Honor on the Cape

by M. K. Meredith

  He wanted to make her his in every possible way.

  Then someday, he’d get her to Ireland and make her dad see in her all the amazing qualities that had been there all along.

  A future without her left his gut twisted more than a day out in rough seas ever could. He released a pent-up breath in a grunt of agreement to Ryker.

  But for now, he’d shut up and focus on getting the mayor to expedite a few last licensing issues they had for the community house.

  Max Stanton and Mayor Sebastian Marth stepped aboard with Judge Carter right behind them. “Look who we found.” Sebastian jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the judge.

  The judge stepped aboard. “I saw the boys out on the boardwalk and thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

  “You a little lost without Maxine, Judge?” Jay teased.

  Ryker snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

  “What the hell ever, you’ve been nothing but rainbows and sunshine since meeting Larkin.”

  Tipping his beer back for a swallow, Ryker grinned. “Sounds like me.”

  Max raised an accusing brow. “I thought we were heading out?”

  Van Buren jerked his beer toward Jay. “This one’s been sharing his goddamn feelings, so she isn’t ready.”

  On the word “feelings,” Sebastian swung away to step off the boat.

  “Get the fuck back here, Martha,” Ryker demanded.

  Dropping his square chin to his chest, Sebastian hesitated at the nickname, then glared at him. The name started in high school before his growth spurt then stuck—at least with his closest friends. The rest of the town didn’t dare. “I came here for beer and poker. I’ve had enough feelings to last me a lifetime today at the office.”

  Max shoved him in the chest and teased in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Mayor Marth, I need your help.”

  Sebastian shoved him back, sending Max over the stanchions and onto the wood deck

  “Fuck, man,” Max yelled.

  Sebastian laughed and accepted a beer from Ryker.

  “I’m not talking about my feelings, jackass.” Jay grabbed a bottle and tried to force the tightness in his neck to relax. “You know how Blayne is—”

  “I’m out.” Sebastian stepped toward dock again.

  “Fuck you.” Jay grabbed the deck brush and threw it at the mayor. It bounced off his meaty body without effect then smacked the judge in the arm.

  “Shit.” Jay scrambled to catch the brush. He’d never get another sip of moonshine again if Teddy went to Maxine telling her he’d been abused.

  “You should have aimed for Martha’s head,” Ryker deadpanned.

  Jay shot his buddy a look. “Not helping.”

  Max grabbed his own beer. “Clearly, we aren’t going out in the water. Are we at least playing a game of poker?”

  “Waiting on Mitch.” Jay sunk down on one of the deck chairs.

  “Just the five of us. Sorry-ass got tricked into helping Maxine out with Larkin’s baby shower.” Ryker’s eyes glinted with humor, and Judge Carter shuddered.

  Max sunk into a chair with a shake of his head and judgment in his tone. “You’re a bad wingman.”

  “Better him than me. I’ve dealt with much worse with my grandmother.”

  Jay nodded. “We all did, but damn if she doesn’t make the best moonshine in Maine. One sip from her most recent batch and I promised to be her slave for life.”

  Sebastian shot him a look, and Max coughed in his hand.

  What the hell, it was bad enough Blayne had her eyes all over the mayor the other day and his big sacks, having him even think of censoring Jay, irritated him on every possible level. He shifted forward in his chair.

  “What?” He challenged.

  “I thought Maxine wasn’t making her concoctions?” Judge Carter questioned.

  Oh. Fuck. Jay could feel all the blood drain from his arrogant brain. What the hell did he just do?

  Blayne didn’t know it yet, but the town would surely welcome her over him after what he just did.

  And if the look on Mayor Marth’s face was any indication, he didn’t have a chance in hell getting anything expedited besides his own ass out of town.

  He was on the losing end of two for two in the past week.

  As much as he loved Ryker and Larkin, he could handle screwing up the launch.

  What he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t allow, was failing on winning back Blayne. The past ten years had shown him what a future without her was like.

