The One Who Stays

by Blake, Toni

  IF MEG HAD been holding her glass of lemonade, she’d have dropped it. It was as if a ghost had just walked into her yard. The ghost of a man she’d loved and had just started forgetting the feel of, the scent of, the sight of.

  She finally found words. “You’re back.”

  He grinned. “Of course I’m back. Told you I would be.”

  She blinked nervously, then tried to stop by widening her eyes, letting out a sigh. “Well, not exactly. You said you’d...see me soon or something. But I thought that meant...never.”

  Now the handsome man in front of her narrowed his gaze, let out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Meg darlin’—everything happened fast. I stopped to say goodbye and you weren’t here, so I scribbled that note quick without thinking much about it. And then I called the next evening, but—”

  She blinked once more, despite herself. “You called the inn?”

  Now his eyes widened. “You didn’t get my message? On the machine? Right after I left?”

  She shook her head. But then remembered...the answering machine. Miss Kitty’s clumsy day. Maybe she’d missed more than someone calling for a reservation. “It’s possible,” she said, still too stunned to think straight, “that Miss Kitty erased it.”

  He tilted his head, slight but ever-charming grin back in place. “And here I thought she and I were friends.”

  “I suspect it was more a slip of the paw than anything malicious.”

  He nodded, and said, “Well, darlin’...guess what matters is—I’m back now. If you want me to be, that is.”

  She could barely process this—and had no idea what it meant that he was suddenly here, standing before her. She only knew that she didn’t want with him what she’d had with Zack. She wouldn’t live that way again. “I...did want you to be. On the morning you left, I was ready to tell you that. But then you were gone.”

  “Aw, Meg.” His face fell. “Darlin’, I didn’t know. Especially when you didn’t call me back. I didn’t want to keep calling if maybe...you were glad to have me out of your life. I had no idea the cat was scheming against me.” Another quick grin, but it faded as fast as it came. “I didn’t know if you really felt anything for me or not. I thought there’d always be Zack. Truth is, I didn’t know if my leaving would matter all that much.”

  She swallowed. “Well, it did. And Zack’s out of the picture for good now.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and hated that her vulnerability was showing just when she’d thought she’d gotten her life completely under control. “Where did you go? Where have you been all this time?”

  “Pennsylvania. With Granddad.”

  “Oh.” It came in a whisper. For some reason, she hadn’t expected that answer.

  “I called him one day from the old pay phone in the Huron Hotel and he asked me to come. Said he hadn’t been feeling right and was getting some tests done, and he sounded kinda scared. So I went—and like I said, didn’t really think it would matter much if I wasn’t around.”

  She blinked again. “Tests? Is he all right?”

  “He is now. Turned out he had pneumonia. Doctors said it can come on slow in older folks. He’d had bronchitis back in the spring and they suspect the meds just didn’t get the whole infection and it took a while to start wearing him down. Truth is, I hadn’t planned to be away anywhere near this long, but he was in the hospital, and after he got home I still wanted to stay and make sure he was okay, you know?”

  She nodded. “Of course.” Her mind flashed on the diary—on the fact that pneumonia had been enough to threaten her great-grandfather’s life. “Pneumonia is serious business.”

  “Yeah, I found that out. But he’s good now. And while I was there...well, I did a lot of thinking, and a lot of talking to him about things.”

  “What things?” she asked.

  “Hard as I was trying, Meg, I wasn’t sure I was good enough for you. Wasn’t sure I was the man you deserve. But Granddad believes I’m becoming that man more every day. Enough that he said I should quit wasting time and get my posterior back up here and let you know it.” He grinned softly. “Posterior. You know him and his big words.”

  But then he resumed looking more serious again.

  “So here goes. I love you, darlin’.” Stopping, he shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever loved a woman before—it’s all new to me. And I just want to do things right. I want to be a better man, and I want to live the best life I can because...well, you inspire me to, I guess. And if you’d consent to let me, I’d like to stay here, be here for you—in the way I wish my mom and grandparents could have been there for me.”

