2. Mila

TWO

Life is full of challenges and surprises,

and I've had my share.

~ John Daly

"Moooommmm! I'm hoooooommme!" Noah's voice echoes through the front room of the inn as the door slams shut behind him.

"In here," I shout at half the volume he just employed.

My son's face appears around the corner of the kitchen doorway. He shucks his super-hero backpack and plops it onto the floor.

"Inside voices, please," I remind Noah.

Not that it will do me any good. He's rambunctious, nearly seven years old, and he lives in the moment. He never did learn to whisper, maybe that skill will come with age.

"Okay. Is there guests here? I'm starved."

"It's are. Are there guests. And, yes. A couple checked in this morning and we have two other guests arriving tonight. And, starved, huh? That's pretty dire. Didn't you eat the lunch I sent you?"

"Yeah. But that was houuurs ago."

"Okay." I smile a private smile as I open the oven door. "Wash your hands and I'll get your snack. Do you have homework?"

"Nope. Just this All-About-Me thing. I have to take a picture of me too. And Mrs. Jensen said I can put just your name under parents."

I pull the baking sheet out of the oven.

"We can take a picture of you later today. Once Chloe arrives."

Noah pulls the step stool up to the sink and washes his hands while I place the snickerdoodles on a cooling rack.

"Snickerdoodles! My favorite!" As if I didn't know my son's favorite cookie.

Noah climbs onto one of the stools around the island.

"Mine too," my best friend, Chloe, says from the spot where she just appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey, you. I wasn't expecting you 'til later."

"Well, I'm here. Maybe it's the cookies. They were calling to me."

"Believe it or not, I baked these for my guests."

"Am I your guest?" Noah asks, batting his lashes just the slightest. That boy.

"You are my favorite guest. And one of the hosts too, so no sneaking extras. Mkay?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Is that faucet dripping again?" Chloe asks, looking at my sink.

I give the knob a tug, hoping it's just that Noah didn't shut it all the way off. Sure enough, it's still dripping.

"Looks like it."

I had this kitchen renovated a number of years ago, right after I inherited the property. Back then, before Noah was born, I imagined running this bed and breakfast with the man who was my husband at the time, Brad.

But life had other plans. Or, Brad did.

I don't run this place alone, though. Far from it. My bestie, Chloe, cleans for me three afternoons a week. My three aunts all live on the island, and they're always chipping in somehow or another. I have a bookkeeper, Frank, and a few part-time employees. And there's Kai. He's become someone I lean on for repairs and upkeep, even though I probably shouldn't depend on him as much as I do. I trust him, though. And when it comes to home repairs, being able to count on someone not to cheat me or overcharge me, and to know what they are doing … Well, that's Kai. For now, at least.

"Aunt Chloe!" Noah shouts as if she's out on the front porch, not ten feet away from him.

"Hey, Super Noah, what's new today?" Chloe takes a seat next to Noah, showering him with her undivided attention, as usual. They are two peas in a pod, those two.

Noah fills Chloe in on his school day and the All-About-Me project, giving her way more details than he offered me when he got home. I serve up cookies on two plates, then I pour milk for each of them. They chat away, taking bites interspersed in their stream of words. I lean back on the counter, cherishing the sight of my son and one of his favorite people on earth, both of them far more confident and outgoing than I am by nature.

"Hey, think I could grab a minute with your mom while you put away your backpack?" Chloe asks Noah after they've each devoured two cookies apiece.

"Sure, Aunt Chloe." Noah pops off the barstool and grabs his bag without another word.

"So …" Chloe turns to me. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason. At all. Really. Just … checking on you."

"I'm fine. We have a new couple here today. Two more guests coming in whenever the late ferry lands. Are you okay?"

"I'm great. I just wanted to make sure. I'm glad you're good."

"You are acting weird. Even for you."

Chloe laughs. "Yeah. I am. Don't mind me. I'll just put these dishes in the washer and get to work. Oh! And what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Probably the usual. Serving dinner here, putting Noah to bed. Grabbing my Kindle and a cup of tea and curling up with a romance novel."

"Sounds good. Only, could you change your plans if I wanted to … let's say … have a girls' night?"

"A girls' night?"

"Yeah. You know? A night where friends get together without guys and hang out together. Maybe watch a movie. Go dancing. Eat out. Something to break the monotony. What do you say? I think Alana's back in town. We could invite her and Harry."

Harry, as in Harriet, another friend I've known my whole life. She's a painter and she lives a few blocks over.

"Who will watch Noah?"

