by Jackie Wang
“So you’re on her side now, Wes?” Bella snarled, pulling her hands away, and back onto her lap.
“Ms. Whittaker, please,” I said. “Let’s talk about your big day. How many guests have RSVPed?”
Once I shifted the conversational spotlight back on Bella, her face lit up. “One-hundred-ninety guests, Roman. I am the mayor’s daughter after all. Everyone who’s anyone on the island will come. A few guests are even coming from Northbridge, and abroad.”
“Perfect,” I said. More guests meant more publicity for the lodge. Hopefully good publicity, if Maggie kept her mouth and her emotions in check. I didn’t like Bella. She seemed shallow and pretentious. The type of spoiled woman who didn’t know the meaning of hard work. But her wedding would put the lodge in the limelight, just in time for Christmas. So if the bride was happy, we’d all be happy. “Will all your guests be attending the reception?” I asked.
Over the next hour, we banged out the details of Bella and Wesley’s elaborate, albeit, rushed wedding plans. Sylvan took notes on her phone while I committed the essentials to memory. Maggie simply seethed next to me, shooting daggers at the saccharine couple every once in a while. Was she jealous that her high school classmate was getting married? I wanted to tell her that weddings weren’t that important anyway; that a happy, long-lasting marriage was the ultimate test, one that couples failed more often than not nowadays. But I kept my opinions to myself, at least for the moment.
“Maggie, you could try smiling, you know?” Bella said when we all stood up to leave. Bella hooked her thumb under her purse strap. “A little smile once in a while might make you more attractive.”
“I don’t care if I’m attractive or not,” Maggie said, picking up her bag. “Not like I’m looking to attract anyone.”
“Says every spinster praying for a prince to come along and whisk her away,” Bella retorted.
“I’m not a spinster! Jesus, Bella, I’m twenty-eight, not fifty,” Maggie said.
The rest of us had just about had enough of the ladies’ catfighting. “Please excuse us,” I told the couple. “We’ll see you two tomorrow, yeah?”
“I don’t want to see her there,” Bella said, nodding to Maggie. “She’s such a Debbie Downer. She’s totally ruining my mojo.”
Maggie was about to interject when I grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her off toward the lodge. Sylvan said her goodbyes and headed home.
While I walked Maggie back to the hotel, I tried to console her, but she was bitter and more hostile than I’d ever seen her. I’d never seen her so shaken up.
“You don’t understand, Roman. Bella and I…we have a history,” Maggie said between swallowed sobs. “When I got knocked up with Greg…”
“I thought that was all water under the bridge now?” I asked. “And please, Maggie, stop acting like this. It’s very off-putting, and unprofessional, especially in front of clients who plan to spend thirty grand at your hotel next week.”
“I’m so sorry, Roman. I don’t know what happened. I just saw Bella and lost it,” Maggie mumbled, mopping her stricken face with her sleeve. “It was as if I was back in high school again, and Bella was taunting me for sporting a big belly while I walked across the stage to claim my graduation diploma. She’s—at least she was—the biggest bully at our school. She’s the reason everyone in town thinks I’m a whore who’s too dumb to know what birth control is.”
“Others only have as much power over you as you’re willing to give them. If you fuel them, they become stronger, Maggie. You need to smother old fires, permanently. Not start new ones.”
Maggie threw up her hands. “Roman, I’m a fire starter by nature. Everything I’ve ever touched and loved has gone up in flames and ended in ashes. I don’t know how to put out fires.”
I held Maggie’s elbows and locked eyes with her. “First, you start by depriving them of oxygen,” I said, taking her hand into mine and pulling her up against my chest. “Smother the past and spread the ashes, sweetheart. Learn to let things go, and you’ll be better for it.”
“Easier said than done,” Maggie said, sighing against my rapidly beating heart and sniffling occasionally. “My past is a raging inferno, Roman. Every time something good happens, my demons intervene and set my world on fire. I’m stuck, and I can’t move forward. I can’t move on, no matter how hard I try.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around Maggie and kissed her forehead. “We’re in this, Maggie. Together. I brought a fire extinguisher.”