  Then he dug down in his pocket and pulled out a small gray velvet box. He opened it to show her the ring inside—her grandmother’s ring. “I took this with me to have it sized. A five, right? Like I said, I had no intention of being gone so long—thought I’d have it back here in a week. In fact, that’s why I called—when I figured out I’d be gone longer, thought you might notice it missing. All this time, I assumed you’d heard the message and knew.” He stopped, shook his head. “Damn, I’m sorry for whatever you must have been thinking about me since then. Guess I should’ve called again—but like I said, I thought maybe you were working things out with Zack and didn’t want me in the picture.”

  He blew out a breath, then took a look around the big yard before bringing his blue eyes back to her face. “Now that I know that’s not the case, though... I guess I have this idea that maybe someday, Meg, I’ll get you to marry me. And we’ll live in this house and run this inn together and I’ll make you happy. I know it’s too soon for that. I know I’ve got a lot of proving myself to do. But someday I want this to be your wedding ring, darlin’. And for now, I want to give it to you as...a promise, I guess. To be there for you. To do my best. And to—”

  “To stay?” she finished for him.

  “Yeah. To stay.”

  She pulled in her breath. That was all she’d ever really wanted—a man whose love for her would make him stay. And she was no longer naive enough to believe this would be simple—but it felt real to her. Real enough to trust again, real enough to try again. “That promise sounds good to me, Seth.”

  “Like I said,” he told her with a grin, “you’re an easy woman to please.” And with that, he took the ring from the open box and slid it onto her finger. A perfect fit now. Then he leaned in to lower a soft, sweet kiss to her cheek. Charmers gonna charm. And he was charming her all over again.

  She’d been through a lot in her life—she’d been through a lot the past few months, for that matter—but nothing could have surprised her as much as Seth’s return. And that, despite the darker path his own life had taken, she believed with her whole heart that he was a good man.

  Men came and went in a woman’s life, but not nearly as many came back. And this one had returned with a long-lost ring and a promise. A promise to stay.

  * * *

  If you’ve fallen in love with Summer Island, you won’t want to miss the next book in the series, The Giving Heart, coming soon in November 2019! Keep reading for a special preview.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Giving Heart by Toni Blake.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WRITING THE SUMMER ISLAND books has been a true journey for me in many ways. And as we seldom complete long journeys in life without the support of others, I want to thank those who took the time to help me make these books richer.

  Thank you to Lindsey Faber and Renee Norris for early feedback on parts and pieces of the manuscripts. Your responses and input, as always, were invaluable to my process.

  Thanks to the Mackinac Island Tourism Bureau and the Mackinaw City Chamber of Commerce for answering various questions about wintertime on a Great Lakes island.

  Much gratitude to Dr. Yasmeen Daher and Dr. Syed K. Mehdi for suggestions and help on some injury-related issues in the final book. M
y apologies for any missteps in the writing, with hopes that I represented the variables and possibilities in a true and realistic manner.

  It would be impossible for me to acknowledge every website or article I drew some small bit of insight from along the way, but among noteworthy online sources are: Main Line Gardening, Diane Vautier and Care24.

  Thanks to Lisa Koester for taking my messy map of Summer Island and turning it into an adorable work of art.

  Sincere appreciation to my longtime agent, Christina Hogrebe, for championing the first book, and for supportively and patiently sticking by me through a long illness that sidelined me for a while during the writing of it. And to everyone at the Jane Rotrosen Agency for many years of wonderful representation.

  And finally, thank you to my incredible editor, Brittany Lavery, for such an uplifting publishing experience: for insightful and detailed editorial input and for helping me make these books the best they can be. And to the whole team at HQN Books for giving Summer Island an amazing home.

  The Giving Heart

  by Toni Blake

  SNOW BEGAN FALLING on Summer Island the first Monday of December. It shouldn’t have surprised her—despite the name, winters here came early and often lasted into spring. But she hadn’t checked the forecast, and as she stood peering out the big picture window of the Summerbrook Inn while thick, heavy flakes dropped from the sky, Lila wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming.

