Unforgettable (Page 41)
“I hope you’re right,” I agree, taking in the gorgeous beach and foam-tipped waves rolling steadily in from the sparkling blue tide. I never imagined I could find somewhere that felt so much like home; like I belong here, building the life I’m supposed to lead. “Because right now, I don’t ever want to leave.”
I may be happy here, but my parents have other ideas. They call as I’m walking back after lunch; this time, it’s my dad, with a whole new strategy to point out just what a mess I’m apparently making of my life.
“It’s my fault, I pushed you too hard,” he says on the other end of the line. “You always did want to make me proud, and maybe I didn’t give you enough support.”
“You supported me just fine!” I reply, feeling guilty. He sounds so disappointed and hurt, I know he’s worried and just wants the best for me.
The problem is, their version of “best” looks nothing like the life I want for myself. And now that I’ve been here a couple of weeks and I’m finding my feet, I don’t want to keep having the same conversation with them, over and over again.
“Look, why don’t you come down and see for yourself,” I suggest, trying to change the script. “If you see what I’m doing with the B&B, and how I’m really making a go of this, maybe you’ll finally understand.”
“I understand just fine, sweetie,” my dad replies. “You need a break. Some time away from the stress of your career. We all feel that way sometimes, it can be a lot to handle. But you go take a vacation for a couple of weeks, you switch specialities if you need a change; you don’t uproot your life completely and turn your back on your family.”
I stop. “Is that what you think? Dad, no, it couldn’t be further from the truth. I feel like I’m coming home to family,” I tell him, trying to explain. “This town is full of memories for me, Nana, and you and Mom, back when I was a kid. I love that I get to help create new memories for someone else now.”
He sighs. “I know that town, remember, I spent eighteen years trapped in that place. And I can tell you now, it may seem like one big sunscreen commercial, but once the tourists pack up and winter comes, it’s a whole different place. You’ll be bored and lonely and wish you hadn’t left the city behind.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But it’s my choice to figure that out for myself. I really am making a go of this, Dad,” I add. “I have guests booked, and an article coming out in a big magazine. I’m not just sitting on the beach all day, I’m really working.”
“And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” he asks hopefully. “Your mom and I were thinking, even if you don’t want to sell Rose Cottage just yet, we could loan you a down payment on an apartment here in the city. Your own place—”
“Thank you, but I’m staying.” I firmly decline his new bribe. “So you can tell Mom to cancel that intervention of hers,” I add. “Come, visit, you’ll see, this is good for me. I really like it here.”
He sighs again. “I’ll talk to your mother. I have that new case on, so I won’t be able to get away for a while.”
“The murder trial?” I ask, and soon, Dad is chatting away about trial defense strategy and witness prep. I’m nearly back at the B&B by the time he’s done talking.
“It sounds like a great case. Good luck,” I tell him.
“Are you sure it doesn’t sound like something you’d want to do?” he asks again. “Because one of my associates just left, and I need someone for research and—”
“No, Dad!” I cut him off, laughing. “It doesn’t tempt me at all. I’ll call you guys next week, OK?”
“Love you.”
I hang up, feeling more relieved. He still doesn’t understand, but maybe he will in time. My parents have always been so focused on achievement: lining up our debate team trophies and sporting medals on the mantle, boasting to their friends about our college acceptance and grades. It’s the way they know they’re doing the right thing in life, measuring where they stack up. Since grade school, I’ve been on the same path with them, striving for that next award, but now, suddenly, I’ve stepped off that predictable route and gone in a totally different direction.
It’s a lot to take in.
Here in Beachwood Bay, I don’t have a quarterly performance review, or a neat ladder of promotion from associate, to junior partner, to partner to climb. I don’t get a salary bump for good work, or official warnings if things go badly. It’s scary to be out of my comfort zone like this—but it’s thrilling too. To make my own rules, and improvise when things don’t work out as planned. Finally, I don’t feel like I’m pushing at the edges of a box that can’t contain me, feeling restless and different. Instead, I wake up every morning excited to face the day ahead.
I just hope I can live up to whatever Nana saw in me when she gave me this gift. Not everyone gets a second chance like this, and I want to make her proud. Which means doing everything I can to launch Rose Cottage as a successful business, despite all the hiccups along the way.
I reach the front gate, already determined to spend the afternoon in the office, contacting more travel magazines. If Bunny’s high standards were impressed, then maybe I can tempt some more reviewers down here to write articles or profile the town. And then there are travel agents, and bloggers, maybe even regular newspapers…