Frieda pointed to a man by the rose bushes, just left of the patio. “There he is. He loves to smell the roses.”
Maggie stole a glance at Sophie. She looked a tad green under her tan. Maggie reached out and took her hand. Standing together, they watched as Zane and Frieda crossed the lawn toward Hugh.
“It’ll be all right. We can do this,” Maggie said.
“I’m suddenly scared,” Sophie said.
“Me too.”
“They’re all so old and sad,” Sophie whispered.
“I know. But they’re obviously well taken care of.” Maggie glanced around the room, taking in the patients. They were all clean with combed hair. One staff member sat with a stooped patient on the couch and rubbed lotion into his hands. Another painted a shriveled woman’s nails.
Zane had hold of Hugh’s arm as they made their way across the lawn. When they reached Maggie and Sophie, Zane asked Hugh if he wanted to sit in his favorite chair by the bookshelf.
“Is that my favorite?” Hugh asked. Same throaty voice. Same face, older but still handsome. He looked over at Maggie and Sophie. His eyes, the same color as Zane and Sophie’s, twinkled. For a split second, Maggie thought he remembered her. “And who are these lovely young ladies?”
“This is Maggie and Sophie.”
“What pretty friends you have.” Hugh looked over at Frieda. “Is this my son?”
“Yes, Mr. Shaw. This is Zane. He comes to see you twice a week.”
Hugh peered at Zane as if he were trying with all his might to remember. “Sure, yeah. My son. Good looking kid, like his old man.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Zane spoke under his breath to Maggie. “Sometimes he pretends like he knows me. Frieda says it’s a common reaction.”
“Come on, let’s get you settled. Frieda said you can have some lemonade,” Zane said.
“Lemonade. Good, yes. Wouldn’t want a beer in the middle of the afternoon. Isn’t that right?” Hugh allowed Zane to escort him over to his favorite chair. Maggie and Sophie, still clinging to each other, sat on the loveseat opposite. Frieda excused herself to fetch the drinks.
Hugh blinked as he gazed at Maggie. “Mae, you changed your hair. It looks nice.”
Maggie bit the inside of her lip. Mae? Did he think she was her mother? He must. She caught Zane’s eye.
“Dad, do you know who this is?” The hopeful tone in his voice broke Maggie’s heart.
“Sure. The prettiest lady in town. Mae Keene.”
“What do you remember about her?” Sophie asked.
Hugh blinked again. The alert expression in his eyes was gone, replaced by a vacant one. “I apologize, but I can’t place you, young lady. Are you related to me?”
“I’m your daughter. Mae was my mother.” Sophie pointed to her eyes. “See. We have the same eyes. Zane too.”
“Daughter? I have a daughter?” He looked over at Maggie. “Mae?”
Maggie would play along. Perhaps it would jog his memory—get him to tell them something. “I had a baby girl, Hugh. This is her. Sophie Grace.”
As Frieda brought the drinks, Hugh’s face went slack, all hint of understanding vanished. He turned to Zane. “Young man, remind me who you are again? Did you work for me at the restaurant?”
“I did. Dad, it’s Zane. I’m your son. I run the restaurant now.”
“I had a restaurant? Was I the owner?”
“For forty years, Dad. In Cliffside Bay. Do you remember?”
“I apologize, young man, but I can’t seem to place you. Did you work for me at the restaurant?”
Zane sighed and looked away. “That’s right.”
Maggie leaned closer to Hugh. “I’m Maggie. Mae Keene’s daughter. Do you remember her?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hugh said. “Love of my life, Mae Keene.” He closed his eyes. “She died. Broke my heart.”
“She had a baby, Dad. We found her. Sophie Grace.”
“It’s me,” Sophie said. “Zane and Maggie found me. I came to meet you.”
Hugh scrutinized her for a long moment, like a man trying to place an old friend. “Yes, Sophie Grace. Oh, gosh, yes. My baby girl.” His hand shook violently as he tried to set his glass of lemonade on the table, but it crashed to the floor. He clasped and unclasped his hands, clearly agitated.
