Clara ignored the pandering question and turned her attention to Megan. “What about Sarah? What if she tells?” Megan may be the teenager’s mother, but Clara knew young women better.
Megan reached for her iced tea and shrugged. “We don’t have to worry about Sarah. She is sort of over it, anyway.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Clara’s eyes. She willed herself not to care either.
Her sisters moved back into their conversation, commenting mildly about bikinis these days and See, Megan? Summer is full of business opportunities.
It occurred to Clara that, actually, it was better to keep the secret. If the whole town was in the dark, then she wouldn’t have to be Matt Fiorillo’s long-lost daughter.
And the best thing about that was that she would never have to be Viviana Fiorillo’s long-lost sister.
9
Amelia
“Welcome home, you two.” Amelia lifted her coffee mug over the kitchen table in Megan and Brian’s new unit at The Bungalows. It was meant to be an early morning toast. Michael had joined them on that Saturday morning, at Amelia’s behest. It was always a good idea to have an outsider at family events.
As their mother often said, If you bring a stranger, then everyone has to behave.
So far, the advice was working. Brian stood by the bar, one hand shoved into one pocket, the other thumbing along his phone screen. Megan set out coffees. Amelia and Michael brought the bagels.
It was day one: which Amelia had taken to calling The Re-Merging. Sarah had stolen away to help Kate at the Inn. They had an influx of check-ins the night before and someone had to help with pancakes.
Kate had offered up Matt to come by and move any furniture, but no heavy lifting was required. Brian’s townhome, which he still had three weeks in, had come furnished. Their shared marital furniture and everything else from the house they were selling was now neatly tucked away in a storage unit in some desolate neighborhood outside of Detroit. Plus, Clara had left behind her apartment furniture when she moved to the cottage. So, the only excitement on that warm, dewy morning was to help the two decide who was sleeping where, where their wardrobes would go, if Brian was going to be a weekend warrior or a full-timer.
Amelia shivered against the chill of the window AC unit. In her heart of hearts, Amelia loved Brian like a brother. All of the sisters did. And here they were, the perfect opportunity to bond the two menfolk, establish some common ground, but Megan had yet to make eye contact with her husband, and Brian was replying to their questions and prompts with one-word answers.
At Amelia’s toast, Megan lifted her mug and smiled weakly. Michael raised his. Brian, thankfully, snapped to attention, clicked his phone off, shoved it in his pocket and dragged his mug to the table, settling in the open seat next to his wife.
Amelia sighed with relief when Brian raised his mug and let his face soften. “To new beginnings,” he added.
It was painful. The tension. The effort. But it was a start. Amelia grinned at him and clinked mugs before lifting a brow at Megan.
“So,” Michael interjected once they started in on the bagels, slowly making their way through the cardboard takeout jug of coffee. Megan had gone out to pick it up when she realized they had none. The Birch Bean Company, the best coffee you could find on Lake Huron. “Brian,” he went on.
Amelia sucked in a breath, excitement slicing through her trepidation. The anticipation of everything launched her on a rollercoaster. There was her sister and her brother-in-law, in battle gear against the monster that was divorce. Now, they sat within two feet of each other, sharing coffee from the same jug, dancing through the awkwardness of a very real and very raw reunion. Amelia felt at once like an actress in a great one-act and a director of an epic drama.
Brian looked up, chewing through a particularly oversized bite of an everything bagel. “Mhm?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Megan tells us you might be a startup guy. App development? Something like that?”
Brian swallowed the bite and dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin. “That’s the dream,” he replied easily, stealing a fast look at Megan who was busying herself with plucking crumbs from the space around her plate.
“And I guess Megan wants to start a business, too?” Michael pressed on.
