by Olivia Miles
“Your sister has quite a talent,” Sheila said.
“Yes,” Hope said, fighting off a rush of contradictory emotions. Ellie had always followed her heart instead of her head, something that their father warned would only lead to trouble. But Hope felt like the one in trouble. The one without a clue as to what the future held anymore. The one who hadn’t preserved her own identity.
Whereas Ellie…she always knew what she wanted. And who she was.
“I opened this shop about four years ago,” Sheila was saying now as she adjusted a few vases on a shelf. “I’d visited the island before and it was always my dream to end up here someday. You’re fortunate to have grown up here.”
“We only summered here,” Hope corrected, “but…we were fortunate.” They still were, she thought. So long as they still had Sunset Cottage, they still had this island. It was always here. It always had been. It just hadn’t been…practical for a while.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been back to the island,” Hope said. Too long.
Now, looking back, she felt bad. Maybe they’d expected too much from Ellie. Holding down the fort, taking care of the house. It wasn’t like they had offered to pitch in. But they had responsibilities, and Ellie…well, Ellie was Ellie. And as much as she hadn’t vocalized it, she understood why Gemma had said what she did last summer. She had a good arrangement here. One that Gran had provided.
“I’m looking for some help, if you’re interested,” Sheila said, and Hope had to stop herself from gaping. “Some of my regular clients have been asking for personal consultations. Some of the projects are small—decorating for the holidays or summer parties—others are larger in scale. I’ve advised clients on everything from wall color to floor tile.” She laughed.
Hope didn’t know why, but she felt suddenly seized with panic, as if there was a decision to make, and she wasn’t prepared to make it. It had all sprung up too soon, and there were logistics. She didn’t have childcare. How on earth could she take a job right now? It wasn’t practical, but where had being practical gotten her before? And what about Evan? He’d be coming back soon enough, and what was she going to tell him when he did? What about her lovely Tudor house on Willow Lane? And her car. It was still at the ferry station in Blue Harbor, in the long-term parking lot. For some inexplicable reason, she began to worry that she’d forgotten to roll up the windows, even though she never rolled them down. Still, she should check. She could take the ferry over, ease her mind.
Except, if she got on the ferry, stepped foot on mainland, she wasn’t sure that she would have the courage to come back. Because she knew how she felt here. Good. Too good, maybe.
“Oh, I don’t—” She stopped herself. This was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? An opportunity to do something for herself? To pursue her own interests? To use her mind to do something other than keep lists and manage domestic routine?
If there was one thing she knew how to do well it was keep a home. And decorate one.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be staying,” she said, taking the card. It was thick cardstock, creamy white, and the raised font was in rose gold lettering. Effortlessly chic. She could almost picture her own name staring back at her as the idea the woman was offering began to take shape.
This island was full of potential. Beautiful, Victorian homes just aching to be restored to their former glory. It was a project that would inspire her. One that would make her feel alive. She felt more energized than she had in years just thinking about it.
“That’s fine,” Sheila said. “I could use the temporary help if that suits you. Though of course if this works out, I’d be sorry to see you go.”
Hope would too, she realized. She’d be very sorry to go, but not because she didn’t want to return to Chicago. Because she didn’t think she was quite ready to leave the island. And more and more, she wasn’t sure that she ever would be.
***
She left the shop a few minutes later, after exchanging phone numbers and agreeing to meet with Darcy Ritter up on the bluff this Friday, something which seemed to bring as much relief to Sheila as it did excitement to Hope.
She fought the urge to hold in her news, realizing that she wasn’t sure that there was anyone she could tell who would understand just how much this meant to her. Gemma seemed to think that her life was perfect; that she didn’t need to seek change. And Ellie…well, Ellie was too wrapped up in Simon and the argument with Gemma to care very much about Hope having a meeting with Darcy, head of the local quilting club. Ellie had her paintings in stores, after all.
Her so-called friends in the neighborhood would be downright appalled. A job? That word ranked up there with snake pit when it came to fear factor.
And of course Evan. She hadn’t even thought to tell Evan.
Sobering, she decided to treat herself to an iced coffee, and the girls to a baked good of their choice, considering they had behaved so well during that interaction. She pushed the stroller into the Cottage Coffeehouse off Water Street, her spirits lifting again when she saw John at the corner table, a laptop open and a bunch of paperwork spread out in front of him.
She stood in line, placed her order, wondering if she should bother him, questioning why she had a burning desire to share her news with him, when no one else felt like an option at the moment.
She glanced his way, waiting to see if he would look up, and then, when she collected her coffee, and she had to decide whether to take her own seat or leave without saying anything, he rubbed a hand across his face wearily and looked up. She smiled. He smiled. And then, with an unspoken invitation, she walked to his table.
“Hello.” Was it just her, or did John seem happy to see her? His eyes were crinkled and his smile was broad and he pulled out a chair. It squeaked against the floorboards. “Sit if you have time.”
She glanced at the girls, deciding the muffins would keep them occupied for a few minutes at least.
