by Nora Roberts
Dru walked directly to Seth, slid her hand into his. “Hello again, Gloria. It’s funny, my mother doesn’t remember you at all. She isn’t the least bit interested in you. But my grandfather is.” She took a piece of paper out of her pocket. “This is the number to his office on the Hill. He’ll be happy to speak to you if you’d like to call him.”
Gloria slapped the paper from Dru’s fingers, then retreated quickly when Seth stepped forward.
“I’ll make you sorry for this.” She shoved through them, pausing briefly to snarl at Sybill.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Gloria,” Sybill told her. “You should’ve cut your losses.”
“Bitch. I’ll make you sorry. I’ll make you all sorry.” With one last bitter glance, she shoved through the door.
“You were supposed to stay home,” Seth told her.
“No, I wasn’t.” Dru touched his cheek.
NINETEEN
THE HOUSE AND the yard were crowded with people. Crabs were steaming, and a half dozen picnic tables were loaded with food.
The Quinns’ annual Fourth of July celebration was well under way.
Seth pulled a beer from the keg, grabbed some shade, and took a break from the conversations to sketch.
His world, he thought. Friends, family, slow Shore voices and squealing kids. The smells of spiced crabs, of beer, of talcum powder and grass. Of the water.
A couple of kids were out in a Sunfish with a bright yellow sail. Ethan’s dog was splashing in the shallows with Aubrey—old times.
He heard Anna’s laugh and the cheerful clink of horseshoes.
Independence Day, he thought. He would remember this one for the rest of his life.
“We’ve been doing this here since before you were born,” Stella said from beside him.
The pencil squirted out of Seth’s fingers. No dream this time, he thought in a kind of breathless wonder. He was sitting in the warm, dappled shade, surrounded by people and noise.
And talking to a ghost.
“I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”
“Nearly made a mess of it, and that ticked me off. But you figured things out in the end.”
She was wearing the old khaki hat, a red shirt and baggy blue shorts. Without any real thought, Seth picked up the pencil, turned the page in his book and began to draw her as she looked, sitting contentedly in the shade.
“Part of me was always scared of her, no matter what. But that’s gone now.”
“Good. Stay that way, because she’ll always cause trouble. My God, look at Crawford. How’d he get so old? Time just goes by, no matter what the hell you do. Some things you let go. Some things are worth repeating. Like this party, year after year after year.”
He continued to sketch, but his throat had tightened. “You’re not coming back again, are you?”
“No, honey. I’m not coming back again.”
She touched him, and he would never forget the sensation of her hand on his knee. “Time to look forward, Seth. You don’t want to ever forget what’s behind you, but you’ve got to look ahead. Look at my boys.” She let out a long sigh as she gazed over at Cam, and Ethan, and Phillip. “All grown up, with families of their own. I’m glad I told them that I loved them, that I was proud of them, while I was still breathing.”
She smiled now, patted Seth’s knee. “Glad I got a chance to tell you I love you. And I’m proud of you.”
“Grandma—”
“Make a good life for yourself or I’m going to be ticked off at you again. Here comes your girl,” she said, and was gone.
His heart wrenched in his chest. And Dru sat down beside him. “Want company?” she asked.
“As long as it’s you.”
“So many people.” She leaned back on her elbows. “It makes me think Saint Chris must look like a ghost town right now.”
“Just about everyone swings by, at least for a while. It whittles down by nightfall, and the rest of us stay here and watch the fireworks.”
Some things you let go, he remembered. Some are worth repeating.
“I love you, Drusilla. Just thought that was worth repeating.”
She angled her head, studied the odd little smile on his face. “You can repeat it whenever you like. And if you come home with me afterward, we can make our own fireworks.”
“That’s a date.”
She sat up again, examined his drawing. “That’s wonderful. Such a strong face—and a friendly one.” She glanced around for the model. “Where is she? I don’t remember seeing her.”
“She’s not here anymore.” He took a last look at the sketch, then gently closed the book. “Wanna go for a swim?”
“It’s hot enough, but I didn’t think to bring a suit.”
“Really?” Grinning, he stood up, pulled her to her feet. “But you can swim, right?”
“Of course I can swim.” As soon as the words were out, she recognized the gleam in his eye. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late.” He scooped her up.
“Don’t—” She wiggled, shoved, then began to panic as he jogged toward the dock. “This isn’t funny.”
“It will be. Don’t forget to hold your breath.”
He ran straight down the dock and off the end.
* * *
“IT’S a Quinn thing,” Anna said as she handed Dru a dry shirt. “I can’t explain it. They’re always doing that.”
“I lost a shoe.”
“They’ll probably find it.”
Dru sat on the bed. “Men are so strange.”
“We just have to remember that in some areas, they’re really just five years old. These sandals ought to fit you well enough.” She offered them.
“Thanks. Oh, they’re fabulous.”
“I love shoes. I lust for shoes.”
“With me it’s earrings. I have no power against them.”
