by May Archer
I blinked. Mason buried his face against my shoulder blade and said, “Baby,” so softly I don’t think anyone but me heard it. Young Rafe shook his head at my expression and coughed, “Dumbass,” before smiling broadly. But I just stared at Big Rafe, utterly dumbstruck. I’d realized Friday that I’d maybe been reading the man wrong for a while. I hadn’t realized just how wrong until that moment, and once I did, it shed an entirely different light on every conversation we’d had… ever.
Every time he’d mentioned his boys. Every time he’d mentioned making things right for the Goodmans.
Well, shit.
“Aw! Look at Fenn having emotions,” Beale said in a smug, satisfied sort of way. “How cute.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Enjoy it now because we’ll be adding this to the list of things we don’t discuss.”
Beale nodded. “I kinda figured.”
Young Rafe ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still not entirely understanding, Dad. You own the island? The whole island?”
“Lord, no,” Big Rafe said, frowning. “Just most of it from here north to, say, Margot Lane? Except Marius Wynott’s place, of course, and the land around it. Not the inn. Not the Sundry. Couple other spots, too.”
“So what’s the problem?” Beale demanded, asking the question I was pretty sure the rest of us had been thinking. Big Rafe’s eyes cut to him, and Beale shrugged. “Doesn’t take the sight to see you’re nowhere near as excited as you should be about this. You devoted your entire life to finding this treasure and finding the Esmerelda. Now half your life’s work is done and you’re all, ‘Yeah. Whatever.’”
“Because finding the treasure was not my life’s work, Gage!” Big Rafe exploded. He jumped out of his chair and began to pace the yard. “Do you boys know what Gloria said to me on Friday when she was out in that bunker, unable to breathe?” He thrust a hand toward the back fence and the bunker beyond. “She told Mason she didn’t want to go to the hospital because she knew I needed her help to plan the Extravaganza and she didn’t want to let me down. As if she could! As if that were possible!” He shook his head wildly. “Fenn’s said a hundred times, and Rafe has, too, that I’m a liar, a manipulator. That I care too much about my own plans and make everyone else fall in line. But I… but I… I figured you always knew that the point of the treasure was never the treasure. It was you boys. It was my Mary. It was our family.”
He pushed his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath. “Gloria and I have been dating for a little while now. I wasn’t gonna say anything until Gage came home for summer break and we could make an announcement, but I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I love her, and somehow, despite everything, she loves me, too. But even then, the woman thought I’d be upset about the stupid Extravaganza when she needed me. And it’s made me start to wonder… all those times when you boys got mad at me, had you really not understood how much I loved you? How much more important you are to me than anything? This island could sink into the Gulf, and as long as you four were all right—” He broke off and turned around, staring at the tree line, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
All of us were silent for half a minute, and even Rafe, who’d called me a dumbass for not recognizing that Big Rafe cared about me, looked completely poleaxed by his father’s heated confession.
“Well, damn, Dad,” Gage said. He lifted himself out of his chair and went to clap his father on the shoulder. “If you wanted me to cancel my plans, you should have just said so. No need to be all dramatic.”
Big Rafe snorted.
“And just to say, Uncle Rafe,” I called. “I never doubted for a second that you cared about your family.” I just hadn’t known I was a part of it.
“Well, I just want to say, I called this thing with you and Gloria weeks ago, and no one believed me!” Mason, my personal troublemaker, piped up.
Young Rafe punched Beale in the arm. “Are you hearing this? Dad and Gloria are in love. Mason shacked up with Fenn, God knows why. And even Gage has a date. It’s just you and me, Beale.”
Beale shook his head, and his face turned pink. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
“Oh, the burn!” Rafe gasped and clapped a hand to his chest. “And now he keeps secrets from his family, too? Beale, it’s like I hardly know you.”
“Beale should be allowed to date whoever he wants without teasing,” Mason said stoutly. “And however many people he wants. Whatever makes him happy.”
Beale snorted and ran a hand over his face. “I’m not in a poly relationship, Mason,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“You’re not?” Mason did sound oddly disappointed.