  He’d follow her all the way to Ireland if he had to, because there was no way he was letting her go—no matter if she felt there was nothing to let go of.

  She was everything.

  Chapter 13

  Late Wednesday evening, Blayne dug her heels in. “Why are we here?”

  To her surprise, Jamie hadn’t avoided her at all, on the contrary. He’d been at her beck and call, handling any detail. Competent. Capable.

  Dependable.

  Her heart wanted to believe it, but her brain warned her that history repeated itself, it never learned.

  They’d been working non-stop at the center and any free moments she did have had been preparing Eclectic Finds so it would keep thriving while she supervised from abroad—only made possible with good help.

  The thought brought her round again to Jamie.

  The Astor estate loomed above her like the Disney Castle. At least, what she imagined the Disney Castle would look like from a two-year-old’s point of view because that’s exactly how she felt at that moment as Jamie propelled her along the river-rock walkway toward the large, double front door.

  She wanted her mother’s skirts to hide behind, but instead self-consciously smoothed the red polka dots of the one she wore. Losing her ma hurt the most when she needed her. In a way though, it had gotten easier over the years to not constantly think about the fact she was gone.

  Now at least, a soft reminder in the background, like windchimes on the breeze, rather than an unceasing, clamoring loss. And every time she missed her da. But with him, the pain ran deep. He was alive. He was there.

  He told her to never come home.

  Inspecting the shine of her patent leather high-heeled Mary Janes, she gained strength from the powerful red that matched her silk, off-the-shoulder blouse, and instead of cowering like she wanted to, or hitting Jamie like she yearned to, she tilted her head to take in the property straight on.

  She’d hit Jamie later.

  The home was reminiscent of a French chateau in a towering, crescent shape that mimicked the coastline of the North Cove, about a mile up the coast from where Larkin lived. From the first time she’d ever laid eyes on his home, she’d never seen anything so grand in her life and never expected to again.

  “It’s called dinner. We’ve been so busy confirming all the last-minute details for the gala that I thought a home-cooked meal would give us a chance to catch a breath. Besides, my mother missed you and asked me to bring you by.”

  She scoffed. “Your ma does not miss me, and you know it.”

  Jamie looked at her as if she were crazy and opened his mouth to speak, but the front door was yanked open and a small squeal came from inside.

  “Blayne!” Margaret Astor gripped her hands together, taking in the vision of Blayne as if Christmas had come early.

  A warm rush of nostalgia filled her at the sight of Jamie’s mother, when happily ever after had seemed like a reality instead of the hard, cold joke she knew it to be. Mrs. Astor hadn’t changed a bit over the last decade. Still as elegant as ever, though at the moment, not quite as poised as she usually presented herself.

  Warm, small hands, grabbed Blayne and drew her in for a fierce hug. She didn’t remember his mother being quite so strong, but the wind nearly got knocked out of her in the embrace.

  She almost made the mistake of melting into those motherly arms but stopped herself just in time. “Hello, Mrs. Astor. It’s been awhile.” Awkward didn’t begin to describe her feelings as she diseng
aged from the warm welcome.

  Her da had been like that.

  Every friend she and her siblings had dragged home like stray puppies off the street were given a place at the table and more attention than they ever expected…or probably wanted.

  He’d tell great stories of deep sea fishing with his father back in the old days and jokes that left the kids laughing, but what was more, he’d ask questions, and when the kids answered, he’d listened.

  Leaning in, those deep blue eyes focused as if nothing else in the world mattered. “What happened next?” he’d say.

  That was always his question. He wanted to hear more. And in that moment, each kid felt as if nothing else in the world mattered but them and their story.

  What happened next.

  Well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

  Visiting the Astor home with its photographic history of belonging displayed along the hallways only reminded her of how painfully apparent it was that she didn’t—at his house, in Cape Van Buren, or in the States at all. This evening would simply prove it and allow her to move on. Maybe the visit was exactly what she needed.

