State of Grace: A Moonflower Cove Romance Read online

  STATE OF GRACE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Addison Clarke.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Lucy Bexley

  Acknowledgements

  Cate, this book would not have been possible without you.

  You are my person, my soul mate, and my best friend.

  Thank you for asking me to smell your perfume all those years ago.

  I love you.

  Amanda, editing this book with you has been an amazing experience.

  Thank you for all your help and guidance.

  Content Warning

  This novel references a rape that occurred off-page and

  is mentioned as backstory with no graphic detail.

  Chapter 1

  Blake Calloway had been in denial for months that she’d eventually have to clean out her father’s house. It had less to do with the fact she was emotional over his passing and more to do with the fact that she had no interest whatsoever in rummaging through his belongings. Standing in the living room of his two-story townhouse, Blake looked around at the stacks of boxes she’d managed to pack over the last few hours.

  She was surprised at how little her father kept in the house. Ben Calloway wasn’t a knickknack guy, but he always wanted people to know he had money. Everything in the house was an elegant designer brand, from the couch to his expansive collection of suits and ties. Overall, Blake found few personal items she was even considering keeping. Blake had packed his books away neatly and labeled them for donation along with the boxes of clothes that sat near the front door.

  “That’s everything from the bathroom.” Her manager and ex-girlfriend Salem Cohen came out of her father’s bedroom with a large black trash bag in her hand. Blake had reluctantly accepted Salem’s help because she didn’t have many other friends in her life.

  At the ripe age of five, Blake’s father had moved them from their upstate New York two-story house to a Los Angeles apartment so Blake could pursue her dream of acting. Her father hadn’t been the most loving of parents. He’d taken care of her, yes, but Ben had also served as Blake’s agent since before they moved to LA. Soon after arriving in LA, Blake was cast on a family sitcom that propelled her to the top of everyone’s watchlist.

  Blake had landed several gigs on a handful of hit TV shows thanks to her father continually toting her around from one audition to another. She had by no means reached superstar status, but she was well-known enough to be noticed on more than one occasion when going to the grocery store. When Blake was cast in her latest role as Avery Romano on the hottest sci-fi show to hit the small screen since Star Trek, her life became even more alienated from any semblance of friends she might have had.

  Despite all the success Blake had amassed over the years, her heart longed for a simpler life in which she was free to be herself. Blake wanted to be able to go to the grocery store without having to disguise herself and to buy two cartons of ice cream without a nosy paparazzi snapping a picture of her and blasting it over social media. Thankfully, Salem was able to take down most of the candid photos soon after they appeared online. That was the only good thing Blake could say about Salem.

  “Thanks, Salem.” Plopping down on the recliner, Blake watched her toss the garbage bag into the large trash can they’d placed by the front door. Salem had pulled her auburn hair back into a tight bun, and she still had on her grey pinstriped pantsuit from work.

  “Is this everything?”

  “I think so?”

  “Ok, well,” she pulled her phone out from her pocket, “the movers will be here later today to take this stuff to the donation center, and then they’ll take your stuff over to my condo.”

  “Super.”

  “Blake,” Salem groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “don’t start this again.”

  “I’m not starting anything.”

  “I know this whole arrangement isn’t ideal, but it’s only temporary.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea, Salem?” Blake didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her voice. The two of them had gone back and forth on the issue so many times over the last several weeks that she knew there was no winning a fight about it. Although the current network had canceled the show after seven successful seasons, the writers and producers were trying to pitch it to other studios. Salem had insisted she stay in Vancouver until the final nail was in the coffin since there was still a fraction of a chance the show would be revived.

  Which meant Blake was moving into Salem’s spare room.

  It had never occurred to Blake to get a place of her own. She’d gone from living with her father to living with Salem, to moving back in with her father once he got sick. Vancouver was never home to her, and in the back of her mind, Blake always knew it was a temporary gig. Of course, she hadn’t thought temporary would turn into seven years with the prospect of more looming in front of her.

  The Things We Left Behind was one of the top shows in their timeslot, but a shakeup at the old studio had led to its abrupt cancelation after the mid-season finale. They’d filmed the rest of the season, so it was up to Salem and the rest of the writers, producers, and agents to fight to get it aired on another network. The writers had also pitched a made-for-TV movie, which was why Salem was trying to get Blake to stay around if they needed to start filming.

  “Blake, please.” Holding up a hand, Salem never looked up at her as she typed away furiously on her phone. “We have a meeting with another production company this afternoon, so hopefully, this whole thing is temporary.”

  “I hope so.”

  “If you’re going to have such an attitude about it, why don’t you take a few weeks and get away? It’ll give you some time to focus and recalibrate. You could go hang out with your friends in New York. Those crazy ones that are filming the crime show.”

  “I might. I dunno.”

  “Well, you can always help us try to save your career.”

