“I don’t want Lighthouse Lit to close, either,” Trey said. Mary hadn’t even realized he had come in. “I like getting my thrillers here, not online. I like to browse in person.”
A couple of other people chimed in on that one.
“As a college student,” Hannah said, still kneeling on the counter, “I like having a bookstore in town. Sometimes I need a book last minute, and you’re always able to get it quickly.”
“Can I say?” came a kid’s voice. It was Davey, here with his grandfather, who lifted him to perch on the counter beside Hannah.
He was so cute that everyone smiled. “Go ahead,” Hannah said, putting an arm around him to encourage him.
“I like story time!” He got up to his knees, bouncing a little, and Hannah put a hand behind to steady him. “’Cuz it’s okay if we don’t sit still!”
Everyone laughed, and Ferguson leaned on the counter beside Davey. “I like the store, too,” he said, “and my wife really does. She likes to spend our fixed income here.”
That raised more laughter, because it was pretty obvious that Ferguson and his wife had the opposite of a fixed income and could buy anything they wanted.
Mary wanted to thank everyone, but her throat felt too tight.
“Your website is accessible to people with visual impairments,” Drew called from near the windows.
Mary smiled at that. She’d had to learn a few things to make her website more accessible, and she’d had Drew in mind when she’d done it, but it was a help to a lot of other people besides him. She’d done it willingly.
A pang hit her. All that work would be for naught when the store closed down.
A few more people came into the store, and when Mary saw Imogene among them, her heart sank. She just wanted to escape the woman before she did more damage, either to the store or to Mary.
Trey, always alert, moved to the edge of the crowd, phone to his ear. His eyes never left Imogene, and at that point Mary realized that, most likely, Imogene was wanted by the police for vandalizing her store.
Then more people were saying what they liked about the store and pleading with her to remain open. Of course, it warmed her heart. Just having all these people around praising her business was wonderful. She waved a hand until everyone quieted down to listen to her. “You’re all wonderful,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough, but it’s likely that someone will open another bookstore in town.”
“Not the same.”
“It’s you, your touch.”
“We don’t want another bookstore, we want you.”
Mary put her hand to her heart and looked around, and her eyes came to rest on Imogene. Her face was a puzzle as she stared at Mary, a puzzle Mary couldn’t interpret.
The shop door opened again, and this time, a uniformed Pleasant Shores police officer entered. He approached Imogene, who tried to step away, but Trey had come up on the other side of her and blocked her escape.
The slight scuffle drew people’s attention, and Mary took the opportunity to go through the crowd to her stepdaughter. Trey had his hand on one of her arms, and the other officer held the other as he quietly read her her rights.
“Please don’t treat her harshly,” Mary said when the man had finished. “She’s truly suffered in her life, and she has her reasons for blaming me.”
“That may be,” Trey said, “but vandalism is still a criminal act.”
“You’re so rich,” Imogene snarled at Mary. “Why don’t you share it?”
Mary drew in her breath. It felt fruitless to explain yet again why she wouldn’t give Imogene money, how Imogene had squandered the money she’d inherited on drugs and alcohol rather than using it to fix her life.
“Mary does share, every day,” Drew Martin said. “We have a new museum in town because of her.”
“And the Healing Heroes cottage,” someone else said.
How had that become common knowledge?
“She donates plenty to cancer causes,” Amber said. “She’s done so much for this town. She’s incredibly generous.”
Mary’s face heated and she waved a hand. “Don’t,” she said. “I do what I can, but so does everyone else in Pleasant Shores.”
Imogene stared at her, her face seemingly frozen in hostile lines. And then, suddenly, it crumpled a little, and her eyes got shiny with tears. “Why does everyone love you? You’re just a rich old lady.” For just a moment, genuine longing came into her voice. “How’d you get past what happened, when I couldn’t?”
Mary studied her as the past thirty minutes replayed in her mind, nudging in all kinds of new awareness. She was loved. Despite all her flaws and mistakes, this community had embraced her. “I’m rich in friends and love,” she said, gesturing at the listening group of people. “That matters more.”
Imogene snorted. “You sound just like Dad.”
Mary pictured Ben’s kind face. “That’s a huge compliment,” she said quietly. “Your father was the best man I ever knew.”
“He was,” Imogene said, and suddenly, she sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking. “It’s my fault,” she moaned, rocking back and forth. “My fault.”
Mary knelt beside her. “It’s not your fault. Not even a little.”
“But I called him,” Imogene choked out. “I called him on his car phone and begged him to come home, and he did. And that’s why...” Her words ended in a wail and she buried her face in her hands.
Mary sank the rest of the way down to the floor, feeling like she couldn’t continue kneeling without falling over. “You called him? You didn’t tell the police that. Are you sure you’re remembering right?”
“I was afraid I’d get in trouble and be blamed,” she sobbed. “So I lied.”
Mary closed her eyes and put a hand on Imogene’s shaking shoulder. If Imogene was telling the truth now, it would explain so much. Why Ben had returned so quickly. Why her mobster first husband had suddenly left her alone. In fact, he’d died soon after the incident, leaving Mary all of his wealth.
