Previously…
– Travis became suspicious after he caught Rosie having hushed conversations with a busboy at Bill’s on the Pier, but Rosie later promised Travis that she wants to be with him and only him. He agreed to respect her privacy with regards to her past.
– Tempest struggled to cope after Samantha officially broke things off with her.
– Samantha agreed to sit down and talk with her estranged mother, Diane.

 

Tim Fisher’s feet slow to a brisk walk as they hit the driveway in front of his house. He sucks in the chilly winter evening air, letting it fill his lungs as he recovers from his run. There are plenty of things he would rather have done after work tonight, but he knows that he will appreciate having exercised later… especially since he has his first date in a long while coming up soon.

He unlocks the front door and pulls out his earbuds. His daughter sits on the first step of the staircase, slipping on a pair of shoes.

“You’re going?” he asks, shifting immediately into a serious tone.

Samantha looks up. “Yeah. I’m heading out in a minute.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” She stands and straightens her body, as if each limb is a physical manifestation of her resolve and she is working to convince herself. “I do.”

“Okay.” Tim places his phone, with the headphones still plugged in, on the nearby console table. “As long as you’re the one driving this. I know your mom can be a… little headstrong…”

“A little?”

He cracks half a smile, uncertain how much of Samantha’s comment is a warm joke and how much is a sharp criticism of Diane.

“I think it’s time that she and I talk,” Sam says. “It can’t go on like this forever — one of us not showing up to every event because we can’t be in the same place.”

“That makes sense. And holding onto anger is never good for you. For any of us.”

She picks up her black coat, which is hanging over the bannister. “I wish I knew how you did it — how you stopped being mad at her for what she did to you. You’re the one she actually did something to. If you can get past it…”

“Hey,” Tim says, making sure to catch her eyes. “There’s no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ or anything else here. I’ve explained my side of this. There were a very specific, weird set of circumstances that changed things between your mother and me. If I had never gone missing, if I hadn’t lost all those years… I don’t think we’d be anywhere close to where we are now.”

“But you did get there.”

“We did. Because being away so long really changed my perspective on life. And because the life I came back to was so different than the one I left. Your mom had won back custody of you, and Claire was with Ryan, and it was…” He sighs as he mentally hacks through the weeds of those confusing, disturbing days, the memory of which never seems to grow less overwhelming. “It was jarring. My whole world was turned on its head. Your mom wound up being a real friend to me, and it looked to me like she’d changed and understood how wrong it was that she did what she did to me.”

“She assaulted you,” Samantha says. “We shouldn’t dance around that.”

Even as he nods in agreement, the bluntness of it stings Tim. Having it put that way always makes him question whether he is insane for letting Diane back into his life in any capacity.

“You’re right,” he says. “But your mom and I decided to make you the priority — giving you the best life we could, no matter what had happened in the past. I just never, ever want you to think that the way you were conceived has any bearing on how either of us, or anyone else in the family, feels about you.”

This time, she is the one to force some brightness into her expression. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He watches as she puts on her coat.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says, “no matter what you decide to do about your mom. But I think sitting down and talking with her is the healthiest thing you can do for yourself right now.”

“I hope so,” Samantha says through a sigh as she reaches for the doorknob.

In the upstairs office at the Edge of Winter Arena, Jason Fisher straighten a pile of papers atop his desk and then zips up the small computer bag that he uses as a briefcase. He looks across the office, where Tempest Banks still has her head down over a pile of receipts on her own desk.

“I can’t believe I’m telling an employee this,” Jason says, “but please don’t do any more work tonight.”

Tempest’s head snaps up. “Huh?”

“Everything around here is in immaculate order. I know you’ve been staying later than you need to.”

She furrows her brow. “Am I… getting in trouble for doing my job?”

“No. Not even close.” He sets down his bag and walks over to her desk. “I appreciate your hard work. I do. But I kind of get the idea that you’re using work to escape from the rest of your life…”

She deflects her own eyes back toward the computer monitor.

“…like not having Samantha to hang out with at night?” he says.

After a lengthy pause, Tempest lets out a heavy sigh.