“Wait, were you ever?” I demanded.
“For your sake, I’m really glad you two have improved your communication skills recently,” Beale said, grinning at Mason and me. “Getting you two together has been a full-time job.”
My jaw dropped. “Pfft. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Same,” Mason agreed. “We may have had some tiny, minor issues—”
Beale hooted. Young Rafe laughed out loud. Even Big Rafe shook his head and smiled.
“—but we’ve figured them out. I can’t wait to see how your relationship progresses.” Mason sat back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest smugly.
“Yeah, me neither,” Beale said, rolling his eyes.
“So, wait, speaking of secrets… Dad, how’d you get the money to fix up the island?” Gage asked. “The small-business loans, the road repair… Did you mortgage some of the land?”
This was an excellent question.
Rafe opened his mouth to answer when a voice called from the side yard, “Yoo-hoo! Afternoon, Goodmans! And Doc Bloom!”
Rafe closed his mouth with a smile. “Guess a man should get to keep some secrets, shouldn’t he?”
I wanted to protest, but before I could, nearly the entire population of Whispering Key invaded the backyard, and Mason jumped to his feet in surprise.
Max scurried in first, chasing after his soccer ball, which Marjorie leaped off the porch to run after. Taffy came next, smiling and shaking her head in apology for her son, carrying a tray of cupcakes she dropped on the table before giving Mason a hug. Lety arrived like a queen with her court, carrying a bouquet of flowers in her arms while Bubba and Juju hurried behind her carrying enormous platters of food in mismatched plastic containers. Lorenna and George McKetcham came next, followed by their granddaughter, Maddie, who held a rolled-up paper. Then more folks came, and more, and more, each one walking up to Mason to shake his hand, or give him a hug, or say a word of thanks about some ache or pain or worry he’d soothed in just the few weeks he’d been there.
“What’s happening right now?” he whispered to me, wide-eyed, during a break in the greetings.
I smiled just a little at the stunned, happy expression on his face and shrugged. “The other night, when I thought you might be leaving the key, I figured it might be easier to convince you to stay if I had a little help, so I asked Maddie McKetcham to call a few friends.” But honestly? Even I was stunned by just how many people she’d organized, just how many people Mason had touched.
And when Maddie unrolled a banner that said Welcome Home, Mason Bloom and Mason got legit tears in his eyes and turned to wrap his arms around me, I knew my incredibly hokey, cheesy plan had worked.
“I’m the best at plans,” I whispered in his ear.
Mason laughed, just as I’d known he would, and lifted his green gaze to mine. “Unnecessary plans, maybe. I was already convinced.” But when he pulled my head down to his and slid his tongue against mine, all breathy and wanting and Mason, I knew I was going to spend a little time every single day reconvincing him.
“Mason, chico!” Lety bustled up to us, wearing a bright orange dress and a happy smile. She grabbed Mason’s hand and patted it lovingly. “I’m so happy you’re staying! Just remember, my sweetheart, que el amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no, okay?”
“Okay.�
�� Mason nodded solemnly. “That sounded… really beautiful.”
Lety smiled warmly and patted his cheek. “Don’t change, my Mason. Don’t change.”
Mason looked at me blankly, and I shrugged. Sometimes I felt like I’d understand Lety better if I spoke Spanish, and sometimes I was convinced it was better that I didn’t.
“Dr. Bloom!” Marius Wynott came over, wearing a three-piece blue suit and holding two arms full of fluff. “I’m so very relieved that you’re planning to make your sojourn on Whispering Key more of a permanent affair! And Topaz is very excited that you’ll be here to dog-sit.”
Mason patted the squirming furball.
“I also must congratulate you two, finding the treasure the way you did.” He sighed. “Like most mysteries, the answer seems so obvious now that all has been revealed.”
I frowned. “You think? That was never where the treasure was meant to be. I figure there must have been an underground river that carried the treasure down from—”
Mr. Wynott’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no, my boy. Oh, no no no. Don’t you see? The answer was right there in Resolute Goodman’s papers all along. He buried the treasure in the garden of dreams.”
