Maddie sat back in her chair and listened while Joseph and Sam discovered they shared a passion for sailing and at one time had lived in the same town in northern California. By the time they got around to the Key lime pie, the writing was on the wall. No matter how many flaws Maddie saw in Sam Eastland’s character, they were going to be swept away in broad generous gestures by Joseph’s obvious liking for the man.
Maddie toyed with the stem of her empty wineglass and listened to the light talk. Sam was solicitous of Eleanor in a way that surprised Maddie. There was light teasing between them, but running beneath it was a river of affection.
“Maddie has a wonderful flair for fresh design,” Joseph was saying, “as well as an unusual way of approaching projects.”
Maddie tuned back in at the mention of her name. She noticed the look that passed over Sam’s face, the slight lifting of his smile, the laughter in his eyes, and she knew exactly which unusual approach he was remembering. At first it annoyed her, and then she decided it was a waste of energy. If he wanted to sit there after a fine dinner of soft-shell crab and think about her naked, that was certainly his prerogative. She lifted her chin, tilted her head slightly, and smiled brightly at him. “I do what works,” she said pleasantly,
In spite of herself, Maddie enjoyed the rest of the evening. Eleanor was a treat, a handsome energetic woman who had raised two children, buried one husband, and obviously kept Sam Eastland in line. She never hesitated to speak her mind to him, but it was always tempered with affection, and Sam obviously adored her. So that gave her and Sam one thing in common, Maddie thought: they both liked Eleanor.
“Well, my dears,” Eleanor said finally, “I hate to end this evening, but I need to be on my way.” She looked at Maddie and explained. “My sister lives in Watsonville. I’m going to spend the rest of the weekend with her.”
“I’ll drive you over,” Joseph volunteered immediately. “That way Maddie can show Sam what’s going on with the house before it gets too late.”
“Wait—” Maddie began, but it was a waste of breath. Joseph was already standing, his arm extended to Eleanor, and she was responding with equal enthusiasm. There was no way Maddie could thwart Cupid without it coming back to haunt her. She glanced at Sam. The pensive look had come back to his face. He knew he was being manipulated, and he didn’t like it any more than she did. But when Eleanor bent low and kissed him on his cheek, she saw the sternness melt.
“Well, let’s get this over with then,” Sam said, pushing out his chair. “I need to get back to San Jose.” The thought of being alone with Maddie was having a distinct effect on him, and he seemed powerless to do anything about it. What was it about her? What he needed to do was get out of this place, get back to the city where his world was intact and logical.
Maddie agreed with Sam and quickly followed him out of the restaurant and to his car. As they turned in the drive to the beach house a short while later, Sam noticed that the spotlights in the front of the house had been replaced with new ones, and all along the winding drive, small ornamental lights caught the glare of his headlights and winked at them. “Nice,” he said.
“It was dark,” Maddie replied. “You needed them.”
“Good idea.” The lights gave the house a warm, welcoming feel, distinctly different from the way it had been. And he liked it.
Once inside, Maddie flipped a switch and the still-empty house was bathed in a soft golden glow. “We don’t want exotic paint colors,” Maddie explained, “so this won’t take us long. The house is so beautiful all by itself that we’re using natural tones. The view and some artwork will fill in color.”
“Fine.”
“But in a couple of the bedrooms we could do something—”
“Okay.” Sam’s gaze traveled beyond the wall of windows to the sea. His limbs relaxed, his jaw loosened. It was a dark night, but a light fog rolled up off the ocean, casting an eerie spell.
Why hadn’t he come here more these past few years? Elizabeth had never liked it here, had preferred to spend her weekends at home with friends, entertaining; vacations usually meant going back to England. They had decorated the place to the hilt, then left it alone to gather dust, coming down once in a while with carloads of people for a catered meal. Suddenly that all seemed far away and unfamiliar, and in the clean unadorned beauty of the empty house, it seemed improper.