Amelia paled. That part was a secret. Not even a secret, actually, it was a rumor. Something Kate mentioned in a sisterly gossip session after the group dinner out at the lighthouse. Megan was toying with a small-town business. Something to serve tourists and townies alike. It made Amelia itchy to think about. First there was Kate, with the bed-and-breakfast. The Heirloom Inn was doing well enough, since all Birch Harbor had in the way of accommodations was either the motel inland or a smattering of overpriced, under-cleaned vacation rentals. Second, there was Amelia herself, with the museum idea. Pretty soon, people were going to take notice. Amelia could see the headlines in the small-town paper. In the wake of Nora Hannigan’s death, her daughters move back to the lake and take over!
Slicing her hand across her throat toward Michael, Amelia gave him a look, too. But the gestures were lost. He was too aloof. Hopefully, Brian was, too.
But Megan wasn’t. “No,” she answered. “Where did you hear that?” She eyed Amelia, who shrugged and shrank back behind her coffee mug.
Michael waved a helpless hand then saw his girlfriend cowering and snapped his mouth shut. After a beat, he answered quietly, “Maybe I misheard?” and joined Amelia in the retreat.
Megan glared at Amelia, but then she surprised them. “Well, actually, it was something I was kicking around. Not really a business, though. More like…” she glanced down at the table and pinched another crumb before her lips turned up at the edges. “A service.”
Leaning in, Amelia had to look closer. Was Megan… blushing? The woman who wore only one color of nail polish? Who relied on black athleisure ensembles and asked her hairdresser for a severe A-line?
Amelia grinned. “A service? What service?” She glanced around the table, taking in Michael’s expression, clueless but interested. Then Brian’s, which she could only describe as alarmed. A good alarmed, though. A captivated alarmed.
“Yeah.” Megan lifted her gaze and suddenly, Amelia was no longer the director. Or even an actress. She was in the audience. She and Michael both were.
What happened next was nothing short of inspiring.
Megan launched into an enthusiastic description of her dream come true. She even used that phrase: dream come true.
Something about seasonal mixers and tourists and locals and matchmaking all set inland on the Hannigan Field. White summery tents and lemonade. Hors d'oeuvres and three-piece jazz bands, or perhaps just a DJ.
The picture Megan painted was magical, but that’s not what stunned Amelia into reverent silence.
It was that Megan only looked at Brian as she explained it all. Not once did she throw a side glance to Amelia. Not once did she break away to watch Michael’s reaction. She kept her gaze unflinchingly on him. Like a challenge.
And it was that Brian, when Megan had wrapped up her dream come true, had reached across the table and found his wife’s hand, squeezing it.
That’s when Amelia knew that there would be no retreating to the townhome. No invitations for strangers to help keep the peace.
And it’s when Amelia and Michael gently and giddily excused themselves.
Megan and Brian had, right in front of their faces, relit their candle. Through the so-called new beginning. The fresh start. The blank slate. Over boxed coffee and bagels and on the heels of a frigid undercurrent… the flame came in flashes, like a lightning bug. Quiet and invisible to others until boom, it buzzed to life, a miniature fire for all to see.
And Amelia knew that whatever her sister’s dream come true was, exactly, she was going to be darn good at it.
10
Kate
“Let me get this straight.” Kate pushed her fingertips into her temples. To her left stood
Brian and Michael, their arms crossed over their chests like bodyguards. Across from her, seated at the farmhouse table in the kitchen of the Inn, sat Megan and Amelia, like children laying out their request for a pet, complete with an upkeep schedule and empty promises. “You were really serious?”
The question was directed at Megan, but both Megan and Amelia nodded their heads vigorously.
Clara sauntered into the room just then. She and Sarah had served breakfast on the back deck instead of in the parlor that morning. It was meant to be a dry-run for Labor Day weekend and the Inn-Warming Party. Sarah, in all likelihood, had meandered her way down to the beach. It seemed like at every turn, her new posse of local friends were waiting for her somewhere. As if she, this newcomer from the suburbs, had suddenly become Birch High Prom Queen.
Megan, Amelia, and Brian had crashed the rehearsal, though.
“And you’re, what? Asking my permission?”