She’d never understood how he could put a hit on his own child. But if he’d intended it to be for Mary, who’d betrayed him by marrying someone else, or more likely for Ben alone...and then he’d found out he’d caused Daisy’s death... She felt her shoulders sag as the pieces finally fell into place.
“Even if you called and caused your dad to turn around and come home,” she said, leaning close to Imogene, her words for her stepdaughter alone. “Even if you did that, that doesn’t mean your dad’s death was your fault. It was the fault of the man who hit them with his car. And the fault of the person who hired him to do that.”
Imogene had gone still as she was speaking, clearly listening.
“You just did what any teenager might have done.” And, Mary realized dimly, she herself had just done what any confused young wife might have done.
They’d both paid dearly for their mistakes, if they even were mistakes. They’d just handled their guilt differently—Imogene by ruining her own life and now trying to ruin Mary’s, Mary by endlessly working to make amends.
“Come on,” the uniformed officer said to Imogene. “We’re taking you in. You can come peacefully, or not, your choice.”
Imogene let out a sound almost like a growl, but walked along with the officer toward the door, the crowd of people parting to let them through.
After she left, Amber put a hand on Mary’s arm. “Will you stay? Keep Lighthouse Lit open, and keep living here with your neighbors and friends?”
Mary looked around at the group of townspeople, seeing so many beloved faces. It would be hard to leave, harder than she’d realized. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Maybe this will help you think,” Kirk James called from the back of the crowd. His deep voice was accompanied by a little yip, and then Kirk made his way through the crowd to her, holding Coc
o, now adorned with a big red ribbon around her neck. “I sure hope you’ll take her back. Too much work for me.”
The puppy struggled toward Mary, and Kirk set it in her arms. She cuddled it close, and as Coco licked her face, she let a few happy tears fall.
She wasn’t going to make any rash promises. She still had to think things through. But she felt safe, as if all these people’s caring had wrapped her in a warm embrace. That was worth changing her mind for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PAUL HELD DAVEY’S HAND and looked around the loud gathering of happy, slightly intoxicated people, all talking and laughing and hugging and kissing, and feared he’d made a mistake.
A Christmas Eve gathering at Bisky’s big, rambling waterfront house was not the romantic setting he’d have preferred for what he was about to do.
He’d proposed to Wendy on the couch. But when he’d consulted Trey about how he could go big with this proposal, in order to make up to Amber for all the mistakes he’d made, Trey had insisted that Amber would love being asked for her hand at a party. When Paul had expressed his doubts, Trey had called Erica, who knew her sister better than anyone else, and she’d concurred.
As a consequence, here they were at Bisky’s, spilling out into the yard and onto the docks under colored lights, for an occasion called the Feast of the Seven Fishes. Apparently, Bisky hosted the event every year.
They were, after all, in a fishing town. It was easy enough to get the food for seven seafood dishes. Bisky was half-Italian, so the Italian American tradition made perfect sense.
Paul had gone to church beforehand—he’d needed it—but the calm produced by the beautiful service dissipated as he approached the rowdy group. Was it even kid-friendly? But then he spotted a couple of the families from Davey’s class and realized adults and kids of all ages were here.
In fact, everyone in town was here. And he didn’t want that much of an audience, but for Amber, he’d do it.
He sucked in a breath, inhaling the fragrances of fish and spicy tomato sauce and garlic, and plunged into the outdoor crowd, heading toward the house, gripping Davey’s hand more tightly.
And there, on the other end of Bisky’s long porch, was Amber.
She wore a sparkling red dress that clung to her slender figure, and she was laughing at something someone else had said. She looked like an exotic bird that a mundane creature like Paul could never hope to catch.
He didn’t want to weigh her down, tame her fire, even if she was willing to be his wife.
“There’s Justin! Can I go play with him?” Davey was tugging at Paul’s hand.
Paul tore his eyes away from Amber, ascertained that Justin’s mom was keeping an eye on several small boys and let Davey run to join them.
When he turned his gaze back to Amber, she was looking at him. And then someone stood up in between them, and when he looked again, the spot where she’d been was vacant. She was gone.
He wove his way through the laughing, loudly conversing people, or tried to. But Bisky stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Hey, glad you came. You’re empty-handed. Let me get you a drink and point you toward the food.”
“It’s okay, I’ll help myself.”
“What kind of a host would I be if I let you do that? You have to eat.” Bisky’s words were ever so slightly slurred.
Paul had the feeling he wasn’t going to escape her firm grip unless he let her in on the reason he wasn’t hungry. “Actually,” he said, “I was hoping to find Amber. I have to apologize to her for something I said...something I did...that was wrong.”
Bisky stopped still and faced him, frowning. She was a big woman, nearly as tall as he was, and her expression was as severe as his fourth grade teacher’s had been. “Don’t you dare hurt that woman.”
“I did hurt her,” he admitted, scanning the room for that red dress. “I want to make it right, but I have to find her first. Did you see her go by?”
