Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,2

her life. But that was long ago. She had fresh, adult heartbreak to deal with. And Gran. Gran was all that mattered now.

She tried to enjoy the rest of the sights but it was futile. That awful banner was blocking everything out, including her common sense.

“Tony—I mean, Cam—is back?” she found herself asking. Unlike the rest of the world, she’d never called him Cam.

But as far as she was concerned, Tony, the boy who’d been her first love, was long gone. So Cam he’d be.

Her mom turned in the front seat. “He’s been back since his injury, rehabbing his knee. Such a shame, isn’t it? Suddenly ending his career like that. I’m sure you two will run into each other.” Her voice was just a touch higher than usual, the tone she often used when she was nervous. Well, they were all nervous about Gran.

“I don’t want to see him again,” Hadley said, a little more adamantly than she’d meant to. She waved her hands dismissively. “He’s ancient history.” Ancient teenage heartbreak. That was all.

Her parents exchanged knowing glances, which made her nervous. Then her dad spoke. “Honey, there’s something else you need to know.”

Hadley white-knuckled her seat as she imagined even worse news. “What is it?”

“Well, your grandmother’s thinking of selling the Palace. Actually, she’s been considering retirement for some time.”

Gran, retire? For a woman who’d once vowed to take her last breath while sitting in Pooch Palace and petting the dogs, Gran’s sudden pushing of the panic button to sell her business just seemed off. The dogs were her life, her love, her joy.

“I’m sure after the accident she’d have some reservations,” Hadley said. “But I’m here all summer. I’m happy to help until she gets back on her feet.”

There went another knowing glance. Geez, she felt like she was twelve again, trying to read her parents’ private language from the back seat.

“Actually,” her mom said, “she’s thinking of selling the building…”

“…to Cam,” her dad finished.

She could not have heard right. “Come again?”

“He’s offered her quite a nice price,” her mom said.

“Wait. Gran wants to sell Pooch Palace to…to him?” She couldn’t say either of his names. She kept blinking but the furious scarlet before her eyes would not be erased.

“Business isn’t what it used to be.” Her dad turned onto the road that led to the hospital. “Even before the accident. Gran’s older and it’s getting harder for her to chase after all those dogs. Cam’s planning to use the building to open a sports bar/restaurant. The money would tide your grandmother off really well for retirement.”

Pooch Palace re-created as a sports bar? Gran retiring? It was like Hadley had landed in an alternate universe that looked like home but really wasn’t. Because the Gran she knew had vowed to never retire. And would never, ever consider selling her building to Tony Cammareri. Before he was Big-White-Flapping-Banner Cam, she’d known him as the One Who’d Crushed Her Tender Teenage Heart and Left It for Roadkill. On a Sticky Note. That Cam.

Why would Gran even be friendly with him?

Coercion, that’s what this was. Putting pressure on Gran when she was vulnerable. Cam was using his many charms to bamboozle Gran and her parents. Because clearly they were eating the Cam candy as well.

Her mom and dad exchanged looks again. “The business needs restructuring and rebranding. The new pet hotel near the interstate has taken away a lot of business.”

“I could help,” Hadley piped in. “That’s what I do. I could even ask for some unpaid leave if I needed to.”

“Honey,” her dad said, “your job is way too important for you to come back here and run a dog boarding business.”

He’d said it like Pooch Palace was an amateur lemonade stand, the kind that she and her best friends Kit and Darla used to set up at the bottom of the driveway as kids. Something that an educated Wells daughter would never stoop to do.

“Hadley,” her dad continued, “maybe you can stop by Carol Drake’s office tomorrow and tell her we want her involved.” His phone buzzed with another call.

Carol Drake, Super Realtor, could sell a falling-down shack as a vintage charmer with potential, and every year she won the top-selling Realtor award. Her office also happened to be two buildings away from Pooch Palace. But Hadley would rather have a dental extraction than ask Carol to handle this deal.

Hadley’s mom patted her knee as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. “We’ll drop you off so you