[Madrona Island 04.0] Madrona Island B&B

by Andrea Hurst

  “That man,” Roma continued. “I suppose he picked out the too-tight dress under your apron as well.”

  “I don’t think my jeans and sweatshirt would have gone over too well tonight,” Lily answered.

  Roma giggled. “I would love to have seen that.” She helped herself to a stuffed mushroom. In a lowered voice she asked, “So, how’re the dog rescue capers coming along?”

  “Wonderful,” Lily whispered, glancing over at the door. “Our group rescued a dog right off the freeway. It was so cute I just wanted to bring it home.”

  Roma moved over to the stove and watched Lily stir fresh garlic into a pan of sizzling olive oil followed by succulent cubes of lobster. “I know Brad’s afraid of dogs, but why didn’t you just bring this one home and let him get over it?”

  Before she could answer, Brad leaned his head through the kitchen door. “Lots of talking going on in here with you girls, any cooking?” He placed his briefcase down on the table and walked over to the stove.

  Lily turned her back to him and continued cooking.

  He hovered over her shoulder then proceeded to move through the aromatic kitchen like a general inspecting the appetizer trays, considering wine choices.

  “Do your best,” he whispered in her ear.

  She looked up into his chestnut eyes. How they used to melt her down. “Of course, Brad.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Did you remember the Dom Pérignon I asked you to pick up?”

  Lily caught her breath. She rarely forgot anything he requested, but lately it was difficult just to remember what she was doing next. The Christmas holiday had been a blur. One more party and the season was over.

  “No, Brad, I forgot, but we have plenty of excellent champagne in the cellar.”

  His voice rose. “I told you specifically this client only drinks that label.”

  “So what do you want me to do, leave the dinner on the stove and go pick some up?”

  “Never mind, I’ll go,” he said, grabbing his keys off the hook by the back door and stamping out.

  “Looks like you’re in trouble,” Roma said with a nervous wink. “Think I’ll head home and order take-out.” Roma waved as she closed the door behind her.

  Lily leaned over the sink, feeling sick; she could not play this part one more time. In the beginning, Brad had been so charming and self-assured. The promises and compliments never seemed to end. She could still hear his words: “Lily, I will take care of you and give you everything you could ever want.” Love and security were dangled in front of her, a twenty-two-year-old girl starved for affection.

  Thirty years old at her last birthday, and what did she really have to show for it? No children, not even a dog. Brad would not allow the interference in their lifestyle or the mess. So much for being rescued by Prince Charming, she thought. I should have left that fantasy in the fairytale books where it belongs.

  The sound of rapid bubbling from the stove pulled her out of her daydream. Adeptly, she lowered the flame and stirred the simmering cream sauce. She rubbed her temples, hoping to stave away the pounding headache that had been threatening throughout the evening.

  A chiming sound resonated from the direction of the table. Lily went over to investigate and found Brad’s iPhone lit up next to his briefcase. “Text Message from Ashley” flashed across the screen. “Missed Call from Ashley” was indicated below it. Lily started to walk away, but the phone chimed again, prompting her to take a closer look. Ashley again, this time with a picture.

  Lily tapped the screen and the message lit up: “Brad, what time do you think you will be able to get away tonight? xoxo Ashley.”

  She laid the phone back on the table. That was strange. Brad had a dinner party here tonight and it would probably last pretty late, yet he still had plans for after. Lily thought about all the late night calls and trips back to the office. No one named Ashley worked at the office, not that she knew of. And what about the xoxo? Her stomach tightened as she dropped the phone back on the table and returned to the meal. Lily warmed her hands over a simmering pot of lobster bisque. It was a particularly cold December for southern California, and the thick soup would take care of that. She stirred the soup, trying not to turn back to the phone.

