by Grace Palmer
“Wayfarer.”
“Whatever! Who cares? I own a quarter and I’ll make sure my voice is heard. I have the best lawyers on call. I have rights here and—”
“The shares are rightfully yours. Warren gave them to you. If you want to honor his wishes and keep them, we’d love to hear your input.”
Grayson snarled, “I’m not honoring any—you won’t—this has nothing to do with what Warren wanted! This is about my sister throwing away her life and uprooting my mom to… to play a ridiculous game of House. This isn’t a real option. And as soon as those women figure out how to take our shares away from us, they will. Then you’ll come crying back to me, and I will give you the biggest ‘I told you so’—”
Jill hung up.
And by God, it felt good.
It was the only reasonable option, really. She’d promised to keep the conversation civil and the response she’d been formulating in her head was anything but. In fact, it involved several choice words she had been meaning to say to Grayson for a while.
But as her mom always said, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, better to say nothing at all.”
And nothing Grayson could say would change her mind. So click went the call. Jill let out a sigh that weighed tons and tons.
She left her phone on the island and walked through the swinging kitchen door and across the entryway. As she pulled the front door open, she thought she could hear her phone vibrating—no doubt Grayson blowing her up with more calls and texts. But she didn’t go back to get it.
One day, Jill hoped her brother would come around. That he’d visit the island and the Wayfarer. That he’d come meet his sisters and realize that they weren’t to blame for whatever chip he had been carrying around on his shoulder his entire life.
But until then, all Jill could do was what was best for her. And her mom.
And what was best was Martha’s Vineyard.
The Wayfarer Inn.
Home.
The sky was dark now, fleecy gray clouds covering the stars. The ocean sloshed against the shore, sucking at the sand as though it wanted to pull the entire island under water. Moisture hung heavy in the air. It would rain soon and Jill didn’t have a hood or an umbrella.
But she didn’t mind. A little rain never hurt anyone.
Besides—as far as Jill could see, there was nothing but blue skies ahead.
And maybe a rainbow, just out past the horizon.
Epilogue: Michelle
Seven Months Later—Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony
Michelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in Martha’s Vineyard for the holidays. It had been long enough that she needed someone to explain to her why there were at least several hundred teddy bears scattered around Main Street.
“It’s the Teddy Bear Suite,” Leslie said, as though that should answer the question.
Michelle looked to Jill, who shrugged, equally as clueless.
“Yeah, that doesn’t help,” Michelle said.
Leslie opened her mouth to explain, just as Shane grabbed her hot chocolate out of her hand and took a hearty sip. The theft earned him an elbow in the ribs, though it was softened with a disgustingly romantic grin from Leslie.
Michelle groaned. “Could you two stop being adorable for a second and help a sister out?”
“You’re just mad because you can’t be adorable, too.” Leslie leaned into Shane’s side and he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. “Where is Isaac, anyway? He was supposed to meet us here, right?”
“First of all, Isaac is just my friend—”
“Who you spend most evenings and every weekend with,” Jill cut in. “And who is constantly leaving you books on the front porch with very friendly inscriptions written in the front cover.”
Michelle snapped her attention to Jill. “You read those?”
She shrugged. “You should tell him to leave your name on the cover somewhere. I didn’t know who it was for, so I took a peek.”
Michelle blushed. “Whatever. Anyway. He is just a friend, but that isn’t what is important. What is important is why there are stuffed bears everywhere. I even saw one bear sitting in the back of Shane’s patrol car wearing handcuffs. That is not festive. Kinda twisted, to be honest.”
“Agreed,” Leslie laughed.
Shane turned to them, mouth open in mock shock. “Hey! It was cute.”
“You thought ‘Teddy the Felonious Bear’ was cute?”
He pursed his lips. “Okay, maybe it was a half-baked idea. But I was just trying to do my part. It’s a fundraiser for kids’ after-school programs.”
“It’s been going on for the last few years, but it was actually Shane’s idea to expand the teddy bears all across Main Street,” Leslie said, bursting with pride.
“Well, if it’s for the children, then I suppose I can get on board,” Michelle sighed.
Really, she was just teasing. She liked the teddy bears. Just as she liked the string lights that illuminated the outline of every storefront and roofline. And she especially liked the Christmas music playing over the speakers.
She’d been worried her first Christmas away from San Francisco, away from Tony, would be a big bummer. Just another reminder of how broken everything had become. But as she walked down the street with her sisters, perusing stalls filled with Christmas ornaments, cookies, and hand-knitted socks and mittens, Michelle couldn’t help but be buoyed by the cheerfulness all around her.
Besides, how could Michelle mope when Leslie was finally in a loving relationship? When Jill and her mom were both here for good and thriving? When a funny, handsome man liked taking her out dancing and leaving wonderful books in her mailbox?
Plus, December 31st was approaching, and the debt on the Wayfarer Inn was old news. They’d paid it off. Now, all they needed was a Christmas miracle that would make Grayson put a reasonable price on his twenty-five percent of the shares.
So, estranged half-brothers aside, things were looking up for everyone. Michelle felt like the year ahead would be a good one.