“No,” Megan replied urgently. “We’re telling you our plan. And asking for your help.”
“I’ll help. Sure, I’ll help. But, I mean, how? I don’t know the first thing about matchmaking. And I thought Amelia was busy.” She frowned, not quite relishing her role as the perennial mother figure to her younger sisters.
“Labor Day weekend. That’s when we will host our first mixer. The theme is ‘Summer Lovin’.’”
“Like Grease,” Amelia added.
Kate frowned. “It sounds like a teenie-bop thing. Not an adult mixer. I don’t understand, Megan, I thought you were going to host, like, events. Like weddings and all that.”
“Well, that’s true. And I will. But it’s going to be even bigger. It’s going to be a boutique matchmaking service, sort of on the sly.”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t understand. On the sly? What does that mean?”
“I want the business to be based on finding a match. So, I’m going to set it around the premise of,” Megan framed her hands out across an invisible billboard, “Single and Ready to Mingle.” Her eyes glimmered with enthusiasm, and that coupled with Brian’s mere presence snapped Kate out of her skepticism. She nodded slowly, taking it all in.
“So, your business is matchmaking,” Kate began, wrapping her head around it, “and you’ll host matchmaking events.”
“And weddings,” Amelia added.
Nodding again, Kate looked back toward the men. “Summer Love.” She returned her attention to Megan. “Single and Ready to Mingle. ‘Summer Lovin’.’ A mixer.”
Megan prodded her along by cycling her hand. “If we have it Labor Day, then we can draw in visitors and sort of, I don’t know, pair them up with locals. Like you and I talked about!”
Clara eased into the open chair by the door, and Kate felt her eyes on her. A challenge. A test of the woman’s kindness. Of her warmth and generosity.
There was nothing Kate could say. Nothing she could do that wouldn’t squash Megan’s dreams. So, instead, she stepped outside of her role as mom and inside of her role as sister. The role she knew best. The one she was relegated to and now trapped in.
Because returning to Birch Harbor and living in her childhood home had changed where she thought Nora’s death would take them.
The truth, in all its newly revealed glory, was still dormant. There was no chance to be a grieving daughter. Or a small-town sister. No chance to be a lakeside innkeeper.
And there was most certainly no chance to be a scorned mother with a wounded heart and open arms. Now, it wasn’t just the tenuous fibers of their family that was at stake.
It was much more. It was the Hannigan tradition. It was a Birch Harbor reputation, forged decades back, when the house on the harbor was more than a family home. It was a settlement. A dare to the community, suggesting that there was more to the little Lake Huron community than budding storefronts and blossoming eateries. There would be more. There would be descendants. And pain. And the preservation of the past in the face of the reality of the present.
Kate Hannigan wasn’t Megan’s mother, there to bring her down to reality. She wasn’t Clara’s mother, either. She couldn’t be. Not if she wanted the focus to land squarely on the great success that these women could be.
She was their sister. Their equal.
And now, their business partner.
“Let’s do it,” Kate said. “A bed-and-breakfast. A museum. And, an event service.”
“Matchmaking service,” Megan added, smiling from ear to ear.
“Boutique matchmaking service,” Kate corrected.
Megan shot up from her seat and started across the table. Kate thought she was coming in for a hug, but just as Kate also rose up, Megan reached her arms out beyond her, to Brian.
Grinning at the surprising exchange, Kate looked at Clara first. Her smile fell a little, but she reached her hand across the table, and Clara accepted it. It was only in those moments when Matt wasn’t around that Clara and Kate shared the quiet moments she was so desperate for. The silent acknowledgements and small smiles.
Then, Amelia slapped her hand down on the table. “I’ve got it!” she declared, her voice vibrating with life. “We could form a corporation!”
“True,” Kate replied, squeezing and releasing Clara’s hand then gesturing toward her. “Clara could offer tutoring services or something, right?” The attempt to pull the youngest into the grand scheme was just an inch too far. One shade too bright.
