by Various
“Oh, honey, let me get that for you.” Antoinette struggled to pull her mammoth body from the rocker.
“No, no, I got it.” On hands and knees, he fished it out. He didn’t mind. Staring at the faded pattern on the carpet gave him a few seconds to regain his composure. Crazy, the way she’d flown into town and mixed him up with a couple of kisses. What the hell was wrong with him? Plenty of good-looking women around Lindsey Point, as Finn reminded him all the time. Well, maybe not plenty, but a few to choose from. He knew that first-hand.
“It comes to one-eighty,” he said. Antoinette set her knitting aside and wrote him a check with a wobbly hand.
“There you go, honey.” She winked one watery blue eye. “Cookies in the kitchen if you want to take some with you.”
“I definitely will.” He helped himself to three and jogged down the front steps to his pick-up. Almost noon, which meant he had time for a quick stop in the hardware store and then home for lunch.
“Lucas.” The man behind the counter nodded as Lucas stepped into Tinker’s Tools a few minutes later.
“Tink, how’s it going?”
“Good, good.” The store’s owner, a grizzled man somewhere between forty-five and sixty-five, rested both elbows on the counter. “You tell me, though. You’re working with that TV crew, ain’t ya?”
Lucas nodded as he looked over the bins of nuts and bolts. “Yep.”
“I hear that host is a real pisser.”
He smiled. “She’s got personality.”
“Heard you had to drive her home last night. Got a little tipsy off Finn’s drinks.”
Lucas shook his head. Even though the bar had been almost deserted, leave it to the Lindsey Point grapevine to tell a tale by next morning. “Nope. She was fine. I didn’t think her producer wanted her wandering around a strange town after dark, so I gave her a ride.” His face flamed as he heard the double meaning in his words and hoped Tinker wasn’t thinking the same. Lucas grabbed what he needed and carried it to the register. “You know what those city types are like,” he added for good measure. He hoped no one had seen his truck parked by Francine’s later on, or two figures standing at the top of the lighthouse with their arms wrapped around each other.
“Boy, do I.” Tinker rang up the sale and slid the hardware into a small plastic bag. “Bet you can’t wait ’til she leaves.”
Lucas didn’t answer as he took his change and focused on making sure the dollar bills all faced the same direction in his wallet. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Tinker raised a hand in goodbye, and Lucas stopped to check out a display of push mowers lined up outside the door. Should tell his dad about this week’s special, fifty bucks off with a cash payment. Not a bad deal at all. He leaned down and inspected the mower deck and the engine.
Five minutes. That was all it took. Five minutes too long, he realized a second later when the white sports car pulled into the spot behind him. If he’d kept walking, he would have been fine. Wouldn’t have seen her. Would have missed her at the light, turned the corner and gotten home for a nice big sandwich and time to read the paper. Instead she stepped out in front of him, one long leg and then the other, and he couldn’t do anything except stand there in the parking lot and stare as Shannon O’Brien looked up at him with hello on her lips and an invitation in her eyes.
“Hi, Lucas,” she said, and it was like he fell all the way back to high school, to study hall with Mr. Martin where he’d sat and admired those legs and her hair and waited, waited for the perfect opportunity to ask her out.
Think she’ll say yes? he’d asked Sarah more than once. Ten or twenty times, actually, until Sarah threatened to ask Shannon herself.
He pulled off his baseball cap and smoothed his hair into place without even thinking.
“Still need a haircut, huh?”
“Like it long,” he managed to reply. “You were the one who didn’t.”
She slid her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t think it mattered to me one way or the other.”
Lucas remembered otherwise, remembered more than one night when she’d told him to change his clothes or wet down his cowlick in the back before they went out, and that was enough to snap off the current of attraction zinging back and forth between them.
“How have you been?”
How the hell do you think I’ve been? he wanted to say, but the words broke in his throat.
“I thought maybe we could get together for a drink or something. Talk.”
A drink? Like she’d been gone a few months, and a cocktail or two would put everything back in order.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She blinked a few times.
“How’s your dad?” he asked.
“Lucas.”
“Shannon, stop. There’s nothing to say.” But why didn’t he walk away from her? Why was he standing there in Tinker’s parking lot like a goddamn fool?
He rubbed the back of his neck. Not too hard to dissect. Once upon a time, Shannon O’Brien had been The One. He’d shared everything with her, from tears to meals to a house to his heart and all his future dreams. He’d held her hand at her sister’s funeral. Then six months later, at her mother’s. He’d watched over her, waited for her, as she scratched her way back to existence after loss of such magnitude he didn’t know how she handled it.
And then she’d loved him. Everything she had left, she gave to him.
Once, Lucas had thought himself the luckiest guy on the planet. He hadn’t wanted anything else, ever. He’d thought he and Shannon would be the couple that still walked around town hand in hand even after they turned all wrinkled and gray. Their children and their grandchildren would come to the Methodist church and sit on his lap while he still played Santa even when he didn’t need the white wig anymore because his own curls had turned to gray.