"One of your fairy godmothers. You know they will. Let me see if Jasmin can cover the front desk so you can get away for a few hours."

"I can talk to Jasmin. Don't worry."

"Okay. So, we're set. Girls' night. Saturday."

Chloe makes a little squealing sound and bounces on her toes. It's a little over the top, and out of character. Something's off with her today. I just can't tell what.

"You sure you're okay?" I double check.

"Yeah. Yeah. Just … you know. Thinking about how life can change. And how things that aren't what you may have been expecting can happen. And if that's ever the case, I'm glad we have one another."

"Spill it."

"Spill what?" Chloe avoids my eyes, which means for sure she's hiding something.

"Whatever is changing that I'm going to need you to help me get through."

"Um. Nothing is changing for sure. It's just a rumor. So, let's … just forget I said anything."

"Which will be easy to do, since you haven't said anything. But you are going to say something. You can't just come in here all, ‘Are you okay?' and then turn around and start cleaning rooms as if you didn't just set the stage for some mystery. I'll go bonkers. I mean, my mind will run the gamut from something amazing to something catastrophic. Like, what if Brad were coming back?"

I chuckle. The thought is preposterous, but my brain would go there. No doubt.

"So spill."

Chloe's face blanches.

"Good afternoon." My aunt, Phyllis, says from the kitchen doorway, saving Chloe from answering—for now. I'll circle back, for sure.

"Hey. What brings you here?" I ask Aunt Phyllis.

"I can't stop in on my niece?"

"You definitely can. It's just that you usually don't simply drop in out of the blue. Want a cookie? I just pulled a batch out of the oven."

"I'd love one. I could smell those from all the way out on the front porch. They're magic."

I grab a cookie for Phyllis as she slides onto a stool. She and Chloe exchange a look.

"What is going on?" I ask both of them.

"Just checking in on you," Phyllis says in a tone I'm sure is meant to be nonchalant, but comes off slightly high-pitched and very telling. She was in the movies ages ago. Her acting skills are far better than the show she's putting on right now.

"Funny, that's exactly what Chloe was doing. Why is everyone checking in on me?"

"Hey, everybody," Aunt Joan says from the doorway.

"Joan?" Phyllis asks her sister. "I thought I was coming over here."

"What do you mean? We decided I would be the one."

"No. We clearly said I would stop by Mila's place and you would ask around at Corner Market."

"Ask what?" I ask.

No one seems to remember I'm even here.

"Hey, sweeties!" My Aunt Connie sidles up next to Joan.

Joan looks over at Connie. "I thought you were going to C-Side to ask Clarissa what she knows."

"I thought you were going to C-Side and Phyllis was going to Corner Market and I was coming here. Remember? We sorted it by age."

"Yes. And I'm the oldest," Phyllis says. "I'm the one who was given legal custody of Mila when she came to live with us. So I was the one coming here."

"You're always pulling that card, Phyl. It's not right. We all raised her. Am I right, Mila?" Connie looks over at me with a pleading look.

"You all did raise me. And would someone, for the love, tell me what is going on around here?"

All four sets of eyes fix on me, as if I just appeared out of nowhere.

No one speaks.

I cross my arms and make eye contact with each of the women gathered in my kitchen in turn. These are my people. I'd do anything for any one of them. And they've got a secret, obviously—one they are doing a lousy job of hiding from me.

"It's just a rumor, dear," Phyllis says.

"Yes. Complete gossip. Probably unfounded," Joan adds.

"I'd guess someone has their facts wrong." Connie nods along.

I land on Chloe. She steps toward me, placing her hand on my shoulder. She takes a deep breath. Her face softens.

"Someone heard something about Brad. He's supposedly expanding his second-hand sports equipment business to include watersports. And … well … Ashley heard from Dan. And then she told Brynn. And Brynn said something to Abbie. And Abbie told me. So … it's basically a game of telephone. Probably nothing."

Brad. Noah's dad, aka, my ex. Not really Noah's dad, if by dad you mean someone who raises a child as a parent. But Brad is definitely the man who got me pregnant. We don't talk. We haven't talked since I was pregnant.

Brad and I married after college. High school sweethearts. We grew up here together. He and I had dreams. Those dreams never included children. And I thought I was okay with that. Until the day I found out I was pregnant. We had done all the things to make sure we wouldn't conceive, but Noah had other plans. He's too full of life not to be born into this world. He's a gift—one I didn't know I needed or wanted until that day. When I took that test and saw the plus sign staring back at me, my heart swelled with unexpected joy.

