“Can I have your attention, please?” Coco pleads, banging the gavel loudly three times. “As a part-owner of this island, I have the right to call a meeting to order, and I deserve the courtesy of having you all sit down to listen.” She tosses her head in annoyance, flipping her shiny bob over one shoulder with the movement.
The islanders slowly creak into chairs, some working their aging hips and knees into a sitting position in stages. Maria Agnelli takes her seat in the front row, settling her small, thin frame into a chair and folding her arms across her chest as she stares up at Coco. Jake leans against the wall, silently refusing to sit, and Cap Duncan and Wyatt Bender choose aisle seats across from one another, their legs spread wide so that their feet take up space in the aisle.
“I have several things I’d like to discuss with you all,” Coco says too loudly as she tries to talk over the dying din. “But first I think we should introduce the newcomers, as I haven’t even had the chance to acquaint myself with them.”
“Well,” Maria Agnelli pipes up, clearing her throat. “If you’d spent any time here over the years, you’d probably at least know Hal and Sadie Pillory’s granddaughter, Katelynn.”
Coco blinks rapidly. “I have spent time on this island, Maria—don’t be ridiculous.” A roomful of disbelieving faces stares back at her.
“Let’s not mince words here, doll,” Bonnie says, standing up at her seat in the third row. She isn’t normally one to speak up at village council meetings, but with Holly gone, it almost feels like her duty to hold Coco’s feet to the fire. “You have a grand scheme that you want to pitch to all of us, so let’s just get down to it.”
The triplets are seated a few seats away from Bonnie, and they lean forward in their chairs so that they can make eye contact with her. Gwen nods in support, winking at Bonnie when she gets her attention.
“Fine, if you want to dispense with the pleasantries,” Coco says, her face flushed from the shock of being called out. “I’d like to propose a business opportunity to all of you that I think is a fabulous compromise. As you probably know, I’ve been trying to find investors for the island for some time now, and I’ve had my eye on selling Christmas Key to someone who might be able to fund improvements in a way that Holly, Leo, and I are unable to.” Coco waves a hand in Buckhunter’s general direction, though it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s as much in the dark as anyone else in the room.
Coco has made no secret of the fact that she thinks very little of having Buckhunter as a half-brother, and their discussions about island business have gone about as well as the ones that Coco has had with Holly. In fact, on numerous occasions, Holly and Buckhunter have stood in a united front against Coco, directly blocking her from doing the things she wants—the things she feels are her right—to do with Christmas Key.
“I brought some guests here this week to show them around and let them get a feel for the island, and I think it went well,” Coco says, trying to keep her eyes focused on the space just above everyone’s heads. “Brice and Netta Killjoy are investors from Tulsa, and they’re interested in partnering with the Seminole tribe to turn Christmas Key into a premier gambling destination.” The essence of her plan falls on a silent crowd. Coco feels a jolt of panic as a shocked stillness settles over the room. No one says a word.
“We’ve been looking at the north side of the island,” Coco continues, “and it seems like the best place to build a dock and hotel.” There’s a gasp from the center of the room at the mention of building a hotel. “Right now we’re thinking about a two-hundred room resort with a fully-functioning, top-notch casino. That means restaurant, bar, spa, and five-star amenities.”
“But we already have restaurants, bars, and a salon here,” Maria Agnelli says, speaking the thoughts that are in the minds of everyone around her. “And think of what a bunch of new people would mean for the businesses we already have. Why would we want competition from some resort?”
“That’s a good question, Maria,” Coco says. She picks up the glass of water she’s positioned on the podium and takes a drink to buy herself some time. She sets it down again and leans her elbows on the stand. “But a fully-staffed resort will have employees, and those people will need somewhere to live, shop, eat, and drink. So think of the increased business you’d have around here just from the new residents who’d live here full-time.”
