by Mary Carter
Bailey didn’t tell her mother or her sister. Meg was still having some kind of problem with Thomas, but whenever Bailey pressed her for details she changed the subject. If her sister wasn’t going to open up to her, then Bailey wasn’t going to open up either. And telling her mother would mean that Brad would be in for a lifetime of resentment from Ellen Danvers. Nobody lied to her little girl. Her father would’ve probably been a bit more neutral, argued both sides like a litigator, then pronounced a verdict in favor of Bailey. The thought made her feel good, but she still didn’t tell them. She didn’t need more people in her head adding to the confusion. She even called Martin Gregors. He was surprisingly sympathetic toward her.
“It sounds as if he’s really betrayed you,” he said. At first, Bailey was thrilled to hear he was on her side.
“Exactly,” Bailey said. “I’m totally shocked.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“What?”
“It just doesn’t sound legal. He would have needed your approval to buy the lighthouse, no?”
“Not initially. He had cash from Olivia. But when I sold the condo, we sank the profits back into this place.” Bailey suddenly felt guilty for building this “case” against Brad.
“Definitely grounds for a lawsuit,” Gregors said.
“I don’t want to sue my husband, Dr. Gregors.” What she didn’t tell him was that there was no need to sue. Brad had already fallen on the sword, offered Bailey anything she wanted. He offered to try and convince the board to dissolve the conservancy. He said they could decommission the light and just run it as a private B&B. He offered to try and sell it and give her the money. He even offered to have himself declared temporarily insane to see if they could somehow get out of the contract. He was scrambling, not knowing if he could actually make good on any of his promises, but he was sincere in at least making the attempts. “I just want . . .” Bailey stopped talking. What did she want?
“What do you want?” he echoed.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you like to come to my office in Manhattan and talk about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look. You’ve had a shock. It’s normal to be indecisive.”
“I guess.”
“If you decide you’d like to start seeing me, my door is always open.” Bailey nodded even though he couldn’t see her and hung up without saying good-bye, hoping it would make her seem a little bit more decisive.
They were having another board meeting on the patio. It was a tricky place to eavesdrop without being seen. Of course she was “invited” to the meeting, she was after all on the board. But she didn’t want to attend any of their meetings. Besides, Bailey had received an e-mail for a paying reservation for the upcoming weekend. Paying reservations took precedence over freeloaders even if they were members of the board. If preserving the lighthouse was truly their aim, then nobody could argue that a paying guest took precedence over them. Bailey had at least made one decision. It was time for the board to hit the road. They could hold their meetings online.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Startled, Bailey turned from the window. Jake was standing just a few feet away from her.
“Hello,” Bailey said.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“Just peeking in on the group,” Bailey said. “See if they need anything.”
“I’m going to town,” Jake said. “I wondered if you’d like to join me?” Town. She needed things in town, didn’t she? They had plenty of groceries, so that was out. And they didn’t need furniture, or books, or—what else was in town?
It didn’t matter. It was what wasn’t in town that mattered. The people taking over her patio, sucking up all her energy, they weren’t in town.
“I’d love to go to town,” Bailey said. “I must go to town.” Jake’s smile seemed genuine.
“Hope you don’t mind sharing my Jet Ski,” he said. Was there a twinkle in his eye? Was she allowed to do this? Was she allowed to share a Jet Ski with another man?
“I could call Captain Jack,” Bailey said. After all, she had to at least appear to not want to get on his Jet Ski, didn’t she? Even though she could already feel herself pressed up against him.
“Great. You call the mighty captain and I’m going to hop in the shower. I’d really like to take you to dinner and I don’t want to be tossed out for smelling like the great outdoors.”
Dinner? Bailey thought. She didn’t know about dinner. But she didn’t say that, she just nodded again. Jake went off and Bailey glanced out the window. Brad was holding court, waving his hands as he spoke. When he finished everyone laughed. Bailey marched out to the patio, silently practicing her spiel on the way.
I’m going to town.
I’m going to town with Jake.
I’m going to town and Jake happens to be going to town.
Jake asked if I wanted to go town with him. On his Jet Ski. We’re going in the ferry instead. He wants to take me to dinner.
Jake asked if I wanted to go into town with him and since we’ll probably be there at dinnertime, he asked if I wanted to have a bite. He’s in the shower now so he doesn’t smell like the great outdoors.
As Bailey approached the patio she could hear Brad talking.
“Olivia was like a mother to me. I really hope she made it to the other side.”
“Maybe we can try contacting her.” It was Angel. Of course.
“Contacting her how?” Bailey said. The group stopped talking and stared at Bailey. “Like a séance?” Bailey said.
“Bails,” Brad said. He stood. “Are you going to join us?”
“No,” Bailey said. “I’m going to town with Jake. On his Jet Ski.”
“What?” Angel said. Bailey flicked her eyes over to Angel. She didn’t look happy. What? The woman wanted her husband and the handyman?