From the foot of the open stairway, Maddie watched him curiously. He was lost again, retreating somewhere inside his head. “We probably ought to get on with this,” she said finally. “It looks like fog is rolling in—”
“What?” Sam turned around, saw her on the steps with the light behind her haloing her thick black hair. For a brief second he thought it was a hallucination. And then his mind cleared and he focused on her words. “Sure,” he said briskly. “Good idea,” and followed her quickly up the wide, winding steps.
In the master bedroom, Maddie had suggested one deep green wall, with the others in the off-white color that was spread through the downstairs. Sam found he liked it, liked the open drama without any frill. And he liked, too, the warm earth tones stroked on the walls of the guest bedrooms. They moved on to the room at the end of the hallway with the window seat and skylights. Sam walked in and stopped short. The swatches of color on the walls were bright coral and green, and a sample of carpet thrown onto the floor was multicolored, feminine, soothing.
He frowned. “What’s this?”
“I thought we could do some stencils in here, something gay and bright. Then paint everything else—the bookcases, woodwork, window seat—white, and spread bright cushions everywhere. And I’ve found some wonderful children’s furniture—”
“Children’s furniture?” His brows pulled together. He turned slowly and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“For your daughter,” she said. “It seemed the perfect room for her, with that wonderful window seat and all the bookshelves. It’s a little girl’s dream room.”
“My daughter doesn’t live with me,” he said.
“I understand. But when she visits you—”
He shook his head. “I visit her.”
His tone was controlled, calm, and cool.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Maddie said.
“No need to be sorry. Just make it into a guest room, like the others.” He was out of the room and down the steps. “What else is there? Eleanor mentioned papers—”
“Yes,” Maddie said, finally catching up with him. “There are some papers we would like you to sign, but they’re at my house.”
Sam was heading out the door. He could almost see Sara in that room, her small agile form racing toward the window to look out at the sea. Was that what five-year-old girls did? And the fact that he didn’t know pressed heavily on his heart as he drove in silence to the other side of town and the tree-lined Santa Cruz street on which Maddie lived.
“Well, this is it,” Maddie said.
Sam pulled the car up to the curb and got out. He looked up at the freshly painted house. A friendly, broad porch holding rockers and a swing and a jungle of plants ran across the front of the house and along one side. Flower boxes overflowing with geraniums hung at each window.
“Home sweet home,” Maddie said.
“Yours?”
“I rent it from Joseph.” She held open the screen door and Sam walked in.
In an instant Eeyore was off the couch and at Maddie’s side. He sniffed at Sam’s pant legs for a few seconds, then batted the visitor’s legs with his thick tail.
Maddie laughed. “You’ve passed inspection.”
“I like you too,” Sam said to the dog. He scratched Eeyore behind his ears as he took in what he could see of Maddie’s house. The front hall was small but light and clean, and smelled of wildflowers. The moldings around the doors and ceiling and floor were dark and rubbed to a lustrous shine, the walls white with paintings of the sea and forest, of wild birds and brilliant flowers and vivid sunsets over the ocean.
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“Do you like it?” Maddie asked, leading him into the living room. Her eyes were bright, her voice touched with pride. This house was light-years away from Sam’s land of place, but when she had moved in five years ago, she had worked tirelessly, sometimes staying up all night, making it hers, a place where she could mend.
“It’s wonderful,” Sam said honestly. He looked around again, admiring the simplicity. “It’s peaceful and soothing, not cluttered with stuff. I like it.”
Maddie was surprised at his insightfulness. He had seen through the plainness right to the heart of what she had sought in her home. “Thank you,” she said, her smile warm.
Sam could see Maddie’s talent everywhere. In the choice of fabrics, the picture groupings, the ability to take an old couch and transform it into a bright, flowery piece of furniture. A strange, almost uninvited feeling swept through him as he began to sense her spirit in the house. He frowned against the feeling. Maddie was really getting to him now. Next thing he knew he’d be talking to ghosts.
