Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,4
And two, he was not getting Pooch Palace. Not now, not ever. She’d make certain of it.
Chapter 2
Cam’s in there, all right,” Hadley’s best friend Kit said the next morning. She stood with Hadley and their other best friend Darla across the street from Pooch Palace. “I see his vintage Mustang in the back lot.”
“I’m going to go in there and give him a piece of my mind.” Hadley tried to unball her fists and calm down. “Except I’m so angry I’m seeing splotches. I may not be responsible for my actions.”
“Maybe you should go home and take a nap first,” Darla said. Although she was petite with a cute blond pixie cut, she was tough as nails. And she never hesitated to say what she thought.
The WELCOME HOME, CAM banner was draped clear across Petunia Street over their heads, as flashy as the man it paid homage to.
“I’m glad your grandma’s surgery went well,” Darla said. “But I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
“Me too.” Worry squeezed Hadley’s abdomen tight. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself that it was sleep deprivation from spending the night curled up in that rock-hard chair beside her grandmother’s bed that was making her bad mood a whole lot worse.
“I’m sorry too,” Kit said. “But quit looking at the banner. You’re just punishing yourself.”
“The whole town is pretty excited Cam’s back,” Darla said. “I mean, he’s the most famous football player in the world.”
Kit shot Darla a look.
“He was definitely a jerk to Hadley a long time ago,” Darla rushed to amend. Then she added, in true Darla fashion, “But he’s still hot.”
“Was the most famous football player,” Kit said, shaking her head sadly. “Before he got his knee crushed.”
Darla gave Hadley a squeeze. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s fine,” Hadley said. “This is about my grandmother.” Who needed her. “I just wish she would’ve mentioned something to me if she were really thinking about retiring.”
She did not want her grandmother to feel forced to sell the business she’d poured her lifeblood into for the past thirty years, the one that she—and Hadley—loved with all their hearts.
“Maybe she didn’t want to trouble you because you’ve had a lot going on,” Kit said. Practical and nurturing, with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face, Kit had always been most like an understanding mom, even before she became one. Which Hadley desperately appreciated right now.
Kit took a second to roll a hair elastic from her wrist, bending over to gather up her still-damp mass of dark hair into a ponytail, a reminder to Hadley that both her friends were taking time from their busy mornings to support her.
“You’re here now.” Kit gave her a side hug. “You can make a difference now.”
Hadley flashed a grateful almost-smile at Kit, the optimist in their tight-knit group of three, her sisters-of-the-heart. Hadley’s dad had jokingly dubbed them the three musketeers from the tender age of five, and the moniker had stuck. They had stuck together, through thick and thin, ever since.
Hadley thought of the simple joys of their childhood with a longing that nearly made her tear up again. How had her life gotten so complicated? She’d planned to come home to rest, to get herself together—to eat ice cream on the curb faster than it could dribble down her chin. To be surrounded by her tight-knit circle of family and friends. To play with the dogs.
Except now there would be no more dogs to play with.
“Oh, yoo-hoo, there you three are,” a voice behind them said. Hadley turned to find Anita Morales, one of her grandmother’s good friends and the owner of Ye Olde Yarn, the needlework shop down the street. She was dressed in a vivid floral-print dress with a matching fuchsia purse and shoes. Her poodle, Jesse, wore the same color bows on her ears and had painted toenails.
“How are you, dear?” Anita squeezed Hadley against her ample bosom. “That awful, sneaky, no-good louse. Mr. Big Shot Actor. Don’t you give him and his hussy girlfriend a second thought.” She patted Hadley on the shoulder. “You’re home now.”
“Thanks, Anita,” Hadley managed. This was exactly what she didn’t want. To be fussed over. To stand out. Unlike Cam-of-the-Big-Banner, who was probably basking in all the attention. Not that she begrudged him his hard-earned fame, but why couldn’t her high school love have been somebody with a low profile, like their classmate with the very prestigious, hush-hush job working for the CIA? He certainly wasn’t coming home to