LJ Maas - Rebecca’s Cove

lived. It’s surviving, not living. You would get so much more satisfaction if you took an occasional chance. Give what you fear a chance, just once.”

“I didn’t want to be this way, you know. I never saw it happening.”

“It isn’t that uncommon to miss the forest for the trees. The real question is, what will you do about it now that you know?”

“Change,” BJ said quickly. “I’m not going to let that son of a bitch do this. I won’t let him beat me.”

“It won’t be easy, dear heart.”

“Hey, I’m an ex-smoker.” BJ wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell me about hard.” She took her grandmother’s hand. “This is me we’re talking about. I mean, will I be able to change?”

“You’re not going to become a saint overnight. In fact, some of your haughty behavior got you where you are today, so you shouldn’t be in such a hurry to let it go. Besides, my dear, I suspect that you’ve already begun to change more than you know.”

BJ thought about the times over the last few weeks that she’d questioned her own behavior. There were times when she wondered why she was doing something so out of character for her. Was that why? Had she already begun to change?

“Now that you have all this newfound enlightenment,” Evelyn gave BJ a teasing smile, “would you like to rethink your confrontation with Hobie yesterday? Was she really the ogre you painted her out to be? Perhaps both of you ought to take a little blame for the words you spoke in anger.”

BJ didn’t answer. As much as she wanted to deny any responsibility for her fight with Hobie, a voice in the back of her mind said that she might have had a share, albeit a very small one, in the quarrel.

“Why don’t you think about it? Go over things a few times in your head. You’d be surprised at the magic that can happen here on Ana Lia, dear heart. I’m sure that very soon, you and Hobie will have a chance to apologize without either one of you suffering too much embarrassment or humiliation.”

“How do you know?”

Evelyn smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “Because this is Ana Lia.”

Another week passed on Ana Lia. Baylor and Hobie were still feuding, even though it was a silent fight. They avoided each other as much as possible. Hobie busied herself with work and spending time with her son. Baylor hated to admit how much she missed Noah. She sulked around the house, and Arturo, who followed her everywhere, sulked, as well.

Hobie and Baylor continued to dine at Rebecca’s Cove, each refusing to speak to the other. Most of the time, they glared over their plates. There were moments when they felt as though they had carried the whole thing on long enough. Of course, stubbornness seemed to be a trait each woman had plenty of, so neither would be the first to give in and apologize.

Baylor’s status had risen considerably on the island since Hobie had inadvertently broadcast that she was Harriet Teasley. Baylor knew her books were popular—she could tell by her royalty checks—but it seemed nearly everyone on the island owned at least one Teasley romance. Baylor attributed this to the fact that it was an island and that it was deathly hot and humid in the summer, leaving the inhabitants with plenty of leisure time.

When Katherine and Helen had cornered Baylor on the street one morning, Baylor earned points with Katherine by inquiring as to Albert’s health. The sisters made BJ promise to come in to sign a few books, and when she showed up, there was a line of people around the store waiting for her autograph.

It was strange indeed, but the fact that Baylor was a beautiful woman and had been posing as Harriet Teasley for so many years intrigued her fans. To the people on Ana Lia, she had become an islander.

Very slowly, Baylor’s impression of herself began to change.

She had been deliberating over Hobie’s comments about the Teasley novels. While Baylor knew Hobie wasn’t 100 percent correct, she realized that Hobie hadn’t been entirely wrong. Why would she be embarrassed for anyone to find out her pen name if she was proud of her work? She had learned long ago that pen names were meant to hide behind for one reason or another. Baylor hid behind Harriet Teasley’s name because she knew the writing was substandard. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t what she had dreamed of writing when she was in college.

Baylor asked herself the question that she hadn’t thought of in years: Why do I continue to write them? Was it only the money? When she was younger, she asked herself that question a great deal. The answer had always been the same, but she pushed the reasoning from her mind every time. This time, however, it stayed around to nag her. The answer had always been one word: fear.