Maggie laughed. “Why are you so nice to me? I’ve been nothing but argumentative and evasive about my past.”
“You’ve build a wall around your heart,” I whispered. “You think it’ll keep it safe. But I intend to tear that wall down, one brick at a time. Then I’ll banish your inner darkness with my light, and you’ll be happy again. Sound good?”
“Why me?”
I smiled. “I’m addicted to altruism, what can I say?”
“That explains it, I suppose.”
“I love helping people. Especially damsels in distress.”
Maggie recoiled. “Hey, who are you calling a damsel in distress?”
I pulled her back into my arms and whispered in her ear, “Are you not in distress?”
“I don’t need to be saved,” Maggie said. “I’ve been fine on my own for more than ten years.”
“Maggie, often the people who need saving the most don’t realize that they need help. My point is, you don’t need to fight it all alone now. I’m here for you.”
At least for the next ten days.
“I’m acting ungrateful, aren’t I?”
“No. You’re just raising your shield against a friend. Relax, Maggie, I won’t hurt you.” I ran my hand along Maggie’s stiff arms, and she softened a little. When she looked up at me, it seemed as if she was lighter somehow. I was glad to see my words have that kind of effect on her.
“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the evening?” Maggie said, changing the subject. “Your team will be working all night at the hotel. Where will you stay?”
“They’re probably finished with my suite by now,” I said. “I told them to do it first.”
“Do you want to have dinner at my place again?” Maggie asked meekly. “The boys would love it.”
I looked at the hotel, which was bathed in inky darkness. The thought of Maggie’s cozy, albeit cluttered home was inviting. “I suppose the boys would like to hear another story.”
“They love stories,” Maggie said, smiling. “Especially yours. Come, let’s go pick them up.” She wound her arm around mine as we made our way to her car. “And Roman?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I needed that.”
“Glad to be of service.”
As I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt, I hoped that in trying to mend Maggie’s heart, I didn’t end up losing mine.
Chapter 17
“What crazy story will you tell us this time?” Greg asked, light dancing in his chestnut eyes. “More man versus nature? Will there be blood?”
I looked at Maggie, whose eyebrows were knit together. “No blood,” I said. “Tonight, I’ll tell you a pirate story.”
“But I want to hear a real-life story,” Jason said, scratching his belly. “Not some made up one.”
“Oh, trust me, this pirate story is real.”
“Pirates aren’t real,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.
“Tell that to the coast of Somalia,” I said. “The Arabian Sea is swarming with them.”
“Honest?” Jason said.
“Honest,” I replied.
While Maggie was sequestered in the kitchen, clanking pots and pans, I gestured for the boys to come close. They huddled near my chest, eyes wide with expectation.
Jason pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “What is it, Roman?”
“Yeah, what?” Greg chimed in.
In whispers low enough to go undetected, I asked, “Have either of y
ou ever heard of the name ‘Adam’ before?” I knew it was risky bringing up his name, especially with Maggie so close by, but I needed to at least try. My curiosity was all-consuming, and detrimental to my health. The sooner I solved this puzzle, the sooner I could resume my normal routine, without these pesky questions nagging my subconscious. And since Maggie shut down any time I brought Adam’s name up…
Jason didn’t react, but Greg pulled back a little.
“Why do you ask, Roman?” Greg said.
“I’ve heard people mention him at the lodge,” I said. “I was just curious.”
“Did Adam come back?” Greg asked. “Will he visit us?”
A dull ache tugged at my ribs. “No, he didn’t…come back. I was wondering if you knew where he’d gone? Who was he?”
“I barely remember what he looks like,” Greg said. “The last time I saw him, I was only six. And he was ten.”
“Who’s Adam?” Jason interjected, pushing his glasses up again. “How come I’ve never met him?”