Naively, I assumed Brad would have the same change of heart. Maybe we had been selfish or unaware. We hadn't realized how awesome being parents could actually be. Things change. Plans change. We could change with this new information—this beautiful news. Up until I peed on that stick, the idea of kids was just that—an idea. But that morning, it became my reality. And I figured the reality would be something that would inspire us to pivot.

Only, Brad didn't react the way I had hoped. He was angry, asking if I had sabotaged our plans in secret. He accused me of skipping a pill. We tried to work through his initial reaction, which was beyond surprising to me. But his stance never changed. I never wanted children, Mila. I still don't. I can still hear his voice, see his face, the day he made that final declaration along with the announcement that he was filing for divorce and moving to the mainland to start a business—without me.

And just like that, I was a single mom who had recently inherited an island property she was converting to an inn. But I've never truly been alone. My aunts and Chloe and other people on Marbella have been alongside me from that day forward.

"Why would Brad branching into watersports equipment be of any concern to me?"

My voice is hushed. Noah is home. We never speak of his dad. I've regularly told him that he has a dad. I tell him his dad left because he was not the kind of man who knew how to keep his promises. I make sure Noah knows it had nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with Noah. But really, that conversation only comes up on occasion, because Noah has a full life with extended family and a sweet network of support, and Brad is not interested in being a part of it.

Noah knows in a general way that his dad left to choose a life for himself, but he doesn't know—nor will he ever—that his dad left because he didn't want him. That's Brad's loss. And I'll never let it be Noah's.

"Wellllll …" Chloe's hand is still on my shoulder. "The rumor—and, again, it's just a rumor—is that Brad's coming here. Opening a watersports rental and resale on Marbella."

"Here?"

"It's just a rumor, dear," Connie says.

"Definitely. Most likely hearsay," Joan echoes.

"Agreed. Speculative at best," Connie adds.

And with each confirmation of improbability, I'm less convinced.

I don't know if I'm breathing.

Phyllis scoots one of the barstools over and I plop onto it. Numb. That's what I am. I can't feel my feet, my hands, my head. I'm a swirly mess of confusion. I'm floating over the room, looking down on this scene as if I'm being suspended over my own body.

Is this right? It can't be. Why would Brad come back to Marbella? Noah's here. I'm here. Brad doesn't want Noah. Why would he pick the one place he's bound to run into the son he disowned and the wife he abandoned? There are plenty of places along the coast where he can build that aspect of his business and flourish.

"Probably just a rumor!" Joan repeats overly enthusiastically.

"Yes! Yes! Agreed. You know how people are," Connie adds emphatically. "They hear one thing and then they add a little when they pass it on. Or they get confused. It's probably nothing. Or just a mix-up."

I expect Phyllis to say something equally dismissive and comforting, but she doesn't. She just stares at me.

"What do you think?" I ask her.

"I think it's never wise to go building houses in the clouds. We don't know what's happening. And we were supposed to find out the facts before we came to you." She glares lovingly at her sisters. The look she gives is still pretty intimidating, but there's no bite to her. "But we botched that royally. So now, we need to find out what's really going on. And you don't need to borrow trouble from tomorrow. Just serve your guests. Take care of Noah, and forget all about all of this. It may be hearsay. And if it isn't, who's to say you'll even see him if he builds a business here? He may not even come to the island. He may have someone else run it for him. The world is full of possibilities. We don't need to line them up and stress over each one in turn as if they are already happening."

I take a deep breath. Phyllis is right.

I'm going to be fine.

I look Chloe in the eyes. "I'll be fine."

"Of course you will. You're a boss babe. You own a freaking inn. You parent Noah like a champ. You'll be fine."

"Like a champ? Really?"

We both burst into much needed laughter.

"Whatever," Chloe says, still smiling with residual amusement. "I was under pressure. I wasn't prepared to have to give a spur of the moment pep talk. You're a great mom. Okay?" She pauses and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And you will be fine. More than fine."

I smile at my best friend.

Most days, I don't give Brad a second thought. He's a part of my history—someone I left in my past while I moved forward to build a life for Noah and myself. Of course, the briefest thought of him flits through my mind on occasion, like today, when Noah said he was putting my name down under the section for "parents" on his project. Even then, I just thought, I am both your parents. Or, at least I do my best to fill in the blanks.

But now? Now, I'm thinking of Brad. I'll probably barely be able to think of anything else until I know the details of his plans for certain.

What if Brad actually is coming to Marbella?