Several staff members rushed over in an attempt to settle Hugh with soothing words. He didn’t look their way; his watery eyes fixed on Sophie.
“I’m sorry I had to let you go, but it was better,” Hugh said. “If Roger Keene knew you lived, he would’ve hurt you. I couldn’t take that risk.”
Sophie knelt next to his chair and laid her head on his knee. “I know. I’ve had a good life. I’m safe. You don’t need to worry any longer.”
Hugh placed his hand on the top of Sophie’s blond head. “You looked very pretty at your high school graduation. I was proud. You had the best speech.”
Sophie jerked upright. “You were there?”
“In the background, kid, but I was there. Lots of times, I was there.”
“Where else?” Sophie whispered. “What else did you see?”
Just as quickly as lucidity had come, it was gone. The blank look returned to Hugh’s eyes.
“He’s gone,” Zane said and cursed under his breath.
Sophie slid onto the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. “But he was there, Zane. He said so. Lots of times.”
Maggie, Zane, and Sophie sat under the shade of a maple tree in front of the memory care facility. After Frieda had taken an unsettled Hugh back to his room, they’d wandered outside. She didn’t know about the other two, but Maggie felt nauseated.
“I know you feel robbed,” Zane said. “But he loved you the best way he could.”
Sophie nodded. “I got him for a second, though, which is better than I hoped for. I could get him again. Maybe.”
“Sure,” Maggie said. “He still comes in and out, obviously.”
Sophie played with the tie at the waist of her skirt. “I’ve been thinking...I might stay awhile in Cliffside Bay. That way I could visit him as much as possible before he gets any worse.”
“You can stay with me,” Zane said. “As long as you want.”
“I could work at the restaurant for my keep,” Sophie said. “Waiting tables, washing dishes. Whatever you need.”
“It’s about time you learned the family business.” Zane smiled. “I’m thinking more along the lines of assistant manager. You can put that degree to good use. Maybe teach me a thing or two.”
Clearly, there is more to “nature” than “nurture.” What were the odds that their sister would want to be in the restaurant business?
“Really?” Sophie’s eyes were wide. “I promise I’ll work hard.”
“Technically, half the restaurant’s yours,” Zane said. “Anyway, it might be good for me to have a partner. I could actually have a life.”
“But it’s your baby. You’ve worked so hard to build it up to what it is,” Sophie said. “I don’t deserve to have it handed to me.”
“It’s not a handout. You’ll work hard, I promise. I’ve worked seven days a week since I took over the place, just like Dad did. I don’t want to end up alone like he has. Maybe I should concentrate on my personal life for a while.”
He didn’t say it, but Maggie hoped by personal life he meant Honor.
Chapter Twenty
Jackson
* * *
THE NEXT FRIDAY night, Jackson and Maggie shared the table closest to The Oar’s stage with Sophie’s parents. Zane already had Sophie behind the bar making and serving drinks. The place was packed with locals and tourists. Jackson knew why. They’d come to hear Maggie sing. It had only taken a month for word to spread about the girl with the voice of an angel.
Rhona set aside her menu and wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to have to talk to Zane about getting a few vegan dishes on this menu.”
“Good idea,” Jackson said. “And some gluten free choices too.”
Maggie laughed. “You two are a buzzkill. Here I was thinking of ordering a burger.”
“Oh, dear, no,” Rhona said. “Not a good idea. Not at all.”
“See what I have to live with?” Micky asked.
Rhona reached over and patted her husband’s flat stomach. “You should thank me every day for your hot body, darling.”
Micky winked at Jackson. “It’s better for men to marry early, so our wives can save us from ourselves.”
“Or, the other way around,” Maggie said.
Rhona turned her attention to Maggie. “Will you be returning to New York City soon?”
