by Olivia Miles
Heather was aware that her heart was beating quickly, even though Naomi hadn’t even spoken yet. She knew what was coming because that’s how this trip was going. All roads were leading back to Billy. Billy with the gleam in his eye and the friendly smile. Who for years wasn’t even on her mind and now couldn’t seem to get off it again.
“You might know him,” Naomi said, looking excited. “He was friends with the Morgans. Billy Davidson? He’s a doctor now on the mainland, but he’s here every chance he has. Well, other than the winter, of course. And he works at the Island Hospital sometimes too.”
Heather tried to keep her expression neutral. “Billy and I go way back.”
“Isn’t he handsome?” Naomi gave her a long look.
“Always was,” Heather said with a smile. She picked up an object that didn’t look too expensive but was pretty just the same—a small jewelry box that was carved with images from the island. It was probably only big enough to hold a few earrings or rings, but it was special, sentimental, and it would make a nice gift for Kim. After all, if it hadn’t been for her baby sister’s invitation, she probably wouldn’t have even thought to come back this summer. Never would have seen Billy again. Never would have had this unnerving sensation as this Naomi woman continued to talk about how friendly he was, always popping in with a smile, or sometimes buying a round for everyone down at Hackney’s.
She could picture it all. His inviting eyes, his infectious grin. And she wanted to be the girl he was buying drinks for. She wanted to be the one who got all star-eyed and excited just talking about him.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore.
“I think I’ll take this.” She set the jewelry box down on the counter, eager to get out of the shop even though Naomi was perfectly sweet and meant no harm. She had no idea that Billy had been Heather’s childhood crush, her close friend, and now, as adults, her glimpse of a second chance, or maybe…what might have been.
“Gift wrapped?”
Normally Heather would have said yes, but today, she needed air. She needed to walk and to think, but she also didn’t want to be alone. She was so tired of being alone, holding everything in, and pretending that everything was okay or would be okay even when it was becoming abundantly clear that it wasn’t and might never be.
She felt dangerously close to crying and hurried to slide her sunglasses down her forehead, shielding her eyes. “No, but thanks. I’m fine.”
She was very far from fine, but it was easier to say that than to admit why she wasn’t. To anyone, including her sisters.
18
Andrea
Later in the day, Andrea decided to take her laptop down to the Cottage Coffeehouse to work, only today she didn’t intend to check email or fret over what she was missing back in the office. Today she was bursting with ideas for the Morrison campaign, something that she’d been thinking about all morning on her daily run through Forest Bluff and then later, as she walked through the old house, refamiliarizing herself with the small details, taking in a newfound appreciation for the original builders and her ancestors who had preserved the structure ever since.
She thought about what Billy had said at the party, about her inheriting more than just her mother’s hair. Her mother had left the girls that house and Andrea intended to appreciate it, not take it for granted.
Lena was the first person Andrea saw when she pushed open the door and let herself into the small and cozy establishment just off the main street of town. She smiled at her friend as she came around the counter to hug her.
“I heard you were back!” Lena’s cheeks flushed as her eyes turned tender. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your mom. I know how much everyone was hoping to see her last summer.”
Last summer felt like a lifetime ago. Andrea had filled the time somehow, pushed the days together until they blurred, each one repeating the last. Until she stopped to think that she’d managed to get through more than three hundred fifty days without her mother, it didn’t seem possible. It was easier to not think about it at all.
Andrea managed a smile, but her voice was locked in her throat. She wasn’t used to talking about her mother—not her life, not the end of it. At work she could get away with this, focusing on business, keeping her personal life tucked away in a neat little box that she didn’t ever have to open if she was careful. But here, there was no escaping it. These people knew her. The real her. Not just the person in the expensive A-line skirt and silk blouse and heels. No, they knew the girl who had ridden her first horse at the stable near the woods, the girl who had fallen off her bike after attempting to ride it with no hands, only to end up with severely scraped knees and stitches compliments of the local hospital, which was smaller than her doctor’s office back in Chicago. They knew the girl who ate watermelon slices with a sloppy grin, who swam in the water despite the lake’s cool temperature, and who swore that she would always come back here, that nothing could stop her.
Even when it did.
“You know what I always say…” Lena winked as she went back around the counter. “Nothing cures a broken heart better than a piece of chocolate.”
Andrea laughed if only to lessen the weight in her chest. If only that were true. Still, she couldn’t deny that the large brownie Lena was pulling from one of the baskets behind the display case did look delicious and she had already clocked five miles this morning on her daily run. Maybe after this, she’d take a bike ride out near the North Shore Lighthouse, draw some inspiration from the homes set high on the hill looking down over the water.
“How could I resist?” She couldn’t, and she didn’t want to either. “I’ll have a coffee too.”
“On the house,” Lena said, holding up a finger when Andrea started to protest. “You’re on the island now, not in that big fancy city. We do things a little differently around here.”
