Dedication
To all those who keep the light burning and help guide us home
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Acknowledgments
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
Also by Shelley Noble
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
The moment Lillo Gray pulled up to the Atlantic Yacht Club and Hotel, she began to sweat. Okay, it was summer in Maine, which could get pretty hot, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t even that the battered VW van she’d borrowed in order to get there had no air-conditioning or that it was totally out of place among the new, high-end cars in line for valet parking. Valet was the only way to park; she’d checked.
It was everything. The sundress and shoes she was wearing were borrowed from her friend Sada. Even her wedding outfit was on loan from Barbara Carroll’s consignment store.
Who wore someone else’s clothes to a wedding? The shoes were too big, the sundress was too short, and the back of her thighs had stuck to the scratchy seat the whole way from Lighthouse Beach.
She should never have left the small island where she lived—and would probably die. She just shouldn’t be here, especially not for a wedding—and yet here she was.
Because Jessica Parker was getting married.
Lillo barked out an unintended laugh. The line moved forward. She jumped when the car door swung open and a young man in khaki trousers and polo shirt greeted her with a smile—a smile that almost hid his chagrin. He’d get razzed for being the one who had to park the old VW.
She smiled back, a smile just as forced as his, and tried to unglue her thighs from the seat while sliding gracefully to the pavement. An epic fail. He had to catch her arm as one foot slipped out of the backless shoe.
By the time she’d returned her foot to the shoe—not an easy task without bending over while keeping her skirt down—a bellman was already placing her luggage on a shining brass cart. At least her luggage was her own. A present from her parents when she went off to medical school. Another epic fail.
She followed the man inside to a large reception area of white wood and expensive carpet. Across the back, a panoramic view of the bay and ocean was bisected by a trumpet-shaped staircase that led to a balcony where bridesmaids and groomsmen would line up for photographs. The bride would stand on the staircase looking dreamily at the camera, or maybe triumphant, her white train artfully spread out on the descending stairs. All for a white leather album that no one really wanted on their coffee table. Or maybe they wouldn’t even print the photos out, but put a digital album on display that would slowly flash pictures one by one until the cycle began again. On and on and …
“Lillo!”
Lillo turned toward the voice and saw a tall, model-thin woman hurrying toward her, something she accomplished easily in stiletto heels. Lillo smiled tentatively as she scrutinized the shiny designer hair, the big round eyes, the overbright smile. She didn’t have a clue.
“I can’t believe you made it.”
The woman, about her own age—late twenties, early thirties—stopped in front of her and did one of those shoulder-lift, face-tightening gestures of excitement and delight.
It was a reaction that Lillo remembered well. Still …
“Jess?” she asked tentatively. The last time she’d seen Jess Parker was when they were two unhappy fifteen-year-olds at fat camp. Both unhappy, but not for the same reasons. Lillo’s parents owned the camp, and Lillo, skinny as a rail mainly from doing nonstop chores, was resented by most of the campers because she was so thin. Jess was a chubby, depressed rich kid, full of self-loathing. She was far richer than the other campers, arrived in a limo, under the supervision of a servant, overweight enough to send to camp, but not fat enough to fit in.
They’d been drawn together from the first summer Jess had attended. She’d been ten to Lillo’s barely nine, but they recognized in each other something special. Misunderstood by their parents and the world, they’d become best friends for three months of the year, and wrote to each other during the rest of the time until they’d see each other again. Every summer Jess lost weight; every winter she gained it back and her parents kept sending her back to camp. During the school year, Jess dreamed of coming back, Lillo dreamed of getting away and becoming a doctor like Doc Clancy, or like Ned Hartley would become someday. Year after year they met again—until that disastrous last summer.
Now Jess was the really thin one, svelte, almost gaunt, and the happiness in her eyes and smile seemed frantic.
“Wow! You look wonderful,” Lillo said. Her arms went instinctively around her friend. Because somehow they were still friends. Lillo could feel it arcing in the air between them. Was that why Jess had not only invited Lillo to the wedding, but had sent a separate e-mail begging her to come?
“Let’s get you checked in, then we’re sneaking off for happy hour.” Jess hustled Lillo up to the registration desk. When Lillo opened her wallet to get her credit card, Jess stopped her. “Comped.” She handed the bellman, who was standing at the ready, a bill and told him to take Ms. Gray’s luggage to her room.
“You don’t need to go up, do you?”
Lillo glanced down at her car-wrinkled dress.
Jess took the room card from the desk clerk and handed it to her. “You look fine. You look great. If you have to pee, you can pee at the restaurant.”
Lillo didn’t resist when Jess steered her toward a side door and onto a lawn, wide and green enough to belong to one of the mansions along the coast road. To their right the bay sparkled all the way to the sea, from behind them laughter and the tinkling of glasses drifted down from the balcony bar.
