Thomas Kinkade

by The Inn at Angel Island (v5)

  Daniel was looking out the window and didn’t notice her approach until she pulled out her chair. “Not much improvement, but I feel a bit dryer,” she reported as she sat down.

  His eyes widened, taking in her appearance. “You look great. I love that shirt . . . Here, have some tea. I think it’s ready.”

  He leaned over and poured her a cup of tea, which was made with real leaves and had to be filtered with a silver strainer.

  Liza felt a bit shaken by his compliments and was glad she didn’t need to handle a warm teapot at that moment.

  “Daisy recommended something called Lapsang Souchong. I hope you like that kind.”

  “It looks fine,” she said agreeably. “I’m not very fussy about tea. I hardly know the differences between all the blends.”

  “Me either,” he admitted. “This one smells nice,” he noted, pouring himself a cup.

  The tea did have a pleasant, flowery fragrance, Liza noticed. A sugar bowl held a selection of cubes, white and brown. Daisy also delivered paper-thin slices of lemon, a honey pot, and a small jug of cream. Liza added some honey to her cup, stirred, then took a sip.

  Daniel fixed his tea with sugar and cream. The same way he liked his coffee, she noticed.

  “So, you don’t really seem the tearoom type. Do you come here often?” she asked.

  “Only when I need a good book. Or find a pretty woman wandering in the rain.”

  Liza had been gazing at him but now looked away. His compliment made her blush. “I see . . . Does that happen often?”

  “No, not often enough, come to think of it.” He popped a tiny cake in his mouth and smiled at her. “Hmm, these are good. Poppy seed.” He pointed one out on the tray. “You should try one.”

  Liza scanned the tray and picked out the cake he suggested and also took a tiny sandwich, which looked as though it had cucumber and cream cheese inside.

  She placed both on her plate with the silver tongs Daisy had supplied.

  “So, how long have you been divorced?” he asked suddenly.

  “Oh, not long. About three weeks officially. Though we’ve been separated for months. Nearly a year now, I guess. The paperwork seemed to take forever. Jeff is a good guy,” she added, “but we just want different things now.”

  She looked up at him. “You’re not married or anything, are you?” Claire had told her Daniel was single, but Liza wanted to be sure.

  “No, never been married. I was engaged once. It didn’t work out,” he replied quickly.

  She wanted to ask why not but didn’t feel comfortable pushing for the details. “How long have you lived on the island?” she asked instead.

  “Oh, about five years now. I was living up in Maine before that. In Portland. I just wanted a change,” he explained briefly.

  Liza suspected there was more to that story, too, but she didn’t want to sound as if she were interrogating him.

  “Five years is a long time. It must have been the right choice for you.”

  “It was. So far, anyway,” he added. “How about you, Liza? Do you ever think of making a change? Of staying here?”

  Liza was sipping her tea and suddenly sat back. The question caught her by surprise. “I didn’t at first. It was the furthest thing from my mind. But now . . . I’m not so sure. I’m wondering if we’re selling the inn too quickly, not considering all the possibilities.” She sighed and shook her head. “But my brother and I agreed to sell, and I don’t want to go back on my word to him.”

  Daniel nodded. “I understand. Maybe he’ll come around to your point of view.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve already tried to talk to him. Peter’s very set on selling. He needs the money for his business,” she confided.

  “I see. And I guess you want to get back to your office. You have a big job in advertising, right?”

  “Not as big as I thought, apparently.” She glanced at him. “I thought I was getting this great promotion. It was practically promised to me. But now it looks like it’s going to someone else.” Strangely, confessing that to Daniel wasn’t hard. For some reason, she felt none of the pain and embarrassment she had felt the day before.

  “Oh . . . that’s too bad. That doesn’t seem right.” He offered her a sympathetic glance and poured more tea in her cup, then filled his own again. “You seem very devoted to your work.”

  “Obsessive is probably a better word to describe it,” she admitted. “But now I’m beginning to wonder: What was the point? Sometimes I think I’d love to just quit that job. The problem is, I don’t know what else I would do. I just sort of work, eat, sleep . . . I’m a pretty boring person,” she added with a grin. “You ought to know that right up front.”

  “Now that you mention it, that was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He met her glance and held it, his expression saying that he found her anything but.

  “That’s funny, I thought the same thing about you.”

  He smiled, then reached across the table and took her hand. “Well, we’re in agreement. No wonder we get along so well. You really ought to consider quitting your job and staying out here. Nothing much ever happens. It’s perfect for people like you and me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Liza glanced up at him but couldn’t manage any more of an answer. She savored the sensation of his warm, strong hand holding hers. She liked looking into his eyes and feeling the rest of the world just slip away. It did feel perfect being with him, sitting here, sipping tea, the rain beating on the windows.

  But this wasn’t real life, just a serendipitous moment.

  “Actually, Audrey Gilroy tells me that you’re a volunteer at the medical clinic. So you’re not quite that boring after all. What do you do there?” she asked curiously.

  “Oh, some EMS. Basic first-aid stuff.” He shrugged. “If people need a real doctor, we get them over to Southport Hospital or air vac them out.”