Maggie smiled over at Jackson. “No, I’m staying here.”
“What about your career?” Micky asked.
Maggie explained about her knee and subsequent decision to move out of New York City. “Even before I came home and learned the truth about everything, I knew a change was in order.”
“L.A., then?” Micky asked.
Maggie shook her head no. “I’m ready to retire from the business. It took twelve years of my life. I gave it my best shot, so I don’t have to ever wonder what if. I’m not sure exactly what I’ll do next, other than spend time with the people I love and sing here on the weekends.”
“She writes songs,” Jackson said.
“Really? Maggie, you didn’t tell me that,” Micky said.
“She’ll sing some for you tonight,” Jackson said.
“I will?” Maggie asked as she shot him a dirty look.
“She’s shy about them, but they’re really good,” Jackson said. “I could see her selling them to the Nashville types. Maybe you know of an agent she could pitch to?”
“Jackson, stop. You’re worse than a stage mom,” Maggie said.
“I’d be happy to take a look at them,” Micky said.
Jackson knew that look. Micky was only being polite. He must get a thousand appeals just like this one every month. But not everyone was Maggie. Not everyone could write great songs like his Maggie. And wait until he heard her sing.
“It must have been terribly hard to give up dancing,” Rhona said.
“I shed some tears,” Maggie said. “But I had to get back up and keep going. This is life, right?”
“I’m afraid so,” Rhona said. “But when one door closes, another opens.”
Maggie smiled at Jackson and his heart fluttered. “This is true.”
Rhona looked over at her husband. “You two remind me of us. We were high school sweethearts too.”
“Until she dumped me for a football player,” Micky said.
“That’s not how the story goes,” Rhona said. “We went away to college and lost touch. It wasn’t until I was back in town a few years after college that I ran into Micky at a bar.”
“Like most stories, they begin in a bar,” Micky said.
“It began in a high school cafeteria,” Rhona said. “Anyway, we started talking. It was like no time had passed.”
“Before we knew it, we’d closed the bar down,” Micky said. “And I knew right then and there—I was never letting this woman get away from me again.”
“I played a little hard to get. It’s best, you know, for women to do this, but I knew the minute I saw him sitting at the counter that night. It’s a thing—a chemistry between two people that one can’t describe. But if it’s there and it’s meant to be—you will find your way back to each other.”
“Even when one of you has to rise from the dead,” Maggie said, grinning.
“I keep telling her it’s not funny,” Jackson said.
“You know what I’ve always found?” Rhona asked. “One can either choose to be bitter from regret or grateful for another chance. Everything’s a choice. Choose happiness, I say.”
“I’m an anxious type of person,” Jackson said. “My mother used to tell me that the antidote to anxiety was gratitude.”
“I think I would’ve liked your mother,” Rhona said.
“I could see you two being great friends,” Maggie said. “She was a great mother, just like you.”
“She obviously did a fantastic job with this young man,” Rhona said.
Jackson grinned. “It took some pointed concentration on her part.”
Maggie had just finished her first set when Micky spoke quietly into Jackson’s ear. “How in the world is this girl not a singing star?”
“You tell me,” Jackson said. The last song of the first set was one of Maggie’s originals. “What did you think of her original songs?”
“I’ll tell you this. Normally, in a venue like this, cover songs are king. Without something they can recognize, most crowds’ attention will wander. Not so in this case.”
“That’s good, I’m assuming?” Jackson asked.
“It’s good, yes. How much original music does she have? Enough for an album?”
“She has enough for two albums, at the least. Although, she doesn’t think they’re all equally commercial.”
“Interesting.” Micky studied him. “What do you want, Jackson?”
“I’m sorry?”
“For your life—do you want a stay at home wife who raises your children? I won’t lie to you—that’s what I wanted. It sounds old-fashioned and it probably is. I would’ve backed down if Rhona hadn’t felt the same way. Luckily, she did. When we were finally able to adopt, she quit her job the minute Sophie was in her arms. But your Maggie, she’s a different type of woman. You understand that?”
