The Rosewood Diary Read online

  The Rosewood Diary

  Driftwood Bay: Book 1

  Teri Blake

  The Rosewood Diary

  * * *

  Copyright © 2020 by Teri Blake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Also by Teri Blake

  Quin is about to lose all that was good about her history.

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  She never planned to return to Rosewood House, but now she’s coming back at her sister’s urgent request. When time runs out much faster than she imagined, Quin finds herself lost and alone.

  * * *

  As friends appear—including one rabbit with attitude—to support and help her deal with the truths her sister left behind, Quin must decide if there is healing in letting go of her past. Will her routine existence in New York lead her back to what is normal, or will the calming waves and her sister’s nurse, Paxton, be what her heart has been longing for?

  Chapter One

  Why couldn’t planes ever be on time? Quin Morris scowled up at the flickering cancellation board in the airport terminal as helplessness settled on her shoulders. Didn’t the airline understand she didn’t want to be traveling anyway? Her phone buzzed in her purse and she fished for it, then whipped it out with a sigh.

  Ryla: Hey sis, I can’t remember what time you said you’d be coming in. Not feeling up to renting a car to pick you up. Can you get one at the airport?

  Really? First the plane and now this? She’d rearranged her whole art tour to visit her sister and she couldn’t even manage to rent a car and meet her at the airport? And didn’t Ryla have a car? Last time she’d been to visit, Ryla had a little electric thing but she didn’t like to drive. Not so long had passed since her last visit...

  Quin pulled her planner from her messenger bag and flipped through the colorful pages. Months of flips took her a moment to hunt down the week on her calendar. Seven months had passed since she’d last visited Ryla at Rosewood House on the North Carolina shore.

  Remembering the name of her parents’ former coastal home brought back all sorts of memories. Beach summers. Sandcastles. Flipflops and boardwalks. Most of all, Ryla was always there. Rosewood just wasn’t home without her.

  Dad had put a sign on the front door when she was ten. The veins of blue and green in the wood had intrigued her. Rosewood House, the place where all her memories would live forever. Even if her parents didn’t anymore.

  Her thumb hovered over the screen on her phone, then she flipped to past text conversations. She and Ryla had gone weeks without talking more than superficially. About three months before, the conversation had slowed to a trickle and only when Ryla had reached out. Before that, they’d at least texted once a week. Phone calls had been regular.

  A moment of guilt stabbed her. Ryla was a homebody. She didn’t go to parties or invite close friends over for supper. In the closed, creative lifestyle Quin had created, she’d let Ryla fall by the wayside. Why could she never quite manage to keep both going?

  Quin: I don’t know when I’ll be getting in. My flight has been postponed and I’m waiting for a new plane. I don’t even know if the rental place will be open by the time I get there.

  With any kind of luck, that would convince her sister to come pick her up. After hours of travel, people, and airports, she didn’t want to deal with driving an hour to the beach house. Ryla didn’t even work so one drive shouldn’t be overly stressful.

  Someone bumped into her, sending her latte and planner flying. Quin landed on her knees as her suitcase rolled on of its own accord. “Hey! Careful!” She reached for her bag, barely missing it as it trundled past the point of no return.

  “Sorry. I’ve got it.” The man who’d hit her shoved his phone in his pocket and raced after the bag, slipped in the coffee, and slid, landing on his rear in the puddle with a muffled “oof.”

  Nobody ever seemed to watch where they were going. This guy had to have had his head buried in his phone and barely noticed the mess he’d caused. “You really shouldn’t walk and text at the same time,” she said as she shoved her own phone into her pocket. She’d been on her device too, but she’d been paying attention.

  “Sorry. You were meandering to the side. I tried to avoid you, but…” He shrugged as he tried to stand and winced as he raised off the floor. “Let me replace your coffee.” He tugged up his jeans and craned his neck to see if his rear was wet.

  “You don’t have to do that.” She didn’t need him hanging around any longer than necessary. If only airports weren’t so busy. Now people were staring at them.

  The only thing she ever wanted people to stare at was her artwork. Even the clothing she wore was understated to try to keep people from looking at her. “It was just a coffee. Forget about it.” Her face felt flaming hot. She stood in the center of the aisle, unable to move or decide what to do next.

  He finished jogging to get her bag and planner, then delivered them back. “I really am sorry. I tried to avoid you, but I was having an important text with my wife and I got distracted. My daughter is coming…eminently…and now my flight is delayed.” He scratched his head. “I hate traveling for work. I promised my wife I’d be home in time for the birth.”

  Her problems seemed pretty light in comparison. She had a little embarrassment; he had a baby on the way. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll take my own advice and pay attention better.” She shoved her planner back into her carry-on feeling the sting of guilt. “Good luck on the birth of your daughter. I hope you make it home in time.” She walked away before he could answer.

