A deal based on fraud, one little voice in her head chided while another recognized that the terms had been more than equitable. No one else would have given her the kind of loan that Owen had provided. He’d been her white knight all along, but she had never imagined that she’d have to sacrifice something way more precious than the properties or the family homes she was bound to lose if things didn’t work out.
She’d given him her heart, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d ever get it back. Or even if she wanted it back, she finally acknowledged. The last two weeks without him had been nearly unbearable. She missed his subtle humor and the way she could talk to him about virtually anything. She missed sleeping beside him and waking up to his dimpled grin in the morning, and she’d be a total liar if she said she didn’t miss making love with him.
She did. A lot.
He touched her as no one else ever had and maybe ever could.
His last call to her had been so different from his earlier ones pleading for forgiveness. Asking her to reconsider. Unlike his earlier voicemail messages, she’d kept this one and had listened to it more than once in the last couple of days. Almost absentmindedly, she reached for her phone and, with a few swipes, replayed Owen’s message.
“Good morning, Maggie. I miss waking up and saying that to you. Opening my eyes to see you beside me was always one of the best parts of the day for me.”
He’d paused then, and she understood. What followed his morning greeting had always been way too amazing for words.
“Work was tough yesterday. I had all kinds of craziness going on, and I couldn’t wait to get home, only my place doesn’t feel like home. It never did. Nothing without you could ever really feel like home.”
Damn it, she thought as tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them spill down the sides of her face.
“I know you’re still angry, and I get it. I deserve that anger and more. What I did was unforgiveable, and yet, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Have a good night, Maggie. I know my night will be filled with dreams of you.”
Just like her nights had been filled with dreams of him, but despite that, she wasn’t sure that forgiving him was the right thing to do. But forgetting him was impossible. It was like he’d woven himself into her DNA and being without him made her feel incomplete. If that’s what love did to you, maybe Emma was right not to believe in falling in love. Who would willingly make themselves so vulnerable? So needy?
But as she placed the phone back on her nightstand, she hesitated and replayed the voicemail message again. She told herself that if she listened to it enough, she could drive him from her thoughts and her heart.
As sleep claimed her, she heard, “Have a good night, Maggie.”
And in her dreams, she did.
Chapter 35
Jonathan hadn’t pushed him to discuss Maggie when he’d arrived on Thursday night.
His brother had another fabulous steak dinner ready, and the two of them had eaten and then gone out to the lawn to share more than a few beers, a stiff shot of bourbon, and a cigar in companionable silence around the fire pit.
Jonathan had woken him early the next day, since the waves were picking up thanks to a tropical depression near Florida and it promised to be a good surfing day. They’d hit the surf for most of the morning, riding in set after set of four- to five-foot waves. Afterward, they’d showered, dressed, and headed out for a quick lunch.
The pub on the farthest edge of Sea Kiss was a place known more as a weekend watering hole for tourists and locals alike. During daylight hours, it provided oversize sandwiches better suited to hungry laborers. The pub also offered a nice assortment of draft and bottled beers. No matter the time or day, summer season or not, the place always had the faint aroma of spilled beer and the kind of mustiness that came from being in a building that was close to the water and at least a century old.
His father would never deign to eat in a place like this, but Jonathan and Owen had started coming in with some of the local surfers as teens. At first, they’d been the rich out-of-town Bennys to the “clam diggers” who’d been born and bred on the Shore, but little by little, they’d become accepted as locals.
Over steaming-hot Reubens and a cold pint of an amber ale from a local microbrewery, Jonathan broached the subject of Maggie.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do if she doesn’t forgive you?” he asked.
Because he didn’t have an answer, Owen shrugged, picked up his sandwich, and took a big bite. The rich flavors of the corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing teased his taste buds. He followed it up with a long swig of the hoppy ale.
At his delay in answering, Jonathan ate some of his sandwich, chewing on it thoughtfully before he said, “I know you’ve tried to explain to her, but I think words aren’t enough.”
Owen took another sip of his beer and eyed his brother over the rim of his glass. “You mean like flowers or something?”
His brother rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Flowers are for forgetting a date or a minor disagreement.”
“Jewelry?” he said, not that Maggie was into gold and diamonds. Except for her grandmother’s ring and the wedding band he’d gotten her, she favored simpler, less ornate pieces and rarely wore more than one at a time.
A bigger eye roll greeted his question. “I didn’t think you were this dense, Owen,” Jonathan said and drank a good portion of his own beer.
The comment stung a little, especially coming from his brother. “Says the man who hasn’t had a relationship that’s lasted more than a month unless you count your state of war with Connie as a relationship.”
A serious expression crossed Jonathan’s face, and he muttered, “Connie and me… It’s way complicated.”
Owen laughed. “Seriously, Bro? More complicated than what’s happening with me and Maggie?”
