Whoever he was and whatever he’d said had caused a cloud to cast a dark shadow over what had been a sunny day and had yanked Owen from that happy place he and Cass had shared.
She could feel the distance spreading between them, and she was at a loss to stop it. She wanted that sweet, thoughtful guy she’d spent the day with to come back, but she sensed that whatever had happened in Scoop was standing between them.
The only thing she knew for certain was that Owen had retreated into himself, and there was no way of knowing when—or if—he’d be back.
Chapter Eight
Owen found Ruby at the counter with a customer when he entered the store. He waved as he went into her living quarters and poured a glass of cold water in the kitchen. He took a long drink, splashed the remainder of the water into the sink, and waited for Ruby’s customer to leave. When he heard the front door close, he went out to the store. He needed to talk to his great-grandmother and didn’t want an audience.
“Gigi, you have a minute?”
“Always have a minute for you. Maybe more, if you need them.” She gestured to the round table along the wall. “Want to sit a spell?”
He nodded and waited until she’d made her way across the room, her feet shuffling in her white tennis shoes. After she’d seated herself in her chair, he took the other and rested his forearms on the tabletop. Neither spoke for a few minutes, but Owen could feel her eyes on him, and he had the feeling they were searching. It wasn’t the only time he’d thought she had such an ability. He’d seen her do it to others. He didn’t know how she did it, but when he was younger, he imagined she had some sort of invisible ray that could secretly probe your mind. At times, just suspecting she was capable of reading his thoughts had kept him on the straight and narrow. He’d secretly thought of it as Gigi’s own form of search and destroy. As a boy, he believed the Gigi Ray was indeed awesome.
He no longer thought of her as possessing the Ray, but he knew she had abilities most people didn’t have. He’d long accepted it, even as he’d never accepted or appreciated similar tendencies in himself. But earlier in Scoop, when Ken Lockhart had walked in, the hair on the back of Owen’s neck had stood straight up, and he’d sensed . . . something.
“You seen my sister yet?” Ken had asked, his eyes narrow and dark.
“Nice to see you again, too, Ken. It’s been a while.”
“I asked if you’ve seen my sister.”
Owen’s Spidey sense began to tingle. “Not in a couple of years.” Owen tried to recall the last time he’d seen his ex-wife. “Maybe two years. Why?”
“Might be time you caught up with her again.”
“She knows where to find me.”
“That’s a fact.”
“What are you trying to say, Ken?”
“Just that you need to mind your own.”
With that, Ken had turned his attention to the flavor board. But the look he’d shot across the room as Owen and Cass were leaving had spoken volumes. Unfortunately, Owen was at a loss to understand what the message might have been. All he knew was that the hair on the back of his neck was still standing straight up.
“Gigi, I got this feeling,” Owen said after relating his exchange with Ken. “I can’t even put it into words.”
“If you’d spent less time trying to push away what you knew all these years, you might not be needing words.”
“What does that mean?”
“What I been telling you all along, but you be determined to deny the gift what was in you by nature. Maybe if you’d been watching, listening, not turning a blind eye and a deaf ear pretending you didn’t see or hear, you’d have seen what you needed to see, heard what wasn’t said.”
Owen sighed. “You mean the sight, or whatever you want to call it.”
“I call it a gift, boy, and it’s not about just seeing or hearing. Sensing, knowing. Understanding what you sense, believing what you know without being told. You been refusing to see, and I been telling you time’d come when you want that sense and it be gone, sure enough. That’s where you be right now.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. “I don’t mind being the one who told you so.”
“Okay, yes.” He nodded. “I wish I could figure out what it was I sensed.”
“Tell me.”
“It was like there was something there I should have known, but didn’t. Something hidden.” He paused, almost embarrassed by what he was going to say, so he lowered his voice. “Like something was reaching out to me. Something . . . Gigi, I felt a pull, but I don’t know where it was coming from. I know it wasn’t a pull toward Ken. And it wasn’t about Cyndi. I’d have known if there was still something there, but there isn’t and there hasn’t been.” He thought that over for a few seconds. “That’s not exactly true. In spite of everything, I still think of her as a friend. I’ll never think less of her because of what happened. She’s not a bad person.”
Ruby stared at him but said nothing.
“Do you know?” he asked.
“Tell me again what he said.”
“That I should catch up with her, and that I should mind my own.”
Ruby nodded. “He be right, son. Time to mind your own.”
“Mind my own what? My own business? I always do that.”
Ruby stared at him as if waiting for him to say more.
“You’re not going to tell me what that means, though, are you?”
“Not my place.”
“What was pulling at me?” Owen whispered.
She appeared not to have heard, though he knew she had. “Ada be on her way about now. That woman sure can talk.” Ruby glanced at the door seconds before her neighbor Ada Banks entered. “You’ll find what you find, and you’ll do what you’ll do. You’ll do right in spite of everything that’s been done to you.”
“Oh, hey, thanks. That makes it all so clear,” he grumbled.