  Perhaps she should take a peek at the second message? She wandered back to the table and turned the iPhone over in her hand. The phone never left Brad’s side unless he was asleep, and even then it was at his bedside. It was not her style to go through his things, but… She pressed the power button and the IMs popped up. She expanded the screen to get a closer look at the photo. A statuesque woman smiled out at her. She looked like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue: white-blonde hair accented high cheekbones and kohl-lined sapphire eyes. Not a day over twenty-five, Lily thought, studying the black suede boots and body-hugging sweater. Two fingers were raised to her lips, as if to send a kiss.

  “See you tonight,” was all it said.

  Lily scrolled back, amazed by the long list of previous messages from the same woman. Each was inviting; some thanked him for a great night, others promised favors to come. Her mind swirled as her heart picked up its beats. Mindlessly, she started to count the messages, twenty, thirty, fifty. When she reached over a hundred in less than a month, she stopped counting. She had seen enough. All these weeks with him never around, too busy to deal with her, judging every move she made. He must have been out with this woman.

  She placed the phone back on the table. The marriage had been ending for a long time, she just hadn’t wanted to face it. But this still hurt, like being sliced open with one of her razor-sharp kitchen knives. One by one, she turned off the burners then washed her knives and placed them back in their cases.

  The sound of Brad’s Porsche speeding up the front drive caused her to flinch. Lily slid into her shoes and threw off the apron.

  Footsteps resounded in the hall before Brad rushed into the kitchen holding the champagne. “I only managed to find two bottles. If you had done what I asked—”

  Lily held up his iPhone. “You have some messages.”

  He snatched it from her hands and checked the screen.

  “Too late, Brad, I’ve already read them,” she said.

  “How dare you, Lily.”

  “How dare you,” she said, holding her ground. She pointed to the half-cooked items on the stove and counter. “You better call your important client and arrange to take him out to dinner, because I won’t be catering your meals anymore.”

  She watched his face morph from anger to bargaining. All she wanted was to get away from him before he saw her burst into tears. A hundred plus text messages. Why had she counted them all?

  “Let me explain, Lily, you’re over-reacting, it’s nothing…”

  “Save it, Brad,” she said, pushing past him, heading toward the front door.

  “Wait,” he said, following behind. “Ashley is our new corporate attorney; we’re planning a merger.”

  “I bet you are,” Lily said, beginning to laugh. “The xoxo merger, right? Either get out of my way or you leave.”

  He put his arms out to her, his eyes pleading forgiveness. “It’s you I love, Lily, from the first day I saw you.”

  “Right, the first day you saw me and realized what a moldable pawn I would make!”

  “Alright,” he said, pulling out his keys. “Just know, this is your choice.”

  Lily stood in the foyer and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Hands freezing, body rigid, an unreal quality took over as she watched her husband walk out the front door and slam it behind him. The sound of Brad’s Porsche screeching out the driveway sent a quiver up her spine. Her legs gave way as she crumpled onto the cold marble floor. Immobile, she glared at the oversized carved wooden door. Another ostentatious, unattractive, overbearing piece of décor Brad had chosen. It had been alternately her fortress and her prison, keeping her in this false palace, barring both entrance and exit.

  She ripped off her Dior heels and threw them at
the door. “I hate these shoes, this house, this marriage…” The long-held tears shook her body. Every accusation Brad had dismissed as her “overreacting” was finally answered with the truth. Why hadn’t she trusted herself and left long ago? She let the tears flow.

  A cool calmness filled her being. She was done here; the certainty of it swept through her body. She rose from the floor and hastened up the spiral staircase to her bedroom. Her red puffy face stared back at her from the mirror. It was streaked with mascara-colored tears from eye to chin. At least she recognized this person.

  She yanked off the clingy dress and laid it neatly on the king-size bed. Beside it she draped the Cartier necklace. The imposing diamond wedding ring would be next to go. She stopped abruptly…this she would keep. It was the only thing of real value that Brad might consider ever truly belonging to her.

  Bending over the marble sink in the master bath, she rinsed off the tears and ran a comb through her hair. She pulled out her travel case and tossed in a few toiletries. The walk-in closet presented overwhelming options: silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, designer jeans. Lily tossed her favorite comfortable jeans, warm sweaters, a pale pink cotton sweatshirt, and a comfy pair of tennis shoes into a suitcase. She added a jacket, some warm boots, a couple of shirts and left just enough room to fit some of her prize knives on top.

