by Marie Force
“Yes.” Carolina straightened and wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt. “I had to know if he was leaving because of me, so I went to see him. Other than a few minutes when I was waiting to meet your boat the other day, I haven’t seen him in months. But I’ve thought about him. Every day.”
“What happened when you saw him?”
“Just like last fall. It was…explosive.”
Janey fanned herself. “I wish I was a smoker.”
For the first time since the conversation began, a hint of a smile tugged at Carolina’s lips.
“If it would help,” Janey said, “I’ll be there when you talk to Joe.”
“Oh, would you, Janey? That would help so much.”
“Of course I will. Remember, it wasn’t that long ago that I broke up with my fiancé of thirteen years and took up with your son the same night. I know what it’s like to worry about what people will say.”
“Yes, you do, don’t you?”
Janey nodded. “And here’s how I think it’ll go—people, and Joe in particular—will be wound up about it for a while. And then something else will happen to change the conversation, and they’ll forget all about you and your scandal.”
Carolina winced at the word scandal.
“Sorry. Poor word choice.”
“I’ve never been part of a scandal before.”
“Maybe it’s time, huh? You’ve been alone for so long. I know Joe would be thrilled to see you happy again, and so would I. He’d never admit it, especially not to you, but he worries about you.”
“I wish he wouldn’t.”
Janey shrugged. “You know how he is.”
“I do, and that’s why I’m so afraid to tell him.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Carolina. I’m not sure, exactly, how he’ll take this. He’s put a lot of trust in Seamus to run the business in his absence, so he’s apt to be quite upset at first. But once he has time to get his head around it, he’ll be glad you have someone new in your life, especially someone like Seamus.”
“Why do you say that? Especially someone like Seamus?”
“He’s wonderful,” Janey said. “What’s not to love about him and that brogue?” She fanned herself dramatically. “Not to mention he’s crazy handsome.”
“I’ve noticed that—and the brogue.”
Janey giggled at the besotted expression on her mother-in-law’s face. “Joe thinks the world of him.”
“As an employee. As his mother’s boyfriend or whatever he’d be? Will he think the world of him then?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 15
Watching his son pace back and forth as he engaged in an intense phone conversation on the main pier the next morning, Big Mac McCarthy waited until Mac ended the call before walking out to join him. The pond, placid in the early morning calm before the storm of daily activity, was chockablock full of the sailboats that had gathered for Race Week, and the marina was completely sold out. A bank of fog hung over the pond, an early season staple as the cold New England water did battle with the warming air.
Mario, the pizza-and-bakery man from town, drove his skiff around while singing Italian opera and delivering muffins and baked goods to the boats at anchor. His deep tenor carried across the water as it had every summer since Big Mac had bought the rundown marina almost forty years ago. Another season on Gansett Island was under way, but Big Mac’s mind wasn’t on business. Not when his firstborn was clearly upset about something.
Mac leaned against a piling, staring out at the pond, lost in thought. What a handsome man his boy had turned out to be, Big Mac thought as he approached him. Having Mac working with him every day at the marina was one of the greatest joys in a life filled with great joy.
“Everything okay, son?”
Mac glanced at his father. “No, everything is not okay.”
It was so unlike his type-A son to admit anything was bothering him that Big Mac was taken aback for a second. “What’s wrong?”
“First of all, Thomas has the stomach bug. Apparently, Ashleigh has it, too.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Poor kids.”
“And Maddie…”
“What about her?”
Mac shook his head. “She’s making me so mad.”
Big Mac was truly astonished to hear that. The two of them were so stupid in love they didn’t even know they were supposed to fight once in a while. “Over what?”
“Her goddamned deadbeat father wants to see her, and she’s actually going to do it. And it doesn’t even matter to her that I don’t want her to.”
Big Mac leaned an elbow on the next piling. “She’s doing it because of Francine.”
“Yes,” Mac said, sounding weary. “We keep going round and round about it, and I can’t make her see reason.”
“She’s determined to do it.”
“That’s what she says.”
“Then you have to let her do what she needs to do. How’d you like to have it on your mind that you were standing in the way of someone else’s happiness?”
“It’s not that simple, Dad. She remembers him. She remembers him leaving. She sat in the window for weeks watching the ferries, hoping he’d change his mind and come back.” His voice caught on the last words, which tugged at Big Mac’s heart. He hated seeing his kids upset about anything. “She was five.”
“You could go with her.”
“She won’t let me.”
Big Mac held back a smile he knew his son wouldn’t appreciate. “How come?”
“She doesn’t trust me to behave.”
“Can’t say I blame her there.”
“Thanks, Dad. That helps. Really.”
“I’ll go with her.”
Mac looked up at him. “What?”
“I’ll go with her. I knew Bobby Chester a little bit back in the day. I know how he operates. I’ll make sure he doesn’t say or do anything to cause additional harm.”
“You’d do that? Really?”
