Previously…
– Tori accepted Landon’s invitation for a dinner date.
– Tempest helped single mom Sienna get a job at Thaw, unaware that Sienna had been following her and Samantha.
– After a tense confrontation with Brent at the station, Rosie abruptly quit her job.

The slow burn of the Pacific Northwest sunset casts its warm glow over Pier 22 as Tori Gray hurries from the parking lot toward the restaurant that her family owns and operates. Her heartbeat races as if competing with the pace of her steps, as precious seconds tick away inside her head. The distinctive smell of the bay fills the air and, when she reaches the front entrance of Bill’s on the Pier, she stops to breathe in a healthy dose of that familiar scent.

You’ve got this, she thinks before opening the door and entering the restaurant.

The cacophonous excitement of the dinner rush hits her as soon as she steps inside. Servers weave precise paths through the tables, expertly balancing plates and glasses on their arms; diners chat excitedly as forks and knives clang against plates. It all takes her back to her brief time working here, although the front-of-house clatter was mere background noise compared to the intensity back in the kitchen.

She spots Landon Esco at a two-top by the large window that overlooks the bay, and she starts toward him, offering a quick but friendly greeting to Antonio, a former coworker positioned at the host’s stand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Tori exclaims as she reaches the table. Landon is already grinning at her, and he stands to greet her.

“You’re fine,” he replies, and when he steps toward her, it strikes her that she has no idea what the appropriate greeting is. They step into an awkward hug, and Tori can’t help but giggle at the strangeness of it all.

“Let me get that for you,” Landon says, dipping around her to pull out her chair. Tori smiles at the formality, then takes a seat, placing her purse on the floor.

“Thanks, Landon. And I really am sorry I kept you waiting.”

“I told you, it’s all good. Traffic bad?”

“Work,” she says, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Not even bad, just hectic. We’re pulling together this anniversary gala for Objection in record time.”

“But it’ll be pretty cool when it all works out,” he says. “You’ll get the credit you deserve.”

“If it all works out.” She sighs. “And if it doesn’t… I’ll get credit for that, too.”

—–

“Pierce County?” Travis Fisher says. “That’s, like, two hours away.”

“I’m casting a wide net,” Rosie Jimenez replies from her spot at the round table tucked to one side in her mother‘s kitchen. In front of her is her laptop, on which she is filling out a job application.

Travis, standing at the open refrigerator, redirects his attention from her computer screen and nods. He isn’t sure what to say, and he can feel the frantic energy emanating off his wife as she types and clicks.

“I’m going to find something,” she insists. “I can even work private security.”

He pulls a chilled can of sparkling water from the fridge. The glass bottles lining the inside of the door jangle as he closes it.

“I’m sure if you went back and talked to Uncle Brent,” Travis says, “he’d understand–“

“I don’t want to go back to the KBPD.” She spins on the wooden chair. “I can’t keep working with him.”

“Okay.” Desperate to defuse the situation, Travis looks down as he pops open the can. It lets out a hiss as Rosie turns back around to continue her application.

But the discomfort continues to press down on Travis, and he finds himself adding, “I know you’re really hurt and upset. But leaving your job out of spite–“

“It’s not spite!” Rosie turns again, draping her arm over the back of the chair, her eyes now burning with an unspoken dare.

Travis fights hard not to accept it. Instead he says softly, “I don’t want you to regret anything. That’s all.”

“Why can’t you accept that this is something I need to do for my own mental health?”

“I can accept it. I’m just saying–“

“That you think I’m nuts.”

“When did I say that you’re nuts? I’m trying to support you.”

“You’re trying to brush everything under the rug so that you can pretend everything is normal and happy again,” Rosie says. She pushes back her chair and stands. “So you can pretend we didn’t lose our daughter and that we aren’t living in hell.”

“I don’t want us to pretend that,” he says. “I want us to find a way to move forward together.”

“Then stop taking their side.” She slams the laptop shut and snatches it from the table. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Rosie…”

But she doesn’t seem to hear him and certainly doesn’t stomp. He listens to the now-too-familiar sound of her footsteps beating an angry retreat up the old staircase.

Travis groans to himself and then takes a sip of the water, unsure how he is supposed to make things right again.