  She’d never been good at looking ahead in life, even in the smallest of ways, like knowing if she should take a jacket when she left home—or in this case, a parka and mittens. Or in bigger ways—like failing to see the signs of imminent danger, the kind that were so easy to recognize in hindsight but you just didn’t put the pieces together before it was too late. She tugged a furry robe that belonged to her sister, Meg, tighter around her, hugging herself to ward off a chill—whether real, from the cold and snow outside, or imaginary.

  She’d always seen the trait as a sign of optimism—not worrying about the weather, or not expecting doom to strike. She liked being a live-in-the-moment woman. But since arriving two days ago at the family inn—run by Meg since their grandmother’s death when Lila was only a teenager—she’d realized that coming to house-sit for her sister hadn’t delivered the peace of mind she’d hoped for when she’d made the offer. Leaving Chicago for the blustery month of December had seemed appealing for more reasons than one—but turned out weather and doom had followed her north.

  North. Why did I think the weather would be better in northern Michigan than in Chicago? She’d been flustered and emotional at the time, but still. This is why developing a weather-checking habit would be wise. If you’d checked the weather—and given this trip at least a modicum of thought—you’d have a parka, and a furry robe, and flannel PJs, and a pair of cozy slippers. More things she’d had to borrow from Meg’s closet: below Meg’s purple flannel pajamas, decorated with white snowflakes, Lila wore Meg’s fleece-lined slippers with cat faces on the top.

  Taking her cell phone from the robe’s deep pocket, she pulled up a weather app. No time like the present to build a habit that will make you a more responsible person.

  Her immediate future looked snowy. Light snow was expected on and off ’til nightfall, and tomorrow it would become heavier and more measurable. Each day in the extended forecast featured a snowflake. She chose not to dig any deeper beyond that, not sure she wanted the answers. This is why I don’t check the weather. Maybe she’d rather not know when bad things were coming. In case they didn’t. Maybe pure optimism could wish bad things away.

  Though that had been easier to believe two weeks ago.

  As it was, doom and danger had found her, and now so had snow. She should probably venture out to Koester’s Market today, stock up on some simple foods, and hunker down for the storm. Because even if she was a little sorry she’d come, it was too late to leave—she’d promised Meg to feed the cat and take care of the big Victorian house their great-grandparents had built just after World War II while Meg and her boyfriend, Seth, spent time with his grandpa in Pennsylvania between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

  She’d promised. And she’d never been a very good sister. And she wanted to start being one now.

  And even if she threw Meg over and hopped the next ferry back to the mainland, where would she go? Back to Chicago? No, she’d left for a reason—and had no desire to return to the scene of the crime so soon. Or to her parents’ house in Ann Arbor? They’d all gathered there for Thanksgiving just last week, yet through no fault of her family’s, she’d suffered the strong desire to be alone.

  Well, Summer Island in winter was good for alone time. And given that no motor vehicles were permitted on the tiny island near the point where Michigan’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas met, she’d at least have the solitude. Maybe she’d curl up in the overstuffed easy chair in the little room they’d always called the nook and read some of the many books in the house. Maybe she’d meditate by watching the snow silently blanket the lawn and the trees that cocooned the inn. Maybe she’d even get together with Meg’s friends here, one of whom—Suzanne Quinlan—had kindly stopped by yesterday to welcome her. And maybe, somehow, through all that, she’d figure out how to start letting go of the doom that had sent her haring away from Chicago as quickly as she could pack a suitcase—minus a robe, slippers, and parka.

  And if nothing else, maybe she’d finally get some sleep. Somehow. A large yawn reminded her that sleep had been difficult to come by the last couple of weeks. She’d been sure that would change when she reached the winter solitude of the inn, but no such luck—at least not yet.

  Need to know what happens next? Preorder your copy of The Giving Heart wherever you buy your books!

  Copyright © 2019 by Toni Herzog

  ISBN-13: 9781488085857

  The One Who Stays

  Copyright © 2019 by Toni Herzog

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