“I guess. Yeah. Just easier to do my work and keep my head busy, you know? Better than sitting in my room watching TV alone and thinking and stuff.”

“I understand. Believe me,” Jason says. “But maybe you should go and do something nice for yourself. Get a massage. Join a group. Take a class. I want you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“Well, I’m actually meeting friends tonight,” she says. “Going to the Lookout with a couple girls. We’re gonna get drinks and stuff.”

“Good! That’s great.”

He can see her contemplating something else as she chews one side of her lower lip.

“Thanks for being so nice to me,” she says. “I kinda thought… like, I was worried that after everything that went down with Sam and me, that you might not even want me working here anymore.”

“I’m not about to fire you because you and my niece broke up.”

“It wasn’t just that we broke up.”

“I know. And it isn’t like I have no feelings about it,” Jason says. “I don’t like that Samantha got hurt, and I sure as hell didn’t want Tim to have to relive something that I know he worked really hard to put in the past.”

Tempest winces.

“But I think you understand how wrong what you did was,” he continues. “All of us have made mistakes like that. The point is to learn from them and to be a better person because of them.”

“Doubt you did anything near as bad as what I did.”

“Maybe not exactly like that, but did Claire or Samantha ever tell you about the time I got into a fistfight at Christmas dinner?”

Tempest perks up. “What? No!”

“With Josh.”

“Brent’s brother?”

“Yeah. It was back when Lauren and I were together. I could tell there was some kind of… I don’t know, a vibe between them, and Josh kept pushing my buttons, and I totally snapped.” He shakes his head as he recalls his own foolishness. “It wound up costing me my relationship with Lauren.”

“She broke up with you because of that?”

“That wasn’t the only factor, but it sure as hell didn’t help. I was planning to propose to her, and I blew it because I was a jealous idiot and couldn’t control myself.”

“Wow.” She quietly absorbs his story. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe not now — because I like to think I learned from it,” he says. “My point is, it sucks what happened, and if you could go back in time and change it, I know that you would. But no one can. You’re practically family, anyway, and I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

“Have fun with your friends tonight,” he says as he returns to his own desk to grab his bag. “Feel free to come in a little late tomorrow morning if you want, okay?”

Her face glows with appreciation and relief. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

With a wave, he leaves the office. Tempest spends a few more minutes organizing the receipts for various business expenses that have been turned in over the past few weeks, and once she has them in order, she closes the file and shuts down her computer. After packing up her things, she heads down the stairs and around the ice rink to head out to the parking lot. She hesitates for a moment when she sees the entrance to Thaw, but when she notices the line at the register, she decides to go without a caffeine pick-me-up for the time being and simply calls her Uber.

Jason’s right, she thinks as she glances out the front window for a sign of the car. It’s time to pick myself up and get back to living.

The dinner rush is in full effect at Bill’s on the Pier. As Travis Fisher steps out of the hot kitchen, relieved to feel the cooler area of the dining room, he surveys the space. He is grateful to see that the new restaurant is being embraced by the community — but it also means that his shifts in the kitchen tend to take on a pretty frenzied pace, so he is equally thankful to have a break right now.

Jesse, the busser with whom he saw Rosie talking at the grand opening, steps up to the nearby bussers’ station with an empty pitcher of water.

“Hey, man,” Jesse says.

“Hey.” Travis feels a little awkward about making small talk with him; he has spent enough time thinking about the guy, and whatever his tie to Rosie might be, but he has barely exchanged more than a handful of greetings with him, especially since the kitchen staff and the front-of-house workers don’t normally have that much interaction.

“You still dating Rosie?” Jesse asks as he fills up the pitcher with fresh water.

The question catches Travis by surprise. “Uh, yeah. I am. We had a little, uh, stumble, but we’re back on. Things are good.”

“Cool. Lemme guess: she got all hotheaded on you?”

“It was more complicated than that,” Travis says, “but…”

Jesse laughs. “Look, man. I know how she can be. I get it.”

Travis cracks a grin. “So you must know her kind of well, huh?”