  Margaret led her through the large foyer toward the back of the house. “Far too long.” She tossed an accusing glare at her son. “You know I wanted to kill Jay for leaving you like he did.”

  Blayne tripped on her own two feet.

  “Mother.” Jamie grimaced.

  Margaret steadied her. “Are you okay, my dear?” She continued to lead them toward Blayne’s favorite room in the beautiful house.

  His mother hadn’t agreed?

  It was as if she’d been knocked in the head during a roller derby match and had woken up in an alternate reality.

  They entered a round sitting room with pillar along the walls that flanked floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It had gold drapes and marble floors, and the view of the moonlit, white-capped waves rolling in from the ocean was the most breathtaking ever.

  Well almost.

  The lighthouse view gave this one a run for its money, especially with Jamie wrapped around her.

  She blinked, trying to make sense of everything that didn’t. But she wasn’t sure how to handle the swirling in her chest that invited her stomach in to join the dance. What did Mrs. Astor mean she wanted to kill Jamie? Surely, she’d had a huge sigh of relief that their only son hadn’t married at eighteen, and to a poor Irish girl who abandoned her family at that.

  Abandoned.

  Damn it.

  Peeking at Jamie, she followed the line of his profile while he poured them wine from a beautiful teardrop decanter that had been the center display on a silver terrace bar cart. His jaw clenched rhythmically, and his shoulders seemed tenser than usual. She didn’t even bother to suppress the grin that strained her cheeks.

  He deserved any discomfort that came from this little impromptu visit.

  “Thank you, darling. Don’t forget Father.” Jamie’s mother took the offered glass of wine then dipped her chin toward the arched opening into the library as Astor Senior joined them.

  “Blayne.” He embraced her smelling of old money and worldly experience before she could decide how to greet him.

  He’d dropped a few pounds over the years, probably from his surgery. From what Jamie had told her, the doctors had been on him to start slowing down and thinking of his heart.

  “You are looking quite fit, Mr. Astor.”

  He patted his chest, smiling at his wife. “It was either do what the doctors say or get on the wrong side of Margaret.” Leaning in, he gave her a wink. “No one wants to do that.”

  Margaret laughed, swatting her husband on the arm. “James, please. I’m the easiest-going woman you know. Which is the only reason you’re still married. Who else would put up with you?”

  They teased in that good-natured way that was full of love and admiration and wrapped her in a blanket of warm emotion. Her parents had been the same way once upon a time.

  Mr. Astor kissed her cheek. “That is the truth.”

  Blayne didn’t know everything that may have transpired over the years, but the two of them continued to thrive in their relationship. She went a tad green. A connection like that was rarely seen off the movie screen or pages of a book.

  Jamie handed her a glass of wine, whispering under his breath, “She had to be easygoing. He was always gone.” It sounded like an accusation but Blayne couldn’t quite pin down his meaning.

  “Obviously, they are still madly in love. It’s nice to see.”

  He dipped his chin. “My dad’s lucky she didn’t walk out years ago.”

  She shook her head, peering closely at his face. “What are you talking about? They’ve always seemed to have a wonderful relationship. Your home life was pretty idyllic, if I remember all your stories correctly.”

  “And it was. But everything comes at a price.” He stepped close behind her, holding her hips as his parents continued their verbal play. The sensation of his fingers pressing into her flesh sent tingles spreading over her that had no business in his parents’ company.

  She discreetly shoved his hands away. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

  “What was that, my dear?” Mrs. Astor asked.

  “Oh, I said, I’d love a little air.” She hiccupped, which was quickly joined by a quiet rolling laugh from Jamie.

  Margaret opened one of three sets of large French doors. “What a great idea. Jay, open the others, please.”

  A light, breeze floated in with the rumble of waves and a call or two from the seagulls.

  Blayne stepped to the door’s threshold. “I’ve always loved this room. This view.”