“Hadn’t been such a stubborn cuss all these years, you wouldn’t need me to see for you what you should be seeing for yourself.”
He watched Ruby greet her neighbor and smiled in spite of himself. He’d thought talking to Ruby would help clarify the mixed feelings he had and maybe even explain the odd vibe that had floated from Ken. It had been more than just a reaction to Ken’s coolness and cryptic message. There’d been something visceral, something that spoke directly to something inside him, but damn if he knew what it was all about.
He’d put it aside for now. Maybe one day soon he’d find out where in Ballard Cyndi’s parents had moved, and he’d stop over and see what was going on. Owen had a more immediate concern. Once he’d been bombarded by whatever he sensed from Ken, he had one thought in mind: talk to Ruby. In his haste to get back to Cannonball Island, he’d all but pushed Cass out of the car. After the day they’d spent together, he’d owed her better than that.
“I’ll be back,” he called to Ruby as he left the store and headed for the inn. Because walking to the inn would give him more time to think, he set off on foot to St. Dennis.
It had been years since he’d walked into town, though when he was a kid, his two feet had been his primary means of getting around. But once he’d gotten his license and discovered the joys of driving, walking became passé. This time around, he needed to be alone with his thoughts and to sort through them. But once he arrived at the inn, he stood outside, wondering what to do now that he was actually here. He took his phone from his pocket and sent a text:
Got a minute?
CASS GRABBED A towel from the nearby rack and wrapped it around her before reaching for a second one to dry her hair. She was still confused by the way the day with Owen had ended. The drive back to the inn had been all but silent except for the radio. She was relieved when they arrived at the inn and he’d stopped near the back door.
“I guess you missed afternoon tea.” He’d pointed at the clock on the dashboard.
“That’s okay. I’ll see Grace at dinner. She invited me to join her and her daughter, Luc
y, and her daughters-in-law. I think she realizes I don’t have any friends here—well, other than you, Ruby, Lis, and Alec—so I think she wanted me to meet some others. Nice of her, don’t you think?”
Owen’d nodded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
She sighed. Why try to fight it? Just say good-bye. “So thanks so much, Owen. I had the best time. It was a really great day.”
“Except for being forced onto the Contessa.”
“Even that was pretty cool, after a while.” She’d hastened to add, “Not that I’m in any hurry to go back out on the water, but it was okay. And you were right. I didn’t die.”
“I was pretty sure you’d be okay.” He’d obviously been trying to lighten things up, but he missed.
They’d sat in an awkward silence until he said, “You don’t want to be late for your dinner.” His fingers tapping on the gearshift had made it pretty clear he was ready to leave.
“Right. Thanks again.” She’d forced a smile and let herself out of the car. Before she closed the door, she said, “Owen, you’ll remember to talk to Jared?”
Owen had nodded somewhat absently and waved before he pulled away.
She’d gone through the double doors without looking back. I don’t understand men. In particular, I don’t understand that man, who all of a sudden seems to be running hot and cold.
Once back in her room, she’d gone straight to the French doors and opened them. She’d leaned on the railing that surrounded the balcony and tried to mentally rewind back through the day up until the time things had gone off the rails. The drive to Chestertown had been amicable, and the walking tour he’d planned had clearly pleased and surprised her. There’d been no mistaking the satisfaction Owen had taken in her joy as she all but danced from one historic property to the next. He’d listened to her describe what she saw with a smile on his face, his hands in his pockets. He might have been bored to death, but he had made an effort to hide it.
Yes, he’d forgotten to talk to Jared, but as long as he took care of that tomorrow, she was okay with it.
Then there’d been the Contessa. He thought he’d planned yet another surprise treat for her, and when that hadn’t gone as he’d planned, he’d done his best to help her through the two-hour cruise even as he’d tried to hide his disappointment. The drive back to St. Dennis had been pleasant enough, fun conversation and reflection on their past marriages, their expectations and their failures. They’d stopped for ice cream on a whim, and he’d still been chatty and relaxed.
Then the guy with the beard had come into Scoop, and everything changed. She’d felt it as surely as she’d felt the bay breeze on her face while she stood on the deck of the Contessa.
One way or another, she was going to find out who the bearded guy was and what he’d said that had brought the curtain down on what had, up to that point, been a near-perfect day.
With one eye on the clock, Cass dried her hair, dressed quickly, and put on the minimum of makeup and made it downstairs to the cozy dining room just as the others were being seated.
“Ah, there she is,” Grace greeted her arrival, and made introductions all around.
Cass made mental notes and hoped to keep everyone straight even while her mind was elsewhere. Lucy, Grace’s only daughter, was the inn’s wedding and event planner and was married to Clay, who partnered with Steffie’s husband in the brewery. Jamie wrote self-help books and was married to Grace’s son Dan, who ran the inn. Cass realized she’d read one of Jamie’s books about the importance of honesty in relationships and thought wryly it might be time for a reread.