Jill grabbed Michelle’s arm and pointed across the street. “Tell me that isn’t Fiona!”
Michelle followed her sister’s point and her eyes landed on a very familiar-looking red-haired elf. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Are those candy cane tights?”
“And bells on her shoes,” Leslie cackled. “The woman doesn’t know how to do anything halfway.”
They all migrated across the street towards the booth. As soon as Fiona saw them coming, she wrinkled her nose. “No one say a word about my outfit,” she called out to them sternly. “I’m supposed to be a happy, jolly elf and I do not want to have to put the beatdown on anyone in front of the children.”
“Okay, we won’t mention your outfit,” Michelle said. “But what is the rule about mentioning your sparkly green lipstick and red-painted nose?”
Fiona narrowed her eyes dangerously, but couldn’t hold back her smile. “I signed up as a volunteer and—stupidly—didn’t specify which booth I wanted to work. I just assumed they’d realize my talents would be best utilized at the spiked hot chocolate stand!”
“The downside of being elf-sized,” Jill remarked.
“Don’t I know it!” Fiona shook her head and then gestured to the line of families snaking away towards a velvet throne a few stalls down. “Can I interest you ladies—and the singular gent; sorry, Shane—in a photo with Santa?”
“You know what? I think we’ll pass,” Jill said with a shudder.
Leslie grabbed Shane’s hand and tugged him forward. “I’d like to find the spiked hot chocolate stand, since someone drank most of mine.”
Shane just laughed and grabbed Leslie’s paper cup again. “Perfect. I’ll go ahead and finish what I started. Technically, I’m on duty and in uniform, so no spiked drinks for me.”
They really were disgustingly adorable. Michelle was happy for them, though. They’d always been perfect for one another.
A dark-haired man
with his nose in a book stepped out of Vineyard Books a few storefronts down the road. At the sight, Michelle stood a little taller and strained around the velvet chair to get a better view.
But when he looked up, she wilted. It wasn’t anyone she recognized.
The slump wasn’t lost on Jill. “Have you tried calling Isaac?” she asked. “Maybe he’s looking for you.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Michelle demurred, pasting on a smile. She turned back to Fiona. “Oh, and are you still good to bartend at the inn’s holiday party? Leslie said she’d talk to you about it, but I didn’t know if—”
“She did talk to me about it and I’m totally in. I’ve actually been working on a signature drink for you gals. Maybe a spin on gingerbread… ooh, or white chocolate liqueur!”
“Oh, no need to go to all the trouble. We’re happy with mulled wine and eggnog,” Michelle said.
Fiona wrinkled her nose. “I don’t have much in the way of family, so this is the only Christmas party I’ve been invited to so far this year. And if I’m coming, you best believe we’re going to all the trouble. None of that eggnog swill!”
“What’s wrong with eggnog?” Jill asked.
“The word itself, for starters,” Fiona asked. “Nog. It sounds like a cat retching up a hairball. No, no, and no. We’re doing things right!”
Suddenly, the Santa in the velvet throne stood up and beckoned for Fiona. “Where’s my little helper elf?” he called in some preposterously bad accent. Michelle couldn’t help noticing that he had stick-thin legs and his Santa belly looked an awful lot like a throw pillow taped to his midsection.
Fiona buried her face in her hands. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get me through this job,” she groaned. Then she brightened up and jumped into character. “Here, Santa! I’m on my way!”
“You’d better hustle on over,” Jill teased. “Santa’s workshop won’t run itself.”
Fiona made a rude hand gesture at her and everyone laughed. “Anyway,” she said, “my apologies, ladies. Duty calls. See you lovelies soon!”
Then she was off. Michelle and Jill watched her trundle off to the cheers of the dozen or so children waiting their turn to tell Santa their Christmas wishes.
When they turned back around, they realized that their companions had abandoned them. “Oh, wow, Leslie and Shane are way up there already. I guess she really wanted that spiked hot chocolate,” Jill teased.
“Or she wanted to get away from us so she could have some alone time with Officer Shane.” Michelle wagged her brows and they both laughed again.
Jill held up her hands. “I can’t blame her. I’d do the same thing if I had someone in my life.”
“You could, you know? Have someone, I mean. I’ve seen our single male guests hit on you countless times.”
Jill’s face flushed. “That’s the keyword: guests. Temporary visitors. If I do decide to be with someone, I want it to be more permanent than that. But you and Leslie may have snatched up the only two handsome, single men below the age of sixty left on this island.”
“I didn’t snatch Isaac up,” Michelle corrected. “No snatching has taken place. He is still very much unsnatched. I’m still married, remember?”
“Pfft. Barely. You’re divorced in every way that counts. And as soon as they find Tony and get him back in the States, you can make it official.”
Michelle had spent countless hours wondering if she’d made a mistake not calling the police the night Tony showed up on the Wayfarer Inn’s front porch. She could have warned them about Tony’s plan to flee. Truthfully, she didn’t think he’d really follow through with it. But now he’d missed a few court hearings and there was a warrant out for his arrest.
“Did Kat and Beth report those out-of-country phone numbers that kept calling them?” Jill asked.