  She leaned over her desk and unlocked the side drawer. It was right where she left it a few weeks ago. Grandma Maggie’s will. To my grandaughter, Lily Parkins, it read. Grandma hadn’t even known Lily’s married name, it had been that long. It continued: is the sole heir to the property known as Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast Inn.

  There was a note from her Seattle attorney explaining that Maggie had converted the farm into a successful inn, but that it had been closed for the last year due to Maggie’s poor health.

  Lily thought about her grandma all alone on the island, sick, lonely. Why hadn’t she visited her, or at least called? She’d let fear keep her from what she wanted too long. Flashbacks of a sparkly woman with a wide smile flooded her mind. She could see herself as a young girl, racing her grandma down the grassy path to splash in the cool waters of the Puget Sound. And the batches and batches of chocolate fudge brownies they’d baked together. Often over the years, Lily wished to be back with her grandmother, sharing the old porch swing, picking warm ripe tomatoes right off the vine, not a care in the world. She had no idea if her grandmother would have been receptive after their estrangement, and if her mother would have felt betrayed.

  She placed the will in her purse and took one last look around the room she had slept in with her husband for ten years. Reassured that there was nothing left that mattered, she proceeded down the staircase.

  In the kitchen, the aroma of garlic and rosemary lingered, the only pleasant memory of a gourmet dinner interrupted. Trays of food littered the counters, dirty pans and food-caked dishes filled the stainless steel sinks. There would be leftovers for tomorrow, but she would not be here to serve them. That would probably be the only reason she would be missed. She took her Global knives and slid them into a side pocket of the suitcase, then surveyed her collection of pots and pans. “No, too much to carry…they can be replaced later.”

  On the brass hooks by the back door hung the various sets of car keys. Brad had taken the Porsche. Remaining on the rack were the keys for the Mercedes sedan and the Honda SUV, used mostly by the housekeeper for running errands. The black sedan was certainly not her style. The Honda would do just fine.

  A disparaging laugh erupted as she realized that Brad would have to clean the kitchen on his own. Surely his new eye-candy had no idea how.

  She retrieved her wool coat to ward off the cold, locked the door behind her, and ran quickly through the rain toward the garage. Inside, she threw her bags in the back of the SUV, slid into the driver’s seat, and backed out slowly. Lily took one last look at the big house, all lit up against the dark night. She programmed the GPS for Washington State, clutched the steering wheel, and drove off through the misty rain.

  Chapter 2

  The Washington State ferry cut through the ocean currents much the way Lily was cutting through her life: swiftly, mercilessly, and with a clear destination–Madrona Island. Lily lifted her head to the wind, enjoying the view from the upper deck. A faint silhouette of land emerged through the low-floating fog. She gripped the icy hand railing as the butterflies in her stomach turned to knots.

  Doubt crept in like the morning fog. Have I made the right decision to come here? A ray of sun pierced the clouds and lit the water with a thousand glittering flashbulbs. The lush green of the island shore beckoned in the distance, and the sound of lapping waves called to her. The wet winters in the Pacific Northwest were a whole different experience than sunny Southern California.

  With a sigh of release, Lily lifted her head. She would face this and she would do it, for the first time in her life, alone. A light gust of wind rolled over the deck, bringing with it the familiar scent of sea air. She tightened her wool scarf and dug her icy hands into her pockets. The ferry’s horn blasted, announcing its approach to shore. She turned quickly, almost bumping into a tall, dark-haired man. Their eyes met for a brief second—his intense blue eyes seeming to look right through her. The spark between them was unmistakable. Momentarily stunned, she stared, mesmerized at the striking face before her. “Excuse me,” she managed to get out as her eyes searched the deck for the correct staircase.

  “No problem,” he said, a wide smile crossing his face.