  Margaret joined her. “You could have visited any time,” she said softly.

  The offer was sweet but unrealistic. Eighteen-year-olds did not keep in touch with their ex’s families. That had crazy ex-girlfriend written all over it, but the thought was kind all the same.

  And unexpected.

  Nothing about this visit, their warm welcome, or the feelings stirred up by being in the Astor home was what she’d been ready for, walking through the front door.

  Her brain tried to sort out her feelings from the facts—or at least what she’d thought they were. But the instead of dropping into place and clearing up, it all got fuzzier.

  “Tell me more about the gala,” his mother murmured. “I’d love to help in any way I can. I know a lot of people.”

  Just the mention of it pushed Blayne’s mind to start racing with possibility. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited about something outside of when she’d opened Eclectic Finds. “I have a lot of it planned already, but there might be something you can assist me with.”

  Jamie cocked his head. “I didn’t realize we were that far along?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve had a vision of what Larkin wanted from the beginning, so I’ve been working on it as we went. Seemed smarter than trying to plan it all at once.”

  His eyes narrowed at the jab.

  Mrs. Astor smiled. “I wish I could see your plans. I know your mother is smiling down, proud as any parent ever could be.”

  The words settled like the gentle sweep of a mother’s fingertips along her brow, and she blinked rapidly to hold it together. She’d always hoped her mother would be proud of her but gave up after following Jamie to the States. No mother would be proud of that.

  She smiled tremulously. “I hope so.”

  “Hope? I don’t understand that at all. It’s a fact,” Mrs. Astor declared. “I know, I’m a mother, and I’m proud of you.”

  With a small shake of her head, Blayne argued. “I don’t think my mother would be very happy with all of the decisions I’ve made. But you are sweet.”

  Margaret clasped Blayne’s hand between her own. “No, you are. And a mother doesn’t have to like every decision her children make, it isn’t her life to live, but theirs. When they find themselves and embark on the path that was meant for them, there is no way but to b
e proud. Hear me when I tell you…she’s proud of her beautiful daughter.”

  An image of her mother clapping for her from the audience of the myriad school events of her youth overwhelmed her in a wave of homesickness.

  “Mom.” Jamie’s voice broke through, saving her from an embarrassing display of pent-up tears. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and sniffed.

  Margaret gave a determined nod. “Now about that gala…”

  Blayne sipped her wine to settle her emotions, allowing for the possibility that Jamie’s mother might be right. Getting caught up in the excitement of it all, she lifted her phone. “I can show you.”

  “I didn’t know about any plans,” Jamie accused with a look that promised he had ideas of how she could make up for it later. Or maybe it was a trick of the light and her own twisted wanting playing with her libido.

  She spared him a brief glance as his mother clapped in anticipation.

  Mr. Astor poured more wine and settled into one of the tufted, high-back chairs. “Sit with me, son. They might be awhile.”

  Margaret sat on a cushioned wrought iron chair at the table and gestured to another. “I’d love to see.”

  Blayne opened her files. Globe-lit canopies, ocean rock fire pits, and torches for lighting, red and white wine and champagne wishing-well fountains in honor of Archer. Silent auction items from the most exclusive establishments in the community with the proceeds going directly into the Archer Sinclair Scholarship Fund.

  Food catered by Delizioso, coffee from the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, and Cupcakes from the North Cove Confectionery. The only thing she still hadn’t nailed down yet was the entertainment.

  “I have a few bands pre-booked, but they don’t seem quite right. This isn’t just a celebration, this is a birth of something bigger than any one of us and will serve all of us.”

  Margaret squeezed her hand. “Yes. It is so lovely that you see that.”

  She smiled at Jamie’s mom and some of the fuzziness cleared. This woman not only seemed genuinely happy to have her in her home, but she seemed excited to share in the details for the gala, and a timid flare of happiness warmed Blayne from the inside out.