“I did it for them.” Michelle shook her head. “I couldn’t ask them to turn in evidence against their own father. I’m still mad Tony even put them in that position.”
“Hopefully, it will all be over soon.” Jill patted Michelle’s shoulder and then dragged her towards a fudge stand. “But until then, we will drown in fudge.”
“That’s the way I’ve always dreamed of going out.”
Giggling, they each bought three squares and nibbled on them as they walked down the center of the road, humming along to Christmas carols. It was a nice enough evening that Michelle could almost forget Isaac had stood her up. Almost.
Because no matter what she said out loud, this had been a date. That had been made very clear.
“We could meet there or ride over together,” Michelle had said the weekend prior. “I could pick you up or you could… pick me up.”
Isaac had smirked. “Like a date?”
“Like carpooling. Saving the environment. Splitting the cost of parking. Very sober, rational, unromantic benefits.”
His smirk had only grown. “Sure, okay. I would love to do all of those things, including taking you on a date. But I actually have an assignment just before that. Should be a quick interview that won’t take more than thirty minutes. I can meet you there?”
“Sure. Of course. No pressure,” she’d said. “Either you make it or you don’t. No worries.”
Standing on the front porch of the inn, Isaac had leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’ll make it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”
Well, so much for that.
In the crowd and distractions, Michelle had lost track of Leslie and Shane. Until, suddenly, Leslie was running up to her, cheeks red and eyes wide.
“Michelle, there you are,” she huffed, skidding to a halt in front of Michelle. “Have you heard from Isaac?”
Michelle groaned. “No, okay? This wasn’t a date. He doesn’t owe me anything. I’m having a good time, so let’s just stop talking about—”
“Shane ran into an EMT friend,” Leslie said, cutting her off. “He just came off a shift with a bad car accident. The guy was unconscious and is in the hospital.”
“Okay,” Michelle shook her head, even as her heart started to pound. “What does that have to do with Isaac?”
“The guy drove a forest green crossover. And had dark hair.” Leslie winced. “… And he had a press badge hanging from his rearview mirror.”
Without another word, Michelle dropped the last piece of fudge she’d been holding in the middle of the street, turned, and ran.
Martha’s Vineyard Hospital
“Why won’t they tell me anything?” Michelle paced back and forth across the waiting room, her high-heeled boots clicking across the speckled tile. “We’ve been here for half an hour.”
Leslie had been pacing with Michelle, rubbing her back and trying to comfort her, but now she was sitting down in one of the blue padded chairs. “Shane is making calls, trying to get more information. I’m sure we’ll know something soon.”
Something. Anything.
The only thing Michelle had been able to confirm without a doubt was that Isaac was in a car accident. And that was only because they’d driven past his car on the way to the hospital. It was wrapped around a massive oak tree.
Michelle hadn’t even been able to see the doors. How they pried Isaac out of the car remained a mystery.
“I grabbed every flavor of sports drink they had. For electrolytes. And one of each type of candy bar,” Jill explained, walking back into the waiting room with her arms loaded down with supplies. “But the coffee machine was broken and a very strict nurse caught me before I could sneak into the nurse’s lounge and steal some from their pot.”
“Thanks, Jill.” Michelle grabbed a chocolate candy bar and took a bite. It tasted like sawdust in her mouth.
She should have told Isaac not to come to the festival. He had work and was busy. If she hadn’t put any emphasis on their “date,” maybe he wouldn’t have been driving down that road. Maybe he would have gone home and been safe. Maybe—
Shane walked into the room. Michelle was standing d
irectly in front of him an instant later, so fast that he actually jumped back slightly in surprise.
“Well?”
“Good and bad news,” he sighed.
“Give me both. I don’t care what order,” Michelle said.
“The good news is, Isaac is stabilized. He’s expected to be okay. Still unconscious, but okay.”
Michelle sagged. “Thank God.”
Leslie grabbed Michelle’s shoulders and squeezed. On the other side, Jill twined her fingers through Michelle’s. It felt good to have them by her side. She didn’t know if she’d be remaining upright without them.
“The bad news,” Shane continued, “is that apparently Isaac has family here and they aren’t allowing in any guests.”
Michelle frowned. “Family? How? None of his family live here.”
Shane shrugged. “That’s just what the nurse said. He’s in Room 313. We can try again tomorrow, but for tonight, I’m afraid we can’t—”
Michelle stormed past Shane and down the hallway. She’d walked by Room 313 at least four times already and had no idea he was in there. It was right down the hall.
“Michelle,” Leslie hissed behind her, “wait! Shane, do something!”
“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shane said.
Michelle tuned them all out. She didn’t need to stand vigil next to Isaac’s bedside, or make a grand soap opera entrance, or anything like that.
She just needed to see him. To confirm with her own eyes that he was okay.
She was almost there. “Room 307… 309… 311…”
Michelle stopped outside of Room 313.
The door was half-closed and the lights were off inside. But Michelle could hear beeping. Through the small window in the door, she could see a curtain pulled halfway around the bed, leaving only a pair of blanket-covered legs visible.
“Michelle!” Leslie whisper-shouted behind her.
Without looking back, Michelle knocked softly on the door once and pushed it open.