No Forever Like Nantucket (A Sweet Island Inn Book 6)

by Grace Palmer

  “And I’ve never been much of a cook,” Parker said, leaning back in his chair with a boisterous laugh. “We are a match made in heaven.”

  Usually, Sara would be suspicious of anyone offering her everything she wanted. Maybe it was the beautiful office. Or maybe it was residual wonderment from the private plane that morning. But for some godforsaken reason, Sara trusted Parker Greene. Enough that when he slid the contract across the desk to her a few minutes later, she signed it happily with a big, fat smile on her face.

  “Sara Benson,” Parker said, holding his hand out to her for the second time that day, “it will be a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Sara shook his hand, adrenaline pouring through her veins.

  Finally. She’d made it.

  15

  Holly

  Downtown Nantucket

  A little hair of the dog that bit you felt a whole lot like getting bit again, in Holly’s opinion. “I never want to see another mimosa in my life,” she announced.

  Holly pushed her glass next away to the bouquet of white daisies sitting in the middle of the table. Daises that looked just as fresh as Lindsay and Diana. Holly had rolled out of bed looking like one of the lumpy, sludge-filled swamp monsters Grady had sitting on the shelf in his room, but her friends looked lovely. Pressed clothes, bright lipstick, artfully coiffed hairdos. Ready for a brunch at The Supper Club, one of Nantucket’s newest and hottest places to spend twelve dollars on a cup of coffee.

  “These aren’t even that strong,” Lindsay said, frowning down at her glass, a red smear of lipstick printed on the dainty crystal rim.

  “That’s because they didn’t follow your patented one-to-four ratio of orange juice to champagne,” Diana teased, flipping through the brunch menu, her nails sporting a fresh coat of white polish.

  Lindsay shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry that I know how to party.”

  Lindsay really did know how to party. Apparently, Diana did, too. Holly was the only one not let in on the secret. As far as she could tell, they’d all consumed roughly the same amount, but she was the only one who’d needed to press cold spoons to her eyes to de-puff them enough to see.

  “No more partying for me,” Holly said firmly.

  “Not until tonight, anyway!” Lindsay shimmied her shoulders with excitement. “I’ve already confirmed with Jamie that there will be a cash bar.”

  “Jamie Walker? Is she the one in charge of planning?” All of Holly’s information about the reunion had come directly from Lindsay and Diana. Even though she was the one who still lived in Nantucket, she wasn’t in touch with many people from their graduating class.

  Diana nodded and wagged a finger in the air, trying to flag the waitress. “She was our class president.”

  “We had one of those?”

  “Of course, we did,” Diana laughed. “How do you not remember this? The election scandal of 2005?”

  Holly looked blankly at Diana over the table. Finally, she shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”

  Lindsay leaned over and nudged Diana, whispering loudly enough for the whole table and a few diners nearby to overhear. “That was the end of junior year when Miss Holly was head over heels in love with Mr. Pete Goodwin, you’ll remember.”

  “That’s right!” Diana grinned and snapped her fingers. “When we didn’t see you for three months straight.”

  “That’s a little dramatic,” she protested. But she couldn’t deny that there was a blank spot in her memory of high school. A period immediately after starting to date Pete, where all she remembered was rushing out of school and jumping into the passenger seat of his car.

  But she still went to school. She still saw her friends between classes. She couldn’t have missed that much.

  “Is it?” Lindsay raised a blonde brow. “If you weren’t with Pete, you were writing him love notes. If you weren’t writing him love notes, you were calling him. And if you weren’t calling him—”

  “You were doodling his name in the back of your notebook!” Diana threw her head back and laughed. “I sat behind you in Mr. Wilson’s biology class. A front row seat to watch you write ‘Mr. & Mrs. Pete Goodwin’ in every color pen you owned.”

  Holly’s face flushed. She may or may not still have one or two notebooks from high school with Pete’s name scribbled all over the margins. In a rainbow of gel pens. Surrounded by little floating hearts and love arrows.