“Sure,” she said with more excitement than she had planned, but she couldn’t help it. Her good mood was bubbling up inside her; even her step had a skip in it.
John picked up on it right away and gave her an inquisitive grin. “You’re awfully chipper today.”
It was true. She was. And he was more used to seeing her frazzled and weary, wasn’t he?
“I’ve had some good news,” she said. She paused, fearful that once she made her announcement, her bubble would burst, that he’d let her down, the way so many had before. That he’d remind her that she was a mother, point out that the kids needed her, that she’d have time for all that other stuff in a few years. That he’d fail to recognize what this meant to her. That she’d feel foolish and regret all of it. “I’ve been offered a position, well, an opportunity, you might call it, to be a design consultant for the interior décor shop over on Main Street.”
“That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, and Hope realized in that moment that she loved him for that, even though she shouldn’t. After all, what did she know about this man other than that he was kind and helpful? And handsome, she thought. He was very handsome.
“Thanks,” she said, licking her bottom lip. She took a sip of her coffee and leaned in. “You’re the first person I’ve told. It just happened, so I’m a little frazzled.”
“You? Frazzled?” He gave her a wink and she laughed out loud.
“Most people don’t see that side of me,” she admitted. Maybe that was the difference. With John, she was her true self, maybe even her weakest self. And she didn’t mind. No pretense. No airs. And from him, no judgment.
If anything, she might even go so far as to say that he seemed to like her.
“So, tell me more about the job,” he said, closing his laptop.
For a moment, she felt bad. She’d interrupted his work. But then she realized that he wanted to be interrupted. He’d chosen to give her his full attention. He actually wanted to hear her describe her passion, her interest, her knowledge.
She swallowed,
her mind racing at how to describe her responsibilities. “Well, I’ll be meeting with some of the local clients in their homes, to help them maximize their full potential. Some projects will be small, but it’s the bigger ones, the ones that require more of a renovation that excite me the most.”
“Keep talking like that and I might hire you to help with the inn that I’m planning to buy.”
She blinked. Was he serious? That wasn’t a job he was describing…that was a career! Her heart began to race when she considered what that implied, but then she realized she was getting ahead of herself. She hadn’t even met with Darcy yet.
“Needless to say, it’s a great opportunity and it was certainly unexpected.” She smiled as she took another sip of her coffee.
“You look happy about that,” he said, grinning. “It suits you well.”
Her cheeks flared as their eyes caught and immediately John held up a hand. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“Not at all,” Hope said. She wasn’t used to compliments, she realized. She couldn't recall the last time she’d been given one by Evan. On their anniversary? She’d worn that black strapless dress that still fit, even though she’d bought it before the twins were born, for one of Evan’s company dinners. When they’d first met, and even early into their marriage, he would compliment her when she made a special effort, but those days had faded. Life had become even more practical, and romance…well, romance wasn’t practical at all, was it?
She glanced down at her rings. She saw John do the same.
No, she thought to herself, there was nothing practical about any of this.
“My husband isn’t with me on this trip,” she said.
He held up a hand. “You don’t need to explain.”
She considered that. Maybe she didn’t need to explain. Maybe there was no need. They were just two people on a small island who kept bumping into each other. She was a lonely woman. And he was a kind man.
Except she didn’t think it stopped there. And the look in his eyes told her that he didn’t think so either. There was a sadness there, a resigned acceptance that she couldn’t exactly place.
“I feel the need to, though,” she said. “We’re…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She didn’t know what she and Evan were, only what they had once been. Once, they had been friends—the sort of friends who knew that they were a good match. On paper. But what about in real life? What about when it mattered?
They rarely laughed anymore. She couldn’t blame Evan, not entirely. It felt like their entire life together was one long string of events, of things they were supposed to do, not things that they wanted to do. He worked hard, and she worked hard. Only more and more it seemed that while he could complain about a meeting with his boss or a difficult client, if she complained about Rose having a potty accident in the middle of a store or even being tired after a long day of taking the twins to all their kid-activities, that she was looked at as being a bad mother. Not a busy one. Not a person with feelings that mattered.
“We’re taking a break,” she finally said. It was an honest answer, and one that she hoped wasn’t misleading. She liked John. She wanted to spend time with him. But she was still a married woman.
He nodded as if he understood, or perhaps had been through something like this himself. “So he’s not coming here then?”
“No,” she said. He was never there. And that was the problem.
And John…he was here. He was everywhere she turned. But more than that, he was present.
Chapter Sixteen
Gemma
When Leo said they should get out, he was true to his word. Out didn’t mean sitting in one of the dimly lit pubs near the harbor, nor did it mean sipping coffee at the Cottage Coffeehouse.
She stood outside the Birchwood Stables, staring at the backside of a white horse named Sonny. “You can’t be serious,” she finally said.
He tossed her a grin. “You’re going to tell me that you summered here every year and never learned to ride a horse?”
