He stopped laughing and tore his attention away from Amelia, who’d been regaling them over some past rehearsal foible. Bending to Megan, he slipped his arm around her waist, and the heat of it made Megan want to drag him into the parlor and pull herself into his body and sob like a wretched wife.
“Can we talk somewhere?”
He didn’t hesitate or frown, he didn’t accuse her of being melodramatic or a downer or any of the things that she probably was. His face turned soft, and he tugged her away and out onto the back porch. It was better than the parlor in terms of scenery. In every aspect, probably.
Megan headed straight for the outdoor love seat with big, forgiving red cushions, and he followed, his hand in hers like they were teenagers escaping a party to have a private moment.
Except for the teenagers part, that’s just what they were, really.
“I’m sorry,” she stopped at the sofa. “I can go bring you a coffee or something?”
“No, no. Let’s talk. Talk first, coffee second.” He sat, never letting go of her hand and pulling her down next to him.
Megan laughed lightly. “Whatever happened to coffee first, talk second?”
Brian’s eyes searched hers as he ignored her joke and landed squarely on whatever he saw deeper inside of her, the doubt and the worry, obviously. “You don’t want to live here?”
When he put it like that, contextualized it for her, it rang false. She shook her head and looked away out to the lake. Shrieks from a group of kids splashing in the surf caught her attention.
Unsure how to test the waters of her fear, she changed the conversation, jutting her chin across the yard. “If she were still around, Nora would be charging out there and screaming at them.”
“At the kids?” Brian asked.
Megan glanced back. He’d followed her gaze then returned his eyes to hers, still searching. Always searching lately. That whole weekend it seemed like every time she locked eyes with her husband, he was looking for something in her.
“Yes,” Megan answered. “That whole area of beach is technically private.”
“I thought no beach was private. Aren’t they all just naturally public? I mean, that’s like saying someone owns the water, too.”
Shaking her head, she replied, “No, there are such things as private beaches. Hard to enforce. Hard to nail down. Nora was always fighting. It’s like she was afraid of it. The beach, I mean, and what might happen. It wasn’t territorial or anything. It was this obsessive, ongoing fear.” She hesitated, a memory flicking to life like a tired Zippo lighter. “Yeah. I think she was afraid.”
“What do you mean?”
Megan let out a sigh before entering the world of her past. “Before Dad left, they loved throwing parties together. Every single holiday they had some kind of party and if the weather was good enough, you can bet it was a beach party.”
Images swirled in Megan’s brain. Even at New Years, when the air was frigid and the ground frost-bitten, there would be adults swaying out into the backyard, pots and pans clanging in their hands above Megan and Amelia, who would squeal in the fun of it. The late night. The big people. Living in the heart of that was thrilling.
Her face fell. “One Fourth of July, after the party, Dad left.”
“Wait, was this—” Brian started to ask.
Megan cut him off at the pass. “No. A different summer. Years before. I was almost too young to remember. But I do.” She scrunched her face, dragging the memories with all her might. “Everyone was gone. Except us. Mom—Nora,” Megan corrected herself, “was frantic. She was like, wigging out. ‘Where’s Wendell? Where’s your father? Did you see him? Did he leave?’ She was begging us for information as if we knew. But we didn’t.”
Brian’s grip on her hand tightened.
She went on, pointing to the water. “At one point, she ran out to the beach. I can remember that part very clearly.” Megan’s face softened like she was watching it now. Nora holding her gauzy shawl around her body, running awkwardly as mothers seem to, her feet kicking up sand with every divot until she was knee deep in the water screaming for him.
“Then,” Megan returned her gaze to Brian, “he just, reappeared. At the back door.”
Where have you been! Nora had screamed.
“Where was he?” Brian asked now, watching her intently. Suspiciously, even.
I thought you drowned! Nora had screamed, but that time, her scream was lighter. Happier. Tipsy and silly and they hugged and kissed in full view of the girls, none of whom thought they would ever recover from such a scare until they saw that kiss and knew it was safe to laugh too. To keep playing.
I thought you left us! Nora had cried out again, once the kissing was done, and the five of them shuffled back up the porch and inside, to bed.
I would never, Wendell had reassured all of his girls, patting each on the head and scooting them upstairs.
That night, Megan had slept well. She’d slept safely, knowing her parents were there. That they loved each other. That even though life could be hard in the house on the harbor where they were constantly fixing things and working on things and getting yelled at for playing too close to the water… she was safe. They were all safe.
Even if they were scared. The thing was, Megan had never put together what there was to fear. Was it losing Wendell? Was it the lake? Was it the threat of someone coming and taking something from them? The house on the harbor? The beach? She’d been stumped all through the years.
Megan glanced at their hands then back up. “He was going to the bathroom.”
A small chuckle spilled out from Megan, and Brian laughed, too. “The bathroom? Didn’t any of you check there?”
She shrugged. “Nora just jumped to the conclusion that something awful had happened. Like she was just waiting for something awful to happen. She lived like that. In fear, I think. Survival mode.”
Brian’s face hardened. “Well, we don’t have to.”
