by Olivia Miles
“Because she knew that he didn’t want it,” Gemma pointed out.
“Exactly. She knew that if she gave it to Dad he would turn around and sell it!” Ellie shot back, and Gemma raised her eyebrows at that, because really, wasn’t that the truth?
Ellie was no fool. She knew how much homes went for on the island, especially on the lakefront, with views as far as the eye could see. Someone with a fat bank account and a crew of men would come in and turn it into a summer paradise or yet another small inn.
But Gran didn’t want that. And Ellie didn’t either. She wanted to hold onto the memories. To this island. She wasn’t ready to let go of this house.
“But do you really want to live here long term, Ellie?” Gemma asked now, her tone gentle, her eyes a little wary. They were entering tricky territory, and she had the impression that Gemma was hoping to avoid another argument like last summer.
Did she regret her words? Ellie could ask, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the truth.
“I…I…” Ellie licked her lip. The truth was that she hadn’t considered living anywhere else. Evening Island was her home. She’d returned every summer during college before moving in with Gran after graduation. Yes, she had island fever during the cold months, but that didn’t mean she wanted to leave it, did it?
“Because your share of the sale would allow you to find something else,” Gemma said.
Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Are you again implying that I am living here by some sort of charity? I’ll have you know that my painting class is filled every Friday and I may be offering up another soon. And I sold two paintings over the weekend in one shop alone. And I sell others, regularly.”
“That’s wonderful!” Hope said, and Gemma beamed a smile so genuine that, for a moment, Ellie almost dared to believe that she was happy for her. That she didn’t see her as a failure, the way she had implied last summer, tapping in to Ellie’s deepest insecurities.
“I love this house,” Ellie said. “And I thought you both did too.”
Gemma looked down at her hands, quieted by that, and Ellie glanced at Hope, who was resting on a lounge chair, her legs propped up in front of her, a baby monitor on the end table next to her.
“We don’t need to decide anything right now,” Hope said mildly, looking as if she couldn’t care either way, and why should she? She had a rich husband. She lived a comfortable life. A big, beautiful home all of her own. Like Gemma, she hadn’t come back to the island for years. The money didn’t matter to her anymore than this house did. She’d never even brought the girls here, and they were already four! She always said it was too far to travel with twins. Gran had only met them once, at Christmas at their parents’ house a few years back.
Ellie’s jaw tightened at that memory. It was the last time they were all together, before the funeral, and it was just like old times, with their parents fussing over Hope and Evan and the girls and her father inquiring about Gemma’s then job at the advertising agency. By then, Ellie had been living with Gran for years, and she knew how her father felt about that.
She just didn’t realize until last summer that her father wasn’t the only one.
“I know that you think I’ve been staying here rent-free because I have no other alternatives,” she said to Gemma, tears burning her eyes.
“I never said that,” Gemma insisted, but Ellie shook her head.
“Last summer you made it very clear that Gran had been kind enough to take me in all those years.”
“And she was, Ellie,” Gemma said gently. “But I didn’t mean it the way you took it.”
“Like a charity case?” Ellie folded her arms across her chest. “You did. Partly. You didn’t see then that I have a home here. A life. It might not be perfect, and I may not be perfect, but I’m doing my best, for Gran, for this house. For me.”
“I’m thinking of you right now,” Gemma said. “This house is worth a lot of money. And this island is a small community for someone as young as you. I know Simon is back for the summer, but when he goes back, wouldn’t it be nice to have the option to go too?”
“Simon’s back?” Hope jumped in, smiling fondly. “Simon Webber? Oh, I’ll have to look for him.” She smiled suggestively at Ellie.
Ellie took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions raging within her. “I’m not going to follow Simon back to Philadelphia,” she said firmly. Neither of her sisters looked completely convinced.
“You were so in love with him,” Gemma said, her eyes shining as if picturing a memory. “And now here he is, after all these years.”
“It’s not as magical as you make it seem, Gemma,” Ellie replied. “It’s not like some story out of one of your books. His parents have a house here. He was bound to come back eventually, just like the two of you.”
He hadn’t come back for her, she reminded himself. Not then. Not now.
“True,” Gemma said with a little shrug. “But this isn’t our parents’ house, Ellie. It’s ours. And we have to think about this. If we sold it and split it—”
“We don’t need to decide anything. You two don’t get a vote!” Ellie said, tossing back such a large slurp of wine that she had to smother a cough. The last thing she needed was one of her sisters jumping in to pound her back or play nursemaid. She didn’t need them now. She needed them back then, when she was fresh out of college, nervous about her options and worried that her father had been right, that she had set herself up for failure, while Gemma and Hope were already settled into their new, successful lives in Chicago. And she’d needed them when she was all alone here, caring for their grandmother. And now they thought they could waltz in and have a say in how she was caring for this house? Nope.
She set the wine glass down on the nearest end table, not caring that some of it spilled onto the whitewashed floorboards. Let one of her sisters wipe it up. After all, they were so keen to have a part in this house, maybe they could pitch in for a change.
“Where are you going?” Gemma called out.