  “Where did you learn to do EMS work? Did you drive an ambulance or something?”

  “Back in college. It was a part-time job.” He looked as if he were about to say more when Daisy came by.

  She smiled down at them. “How is everything? Would you like another pot of tea?” she asked, noticing theirs was just about empty.

  “I’m fine,” Liza answered. She looked at Daniel. “We should probably get back to the inn,” she added, glancing at her watch. “I’ve been gone awhile now. They might just send out the real bloodhounds.”

  “I guess so,” he agreed. “Just the check please, Daisy.”

  Daisy smiled and produced a little order pad from the pocket of her apron. She tallied up their check and set it facedown on the table. Then she took another pad from a different pocket and tore off a sheet from that one, too.

  “And here’s your poem.”

  “Thank you, Daisy,” Liza said sincerely. “I really enjoyed the last one you gave me. I never got to tell you.”

  “That’s all right. My poems are like birds. They’re meant to fly away and give other people pleasure with their song. Pass them on, dear. Pass them on.”

  “Okay, I will,” Liza promised, liking the idea.

  Daniel put some bills on the table and stood up. Liza did, too, and scooped up her pile of wet clothing. “What do I owe for the blouse?” she asked Daisy.

  “Oh . . . you keep it as a gift. It looks perfect on you. I think it was just sitting here waiting for you. I wouldn’t feel right taking anything for reuniting it with its rightful owner.”

  Daisy’s logic was a bit pretzel shaped, Liza thought, but the gesture was generous. Everyone around here seemed so generous in spirit, reaching out for connection. It was so different from the city.

  “Thank you. That’s verynice of you,” Lizasaid, thinking she would find some way to make it up to Daisy before she left the island.

  “It’s nothing at all. Don’t be silly.”

  Daisy walked them to the front door of the cottage. The rain still fell steadily but not quite as hard. Daisy handed them an u
mbrella. “You can borrow this. Drop it off sometime when you pass by.”

  “Thank you, Daisy.” Daniel opened the umbrella and held it out with one hand. Then he slung his other arm around Liza’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Ready to make a run for it?”

  Liza nodded, his nearness leaving her a bit breathless before she’d even taken a step. They ran to the truck, and Daniel opened her door, sheltering her with the umbrella as she climbed in. Then he walked to his side and got in the driver’s seat. Daisy waved and went into her cottage, closing the door.

  Daniel put the keys in the ignition but didn’t start the truck. “We never read Daisy’s poem,” he said.

  “Right . . . well, here it is.” Liza took the sheet of notebook paper out of her shirt pocket and unfolded it. She read the words aloud:

  A little madness in the Spring

  Is wholesome even for the King.

  —Emily Dickinson

  “Interesting.” Daniel smiled briefly. “I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Me, too,” Liza agreed.

  But she could guess what he was thinking. The same thing she was. She was having a little spring madness today—running off in the rain and hiding out with him in the tearoom. It had been perfectly out of character for her . . . and perfectly wonderful.

  She reached over and tucked the poem in his shirt pocket. “Here, you keep this now. Daisy said to pass it on.”

  He touched her hand, holding it to his chest for a moment.

  “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for the tea,” she said quietly. “That was an adventure.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too exciting for you.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nope, not at all. It was just right.”

  “Good. I’m happy to hear that.” He started up the truck, swooped past the General Store, and turned toward the main road that led to the inn. Then he reached across the seat and took her hand. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  “I would like that,” she said quietly. “Very much.”

  She would love to spend time alone with Daniel again and get to know him better. But she wasn’t sure when or how that would happen.

  In a few days she would return to the city, and he would stay here. Not just distant in miles but in an entire way of living and thinking.

  Starting up a relationship with Daniel didn’t seem at all practical. But the touch of his hand on hers reminded Liza that it was too late to worry about that. A relationship had already begun.

  Chapter Ten

  DANIEL steered the truck up toward the inn and parked at the front door.

  “Coming in?” Liza asked. Half of her wanted him to come inside, the other half didn’t. She wanted to be alone awhile and savor their time together in secret. She didn’t want to be with him right now around other people.

  He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m going to get home now. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Right. See you tomorrow.” She sat very still, looking at him. He seemed about to lean over and kiss her when her brother burst out of the house and ran down the porch steps, coming to a stop at the passenger door of the truck.

  “Liza, are you all right?” he called.

  Daniel laughed. “I guess you’d better go. Your adoring fans await.”

  “Yes, I guess so,” she said quietly. She glanced at him a moment, then opened the door and jumped out, practically landing in her brother’s arms.

  “I’m okay, honestly.”

  Peter stared at her, his brow furrowed with worry as they climbed the steps toward the house. “What is that you’re wearing? You look like . . . the Little Prince.”

  Liza laughed. “I do look like the Little Prince. I couldn’t quite figure it out. But that’s exactly right.”

  Peter seemed puzzled at her cheerful answer and good mood. But before he could question her further, Claire stepped out onto the porch, holding a towel as big as a blanket. Liza, who was still damp and chilled, gratefully pulled the towel around her.

  “Liza, we were worried about you,” Peter said, as they paraded into the house. “Where have you been?”