This time, Big Mac didn’t hold back the smile. Was there anything, anything on God’s green earth, he wouldn’t do for his five kids? Well, seven kids, if you counted Joe and Luke, and they certainly counted as his.
“Of course you’d do that,” Mac said, more to himself than his father. “I should’ve known better than to ask.”
“Yes, you should have.” Big Mac hoped to draw a small smile from his son and wasn’t disappointed. “I’ll take good care of her. Leave it to me.”
“Excuse me.”
They turned to find a man waiting to speak with them—a handsome guy in his mid-thirties, if Big Mac was estimating correctly. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m Steve Jacobson. The woman in the restaurant thought you might be able to help me out.”
“Sure,” Big Mac said. “What’d you need?”
“I’m here for Race Week, but my crew is down with the stomach flu.”
“Seems to be going around,” Mac said. “My son and niece have it, too.”
Steve winced in sympathy. “Do you know of anyone who might be able to stand in for my crew for the opening race? If I don’t sail, I have to forfeit the whole regatta. They think they’ll be better for the day after, but tomorrow is the big day.”
“You could do it,” Big Mac said to his son.
Mac shook his head. “Not with this place so busy and Thomas sick. Maddie’s freaked out about the baby getting it, too.”
“I understand it’s a lot to ask,” Steve said.
“Let me ask around,” Mac said. “I’ve got a couple of brothers and some friends who might be into it. How many do you need?”
“Four would be ideal, but I could make do with three if they know what they’re doing.”
“My kids know how to sail,” Big Mac said proudly.
“Required life skill for the children of a marina owner,” Mac added, which made Steve laugh. “I’ll see what I can
do.
“Thanks very much.” Steve shook hands with both of them and headed for the parking lot, cell phone pressed to his ear.
“You should take a day off and get away from it all,” Big Mac said to his son. “It’d do you some good. I can handle things here, and Mom and Francine can help with the kids.”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” Mac glanced at his father. “Thanks. You know, for what you’re willing to do for Maddie. I think she’ll go for that plan.”
Big Mac rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you—or for her.”
“Have I mentioned lately that I got pretty damned lucky in the dad department?”
The words hit Big Mac right in the solar plexus, but he managed to refrain from overreacting. His kids hated when he overreacted—not that he thought he ever did… “No, I don’t think you’ve mentioned that,” he said, going with lighthearted over emotional.
“Well, I did, and so did the others. Seeing what Maddie is going through has brought that home even more than it already was.”
“That’s nice of you to say, son, but I got lucky in the kid department, too. The lot of ya turned out pretty good despite the mess I tried to make of you.”
“That’s thanks to Mom,” Mac said with a cheeky grin.
Big Mac cuffed his son upside the head and then drew him into a hug. “Don’t worry about your lady, son. I’ll take good care of her.”
“Thank you.”
Blaine knew it was absolutely ridiculous to stop by Tiffany’s store to see how Ashleigh was feeling and to find out whether Tiffany had gotten any sleep. It was especially ridiculous to go there with Wyatt in tow. He was supposed to be working on some training with the patrolman, but all he could think about was Tiffany. Until he satisfied the need to see her, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work or anything else. It occurred to him that this thing with her was moving way too fast, but that didn’t stop him from pulling the SUV into the grocery store parking lot. “I need to make a quick stop.”
“Has there been more trouble with the store?” Wyatt asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Oh.”
Blaine was grateful that the chatty patrolman chose to keep whatever comments he might wish to make to himself. He wasn’t prepared to explain his relationship with the purveyor of Naughty & Nice, especially to one of his subordinates.
The chime of the bells on the store’s door reminded him of the last time he’d visited the store and what had happened then. He quickly forced his thoughts off that topic and focused on a quick visit. However, the scent of the store filled his senses, reminding him of the night before. Honestly, he was like a randy fourteen-year-old boy where she was concerned. With a quick look around, he didn’t see her.
Patty emerged from the storeroom, and Blaine did a double take. Wow. She looked so different. “Oh, hi, Chief Taylor. How are you today?”
“Doing good, Patty. Did you cut your hair or something?”
Her cheeks turned bright red. “Or something. Tiffany gave me a makeover.”
“Well,” he said, “you look great.”
“Totally great,” Wyatt added, his eyes bugging at the sight of Patty’s pronounced cleavage.
Before his patrolman could embarrass them both, Blaine asked for Tiffany.
“She’s home sick today. Apparently, she caught whatever Ashleigh had.”
Blaine hated to think of her being sick. “That’s too bad.”
“Should I tell her you stopped by?”
“That’s okay. I’ll give her a call later. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Blaine headed for the door and was halfway across the street when he realized Wyatt wasn’t with him. Fuming, he turned to go back after him when the patrolman came bursting out of the store wearing a goofy grin on his face.
“What the hell are you doing?” Blaine asked him as they got back into the SUV.
“Nothing.”
Blaine studied the younger man, who looked like the cat who’d swallowed the proverbial canary. “Did you ask her out?”
