“I think I may have overcooked your steak,” he said when he finished praying. “The timer for the potatoes went off, and I got distracted.”
The steak was brown throughout. “It’s perfect.” Thank God for distractions. What was she going to do about the corn? Everyone liked corn. Everyone except her. It only took her right back to seventh-grade gym class, where she’d vomited her lunch on her favorite Nikes in front of everyone.
“So, tell me about yourself.”Tucker stabbed his meat. “You work at the café, do some editing and research for Renny Hannigan. What else is there to know about the mysterious Sabrina Kincaid?”
She took her time chewing the meat, then sipped her tea. “There’s no mystery. I grew up in the South and went away to college. I visited Nantucket on my—vacation—and decided to stay. I guess you could say the beauty of the island lured me.”
In truth, it had been weeks before she’d come out from her depression enough to notice the beauty. Slowly, she’d noticed the sweet scent of hydrangea, the rugged, scraggly brush, the beauty of the marina. Initially her only reason for staying was she hadn’t wanted to return to Macon. The island felt isolated from the rest of the world, an incubator, and she’d been in sore need of the respite.
He was waiting for her to continue.
“I saw a Help Wanted sign in the window of the café for a server and got the job.” She wondered if he thought that was a lame job for someone with a college degree. But he’d quit law school to follow a less lucrative passion.
“I’d intended it to be temporary until I found something more fitting with my degree, but the tips were good, and then I found Renny. My work with her is fulfilling, and it could turn into full-time eventually.” She regretted mentioning her degree and hoped he wouldn’t inquire further. “Either way, I’ve enjoyed working with her and have even considered getting into editing someday.” See, she had ambitions.
“Tell me about your work with Renny. We attend the same church, but I didn’t know she was an author.”
“She has an agent, but she’s not published yet.” Sabrina eyed Tucker. “I thought we were going to brainstorm.”
“Are you in a hurry?”
She shrugged, then wiped her mouth. “It’s your dime.”
“That’s right, it is. About Renny . . .”
His eyes twinkled. Why was he curious about her boring life? For a man so rushed to find his lady friend, he was sure taking his time.
“I struck up a conversation with Renny at the café when she was reading a book I’d recently read. We started talking about plots and characters; then she invited me for supper to pick my brain about her work in progress. When my ideas worked for her, she asked if I’d be interested in exchanging room and board for help on her stories.”
“But she’s not published?”
Sabrina shook her head. “She should be though. She just finished her ninth manuscript, and it’s superb. Frankly, I’m shocked her work hasn’t been picked up yet.”
“She told me you have of way of inventing complicated plots and twists.”
Sabrina salted her potato and stirred. “I read a lot. I guess it becomes intuitive after a while.” Change the subject before he asks what you read. She didn’t want to lie, and he knew Sweetpea read mysteries.
“You have a beautiful home.” The sun, low in the sky, glowed behind a swath of pink clouds. Somewhere nearby, a boat knocked against the rubber sides of a pier.
“Thanks.”
They ate in silence a few minutes. She should ask about him, but couldn’t bring herself to inquire about things she already knew. Besides, the sooner they got on with this, the sooner she could leave.
She finished her potato and began poking at the corn. She had to get rid of it. Her stomach gurgled in response to the thought.
She drained the last of her iced tea. “Could I bother you for another glass?”
“Glad to.”
When he was out of view, she scraped the corn into the water. Great. Corn floats. She helped it toward shore with her hand and was in her seat before Tucker returned.
“Thanks.” Now that the corn was gone, she could focus on laying the groundwork for the inevitable conclusion that Sweetpea was unfindable.
“I have to say,” she started, “most of Sweetpea’s clues are vague.”
A bee hovered around the porch railing behind Tucker. Sabrina tensed. Go away, bee.
“She’s been careful not to reveal important details,” he said.
The bee passed the railing and entered the porch, flying toward the table. No, no, no. Go away. Sabrina set down her fork, keeping a close watch. It flew over Tucker’s shoulder and headed toward her.
She pressed her spine against the wicker back, barely breathing. Everything in her wanted to jump up and run into the house.
It’s just a bee. It’s. Just. A. Bee.
“I keep thinking there must be something there, though,” he said. “With so many messages, surely there are enough clues to get us close.”
The insect stopped over the pansies, hovering. It caught Tucker’s eye. He moved his hand off the table as if to shoo it away, then reached for the saltshaker instead.
Don’t panic. It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just investigating the flowers. She should say something. Her mind couldn’t seem to formulate a thought. The bee nearly settled on one of the petals, then moved on to the next.
She glanced at Tucker. He was studying her, one eyebrow higher than the other. Say something. “Maybe I’ll find something as I get through the rest of the letters.”
The bee hovered higher, seemingly bored with the flowers. It flew toward her. She held her breath as it floated in front of her. A red shirt! She’d worn a red shirt. I’m not a flower, stupid bee!
“Are you okay?”
Breathe, Sabrina! The bee closed in. She could hear the buzz of its wings. She grabbed her napkin from the table and swatted it away, trying to appear calm despite the fact that her insides were as volatile as a shaken can of coke.