“The papers?” Maddie was saying. She looked up at him, into his dark, pondering eyes. “These are the agreements with our subcontractors that Joseph would like you to sign. Why don’t you sit here and look them over while I get us some tea, and then you can be on your way before it gets too late.”
Sam took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, then sat at the round oak table in the window bay and sorted through the papers, scrawling his name on the bottom. But he couldn’t concentrate on papers or subcontractors. The house was so much like the woman who lived in it that he had the odd sensation of being surrounded by her. He could feel her, smell her, touch her.
When Maddie brought in the tea, she discovered he had moved over to the sofa, settled his long frame into the soft cushions, and closed his eyes. Eeyore slept comfortably at his feet.
“Are you asleep?” she whispered.
One eye opened. “I’m just relaxing.”
“Okay, but don’t fall asleep, Sam. You still have a drive ahead of you.”
“Right.”
“But I’m glad you’re relaxing. You certainly don’t do much of that.”
Sam lifted one brow.
“Well, it’s obvious.” She put the tray down on the glass coffee table and sat beside him. “Santa Cruz will be good for you. It’s hard not to relax here.”
“There is a kind of spell about this place.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“I thought you were a native.”
Maddie’s laugh was low and soft. “Maybe I lived here in another life and I simply found my way back, I don’t know. But I do love it here. Santa Cruz has given me something important. I came here looking for it, and I found it.”
Sam watched her eyes deepen as she spoke. They were like the sea, a pool of light and color that was always changing. Now, in the dim light of the small room, they swam with emotion. He wanted to ask what brought her here and what caused the flickering emotion in those remarkable eyes. But years of caution, of avoiding connections, stopped him, and instead he asked, “What has it given you, Maddie?”
“Myself,” she said simply.
Sam nodded. “How long have you been here?”
“Five years. A lifetime—” She filled a teacup and extended it to him.
Her fingers brushed his hand accidentally and Sam felt a rush, a melting deep inside him. He took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch. “So you didn’t come here for the job with Joseph?”
“No, not a job. I came here … to live.”
Sam lifted one arm to the sofa back and rested it there. She moved when she spoke and her long thick hair brushed against the bare skin of his arm. He didn’t move.
“Anyway, Sam,” Maddie went on, her voice picking up, “I think once your house is done, you’ll see that East of the Ocean can be a tonic for you, a soothing, wonderful—”
Sam’s concentration flagged and Maddie’s words began to float about his head. Soothing and wonderful … hell, he felt that way right now, here, in this small, plain house. His fingers dropped to her shoulder and touched the smooth bare skin. He felt her sharp intake of breath.
“Sam, I—” she began.
“Yoo-hoo, Maddie!”
Sam pulled his hand back. In the next second a door banged and glass rattled.
Maddie turned toward the hallway. “Hi, Lily.”
A pretty blond woman a few years older than Maddie stood in the doorway. Her eyes shifted from Maddie to Sam, then widened in delight. “Well, hello there! I didn’t know Maddie had company.” She grinned and walked in, flopping down in an oversized chair.
“Lily, meet Sam; Sam, Lily Thorpe, a good friend. Lily lives next door with two beautiful kids and the best husband in the world.”
“All sound asleep,” she said. “I got the kids bathed and bedded, then settled down with Jack to a wonderful, romantic dinner with wine and candles and even oysters—they’re an aphrodisiac, you know, and sometimes, well, with the kids and all, a little extra help is nice.” Her hand flew through the air. “And anyway, guess what happened? Jack was so exhausted, he fell asleep while I was clearing the table. And just as I was getting my second wind! C’est la vie,” she said with a comical grin. And then she turned her full attention to Sam. “All right, now tell me about you. You’re not here on business, Sam, are you?” Her eyes beseeched him to say no.
Sam laughed, and Lily went on, “Tell me that you and Maddie are—”
Maddie broke in quickly. “Lily, I think what you need is Jack. He’d love it if you went home and woke him up in one of your artful ways. Do you want some tea before you leave?”