Before her marriage to Grace’s youngest, Ford, Carly owned several art galleries and currently was in charge of the town’s art center. Ford, Grace told Cass, had taken over the St. Dennis Gazette, their family’s newspaper. All three women were vivacious and friendly and chatty, and under other circumstances Cass would have delighted in their upbeat company. As it was, she could barely keep up with the conversations that swirled around her. She slipped out before dessert, citing a headache that was very real.
Cass was halfway to the stairs when her phone pinged to indicate an incoming text.
She read, then reread, the text.
Got a minute?
She paused at the bottom of the stairwell, debating how to respond. Her first inclination was to ignore the text altogether. She could always claim not to have seen it until a later time, such as the next day. Or she could text back a simple no. But wondering why he was asking would drive her crazy speculating, and she wouldn’t get a minute’s sleep.
What’s up? she typed, and waited.
A moment later came his response: We should talk.
Duh. Ya think? she wanted to reply, but before she could begin to type, her phone pinged again.
Are you busy right now?
Why? she typed back.
She was waiting for him to get back to her when the lobby doors opened. She glanced up at the sound and was startled to see Owen striding toward her.
“I was just texting back to ask you for your room number.” He slipped his phone into his pants pocket.
“Where were you?”
“Outside. Look, can we go someplace quiet, where we can talk?”
Cass looked around, but most of the sofas in the lobby were occupied. They couldn’t go into the bar; they’d have to pass through the dining room, and she’d already left Grace and her family to go to her room with a headache. Cass could think of only one place in the inn where they’d have privacy with no chance of running into Grace.
“I guess we could go to my room.” She pointed to the stairwell. “Second floor.”
“Okay.” He fell into step with her as they climbed the stairs and followed her down the hall.
Cass felt a little awkward unlocking the door and pushing it open. They hadn’t exchanged a word since they left the lobby. But if what he had to say had anything to do with their just keeping things friendly, she wanted to hear that now, tonight. It hadn’t felt that way all day, but if he’d had second thoughts, better to know now. She’d take it, and fine, they could just be friends. She braced herself for it.
But when she closed the door behind them, he reached out for her with both arms.
“Come here. Please.” He’d tugged until she was close enough for him to wrap his arms around her. His lips brushed against hers lightly, and whatever annoyance she’d felt faded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You should be. You have some ’splaining to do.” She decided to go straight to the moment when things had shifted between them. “That guy in Scoop—”
“—is my former brother-in-law. Cyndi’s brother.”
“What did he say that made you freeze up like that?” She pulled away, that confused feeling returning.
“He asked me if I’d seen Cyndi, and when I said I hadn’t, he told me I should.”
“So that was enough to cause you to shut down? And don’t deny that you shut down, Owen.” Cass took a deep breath. She saw no reason not to speak her mind. “One minute things were great, and the next minute . . . well, the next minute, they weren’t.”
“It wasn’t so much what he said, as the way it felt.”
“Look, if you still have feelings for your ex-wife, it’s fine. You don’t have to pretend you don’t. I’ll understand. But you need to say it.”
“I don’t have that kind of feeling for her. I told you. I don’t hate her; I’ll always think of her as an old friend. But I’m not carrying a secret torch for her.”
“Then what was it about seeing him that made you act like you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough?” There. That was what she hadn’t been able to put into words even to herself. But that was how she’d felt.
“It had nothing to do with you.”
“It sure didn’t feel like it. Actually, it felt like it had everything to do with me.”
“I really wish I could explain to you what happened, but I can’t because I don’t understand myself. I got thi
s very strong feeling that . . .” Owen paused as if trying to find the words. “That there was something I didn’t know that he was trying to tell me, something I should have known, something he was angry about, but he wouldn’t say what it was.”
“That doesn’t sound like a random hunch. Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me about your relationship with her? Are you sure she isn’t still in love with you?”
“No way is she in love with me. Trust me on that. She and I knew when it was over, it was over. No, it wasn’t about her.”
“What else could it be? Did you owe him money or had you insulted him in some way in the past?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway. And I never borrowed a thing from him. He was never around. No, it was more like he knew something, something I should know but it’s hidden and he’s pissed off about it.”
“That’s pretty specific.” Cass laughed. “What are you, a mind reader?”
“No. I can’t read minds,” he said softly.
“If you and his sister have been divorced for two years, what could he possibly be angry about now?”
“That’s what doesn’t make sense. I was never good friends with him—frankly, I never really liked him all that much, and now that I think back on it, neither did Cyndi. So his attitude—his whole demeanor—is baffling. I’m afraid I let it get to me and I overreacted. I am so sorry you were caught there, at that moment.”
“I get it. But I wish you’d said something sooner, like when you dropped me off.”
“I wish I had, too. I should have, but I was still sort of startled by the whole thing, and I was trying to think it through, trying to understand. It’s bothering me because it felt so personal, but maybe I just read too much into it.”
“We all get hunches from time to time. And there is another explanation.”
He raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Maybe he’s just an asshole.”
Owen covered his face with one hand for a moment, then laughed. “Well, unless he’s changed a lot, yeah. That fits.”
The Chesapeake Bride Page 16