“I want to go outside!” Davey’s lower lip stuck out.
Sarge came to the other side of his chair and nudged at him as if adding his agreement to Davey’s plea.
“No whining,” Paul said firmly. “We’ll go outside this afternoon. For now, you can color or play quietly or watch a movie.”
Davey kicked at the table leg, walked over to the living room and threw himself on the floor, head buried in his hands.
Sarge nudged Paul’s hand again and then loped over to Davey and flopped down beside him.
“They’re hard to resist,” Amber said, then added in a low voice, “We could take them outside and let them play while we talk this through.”
“Thanks. I may take you up on that once we have the start of a plan.”
“Sounds good.” They studied the floor plan of the cottage Mary was pretty sure she wanted to buy, the one they’d all visited the other day. It seemed perfect to Paul, with the way it backed onto the water, had a fenced front yard and was big enough for a whole family.
“You know,” Amber said, “we should plan a really fun play area for Victory Cottage. Somewhere a kid would love to be. That makes a huge difference to a parent.”
She paused. “Of course, the kids could be any age from Davey or younger all the way up to Hannah’s age.”
“Big-screen TV,” Paul said promptly.
Amber shook her head. “Kids are too attached to their screens. It destroys their creativity.” She looked over at Davey, who’d changed the TV channel and was watching SpongeBob. “I mean, I get it. We all need a break, however we can make it happen. The cottage should for sure have a TV. I just don’t think a screen should dominate a room for kids, especially kids who are trying to heal.”
“How about a screen inside a cupboard, as a compromise?” Paul suggested. “Like in hotel rooms.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Okay. I can accept that, if we can make the rest of the area so appealing that they forget to open the cupboard.”
They talked about ways to do that, including an art station, a foosball table and video games for teenagers, and shelves of board games the whole family could play.
Amber seemed so healthy and full of energy and life. It struck Paul that she’d be a great person to have a family with. She seemed like the type who’d always be up for a silly board game, who wouldn’t mind if the kids’ paint spattered onto the carpet or a carelessly thrown ball knocked over a glass of milk.
The way he was thinking about how pretty she was, the way he was imagining being in a family with her...some part of him was reemerging after a season underground, like the green shoots that showed up in a garden in spring.
He looked at her, head bent over the room sketch she was drawing, tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth, slight fragrance of flowers emanating from her hair. His heart felt like it was physically reaching out of his chest, reaching for her. Longing racked him.
Maybe this could work.
Paul’s front door opened at the same time the doorbell rang, and his fantasies dissolved into tense muscles and a racing heart and sweaty palms. He stood, and it took him a minute to realize he didn’t have a gun to grab. He strode to the door as a cheery “yoo-hoo” came from outside.
“Hello, hello!” Georgiana said gaily as soon as he’d pulled the door all the way open. “Surprise!”
“Grammy! Grandpa!”
Paul put a hand on an end table to steady his suddenly sagging limbs. “Don’t burst in on me like that.” He pulled out the handkerchief he’d taken to carrying and wiped the sweat that had broken out on his forehead.
Georgiana stiffened at his tone. “He’s angry again,” she said over her shoulder.
“Not angry, just—”
“Daddy won’t play with me! Will you play with me?” Davey clung to Ferguson’s leg. “Can we go out in the jeep? And take Sarge?”
“We have an even better idea,” Ferguson said. “We’ve come to take you home with us for a couple of days! We can go to the car show and the toy store and the arcade by our house!”
“Yay!” Davey raised his hands in the air and hopped from one foot to the other. “When are we leaving? Can Sarge come?”
Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wait. No.”
Georgiana’s whole face tightened. “What’s wrong?”
He held out a hand to Davey. “Why don’t you run to the kitchen and get your grandparents a couple of cookies from the snack drawer.” He wasn’t kidding himself that Ferguson and Georgiana wanted his stale animal crackers, but he wanted to get Davey out of the room so they could discuss this.
As soon as he was gone, Paul faced his in-laws. “You can’t just show up unannounced and take Davey.”
“He just said you won’t play with him,” Ferguson said reasonably. And then he and Georgiana sidled past Paul and into the open-plan living-dining room. They both seemed to see Amber at the same time.
They glanced at each other and went still.
Paul walked into the living room, too, and looked out the big picture window at the sparkling bay, the sailboats, the gulls, reaching for calm. “You need to call in advance,” he said quietly to Ferguson. “I can’t let you take him.”
“Now, now, we drove all the way out here.” Ferguson frowned. “Surely you’re not going to tell us to turn around and go home?”
Amber stood and came into the living room area. “Sounds like you have family things to discuss,” she said easily. “I’ll head out.”
“No need,” Paul said firmly. “We’d planned to work on Mary’s project together this morning, and that’s what we’ll do. That way, Mary can look at it tonight and make her final decision tomorrow.”
Amber bit her lip, and then they were all frozen in an awkward tableau. Davey broke it by running in and thrusting a package of animal crackers at Georgiana, who took it with two fingers as if it might be contaminated.