  “Oh . . . I didn’t go too far,” she insisted.

  A lightning bolt lit up the sky, and their conversation was interrupted by the big boom that followed.

  “Where’s Jeff ?” she asked, looking around.

  “He and Daniel went out to look for you. Jeff came back after a while and waited around. But he finally left a few minutes ago,” Peter reported.

  “Good.” Liza sighed, feeling relieved. “I’m going up to change my clothes.”

  “You ought to take a hot shower,” Claire advised.

  A hot shower was a great idea. A long hot shower.

  “Where’s Daniel? Isn’t he coming in?” Peter opened the front door and looked out at the rain.

  “He had to go home,” Liza said.

  Peter closed the door. “Why didn’t he call and let us know you were all right?”

  Liza paused at the bottom of the staircase. “We stopped at the tearoom in the town center. I guess we just forgot to call.”

  Peter frowned. “Just forgot? That wasn’t very considerate. Daniel knew we were all worried about you,” he added, sounding like an anxious father.

  Liza didn’t feel remotely like an errant teenager, but she didn’t want to turn this into a fight. “I’m sorry, Peter. It was my fault. I was afraid Jeff was still here. I didn’t want to see him.”

  “I thought that might be the problem,” he said, his tone softening. “Daniel was a good sport to kill some time with you until the coast was clear.”

  “Yes, a very good sport.” She started up the stairs, hoping her brother hadn’t noticed the smile that stretched across her face.

  Liza took a hot shower and changed into clean, dry sweats and thick socks. Down in the kitchen she found Peter sitting at the table with a mug of coffee. It was late afternoon, almost time for dinner.

  “Would you like some hot soup or some tea?” Claire asked.

  Despite the shower and all the tea she’d had with Daniel, Liza still felt chilled.

  “Some tea would be great. Thanks, Claire.”

  “The water’s all ready.” Claire made the tea and set the mug down at her place, then lifted Liza’s wet hair and slipped a fluffy towel around her shoulders. “You don’t want to get your back all wet again,” she said quietly.

  Liza tilted her head up and smiled at the housekeeper. She was so tired from her ordeal, she didn’t mind being waited on and fussed over.

  The rain was falling steadily in gusty sheets that battered the house. Peter had been reading the paper and put it down after a particularly loud rumble of thunder. “I feel like I’m in the middle of the ocean on a boat,” he said.

  Liza smiled. “At least the house isn’t rocking from side to side.”

  “Not yet,” he replied, raising his eyebrows as another loud crack of lightning illuminated the sky. “I hope you aren’t thinking of going home in this tonight,” he said to Claire. “The roads will definitely be flooded.”

  “They were already pretty bad this afternoon,” Liza said. “You really have to stay over, Claire.”

  “Yes, I’ll stay the night,” Claire agreed. “That’s what my room on the third floor is for.”

  “Don’t bother cooking a big dinner, Claire,” Liza added. “We’ll just have sandwiches or leftovers.”

  Will came into the kitchen then, earbuds draped around his neck. “This storm is fierce,” he said. “I tried to text Sawyer, but nothing’s going through.” Sawyer, Liza had learned, was one of Will’s friends in Tucson. “Think it will be over in an hour?” he asked his dad.

  Peter shook his head. “No, this isn’t like a monsoon back home. The storms here can last for days.”

  Will shot him an alarmed look. “Days?”

  Peter looked about to reply when a huge crack of lightning streaked across the sky. The entire room g
rew very bright for a long moment, then they heard the thunder, which seemed to shake the entire building.

  They all held their breath as the lights in the house flickered . . . then went out.

  “That did it,” Peter grumbled, putting down his newspaper once and for all.

  “The power’s gone out,” Claire said.

  The room was completely black. Liza could barely see her hand.

  “This is cool. Sort of like a fun house,” Will declared.

  “It’s not going to be much fun if it stays this way,” his father pointed out. “There’s not a lot we can do in the dark.”

  “There’s nothing to do around here anyway. What’s the difference?” Will asked.

  Sarcastic but true, Liza thought.

  “We may be without electricity, but we’re not without light,” Claire said. “I’ve gathered some flashlights and candles.” She made her way over to the kitchen counter behind Liza and picked up something. Liza heard metallic sounds. Then a powerful beam of light glowed. It was a large camping lantern. Claire set it in the middle of the table and then picked up a smaller flashlight, which she handed to Liza.

  “Thanks, Claire,” Liza said. “Good thing you thought ahead and had those handy.”

  “Okay, we have some flashlights. What now?” Peter asked.

  Liza was about to answer, but before she could, a loud knock sounded on the door.

  They all turned to look at one another.

  “Who could that be?” Liza asked, wondering.

  “I’d better get it.” Peter rose and picked up one of the other flashlights on the counter.

  “Can I come?” Will asked, rising in his chair.

  “You stay here,” his father commanded. “Let me see who it is first.”

  “Who do you think it is, Dad . . . Dracula?” Will asked.

  “Very funny,” Peter grumbled, as he checked the light and stalked off. Though from the expression on his face, Liza wondered if he did expect a scary visitor of some kind.