“Guess so.” Jesse pauses as he lets the pitcher fill up and turns off the water. “We go way back. Nothing big.”

“Do you know her family, then?”

Jesse glances over at him, with a hint of something that Travis cannot decipher glinting in his eye.

“What about ‘em?” he finally asks.

“Nothing. Just… yeah, nothing.” Travis recalls the promise he made to Rosie to respect her privacy, and he is determined to stick by it. She has given him no reason since that conversation to suspect her of anything shady, and if she wants to keep certain aspects of her life private, then so be it.

“I need to run out to my car and grab my phone charger,” Travis says. “No way is my battery making it to the end of this shift otherwise.”

“I hear you, man. Later.”

As Travis heads out of the restaurant, Jesse lingers by the station for another moment, watching him go.

Samantha’s heart rate spikes as she pulls open the front door of Cassie’s Coffee House. When she steps inside, however, she finds it less chaotic than she’d feared. A light, acoustic song featuring a female voice plays over the speakers, and she realizes with pleasant surprise that it is one of Danielle Taylor’s new songs.

As she steps up to the counter to order, Samantha surveys the coffee shop. A few patrons are spread over the well-worn couches and armchairs in the center of the space, and she notices some laptops perched on tables. By the window, she sees her own mother, waiting with a beverage of her own at a table for two. Diane is staring right at her. When Samantha spots her, Diane flinches, as if caught doing something improper, and then lifts a hand in a small wave. Samantha returns the gesture before stepping up to order her own tea.

Once she has paid, Samantha carries her tea across the large room. Her throat is tight and her breaths are short as she prepares to face Diane. She has spent so much time imagining how this meeting could go, running through different scenarios and considering how much rage, if any, she should display, and how forgiving she should be from the get-go. The truth is that she has no idea how to feel.

“Hi,” Diane says. “Thanks for coming.”

Samantha simply nods as she takes the seat across from her mother.

“How are you?” Diane asks.

“I’m okay.” Sam finds herself staring at the scratched surface of the wooden table. “I don’t know where we’re supposed to start.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s really a rulebook here.” Diane pauses for several seconds. “How’s work going? Do you feel like you’re getting into the groove of it now?”

“Yeah. It’s going well. Working with Trevor has been a big help. He can show me the ropes when I’m a little lost. Not that I can’t do the work, but fashion is a whole new world…”

“I get it. I’m proud of you. You’re tackling something that was unfamiliar and probably uncomfortable. I’m sure you’re doing an incredible job.”

“Thanks,” Samantha says, offering an uneasy smile in return.

“How’s Spencer doing?”

“Much better. The physical therapy seems like it’s helping him a lot. He even went out to dinner with Tori the other night on his own.”

“That’s great. Really great.”

As Diane takes a sip of her drink, Samantha looks across and gets lost momentarily in how familiar this all is. This is her mom. She’s so used to having these conversations with her — even if she can see Diane working not to toss in a crack about “that nutjob Loretta” who raised Spencer, or any of her other usual, sarcastic barbs.

“Have you talked to Bree?” Diane asks.

“We’ve texted,” Samantha says. “It’s amazing that she medaled.”

“Yeah. That kid’s worked really hard. And Jason is a terrific coach.”

“I’m supposed to go over and see them this weekend. Aunt Natalie said we can watch a video of her free skate.”

“Oh, I have one!” Diane says, reaching for her purse, which is hanging off the back of her chair. “Your grandmother sent me some cell phone video about 90 seconds after the results were posted.”

“Sounds about right,” Samantha says. This all feels so perfectly normal, so usual, that as she leans in to look at the phone screen, she nearly forgets what has happened — that their relationship has been fundamentally changed, that there is no going back to “normal” now.

But just as Diane is about to hit play on the video, her gaze catches on something — something behind Samantha. When she turns to look, Samantha sees it, too.

Tempest Banks stands near the counter, staring right at them.

—–

When Jesse’s own break arrives, he clocks out and heads for the exit. The cool night air blasts him as he pulls out his phone and makes a beeline for the end of the pier, where he places a call.