“Yes,” I said patiently. “The dream garden he built his wife. But there was never anything in Sarah’s—” But looking at him in that moment, I realized the answer. “Not Sarah.”
Mr. Wynott shook his head.
“Jacob.”
Mr. Wynott nodded. “I do believe so, yes. The garden at the Original Homestead.”
“Wait,” Mason said. “Wait, wait. Does this mean Resolute and Jacob were…” He widened his eyes meaningfully, and I poked him gently.
“Mason. Words.”
“Gay,” he said finally.
I grinned. I kinda hoped they were, if only because Jessica the “shipper” would be so thrilled.
“Oh, hard to say,” Mr. Wynott said, waving a hand airily as he struggled to contain his dog, who desperately wanted to get down. “Men in those days spoke much more effusively than we do today, and that place may simply have called to Resolute as the place where he and Jacob had dreamed up their plans for the island. But I do admit there’s a certain romanticism in the idea of them together.” He nodded once, firmly. “Two imperfect men who found a unique way to spend the bulk of their lives together during a time when the world was less kind than it is now. If Jacob’s spirit ever did haunt this island, I like to think he’ll be at peace knowing another pair of star-crossed lovers have finally gotten together in their stead. Maybe that’s why he finally allowed you two to discover the— Oh, good heavens! Topaz! You leave that cat alone!” he cried, running after the dog who was running after Marjorie.
“I don’t believe in any of this,” I told Mason, turning him to face me.
“Nope. Me neither.”
“Not ghosts. Not portents. Not mystical woo-woo…”
“Not fate, not destiny, not the Universe?”
I hesitated. “Well…”
Mason laughed. Then his phone chimed in his pocket, and his laughter turned to a groan.
“What?” I demanded. “Reporter?”
“No, worse. Apparently some reporter got my name and printed it.”
“Oh.” I stroked a hand down his back. “That was always gonna happen, babe. Is it a problem? Are you worried people will know about us?”
Mason gave me a look so full of love, I literally couldn’t have imagined it, in those fucked-up years after Texas Thad.
“Are you joking? I want everyone to know about us. In fact, if Gerry keeps looking over at you, I’m gonna get Property of Loafers tattooed on your forehead. But my brother made me promise I’d call him if I joined the mafia or ended up on the news.” He brandished the phone in my direction. “Guess who made the news and didn’t call?”
“Ohhhh.” I glanced down at the screen where there was a link to an article followed by his brother’s words.
Micah: An IMPOVERISHED island? A buried treasure? A BOYFRIEND? What the actual fuck, Mason? You haven’t been gone TWO MONTHS. I’m expecting A CALL.
“Oops?” I offered.
“No shit,” he said, sliding the phone away so he could loop both arms around my neck. “Constantine and Micah will be coming soon, if I know them. God, and so will Toby.” He leaned up on his tiptoes to bite the tendon in the side of my neck, and I hissed. “Which is why we really, really shouldn’t waste any alone time now. As in, we should walk away right this minute. Because it’s going to be a really busy summer around here, Fenn Reardon. Everyone’s gonna want to come to Whispering Key. We’ve got sunshine year-round.”
I laughed out loud and pulled him tighter. “It’s basically paradise,” I agreed.
And with Mason in my arms, that was the absolute truth.
Preview of The Date
(A Love in O’Leary Prequel Novella)
"Yes, I definitely have your order right here, Tanya!" Maura said. Her voice was ten kinds of chipper as she held the phone against her shoulder and jotted a note onto the order pad in front of her. "Yup. Three square layers of Tahitian vanilla with passionfruit cream, covered with rolled fondant in your wedding colors. Right. Uh huh. Lilac and persimmon, just like the swatches you sent us. That'll be... just... super, super cute."
I paused in my completely unnecessary polishing of the wooden cafe tables at the front of the bakery and turned to watch my tiny, brunette assistant bullshit the customer on the phone.
I shook my head and mouthed, "Liar!" but Maura tossed me an unrepentant wink and went back to her conversation.