  Her phone buzzed again, and she veered off into an empty boarding zone to take the call. “Quin.”

  “Hey, baby. I just wanted you to know that I got the placement all set for your feature at the Cincinnati Art Museum. Are you sure you won’t be able to be here? We’ve worked for years to get a spot here. This is your time to shine. A few hours spent here could make you.”

  She’d begged Ryla to reschedule this visit so she could be at the show to see her art on display. This museum was her dream come true because their whole family had gone on a trip to see it when she was six. That trip had forever changed her life. She’d wanted to be an artist ever since. Aside from some pictures Ben promised, she wouldn’t be there to witness it.

  “I’ll just have to get even better so they invite me back.” Not that there was much hope of that happening with her recent slump. None of the colors seemed to spark her mind like usual. She couldn’t see the distinct colors and shapes as she always had.

  Ryla had said the timing couldn’t change, no matter what was going on in Quin’s life. There was too much that needed to be said, and if the trip got postponed, it may never happen. They hadn’t gotten together in a while, but that prediction felt a little out of hand. I
t wasn’t like she never came home. Seven months was closer to half a year than never.

  “I can’t even take a day to fly there. My sister asked that I please put family first for once. Guilted me. I just can’t come.” Ryla would never know Quin had tossed her under the bus. This mess was on her, she’d been the one who was inflexible.

  Ben laughed. “Well, I’ll take a lot of pictures for you. I’m sure your parents will too.”

  The injustice hit deep. Why wasn’t Ryla making the whole family come to this little reunion? Why only her? Her parents would get to be there, but not her. “I’m sure you three will have a blast without me.”

  Quin hung up and headed toward her new departure gate. Hopefully, someone would be there who could tell her when another plane would be available and when she could leave. But when she reached her gate, the whole area was dark and empty.

  Great. She rolled her bag to a seat and flopped down in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to it. Nothing like an unplanned delay when she was going somewhere she didn’t want to be. After a minute of rummaging in her purse, she fished her phone charger out and plugged it in, then looked up the Cincinnati Museum website.

  On the front page, her name was featured as the headline prominently at the top. Below it, her abstract paintings and cityscapes came up on a carousel for people to flip through. This was her big break, and she would miss it. There was always hope of getting another invite, but those were rare. Few artists got famous before they died, but she’d been incredibly lucky—though Mom would call it pure talent—to get a lucrative contract that put her name in front of a lot of people. Since then, doors had opened.

  But would they continue to if she didn’t make it to her own shows? Buyers wanted to rub shoulders with the artist, so they had a story to tell to go along with the painting. They wouldn’t make that connection now. She glanced over the one-week museum schedule, hoping to see something she hadn’t before. Maybe there would be a few hours she could slip away, make a quick flight there and back…

  Except just getting to the airport from Rosewood House took an hour. Even once she made it to Cincinnati, she’d have to get to the museum then be there for the whole show. She’d be gone all day and Ryla had told her to keep the whole week open.

  She tried to remember other times when she’d put her work before her sister, and nothing came immediately to mind. A text from an unknown number popped up.

  Unknown: Hey, you don’t know me, but my name is Paxton Daniels and I live next door to Ryla. She’s stressing over trying to get a car to pick you up. She doesn’t have one and she’s not well enough to go get one. Please send her a text and relieve her of this obligation.

  Paxton? Ryla had never mentioned a neighbor who stood up for her like a…boyfriend? Quin rushed to text her sister.

  Who’s Paxton?

  Before Ryla could respond, Paxton sent another text.

  Paxton: She’s resting and I’m here watching her phone. I need you to send her a text saying she doesn’t have to come. I’m not going to let her anyway, but this way she won’t have to feel guilty about it.

  Wow. Paxton was a bulldog guarding her sister. If only he wasn’t standing directly in the way of her current needs. Even if her plane suddenly appeared at the gate that instant, whisked her inside, and raced off down the tarmac, she’d arrive too late in the evening to rent a car. At Norfolk International, the car rentals closed right after the last flight of the day.

  Quin: Unless you want to come pick me up, I’m going to need her to come. My other option is just changing my flight and heading to Cincinnati where I’m needed anyway.

  Not that he would know about her situation or her travel plans. Ryla had never mentioned this guy. Literally never mentioned a neighbor of any kind. Why did this guy have to start texting her now?

  Paxton: Fine. Text me at this number when you know your arrival time and I’ll be there to pick you up.

  A picture came through of a guy in a polo shirt with a big smile. The logo on the image said Farris Health. Ryla had managed to snag someone in the health industry? Maybe that was what all this secrecy was about. She was going to announce a wedding or something.