  “Ha-ha-ha,” Holly said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Just tell me about the election scandal, please.”

  Diana waved a hand like it hardly mattered, even though she’d just acted like Holly was crazy to know nothing about it. “Word on the street was that Jamie stuffed the ballot boxes.”

  “She had practice from all those years of stuffing her bra,” Lindsay cackled.

  Before either of them could explain further, the waitress noticed Diana’s hand in the air and came over. She was a young girl, fresh-faced with her hair twisted into an artful bun on top of her head. “Are you ladies ready to order?”

  “Yes, but first, are the eggs cage-free and organic?”

  The girl nodded with a smile. “They are. If you flip the menu over, our suppliers are listed on the back. All local!”

  “And you have oat milk?”

  Considering the booze all three of them had poured readily into their bodies the day before, this interrogation seemed excessive. But Holly kept her mouth shut.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The waitress grabbed a small booklet from the center of the table and laid it in front of Diana. “Our drink options are listed here, including every type of dairy and dairy alternative we provide.”

  “Okay, and—”

  “And I want pancakes,” Lindsay interrupted, tossing the waitress an apologetic smile on behalf of Diana. “Blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and two slices of bacon. Thank you.”

  Diana’s upper lip curled, but she took the hint and ordered as well. She opted for an egg white omelette, avocado toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit.

  Holly had been so busy trying not to lose what little was in her stomach that she hadn’t paid much attention to the menu. But it seemed to be a standard brunch affair.

  “Coffee,” she said, holding up a finger. Caffeine was the only thing that mattered.

  “Bring the pot, please,” Lindsay added.

  “And then for food,” Holly finished, “I’ll take a ham and cheese omelette with a short stack on the side. Thank you.”

  Even saying the words made Holly’s stomach turn, but she had to eat something. Especially if she was going to keep up with Lindsay and Diana while shopping this afternoon. She needed to find the perfect outfit for the reunion festivities that evening, and there was no time in the schedule to faint with hunger.

  “I’ll put in your order and be right back,” the girl said. “There may be a small delay. We’re a little more crowded than usual this morning. But I’ll be back with the coffee in a minute.”

  The dining room was rather full. The harbor views at The Supper Club were a huge selling point, and Lindsay had hoped they’d get there early enough to score one, but many of the tables had been reserved. Holly had assumed retirees and stay-at-home moms with strollers would start rolling in to claim the reserved tables. After all, most people were at work at this time during the week. But most of the people seated near the windows were young. Holly’s age, probably.

  “If you look closely, you’ll see our old classmates,” Lindsay whispered. “Heavier and balding. But our classmates nonetheless. I’ve made awkward eye contact with at least three people I think I recognize.”

  “Caleb Mendoza is over by the sailboat statue,” Diana said. “He has been looking this way for the last ten minutes. Probably still obsessed with you after all these years.”

  Lindsay batted her lashes and threw her hair over her shoulder. “Can you really blame him?”

  Holly slid lower in her chair, shoulders lifting to cover her face. As silly as it seemed now, she had imagined a
grand entrance to the reunion. A Cinderella-like walk in where people would turn and be vaguely in awe of how little she’d changed. Of how great she looked.

  The idea that her classmates were seeing her for the first time with frizzy hair and bags under her eyes made her want to go to the reunion even less.

  “Honestly, you could do worse,” Diana remarked. “He works at NASA now.”

  “Caleb Mendoza?” Lindsay turned slightly in her chair, glancing back over her shoulder. Caleb, dark hair gelled up off of his face, was sitting at a table with a few other men Holly was too nervous to inspect for any signs of recognition. Ignorance was bliss at this point.

  “If you’d joined the astronomy club he invited you to twenty times, you wouldn’t be so surprised. He was super into outer space.” Diana smiled over Lindsay’s shoulders and waggled her fingers.

  “Are you waving at him?” Lindsay hissed.

  “Yes.” Diana smirked. “Are you suddenly shy?”

  “Are you suddenly not married?”