“No.” Cap Duncan stands up and moves into the aisle. He jabs one large index finger in Coco’s direction. “No way. This goes against everything Holly has been building towards. It goes against everything your father wanted, and it’ll tear this island apart.” Cap’s brief run for mayor against Holly just six months before had been based on the fact that he wanted zero progress, so it’s no shock to anyone that he’s vehemently opposed to Coco’s plan.
“Let’s not bring my father into this,” Coco says. She stands up straight again and slaps a palm against the podium. “He made enough of a mess when he was alive, and his wishes are not relevant when it comes to our plans for the future.”
“The hell they’re not!” Ray Bradford stands up and Millie reaches for his hand with a worried look on her face. “Your parents had a vision for this place that’s been reinforced time and again. We all know what they wanted, and we’re pretty much living their dream right now.”
“Here, here!” Jimmy Cafferkey shouts. Iris whacks him on the arm with her hand, less out of embarrassment than from sheer habit.
“Anything Holly’s done has been with the best interests of all of us in mind, and even that cockamamie reality show she brought here turned out to be pretty fun in the end,” Cap says. “Except for Jake—sorry, buddy.” He raises an apologetic hand at Jake, not quite meeting his eye. Jake tips his head in acknowledgment of the show that brought the short-lived relationship with Bridget into his life.
“But this,” Cap goes on. “This casino goes against Holly’s careful plans for expansion, and it threatens to bring in drunken, gambling riffraff. It’ll also flood our community with strangers and their families who just want to make a living off of this casino.”
“Where would we even house all these people?” Ray Bradford asks, still standing.
“Part of our discussion was the need for housing,” Coco says, obviously proud that she’s got answers to their questions. “The Killjoys are interested in funding a low-cost alternative to the casino workers in the form of a multi-unit condominium complex. There’s plenty of room for that on the west side of the island, near the property my parents claimed as the family’s private land.”
“I can’t tell whether I’m dying, or if my lunch is just repeating on me,” Maria Agnelli says, putting one birdlike hand to her chest and making an unpleasant face. “Cottage cheese doesn’t taste too good when it comes back up.”
The crowd roars to life in front of Coco, anger and disapproval tearing through the dining room like someone’s touched a match to spilled gasoline. Maria Agnelli is still thumping her chest and swallowing in the front row. She shakes her head.
Ray and Cap have begun a debate that consists mostly of insults that they’d like to hurl in Coco’s direction, and Jake has one hand over his unshaven face as he imagines how Holly will react to all of this.
“What the hell is going on around here?” Katelynn Pillory asks Jake as she steps over the bare, liver-spotted knees of her grandfather, who had demanded to be included in the village council meeting, though he’s been sitting there stonily for most of it, saying nothing. She reaches out a hand as she almost trips over her grandpa’s foot and Jake catches her, helping her find her balance again.
“Coco,” he says to Katelynn, folding his arms and nodding at the beast behind the podium. “Coco is what’s going on, and it’s not good.”
Katelynn leans a shoulder against the wall next to Jake. Coco is talking loudly to the triplets, who’ve all approached the front of the room. The tendons in her neck are strained as she tries to talk over the three angry women whose faces are normall
y sunny and bright. As the owners of the only gift shop and grocery store in town, it would make sense for them to be in favor of some real expansion, but from the looks of it, they’re just as opposed to Coco’s plan as everyone else in the room.
“I take it Holly doesn’t know about any of this,” Katelynn asks in a low voice, the register of which feeds directly into Jake’s ear canal, sliding in under the higher-pitched yelling of the rest of the crowd.
“No one has been able to get ahold of her since she left, so I don’t think she has a clue,” he says. Katelynn is standing close enough to him that their shoulders touch lightly when she moves.
“I know I probably don’t have a right to even have an opinion yet, but this seems like a really crappy move.” Katelynn watches Jake’s face as his strong jaw and cheekbones flex and clench.
“It is a really crappy move,” he says, meeting her eye. “Pretty much every move Coco makes is a crappy one.” There’s a long, intense look that passes between Jake and Katelynn, and the spark in her brown eyes turns them to chips of amber as he stares into them.