“So about five years ago?” I asked, focused on Greg. I didn’t have much time. I needed answers.
Greg nodded. “Then he ran away, and I never heard from him again.”
“Ran away? But who was he?” I asked.
The million-dollar question.
Greg wiggled his eyebrows. “Now that I think about it, Adam kind of looks like Jason and me.”
“Think hard, Greg, do you remember—”
“Boys, wash your hands!” Maggie called. “Dinner in five.”
Bollocks. Maggie kept interrupting me, every time I came close to figuring out Adam’s identity. My obsession with this character was unhealthy. I didn’t know why it irked me so much, not knowing who he was. I knew he was dead. That his death happened probably around Vernon’s Bluff. And by the sounds of it, he was only ten years old when he passed. So why did I need to know more? The answer slapped me, hard.
I needed answers, because Adam was the key to understanding why Maggie was so broken. Whatever happened to Adam haunted Maggie, made her frightened and withdrawn. Kept her trapped on this island, instead of out in the world. If I had answers, I could help her.
“What are you thinking about?” Maggie’s voice came light and breathy behind me.
I turned around, my eyes scrolling over Maggie’s face. I shook my head. “Just daydreaming.”
“About my wonderful cooking?”
I smiled. “Something like that, yeah.” I studied my hostess, who’d once again, worked up a sweat trying to make me some dinner. Wispy tendrils of hair clung to her cheeks. Her lips were parted like rose petals. God, she was so beautiful. Why couldn’t she trust me enough to let me inside her world?
“Stop staring,” Maggie said, turning back to the kitchen. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”
“Can you help set the table? Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
“Sure.”
I watched Maggie tackle four different stations at once, and marveled at her multi-tasking abilities. How did she manage to juggle all the hectic elements in her life?
It was my second time over at Maggie’s house this week, and no doubt the neighbors would begin to talk. Screw what they thought. I didn’t judge people by their pasts. God knew my own was mottled and gray. I liked Maggie, and I liked her boys, for who they were at this moment. They were a happy family, and as I watched Maggie, I found myself thinking, once again, about how she reminded me of my own mother.
My mum, Alice Finnegan, raised Amelia and me on a minimum wage salary when we were only eight. Never took a pound from my wealthy heiress of a grandmother.
We were constantly moving and always hungry, not just for food, but for life experiences we couldn’t afford. Like going to the cinema or eating at a nice restaurant. As children, Amelia and I dreamed of the day we’d have a proper home with three square meals a day, and perhaps even a tuxedo-clad butler named George. We spent a lot of time playing pretend, impersonating various members of the royal family, and trying to speak with an upper-class accent. Anything to stop being “those poor kids” whose father left them. Those sad children who couldn’t afford new clothes or nice toys. We hated the labels, and despised the pity offered us, even if it was from folks who meant well.
Because we hungered for a finer life, because we wanted to give our mother the luxuries she deserved, Amelia and I worked hard to rise above the poverty that choked our veins. And we succeeded, oh how we succeeded. We broke out of our lower-class molds and found our higher callings. Amelia trained hard and got recruited by the national Olympics team. I worked my way up in the hospitality industry, starting as a concierge at Le Dulce in university, and getting successive promotions every year until I’d saved up enough to buy my own hotel. Then one hotel became three, and soon, I could afford to hire people to run my business while I traveled the world. The only thing I was still missing in my life was that special someone. Someone I could spoil and dote on, but would never take my love for granted. Someone who knew what it was like to be without, and the value of hard work and loyalty.
Someone like her.
Maggie Summers.
The domestic goddess who charmed the hell out of me.
“You haven’t touched your roast beef, Roman,” Maggie said. “It’s getting cold. You daydreaming again?”
I snapped out of my reverie. “Sorry. I must be…tired. It’s been a long day.” I sliced through the roast beef and brought a juicy piece to my mouth. It was perfectly cooked and well seasoned. “Remind me again why you’re not running the kitchen at Crescent Hill?”
