Weathering the Storm: Sunrise Beach, #1

By Charlotte Golding

Stella Britton's life has been flipped upside-down. The scandal involving her now ex-husband was too much to handle. The embarrassment, money issues, and debilitating pain were things she never expected to experience. Running away seemed like the right thing to do.

Now she's in a sleepy beach town where she hopes the rumors won't find her or her surly teenaged daughter. Her biggest challenge will be guiding Kelsey through this maze of changes while trying to regain her trust.

Her next biggest challenge will be making a living. Her heart's passion has been painting, though she'd abandoned it years ago to be the proper wife to an executive husband and mom to a privileged busy daughter. She hopes her skill and creativity hasn't dried up. But even more, she hopes she can become a savvy businesswoman and sell the work that comes from her heart.

As her gallery opens for business, Stella meets a woman who becomes a mentor and friend. Unfortunately, the things Stella wants and needs to figure out most desperately are things she cannot bring herself to talk about. As she tries to manage her heavy burdens alone, the past she's left behind threatens to crash in.

Will Stella find the courage to stand up to criticism she's fought so hard to distance herself from? Or will she be forced to uproot her daughter and run again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweet River Publishing
• Release date: May 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201796525

Book preview

Weathering the Storm

Sunrise Beach - Book 1

Charlotte Golding

One

Thunder rolled loudly just as Stella Britton said his name aloud in her mind. Jeff was gone. Her eyes traced the beach she had come to know so well in just a few short months, following the curves of the rocks against the shore, waiting for the waves to strike them rhythmically yet chaotically. There was a sense of predictability in not knowing when the next wave would strike, but knowing that it was coming.

The first wave had been when Jeff was arrested. Receiving that phone call, having to drive down to the high school to take Kelsey home to explain what was going on, and that was it. She’d been the rocks. Her life and her family and her home and her career had been the rocks, and Jeff was the sea. The storm. She remembered drying her eyes in the car before going into the school so it wouldn’t look like she’d been crying. That black smudge of smeared mascara which had run from the corners of her eyes to the bottom of her chin. Stella dipped the brush in coal-colored paint, the same shade as that tear-ruined makeup, and marked a small dot for the bottom of the lighthouse.

No, that hadn’t been it. The first wave, she thought, had been when the police had shown up to her door in Atlanta and asked if her husband was home. At the time, her heart had sunk. Had something happened to him? Had he not shown up for work? Did she need to start making calls?

They’d reassured her that no, he wasn’t missing, but that they had a few questions for him. She’d given them his office address without a thought. Surely, whatever trouble was happening didn’t involve Jeff—her Jeff, who had been there for her in the toughest times of her life.

The unpredictable and sometimes violent weather of Sunrise Beach was the perfect backdrop for both Stella’s painting and her state of mind. As she watched the raging storm blow the trees nearly horizontal from the window in her studio, she knew it was time to pick up the brushes again. She squeezed dollops of dark greens, navy blues, crimson, and gray onto her pallet. Each time lightning lit up the sky, her canvas was illuminated differently. She liked that about painting in a storm. It allowed her to see her art in different ways, from different perspectives.

Now properly distracted by her own thoughts, Stella moved to sit in the window nook that overlooked the beach. It was a beautiful view, and she was grateful for having it. She counted herself lucky once again that her cousins had decided to move out of this place and were able to sell it to her for market value without a bidding war. Beach houses tended to cost a small fortune, and without her ex-husband’s fortune, that was money she didn’t have.

Thunder crashed again, this time so loud that it interrupted her thoughts. That was enough sulking, she decided. Normally, she listened to music while she painted, but Stella couldn’t think of a playlist that would be more fitting than the sound of the rain and wind.

As she painted the shoreline, Stella thought about her own point of view. This window. She’d had an art studio in her home in Atlanta, too—a much bigger one than this. This room had originally been a shed, but she and Kelsey didn’t need the extra space. The shed door opening startled her from her thoughts.

Hey, Mom?

Kelsey, she greeted, what’s up?

Just wanted to make sure you knew I came home from the mall.

She smiled. Thank you, sweetheart. You know I worry. Kelsey didn’t reply, but didn’t move, either. Are you going to bed?