“Out!” Ellie said, because the truth was that she didn’t know where she was going. She just knew that she wasn’t going to stick around here being told yet again how she was going to live her life.
She ran down the stairs to pull her bike from the side of the house. The sun hadn’t completely set yet and there was enough light for her to make her way into town. She had, once, attempted to ride down in the dark, only to end up misjudging where the road turned and ended up squashing a hydrangea bush.
She muttered the whole way into town, trying to rid herself of the hurt that had landed heavily in her chest, stirring up years of resentment that she thought she had finally escaped here on the island. It wasn’t just the birth order; it was who she was. Hope was perfect. Gemma was good enough. And Ellie, well, wasn’t. She wasn’t good enough back then, and according to Gemma, she wasn’t good enough now.
She really should have watered that vegetable garden more, she thought, as she pulled her bike to a stop on the corner of Main and tied it to a lamppost. Here in town, the bars were open, and some of the local bands were setting up, getting ready for a slim crowd, gearing up for the weekend tomorrow. She decided on Hackney’s Pub. It was the most low-key of the bars, mostly frequented by locals, and open year-round. Mack, the current owner, knew her well. He kept her popcorn bowl refilled all night long. Sometimes, that was dinner.
She waved to him and went to sit at her usual seat, the one with the view of the television screens, since the one at the house didn’t work very well, when she heard someone whisper her name.
She kept her pace steady, only glancing back on second thought, and there he was. Simon.
Engaged Simon, she reminded herself firmly.
“Oh. Hi.” Her greeting, she knew, was decidedly chilly, and maybe that was unfair of her. After all, could he be blamed for falling in love with someone else after all these years? He’d gone to college and law school, started a life and a career. As he had said himself: it was what peop
le did.
She pushed back the heaviness in her heart.
“You here alone?” Simon asked, and she almost had to laugh at that. Of course she was alone. If he thought she had found love on this island, he would be sorely mistaken. Sure, Mack was cute, but she was pretty sure that a few of the other girls in town had their eye on him.
He motioned to the seat beside him.
Ellie frowned. “You’re not with your fiancée tonight?”
He shook his head, but his grin slipped in a telling way. “Erin went back to Philly for the weekend.”
Erin. She had a name. Ellie conjured up an image in her head: blonde, blue eyes, perky, petite. She hated her already.
Knowing that what she was about to do would probably only lead to more heartache, she took the seat beside him. Oh, she hated that it felt so good, and that all that heaviness in her chest was now replaced with a fluttering sensation when he caught her eye and grinned.
Really, could he still grin at her like that and be engaged to this Erin woman? Sadly, it would seem that he could.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, and she noticed that he was drinking a beer, on tap.
Their eyes met as they smiled and she glanced away, at the menu, even though she knew that she preferred the white. “I’ll have a white wine,” she said, keeping it simple. She’d nurse it, have one only, and then leave. Maybe she’d find Mandy or Naomi, see if they were free tonight. They could sit out on Naomi’s back deck and play cards.
Only she didn’t want to play cards. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman and her first love was sitting right beside here. She didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.
But did Simon feel the same?
“So how does it feel? Being back on the island?” she asked. She kept darting her eyes in his direction and away again. It hurt too much to look at him. To know that what they had was over, a part of her past, like all those other long, lazy days of summer that she could never seem to get back. It was all slipping away.
“Honestly? Great. Can’t say that Erin feels the same, though.”
Was that so? Now Ellie swiveled her chair only slightly so that she had a better view of him.
“Who doesn’t love Evening Island?” she asked. It was beautiful every day of the year, from the clear water to the lush foliage. Sure, there were moments of cabin fever, but that could happen anywhere. It was a destination spot; tourists flocked here for as many months as the weather permitted.
“Seriously.” He shook his head. Shrugged. “She’s a city girl. All this nature and slow pace isn’t her thing.” He seemed to want to say something else but took a long sip of his beer instead. Finally he said, “To be honest, I’m not sure she plans on returning at all.”
Ellie fought off a smile, even though she knew that there was really no room in her heart for hope at this moment. But she’d never been much of a realist, at least that’s what her father had told her. She thought with her heart, not her head. She didn’t focus on practicalities and life’s inconveniences, like…Simon’s fiancée, for example.
The fiancée who had left the island. While he remained.
Even though she was tempted, she did as she had promised herself and only stayed for one drink. He’d left her wanting more once. It was probably time to turn the tables.
“I should call it a night,” she said, standing.
Her stomach flipped over at the look of disappointment that flashed in his eyes. “So soon?”
“I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” she explained. It was true. She was desperate to get out of the house before either of her sisters woke. She’d almost forgotten how they’d left things, and now she felt uneasy about returning home.
She checked the clock on the wall. She’d stayed later than she thought, meaning that she had a dark walk home with the bike.
She looked at Simon. He was worth it. He always had been. And that was just the problem.
“Well, hopefully I’ll be seeing you again soon,” he said, giving her a slow grin.
She was counting on it.