The whooshing and whirring of the industrial espresso machine strikes Tempest Banks as soon as she enters Thaw Coffee & Tea. She steps through the door that adjoins the café to the ice arena inside Edge of Winter Arena, then surveys the space, which she finds mostly empty due to the evening hour. Spotting a familiar face at the cash register, Tempest quickly approaches the counter.

“Hey there,” Sienna Ridley says with a smile. She sports the trademark ice-blue apron that Thaw employees wear. “What can I get for you?”

“Just a decaf coffee,” Tempest says, rolling her eyes at her own order. “I need something besides water to get me through these last few spreadsheets, but I don’t wanna be up all damn night.”

“I completely get that. Let me grab your coffee.”

Sienna grabs a paper cup from the nearby stack and turns to fill the cup from a hot decanter against the back wall.

“How’ve you been doing? How’s that little girl of yours?” Tempest asks.

With her smile broadening at the mention of her daughter, Noelle, Sienna turns back. “Pretty good. We’re both pretty good. I feel like I finally have my feet back under me.” She affixes a lid to the cup, slides a cardboard sleeve around it, and passes it to Tempest. “I still can’t thank you enough for pointing me toward this job.”

“Just glad it all worked out,” Tempest says as she holds up her debit card.

Sienna waves her away. “It’s on me. The least I can do as a thank-you.”

“Well, thanks.”

“How about you?” Sienna asks. “I remember you mentioned you and your girlfriend were moving in together…?”

“We did.” Now Tempest is the one with the grin. “Still getting all her stuff put away and all that, but it’s good. You should meet her sometime.”

“That sounds nice.” Sienna plants her palms on the counter, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. “I can’t say I’ve had time to make friends here. It’s just work, pick up Noelle from daycare, cook, clean…”

Tempest cocks her head to the side. “You have a good babysitter?”

“Oh, there’s this older lady who lives downstairs from us, and she’s pretty good with Noelle. I haven’t used her all that much, but in a pinch, it’s a big help. Why?”

“My girlfriend’s company is throwing this big party,” Tempest explains. “A gala, they’re calling it. It’s a fashion thing, and that’s…” She glances down at her dark jeans and black button-up shirt. “Not really my thing, but it’ll be cool. Open bar, fashion show, lots of food. Her aunt runs the whole company.”

Sienna narrows her eyes. “Wow. Okay…”

“Anyway, we could get you a free ticket to that, if you want a night out. Come out hang with us, meet some people, you know.”

“That sounds amazing! I’ll have to see if the babysitter is free… and find a dress. I haven’t gotten dressed up in so long…”

“I’ll bring you the details tomorrow,” Tempest says.

“Great. Will there be a lot of people you know there?”

“Should be, yeah. Jason‘s sister is actually the big boss.”

“I remember you saying your girlfriend was his niece,” Sienna says. “Well, count me in! Sounds like fun.”

“Nice. Thanks for the decaf,” Tempest says, hoisting up the cup.

“Good luck with your spreadsheets,” Sienna tells her before Tempest disappears back through the door that leads to the arena.

With the other barista still occupied cleaning a machine, Sienna remains by the register, a coy smile playing upon her lips. She gazes out the opposite window, which overlooks the parking lot, and recalls the first time that she and Tempest officially met — when Sienna “accidentally” spilled a coffee while trying to get Noelle settled in her car seat.

Maybe this’ll be my opportunity. Finally, she thinks to herself as she imagines the possibilities that await at this gala.

—–

Spencer Ragan steps out onto the massive deck at the back of the house that he shares with his wife, their son, and his mother. The languid sunset has streaked the sky with pink and purple, and the house’s shadow mostly covers the deck and the vast green lawn. Tall Italian Cypress trees line the perimeter of the yard, ensuring privacy from neighbors.

He finds Loretta sitting in one of the cushion-covered wrought-iron chairs at a matching table, scrolling through something or other on her iPad. A large sun hat covers her head, face, and most of her shoulders.

“The sun’s not really out anymore. I think you’re safe,” he comments.

She turns with a bit of a start. “Oh, it’s only you, dear. Hi.”

“Hi.” He uses an index finger to indicate the hat. “This isn’t exactly Positano at high noon.”