"Oh, so you do know how late it is."

Yeah. Sorry. I lost track of time for a little bit, but I’ll finish up soon.

Whatever. Just don’t stay out here all night, okay?

Before she could ask if she needed anything, or thank her for coming out here, or even just say good night, Kelsey closed the door, leaving Stella all alone once more.

Embezzlement. As soon as she’d heard the word, she felt like an idiot for not knowing. Every lie flashed through her mind, and she painted them as electricity crackling in the clouds, ready to strike at any moment. The IRS claimed that it had started five years ago, but Stella was willing to bet that it was closer to eight.

When Kelsey was almost ten, her teacher had taken Stella and Jeff aside in a parent-teacher conference to tell them that their daughter was unusually bright. She was reading at a level years above her peers, and her writing was more similar to what one would expect from someone in late-junior high than from a fourth grader. She was already doing long division when the other students were barely starting their multiplication tables. It was incredible, and she’d been moved into a special class for gifted students.

That, Stella thought, was the trigger. She and Jeff had started looking at their budget again, looking for ways to scrimp and save so they could build a college fund greater than the one they’d been intending. While they had been setting aside enough money for their daughter to go to a state school, now, they wanted to give her the possibility of attending an Ivy League. Every night, after Kelsey went to bed, she and her husband would make coffee and sit at the kitchen table to discuss their funds.

I could go back to work, Stella had offered.

Stell, it’s the middle of the school year. Where are you going to find a teaching job?

Community centers are always looking for art teachers.

No. You wanted to be home with Kelsey. That’s important to you.

It was true. At the time, Stella had insisted on being a stay-at-home mom. When her own parents had passed away in a car accident when she was only eighteen, she had been left with bitterness and regret at all the time she didn’t have with them. Both her mother and father had worked all the time, and, even as an adult, she had few memories of family time and an aching sense of longing for what she didn’t get. She’d do anything to keep Kelsey from feeling the same way.

I’ll figure something out.

Famous last words, she thought, painting the moon as it hung low in the sky, peeking out from behind the clouds. Later that month, Jeff had gotten offered a promotion, one that nearly doubled his annual salary. Though it had seemed too good to be true, even at the time, Stella hadn’t even thought to ask him if it was true. His story had been perfectly rehearsed and never changed. Sometimes, she wondered if Jeff had come to believe it himself.

As it happened, what Jeff had figured out was that by moving a decimal here or there in the books, he could funnel money from the investment firm into his commission. That lie had corroborated itself, as the on-paper success had gained the attention of his boss, who had promoted him to CFO of the entire mid-sized firm. Between the bonus and what he’d claimed were smart investments, he’d stolen over a million dollars by the time the IRS audited the firm and caught the inconsistencies.

She painted the lighthouse beam brighter than it really looked, feeling as though she might retroactively be able to shine a light on those five years so her past self could see through the excuses. This was her family, her bank account, her life. How could she have been so blind?

When she took a step back from the canvas, she realized she had been painting for hours, based on the rumbling of her stomach and the soreness of her hands. Though she almost didn’t want to look at the clock, she forced herself to, and groaned when she found it was nearly midnight. She’d seen Kelsey return from shopping at the mall a few hours ago and intended to make dinner, but got wrapped up in the project.

Painting always did that to her. By now, Kelsey was probably sleeping. Stella just hoped she hadn’t made microwave popcorn for dinner again. There were leftovers in the refrigerator, but Kelsey always went for snacks when her mother didn’t make her eat a real meal. She’d grow out of that.

Her painting, at the very least, was good. Maybe even her best one yet. She was getting better, but usually, she found herself in the in-between stage where she knew enough to see everything that was wrong with a piece but not good enough to fix it yet. The ocean and storm, though, was compelling. It seemed to have an energy of its own, which she had merely channeled into the oil paints.

It would take at least a day for the surface to be dry enough to touch, so she turned off her fan to keep it from blowing dust around the studio and shut off the lights. It was time to get some sleep.

Quietly, Stella crept through the front door of the house. She’d double back to the kitchen for a snack before she went to bed, but first, she wanted to check on her daughter. Kelsey’s bedroom door was cracked open, and she pushed it open slowly, only as far as she had to so the light from the hall wouldn’t wake her, and stood there for a long moment. Kelsey was beautiful, and no longer a child. Still, watching her sleep, it was difficult to imagine that she would start college soon.