  Lily felt a flush creep up her neck into her cheeks as she fled for the stairs. She located her car keys and escaped the icy wind. “I think I just had a hallucination,” she laughed to herself. “No real man has ever affected me that way before. I’m sure my heart stopped beating.” As she climbed into her SUV, she looked up to see the same man taking the last step down from the deck and turning toward her car. For a moment she thought he was following her, but then he continued past and entered a Volvo station wagon two cars behind her.

  When she looked up, a ferry worker was waving her to exit and she hadn’t even started her car. Fumbling with the keys, she managed to start the engine and exit the ferry onto the two-lane highway. The GPS showed the main highway, which divided the east and west sides of the island. Her gaze drifted out the window to open fields and tree-lined hills. Billowing steel-gray clouds hung low in the sky, and a fine mist dusted her windshield. Hands still frozen, she turned up the heat. This was definitely not the weather she was used to in Los Angeles; it would take some acclimation to be comfortable in this damp, bone-chilling climate.

  Up ahead the stoplight turned yellow and she slowed to stop. The street sign offered two alternatives: Grandview, four miles; Forest Glen, ten. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Grandview was the closest, and if her memory was accurate, it would offer a cozy town and a place for a hot lunch. To the right it was then. The road narrowed as towering pines and cedars sprang against the backdrop of the dazzling red bark of Madrona trees.

  Lily slipped another CD into the player; smooth jazz fit the mood of the setting. As she entered the city limits, charming older houses trimmed in gingerbread shared the landscape with modern wood homes with massive windows to take advantage of the view. Businesses sprouted up, a realty office in an A-frame cottage, antiques in an old barn. The quaint little town on the west shore proved easy to find. The first view, as she turned on to Front Street, revealed a scene right out of a movie set, turn-of-the-century style. It had been a long time since she’d been here with Grandma Maggie. Her memory wandered to the tall chocolate sodas they used to get at the corner ice cream place. She hoped it was still there. It was somewhere on a back street, if she remembered correctly. Lily passed a hand-carved wood sign with bright letters, Island Thyme Café & Bakery. A large picture window revealed a gift shop adjacent to the café. Perfect for lunch, she thought as she looked for a place to park. She could scout for the ice cream parlor
later.

  Front Street appeared to be the main drag, sporting Grandview Bank and the old ivy-covered brick building that housed the Island County Library. The multitude of shops promised local artisan wares and every kind of food from cookies to sushi. She pulled the car over and headed to the café. Along the way, she paused to admire the expansive view of water and horizon clouds in all shades of gray that hung heavily over the peaks of the Cascade Mountains to the east. The drizzle was rapidly turning into rain as the wind picked up and tugged at her jacket. Raindrops dotted her eyelashes. The smell of wood smoke lingered in the air with the promise of a warm fire, so she zipped her raincoat, flipped up the hood, and hurried toward the café. A new umbrella would be top of her list for her first shopping trip.

  The smell of saltwater carried on the wind, but the aroma that spoke the loudest was the whiff of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies as she opened the door to the café and hurried inside. A well-polished antique wood bar covered the entire left wall.

  From behind the counter, a cheerful auburn-haired woman waved to Lily. “Come in and dry out, it’s getting nasty out there.” She snatched a menu. “Can I get you a seat?”

  “Thanks, I would love one.”

  Lily’s eyes washed over the welcoming interior. Just past the old-fashioned bar and down two steps was a cozy dining room with what looked like the original turn-of-the-century oak floor. Tables of every size and shape crowded together in the center with mismatched chairs and tablecloths.

  “Would you like a booth or table?”

  “A booth is fine,” Lily said.

  The leather booth where she now sat hugged the back wall, where a picture window overlooked the bay. The rear of the building hung over the water’s edge. It must have been on stilts, as it gave the café an appearance of floating over a large inlet. Ominous clouds cast shadows over the pale silver water and seagulls dove for fish, their screams filling the air.

  The woman placed a menu in front of her. “I’m Jude and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you something hot to drink first? A latté? Hot cocoa?”