Lillo glanced up to see a crowd of exquisitely dressed people at the rail.
“Don’t look,” Jess warned. “It’s Mother’s cocktail hour with the invited guests. They might see us and invite us up.”
“Are those men in white—”
“Arab oilmen. The governor is flying in tomorrow along with a senator or two. Mother is in her element.”
“Shouldn’t you be up there?” Lillo asked as Jess steered her across the drive, away from the hotel.
“No. Tonight’s our night.”
Jess stopped to pull off her shoes, motioned for Lillo to do the same. As soon as Lillo picked up her shoes, Jess grabbed her free hand and they ran across the lawn toward the parking lot. Lillo was super aware of the crowded balcony bar. And was hit with the same jolt of excitement and anxiety she’d felt when, as girls, they’d skipped out on the camp activities to escape to the secluded beach, where the trees and boulders hid them from view and judgment.
At the edge of the parking lot, they stopped to put their shoes on.
“You can park your own car?” Lillo asked.
“God no, how utterly middle class.” Jess gave her signature eye roll. Lillo had always envied those eye rolls. “Anyway, we’re not driving. We’re
drinking.”
They wove through the parked cars until they were out on the road. Across the way, a few houses and stores made up a picturesque postcard of a New England village. Picking a moment when traffic was heading toward them in both directions, Jess hustled Lillo across the street. Honking ensued.
“Jeez!” Lillo exclaimed when they were safely—barely—on the opposite sidewalk.
Jess merely grinned and kept walking.
“Where are we going?”
“To a bar. Don’t worry. We have a reservation. It may be a little trendy for you.”
Lillo wanted to say she could do trendy, but Jess didn’t slow down. “There’s nothing but trendy around here. Or else extremely homegrown with terribly authentic ambience.” She stopped suddenly. “Is the Corner Luncheonette still on Lighthouse Island?”
Lillo shook her head. “Burned down several years ago.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I loved that place. They didn’t build back?”
Lillo grimaced. “Not worth it, I guess. The owners left the island. Lots of people have. Hey, where’s this fiancé of yours? Will he be at the restaurant?”
“No. Girls only, with my other two besties. I hope you love them.”
“I’m sure I will.” This was beginning to sound more like girls’-weekend-away than until-death-do-us-part, Lillo thought, suddenly wishing she were anywhere but here. What had she been thinking?
As they made their way down the narrow sidewalks of the little shopping district, Jess talked about her friends. “We were all in the same sorority. Diana pledged us. She and I became great friends and ended up working together in Manhattan. Allie married right out of college. Owns a ginormous vineyard in California.”
The escapades they’d been through as undergrads. “We were crazy. I don’t know how we survived college.”
And what they looked like. “Diana’s tall, thin, totally urban, you’ll like her, though. Allie’s petite. Sweet. But tough in her own way. She’s had to be.”
All this while Jess practically force-marched Lillo down the crowded sidewalk. Not once did she mention her fiancé. No “I can’t wait for you to meet James.” No “He’s made me so happy.” Not one question about what had been going on with Lillo since high school. No explanations for why Jess hadn’t stayed in touch. Or why she’d been so adamant about Lillo attending her wedding.
Jess barely slowed down when they reached the glass doors of MoonBeam, a lantern-illuminated part pub, part bistro that seemed confused about its place in the culinary world. The specials board was an eclectic mix of seafood, vegan, and taco bar.
Jess waved off the hostess and made a beeline for the enclosed porch at the back of the building, steering Lillo with a tight grasp on her elbow.
Lillo barely had time to acknowledge the two women seated at a corner table before Jess thrust her into a chair and collapsed in the chair beside her.
“Lillo, meet Diana and Allie.”
“Diana,” the woman sitting across from Lillo said as she stood partially to reach across the table and shake Lillo’s hand. She was one of those tall, well-dressed, sophisticated women with an expensive haircut. A powerhouse. Definitely fit Jess’s brief description and definitely belonged at a posh wedding like this one.
Unlike me, Lillo thought.
“And Allie,” said the shorter, blond woman to Lillo’s right. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and it made Lillo relax a little. “We’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad to meet you at last.”
Lillo nodded and smiled at both of them, wondering why they should have heard all about her when she hadn’t even heard from their mutual friend in years.
“I’m so glad you’re all finally here,” Jess said. “Now everything is perfect.”
And she burst into tears.
Diana and Allie were on their feet and coming around the table to Jess before Lillo even realized what was happening. She turned in her chair to frown at Jess. “Is this nerves?” she asked. “Or are you unhappy?”
Diana and Allie stopped in midsoothe. Both heads swiveled to look at Lillo. Jess locked eyes with her.
Jess sniffed. “Same old Lillo.”
“You expected me to be someone else?”