She looked into his eyes, then nodded. “She’s in the kitchen, I think.” She gestured toward the back of the house.
“Thanks.” He headed toward the kitchen, making his way through the crowd.
“Hey, my good man. Give me a hand with this?” Kirk James was about to pick up a large tureen of oyster stew that smelled fantastic. Paul needed to find Amber, but he hastened to grab the other side of the giant vessel, and the two of them carried it to the serving table. Immediately, people clustered around it.
As they walked away from the table, Paul asked Kirk how he was doing, figuring he needed to make some effort to be a decent party guest.
“I tell you what,” Kirk said, “I’m a happy man because my neighbor Mary isn’t moving away. I just wish I could make some progress with her.”
“I know what you mean.”
He must have said it in a heartfelt way, because Kirk studied him, then nodded. “Yes, I believe you do,” he said.
“If you don’t mind, I need to find Amber.”
“She was in the kitchen a few minutes ago.”
But when Paul finally reached the kitchen, filled with bustling men and women, lots of talk and laughter, and amazing smells, Amber wasn’t there.
“Anyone seen Amber Rowe?” he asked the group at large.
“She’s right...no, she’s not,” someone said.
“She was slicing bread. She must have taken a tray out to the docks.”
“She did,” someone else said. “That’s where they were asking for more.”
“The docks?” There were more people out there?
“There’s a table and tent set up out there, with gas heaters,” someone else explained.
“Thanks.” He headed that way, the ring in his pocket seeming to dig at him.
He wondered why Amber was playing a host role at Bisky’s party. But then again, she was a great cook, and this seemed to be a community effort. And that was the kind of person Amber was. Despite her supposed party-girl image, she was actually a nurturer to the core.
He walked down the porch steps, waving to Hannah and Mary and a couple of other people he knew. He kept moving so no one would stop him. He was on a mission, and he wasn’t going to relax and socialize before making one of the biggest moves of his life. With the most potential for embarrassment or failure.
“Daddy!” Davey’s voice rang out from the front yard, and then Davey broke off from the small gang of kids to run over and cling to his leg. “There are too dogs here! I wanted to bring Sarge! He didn’t get to have a party!”
“Sarge is better off at home,” he reassured his son. When somebody’s big gray wire-coated dog came over, too, along with a couple of little boys trying to ride him, Paul realized why Sarge had come to mind. “Boys, don’t ride the dog.”
They didn’t look inclined to obey him, but he channeled Amber and Davey’s teacher, Kayla, and went for a sideways distraction. “I think they just put out some cookies inside the house. They smelled good.”
“Cookies!” Most of the boys ran off, and the dog sank down into the yard with a sigh, obviously worn-out by his young charges.
Davey, though, didn’t seem to want to go with them. Instead, he snuggled against Paul’s leg. Understandable, since it was getting close to his bedtime.
The trouble was, Paul wanted to propose to Amber. He’d envisioned doing it without Davey there.
When you thought about it, though, they were a package deal. If he was lucky enough to have Amber agree to marry him, she’d be agreeing to become part of Davey’s family, too. Basically, to become his mom.
So it wouldn’t hurt to have Davey at his side, or at least close by. Besides, his son was so cute, he might improve Paul’s chances. He’d just have to time things in such a way that if Amber said no, Davey wouldn’t hear it and be devastated.
He picked Davey up and walked down toward the docks, where the party seemed to be
even more raucous. He scanned the crowd. Why was every woman wearing a red dress?
And then he saw her. Leaning against a post, looking out at the bay, a full drink in her hand.
Her clothes and hair were festive, her nails painted, her heels high. She looked every inch a party girl. But the expression on her face was pensive.
There was a sadness in her, or maybe just a depth, that he didn’t see in very many people. She’d been through a lot, lost a lot. She’d learned that life didn’t come with guarantees. And yet she went on, living and loving and caring and, most of the time, laughing.
He could recognize the sadness because he had it, too. He, too, had seen the dark side of life.
Beneath the surface attraction—and man, that was fierce—he felt drawn to her at the soul level. Like they could help each other grieve and grow. Like they could get through the hard times, not just the good times.
Davey squirmed against him, and he realized he couldn’t just stand here gawking at Amber. He needed to make his move.
First he texted Hannah. At docks in five.
He spotted Kayla, now basically cornered by a heavy-set guy in a fleece jacket and cowboy boots. She looked like she wanted an escape, so he carried Davey over to her. “Would you mind hanging with Davey for a few minutes?” he asked, then felt guilty, because it would take well more than a few minutes to convince Amber to do what he wanted her to do.
“I’d like nothing better,” she said. “Hi, Davey! Come sit beside me.”
The guy in fleece looked disgruntled.
“Whenever you need to move on, if I’m not back, just tell Davey to run over to me. I’ll be talking to Amber.”
Kayla gave him a knowing grin. “It’s about time,” she said. “And no rush. I love hanging out with my man Davey.” She handed Davey a cookie, and the man in the fleece jacket threw his hands up and walked away.
Game on. Paul straightened his shoulders and headed over to where Amber now perched on a bench near one of the heating lamps.
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