“What do you mean?” Megan answered, doing her best to shake the memory. The memory that should have turned into one of those funny stories that Amelia pulled out of her back pocket like a party trick. But when bad things actually did happen in your family, all those funny stories stayed stored.
“I mean we don’t have to live in fear. We can stay here; we can take the risks we’ve decided to take. We can make this work.”
Megan frowned. “You want to stay in Birch Harbor? You like it here?” It occurred to her just then that where Brian might want to live hadn’t even been on her mind. Up to that point, she’d simply assumed he’d keep his townhome as long as he could no matter what happened. He’d break his promise and things would fall apart again because maybe he didn’t want to be with her. Up to that point, Megan figured he was outside of their family, still.
But he wasn’t. He was there, inside with her. They were still a unit. They were still one.
“I want to stay where you are,” he answered softly. “And yes, I like Birch Harbor. I’ve always gotten along with your family, and now that Amelia has a decent boyfriend and Kate is, well, happy… it feels easy. It feels right.”
“What about the applications? Your job interviews?” she asked.
Brian didn’t glance away. He didn’t push a hand through his hair and mutter. He held her gaze. “I work in tech, remember? I’ll get something that allows me to work from home. Just like the last one. I’m not worried, Megan. I’m not scared. I’m… I’m excited.” A floppy grin splayed across his mouth.
It was everything she needed to hear. That he wanted to be with her. At the lake. And that he wasn’t worried. He was not scared.
Even though Megan still was. She was still worried that the council would block her dream and that she’d never do the thing she’d always wanted to do… But all of that mattered less when she had the security of a strong marriage. Or, at least, a marriage that was growing stronger by the day.
“Thanks,” she whispered, smiling at him and leaning into his chest as
he wrapped his arms around her, a warm, tight hug that she could live in.
“Megan?” Brian asked.
She swallowed. His tone shifted.
Leaning back as he released her from his hold, she simply blinked in response, waiting.
Then, she saw it. In his face and his mouth. His now trembling lips and his tensing jaw. The same pattern of quirks that coalesced on his face when they were in the middle of a heated argument that neither one wanted to have.
“Brian,” she answered, her voice hardening with each syllable.
He returned his hands to her shoulders, looked so far into her eyes that she no longer saw the trembling lips or the twitching jaw. All she could see was the last twenty years. The house in the suburbs. The arguments. The makeup nights. The mean looks and soft apologies. She saw Sarah. She saw herself.
He closed his eyes briefly, and it all went away, and when he opened them again, she saw the present. And at the exact same time with the exact same rhythm, Brian and Megan said to each other something they hadn’t said in a very long time. Not with any truth. Not with any meaning.
The best three words in the English language. The words that Megan clung to in her hopes and dreams. The words that drove her interest in becoming a real matchmaker, a person who brings two people together.
I love you.
And maybe more than ever… they meant it.
21
Kate
Michael had secured an appointment with Van Holt’s office for Monday afternoon.
Once Kate was in the loop on how the Birch Harbor Town Council had denied Megan’s request for a permit, she morphed into a full-blown Mama Bear.
“I’m going with you,” she told Megan, crossing her arms as she stood in the doorway of her room upstairs in the Inn.
Megan had come for breakfast after Brian left to break his lease agreement. Things were moving fast between Megan and Brian, and Kate wasn’t about to let her little sister mess anything up again. Or, rather, she wasn’t about to let the busybody cronies who made up a hodge-podge of a council mess anything up. Kate knew the stakes.
Her little sister was now begging Kate to stay out of it and let her handle everything. “Michael is coming with me. We don’t need you, Kate. It’ll look bad.”
“What do you mean it will look bad? They approved my business request, right? We can leverage that,” she reasoned, pushing past Megan and downstairs to grab her purse.
“I think it could complicate things,” Megan added, rushing down after. “Too many cooks in the kitchen. We can handle it, Kate.”
Kate turned at the door, her car keys in hand. The Inn was totally vacant until Wednesday. She’d already started the wash and cleaned the upstairs baths and downstairs bath. She could use a break. And Megan could use a hand. “Okay,” she conceded. “I won’t go in. But at least let me drive you there. Then, if you need me, I’ll be right outside.”
Megan stopped at the bottom step and pressed her hands together. “Thank you,” she answered. “But we’ll take my car.”
They rode together in silence, Kate mentally ticking off items on her to-do list. When they had ordered food and drinks for Megan’s matchmaking gala, Kate decided to hold off on her own preparations, but now they were cutting it close.
She needed to get a handle on how many people to expect. Partly, she’d been waiting to see if Megan’s RSVP list hit the target number. If so, Kate would assume all of those guests would also come for the beach party.
Yes, beach party.
Of all things, the Inn-Warming had turned into a foppish beach party.
It was Amelia’s idea, ever the sand-lover. She had said there was no point in hosting a party on the lake if you were going to bar everyone from walking to the beach.
Kate worried about liabilities. At that, Amelia simply pushed Michael onto the case. He told Kate that anyone could sue anyone for anything, but if she wanted to protect herself financially, she already had. When she formed her LLC for the Heirloom Inn, she was well enough set. One extra provision she could take, however, was to ask partygoers to sign a disclaimer. Plus, she could hire lifeguards if she was that worried.