Tucker reached out and waved his hand until the bee retreated. It flew over the railing and around the corner.
“Don’t like bees?”
She wasn’t hiding it as well as she’d thought. “Not so much.”
She reached for her fork. She was trembling, for heaven’s sake. She darted a glance toward the corner to ensure the bee wasn’t returning for the giant red flower.
“You were saying?” Tucker said.
Sabrina had no idea what she’d been saying. She sucked in a cleansing breath. Where was she?
Oh, yes, that it was time to lay some groundwork. She sipped her tea. “I just read the message where you asked about meeting her.”
Tucker’s eyes fell, his lashes hooding his blue eyes.
What was he thinking? Was he reliving the moment when she’d ignored his question? How long had he waited that night for her reply? How had he felt when he realized she didn’t want to meet? If only she could’ve explained.
“Why did you ask her?” The question escaped before she could stop it.
“When you really connect with someone, it’s a rare and valuable thing. I’d come to care about her.” He gave a half grin. “It might seem crazy that I feel so strongly about a woman I met online, but it’s not. It’s real.”
The passion in his eyes mesmerized her. “Why do you care so much about her?”
“Why do you ask?”
She froze for a second, then took a sip of tea and picked up her fork. Was she wrong for keeping him at a distance?
What if? What if she let it happen? What if she told him she was Sweetpea and let the cards fall where they may? She looked at the familiar planes of his face and wondered what it would be like if she had the privilege of running her hand along his jaw, of kissing his eyelids closed, of tucking her face in the crook of his neck, and breathing in the scent of his skin.
What would it be like to come home to him, his smell, his touch, rather than a skimpy email?
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She set her fork down and laid her napkin on her plate. She wasn’t Arielle, with long, blonde hair and stunning good looks. She was Sabrina, plain and awkward. Imagine what he’d think if you told him who you are. Imagine the disappointment. The confusion. And that was just for starters. Eventually he’d find out what she’d done and the relationship would be set on a course for disaster.
She couldn’t tell him. To do so would risk everything. She swallowed against the ache in her throat. “It’s obvious she doesn’t want to meet,” she said as gently as she could.
“I’ve never been one to give up easily.”
He was downright stubborn about some things. “What did she say the next time you asked?”The words escaped before she realized her mistake. How could she know he’d mentioned it again? “I’m assuming you asked more than once.”
“She insisted she wanted to keep the relationship the way it was. She said it worked for her that way.”
“But it doesn’t work for you.” What are you doing, Sabrina?
He pushed back his plate and folded his arms on the table. “I want more.”
Her eyes locked on his. She couldn’t pull them away if she tried. And truth be told, she didn’t want to try. He was looking at her as if . . . as if he wanted to look at her.
You’re misreading the signal.
He was looking at her like Jared had when he walked her to her apartment at college. When the night was over, but he didn’t want it to be. Tucker was looking at her the way Jared had right before his lips found hers.
Ridiculous! Tucker had feelings for Sweetpea, not her. So they were one and the same—he didn’t know that. He couldn’t be making eyes at her when he thought he had feelings for someone else.
Could he?
“Why do you think she doesn’t want to meet?” Vulnerability weighted his eyes.
What could she say that wouldn’t hurt him? “Maybe, for whatever reason, she’s comfortable with the status quo. Maybe she can’t risk losing what she has for the mere possibility of something more.”
“Isn’t it worth the risk?”
“Not to her, maybe.” She was getting perilously close to the cliff ’s edge. She tore her gaze away, twisted the watch on her wrist. “Or there could be some other reason. Who knows?”
“You think she’s married, don’t you?”
Sabrina looked up, surprised. “What? No.”
“’Cause she’s not.”
“I never said she was.”
“What, then? Locked in someone’s attic? In a women’s penitentiary? What possible reason could she have for not meeting?”
“I doubt her reasons are so concrete. People are motivated by numerous things, many of them internal and intangible. We could sit here and speculate all day and still not come close. In the end, what does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why? What if you find her and she didn’t want to be found? What if she’s not who you think she is? How would that affect your relationship? What if it changed everything? What if it ruined what you have now?”
He took that in, staring over her shoulder. The sun had disappeared and the sky had darkened as if someone had twisted a dimmer switch. “It won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
He looked at her, his eyes glittering. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Well.” Sabrina clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Maybe she’s not.”
Sweetpea: There’s nothing like running to pound out your frustrations. After the episode with Jaylee and Jared, I was fit for a marathon.
Chapter Twelve
Sabrina’s feet pounded the vacant cobblestone street. In the distance, dawn’s fingers curled around the horizon, nudging the sky awake with shades of midnight blue and periwinkle.
She liked this time of day, before the island awakened, before the chatter of birds roused the tourists. This time of day she could be alone with her thoughts and enjoy the quiet island sounds that were swallowed by the daytime bustle. The whisper of sea oats brushing together, the sound of the leaves shimmying in the wind.
When the street opened to the wharf, she turned and made her way toward Brant Point Lighthouse and Jetties Beach, where her calves would get a good workout on the sand. Her breath came in shallow puffs, and she welcomed the salt-laden breeze that blew in off the harbor.