They did. And they also did it better.
“We missed you for drinks the other night,” Andrea said as Lena picked up the coffeepot.
Her friend sighed. “We were completely out of flour, and so was the market, if you can believe it. An emergency run to Blue Harbor was in order, and then I got to talking to some of the girls I know over there. Such a cute town.”
Andrea nodded, even though she hadn’t explored it much, other than stopping for a quick bite a few times while she and her family waited for the ferry. She supposed it was a good thing that the idea of crossing the water for a visit hadn’t been broached a few days ago; it might have tempted her to get in Heather’s car and not look back.
Funny how now all she wanted to do was look back, and not just at the memories, but at history, at these homes, not only in how they were laid out or how they captured the light and the views, but who they were built for, and what they achieved.
She took her coffee and plate with a promise of seeing Lena again before she left, which she probably would, now that she knew that the Lakeside Inn was off-limits unless she wanted to look like she was seeking John out, which she didn’t plan on doing. Sure, he was nice enough, surprisingly appealing, and clearly one of the gang, even if she was starting to feel like the outsider.
But he also lived here. Year-round. And she wasn’t even sure if she’d make it back here next year. Or if any of them would, she realized a little sadly, thinking of how much their lives had changed and continued to do so.
Carefully, she set her coffee mug on the table beside her brownie and then unloaded her laptop from her bag. A glance around showed that other people were talking with friends or family, some reading a book, others looking out the window, where hydrangea bushes bloomed big and high.
She smiled at that as she waited for her laptop to power up, happy that she’d had the sense to charge her battery before coming here today.
Who was she kidding? She always charged her battery. Always did everything right. This was partly why it was so distressing that so much still went so wrong.
“Well, we meet again.”
Andrea loo
ked up to see John grinning back at her, and despite her earlier reservation, she felt her stomach roll over. “It’s a small island,” she replied, giving a little smile.
“Not that small,” he said, and she knew it was true. Evening Island catered to tourists and was therefore full of restaurants and dining options, some independent, other extensions of inns but welcome to the public.
She realized that he was stalling, as if waiting for something. Her eyes flicked to her empty chair. “Would you like to sit for a minute?”
It was out of character to even ask. Back in Chicago, nothing could have pulled her attention from her work, but here on the island, it would be rude to dismiss someone, even someone she barely knew. But what she knew of him she had started to like. He was a surprise. Like a house that looked one way from the outside and another on the inside, or like the big mansions framed as summer “cottages” here on the island, that were full of stories and mysteries, and fine-crafted details that made each one unique. She didn’t know what she would discover as she explored things further, but now she was curious.
She held her breath, not sure what he would say or even what she wanted him to say. His eyes glimmered for one telling second, and she tipped her head, riding out the wait. It was so much easier when it was a business meeting. With those, she immediately fell into the role, knowing her place. But here, she was on unsure footing.
“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” John said, but he was already pulling out the chair.
Andrea closed her laptop. “It’s not exactly work today. Well, technically it is. I was feeling inspired. I haven’t felt that way in a while.”
He looked interested as he sipped his coffee. “The island has a way of doing that to people. I’m living proof.”
She couldn’t disagree with him. “I was a little surprised to hear that you used to live in Chicago.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He looked sheepish. “Though I suppose I could be accused of the same.”
She mulled this over for a moment and then said, “No. I think you had a good read on me. Well, other than the part about me not appreciating the island. It’s probably my favorite place in the entire world, and I’ve traveled a lot.” At least, she did before she got on the track for partner at the firm.
“What makes it so special?”
She was a little taken aback and took a long drink of coffee while she considered her answer. “I suppose it’s the house. It was full of happy memories. The happiest really,” she added softly. “It’s not just a house, but it’s a home, even though it’s not lived in for most of the year.”
She smiled at that thought. It was probably the closest thing to a real home that she had, even if she didn’t visit often. Her apartment in the city had architectural appeal but it was functional; the most personal item in the entire eleven-hundred-square-foot space was probably the single family photo she had resting on her mantle. The artwork was meant to impress, same with the furniture. In some ways that was how their house in Grosse Pointe was, too, but the lake house…it was impressive, with its Victorian size and structure and waterfront location, but it was old and weathered and designed for comfort. For life.
She frowned on that for a moment.
“And you’re feeling inspired enough to spend this beautiful day sitting here instead of being outside enjoying the island?”
She couldn’t deny the irony in that. “Just while I have a coffee. I didn’t want to lose any of the ideas I had in my head. And my sisters and I could probably use a break from each other.”
He arched a brow. “You all seemed to get along just fine last night.”
“We’re not used to spending this much time together,” she said with a laugh. “This is more time than we’ve spent together since we were all still living at home.”
And it could be the last time, considering Kim was getting married.