“Look,” Paul said to Ferguson and Georgiana. “You can stay and play with him for a few minutes. An hour, even. But I can’t drop my work, and you can’t take him along.”
“C’mon, Grandpa, let’s drive the jeep!” Davey tugged at Ferguson’s hand. The older man shrugged and let Davey lead him toward the back door.
“I’ll just be next door once you get things worked out,” Amber said. Obviously, she wasn’t going to listen to his plea and stay, and he couldn’t blame her.
Once Ferguson, Davey and Amber had left, Georgiana beckoned to the couch. “We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” Paul said, and sat down heavily. “You can’t pull stunts like this. I know you were upset that we didn’t come for Thanksgiving dinner—”
“It’s all part of your illness,” Georgiana said. “Isolating yourself from the family, and isolating your son. It’s not good, Paul.” She drew in a breath. “We think we can provide better care.”
Paul didn’t get it. “Better care for what? What does that mean?”
“Better care overall,” she said. “We’ve been talking to our lawyer.”
A roaring noise started in Paul’s ears. “What?”
Georgiana patted his arm. “We’re just exploring the idea, for now,” she said, “but we’d like to work toward having at least partial custody of our grandson.”
“No!” He stared at her, his whole body tensing at the notion of being separated from Davey for part of each week, like some of the divorced families he knew. “Why would you even say that?”
“You have to admit,” she said, “things aren’t going well for you, Paul. We can provide so much more. And we think Wendy would have wanted us to have Davey.” She smiled at him, a shaky, stiff smile. “Just think about it. The last thing we want is a court battle.”
Paul tried to relax his fists, breathed deeply to keep his calm. They might not want a court battle, but that was what they’d get if th
ey tried to take custody of Davey away from him.
* * *
ON TUESDAY MORNING, Mary walked toward the cottage she was already calling Victory Cottage in her mind. Paul and Amber had done background work and recommended it strongly for the new program. Today, she was to meet her real estate agent there and make a final decision. Her head was spinning, but she’d pretty much decided she wanted to go forward with it.
Paul and Amber had all kinds of good ideas for the property, and listening to them, she’d been wholly convinced that buying it and renovating it for the new program was the right move.
Too bad Paul wasn’t as happy as she and Amber were at the prospect of finalizing the purchase. When they’d talked over coffee earlier this morning, Paul had been as jumpy as a feral cat.
More than that, she’d once again detected a vibe between them that was almost certainly intense attraction. She wondered where that would go, whether that was why Paul seemed on edge. Maybe he wanted something to happen between them and Amber didn’t.
But there was no time to speculate on other people’s romantic relationships. She had a house to buy.
It was a cloudy December day, quite chilly, and for a moment, she wondered whether the business model was a good one. Buy up property, put it to good and charitable use during the off-season, and make the money during the tourist season to support it. That was the plan, and it seemed to be working for the Healing Heroes cottage, which had been rented out steadily for the past two high seasons with rates that would pay the mortgage the rest of the year.
It would be sustainable even when she was gone, and that was her goal.
The only issue was the gloomy weather during the off-season. But most places had gray skies at this time of year, and plenty were chillier than the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
She headed up the sidewalk and tapped on the storm door. There was her real estate agent coming to the door, along with...Kirk James, holding a stack of paperwork? Really?
Heather opened the door for her. “I hope you don’t mind, but since you want everything pushed through quickly, I brought my mentor. He’s the one who knows how to do that.”
Kirk dipped his chin and looked at her over his reading glasses, some kind of challenge in his eyes. He knew she didn’t want to work with him, be with him, of course he did; he wasn’t stupid. It was just that he had a sales background, which fit his personality, and he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.
At the same time, as Julie had said, male pride was sensitive. And he was offering up his time and expertise without any real hope of a return on his investment. “I appreciate that, Kirk,” she said, and suddenly her last little bit of doubt was gone. “I do want it pushed through. Let’s get an inspection, make an offer, all of it.”
Heather glanced at Kirk, then back at Mary. “Um, can I ask why everything needs to go through in a hurry?”
No, you can’t. She didn’t say that, of course. That was a small town; everyone knew some of your business and wanted to know more. “I have my reasons,” she said. “Leave it at that.”
“All right,” Kirk said. “I’ll need to make some calls. What’s your deadline?”
“The sooner, the better.” They walked through the cottage one more time and talked about some more of the details. Then all three of them headed into town together. The real estate office was just down the street from the bookstore; everything was close together in Pleasant Shores.
The sun was peeking through the clouds now, and Mary’s mood was improving, too. This was going to work, and if it did, a weight would be lifted from Mary’s shoulders. If she could get the house purchased for this project, that would be one bunch of money Imogene couldn’t access. And maybe, if this worked...maybe she’d finally feel like she’d done enough and could stand up to her stepdaughter. “I really appreciate you taking the time to work on this, Kirk,” she said.
He smiled. “Not a problem.” In this mode, being businesslike rather than predatory, he was actually an appealing man.
Mary was feeling so good about things that it took her a minute to process why, as they got close to the bookstore, her heart was sinking. Then she froze.