Maggie shrugged. “I’m just a home cook. Nothing fancy. My real passion is baking, though. You should come over for dessert sometime. I didn’t have time to prepare anything today.”
“What’s your signature dessert?” I asked.
Maggie grinned. “Gotta be a good ol’ fashioned apple pecan pie. Right, boys?”
Greg and Jason nodded. “Mom makes the best pies in the world,” Jason said. “They’re real delicious.”
“You must be just saying that because she’s your mum,” I teased. “I don’t believe you.”
“You need to come back and try it for yourself then,” Greg said. “You won’t be disappointed.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips, as if picturing the dessert in his mind.
“I guess I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”
There I was again, promising to come back. To spend more time with them. What the hell was I doing? So much for being professional about the whole situation. I was setting myself up for failure. I was leaving in nine days; I couldn’t afford to grow attached to this family.
“Mom wants to be a professional pastry chef one day,” Greg said, elbowing Maggie. “Right, Mom?”
“Gregory Summers, don’t you go blabbing about that kind of thing to Roman,” Maggie said, her cheeks pinking. “Eat your food.”
“I think that’s a wonderful dream, Maggie. Why not go to school for it?”
“I’m not in a position to…at the moment,” Maggie said. “I don’t think I’d want to get properly trained anyway…I—”
“I’m great friends with Madame Bellatrice Laurie back in the UK. She runs a pastry school in London…”
Maggie set down her knife and reached for a glass of water. “Really, Roman, there’s no way we’d ever be able to afford a flight to London. And—oh, this is just—Let’s talk about something else.” Maggie emptied her glass and began refilling it.
“I’ll take all three of you,” I blurted out without thinking. “On my dime. Airfare, hotels, food, entertainment, I’ll pay for it all. You just have to say yes.”
The boys bounced up from their seats and let out a cheer.
“Why would you—We couldn’t possibly,” Maggie said.
“You could stay at any one of my hotels for free, for as long as you want.” I turned to the boys. “You can play video games and order room service twenty-four-seven. I
’ll take you to see the circus. And Big Ben…”
“Stop, Roman,” Maggie begged, shaking her head. I noticed her pale hands trembling. “Please don’t fill their heads with—”
“Can we? Can we go, Mom, please? Just during the winter holidays?” Greg pleaded. “We’ll be so good, I promise. I’ll take care of Jason, you don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll do all my chores without complaining for a year. Please, Mom.”
“Yeah, Mom, can we? Just until January fourth,” Jason chimed in. “School doesn’t even start until then, and London is way more fun than this boring old town.”
I flashed Maggie my biggest smile. “When was the last time you had a vacation?”
“Never,” Maggie admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve never left the West Coast before.”
“Then come. All three of you. Come fly with me.”
“I’ll…think about it,” Maggie said, eyeing her sons, who could hardly stay seated. They were whispering excitedly to each other, and I knew I’d already won them over.
“I want to see the Tower of London,” Greg said. “Maybe we’ll see old British wankers there.”
I nearly choked on my food. “British wankers?”
“Yeah, wankers. Ghosts,” Greg explained.
I let out a belly laugh. “‘Wanker’ doesn’t mean ghosts. It’s actually an insult.”
Greg’s jaw dropped. “Oops.”
“It’s okay, no harm done,” I said. Then in a whisper, I added, “If you come to London, I’ll teach you how to swear like a proper Brit.”
Greg nodded. “Deal.”
“I want to see Buckingham Palace,” Jason said. “I’ll make faces at those guards with the funny hats.”
“Don’t get carried away just yet, boys. I haven’t said yes,” Maggie said. “Now run upstairs and get ready for bed.”
“Aww, do we have to? It’s only nine,” Jason said. “Can we stay up until ten?”
Maggie shook her head. “Go.”
While I helped Maggie clear the dining table, I said, “I’m serious, Maggie, I’d be happy to take you three back to the UK with me.”
“We’d need visas,” she said.