“Oh my God!” Millie Bradford yells from the center of the room. Somehow, over the noise of the angry mob of islanders, her voice carries. “Ray!” she screams.
A hush falls over the crowd as Ray Bradford keels forward. He’s still talking to Cap, and Cap reaches out and catches the other man’s forearms in his large hands. He holds the bulk of Ray’s weight as Ray falls to his knees, his face red and contorted in pain. As everyone watches, stunned into inaction, Fiona jumps out of her seat next to Buckhunter and steps up onto a line of chairs, walking across the seats in order to get to Ray as quickly as possible.
“Back up!” she shouts, stepping down onto the carpet from the chair and dropping to her knees next to Ray. “Ray? Can you hear me?” she asks loudly, helping Cap to lay him down on the dining room floor. “Ray, I need you to keep your eyes on me, okay?” Fiona finds the pulse in Ray’s wrist and starts counting in her head. “Cap,” she says calmly. “Do you have gas in your boat?”
“Always,” Cap replies, watching Ray’s face as his eyes go glassy.
“We’re going to need a ride to Key West,” Fiona says with a grim face. “Ray is having a heart attack.”
17
The five minute ferry ride from the train station across the water in Amsterdam drops its passengers at a dock that’s flanked by a restaurant and a few dessert carts. Holly and River have quickly made a habit of stopping at the carts so that she can get a pastry each time they walk from the ferry to the houseboat they’ve rented on a narrow road called Buiksloterwag.
“You think we should go to Anne Frank’s house?” Holly asks around a bite of a pastry that looks like a toaster waffle and a rainbow sprinkle cupcake had a baby.
“We could do that,” River says amiably, chewing a piece of gum as he walks down the pedestrian sidewalk next to her. Bikes whiz by them on the paved road that’s reserved for cyclists only. “You’re not worried about eating all these desserts?”
“Why should I be?” Holly looks up at him just as she’s about to take another bite.
“I dunno, just wondering. You live in a bikini at home, so I thought you might be worried about putting on five pounds.”
Holly frowns. Is this what he thinks of her? That she’s the kind of girl who’d pass up dessert in a foreign country so that her bathing suit will fit when she gets back home? After thinking about it for a second, she takes another huge bite. “Nope,” she says. “I’m not worried. Life is too short not to eat dessert.”
River waves the waffle away when she holds it out to offer him a bite. “I’m chewing gum,” he says, pointing at his mouth. “And I’m thinking ahead to that film in Dublin. The camera adds ten pounds, so I don’t want to put on any extra padding.” He pats his flat stomach as they walk.
His eyes focus on a spot in the distance as they walk, and Holly knows he’s envisioning that the final ‘yes’ of their trip will be to a film shoot in Ireland. Rather than discuss it, she changes the subject.
“We’ve also got the van Gogh museum to see, and we can do a boat tour of the canals,” Holly says, pulling the tourist map from the back pocket of her jeans and thrusting it at River.
The sun is out and most of the people around them are wearing lightweight dresses and short-sleeved shirts, but the sixty-degree weather feels chilly to Holly’s tropical blood, and she’s got a thick sweatshirt on over her t-shirt. River examines the map as they walk, and—feeling self-conscious about the waffle, though it makes her angry that she’s even giving it a second thought—Holly tosses the remainder of her snack into a trash can and brushes the sprinkles from her hands.
“We could go to the top of that building there and check out the view of the city,” River says. “There’s a swing that goes over the edge of the building so it feels like you’re floating over Amsterdam—it’s the tallest swing in Europe.”
“Nope,” Holly says immediately and without consideration. “No, no, no. And a great big hell no.”
River laughs. “Are you kidding me? This is a once in a lifetime experience. And, may I remind you, the answer to anything on this trip is what?”
Holly inhales and exhales once, standing at the mouth of the ferry as they look up at the A’dam Lookout building to the north. “The answer to everything on this trip is yes,” she says in a flat tone. “Except dessert. The answer to that is apparently no.” She can’t resist adding this last part, though she says it in a half-mumble.