He’d turned his life over to her. And then she’d turned to someone else. Six years together, two of it living in the same apartment, and she’d shit on everything they had and walked away. Sometimes he wondered if after all that time, Sarah had come between them. Maybe he reminded Shannon of her sister the same way she reminded him of his best friend. In the end, they’d both been a sorry substitute for the person they loved most.
“Lucas?”
He blinked away the years.
Now she was back, sorry and sexy and still turning his heart over a little when she looked up at him with apologies in her eyes. Lucas tightened his fingers into fists.
“Okay.” She touched his arm. “I’m staying with my dad for right now.” Her eyes darkened. “I hope we can sit down at some point. Some things we need to say.”
He folded his arms. “Not me.” He was pretty sure he’d said everything he needed to, the night he came home and found her naked with another guy. Nothing more to cover on that topic.
“I meant me, I guess.” Her mouth worked as if trying to find the right words. “There are things I want to say.”
He stared at the sky behind her shoulder.
A taxi slowed and turned into the parking lot. Taxis were rare in downtown Lindsey Point–rarer still in Tinker’s parking lot. It pulled into a spot in front of Charles’ Cafe, the next building over, and a figure he recognized, a figure he knew from running his hands along its curves, climbed from the back seat.
Lucas’s heart turned over, did a little jig, and then plummeted somewhere around his knees.
Shannon saw the flicker in his eyes, she must have, because she turned and waited a long moment before saying, “Ah. I heard she was in town.”
He wondered if it was too late to make a break for it.
But Sophie saw him as soon as she got out of the cab. “Lucas?” She shaded her eyes. “Thought you were working this morning.” She took her time walking over. “Not, you know, romancing women in the parking lot of–” She glanced at the door of the hardware store. “Tinker’s Tools.”
He didn’t have a chance to say anything. Shannon stepped betw
een them and held out one hand. “Hello. Shannon O’Brien. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Lindsey Point.”
“Thank you.” Sophie slipped on her sunglasses, so Lucas couldn’t read her eyes.
“I hear Lucas has been helping you out.”
Sophie cocked her head. “He has. Actually, he’s been fantastic. I mean, from showing me around town to filling in on the crew to giving me a personal tour of the lighthouse.” She paused. “Let’s just say he’s made me feel really welcome here.”
Shannon’s expression changed.
“So we’re on for later this afternoon, right?” Sophie went on as she turned to Lucas, though they hadn’t made any plans as of last night. “Lon’s meeting with Nellie this morning, and I’m pretty sure he’ll want to go over things after. You’ll be able to come by Francine’s? Around three?”
“I think so.”
“Good.” Then, as he stood there trying to still the jagged heartbeat inside his chest, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you later.”
“See ya.” He stood, feet frozen to the pavement, as she sauntered into the breakfast cafe in sky-high heels that matched the slick little red dress she wore today.
Shannon waited until the glass door closed behind her before speaking. “She’s something.”
He supposed that was one way to put it.
She readjusted her purse, fiddling with the strap on her shoulder. “I meant what I said. About getting together.”
“I know. But I’m pretty busy.”
“With her?” She glanced at the cafe. “You know it’s all an act, right? I’ve heard she’s a bitch in real life.”
“Where the hell did you hear that?”
“Read it in a magazine.”
“Oh. Then that makes it true.”
“Please, Lucas. You think Sophie Smithwaite cares about you, about anyone in Lindsey Point, for more than a little blip in her story?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Her dark red, color-of-the-sky-at-sunset hair. Once upon a time it had smelled of strawberry shampoo and felt like silk against his rough, stubbled face. “Did you go home with her last night?”
What the hell? Had Finn called up everyone from high school and given a play-by-play the minute they left the bar? He fingered his cell phone, ready to call his best friend and remind him what happened at the bar was supposed to stay at the bar.
“I did not go home with her. Not that it’s any of your business.”
She eyed him. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
“Listen, I gotta go.” He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t stand in the parking lot and make small talk with the one person he’d hoped to never see again.
“You have my number if you change your mind.”
And he’d call it over his dead body.
“Bye.”
Lucas grunted a farewell. He stood there as Shannon got back into her car and pulled away. God, it would be so much easier to say no, go to hell, I don’t want to see you, if he didn’t see Sarah every time he looked at her. Ten years. Ten minutes. It all felt the same. His heart squeezed inside his chest, and he cracked his knuckles. He’d discovered a long time ago that easy wasn’t the way life happened. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 17
Sophie read the menu board in the coffee shop as the teenager behind the counter studied her manicure, chipped and painted in a few different colors. After a minute, she looked up, and her mouth turned into an O. “Oh my gosh, you’re, like, that lady, right? The one from the travel show?”
“Ah, yes. Sophie Smithwaite.”
She dropped her chin into one hand and propped her elbow next to the jar of biscotti. “That’s so, like, cool, having someone famous in our town. I mean, I know we have our ghost story and all, but I never dreamed you’d be here.” She turned and squealed over her shoulder. “Travis! Come out and see who’s here!”
Sophie glanced at her watch. She didn’t even like coffee. She’d just needed something to supplement the dusty scone from Francine’s. And yes, she’d told the cab driver to pull into this parking lot when she’d seen Lucas talking to the redhead.