“I still have to protect my skin from UV rays. And this hair…”

Spencer walks nearer, jamming his hands into the pockets of the navy slacks that he wore to work. “What about it?”

From beneath the hat, Loretta scowls. “It’s so dull and gray. I can’t wait to have it dyed properly again.”

“Natalie said something about hiring a glam squad for you…?”

“Yes, she was able to secure an appointment for me. It’s possibly only the second useful thing that woman has done, after giving birth to Peter. And she even made a mess of that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having gray hair,” Spencer says. “It can be, you know, elegant.”

“It isn’t me,” she says sharply. But then she places the iPad on the table and adds, in a more somber tone, “Even if I’m not sure for whom I’m keeping up appearances at this point.”

“That’s what I mean. You don’t have to do all that, with the hair dye and the Botox and the… whatever else.”

“But I do, Spencer. I just do. Perhaps it’s all because I like to think that your father still sees me. That I want to impress him.”

Spencer bristles at the mention of James Ragan, or James Robbins — the man whom he always thought was his father, even though he has no memory of him at all. After learning the truth about his heritage and getting to know Tim, Spencer feels even less connection to the man who’s always been referred to as “your father” by Loretta. But he dares not voice any of that to her.

“You really miss him,” he says plainly.

“You have no idea,” Loretta responds. “It’s been decades since Claire took him from us, but the pain hasn’t become any easier to manage. We were supposed to have so much more time — with each other, with Philip, with you.”

All Spencer does is nod along, recognizing that she needs the space to voice whatever this is.

After a weighty pause, she continues: “I look around at times and wonder whose life this even is. Living in this– this place where I hardly know anyone, where there’s no culture at all.”

“You don’t have to stay in King’s Bay,” he comments.

“But I do. For you and for Peter. That’s why I’ve stayed. I’m not going to lose the two of you, not to those wretched Fishers or anyone else.”

“But do you think the things you did are going to keep Peter and me close to you?”

She lifts the brim of her hat enough to expose her gleaming green eyes. “The things I did?”

“The things you’re accused of doing, I mean,” he says hastily. “To Molly and Brent–“

“I am going to beat those charges,” she says, her usual imperious manner returning in full force. “You’ll see. Don’t let those people poison you against me, Spencer. It will not end well.”

With that, she stands — not as swiftly or as easily as she once would have, Spencer notes — and grabs her iPad from the table. She moves past him and back into the house, her royal blue caftan swishing in the light breeze as she goes. After he hears the door close, Spencer goes back to staring out at the Cypress trees standing against the watercolor sky, not even sure how to feel about the woman he once thought of solely as his mother.

—–

Across the table, Landon offers Tori a reassuring look.

“The whole event’s gonna be awesome. Don’t stress more than you need to.”

“I’ll try,” she says, punctuating the statement with an unconvinced sigh.

Their server, a woman with a graying blondish bob named Brenda, arrives tableside with two water glasses and a glass bottle with swing-top cap. She begins pouring the water.

“Hey, Brenda,” Tori says. “This is, um, this is Landon. Landon, this is Brenda. She’s worked here since we opened.”

Landon and Brenda exchange brief greetings as the water is poured.

“Have you had a chance to look at the drink menu yet?” Brenda asks.

Tori grabs the smaller, laminated menu from the table. “No, but we will.”

“I’ll be back,” the server tells them before disappearing back into the fray.

“Here, you look at this,” Tori says as she hands the drink menu to Landon. “I don’t need to hog it.”

“Take all the time you need.”

The way the light from outside glints off his brown eyes catches her attention, and she feels as if she is seeing him in a new way from how she has before.

“Wait a minute!” a gruff male voice barks, and whatever spell Tori has fallen under breaks. Both she and Landon — as well as several other diners — turn to see a bearded man, probably in his early 30s and wearing a gray Seahawks T-shirt, at the entry to the restaurant.

Tori’s eyeline pans over to see the person he is addressing: Lucy Champlain, her former coworker, who is frozen in place, clutching her purse tightly to her body.

END OF EPISODE 1233

Should Tori intervene to help Lucy?
What does Sienna have up her sleeve?
Does Loretta have a heart after all?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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