“Seriously,” Jonathan replied and motioned with his glass in Owen’s direction. “A long time ago, someone told me that the smallest of acts was better than the biggest of intentions.”
“A good sentiment, but what’s that got to do with the current situation?” he asked, leaning back in the booth and pushing away the plate with his half-eaten sandwich, since the conversation had killed his appetite.
“You want to make things right by her, but how will you make it right? What could you possibly do that would say to her that you really love her? That you never intended the marriage to be about the business deal you guys made. That you wanted it to be about the two of you.”
He shook his head and sipped his beer, pondering what his brother had said. Thinking about what he could do, although he’d already been prepared to do the one thing she said she wanted, namely, setting her free.
Jonathan leaned closer and peered at him intently. “You okay, Bro? You’re looking a little pale.”
Maybe because he couldn’t imagine giving her up, even though a part of him knew that might be what he needed to do. No small act at all but possibly the only right one. He jerked his head in the direction of the pub’s entrance. “Do you think we could go? I really need some time alone to think.”
“Sure, Bro,” Jonathan said and signaled the waiter for the check.
* * *
Connie had insisted that a few days in Sea Kiss with her, Tracy, and Emma was just what Maggie needed to relax a little and prepare herself for the meeting with Owen and his lawyer on Monday. But as they turned down the street for her Shore home, memories assailed her. There had been so much joy connected with the house, but now there was also the memory of her marriage, which brought nothing but sorrow, as did the thought of possibly losing the property.
“It’ll be all right,” Connie said and squeezed her hand gently, but as they slowly rolled past the Pierce home, Owen’s Lightning sitting in the drive warned that getting away from those memories would be harder tha
nks to his presence just yards away. As Jonathan’s Jeep pulled into the drive, Connie’s sharp curse confirmed her weekend might not be so easy either.
“Maybe we should go back to the city,” Maggie said.
Connie shook her head vehemently, sending the short caramel strands of her hair flying about. “No way. We cannot let them drive us away from something we both love. We’ll just have to ignore them.”
Which they tried to do as they exited their car at the same time as the two men hopped out of the Jeep. No greetings were exchanged. Only the slightest shift of Maggie’s glance in that direction confirmed their presence as they hurried inside.
Mrs. Patrick was immediately at the door, arms open to hug them both and offer her sympathies. “Now, now, my girls. Things will work out.”
Maggie buried her head against the old woman’s shoulder and barely contained her tears. She had already cried enough.
“I’ve made you a nice lunch. We can all sit and eat,” Mrs. Patrick said.
They dropped their overnight bags by the staircase and dutifully followed the housekeeper to the kitchen.
The table had been set for five, although they weren’t expecting Emma or Tracy until later. At her questioning glance, Mrs. Patrick said, “Emma rescheduled her afternoon appointment. She’ll be here in a few minutes, so we can all have lunch together. Tracy is driving in from Princeton. She should be here shortly as well. Won’t that be nice?”
It would, and Maggie was very grateful, since it wasn’t like Emma to upset a customer by canceling. As for Tracy, she had not only been busy with counseling and trying to rebuild her marriage, but also had decided to put her college degree to work at a nonprofit foundation that worked to improve schools in impoverished areas.
“It will be very nice,” she said and entered the kitchen. Because busy hands kept her brain from thinking too much about her current situation, she immediately went to work helping Mrs. Patrick plate the dainty finger sandwiches they’d be having.
Connie joined in as well, but as Maggie pulled some pickles from the jar, her friend’s face once again turned an off-colored green, and she excused herself.
“She’s feeling a little under the weather, is she?” Mrs. Patrick asked, her keen-eyed gaze on Connie’s back as she raced toward the bathroom.
“She’s been sick since Wednesday. Thinks maybe it’s something she ate.”
A disbelieving cough from the older woman had Maggie staring at her and then back toward where Connie had gone.
“You think it’s more?” she asked.
“I think you girls have been through a lot lately. I’m sure she’ll be feeling better in no time,” Mrs. Patrick said.
But Maggie was certain that the old woman was keeping something to herself. She focused on placing the sandwiches on the decorative tray, and when Connie returned a few minutes later, healthy color pinked her cheeks again, relieving Maggie of worry about her friend. By the time they finished prepping lunch half an hour later, the doorbell was ringing and both Emma and Tracy strolled in. Emma looked a little frazzled, while Tracy had a new air of confidence and calm about her.
They all hugged, and as they sat down at the table, relief washed over Maggie as her gaze skipped across the faces of the women seated around her. No matter what happened with Owen, she knew she would never be alone with friends like this at her side.
* * *
Since the night of that first kiss when they were eighteen, it had been torture for Owen to know that the object of his desire was just yards away. Back then, in his naïveté, he’d thought that all it would take for him to reach her was to find the break in the privet hedges and walk over.