“I’d like to go to town with you,” Brad said.
“Jake asked first,” Bailey said. “I’m going into town with Jake,” she said. “On his Jet Ski.”
“Fine,” Brad said.
“Fine,” Bailey said.
“I hope his little Jet Ski is safe.”
“Oh no,” Bailey said. “There is nothing little about his Jet Ski.”
Brad clenched his fist, but put on a smile. “I want you to have a good time,” he said. “You’ve been working too hard.” Darn right she had. Dishes, floor, linens, uploading videos to Facebook.
“We’re probably going to grab dinner in town too,” Bailey said.
“Dinner?” Angel said. She sounded furious. What was her problem? Did she expect Bailey to hang around to make sure Angel got her dinner? This was a B&B, not a B&D.
“Enjoy,” Brad said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I will,” Bailey said. They locked eyes, but it might as well have been horns. Barcelona, Bailey thought. She hadn’t seen his nostrils flare like that since Barcelona.
They were twenty-two and Spain was their playground. At the dance club hugging the ocean, Bailey wore the tiniest blue dress that showed off her cleavage and three-inch pumps that elongated her legs. She’d spent hours getting ready while Brad went to the Miró museum, and even though he said she shouldn’t have missed it, it was well worth it because she looked hot. Every Spanish man on the dance floor thought so too. She lost count of how many men she danced with, how many she kissed; even a boy in a wheelchair. Earlier in the day, Brad had kissed both cheeks of a beautiful girl who had done nothing more than give him the time and tell him his Spanish was good for an American.
“It’s Europe!” he said when she complained. “Kissing is like shaking hands.” If that were the case, Bailey was going to shake, lip-to-lip, every boy’s hand she could. And she did. By the end of the night, Brad was positively shaking with jealousy. He stormed up to her in the middle of one of these “shakes,” gently took her arm (although she suspected he wanted to pull it out of the socket), and pulled her to the side. Several men threw their voices up in prot
est. Bailey winked at them and was all smiles until she saw the look in Brad’s eyes. He was truly furious. Was he actually jealous? The realization sent a thrill through her body. Brad Jordan jealous of her! For the first time in their love-stalking relationship the power dynamic had seesawed in Bailey’s direction. She was going to enjoy every single second of it. There were a hundred beautiful, exotic, foreign girls around them, but Brad was only focused on her.
“Something wrong?” Bailey said.
“You!” Brad said. “And all the kissing.”
“It’s Europe,” Bailey said. “It’s like shaking hands.”
“I get it, okay,” Brad said. “You’re mad about the girl. But all I did was kiss her on the cheeks, Bailey. The cheeks. You’re locking lips with every Spaniard in sight!”
Bailey stood up straight, put her hands on her hips. “Admit that you liked that girl,” she said.
“No,” Brad said. “I won’t.”
“You’re telling me—if it had been some old lady and not some hot little thing, that you would have acted the exact same way.”
“Yes,” Brad said. “Now let’s go.” He started out the door, as if she would just agree, as if she would just follow. Instead, she didn’t move. How long until he turned around? He went all the way out the door. Not a glance back. He was so sure she would follow him. Knowing he would eventually come looking for her, she made her way back to the dance floor and tried to lose herself among the sweaty, swaying bodies. She didn’t look to the exit once. She danced alone, moving away when men tried to press their bodies against hers, because now that she’d made her point with Brad, she had no need for strange boys. He was the only boy she wanted. Instead, she found joy all alone, in the middle of the massive crowd, sweat pooling into the nape of her neck, music thundering through her body. It may have only been minutes, but it felt like she danced like that for hours. When she was ready to go home, she happened to glance up to the second-floor mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. And the first person she locked eyes with was Brad. He’d been sitting front and center, watching her. He looked at her with such devotion and desire that had she been struck by lightning at that very moment, she would have died the happiest girl in the world. She knew then and there that they would marry someday. And now? How would she feel if she got struck by lightning now? She’d be slinking into heaven with her tail between her legs. For no matter how you looked at it, she was using a young, gorgeous contractor and his big Jet Ski to get back at her husband for lying about a lighthouse.
Despite everything, it was nice to be in town. They strolled through the antique store, and the bookstore, and even the florist before ending up in the café where they ordered lattes and chatted on overstuffed couches in the back room. Jake talked about his travels: his trips to Beijing, and Thailand, and Hong Kong, and Bailey pretended to listen.
“You are a thousand miles away,” Jake said. Startled, Bailey looked up. He was staring at her again, with an intensity that was hard to miss. It was a look that conveyed she was the center of his attention. A flutter gathered in her stomach. She was glad Captain Jack had agreed to ferry them both ways, for despite what she’d allowed Brad to think, it wouldn’t be right to be pressed so close against him.
“Sorry,” Bailey said. “I’m a little distracted.” Jake leaned forward.
“Distracted,” he said. “Just like your light.” Her light? Oh no, was he going to turn into one of them too?