“I like you very much.”
Dru stopped admiring the sandals and looked up. “Thank you. I like you very much, too.”
“It’s a bonus. I would have made room for any woman Seth loved. All of us would. So you’re a very nice bonus. I wanted to tell you.”
“I . . . I don’t have experience with families like yours.”
“Who does?” With a laugh, Anna sat on the bed beside her.
“Mine isn’t generous. I’m going to try to talk to my parents again. Seeing what Seth’s been through, what he faced down last night, made me realize I have to try. But whatever understanding we reach, we’ll never be like yours. They won’t welcome him the way you’re welcoming me.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She wrapped an arm around Dru’s shoulders. “He has a way of winning people over.”
“Certainly worked with me. I love him.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “It’s terrifying how much.”
“I know the feeling. It’ll be dark soon.” Anna gave Dru a quick squeeze. “Let’s go get a glass of wine and get a good spot to watch the show.”
When she stepped outside, Seth met her with one very soggy canvas slide and a sheepish grin. “Found it.”
She snatched it, set it beside the back door where she’d put its mate. “You’re a baboon.”
“Mrs. Monroe brought homemade peach ice cream.” He brought his hand out, with a double-scoop cone in it, from behind his back.
“Hmm.” She sniffed, but she took the cone.
“Want to sit on the grass with me and watch fireworks?”
She took a long lick. “Maybe.”
“Gonna let me kiss you when nobody’s looking?”
“Maybe.”
“Gonna share that ice cream?”
“Absolutely not.”
* * *
WHILE Seth was trying to cadge his share of a peach ice cream cone, and excited children
were bouncing in anticipation of that first explosion of light and color in the night sky, Gloria DeLauter pulled into the parking lot of Boats by Quinn.
She jerked to a halt and sat stewing in the messy juices of her fury laced with a pint of gin.
They’d pay. All of them would pay. Bastards. Thought they could scare her off, gang up on her the way they had and go back to their stupid house and laugh about it.
They’d see who laughed when she was finished with them.
They owed her. She beat the heel of her hand on the steering wheel as rage choked her.
She was going to make that son of a bitch she’d given birth to sorry. She’d make all of them sorry.
She shoved out of the car, stumbling as the gin spun in her head. She weaved her way to the trunk. God! She loved being high. People who went through life sober and straight were the assholes. World was fucking full of assholes, she thought as she stabbed her key at the trunk lock.
You need to get into a program, Gloria.
That’s what they told her. Her worthless mother, her spineless stepfather, her tight-assed sister. The sainted sucker Ray Quinn had tried that with her, too.
It was all bullshit.
On the fourth try, she managed to get the key in the lock. She lifted the trunk, then hooted with delight as she dragged out the two cans of gasoline.
“We’re gonna have some motherfucking fireworks, all right.”
She stumbled again, stepped right out of one of her shoes but was too drunk to notice. Limping now, she carted the cans to the door, then straightened up, caught her breath.
It took her a while to uncap the first can, and as she fought with it she cursed the gawky kid at the gas station who’d filled them for her.
Just another asshole in a world of assholes.
But her good humor returned when she splashed gasoline on the doors and the sharp, dangerous smell of it stung the air.
“Stick your wood boats up your ass. Fucking Quinns.”
She splashed it on the brick, on glass, on the pretty barberry bushes Anna had planted along the foundation. When one can was empty, she started on the second.
It was a thrill to heave it, still half full, through the front window. She danced in the dark to the sound of breaking glass.
Then she hobbled back to the trunk and retrieved the two bottles she’d filled with gas earlier and plugged with rags. “Molotov cocktail.” She giggled, swayed. “I got a double for you bastards.”
She fumbled out her lighter and flicked. And was smiling when she set the flame to the rag.
It caught faster than she’d expected, burned the tips of her fingers. On a little shriek, she heaved it toward the window, shattered it on brick.
“Shit!” Flames leaped along the bushes, ate down to the ground and crept toward the doors. But she wanted more.
She edged closer and, with the heat soaking her face, lit the second rag. Her aim was better this time, and she heard the boom of glass and flame as the bottle crashed on the floor inside the building.
“Kiss my ass!” She screamed it and gave herself the pleasure of watching the fire sprint before she ran to her car.
* * *
THE rocket exploded across the sky in a fountain of gold against black. With Dru nestled between his legs, his arms around her waist, Seth felt almost stupidly content.
“I really missed this when I was overseas,” he told her. “Sitting in the backyard on the Fourth of July and watching the sky go crazy.” He turned his lips to the nape of her neck. “Do I still get the fireworks later?”
“Probably. In fact, if you play your cards right, I might let you . . .”
She trailed off, glancing over as Seth did at the sound of raised voices. He was on his feet, pulling Dru to hers even as Cam raced toward them.
“Boatyard’s on fire.”
* * *
THE fire department was already fighting the blaze. The doors and windows were gone, and the brick around them blackened. Seth stood, hands fisted, as water pumped through the openings and smoke billowed out.