He hadn’t put much stock in the family feud back then. To an eighteen-year-old, it seemed implausible that two old men could hold a grudge for so long. But they had, and what had seemed so simple at the time had turned out to be way more complicated over the years. Especially now, Owen thought as he stood at his bedroom window and stared across to the great lawn behind Maggie’s house.
With the autumn weather being unseasonably warm, Maggie and her gaggle of friends had been out on the lawn during the afternoon as well as down by the beach. Because of that, Jonathan and he had stayed far away, both of them wanting to steer clear of any interaction with the women.
Dusk cast shadows as the sun set to the west of the houses, and light from the french doors leading into the Sinclair home spilled onto the patio and lawn, broadcasting the silhouettes of the women inside. As he watched, a lone figure stepped out and slowly ambled across the patio and down to the lawn.
Maggie.
Her arms were wrapped around herself as if to ward off a chill, but with the weather being so balmy, he got the sense it was more to hold herself together. He understood, since he’d felt as if his life had been coming apart in little pieces in the two weeks since their breakup.
He hated that he’d made her feel like that. Hated that he couldn’t find a way to make things better, until his brother’s words rattled around in his head.
The smallest of acts is better than the biggest of intentions.
He’d been racking his brains since lunch, contemplating just what he could do, but only one thing came to mind. It wasn’t a small act at all, but it was the right one, his heart and brain told him.
Shuffling over to his briefcase, feeling the weight of his decision like an anchor around his neck, he opened it and withdrew the divorce papers. He grabbed a pen before he could hesitate and signed them so his attorneys could take the final steps to dissolve the marriage. He was about to stuff the divorce papers back into his briefcase when his copy of the prenup caught his eye. Like the flash of a lightning bolt, it came to him what he had to do and not impersonally through his lawyer. Maggie deserved more than that.
He gathered up the documents and raced down the stairs. He sped past his brother who was sprawled on the couch, tapping away on his laptop.
“Where are you going?” Jonathan asked as he rushed by.
“To see Maggie,” he said and pushed on, not that Jonathan tried to stop him.
He dashed across his lawn and through the break in the privet hedge. Hurried down her lawn and toward the boardwalk, where he had seen she was headed.
Maggie was sitting by one of the dunes, knees drawn up. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and her head was buried against her knees. As she heard his approach, she lifted her head, and the tracks of tears on her face glimmered in the fading light of day.
It broke his heart that he had put those tears there.
She jumped up and swiped hurriedly at the moisture on her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she tilted her chin up courageously. “I don’t want to talk to you, Owen,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I know, and I won’t bother you again. I understand why you want to end our marriage. No marriage should begin with a lie. That’s why I want to give you this,” he said and handed her the signed divorce papers.
Her hand shook as she reached for them. She took hold of the papers, opened them, and glanced down to where he had scrawled his signature. Her head shot up in surprise, and she tried to speak, but nothing came out, so he kept on going.
He held up the prenup so she could see what it was, and as puzzlement replaced shock, he tore the document up into pieces. “That’s because a marriage shouldn’t be based on a business deal.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “But what about the loan? The lawyers?”
“I always believed in you and that you could turn the stores around. The prenup was just a formality.”
With a deep breath, he waited for her to react. Waited for her to say anything, but she just stood there mutely for long seconds, and with each heartbeat that passed, hope died in him. But he wouldn’t go away without one last try.
“I love you, Maggie. I have since we used to play on the beach together.
That first kiss just confirmed it. I’ve thought about you, about us, every time I saw you in the years after that. The day I married you was the happiest day of my life, and this is the saddest, but I understand, Maggie. I really do, and I hope that in time you can forgive me.”
At her continued silence, he tucked the pieces of the prenup into his pocket, turned, and walked away.
* * *
Maggie stared at his retreating back before peering down at the signed divorce papers. Before reliving the moment he’d torn up their prenup.
So much had stood between them before their marriage, but they’d still managed to fall in love. Now, when yet more had risen between them, she’d lost her faith in him and his love. She’d lost her trust in the truth of his love.
With one swipe of his pen and a few quick rips of paper, Owen had restored her faith and her trust. The one thing still keeping them apart was her pride, but she only had to call up the vision of Owen’s bitter and unhappy dad to know where twisted pride could lead her.
She bolted up the few steps from the beach to the boardwalk and saw him striding across the lawn and toward the hedges. Waving the divorce papers, she called out his name.
He stopped and turned, a wary look on his features, but he stayed in place so she could catch up to him.
“You hurt me, Owen, but I was wrong as well. What we had…what we have is about more than properties and feuds. It’s about love, and we got started on the wrong foot.”
He narrowed his gaze and considered her. “Tell me what you want, Maggie. If it’s for me to go—”
One Summer Night Page 27