“Hey, cool,” said the guy who emerged from the stockroom at the back of the shop and looked as though he’d started shaving yesterday. He gave Sophie a once-over, his gaze lingering on her boobs. “I’m Travis.”
“Oh, and I’m Mona,” said the girl.
“Nice to meet both of you. And you know what, I’ll take one of those cinnamon buns with the nuts on top. Bottled water too, if you have it.”
Mona almost fell over herself as she slid open the glass door and placed a bun inside a paper bag. “Travis,” she hissed. “Get me a water from the cooler.”
Travis rolled his eyes but bent over a stainless steel cooler and retrieved a dripping plastic bottle.
“Thanks.” Sophie pushed her credit card across the counter.
“Oh.” Mona stared at the card without touching it.
“You don’t take American Express? I have another. MasterCard work?”
Mona continued to stare at the counter as though a rattlesnake had taken up residence beside the biscotti, poised and ready to strike.
Travis scratched a collection of pimples on the side of his neck. “We don’t take credit cards at all. Cash only sales.” He jabbed his thumb at a small, hand-lettered sign beside the register.
“Oh.” Too late, Sophie recalled that the charm of small towns came in all shapes and sizes, some better than others. She dug through the bottom of her purse in search of change. “How much is it?”
“Three fifty-six,” Mona said. “But you know what, forget it.” Her face brightened. “It can be on us. You’ll be our guest.”
“No, it’s fine. I’d rather pay.” But all she could come up with was a handful of dimes and pennies.
Someone slid a ten across the counter. “I’ve got it.”
Sophie glanced up. A tall woman with a deeply-lined face smiled. “Please. It’s my treat.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She eyed the woman, a little too made up and a little too perfectly dressed for downtown Lindsey Point on a Thursday morning. But she seemed to know both Mona and Travis, as well as the other older woman sitting at the coffee bar behind them.
“Marcia Witherspoon,” the woman said by way of introduction. “And this is my partner, Lila Hanover.”
Partner? Huh. Could mean business partner. Could mean something else. “Nice to meet you,” Sophie said.
“Would you like to join us?” Marcia waved at the empty seat beside Lila.
She peeked outside, but Lucas and the redhead had both vanished. Together? Probably not. But a little slip of jealousy surprised her all the same. “Sure. For a few minutes.”
Sophie climbed onto the stool. Lila looked about the same age as Marcia, somewhere in the indistinct range between forty-five and sixty, depending on how well women took care of themselves. These women obviously did. Nails manicured, hair styled, and casual but expensive shoes and purses tucked under the counter.
“Are you from Lindsey Point?” she asked.
Marcia nodded. “I am. Grew up a few miles outside of town. Left for college, worked in Boston and Providence for awhile, but I always knew I’d come back.” She glanced out the wide front window, at the pine trees in the distance Sophie knew marked the beach. “Hard to run away from the ocean. Waves are in my blood.”
Lila smiled and touched Marcia’s hand. “And I followed her here.”
“We’re both retired now,” Marcia went on. “Spent enough time selling real estate that when I came back, I knew what I wanted.”
“And I knew how I wanted to decorate it,” Lila said. Both women laughed.
Sophie bit off a corner of her cinnamon bun. “Oh my God. This is heavenly.”
Lila nodded. “Charles makes wonderful pastries. Gets up at four every morning to make fresh ones every day.”
“Really?”
“And that’s why we’re here almost every day,”
Marcia laughed.
Lila patted her own ample stomach. “Some of us can afford it more than others, though.”
The bell on the door tinkled, and a teenager with greasy hair and a skateboard under one arm walked in. “’Sup, dude?”
Travis jerked his chin in hello and slid a paper cup of black coffee across the counter. A moment later, the two were lost in conversation, made up mostly of grunts and the occasional look over to where Sophie sat.
“It’s been nice meeting you,” she said after a few minutes. “But I’ll have to get going. I’m supposed to meet with my producer.”
But Marcia was staring at her like a bug under a scope.
Oh, no, Sophie wanted to say. Very kind of you and all, but I don’t play for your team. Nothing wrong with it, but girl-on-girl action wasn’t her thing. She’d been hit on by women before, and it didn’t bother her. Still, she felt her cheeks warm.
Then Marcia said, “You look almost exactly like her,” and Sophie blinked.
“Her?”
“Miranda Smith.” Marcia sipped her coffee. “I’m sure that isn’t the first time you’ve heard that. People have mentioned the resemblance, yes?”
“I know what they think, yes.”
Marcia’s gaze moved to Lila. “She has the cheekbones, doesn’t she? And the eyes.”
Sophie coughed and reached for a napkin to wipe her chin.
“I’m sorry,” Marcia said. “We’re prying. It’s absolutely none of our business.” She finished her coffee. “I do want to tell you, though, strictly for research purposes, if you’re interested–”
“We live in the Yeomans’ old home,” Lila said. She looked at Marcia.
“Where Peterson Smith grew up,” Marcia finished. “Have you ever seen it?”
Of course she hadn’t. She’d never stepped foot in this town. Sophie shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice.