by J. L. Berg
His eyes narrowed on mine but then proceeded, “She thinks you and Cora are, like, destined or whatever. You know how she gets.”
I nodded. “I know; she’s told me.”
“And?”
I let out a breath. “And I don’t know. The idea that fate has something to do with my life, that there’s a plan to all of this? I struggle with it because it means that, somewhere out there, someone decided this”—I pointed to my right arm—“was supposed to happen to me. And what good can come from this? But do I think Cora and I could be something great?” A small smile spread across my face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Well, all right, let’s talk beaches,” he said. “Women love dinner on the beach.”
By the time I got out of there, I had enough date ideas to last until our fifth wedding anniversary, maybe longer.
And I’d never appreciated my best friend more.
Too bad he’d have nightmares of me and his fiancée doing the dirty for weeks.
Dear Friends and Family,
So much to update you on. Gosh, where to begin? Elizabeth—or Lizzie, as we lovingly call her—is thriving. She’s so smart.
And I know every parent says that, but I have a feeling not every parent has a kid like Lizzie. She’s either going to be president one day or our evil overlord. It’s a toss-up.
My parents—hi, Mom and Dad!—will be visiting soon! Mom’s birthday is coming up, and as she’s one of the only normal-ish people in the house who would rather go see a musical than the latest Marvel movie, I’m taking her to a show. In style. Because why the hell not?
On a more serious note, there was a terrible accident off the coast last week. Down by Hatteras, a ferryboat exploded, causing more than a dozen fatalities and nearly double that in injuries. They’re calling it one of the worst ferry accidents in decades.
One of the patients I’m caring for lost his arm. I don’t know why, but I’m captivated by him.
His strength and his sorrow.
The way he seems to smile only when he speaks of home.
I wonder, what kind of place could bring such joy to someone so sad?
Anyway, if any of you are the praying type, please pray for my patient.
His name is Dean.
Molly was in the kitchen when I approached her. She was standing there, looking effortlessly beautiful, as usual, in a casual pair of shorts and a black tank top, humming under her breath as she put together some last-minute breakfast items for the next morning for the small family who was currently staying overnight.
Since school had started, the inn had gone from boisterous to silent nearly overnight. Molly had explained it was normal, the bookings reducing to almost nothing in the next few weeks, but for an outsider, it was a strange phenomenon.
“Hey, Molly,” I said, nearly tiptoeing into the large space.
Normally, the kitchen felt kind of cozy when it was just Lizzie and me in the early hours before the guests came down. But, when Molly was at the helm, manning the burners, it felt like I was intruding on her inner sanctum.
“Hey. What’s up? Are you ready?” she asked before turning around.
I bit my lip, fumbling with the hemline of my T-shirt. “Um, well…that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She pivoted around, a wooden spoon in her hand, and her eyes widened in shock. “You’re not ready! Not even a little bit!”
“I know!” I cried. “You know how I said I wasn’t the makeover type? Well, I lied. I need it, Molly. I need all the help I can get because, when I look at my closet right now, sweat starts pouring from my armpits, and that’s not sexy.”
“No, not at all.”
“And I want to look sexy, you know?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course, hon.”
“So, will you help me? Because I don’t want to screw this up with Dean. I really don’t.”
The memory of his kiss had been my constant companion for two whole days. The sweet taste of his lips, the feel of his mouth against mine, and the gentle touch of his embrace. Every moment had been ingrained in my mind, running on replay as I went through the motions of my daily life.
Had I made the right choice?
Was I moving on too quickly?
What about Lizzie?
Shouldn’t my focus be solely on her?
But, when it all came down to it, I’d remember that kiss. I’d remember the feeling of rightness, and I’d keep moving forward.
With Dean.
She set the spoon down and came toward me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I’m pretty sure you could show up, dressed in just about anything, and that man would adore you just the same. But yes, I know just the person who can help us. I’ll need to make a call though.”
“A call?”
“My little sister, Millie. Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s also got an eye for fashion that is beyond good. That is why she probably got out of here the second she could.”
“Where does she live now?” I asked as we began to make our way toward the back part of the house.
“Florida,” she answered. “She works for a high-end designer and travels a lot. Paris, Rome, New York City—all over really. She rarely comes back here. But she loves to FaceTime, so she can at least see the place from time to time. She doesn’t like to admit it, but I think even she gets homesick.”
I looked away as we walked down the hallway and toward the family room.
Homesick.
It was a feeling I was used to.
Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could almost imagine myself back in my parents’ living room with the gentle hum of the air-conditioning and the fragrant smell of my mother’s homemade enchiladas. My niece would be in high school by now, no doubt dating a cute boy and probably driving my brother crazy. God, what I wouldn’t give to see that.
My heart ached. It physically ached.
“Mommy, I found this website all about Ocracoke!” Lizzie said. “Now, I can learn everything about it!”
I shook my head, pulling myself out of my dream, and put on a stiff smile. “That’s great, honey,” I said while I simultaneously gave Molly a sideways glance that said anything but. “I guarantee, by next week, she knows everyone’s Social Security numbers,” I whispered.
Molly let out a silent chuckle as she pulled out her phone and hit a few keys. Soon, I heard ringing, and true to her word, a gorgeous blonde popped up on the screen.
“Hey! Great timing. I just got off a plane.”
“Where are you?” Molly asked, taking a seat next to Lizzie.
“Milan. More importantly, where are you? Is that our old room? Is that a child? Don’t tell me you and Jake had a kid while I was away. It hasn’t been that long, has it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her joke as I watched her meander her way through what appeared to be an airport. She seemed to multitask perfectly, holding her phone and navigating the busy walkways without batting an eyelash.
And what beautiful eyelashes they were. Where Molly had a wholesome, girl-next-door kind of look going for her, Millie, her younger sister, was all va-va-voom. From her flawlessly styled hair to the expertly applied makeup, I could tell she was definitely a woman who stuck out in a crowd.
No wonder she’d left Ocracoke.
“No, no kids yet. You’re safe. And you still have that wedding date in your calendar, right? It’s this month, Millie; don’t forget. I can’t walk down the aisle without my maid of honor.”
She grinned. “Well, I mean, you could.”
“Millie,” she growled.
“I know, I know. I have the date blocked off. I can’t believe it’s so soon. So, what’s up? Have you opened a daycare at the inn?”
She laughed. “No, this is Lizzie Ashcroft, and this”—she panned the camera over to me where I proceeded to do a lame wave in her sister’s direction—“is Cora Carpenter, Lizzie’s mom. They’re staying at the inn until they find a more permanent place to call home. Th
ey just moved here from Virginia Beach.”
“Oh God, why—I mean, great!” She coughed, making no effort to disguise the mock horror on her face.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Lizzie obviously thought it was funny, too.
“Well, welcome, I guess. What’s it got to do with me? Not that I’m not thrilled you called.”
“We need fashion advice.”
“Come again? You lost me.”
Millie had stopped moving and must have seated herself at a bar or restaurant because, suddenly, she was speaking a different language. “Si,” she said to someone we couldn’t see as she pointed. “Vorrei uno, per favore.” Then, she nodded, and her attention was turned back to us.
“She’s got a date.”
“The kid or the mom?”
“Me,” I said, kind of wishing I had just pulled something out of my closet at this point.
“Oh, okay. Got it. Show me what I have to work with,” she said. “Also, with whom?”
“What?” Molly said,
“With whom does she have a date? There are, like, five eligible men on that island, so I’m bound to know him; I might have even dated him. Figured I’d tell her whether he was worth the time.”
A waiter set a fancy drink in front of her while she waited for an answer.
“Um, Dean Sutherland,” I replied.
A sly smile spread across her face. “You’re setting her up with your old boyfriend? Man, that place gets weirder and weirder. Okay, let’s dress you up.”
I guessed I’d gotten her seal of approval because, within the next twenty minutes, I’d gone from tired mom to understated sex kitten, and Millie McIntyre was officially my new best friend.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said the moment I opened the door.
There, standing in front of me, was a very well-dressed Dean, wearing a pair of distressed jeans that always seemed to hang on his hips in just the right place and a short-sleeved collared shirt that accentuated the green in his eyes.
But, as handsome as he was, it was what was behind him that really grabbed my attention.
“A golf cart?”
He grinned one of those signature Dean grins that sent shivers down my spine and made me think wonderful, evil things.
“Yep.”
“But I thought you didn’t like golf carts?” I asked, unable to hide my amusement.
“No,” he replied, “I said, I’d never driven one, not that I hated them. They’re actually pretty fun. Well, once I got the hang of my gigantic foot pressing on the tiny pedal.”
I laughed as I watched his eyes settle on the short, asymmetrical white dress that seemed to do fabulous things for my legs and made my skin look ridiculously tan.
“You look…” He paused, like he was searching for a word.
“Yes?”
When he stepped forward, my stomach fluttered as his hand tentatively touched my waist. I could smell his aftershave as that grin of his came closer.
“I think I’ve found the perfect word,” he said, lowering his voice as he got closer to my ear. “But I don’t think it’s very polite.”
I sucked in my bottom lip, his eyes watching every second. The tension was building as my mind filled with thoughts of breathless heartbeats and first kisses.
“Dean!” Lizzie’s voice cut through, breaking us apart like two horny teenagers caught together behind the bleachers.
“Hey, there’s my brainiac!” Dean greeted her with enthusiasm, not seeming to miss a beat while I had to take a deep, slow breath to pull myself out of the lust-filled haze I was currently in. He walked inside and bent down to give her a hug.
Would my heart melt every time he did that?
Her small hands barely made it to the middle of his biceps, but she squeezed him hard, closing her eyes tight before letting go.
“Molly and Dr. Jake are going to babysit me! I made a list of all the things we’re going to do while you and Mommy are on a date!”
“Oh, yeah? Let me see,” he said, taking the slightly crumbled sheet of paper she had balled up in her hand. His face went through a mixture of emotions as he read the list to himself. From amusement to shock and back again. “What is this one?” he asked, pointing to something in the middle.