“Evidently not,” Diana volunteered, looking at Lillo with an intensity that made her want to disappear. “And thank God for it. We’ve been wondering what was going on since we got here.”
“I’m fine, fine,” Jess said. “Really. It’s just nerves, and the stress of all this planning and dress fittings and cake tasting and guest lists. I don’t even know half, maybe three-quarters, of the people invited. It’s all just a bit much. And now they’re forecasting rain. And we may have to move the ceremony inside and everything will be ruined.”
“It’s not going to rain,” Allie assured her.
Right, thought Lillo, who was facing the window. If those weren’t storm clouds, she wasn’t a lifelong Lighthouse Islander.
“And if it does,” added Diana, “it won’t last until Saturday. Everything will be dry in time for the wedding.”
“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding to a wonderful man,” added Allie. “Lillo, do you know James?”
Lillo shook her head. “But I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Everything is a go, rain or shine,” Diana said. “So you don’t have to worry about anything.”
“You’re right. I was just having a moment. I’m fine now.” Jess huffed out a sigh. “Waiter, girlie drinks all around.”
Allie patted her shoulder and returned to her seat.
Diana exchanged looks with Lillo. Either she had more to say, or she was signaling Lillo that something was amiss. Or something. Lillo had been so reclusive in the last year that she was afraid she’d lost the ability to actually communicate with others, verbally or otherwise.
And as far as what Jess was feeling? Was it normal wedding nerves? Or was something much deeper bothering her old friend? It had been a long time, a really long time, since they’d even seen each other, much less talked or shared secrets.
Even so, Lillo tumbled into the time warp where nothing had changed. It was the little telltale signs of distress she had always recognized. That tight little shrug, the grasp on her elbow, the brave forced smile as Jess made excuses for being late, for being fat, for not being lovable.
Lillo huffed out a sigh. She was exhausted already and the festivities hadn’t even begun.
They started with martinis, dirty for Diana, pomegranate for Allie, and lemon drop for Jess. When it came to Lillo, who was a beer drinker, she floundered and ended up ordering a glass of white wine.
A discussion of the menu followed. What Lillo noticed first were the prices. Just about everything started at thirty dollars. It was going to be a long weekend. And it would take a serious chunk out of her sporadic income.
“Bride’s treat,” Jess announced as if she’d read Lillo’s mind. And Lillo blushed, even though she knew Jess hadn’t actually read her mind.
They ordered small plates for eight large people, a pitcher of sangria, and a gigantic order of nachos that Diana, Allie, and Lillo dug into with gusto while Jess picked out the tomato chunks and olives. Both friends were animated and funny, and in spite of Jess’s seeming preoccupation, Lillo began to think she might actually have fun. Diana manipulated the conversation and the tone of the evening with the finesse of a good cruise director, though in reality she turned out to be the CEO of her own start-up app company.
“She’s amazing,” Jess said as she lifted the pitcher of sangria with both hands and sloshed wine and several pieces of fruit into her glass. “Two years and she’s doubled her employees and her revenue.”
“Aren’t you glad you got in on the ground level?” Diana quipped.
“And how. You make my portfolio sing,” Jess said, and took a healthy gulp of her drink.
“We’ll all be singing at the rate we’re going,” Diana said as she filled Allie’s glass then her own. She pushed the pitcher ac
ross to Lillo, whose glass was still almost full. She topped it off just to be polite.
“I think I’m getting a buzz already,” Allie said with a lopsided grin.
“That’s because you’ve gotten spoiled on your own expensive wine.” Diana turned to Lillo. “Allie is a California vintner. Acres and acres of potential cabernets and merlots.”
“It’s my husband’s family’s vineyard,” Allie said. “Since 1874.”
A momentary silence washed over the table and Lillo wondered what she was missing. But since no one enlightened her, she just sipped her sangria and waited for the conversation to begin again.
“And what about you, Lillo?”
Lillo nearly bobbled her sangria. She put her glass down. She’d known she’d be asked this question, and she had a nice answer prepared.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jess said, rousing herself. “Lillo and I were besties and we’ve kind of lost contact in the last few years—my bad.”
“Not at all,” Lillo said. “E-mail works both ways, we just got busy. We’re here now, that’s what counts.” She cringed at her own duplicity. She had no idea why Jess had invited her or why she’d actually come.
“I know you went to medical school. Are you finished? Are you practicing in Lighthouse Beach?”
The questions were rapid-fire. They all laughed.
In her enthusiasm, Jess didn’t seem to notice. “Lillo always wanted to be a doctor, right? She was always taking care of birds and turtles and stuff, and practice-bandaging. I was the guinea pig.” She sighed. “Some of the best times of my childhood.” She reached for the sangria pitcher.
“Did you specialize?” Diana asked politely.
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