“But you’re right. I think I’ll take my laptop over to the harbor in a bit. All that talk about preserving the architecture on the island got me thinking about how rare it is to see such care taken for more modern designs. It would be wonderful to create something classic enough and special enough to withstand the span of time.”
He gave her a funny look. “You love what you do.”
She thought about that for a moment. “I do. But I lost it for a while.”
He grinned and set down his coffee. “I can relate. Sometimes, it takes stepping away from something to appreciate it a little.” He checked his watch. “I should probably head back. I have a guy coming over from the mainland to give me a quote on some new patio furniture.”
“I like that furniture,” she said with a fond smile. It was old and weathered, but it was comfortable and familiar. New wasn’t always better.
Something she hadn’t thought about in a long time, or considered at all lately.
“Good to know,” he said, sliding back his chair. “I do value your opinion, you know.”
She gave a little laugh. “But you don’t even know me.”
Only that wasn’t completely true, not after the dinner. He’d spent most of the night talking to her, and she hadn’t complained or used one of her sisters as an excuse to get away. He was an interesting man. And she’d be lying to herself if she said she was interested in just his conversation.
“Then maybe I should get to know you,” he said. “You know, so I can be sure I’m not sending this guy from Blue Harbor back on the next ferry for nothing.”
She felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. “You wouldn’t really…”
He grinned. “I was thinking of changing all the outdoor furniture, but maybe instead I’ll just ask for a quote on the pool deck. You’ve given me something to think about. A lot to think about it, actually.”
That made two of them.
John stood. “Why don’t we try this again? Maybe without the laptop next time?”
She tried to suppress her smile, but her nerves got the better of her. “What did you have in mind?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something to make it worth your while. What do you say I swing by your place after lunch tomorrow?”
Andrea couldn’t think of a polite excuse, and she wasn’t sure that he’d accept one either. Besides, she was rather looking forward to spending a little time with this man. He was a friend of Gemma’s, after all, a part of their island world. Once, he would have been a part of hers.
“Okay then. Tomorrow it is.”
Her smile lingered for a while after he’d walked out the door. Suddenly tomorrow wasn’t just another day closer to getting back to the office. Now it was something to look forward to.
19
Kim
Kim set out her clothes on the bed, knowing that if she was going riding today, she should probably wear pants rather than the cut-off shorts she’d been living in since arriving here. Fortunately, it was a cooler day with a strong lake breeze. She found the small canvas backpack she’d kept over the years resting on the top shelf of her closet, happy to see that renters hadn’t tampered with it. She and decided to fill it with a water bottle, some snacks, and her wallet, in case she went into town after her ride with Leo.
Her cell phone caught her eye as she tugged on the jeans. She eyed it with trepidation, hating the funny roll of her stomach when she considered all the information it might hold. News. Updates. No doubt email about the wedding plans—final menu options and confirmation of the centerpieces. An entire reminder of a life that felt so far away and one that she wasn’t so sure she was ready to return to just yet. If ever.
She hesitated as she reached for the doorknob and then, just in case, she snatched the phone and tossed it into the bag, telling herself that she might need to check the time or something. She wasn’t wearing the watch that the Crofts had given her. It was nearly as difficult to look at as her engagement ring, not that she’d removed that yet, and not that she was sure she ever wanted to, either.
There had been a time when she and
Bran had fun—when he’d made her laugh on days she’d never thought she’d smile again. He’d given her something to look forward to in life, something to enjoy. Sometimes it was a movie or a play or a walk through a part of town she hadn’t explored much before—but always it was just his company that perked her up and made her forget her troubles.
She didn’t know when things had taken a turn. It had been gradual, but there was no denying that everything had changed for the worse when Bran popped the question and slipped this ring onto her finger. That was when the demands started: the endless family obligations and expectations of her now that she was about to become a Croft.
By the time Kim reached the bottom of the stairs, she was already in a sour mood and regretting bringing the phone with her at all.
“You going riding with Leo?” Heather asked when she came into the kitchen. She was seated at the old table, nicked and scratched from years of use that gave a view of the backyard and its lush landscaping through the French doors.
Kim pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and tucked it into her bag. “As I said, you’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”
Heather shook her head. “You know me and horses don’t mix well unless I want to end up falling off a bluff into the lake. Besides, I should probably work on this article. I’m running out of time.”
Kim fell silent for a moment.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to write about yet?” She scrutinized the fruit basket, which was picked over enough to warrant another trip to the market.
Heather sighed. “No. Any other ideas?”
Kim thought about it for a moment and then scrunched up her nose. “If it’s supposed to be a lifestyle piece, then maybe you can write about something in your life. Reuniting with old friends. Summer people. That sort of thing.” She checked the clock above the wall and realized she would be late if she didn’t hurry. Giving her sister one last smile for encouragement, she patted her arm and said, “You’ll figure this out. This is what you do for a living, after all!”