  “A wave is hardly cheating.” Diana rolled her eyes. “Troy has done his fair share of waving. It’s only fair.”

  Holly caught the strange tone in Diana’s voice. The line of bitterness underscoring it. But before she could parse it apart, Diana gasped softly under her breath. “Uh oh. Seems my honey attracted a fly.”

  Lindsay’s eyes nearly burst out of her head. “Is Caleb coming over here? No, he isn’t. Stop it.”

  “Not Caleb,” Holly assured Lindsay, catching the large shape moving towards their table out of her peripherals. “Someone else.” Caleb had changed a lot in the years since high school, but he hadn’t gained an additional twelve inches of height. Of that, Holly was sure.

  Diana brought her glass to her lips, talking behind it so no one could read her lips. “It’s Andre Wellington.”

  It was Holly’s turn to gasp. “No, it’s not. No way.”

  “He’s looking right at our table,” Diana said, her words coming out mumbled from talking through her smile.

  Holly could fake a bathroom emergency. But her friends would out her in a second, and then Andre Wellington would think Holly had incontinence issues. Which was worse: the most popular guy from their graduating class seeing Holly looking like a creature from the black lagoon? Or that same guy thinking she wore adult diapers? She only had a few seconds to decide.

  This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. Married. With two children. No matter how much the last two days had tried to convince her otherwise, they weren’t in high school anymore.

  Besides, Andre Wellington had probably become one of the heavier, balding people Lindsay had mentioned earlier. And even if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. Holly could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken to Andre during high school. He wasn’t coming over to talk with her.

  To cement her decision, Holly leaned back in her chair and grabbed her cup of coffee. Settling in for the show.

  “Look at the three loveliest ladies to ever attend Nantucket High,” a deep voice rumbled over Holly’s shoulder. “I see nothing has changed.”

  Andre was just out of Holly’s view, but she could feel the warmth of him against her back. The windows behind him cast his shadow long over their table.

  Lindsay looked up at him, and her brown eyes went starry, unfocused. “Well, if it isn’t Andre Wellington!”

  “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Diana asked, seemingly at ease. Her smile was as wide and perfect as ever. Practiced, almost.

  “I saw you wave. I was the only one brave enough to venture over, though.” He chuckled, and the sound seemed to rumble the floors. Holly thought she could feel it reverberate through the legs of her chair. “I’ve never been able to resist the allure of a beautiful woman.”

  Diana threw her head back and laughed. “Well, that compliment has earned you a seat at our table. Please, sit. Talk.”

  “Yes, please,” Lindsay repeated, sliding her chair over closer to Diana, leaving an empty seat next to Holly.

  Andre grabbed a chair from the empty table behind him and then seamlessly dropped down into it as he slid it into the table. The spiced, woodsy scent of his cologne overpowered the bouquet in the middle of the table instantly.

  Holly turned to look at him, just so she wouldn’t seem rude not acknowledging him, and all at once, she was faced with the fact that Andre was one of the lucky few who only got better with age.

  He’d been big in high school, the classic football player prototype, but even now he looked rock solid. The white sleeve of his short-sleeved button down was rolled once to reveal his muscled bicep. And the square lines of his jaw looked even sharper with a thick wash of stubble. Add to that warm brown eyes, full lips, and a full head of hair, and Andre was as much a heartthrob as he’d ever been. Probably even more so.

  He glanced towards Holly and that broke the spell. Smiling, she turned back to the coffee mug in her hand and took a small sip.

  “Tell us what you’ve been up to, Andre,” Diana said, leading the conversation.

  He shrugged. “A little of this, a little of that. You want the whole spiel?”

  “Yes, please,” Lindsay crooned.

  “Gotcha. From the top: I studied atmospheric science in college and found a position for myself as a meteorologist for the local news station in Tulsa.”

  “Tornado Alley? That must have been dangerous,” Lindsay purred, her eyes lidded.

  Diana and Holly made quick eyes at each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Sworn off men? Yeah, right.