He thought of the work inside that old brick barn. The sweat and the blood that went into it, the sheer determination and family pride.
Then he bent down and picked up the high-heeled backless shoe at his feet. “It’s hers. Stay with Anna and the rest,” he told Dru, and went to his brothers.
* * *
“COUPLE of kids heard the explosion and saw the car drive away.” Cam rubbed his hands over eyes that stung from smoke. “Not much doubt it was arson since she left the gas cans behind. They got the make and model of her car, and a description. She won’t get far.”
“She’ll see this as payback,” Seth said. “Fuck with me, I’ll fuck with you more.”
“Yeah, well, she’s got a surprise coming. This time she’s going to jail.”
“She messed us up real good first.”
“We’re insured.” Cam stared at the blackened brick, the trampled bushes, the stream of smoke still belching out of the broken door.
The pain in his heart was a physical stab. “We put this place together once, we can do it again. And if you’re planning on taking any guilt trips—”
“No.” Seth shook his head. “That’s done.” He held out his hand as Aubrey walked to them.
“We’re okay.” She squeezed his fingers. “That’s what counts.” But the tears on her cheeks weren’t all from smoke.
“Hell of a mess,” Phillip said as he walked up. His face was smeared with soot, his clothes filthy with it. “But it’s out. Those kids who called nine-one-one saved our asses. Fire department responded in minutes.”
“You got their names?” Cam asked him.
“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “Ethan’s over talking with the fire marshal. He’ll let us know when we’re clear to go in. It’s gonna be a while with the arson investigation on top of it.”
“Which one of us is going to talk the women into taking the kids home?”
Phillip stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out a coin. “Flip you for it. Heads it’s your headache, tails it’s mine.”
“Deal. But I flip. Your fingers are a little too sticky to suit me.”
“You saying I’d cheat?”
“Over this? Damn right.”
“That’s cold,” Phillip complained, but handed over the coin.
“Damn it.” Cam hissed through his teeth when he flipped heads.
“Don’t even think about saying two out of three.”
Scowling, Cam tossed Phillip the coin, then stalked over to argue with the women.
“Well.” Phillip folded his arms and studied the building. “We could say screw it, move to Tahiti and open a tiki bar. Spend our days fishing until we’re brown as monkeys and our nights having jungle sex with our women.”
“Nah. Live on an island, you end up drinking rum. Never had a taste for it.”
Phillip slapped a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Then I guess we stick. Want to break it to Ethan?” He nodded toward his brother as Ethan crossed the muddy lawn.
“He’ll be okay. He doesn’t like rum either.” But the optimism Seth was fighting to hold on to wavered when he saw Ethan’s face.
“They picked her up.” Ethan swiped a forearm over his sweaty brow. “Sitting in a bar not five miles out of town. You all right with that?” he asked Seth.
“I’m fine with that.”
“Okay then. Maybe you ought to go talk your girl into going on home. It’s going to be a long night here.”
* * *
IT was a long night, and a long day after. It would be, Seth thought, some long weeks before Boats by Quinn was back in full operation.
He’d tromped through the wreckage and the stink of the building, mourned with his brothers and Aubrey the loss of the pretty, half-built hull of a skiff that was now no mo
re than scraps of blackened teak.
He grieved over the sketches he’d drawn from childhood on, which were nothing but ashes. He could, and would, reproduce them. But he couldn’t replace them, nor the joy each one had given him.
When there was no more to do, he went home, cleaned up and slept until he could do more.
It was nearly dusk the next evening when he drove to Dru’s. He was tired down to the bone, but as clearheaded as he’d been in his life. He hauled the porch swing he’d bought out of the bed of the truck he’d borrowed from Cam, got his tools.
When she stepped out, he was drilling in the first hook.
“You said you wanted one. This seemed like the place for it.”
“It’s the perfect place.” She walked over, touched his shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“I will. That’s why I’m here. Sorry I didn’t get in touch today.”
“I know you’ve been busy. Half the town’s been in and out of my shop, just like half the town was there at the fire last night.”
“We got more help than we could handle. Fire didn’t spread to the second level.”
She knew. Word spread every bit as quickly as flame. But she let him talk.
“Main level’s a wreck. Between the fire, the smoke, the water, we’ll have to gut it. Lost most of the tools, toasted a hull. Insurance adjuster was out today. We’ll be okay.”
“Yes, you’ll be okay.”
He stepped over to drill for the second hook. “They arrested Gloria. Kids made her car, and the kid who sold her the gas ID’d her. Plus she left her fingerprints all over the gas can she dumped outside the building. When they picked her up for questioning, she was still wearing one shoe. Losing shoes seems to be going around.”
“I’m so sorry, Seth.”
“Me too. I’m not taking it on,” he added. “I know it’s not my fault. All she managed to do was mess up a building. She didn’t hurt us. She can’t. We’ve built something she can’t touch.”