“Jumping Popsicle Sticks,” she said nonchalantly.
“And that is?”
“Oh! You take a bunch of Popsicle sticks and weave them together, creating built-up energy, and when you’re done, you release them, and they kind of jump. It’s really cool. I saw it on—”
“YouTube,” he and I said in unison.
“How did you know?” Lizzie asked, putting her hands on her hips while she giggled.
“Well, I’m sure Jakey and Molly will have loads of fun with this very long and comprehensive list.”
“Jakey?” Lizzie asked, her interest piqued.
Dean laughed, putting an arm around her as I grabbed my purse. “Ah, yes. Be sure to ask him how he got that nickname. It’s adorable.”
I shook my head, amazed at how those two men behaved around each other.
But then again, all of Blake’s so-called best friends were business partners and guys he’d gone to boarding school with, but he never seemed to be extremely close with any of them. I’d always felt sort of sorry for him for not having a close bond with anyone besides me.
When I’d ended things, I’d realized, in giving him that missing link he’d never had, I’d lost every single one of mine in the process.
Looking over at Dean messing around with Lizzie, I couldn’t help but hope that this was my first leap in getting that all back.
“You ready?” he finally said after chasing her out to the back patio to where Jake and Molly were busy putting dinner on the grill. He came back breathless, a happy smile plastered on his face.
“So ready,” I said, grabbing his hand as we made our way out the door. “But are you going to tell me where we’re going in this chariot of champions?”
“Nice name,” he said, our hands swinging between us as we made the short walk down the driveway.
Once we arrived at the passenger side of the stark white rented golf cart, he made a grand gesture of opening the door for me.
A small laugh escaped my lips as I hopped inside, the hem of my skirt rising high on my thighs. Dean’s eyes watched in wonder before he cleared his throat and ran around to the other side to hop in next to me.
“So, I thought, for this first official date of ours, I’d take you on a tour of the town.”
I gave him a curious look. “But I’ve already had a tour of the town” I said. “Several in fact. I have been here for two weeks. In fact, Lizzie and I gave ourselves a pretty nice one, involving ice cream the first day we arrived.”
“Yes,” he replied, unconvinced. “But have you had a proper tour from a proper local?”
“No.”
“Then, you really haven’t seen everything, have you?”
“I guess not.”
He was grinning again.
“You just wanted an excuse to rent a golf cart, didn’t you?”
He turned the key, an unimpressive event for the ears since the cart was battery-operated. It just sort of made a low-key hum.
“Kind of,” he answered before that very large foot he’d mentioned hit the pedal.
And we were off.
Thank goodness the clocks hadn’t been set back an hour yet because we needed every bit of daylight to be able to do and see everything Dean had on his agenda for the night.
“No wonder you and Lizzie get along so well,” I said as we rounded the corner toward the docks. “I didn’t know such a small town could be so big.”
He seemed pleased with himself. “You’re just amazed Ocracoke is so interesting, aren’t you?”
I crossed my arms in front of me as he parked the golf cart. “I knew Ocracoke was interesting. Why do you think I moved here?”
Jumping out, Dean pulled something out of the back—a basket—and looke
d up at me, grinning. “Actually, I don’t know. I assumed it was to find me, but that might be a bit presumptuous.”
I laughed. “A little.”
“You ready to eat?”
I looked around at our surroundings and saw nothing but boats and several parked cars. “Here?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I’d had a great evening so far. We’d been to the lighthouse and the British cemetery where Dean had tried to scare me with ghost stories and old town legends, and then we had gone for a lovely hike out to where Fort Ocracoke once stood.
But dinner in a parking lot?
Surely, there had to be more.
“Ah, there he is,” Dean said, looking behind me to where I heard a car driving up.
I turned to see a truck with a familiar logo on the side.
Sutherland Fishing Company.
Suddenly feeling very nervous, I checked my appearance. Was I going to meet Dean’s family? Shouldn’t he have told me? Did I have bugs in my teeth?
“Hey, Taylor!” Dean called out, taking hold of my hand as a green-eyed younger version of himself walked up to us.
“Hey. Here are the keys. Be careful with the throttle; she’s been a little touchy.”
I felt Dean flinch. “I’m not taking her out. It’s just for the lights and, uh…”
The two brothers stared at one another. There was a spark of something in Taylor’s eyes. Hope maybe. But it was dashed just as quickly as it’d appeared.
“Sure, right. My mistake. I just thought…well, enjoy.” Taylor’s gaze flickered over to me, and he smiled. “This Cora?”
“Yes, sorry. Cora, this is my younger brother, Taylor. Taylor, this is Cora.”
Taylor held out his hand, and I took it. There was a warmth about him but also sadness, a worn-out tiredness beyond his years.
“Nice to meet you, Taylor.”
“You, too, ma’am. You take care of my brother.” He grinned.
“Yes, sir.” I laughed before he turned to leave.
“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he hollered over his shoulder.