  “Not as dangerous as everyone assumes,” he said. “I reported on a lot of tornadoes around the state, but I never saw one. I’d take a tornado over a hurricane any day.”

  “And are you still living out that way?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m in Portland now. While I was working in Tulsa, I ended up tinkering around with an app that did some specialized kinds of weather forecasting. It got picked up by a larger company out on the West Coast and it’s doing fairly well.”

  Lindsay giggled, a strange high-pitched sound Holly hadn’t heard before. “Like the weather app on my phone? Which one do you make? I’ll download it because mine is terrible. It tells me it’s going to rain every single day.”

  “It’s not really a weather app,” he explained. “More of a tool for media outlets, governmental agencies, the military. That sort of thing.”

  “Sounds important,” Holly said.

  “It’s important to our clients, which I suppose makes it important,” Andre said, flashing a bright, confident smile. “But it’s also a lot of paperwork and bureaucratic nonsense. You know how the government can be.”

  “Not as well as you do,” Lindsay said. “But there can be so many annoying permits required for interior design work. It’s ridiculous.”

  Nice segue. Casual.

  “That’s right. I heard you were doing interior design work now. That’s nice.”

  Lindsay’s brow furrowed slightly. “My celebrity clients certainly think my work is nice.”

  Andre either ignored or didn’t notice the venom in her voice as he turned to Diana. “And I have a number of friends in the government—mostly in the FDA and Department of Health and whatnot—who speak very highly of the work your husband has been doing.”

  “Do they? I’m sure Troy will be glad to hear that,” Diana said. “I don’t keep up with it much, to be honest. He is the science mind; I’ve always been the artist type. I actually have some ceramic pieces in a gallery.”

  Andre smiled and nodded. “That’s wonderful.” Then he turned to Holly. “And Holly Benson. Can’t forget you.”

  Actually, he could. Holly wouldn’t mind if did. After the way Andre had just dismissed her two much more successful friends, Holly was happy to go unnoticed. No one needed to make her feel any smaller than she already felt.

  “Hi.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and lifted one finger from around her cup in a wave. “How are you?”

 
“How are you?” he asked, turning the question around to her and leaning in to underscore the about-face.

  “Fine.” Holly laughed. “I’m a mom.”

  She could see her friends wince. This was not the spiel they’d practiced. But Holly didn’t want to pretend or apply a shiny varnish to the surface of her life. She just wanted to be honest.

  “I have two kids,” she continued. “My days are spent being their chauffeur and helping them with their homework. They’re in Boston right now with their dad, so I’m on a break today.”

  Andre leaned forward even more, his cologne wrapping around Holly like an arm, pulling her close. “Raising the next generation is a big task. Believe me, I know. I have a daughter. She’s thirteen now.”

  “Thirteen?” Lindsay asked. “You had her young.”

  “Young and dumb,” Andre laughed. “Her mom and I dated in college. It didn’t go anywhere, but we got her. The best mistake I ever made.”

  “That’s sweet,” Holly said. “So you two are close?”

  “She’s actually why I took the job in Portland. She and her mom live in a suburb not far from there. I wanted to be closer to her. Video chats don’t compare to regular weekend visits.”

  “Definitely not,” Holly said. “Before I moved back to Nantucket, I video-chatted with my family all the time, but it isn’t the same as seeing them.”

  “Not at all. And now that she’s in middle school, I have to work even harder to stay connected with her. She’s much more interested in what her friends are doing on BipBop or whatever social media thing she’s on.”

  Holly threw her head back and laughed. Genuinely laughed. She wasn’t the most social media savvy of the Bensons—that title belonged to the Sweet Island Inn’s social media coordinator, Eliza—but even she knew he was talking about TikTok.

  “I’m old, I know,” Andre chuckled, running his hand back through his hair. The curls were tight and shiny, the sides of his head buzzed short. Holly could see the gray at his temples. “Orah makes fun of me, too.”

  “I’m sure my son will make fun of me when the time comes,” Holly assured him. “Grady is eleven, but he seems older and more incomprehensible to me every day. I’m dreading middle school.”