Dakota rushed into her father’s arms, her tears wetting his shirt. He smelled of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice aftershave.
At least that hasn’t changed.
“Why are you limping, Dad?” Dakota asked. “Is everything all right?”
“My right knee has been a little gimpy. Just part of old age. Nothing to worry about.” Her father held her at arm’s length, his eyes glistening. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve fixed us some dinner and spruced up the place.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” She sniffled. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is!” He hugged her to him again. “I hope you plan on staying more than a day or two this time.”
“Actually, I thought I might stay for a few weeks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “The station made some cutbacks, and I lost my job. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang out here until I figure things out.”
“These big companies are cutting their workforces everywhere you look,” he grumbled, his wiry salt-and-pepper eyebrows gathering. His devastating layoff was still a sore subject for her father. “I’m sorry, Dakota. I know how much you loved that job.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
It was a gracious thing for her father to say since he’d never wanted her to move so far away or to go into television. He’d spent the majority of his life in their small town. His distrust of big cities had been solidified by his older sister’s death at the hands of a mugger a few years after she’d moved to Detroit. And he’d been worried about Dakota going into a male-dominated industry that relied so heavily upon one’s looks.
“Doesn’t matter what brought you here, Dakota. I’m just glad you’re home.”
“Ahem.” Sin cleared her throat as she lugged the large suitcase behind her with one arm and toted the heavy picnic basket with the other.
“Sorry, Sin.” Dakota grabbed the picnic basket, while her father grabbed her luggage.
He chuckled when he discovered how heavy it was. “Guess you weren’t joshing about staying for a while.” He turned to Sin and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. “Thank you for bringing my girl home. Best surprise I’ve had in a mighty long time.”
“I told you we’d get her back here eventually,” Sinclair whispered loudly.
“I can hear you two. You know that, right?” Dakota called over her shoulder as she climbed the porch stairs.
“Umm-hmm. And we don’t even care,” Sin taunted.
“Are those your famous fried pork chops and prize-winning blackberry cobbler I smell?” Oliver nodded toward the basket.
“The very same, sir,” Sin said proudly. “And I made Dakota’s favorite, too. Lemon meringue pie.”
“Then I hope you plan on staying to help us eat it.”
Dakota’s cheeks tightened in a big, genuine smile that she could feel all the way down to her toes. She exhaled, drinking in the sense of comfort that settled over her and eased the tension in her shoulders for the first time since her world had imploded three months earlier.
Her heart wasn’t racing and her teeth weren’t clenched. She felt centered and calm as she stood on the wraparound porch of the home where she’d grown up, despite the gentle teasing of her father and her childhood best friend.
She couldn’t hide out here forever, and she had no intention of giving up her dream of being the lead news anchor in a major market. But maybe spending a few weeks back on Holly Grove Island wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
Chapter Two
Dakota’s eyes fluttered open as the sun warmed her face. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and danced around the room. She surveyed the space for a moment before it registered that she was back home in her old bedroom.
It was a separate suite on the third floor of the large Victorian home. Larger than her cozy little prewar apartment with original floors in the East Village that she’d been forced to sublet. The apartment had barely been as big as a postcard. But it had been all hers, and she’d adored it. Letting go of the place had broken Dakota’s heart.
An additional insult to the growing list of injuries.
She stretched and kicked one foot out from beneath the covers. At thirty-four she was living back home with her father, her career in shambles and her love life a complete disaster.
Terrific. She was really going places. Dakota sifted through her luggage, grabbed her toiletries and some fresh clothes, then headed for the bathroom.
After her shower, she took a half hour to check her LinkedIn profile and review the job alerts she’d set up on various career boards. Something she’d done nearly every morning since losing her job three months ago. A task that took much longer given the turtle speed of her father’s internet service. Then she made her way downstairs in a T-shirt, a pair of old shorts, and her bare feet. The smell of coffee, blueberry pancakes, and bacon wafted throughout the house. She smiled as she crossed the kitchen and kissed her father on the cheek.
“Everything looks good. Smells good, too. Since when do you cook?” The words struck her as soon as they’d left her mouth, and a pained look crinkled her father’s eyes. Her mother had done all of the cooking. What choice did her father have but to learn to cook for himself now that she was gone? “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, baby girl.” Oliver smiled at her warmly. “I know what you meant. Go on and have a seat. I’ll fix you a plate.”
Dakota slid onto the kitchen chair, her cheeks stinging with heat as an uncomfortable silence settled around them.
Her father set her plate on the table and handed her a fork and knife. After he’d set down his own plate and silverware, he placed the blueberry maple syrup in front of her and a bottle of sugar-free syrup near his plate.
He sat down and nodded toward her still untouched food. “What, you don’t trust your old man’s culinary abilities?”
“Of course I do.” Dakota snickered, picking up her fork. She cut into the light, fluffy pancakes, and took a bite. The pancakes melted in her mouth, and a hint of lemon melded with the fresh blueberries. “Dad, this is really good. Like…”
“Mom’s?” Her father chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly the highest compliment I could hope for. Especially since your mom spent the months immediately following her diagnosis teaching me to cook. She insisted that a man living alone needed to be able to cook for himself. I think she was afraid I’d marry the first woman who showed up on my steps with a hot meal if I couldn’t.”
“Sounds like Mom. Determined to control things, even from the great beyond.”
Oliver laughed. “Your mother was a very organized and determined woman. That’s for sure. It’s one of the things I loved most about her. It’s one of the things I love most about you, too.” He winked at her.
“I thought my stubbornness drove you crazy.” Dakota recalled their last big argument.
He’d rented a U-Haul to collect her things from her college dorm and drive her home after her graduation ceremony. That was when she told him she’d landed a paid internship at a television station in New York, so she wouldn’t be returning home. She was moving into a tiny apartment with four roommates—two of whom were male. It was the angriest she’d ever seen her father. Still, she’d stuck to her resolve.