Clara shrugged meekly. “I can just help here. I don’t mind. I’m so busy during the school year.”
“Clara will be our link to the younger set. She knows all the twenty-something lingo. Social media and stuff. Right, Clar?” Megan added.
Nodding in reply, Clara glanced at Kate, who stood from the table and rounded to her, standing behind Clara and squeezing her shoulders. “Clara can do whatever she wants. After all, she’s the only true local we’ve got on the team.”
At that, Kate knew she’d struck the right chord. Clara twisted and smiled up at her. “True. You’re practically tourists. All of you.”
They laughed together, a freshness glowing around the kitchen.
Amelia broke into the merriment with her earlier idea. “See? Let’s call ourselves an enterprise.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Michael added, mostly for effect. Kate suspected he knew it was a silly proposition.
Catching momentum, Amelia went on. “Hannigan Sisters Enterprises.”
Megan and Brian chattered animatedly, immediately agreeable, it seemed. And Kate liked the idea of a little corporation, but Clara’s muscles twitched beneath her palms. It wasn’t quite right.
It wasn’t quite true, but then the last thing that they needed now was to come under some other drama. Nora’s memory depended on the maintenance of her secret. Not the revelation of it.
If they were going to be successful in business, then Clara would have to stay the youngest sister.
11
Megan
Megan knew two things.
One, that all of her sisters believed in her marriage.
Two, that one sister did not believe in Summer Lovin’.
That hint of a lack of support niggled at her brain, pushing her to ask herself the same thing. Was this all a bad idea?
So, she stayed ahead of the curve, finding fault wherever she could. “I don’t like the name,” Megan declared that afternoon at the lighthouse. It was true, too. The name was bad.
She and Brian had visited Hannigan Field in order to take photographs and measurements. They quickly realized that whatever it was Megan was about to roll out would take far more work than she realized. Especially when Brian, in passing, mused aloud about building on the field. She’d scoffed, reminding him they had about one month to set up, organize, and advertise the inaugural event. And what would they build?
His reply was simple enough. “Our dream home.” She laughed at the idea when he suggested it, but now the prospect of a house and a business all in one location… with him… it was becoming a distract
ion.
“Hannigan Field?” Amelia asked between bites of watermelon.
Brian had agreed to help Michael mount a painting they’d come across in the cellar. The girls were left to brainstorm.
“Not that. I mean Summer Lovin’. First of all, what if we don’t get our act together by September? Then, it won’t be summer lovin’. And even if we do, it’s more like end-of-summer.”
“True,” Amelia allowed.
“But even if we do, it’s odd. I think it needs to be more… I don’t know. More… enchanting. Not so garish.”
“Garish.” Amelia nodded and gnawed into another chunk, humming to herself as she chewed.
“Oh, Am.” Megan dropped her wedge onto the plate and wiped her hands along a paper towel. “What am I thinking? How can we pull this off in weeks?”
“Well, I mean, what’s the rush? Do you have to open in the summer? You could always wait.”
“Until when?” Megan asked, mulling it over.
“Spring? You could go with Spring Fever.” Amelia smiled to herself. The smug smile of a woman with a house-and-business-in-one, and a new boyfriend, and several side gigs. After a lifetime chasing roles and just a summer of settling into her new world, Amelia was losing perspective. Turning content, or something.
“Spring?” Megan felt a throb creep up from her clenched jaw and settle beside either eye. “That’s months away. We’ll have blasted through our savings by then.”
“How?” Amelia asked. “What bills do you have?”
Megan rubbed beneath her eyebrows, massaging the hollow space and attempting to free herself of the growing headache. “The usual bills. I mean, we aren’t just going to mooch off you or Kate. We’ll have to pay rent for the bungalow. And Sarah is going to get sick of staying here. You’re probably already sick of her yourself. We need to buy something, you know. And then there are insurance payments. Food. I mean, come on. We can’t just not make money.”
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