She was afraid, plain and simple. Deep down, she was afraid that if she tried to write something else, something she really wanted to write, the world would discover Baylor Warren was a fraud. She was afraid they would see that she didn’t have any talent after all. Mostly, she was afraid that her father had been right when he had told her she would never succeed at anything.

The doubts seemed to strike most often at night when she was alone with no one to talk to. She realized that was why she had started partying and drinking in the first place. When she got drunk, she passed out when her head hit the pillow. When she picked up a girl at a club or a party, she didn’t have to sleep alone. It struck her one morning that, apart from an occasional beer, she hadn’t had much to drink since she’d been on the island.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. “Because this is Ana Lia,” she said. Her grandmother’s words had an odd feeling of comfort to them.

Ashort while later, Baylor flipped through the six channels that Evelyn’s TV received. She went through the channels repeatedly for twenty minutes. The lack of cable or satellite programming did nothing to improve her mood.

“I’ve about had it with this, Squirt.” At the sound of her voice, Arturo popped up from his spot on Baylor’s stomach. “We need to do something desperate to keep our sanity here.” She pulled the small Ana Lia telephone book from under the coffee table. She carefully punched in the number she wanted and waited.

“Telephone company? I thought this was the number to the cable TV company. Oh, you take care of cable, too. I need to get cable installed. It’s 912 Oyster Bay Road. No, it’s my grandmother. It’s okay, I’ll be paying the bill. Am I what? Fifteen thousand feet from the CO? What the hell is the CO? Oh, central office.” Baylor rubbed one hand across her face. She hadn’t quite prepared herself for ordering cable Ana Lia style.

“Okay, how would I know how far I am away from the central office? All right, do you know? The guy that comes out can tell me? Okay, that works. How about today? What? Sometime between eight and noon or one to five. Geez, you think you could make it a little more vague? Never mind. So what day? Thirty days?” she shouted. “If there is a God in heaven, I won’t be here in thirty days.”

Baylor held one hand over the receiver and shook her head at Arturo. “Civilization this ain’t!”

The voice on the other end of the line drew Baylor’s attention back to the phone. “Do I still want to order it? I tell you what, you can have them come out if they feel lucky. Maybe I’ll be here between noon and one.” She slammed the receiver back in its cradle.

Arturo whimpered and barked up at Baylor.

“You’re right. It’s become critical.” Baylor reached for her PDA. She popped open the lid and navigated her address book. She picked up the phone and smiled at Arturo. “Now we’re going to get some action, I guarantee you.”

A sweet-sounding voice answered. “Yes, Anthony Falcone, please. Yes, tell him it’s BJ Warren.” Baylor hummed along with the canned music. Does everyone use “The Girl from Ipanema”? she thought.

“Tony, compare!”

Anthony Falcone had been Baylor’s friend and partner in crime growing up. His family had money, so Baylor’s father accepted the friendship. What he didn’t know was where all that money came from. Tony’s father ran the kind of business that no one talked about, and it was probably better for their health if they didn’t. Tony took over the family business and invested in just enough legitimate businesses to keep the feds and the IRS off balance. Because Baylor’s mother had been born in Palermo, the Falcone family welcomed Baylor into their home as one of their own.

“I’m great, how about you? How are your mom and dad?” Baylor listened as he told her about his family. In the past, she would open mail or reach for a magazine when people went on about their kids or spouses. Now she found herself asking how the kids were doing in school and when the new baby was due. Tony seemed to notice the difference in her behavior, too.

“No, really, I’m fine. I’m in Florida. You remember Tanti? Well, she took sick and I came to Ana Lia Island, then I ended up breaking my leg. No, she’s not that bad and I’m good, but I have one small problem that I think you might be able to fix for me.”

Baylor sat back and put her leg up on the coffee table. “Well, here’s the story. I need one of those satellite dishes installed here at my grandmother’s house. You know, one of those big-ass things that will pick up talk shows in Bangladesh. Plus, I want it now, like today or tomorrow before I lose my sanity on this island. What do you say?”

She picked up a pen and paper and jotted down some figures and names, giving her personal information when Tony asked for it. Finally, she gave him her credit card number.