With shaky hands, she managed to pull up Ty’s number on her cell phone and hit the Call button.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service . . .”
Sniffing back the tears, she tried it three more times before giving up.
“What have you done, Ty?” Sophia whispered while staring at the phone in disbelief.
Frozen accounts. IRS tax levy. Federal investigation. With those unfamiliar words the bank president had shared on the phone whirling through the tangles of her muddled mind, Sophia leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and tried to cry as quietly as possible.
4
So far, Sunset Cove was living up to its small coastal town charm. It was quiet and most folks kept to themselves. Most folks, that was, with the exception of a small group of old ladies. Wes had nicknamed them the beauty-shop hens. About a half dozen in total, with bouffant hair and too many questions. They’d been showing up randomly at his door to share covered dishes, baked goods, and servings of gossip ever since he arrived in town. It was easy to brush off the clucking the first week, but then they started dropping tidbits that included him to a certain degree along with one other person. Namely, Sophia Grace Prescott was attached to near about every conversation.
Huffing in frustration, Wes picked up his pace into a sprint while dodging beachgoers. It was Wednesday, and Doc had always closed at noon on Wednesdays. It was church night and most people seemed not to have colds and such on that particular day, according to the older doctor. Wes kept the original schedule, but he didn’t like the idle time it left on his hands, so he moved his morning run to noon on Wednesdays to help combat it. Too bad he couldn’t outrun his thoughts this particular day.
“Sophia Grace is the ex-wife of that celebrity NFL player Ty Prescott.”
“Sophia was an uppity PR consultant in North Carolina until they fired her.”
“It was all over the news about their split.”
“He cheated.”
“A nasty divorce.”
“She was photographed with numerous bruises and a busted lip earlier this year.”
Every shared snippet from the beauty-shop hens had been delivered with either a clucking of their tongues or a “bless her heart” tagged to the end. He’d not turned on a TV in years and never had time or tolerance for social media, so Wes had no idea who Ty Prescott was. Nor did he really care. And he certainly didn’t care who Sophia Prescott was either, until the rumor mill shared with him about her smear campaign on social media earlier this week. The hens claimed she was telling everyone he was a bad doctor and encouraging parents to take their children to the pediatric office over in the next town.
Wes had agreed to come to Sunset Cove when Doc assured him peace and quiet would be his neighbors, but the mouthy brunette was making that unattainable. If he couldn’t figure out a way to keep those hens at bay and Sophia’s mouth shut, he was ready to pack up and make a run for it. Problem was, he had nowhere to go.
His Apple Watch alerted him that he’d reached another mile, so he looped around to head back to the beach house. Once the house was in sight, he slowed his pace to a leisurely jog to cool down, progressing to a walk as he rounded the side of his house. Mopping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, Wes came to a halt at the sight of a giant SUV haphazardly parked—half in the Coles’ driveway and half in his. Through the dark-tinted window he could make out a woman resting her head on the steering wheel. Moving closer, he caught a glimpse of a small child sleeping in his car seat in the back.
Wes had a pretty good idea of who the woman was, and he had a pretty good idea it was in his best interest to walk away. She’d not seen him, so no harm, no foul. But his mind didn’t relay the message to his hand fast enough, and before he realized it, he was gently tapping his knuckles against the driver’s window.
Sophia jumped, her head jerking up to look at him, but quickly turned away and dug around in her bag until producing those giant sunglasses. She slid on what he was beginning to realize was her shield before opening her window.
“Hello, Sophia,” he greeted quietly, not wanting to disturb Collin or startle her again.
“Hi,” she rasped, sounding more than a little addled.
Wes considered her and the situation, at a loss on what to do. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as her bottom lip trembled. Clearly she was upset about something. Too upset to be driving around, as evidenced by the mushed palm plant underneath her rear tire. But what to do? He glanced toward his house, not wanting to invite them in. Every fiber of his being screamed to run, to stay out of the woman’s business, but he remained rooted beside her car door.
“Has Collin been sleeping long?”
“No . . .” She sniffled.
“He’d be more comfortable lying down, instead of in that cramped seat.” Wes regarded his house once again and then glanced at Collin. The little guy’s head lobbed to the side at what seemed to be an uncomfortable angle. “Why don’t you bring him inside to finish out his nap?”
“Opal . . . ,” Sophia began, sounding disoriented but sober.
Wes scanned the neighbor’s driveway even though he already knew it was empty. “There’s no one home.”
“Oh . . .” Sophia’s shoulders managed to slump further as she dropped her chin.
“Maybe Opal will be home soon. You’re welcome to come inside and wait for her.” He opened Sophia’s door, hoping to encourage her to exit.
“Okay.” She slid out and slowly shuffled to the back to gather the diaper bag and then the toddler. Without saying anything, she headed up his porch and waited by the door.
Wes reached around the steering wheel to turn off the SUV and then closed the two doors Sophia had left ajar before following. He ushered her inside and led her to the first-floor guest room.
“I’ll let you get him settled,” he whispered before taking the stairs two at a time up to his room. He swapped the sweaty tee for a fresh one and washed his face and hands. Knowing he couldn’t hide in his room from whatever was going on, he went back downstairs and found Sophia sitting at the breakfast nook table.
The giant sunglasses still covered most of her face, and Wes noticed she was dressed in a shroud of baggy black. He recalled how radiant she had been at the party in that elegant floral print dress with her hair brushed in long dark waves. No doubt, the woman was a knockout, and he could just bet she was a pro at lighting up a room by flashing those vivid blue eyes. Too bad something had dimmed her. Slumped at his table, she looked so defeated that he had a feeling those abuse rumors might have actually been derived from the truth. A pang of empathy clenched his abdomen.
Clearing his throat to announce his return, Wes walked over to the fridge and retrieved a pitcher filled with water and sliced lemons. “Would you care for a glass?” He held up the pitcher.
“Okay,” Sophia answered without turning away from gazing out the bay windows. It was a tranquil view of the ocean with the sun casting a glitter on top of the water. He’d hoped she was finding some solace in it.
Wes placed a glass on the table in front of Sophia before sitting across from her. They sipped their water in silence until his glass was empty and hers halfway. His eyes slid to the clock above the mantel to check the time. Forty minutes had passed and yet she remained in her zombie state.