“I’ve known her since she was a little girl, sir. So, yes, I do. Besides my friend Brody, she’s the most driven person I’ve ever met.”
“She’ll be bored without something creative to do,” Micky said. “I know the type.”
“You’re correct,” Jackson said.
“Are you worried you’ll lose her again if she pursues a career?”
Jackson scratched under the collar of his t-shirt. “Thankfully, I’m more evolved than I was at eighteen. I want what she wants. There’s no way I’m letting my insecurity get in her way.”
Maggie waved to them as she headed toward the restroom.
“You’re prepared to let her spread her wings?”
“Yes sir. What do you have in mind for her?”
“I don’t know if she told you, but I have my own independent label. I choose artists I like and I do things how I like. Not only do my artists have to be good, but they also can’t be divas or jackasses. I like singer/songwriter types.”
“Like Maggie?”
“That’s correct. I think I could make her a star. You think you can handle it?”
“It’s not up to me,” Jackson said. “What she wants is what I want.”
“She’ll be away for periods of time. On tour. Cutting albums. That kind of thing.”
“How can you be sure she’ll be a star?” Jackson asked.
“I know my stuff.”
“She might think you’re making the offer to make Sophie happy.”
“She’ll need to get over that and fast. Self-confidence is key,” Micky said.
“New York tore her down for a long time.”
“I have a partner. A young woman—tough as nails. Maggie will have to get past her, but I don’t see that as a problem.”
“Not if she has ears,” Jackson said.
Jackson opened the kitchen door to let Honor inside. “Thanks for coming.”
“What’s up?” Honor asked.
“I have an idea. Something I want to do for Maggie. You said to go big, right? A Brody Mullen type of romantic gesture?”
“I did, yes.” Honor sat at the island. “Are we talking the proposal night?”
“Sort of. I want to throw Maggie a prom. We didn’t go to ours because my mom died.”
“A prom? Doctor Waller, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Then, afterward, I’ll take her down to the beach and propose,” he said.
“No. Propose first, then bring her to the prom. That way, you can have an engagement party r
ight then and there.” Honor’s eyes sparkled. “Leave it all to me.”
“I want to throw it at The Oar in two days.”
“Two days? You don’t mess around,” she said.
“You’ll have to work with Zane.”
She narrowed her eyes but didn’t comment.
“Zane said we could close the place for the night,” Jackson said. “I want to decorate it and everything with the theme we had for our Senior Prom.”
Honor tossed her hair behind one shoulder. “Do you even remember what it was?”
“Yes. I was on the committee that planned it. Maggie and I both were.”
“Of course, you were.” Honor rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you two are such goodie-two-shoes.”
He ignored her. “The theme was Night of a Thousand Stars,” he said. “Maggie thought of it.”
“And then you didn’t get to go?” Honor asked, all hints of teasing gone from her expression. “That’s so sad.”
He explained how his mother had died unexpectedly that morning. “Even though my mom had made me promise to take her to the prom, no matter what, Maggie wouldn’t go. We were not in any shape to go, either one of us.”
“It’s about time you kept your promise, then,” Honor said.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Who do you want to invite?”
He grabbed the list he’d made from the desk in the corner. “Here.”
“Awesome. All the gang,” she said.
“The decorations were stars made out of tin foil and hung from the ceiling.” He paused, remembering what the high school gym had looked like that morning. “And the tables were covered in shiny silver too, but everything else was purple. Dark purple like the sky on a summer night.”
Honor was making notes on the list he’d given her. “Silver and purple. What about refreshments?”
“That’s the beauty of a prom for grownups. We can have real drinks.”
“We should have Zane make a special punch,” she said. “Should we do bite-sized appetizers and have the staff pass them around during the party?”
“Sure. Whatever you think. It has to be classy, though. Maggie’s kind of classy.”
Deleted Page 22