“Hey,” he says into the phone. “Wanted to warn you about something.”

He checks to be sure that he is alone out here.

“It’s Rosie,” he explains. “Her boyfriend, that cook I work with, he just asked me if I knew her fam. I dunno, there was something kinda weird about it.”

Jesse listens for another few seconds before responding.

“I dunno, man. Just seemed weird. Like he was trying to find out exactly how much I know.”

He gazes out at the still surface of the water.

“I think she might be up to something,” he tells the person on the other end.

—–

Samantha nervously watches Tempest contemplating her next move. It is difficult for Samantha to push aside the immediate thought that Tempest looks good: she is wearing a pink blazer over dark jeans, clearly having just come from work, and her hair falls in thick, unfussy curls around her face and shoulders. But she knows that thinking that isn’t going to help anything — and, besides, the last thing she wants right now is to be in the same room as both her mother and her ex.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Diane mutters as Tempest approaches them.

Resolving to keep this as pain-free as possible, Samantha swivels in her chair.

“Hey,” Tempest says. The word sounds sticky and unnatural. Her eyes flick between the two of them, as if frantically working out a math problem in her head.

“Hi,” Samantha says.

“Tempest.” Diane’s tone is recognizable to Sam; there is just enough contempt in it to come through clearly, but nothing about it is outwardly offensive enough that anyone could call her on it.

“I was just getting a coffee before I meet up with some friends,” Tempest says. “But you think we can talk soon? Tomorrow or this weekend?”

Samantha flinches. Looking at Tempest now, she knows how easy it would be for a talk to turn into something more — an emotional outpouring, a kiss, a hasty reunion. But none of that would solve the underlying problem.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Samantha says gently, even though it pains her to do so.

“Why not?” Tempest asks. “If you’re talking to her–”

“What my daughter and I discuss is none of your business,” Diane cuts in.

“It’s my business if she’s gonna give you a second chance and not me!” Tempest’s gaze pleads with Samantha. “Come on. Just a drink to talk.”

Samantha hesitates. She does see the double standard, but then again, Diane is her mother. It would be very hard to cut her out of her life entirely, especially for something that happened over two decades ago. She feels as though she has to figure out whether they could have some kind of relationship, however limited or not in scope, and what that might look like. And as much as it hurts her not to be with Tempest, the trust between them still feels too broken.

“One drink,” Tempest says.

“Tempest,” Diane says. “With all due respect — and, frankly, that’s very little — you should go.”

“Mom,” Samantha interjects.

“It’s up to Sam. You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Tempest fires at Diane right over Samantha’s head. “And if you hadn’t tried so hard to control what my mom did with her baby–”

“I was trying to help!” Diane says. “Chase wound up in a perfect home.”

Tempest rolls her neck. “So that makes it okay that you brought that creep Hank here?”

Samantha watches them like a tennis official observing every volley of an intense match. When she opens her mouth to speak, Diane again steamrolls right over her.

“Don’t you try and blame what you did on me,” she says. “I overstepped my bounds. I’ll admit that. If I had known what that man did to you, would I have gone about it differently?”

“Probably not,” Tempest scoffs.

“Don’t you dare blame me for what you did to my daughter–”

“Enough!” Samantha declares as she bursts up from her seat. It is finally enough to get both of them to shut up. They stare at her, awaiting a declaration about whose side she is going to take.

“This is exactly what I haven’t wanted to deal with with either of you,” she says, grabbing her keys from the table. “I’m going.”

Diane shoots up from her own chair. “Wait. We can still talk. If Tempest will just excuse us–”

“You’re the one who tried to order me around,” Tempest says.

“I’m going.” Samantha bolts away from them toward the exit, leaving her tea behind. She rushes out to her car and jumps in. Through the large front window, she can see her mother and Tempest still sniping at one another.

With her pulse thumping loudly in her ears, she starts the car and drives off before either of them can follow her.

END OF EPISODE 910

Is there any hope for Samantha to mend her broken relationships?
Should Tempest focus on moving on with her life?
What was Jesse’s phone call all about?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

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