“Am I required to disclose the details of my personal life to my chief?”
While Wyatt’s cheekiness annoyed him, it also amused him, much to his dismay. “At all times.”
“In that case, yes, I asked her out—not that it’s any of your business.”
“If it happens on my watch, it’s my business.”
“How do you figure?”
“Son, you’ve got a lot to learn about police work.”
“I assume all of this is in the manual?”
The dryly spoken comment earned a genuine laugh from Blaine. “Naturally.” He retrieved a binder from the backseat and tossed it to the mouthy patrolman. “Study up. I’ve got a phone call to make.”
“To your girlfriend?”
“Shut up and read.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shaking his head, Blaine got out of the truck and slammed the door. Pain-in-the-ass kid. Was he ever that insubordinate? Thinking back to his early years as a patrolman in a small Massachusetts town, he decided he was probably worse than Wyatt ever thought of being. He found Tiffany’s number on his phone and pressed Send.
Her “hello” a minute later sounded tortured.
“I heard you were sick. Are you okay?”
“Dying.”
“Where’s Ashleigh?”
“Sleeping. We were up all night.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I’m okay.”
“Could I check on you later?”
“I’d permanently scare you away if you saw the way I look right now.”
“Nah. I’m not that easily scared.”
“I’m also afraid of you getting it. I certainly exposed you to it last night.”
“I liked the way you exposed me to your germs. Can we do it again soon?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” she said with a moan. “Everything hurts.”
“Do you think you should call David?”
“Nah, just a flu. Hopefully a quick one. I need to get back to work.”
“Patty is holding down the fort at the store. I just saw her.”
“Oh, really? Any customers?”
“Not that I saw, but it’s early. Get this—my patrolman Wyatt asked her out.”
“That’s awesome!”
He was surprised by her enthusiasm, especially when she felt so crappy. “You think so? It could turn out to be a pain for both of us.”
“She wants a boyfriend so badly. The poor thing has never had one.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. She was very cute telling me about the makeover you gave her while blushing furiously. That was a nice thing you did for her, Tiff.”
“It was fun.”
“I’ll call you before I come over later to see if you guys need anything.”
“Thanks.”
Blaine hung up with her and got back in the SUV.
“How’s the girlfriend?” Wyatt asked.
“Sick, if you must know.”
“I heard there’s a stomach flu going around the island. Nasty business.”
“She has it and so does her daughter.”
“That’s too bad. I can cover for you for a while if you need to help her out.”
Maybe there was hope for the kid after all. “That’s not necessary, but thanks for the offer.”
“Where’re we heading now?”
“I need to stop by the Sand & Surf for a minute.”
“What goes on there?”
“They’re getting ready to reopen at the end of the week, and Stephanie’s restaurant is opening to friends and family tonight.”
“So what do you need to do?”
“Make sure the fire chief got there to inspect the place before it opens, check in with Laura, the hotel manager, to see if there’s anything she needs from us for the opening, and I need to speak with Owen Lawry’s mother, Sarah, about a
personal matter.”
“Sounds exciting.” Wyatt’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“A lot of what we do as small-town police officers is boring, especially in the off season. But at least once a year, I save a life, usually that of a kid who gets drunk on the beach and doesn’t realize he or she has alcohol poisoning. The other night, we saved a woman from her abusive boyfriend, seconds before he would’ve killed her. It’s not like the big city with the nonstop action, but we have our purpose.”
As he drove, Blaine glanced at the patrolman. “I’d understand if you decide it’s not for you. That’s why we insist on a probationary period where either party can terminate the contract. We don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be here.”
“I like the job. More than I thought I would. I’m not so sure how I feel about being stuck on the island, though.”
“Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.” As much as the kid got on Blaine’s nerves at times, he had real potential, and Blaine would hate to lose him.
“I will.”
They parked behind the hotel and walked around to the front. The old gray lady gleamed from the facelift she’d been given over the winter. Her shingles had been power-washed, her trim painted, the porch rebuilt and most of the windows replaced. To look at the hotel now, you’d never know it had guarded the northern corner of the harbor town for more than a century or that it had fallen into disrepair after Owen’s grandparents retired a few years ago. Pots of flowers sat on the stairs that led to the porch where new white rocking chairs waited for guests to while away a summer day overlooking the waterfront.
“Place looks awesome,” Wyatt said.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
Inside, they found Laura McCarthy conferring with the fire chief, Mason Johns. Laura’s baby son, Holden, snoozed in a pouch tied around his mother’s shoulders.
“Hey, Blaine.” Mason extended a hand. “We were just talking about you.”
“Is that right?” Blaine shook the other man’s hand. At roughly six foot six inches of solid muscle, Mason towered over him and most other men. Someone had told Blaine that Mason had once been a competitive weightlifter before he became a firefighter. Suffice to say, Blaine wouldn’t want to screw with the guy.
Wyatt stared at the fire chief with blatant admiration and a healthy dose of intimidation.