“My light?” she repeated out loud.
“The tower beam,” Jake said. “It’s been quite erratic the past two days.”
“It has?” Had Bailey even looked at the light the past two days?
“Last night it flashed three times in a row. Like an SOS signal.” Bailey snuck a guilty look at her cell phone. The Coast Guard had called several times that morning. She’d been too upset to call them back. It had to be about the light. This was so typical. They were spending all their money to save a lighthouse that didn’t even work.
“Olivia,” Bailey said.
“Who?” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But there it was. Maybe Brad was messing with the light, trying to “contact” her. The group was a bad influence. They were probably all in it.
Bailey held up her cell phone. “I have to make a call,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “So it’s not a ghost?”
“A ghost?”
“Some say the place is haunted.”
“I’ve heard,” Bailey said. “No. It’s not a ghost. Just a middle-aged man and a crisis.”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling yourself middle-aged.”
“I meant Brad. But I’m also—”
“Beautiful.” The word hung in the air, suspended. It sent an electric thrill down her spine.
“Thank you,” she said. She held up her phone again. “I’m also married.”
“Happily?” Jake asked.
“Not always,” Bailey said. “But for the purpose of this discussion it’s definitely ‘ever after.’ ”
Later, back on the island, Bailey would replay her silly words. “For the purpose of this discussion.” Was she leaving open the possibility that she and Brad wouldn’t make it “ever after”? Was she making a subconscious decision, already backing away from him, disengaging, qualifying their marriage? Could she say for sure they were going to make it through this? Could anyone?
Chapter 21
“I swear to you,” Brad said. “I am not messing with the light.” They were standing in the tower, whispering despite the impossibility of anyone hearing them.
“He said it was blinking three times fast, like an SOS signal,” Bailey said.
“If that were the case, wouldn’t we have heard from the Coast Guard?”
“They called,” Bailey said. “I didn’t answer.”
“Bailey. If they thought we were messing with the signal, they would have been knocking at our door in seconds flat.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“I don’t know.” She waited to see if he would lecture her about going into town with Jake. He didn’t mention it, although she knew he saw Captain Jack ferry them back and forth. Why didn’t she go on the Jet Ski? Why did Brad get to be the only one on bad behavior? Not that he’d done any of it to hurt her. Bailey knew Brad would never purposefully cause her pain. It made it all that more difficult to be so angry with him.
“We have a paid reservation request for this weekend,” Bailey said.
“But the group is staying through next week.”
“Then they are going to have to pay,” Bailey said.
“I promised them—”
“We’re still the keepers, right?”
“It’s in the contract. No one can ever take this place away from us, Bails. I swear. We can stay here until the day we die.”
“We just can’t pass it on to our children.” We don’t have children was the elephant in the lighthouse.
“We can appoint the new keepers,” Brad said. He avoided all mention of children.
“Okay then. The board. They either start paying or start packing.”
“Does that include your little tent friend?” And there it was at last, a hint of jealousy. It didn’t feel as good as Bailey thought it would.
“Yes, it includes him,” she said. “Everyone who wants to stay has to pay.”
“We have so many things left to do,” Brad said.
“You mean contact Olivia?”
“Do you have to sound so sarcastic?”
“You won’t even believe me when I tell you the keeper’s house is haunted!”
“Because it’s not. It’s an old house.”
“But you believe in Olivia’s ghost?”
“No. Not exactly. Olivia is not a ghost.”
“And yet you want to hold a séance.”
“It’s not a séance. It’s—an energy circle. Today is Wednesday. When are the guests arriving?”
“Friday,” Bailey said
reluctantly.
“Then let’s let the board stay until Friday morning,” Brad said.
“Fine,” Bailey said. “But they have to be out by nine A.M.”
“Nine A.M.?”
“I’ll have three rooms to clean.”
“I’ll help.”
“We’ll still need the time.”
“Okay. Nine or ten A.M.—”
“Nine A.M.”
“Deal.”
“So what is—an energy circle?” Bailey was trying. She was really, really trying. But she couldn’t get rid of all her sarcasm, she just couldn’t. Even so, Brad looked grateful. His face softened and he looked so hopeful it almost broke her heart.
“We’ll just . . . sit around in a circle holding hands and concentrating our energy on sending Olivia to the light.”
“That’s a freaking séance.”
“Call it what you like.”
“It’s a séance.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Fine. But I’m sitting in on it and you can’t stop me this time.” To her surprise, Brad took her hand.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said.
“You were?”
“Yes. If Olivia does come through—you two have a bit of healing to do, don’t you think?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” If by healing you mean I want to kick her big ashes out of my house. “Will you blog about this séance—energy circle—in your diary? Sorry. Keeper’s log?”
“Nah.”
“I think you should.”
“Why?”
“Business,” Bailey said. “Everyone loves a good ghost story.”
“Bailey,” Brad said. “That’s not the right frame of mind.”