Lily ignored her. She leaned forward, scrutinizing Sam’s face. “Now I remember who you are. Sam. The beach house.” She frowned. “You are not what I imagined, Sam-of-the-beach-house.”
Sam settled back in the couch, his hands folded behind his head, a half smile on his lips. “And what was that, Lily-of-next-door?”
Lily laughed. “Good. A sense of humor. That’s important.”
“Important for what?” Sam asked.
“For courting my dear friend, Maddie.”
“Lily! Sam is—”
“—far more handsome than you admitted, Maddie, but I knew you were hiding something.”
Maddie shook her head, then said to Sam, “Lily’s shy.”
“And charming,” Sam said.
Lily leaned forward and patted his knee. “I knew from everything Maddie didn’t say that I would like you, Sam Eastland.”
Sam matched her serious tone. “And I can tell I like you, Lily.”
Maddie watched the exchange. It amused and surprised her. The sophisticated Sam Eastland and Lily, who had probably finished the bottle of wine when Jack fell asleep on her and would no doubt blurt out anything that popped into her head.
“Maddie is a fine, fine person, Sam,” Lily said, nodding as she spoke.
“Lily, quiet already. Sam doesn’t need personal references. I already got the job.”
“Go on, Lily,” Sam said. “This information might come in handy someday, who knows?”
“That’s what I always say, Sam. Be prepared.” Lily laughed again, a deep belly laugh that pulled both Maddie and Sam into it. And then she went on, her eyes glued to Sam’s face, “I’ve known Maddie for almost five years. She practically delivered my twins—and let me tell you, she’s top drawer and don’t you forget it.”
Sam held up one hand. “You have my word, Lily. I won’t forget.”
“I know you won’t.” Lily’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “And I know you’d like me to stay longer, but really, I can’t.” She closed her eyes, shook her head, and pushed her hands out in front of her. “No, no, don’t protest. I must go. If Jack wakes up without the cold soles of my feet against his wonderful hairy legs, he’ll worry.”
Sam stood as Lily pushed herself out of the chair.
She grinned at him. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sam. You come
back anytime.”
“Funny, I thought this was my house,” Maddie said.
“Of course it is,” Lily said sweetly. Then to Sam: “And you can come to my house too. Come meet Jack and my munchkins. They’re the cat’s meow. Come anytime.”
“Thanks, Lily,” Sam said, and took her elbow. “May I help you home?”
“A gentleman,” Lily said to Maddie, and winked.
Maddie groaned and held open the front door for Sam and Lily to pass through.
“Oh, lordy,” Maddie murmured.
“I can’t see a thing,” Lily said. “I think I’m blind.”
“Damn,” Sam muttered.
Spread out in front of them, as thick and murky as a sea of oatmeal, were billows of gray-black fog. Maddie peered into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything. Not streetlights, or house lights, or moonlight.
Nothing but dense, oppressive, travel-restricting fog.
FIVE
It took only a few minutes to weave blindly through the fog and get Lily safely home. When they returned, Maddie and Sam stood silently on the porch and stared into the gray nothingness.
“You’ll have to spend the night, that’s all,” Maddie said finally. “You can’t drive in this.” In the distance a foghorn bleated out its mournful warning.
“No,” Sam said. He pressed his palms against the railing and leaned forward. “It’s okay. I’ll go to the beach house.”
“That’s silly. It’s three miles away on a winding, dark road.”
Sam was silent, his eyes trying to penetrate the fog.
“Don’t worry,” Maddie said, her voice lifting. “You’re safe here, Sam. I won’t try to seduce you.” Her attempt at levity fell flat. Instead of the deep-throated laugh she waited for, Sam set his jaw, his blue eyes deepening.
It was bad enough having Eleanor conspiring against him; now nature herself was pitching in with curveballs. Sam wasn’t at all sure the neat white house was big enough for both of them. “This is the damnedest situation,” he said, a little too gruffly.
Moonlight on Monterey Bay Page 6