Super cute? No. Tanya Fallon's cake would be done on-time, decorated perfectly, and fucking delicious. But it should come with a warning label about possibly searing the retinas of anyone within a ten-foot vicinity.
I'd learned the hard way you weren't supposed to tell customers that, though.
Gran had tried to drum the whole customer's always right thing into me since I was tall enough to see over the front counter, but somehow my mouth never learned to take direction from my brain. Thank God Maura had stepped up when Gran retired, or else Fanaille would have gone bankrupt.
Instead, unbelievably, the little family bakery she'd left me in this little upstate town... was suddenly making bank.
I moved aside the lace curtain on the bakery window and peered out past the sickeningly cheerful red-and-pink hearts Maura had plastered up there for Valentine's Day. The snow was really coming down out there now, and it gave Weaver Street even more of a peaceful, homey vibe than it usually had.
From across the street, golden light spilled out of nearly identical cafe curtains on the windows of Goode's Diner. Further down the block, Henry Lattimer was already bundled up and standing out in front of O'Leary Hardware, brandishing his shovel against the swirling flakes like Braveheart with a sword. Despite the darkening steel-grey sky, pedestrians were walking along the streets, stopping to have conversations with their neighbors even as the white stuff blanketed their hair. Kids, who were already off school for winter break, were throwing handfuls of snow – since there wasn't quite enough out there to make proper snowballs yet - at their friends, and squealing.
Quaint and picturesque, right? Yeah, that's O'Leary, New York.
You know how you watch those Hallmark movies at Christmas? (Oh, don't lie, you know you do. We all do. Hell, I don't give two shits about Christmas, I hate 90% of humanity, and I'm gayer than a sparkle-covered rainbow flag, and I still watch the damn things.) Every one of them is set in some pretty little town where the residents are bizarrely cheerful and show up to enthusiastically sing carols and pass around cookies, just as the couple finally get over their drama and kiss. And you know how you watch it and simultaneously think Jesus fucking Christ, it's Stepford, and OMG, why isn't my town like that? Yeah, that's O'Leary, too. You might also wonder when you're going to get your happily ever after. I know I do.
Growing up, I'd figured O'Leary was like any other town. I'd assumed most towns had a bevy of gossips
who knew the business of every man, woman, and child in a five-mile radius. I'd thought barn weddings and cookie swaps were something everybody did. I figured most towns would have been as accepting as O'Leary, when a person's grandmother unintentionally outed them in the produce aisle of Lyon's Imperial by asking way, way, way too loudly, "Is that hottie by the lettuce the senior you're crushing on, Caelan? He is a tall drink of water, alright!"
Then I'd moved to Rochester for school, and realized just how different O'Leary really was. And how comparatively slim the pickings were, when it came to finding a hottie who wanted to settle down.
Especially if you wanted one who could hold an intelligent conversation.
"Oh, really?" Maura said, loud enough to drag my attention off the escalating snow-throwing battle outside. I turned to see her dancing a little jig behind the register, and pressing her lips together like she was trying not to laugh. "Oh, I'll definitely make sure Cal gets that message. Gingers really are the cutest aren't they?"
I ran a hand through my dark-red hair self-consciously and sent her a death-scowl. She didn't seem fazed.
"Yes, and such a genius. I'm so lucky to work with him!" Maura pressed an exuberant hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes at me.
I shook my head at her slowly, promising retribution.
"Oh, are you kidding? No, we are the ones who were lucky to find you! Uh huh. I'll make sure Cal has your number. You stay cool down there in Phoenix, Tanya! Alrighty. Bye-bye."
"One of these days I'm going to fire you," I told her morosely as she hung up.
"Oh, please." Maura smiled down at her paper and made one final note. "You wouldn't last a day. All these brides and grooms calling you multiple times, like maybe you somehow lost their orders. Flirting with you when they come in for their tastings, because they just can't help themselves. You should give me a raise."
I rolled my eyes and went back to unnecessarily straightening the cute little tables and chairs my grandmother had painted back when this place had opened.
"I feel like I pay you in laughter," I grumbled.