Maybe she was. It all came down to how many would show up. And if she and Megan really were coordinating their efforts, and if Kate really intended to keep her party as an exclusive event, then, well, she had to know whether Megan was moving forward with the matchmaking gala. Anyway, Kate hoped she would. It was Megan’s dream, after all.
Once they arrived outside the little dated building inland of Harbor Ave, a pang of guilt shot through Kate. Birch Harbor Town Hall could use a makeover. An overhaul. Then again, if they continued to cavort about the harbor like lords and ladies of the lake, it was safe to assume no voter would ever support tax dollars to go to that cause.
The council members needed a makeover before the building would get one.
That’s when a lightbulb clicked. “Megan,” she hissed, as Megan prepared to jump out.
“What?”
“Remember, you’ve got to play to their interests. How can your business benefit the town?”
“Tax revenue,” Megan answered simply, grabbing her handbag.
Kate shook her finger. “Don’t forget that. It brings in tourism and it provides a service to locals. It doesn’t have to be seasonal, either. You, alone, could improve town infrastructure, town offices, and all that. Keep that in your pocket, okay? Don’t let it get emotional. Don’t mention Mom. Keep it about the business.”
Megan nodded impatiently as she secured her purse strap and looked over to the building. Kate’s eyes floated down the length of her little sister, taking in her red blouse (power color! Kate had said when she shoved the silk garment at Megan just half an hour earlier). Beneath it, crisp white, knee-length shorts gave way to tan wedges. “Megan, wait,” Kate said.
“What? Quick!”
“Something’s missing.” Kate searched Megan but couldn’t pin it down.
“I have five minutes, Kate.” Megan whined as she smoothed her shirt and glanced toward the building again. As her hands moved down to the hem of the blouse, Kate caught them.
“Your fingernails.” Kate pointed.
“My what?” Megan held her hands in front of her face, alarmed.
“You don’t have your black polish on!” Kate’s voice was loud. A little frantic.
“Kate.” Megan rolled her eyes, but they landed back on her uncharacteristically bare nails.
Kate reached for her purse. She could have sworn she had a deep burgundy in there, but as her hand crossed the console, she glanced down and saw a bottle of black. “You have one right here!” she screamed, laughing as she grabbed it and passed it to Megan who, in spite of herself, grinned, took it and started applying quick even strokes.
In moments, she was done and fanning her nails. “You’re crazy,” Megan said, blowing on her hands in between the quick batting.
“No.” Kate shook her head. “I just know who you’re about to deal with.”
Megan’s smile left her and she nodded somberly.
“Plus,” Kate went on, “you were never meant for red nails. Matchmaking or not. You’ve got that brooding thing going on. It might work to your advantage. Add a little gravitas to your plea, a little somberness.” She paused, then added, “And it’s who you are. You’ve got to be yourself. Above everything. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Smiling once again, Megan left, and Kate sat, biting her own bare nails now, watching for any motion behind the tacky white blinds.
Michael’s truck was already there, so she predicted that as soon as Megan stepped a foot inside, clutching the handle with care as to not smudge her parking lot manicure, she’d run into him.
Kate learned a lot about Michael that summer. How smart he was. How much he came to care for Amelia and, by extension, her family. She learned that he was a good man to have in these circumstances, and she trusted him to guide Megan.
Still, though, if they hadn’t re-em
erged within twenty minutes, Kate was going in. Smart lawyer or no smart lawyer.
It was her sister in there, after all. Her sister and a pack of wolves. And Kate wouldn’t settle for a loss. She wouldn’t let Megan settle either. So, she set the timer on her phone, leaned back, and kept her eyes on those white blinds.
22
Amelia
Michael had told her not to come to the meeting with the mayor. It was best to keep things professional and on the up-and-up.
Still, it was impossible to sit around and wait. Amelia knew how badly Megan wanted Hannigan Field to blossom into a breeding ground for love. What was more, Amelia knew how awful small-town politics could be.
The minute she and Michael began cracking into Wendell Acton’s disappearance, the ugly side of Birch Harbor reared its head. To be fair, it wasn’t as bad as some locales. On her trek through America to find the perfect role, Amelia had done a few stints in much more corrupt, much darker communities, some small and some big. Those ones all had one thing in common: unmitigated greed.
Greed was less at stake in Birch Harbor. So much so, in fact, that the mayor and his council members were entirely comfortable with turning away new revenue streams.
At stake in Birch Harbor was something quirkier. Old fashioned, even.
Something so preciously small town that it sounded like it could be a plot line out of one of Megan’s reality shows or Nora’s old soaps.
What was that one thing that could bring Birch Harbor to its knees?
It had a reputation to uphold.
And in that way, in fact, the powers that be in the little lakeside town were a tad nefarious. They always had been, ever since the early days. The council members and the mayor didn’t try to be evil, but everyone is a little bad. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has needs, and in the case of Birch Harbor, those needs came together at the local government level in an effort to maintain the image of an idyllic summer tourist trap. A pretty little township with happy-go-lucky residents. A safe place to live and visit.
Fireflies in the Field Page 13