Her thoughts turned to the message Arielle had left on her voice mail the day before. How many phone calls would Sabrina have to ignore before her cousin would give it up? Maybe after the wedding, things would settle down and everyone would go back to their lives and leave her alone.
She turned onto Easton Street, realizing her feet had carried her to the route she tried to avoid. She picked up her pace; the sooner she passed it, the better. The White Elephant stood to her right, the hotel’s lights still glowing in the early morning hours. But she didn’t look. Wouldn’t look.
Her lungs protested the sprint, but she kept on. Sweat trickled down her neck and between her shoulder blades. She pushed herself harder, lengthening her stride until she was past the property. Only then did she slow her pace, letting her speed taper to a walk as she neared the end of the road where the beach met the pavement. Her lungs worked to keep pace with her pounding heart. She drew her wrist across her forehead, across her eyes, trying to wipe away the sweat, the thoughts. But still the memory came. The memory of the night that had started it all. Had started a cataclysmic chain of events that changed her life forever.
The restaurant had been slow, and her boss let her go home halfway through her shift. “You’ve been working so many hours, kiddo. Besides, I’m sure you have last-minute wedding things to do.”
Sabrina was grateful. She’d been unprepared for the hundreds of details involved in planning a wedding, and even though Aunt Bev had helped, Sabrina wanted everything to be perfect. She smiled, checking the date on her watch as she drove home. Six more days. She considered stopping at Jared’s apartment, but she needed to decide on seating arrangements for the rehearsal dinner, wrap the wedding party gifts, and start packing for their honeymoon. Neither of them had been to Nantucket, but she’d heard it was the perfect honeymoon destination. Quiet and quaint, slow paced. She and Jared could rest after the hectic months leading up to the wedding. She needed to remind him to confirm their reservations.
She pulled into her apartment’s drive. Jaylee was home, no doubt resting after a long day studying for her bar exam. Sabrina had been helping her between the hours at the restaurant and the wedding preparations.
She grabbed the bag from the passenger seat. She’d finally found something blue and wanted to show Jaylee. She found the silver pendant earrings with tiny light-blue stones in a small boutique that afternoon, and they were perfect.
The parking lot light buzzed overhead and cast a faint yellow tint on the graveled lot. On the second floor of the building, her apartment was dark behind the thin sheers. She entered the building, dashed up the carpeted stairs, then fished for her keys in her bag. The smell of garlic and onion filled the hallway, and she knew Mr. Figliono had fixed a big batch of lasagna again.
She shifted the bag to her other hand and unlocked the door, stepping through it and closing it behind her. Country music blared from the speakers, a male voice crooning about lost love.
Already Sabrina was considering the rehearsal dinner and wondering what she would do about Aunt Linda and Aunt Cathy. They didn’t get along and, in fact, had not spoken since Christmas two years prior when Aunt Cathy bought presents after agreeing on no gift exchange. Words had flown, loud ones. A door had slammed; then tires had peeled from the drive, leaving a roomful of awkward silence.
It hadn’t been the first family argument between them, Aunt Bev had said. Sabrina couldn’t imagine anything significant enough to divide two sisters.
Since that Christmas, holidays had been comprised of one aunt or the other, but not both under the same roof, and certainly not in the same room. Sabrina
wondered how she could arrange them in a room with a U-shaped table. Maybe one or the other wouldn’t show, but they’d both agreed to come.
She set her bag on the foyer table and kicked off her shoes, setting them out of the way. Her middle toe poked through a hole. Time for new socks. One more thing for her to-do list. It could wait until after the wedding. She would only need sandals on their honeymoon.
She rounded the corner where the hall opened to the small living room, her hand reaching for the light switch. But a noise, a groan, sounded over the country crooning. Through the sheers, the parking lot light shed a yellow glow over the space. Two people embraced on the couch. A man was half on top of Jaylee. Sabrina wondered if she should grab a blunt object or call 911. As her eyes adjusted, she realized her cousin was stroking the back of his head, not fighting him off.
Jaylee didn’t have a boyfriend, and she didn’t sleep around. Sabrina felt like a Peeping Tom standing there, watching. She stepped backward, wondering where she could go.
Her foot connected with the tall metal pail holding a cluster of artificial sunflowers. It scraped backward on the wood floor and clanged against the wall, an awkward percussion over the slow country verse. Jaylee and the man jumped apart.
Sabrina felt her face warming the instant before she saw his face. In the dark, his features were obscured. It was his silhouette against the pale wall behind him. It was the way he hunched slightly, the way he cleared his throat.
Her fingers felt for the light switch on the wall and stumbled across the protrusion. She flipped it up.
Jared blinked against the glaring overhead light.
Jaylee jumped to her feet. “Sabrina!” She straightened her shirt. The top two buttons of her favorite pink blouse were undone.
Sabrina looked at Jared. His hand covered half his face, his elbow protruding outward.
Jaylee took a step toward her, reaching out.
Sabrina moved away. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was a deep snarl.
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