  Quin: Thanks. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.

  She sent a text off to Ryla letting her know her boyfriend was coming to the airport to pick her up. As she sent off the text, the lights came on at the gate and a woman in a blue uniform nodded her way but said nothing as she went about cleaning the desk with a disinfecting wipe.

  The new flight time appeared on the board a moment later and Quin gathered her bag and unplugged her phone. People seemed to appear out of nowhere and filled the little gate, spaced out as people do.

  Quin’s phone buzzed one last time as she flipped it to silent and airplane mode.

  Paxton: I’m not her boyfriend. Don’t forget to let me know.

  Heat burned up her cheeks. She was always the one of the two sisters to do something stupid. He had literally just sent her a text, she’d known he was reading Ryla’s messages, so why had she said anything?

  She quickly sent him the new arrival info and told him she’d have her phone off until she arrived. Mostly so she wouldn’t have to hear from Paxton again. The last hour had left her with more questions about her sister than ever before. What had happened to her car? Who was this guy that just tucked her sister into bed, but wasn’t her man? Why was it so urgent that she come to visit right away but not her parents? And why can’t I ever do anything normal?

  Maybe she’d learn to slow down and think about all her questions at some point, but that day was not today.

  Chapter Two

  Considering how late the plane touched down, the parking lot of the airport looked surprisingly full from her window seat on the plane. Quin pressed her forehead against the glass and fought the urge to analyze what she would be walking into.

  Ryla had grown more distant, which was hard because, as sisters, they’d been close since Ryla was born. Who else could share the most intimate details of her life? Like the fact that Ben had been her undesignated boyfriend for years, took care of all the management of her artwork, and practically worshiped the ground she walked on…but she didn’t love him. She wasn’t so sure he loved her either. He was often fake. Even his most recent call smacked more of childish admiration than affection.

  Quin grabbed her rolling bag off the conveyor belt and headed for the exit, hoping Paxton would know what she looked like. If he’d been digging through Ryla’s phone, he might know more about her than he should. She reached the entrance where people waited spread out for passengers to arrive.

  One guy caught her eye who looked similar to the picture Paxton had sent. He was a few years older than her, but not many. His brown hair had a nice wave and subtle stubble made his angular jaw stand out. He leaned against the wall with an inconspicuous sleepy ease to him that made her wonder why he was there.

  He pushed away from the wall and headed for her. That ease he’d projected against the wall was evident in the way he moved too, confident, all the way to her. She stood holding her breath and waiting for him to say something.

  “You Quin Morris?”

  She couldn’t speak for a moment. This was Paxton? The guy who’d been texting her? The polo picture hadn’t done him justice. Why couldn’t Ben look like him?

  She nodded slightly and licked her lips, unable to find her voice. He grasped the handle of her rolling bag and brushed her hand away as he headed for the door. “Sorry, no curbside pickup or limo for you.”

  Ouch. She flinched. Did he really think she was that much of a diva, just because she’d wanted her sister to pick her up from the airport? Especially when Ryla had been the one to beg her to come? “I didn’t expect a limo. I’m here to see my sister.”

  He pushed through the exit and held the door for her. “If we hurry, you just might get to.”

  Her heart pulsed as her jaw dropped. “What do you mean by that? You sound like some kind of s
erial killer.”

  “I’m her neighbor, but more than that…I’m her head hospice nurse.”

  Her knees buckled and she hit the pavement before Paxton even realized there was an issue. “What did you just say?” Hospice meant she was reaching the end of life. Comfort care. Every cold phrase she’d ever heard blasted through her head, blocking out his response. It wasn’t necessary anyway. She’d heard him. Belief and hearing were two separate things. People parted to walk around her and turned to stare. For once, she didn’t care.

  “How? She didn’t tell me she was sick.” Was it cancer? Wouldn’t Ryla tell her if she’d had chemo? Was that why she didn’t have a car?

  “She’s not really sick as much as her heart is failing. She’s had heart trouble since her teens.”

  Quin’s recall of history was murky when it came to Ryla’s various medical conditions. She remembered there being some doctor visits when she’d left for college, but no one ever told her the outcome. She’d assumed nothing was wrong. “Her heart is failing? Like, not just bothering her, it’s failing? Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “The same reason she’s not telling your parents. She doesn’t want to worry you. About three months ago, we almost lost her to a cardiac event. I convinced her then to at least reach out to you. Surprisingly, she fought me. I made her choose you or her parents. She chose you.”

  Mom and Dad didn’t know. Ryla had chosen her, but why? The idea should be comforting, but it only caused more questions to spring up. Her knees had no ability to hold her up and Paxton had to help her up off the ground. Though his arm was strong and reassuring, it wasn’t enough.