By the time she got inside the house, it was dark and quiet. Hope and the girls were clearly asleep, and if Gemma wasn’t, she hopefully knew better than to leave the third floor tonight. Still, Ellie tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door before turning the lock, thinking how much different a few hours could mean.
Tomorrow, she knew, would be full of more tension, more unresolved issues with her sisters she would have to deal with.
But tonight… tonight she was certain of two things. She was still in love with Simon. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that he could fall in love with her again too.
Chapter Nine
Hope
The weather was finally warm enough for the girls to venture at least knee-deep into the water, even if Hope did find it alarmingly icy for herself. She sat on one of the weathered Adirondack chairs that had been on their stretch of beach for as long as she’d been coming here, a notebook in her lap, her eyes on the girls.
When they were like this, playing in the sand, transferring buckets of water to their castle and back again, she couldn’t imagine missing out on such a thing, the way Evan did, now by being in Singapore, and daily, when he went to the office. How often had the girls done something so cute that she couldn’t find her camera fast enough, and she thought, How fortunate am I?
Now, guilt twisted inside her because she knew that she was fortunate. She had a big, beautiful house and was blessed with two gorgeous girls. She had a husband who held down a good job, was moving up in his company, and came home every night that he wasn’t travelling, unlike Cindy’s husband at the end of the block, who was most definitely sleeping with his secretary—something Cindy pretended not to know about because she didn’t want to lose her membership at the country club, or have to get a job.
But Hope did want a job. Or better yet, a career. She remembered how it felt once, to dress for work, not an active day with toddlers. To feel like she was needed and wanted for more than cleaning up spilled milk or preparing yet another snack. To be asked questions, and to have her opinion matter.
Could she make a mean chocolate chip cookie? You bet. Could she whip together a snack for twenty-two kids with various diet restrictions and allergies without a blink of an eye? Absolutely. Was she good at being a mother?
She hoped so.
But she could be good at other things too.
She’d fallen into public relations after college because she was good at writing, and she’d taken the job seriously, applied herself, and moved up at the firm. Before the twins were born, Evan had received a big promotion, too good to turn down, that required a lot of travel. It would make no sense for them to both work, and she couldn’t scale down her hours and still commute to the city. And Evan was right: she wanted to be home with the girls. She wanted to give them a different kind of childhood than she’d had. She didn’t want to just supervise, she wanted to engage. Take the classes that required participation, not drop-off. Bake the cookies for the bake sale, not pick up something at the store.
And while she had been good at her career, she couldn’t say that she longed to go back to it, specifically. What she longed for was the feeling it gave her.
The feeling she had finally admitted she was now lacking by giving it up.
Unlike her sisters, she’d never had any hobbies or passions. Even as children, Gemma had her writing and Ellie had her painting. Hope had instead been the neighborhood babysitter, the responsible teen on the block who could wrestle three kids without complaint, and entertain them, too, not just flick on the television and raid the pantry. She collected her earnings at the end of the evening and deposited it into the high-interest savings account her father had set up for her. Ellie, on the other hand, spent all her birthday money on toys and candy within days of receiving it, seeming to feel that she almost wouldn’t be satisfied until every last penny was gone.
Hope had interests: she liked to re
ad, and she liked her tennis lessons. She could play the piano and she maintained a strong grade-point average. But it was Gemma and Ellie who were exceptional.
She’d never given that much thought. Until now. And now, she was, well, she was jealous, she realized. Jealous that her sisters knew who they were and that she didn’t.
“Okay, girls,” she said wearily, when Rose started tossing sand into the air, causing it to fall like rain onto Victoria’s head. “Time for a nap.”
“No!” came the inevitable protests, and she was reminded again that the glorious days of naps were coming to an end. Then what? Usually she used those two precious hours to meal prep for dinner, straighten the house, and pick up all the toys that had been dumped all over the living room that morning even though she knew that they would be upturned again before evening. Those two hours were the only time in her entire day, other than after eight, when she was too tired to do much more than sip a glass of wine and zone out in front of reality television, when the house was quiet. And in the evenings, she had to shift her attention from the girls to Evan, of course, to go from serving her children to serving her husband. To hear the latest updates about work, to give her insight, to be supportive.
Was it so wrong to want something, anything, for herself? To have her own day to talk about, one that didn’t revolve around playground happenings?
The downside of naptime on Evening Island was that she was bound to the house, and the house was not hers, much as she’d tried, with some little touches like colorful throw pillows to replace the faded floral ones that Gran had kept on the patio furniture all those years, and the lanterns and flowers, and fresh linens that she’d bought for all of their beds, even if Ellie did look more disturbed than grateful.
Gemma’s announcement hadn’t helped matters, she thought, as she gathered all the toys into her canvas beach tote. She’d had the sense to pack it, and the toys were faded remnants of her own childhood, found in the hall closet on the top shelf, a relic from another era, much like the old wicker furniture on the porch, or the juice glasses that still bore the faded print of lilacs on the edges. She hadn’t even thought of those in so many years, but once she saw them again, she was overwhelmed with nostalgia and longing, for another time, another place. Another feeling.