“Of course I learned to ride a horse,” she said, throwing him a look of mock exasperation. She swallowed her nerves. They didn’t go down easily. “It was just…a long time ago.”
Back when she was scrawny, fearless, and…confident, she realized. The past year had taken a toll on her; made her question herself, not just her future.
“You should have no trouble then,” Leo said, watching her expectantly. He gave his stallion a pat after adjusting the saddle.
Gemma saw no way out of this one. She looked worriedly up at Sonny. Would the poor animal even hold her weight? She felt guilty. She wasn’t a skinny little kid anymore, and all that Thai takeout hadn’t exactly helped her midriff area. Still, as she watched Leo hoist himself onto his horse and grab the reins, she knew she was just making excuses.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered as she slid her shoe into the stirrup and pulled up onto the horse. There. That wasn’t so bad. It was just a lot higher than she remembered it being, or maybe she hadn’t ridden such a big horse in the past.
She glanced to the barn door, where the ponies were eating hay. Ah, yes, those were the days. Small, less intimidating creatures. A few feet from the ground at best. Now, she was towered high up above the dirt path. It would be a long, hard fall down.
“Please don’t trip,” she whispered into Sonny’s ear.
Leo was an expert, or a natural, she’d soon find out. He led them away from the stable, riding side by side with her on route to the wooded path where Gemma tried not to worry about fallen logs or other hazards.
Leo kept them going at a steady pace, but she could tell that he was itching to trot, and, as Gemma grew more relaxed, she almost felt the urge, too.
Almost. No sense in getting ahead of herself here. With any of it.
Still, her stomach stirred every time Leo caught her eye and gave her one of those warm grins, the kind that made his eyes go all crinkly at the corners.
“Where’d you learn to ride?” she asked. It clearly wasn’t his first time on a horse, and she doubted it was a skill that he had just picked up since moving to the island, either.
He was quiet for a minute as he led his horse away from a pair of bicycles that were parked outside a picket-fence-lined home.
“I rode growing up. Grew up on a ranch.” He glanced at her, as if not sure he wanted to tell more or needed to explain more. She focused on her horse, gripping the reins in her hands, trying to relax into the moment, and struggling.
Noticing, Leo grinned. “Anyone ever tell you that you have trust issues?”
Gemma laughed. “You’re right. But I just met Sonny here. It’s not exactly easy to put my life in her hands.”
“Hate to break it to you, but Sonny is a boy.”
“All the more reason then,” Gemma snorted.
“You just met me too,” he said, catching her eye, and something in the way he looked at her made her heart start to race. “And I’m a boy.”
He was a man, through and through, and she couldn’t help raking her gaze over the width of his shoulders, the muscles in his forearms as he led the horse.
“You saying I should be careful?” she asked, realizing, with mild horror, that she was flirting with him. A little.
“I’ve been known to let people down,” Leo said, and by the way his brow drew together, she suspected that she had hit a nerve. They said nothing more as he steered his horse onto the wooded trail, and they rode single file for a while.
It was easier this way, Gemma thought. She didn’t have to see his face, or his smile, or the warmth in his eyes. Didn’t have to make eye contact. Maybe it was easier for him, too. He was a quiet man, and he didn’t want to reveal much.
Not that she was up for sharing. After all, you just don’t blurt out that your fiancé got cold feet without people wanting some explanation.
“So where’s the ranch?” she asked, thinking this might be safer grounds, and he had volunteered it, after all.<
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“Wyoming,” he said. “That’s where my father was from, and how my mother ended up out there.”
She knew that Edward had lived most of the year in Wisconsin until he became a full-time resident. “That’s farther away than I expected,” she said.
“Like I said, I needed a change.”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She watched him bounce a bit on his saddle, steer his horse to the right. She followed.
“You ever planning to go back?” she called out. He was gaining ground on her, and she wasn’t yet ready to let Sonny loose.
The pause was so long that she assumed he hadn’t heard her.
Finally, he said, “The ranch belongs to my brother now.”
A brother. That was something. She realized that she wanted to know more. Older brother? Younger? Were there others?
“You two close?” she settled on, thinking of the bond she shared with her sisters, even though they had grown apart in recent years.
Even though Ellie was still upset with her.
“No,” he grunted. He led the horse into a clearing and stopped. “You see that house over there?” He pointed through the dense trees. The trillium that was native to this region was still in bloom, a lush carpet leading up to a white carriage house. “That’s my place.”
She hadn’t even considered where he might live other than with Edward, who kept a small cottage closer to town. She’d seen him so much at the Taylor house that she’d just connected him with the house, even though of course he didn’t live there, he was just tending to it.
She took a good look at the carriage house that he had motioned to. It was freshly painted, with black shutters that flanked white paned windows. Underneath, where others might keep a carriage, were bales of hay.
“Whoa, boy,” he said as he led his horse through the gate.
“Wait,” Gemma said as it all started to come together. She forgot all about leading Sonny as she took in her surroundings. “That’s your horse.” No wonder the stallion had a shiny new saddle, she mused.
