. How do you ever survive with all those Indians and cows?”

  Carolyn lifted her eyebrows at Sandra in a disapproving fashion and then addressed Dana. Sandra closed her eyes not wanting to hear her mother’s reply. “I’m not a cow hand nor do I live on a reservation. Oklahoma is home to cultural destinations as well as high tech companies from the oil and gas boom.”

  “No cows or Indians either one? Who’d a figured.” Dana shrugged, dismissing the conversation. “What would you two like to eat?”

  “I’ll have one of Ernie’s cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. Mother, what would you like?

  “Black coffee will be fine.”

  “I thought you were hungry,” Sandra exclaimed as she shot her a hard stare. She’d never had much patience with her mother’s snobbish ways. After all, they weren’t born into the upper registry of society. Her mother had married into earned money. That wasn’t the sort of family history blue bloods appreciated.

  “Very well, bring me a side order of French toast,” Carolyn Daniels ordered in a patronizing tone.

  Dana stood staring at them, her lower lip agape.

  “You do have French toast here, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, we do. I’ll bring it right out,” Dana replied and turned towards the kitchen. As Dana promenaded away, Sandra watched the hem of her short skirt skip from side to side with each swing of her hips.

  “If this is a sample of the general population of this town, Sandra Anne, I’m not impressed.

  Sandra felt the rush of fury heat her face. “There is nothing wrong with this town or its people. The only difference between them and you is that you think you’re too good to come down off your pedestal.”

  Sandra’s mother picked up her napkin from her lap and laid it abruptly on the table. “Are you through with your speech?”

  “No, I expect you to be polite to my friends while you’re here.”

  “Friends? You call a meddling, over weight woman with the fashion sense of a hermit and a blonde 60 watt light bulb you just met friends.”

  “Bernice is a good woman. Give her a chance. And, Dana, she’s harmless enough. Why pick on her?”

  Carolyn Daniels corked her eyebrows into a question and nodded her head. “Yes, I can see Dana and you fast becoming friends.”

  “What are you trying to say, Mother?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t know you enjoyed the company of a woman whose most stimulating comment would be the cost of bleach for her hair at the corner beauty shop.”

  “Unlike you,” Sandra began, stiffening her seat and reminding herself they were in public, “I can appreciate other people for what and who they are.”

  Sandra looked past her mother to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. The only other person she saw within earshot was Eustice. She wasn’t sure how sharp his hearing was. She could only hope, he had not overheard her mother’s rude comments.

  “Here comes our coffee. Perhaps it will sweeten your disposition, Sandy.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me Sandy.”

  Her mother pretended not to hear her.

  Sitting up straight, Sandra glared at her as Dana served them two steaming cups from her tray and Sandra’s pastry. “Your French toast will be right out, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Sandra replied before her mother had a chance to insert another cutting remark. Her mother was a good woman but stubborn to the bone. Once she took an instant disliking to you, Sandra knew from experience, there was no changing her mind. The individual in question could solve the problem of world hunger and she still wouldn’t have a kind word for them.

  “There, Sandy, isn’t that better?” her mother patronized.

  “I said, I wish you wouldn’t call me Sandy. It isn’t my given name.”

  Mrs. Daniels looked up from her cof
fee with an annoying grin on her face that told Sandra, she was playing games with her. “You’re too sensitive.”

  “No, I am not. The only time you call me Sandy is when you’re trying to pull something over on me or else butter me up for some yet unannounced plan of yours.”

  “You make me sound so meddlesome. I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m your mother. I love you.”

  “And, I love you, but I also intend to stay here and make a go of my life, threats or no threats.”

  “I’ll have to accept your decision then, won’t I?” she smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “Charles will be disappointed you know.”

  “He will live with the bad news. The only reason he’s always been good to me, Mom, is because of you. He doesn’t think of me as his daughter. I’m your appendage. He accepts me because he cares for you, which is fine. He is a good stepfather. He isn’t my dad though.

  Carolyn Daniels frowned for a second before quickly covering her disappointment with a smile.

  Why didn’t her mother ever play it straight with her? Sandra wondered. Her motives were undisputable if she only didn’t try to manipulate everyone.

  “I think I’ll go powder my nose for a moment, providing there’s a bathroom in this establishment with running water.”

  “Yes, Mother, there is. It’s in the back to the right. I’m sure you can find it.”

  Sandra slumped into the stiff back of the booth. Thank goodness for a few moments of peace away from her mother’s ever present prying, she thought. As she lifted the mug of coffee to her lips, she inhaled the fragrance put off by the steaming brew. Sipping a small taste, she found it calming. Bernice always made the coffee herself and it was always wonderful. She smiled as she remembered the first cup of coffee Bernice had made for her and their heated words. So much had changed since then.

  Two men wearing light jackets and friendly smiles broke Sandra’s concentration as they entered the restaurant. Void of the usual camera, sunglasses and the smell of over applied sun tan lotion, they didn’t look like your typical tourist. Their clothes were not fresh, but rather appeared to have already seen a day’s worth of wear. Sitting two booths down, Sandra could hear their laughter and hushed remarks.