  “I’m at the top of my career.” Holding out her arms over her head, Blake smirked at Salem. She laughed reluctantly, but they both knew it was true. Even if Blake never landed another gig, she could say she was happy with the way her career had played out.

  “As true as that may be, I don’t think you’re ready to call it quits quite yet.” Tucking her phone back into her pocket, Salem crossed her arms over her chest. “There are a couple more boxes in the attic if you could go through them before the movers get here. You can tell them to carry them down for you, but make sure they don’t have anything in them you want or need. I’m going to go, so I’m not late for this meeting.”

  “Have fun.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Salem walked out the front door. Picking up her phone off the coffee table, Blake scrolled through her contact list. Several of her former co-stars on her first TV show would be happy to host her for a few days, but Blake wasn’t in the mood to see any of them.

  Pushing herself off the chair, she headed to the small staircase that led to the attic and made her way up. There was barely enough headroom for Blake to narrowly avoid hitting her head on the rafters. She groaned as she saw that when Salem had said a couple of boxes, she’d meant quite a few plus an enormous chest that looked vaguely familiar to Blake. For a moment, Blake contemplated telling the movers to take everything to the donation center, but something a
bout the chest drew her into the cold attic.

  She haphazardly threw aside the old comforter draped over the chest; Blake gasped at the sight of her name hand-painted on the top with two large yellow daisies flowing out from the letters. She remembered the chest from her childhood room back on the East Coast, and the sight caused a wave of memories to crash into her heart and mind.

  Ben had told Blake it was left behind in the move “on accident.”

  Blake vaguely remembered when Isla had built matching chests for Blake and her younger sister, Mason. The three of them had painted them together all afternoon until they were all covered in as much paint as the chests. Her mother had told them it was a safe place for all their belongings and Blake remembered how she used to put her favorite books and toys in the chest every night before bed. She wondered if any of them were still tucked away inside.

  The cedar chest had a lock on it, but it gave way with one swift tug. She carefully opened the lid, hinges creaking in protest. A large quilt lay on top, and Blake slowly sat on the dusty wooden floor as she delicately pulled it out. Blake instantly recognized it; she saw the baby clothes hand-stitched together by her mother and thought of the way her mother would tuck her in under it every night.

  Holding it up to her nose, Blake took in a deep breath and took in the faintest smell of her mother. It was a mix of jasmine and lavender that took Blake straight back to her childhood. She couldn’t remember much of her mother anymore. The memories she’d had as a young girl had long faded into the recesses of her brain. Blake had barely been five when her parents divorced, and her father moved her across the country to pursue her career. She’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye to her mother or her younger sister. Her father had pulled Blake from her slumber one night, packed the car in silence, and it seemed he had never looked back. Neither had Blake, but each for their own reasons.

  Spreading the blanket out over her lap, Blake peeked back into the chest and furrowed her brow at the stacks of letters haphazardly tossed inside it. They were all addressed to her, but none were open. She picked one up as she absentmindedly ran her hand over the name in the corner.

  Isla Mackenzie.

  “Mom,” Blake’s voice caught in her throat as she ripped open the letter. Her eyes couldn’t read it fast enough, and as soon as she finished one, she quickly grabbed another, then another, and another. They all said the same things. Her mom loved her, was so proud of her, and wanted to be a part of her life. Included in some envelopes were pictures of Mason, and of three more kids who were Blake’s half-siblings and a gorgeous blonde who was her mother’s wife.

  Hours had passed before Blake read every letter and studied every photo. She’d barely noticed the tears that had streamed down her face until they began to spot the letters and photographs spread around her. Her entire life had been a lie. Her father had told her that her mother had been unfit to raise her, that she wasn’t mentally stable enough to love her the way she needed to be loved.

  And Blake had believed him.

  She’d never had any reason not to.

  Until now.

  The letters told a side to the story that Blake never knew. It was a story of how her mother hadn’t wanted Blake to be pushed into the spotlight so young. It was a story of how her mother had tried to protect her so she could have an everyday life and how her father hadn’t wanted that. They told of how her father had taken Isla to court, where he fought for full custody of Blake, leaving her sister Mason entirely out of the arrangement. Several letters from Vera, Isla’s wife, begged Blake to have a relationship with her mother because she missed her so much. She cried for her all the time, every birthday, every holiday.

  “Why would he do this?” Blake asked the empty attic as she angrily threw the letter in her hand down on the ground along with the others. Anger had quickly replaced sadness as she thought about everything her father had robbed her of because of his selfishness. Sure, he’d helped her build a career that made her millions, but he never gave her what she always wanted. Had she ever really stopped to think about what she really wanted?

  A family.

  A mother.

  A sister.

  A normal life.