Before she could start crying properly, Stella took a silent, steadying breath and shut the door, heading back to the kitchen. The pantry was still a work in progress, but they had corn flakes, so she poured herself a bowl and ate them at the table alone. When she was done, she rinsed the dishes in the sink and put them in the dishwasher, then headed up to her room to sleep in her big, cold bed by herself.

Two

Rigid in her schedule, even when exhausted, Stella woke up to her alarm the next morning at 5:30 to go running. She bit back an expletive as she reached for the snooze button, but after just two minutes of lying there with her eyes shut, she became bored enough to get up and dressed. Running had been something she’d loved doing in Atlanta, where she’d had a membership at an expensive gym with an indoor, air-conditioned track. It got hot pretty early here, and she’d found it was best to get her run in before the sun had fully risen.

Kelsey was still asleep and probably still would be when she got home. Teenagers, she thought. Maybe she’d stop by the bakery on her cooldown and get her one of those chocolate croissants she liked as an apology for missing dinner.

When she’d first moved here a few weeks ago, she’d been flabbergasted at how many people were up and about at six in the morning. It was a pretty small town, and all the businesses were little family-owned shops. Along the boulevard, almost every store, save for the bar and a few dinner-only restaurants, had at least one member of the staff there to begin getting everything ready for the day.

Good morning, Jessica, she called to the first person who had talked to her after her move, a woman in her early 40s, just a little younger than her. Jessica had a son around Kelsey’s age, so she’d suggested all the fun spots for teens to hang out—and all the ones to never allow her to go. Jessica waved back with a wide smile.

Hi, Stella. How’s the gallery going?

She slowed down enough to chat for a moment, but kept her legs moving, not liking to let her heart rate cool down just yet.

Oh, it’s going. Moved the last of my paintings in yesterday.

That’s amazing! I’ll have to come down and see it next time I’m over that way.

Stella hoped she would. It would be nice to have someone see the product of her hard work.

A few buildings down, Stella waved to Mr. Jeong, a Korean immigrant who owned the furniture store and who had given her a significant discount on her very large order to furnish her house. He and his wife were some of the kindest people she’d ever met. In the building next to that, an elderly couple and their children and grandchildren ran a convenience store. Nice folks. Everyone she’d met here, really, had been eager to introduce themselves. It was nothing like Atlanta. The south was known for their charm and friendliness, but Atlanta had outgrown its southern roots in many ways.

She’d grown up in a big city where she didn’t even recognize every face in her apartment complex, let alone the whole town. Walking down the street here, there wasn’t a single person who hadn’t introduced themselves to her and her daughter. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming, but sweet. She liked the sound of the town, too. Atlanta had always been abuzz with traffic and talking, but it was quiet here. Even a mile away, this early in the day, she could hear the ocean. Seagulls were always honking in the air—did they ever sleep?

Still, the quiet felt insidious. If people caught wind of the drama in her past, they might start to talk about her simply because there was nothing else to talk about. When she’d left her home, the one saving grace she’d thought about was that she was able to start over in a town where no one knew anything about her. The months between Jeff’s arrest and the move had been painful. Everywhere she went, it felt like people were staring at her, and she was never quite out of earshot before the gossip began. Perhaps some of that had been imagined, but there was no escape from the feeling of judgment in Atlanta.

It wasn’t as if she were trying to hide her past. If someone asked her about it specifically, she wouldn’t lie. She just didn’t see any reason to bring it here. Jeff was left behind, and so was all the chaos he’d rained down into her life and Kelsey’s. It wasn’t anyone’s business but her family’s, and besides, she wasn’t close enough with anyone here to really open up, anyway. They’d look at her differently, and she’d ruin any chance she and Kelsey had to live a normal life here. She didn’t want to be the scorned wife, the ex-millionaire who didn’t earn any of it and had her posh life stripped away from her overnight.

Stella realized she’d run a little too far, lost in thought, and she was tired. Breathless. She tended to get carried away with the exercise when she was feeling anxious or thinking hard. Jeff had used to joke