“Oh, come on, Hol. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” River pulls her to the side to avoid being flattened by a Dutch woman in a skirt and clogs as she rolls her bike to a stop in front of the ferry. “Listen, we probably need breakfast—a real breakfast—before we do anything else. Let’s go in here and get some grub, okay? Being hungry makes me grumpy, and living on sugar alone can’t be good for your mood.”
“Or the size of my butt,” she adds unhappily.
They look both ways and enter a small cafe with views of the ferry and the train station on the other side of the ferry route. People stream by the windows as they take a seat in wooden chairs and order two full breakfasts with coffee. They wait quietly for the food to arrive, neither willing to acknowledge the strange turn their moods have taken.
The waitress sets toast, slices of cheese, hardboiled eggs balanced in little egg cups, and dishes of yogurt with granola on the table. River immediately tears off a hunk of bread and cheese.
“So what’s going on here?” he asks, biting into the thick toast.
Holly dips a spoon into the bowl of yogurt in front of her, swirling the chunks of granola and the dab of honey around like she’s stirring a pot of soup. She shrugs.
“Eat something, will you?” River reaches for the small silver pitcher of milk and pours some into his coffee. “I’m not kidding. I know you’re the queen of feasting on whatever is closest and living off the remnants of your bare cupboards, but we’ve been on the go for a couple of days and all I’ve seen you do is snack. Here.” He pushes her egg cup closer and nods at it. “Protein.”
Holly says nothing as she peels the shell from her egg and dips the corner of her toast into its runny center. She takes a bite, then another.
“You’re super-sensitive and I can tell you’re not all here,” River says carefully, looking down at his mug as he clinks a spoon around inside of it, stirring the milk and coffee until the liquid turns a creamy color. “I could tell you weren’t into the modeling gig, and that’s fine.” He sets the spoon on the saucer and picks up his mug. “But that job is basically funding our entire trip, and it’s all because we weren’t afraid to say yes to something crazy. Can’t you see that?”
“I know,” Holly says, picking up her other wedge of toast. “I get that. The saying yes thing is kind of fun, but can I be honest with you?” This would be the perfect time to tell him about the computer at the country house and the emails she got from Bonnie. She could come clean with him and be f
ree of the nagging voice in her head that’s constantly reminding her about the fact that she’s essentially lying to him. All it’ll take is a few words—an honest admission about what happened—and then they can clear the air and go from there.
River pulls back slightly, a worried look on his face. “Of course you can be honest with me. I think you have to, or this is never going to work.” He pushes his bowl of yogurt and granola to the side and focuses on the bread and cheese again.
Holly sighs. She’s ready to tell him the truth. Maybe he’ll laugh and say he knew it all along. Or maybe he’ll feel some sympathy and offer to pull out his phone and charge it up in the boathouse for her so that she can make a call home. But most likely he’ll be disappointed in her for being cagey and secretive. Her heart seizes up as the words stack up on her tongue, ready to spill over.
“I’m just…I guess I’m a little preoccupied about what’s going on at home. I can’t help it,” she says lamely, not able to meet his eye. “When I’m there, it’s all I do—you know that. I plan things, I worry about things, I fix things. And being so far away makes it really hard to know what needs planning, worrying, or fixing.”
River is nodding at her from across the table, his hands laced together on the tabletop, mug of coffee at his elbow. “I get it,” he says kindly. “Christmas Key is in your blood. It’s not just a job for you. That’s one of the things I love most about you.” River’s voice drops a notch or two. “Among other things,” he says with a smile.
This makes Holly feel even worse. In an instant, she’s avoided being honest with him, elicited his sympathy, and gotten him to say nice things to her. The guilt inside of her feels like salt rubbed into a paper cut. Unexpected tears prick at the back of her eyes.
“Hey,” River says, reaching across the table and taking her hands in his. “What’s wrong?” He gives a small, surprised laugh. “Don’t cry.”
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