There was Imogene. In the doorway, waiting for her. Mary’s feeling of hopefulness faded away and the day seemed to get darker.
Kirk and Heather had walked on, but now they looked back, saw her standing there unmoving, and stopped. “Are you okay?” Heather asked.
“I’m fine.” Slowly, miserably, she took a step toward the bookstore and Imogene, then another.
Imogene gave a glance toward Kirk and Heather and then focused on Mary. “Where have you been?”
Her rude tone goaded Mary out of her passive misery. “Did we have a plan to get together today?”
Imogene didn’t answer her question. Her skin sagged and dark circles resided under her eyes. “I need to talk to you.”
“All right.” Mary squared her shoulders. “We can talk in the store.”
“Now, just a minute.” Kirk squared his shoulders, walked over to them and put a protective arm around Mary. “Who is this woman? Do you want to speak with her?”
No. “It’s fine,” she said.
“You heard her.” Imogene lifted her chin, curled her lip and turned toward the door of the bookstore, bumping Mary’s shoulder in a move that clearly wasn’t an accident.
“Hey.” Kirk grasped Imogene’s arm. “I don’t like the way you’re treating her. Show some respect.”
“To my elders?” Imogene sneered and jerked her arm away. “I’ll show respect when they deserve respect. So far, I don’t see it.”
“Now listen here.” Kirk took a step toward Imogene, looming over her.
“No, you listen, old man.” Imogene propped her hands on her hips. “I need to talk to my stepmother, and you need to step aside.” As she spoke, Mary caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath.
Dread pressed down on Mary. Imogene had just revealed their stepmother-stepdaughter relationship. What else might she reveal if provoked, and with even fewer inhibitions than usual due to drinking?
She put a hand on Kirk’s arm. “It’s okay, truly. We have things to discuss.”
He studied her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t like it,” he said, and gave Imogene a glare. “You have my phone number, Mary. Don’t hesitate to use it. I can be here in five minutes.”
“And you have mine,” Heather jumped in, sounding nervous. Imogene was the type of woman who scared other women, always had been. She’d been a terrible bully in school.
“I have your numbers. Thanks for your help today.” She gave Heather and Kirk each a reassuring smile. “Let’s get right on the...project. I don’t want to waste any time.”
“Will do,” Kirk said, and Heather nodded. They both walked off, Kirk glancing back over his shoulder to glare at Imogene.
“Come on in,” Mary said to Imogene, feeling like a giant rock was pressing down on her. Judging by Imogene’s angry expression, Kirk had succeeded in making things worse.
All the same, when she glanced back to see his square shoulders as he walked away, she felt a strange urge to run after him.
CHAPTER NINE
FROM THE CHAIR where she’d been browsing travel books—of which Lighthouse Lit had a great collection—Amber watched Mary cross the store with the same hard-faced, dark-haired woman who’d bothered Mary when they’d first looked at Victory Cottage. She frowned at Julie, who was behind the counter. “Who’s that woman?” she asked as soon as the two had disappeared into the back room.
“I don’t know,” Julie said, “but she’s acting weird and so is Mary. Neither one of them even said hello.”
Amber raised an eyebrow. “Should we investigate?” she asked. Julie was always up for anything.
“I think we should.” A dimple showed in Julie’s cheek. “And maybe we should split them up. You take
Mary, and I’ll take the mean lady.”
“Done.” Amber set her book down, stood and headed to the area behind the cash register. The stockroom was dim, but there was a light on in the small office.
She was glad of the distraction, really. She felt at loose ends. After their work session had been interrupted yesterday, she’d written up some plans and emailed them to Paul, and he’d added suggestions and sent them back to her. No personal note, no mention of his pushy in-laws; just strictly business. They’d hammered out enough of a plan, by email, to send to Mary. Over coffee this morning, they’d talked things through, but Paul had been tense and impersonal.
The good news was that Mary had liked their recommendations. She’d planned to visit the place one more time and then make an offer. Most likely, that was what she’d been doing with Kirk James and that other woman who worked in the real estate office.
Now, with Hannah back in school, Amber needed to get going on a new project. Probably a different book project, which was why she was leafing through travel and medical books here in the shop.
But she couldn’t get very serious about it, not yet. So it sounded like fun to occupy herself with Mary and her problems.
She reached the doorway of Mary’s office. “Hey, Mary,” Amber said, “sorry to bother you, but I need help with the travel books.” She looked around the office. Mary was seated behind the small desk, and the other woman had pulled up a chair, so close she was almost blocking Mary in.
“Julie can help you, dear.” Mary’s voice was strained.
“Actually, I can’t,” Julie said from behind Amber. “I’m a real dolt with the ordering system, you know that. And we’ve got Henry Higbottom on the line, demanding to know when his books will come in. You know how persistent he can be.”
Mary got to her feet. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked uncharacteristically frail. “I’ll be right back,” she said, sidling around the other woman.
“You didn’t even introduce me,” the dark-haired woman said in a tone that was...disrespectful? Mocking? Amber didn’t like it.
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