  Blake had never once questioned what her father had told her about her mother. He was her father; Blake had naïvely hoped he would always do what was best for her. But the letters littered around her told her an entirely different narrative, and Blake needed answers. She needed the truth about her mother.

  Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her hoodie, she googled the latest address on the envelopes. 1897 River Crest Way, Moonflower Cove, Maine. Moonflower Cove was a speck on the map outside of Portland. Before Blake could overthink anything, she booked a one-way ticket to Maine, leaving later that day out of Vancouver.

  “Blake, you still here?” She could hear Salem’s muffled voice as she reentered the house.

  “Up here.”

  Blake could hear her walking up the creaky stairs, and she didn’t bother to move or hide the letters or the blanket or even to wipe the tears from her eyes. When Salem saw her, her face drained of all color. She walked slowly to Blake as she appeared to process the scene in front of her.

  “Blake, what’s wrong?”

  “I found all these letters from my mom.”

  “From your…whoa.” Salem sat on the rickety floor beside her and picked up one of the letters. Her green eyes quickly scanned the letter before running her hand over the photographs lying around Blake’s legs. “Holy shit.”

  “Why would he do this?”

  “I…I don’t know.” She seemed as genuinely shocked as Blake was. Blake might not like it, but Salem knew more about her than anyone. Salem knew how badly Blake wanted to find her mother and when the two were together, Salem had even helped her look for her. Their searching had always come back empty, and Blake realized now it was because Isla had gone back to her maiden name, a name Blake didn’t know. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Running her hand through her hair, Blake let out a frustrated sigh. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she moved the envelopes and photographs into a pile. “I may be crazy, but I want to go see her.”

  “Maybe that will be good for you.”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “You’re asking for my opinion?” Salem’s surprise was genuine. It’d been two years since they’d been together, and since then, their relationship had been primarily professional. Blake nodded, and Salem took in a long, deep breath. “Well, you’ve wanted to find your mom for a while, and now that you’ve found her, especially since you don’t have any pressing filming schedule, I say, do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I already booked a flight.” She smirked as Salem playfully shoved her shoulder.

  “Why did you ask my opinion then?”

  “To make you think it was your idea.”

  Leaning over toward Salem, Blake placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Salem rolled her eyes at it, and Blake stuffed the letters back into the chest. Picking up the trunk, Blake and Salem carried it downstairs to her bedroom as she dug a backpack out of one of the boxes. Blake packed the letters away in the bag before unpacking a few boxes and packing a suitcase full of enough clothes to get her through at least a couple of weeks in Maine. When she finished packing away the letters, the movers had already arrived and were loading up the U-Haul while Salem hovered over them like a hawk.

  “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”

  “No, it’s ok.” Blake slung the backpack over her shoulder. “I called an Uber.”

  “I told you not to do that.”

  “I used an alias.” She put a grey baseball cap on her head and pulled her long ponytail through the back of it. “It’s fine.”

  “Well, be safe and let me know when you get there.” Salem pulled Blake’s suitcase to the front door as they both stopped in the doorframe. “I’ll let you know when
I have an update.”

  “Thanks, Salem.” Without another word, Blake headed out the front door with her suitcase dragging behind her. She put it into the trunk of the driver’s car before slipping into the backseat. Blake was thankful that the driver wasn’t chatty and kept the radio on a moderate volume for the entire drive to the airport. At the terminal, the driver turned around and smiled shyly at her.

  “I love your show.”

  “Thank you.” Blake nodded her head at the young woman. She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the 8x10 photographs she’d started carrying around with her. Her fans always loved it, and Blake didn’t mind spending a few extra minutes to make their day. “What’s your name?”

  “Lily.”

  “Thank you for the ride, Lily.” Blake handed her the personalized autograph copy of her character from the show. “I’ll see if I can get you to pick me up when I get back.”

  “Absolutely. Thank you, Ms. Calloway.”

  “Please, call me Blake.”

  “Let me get your suitcase for you.”

  “I got it, but thank you, Lily.” Despite her fame, Blake never liked people fawning over her or doing things for her simply because of who she was. Blake didn’t think she deserved that for simply doing her job. Pushing open the car door, Blake peeked in once more after getting her suitcase from the trunk. “Thanks again, Lily.”

  “Thank you, Blake.”

  With a wave, Blake shut the car door and headed inside the airport. She checked her bags, went through security, and found a quiet rocking chair by a window to spend a few moments alone until her plane was ready to depart. Reaching into the backpack, Blake pulled out the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Blake gently set the rocker in motion as she let out a sigh.

  I’ll be there soon, Mom.

  Chapter 2

  Impatiently tapping her sneaker on the hardwood floor, Alexis Holland mindlessly stared at the microwave and sipped coffee from the Star Wars mug shaped like Yoda. She checked her watch once more as her foot tapping increased. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and if she didn’t leave soon, she would be late for work at the bar.