Runaway Tide

by Julie Carobini

  The manicurist sat down and examined her nails, no doubt realizing the enormity of her task. “You have lovely nails,” she said instead. “Let’s get started. Shall we?”

  Two hours later Meg waited for Jackson in the lobby, her body fully relaxed and ready for lunch. Both her fingernails and toenails shone in light pink, but the massage of her extremities had been the pièce de résistance of her experience. She could not wait to get back to Sea Glass Inn and revise her proposal for a day spa.

  She watched Jackson stride across the lobby, straight for her. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, beautiful.”

  She swooned a little.

  “You okay?”

  She stood, smiling. “I’m great. And your timing is impeccable because I’m starved.”

  He chuckled. “Timing is everything.” He took her hand, noticing her fingernails. “These look beautiful, by the way.”

  They wandered to a café several blocks away and found a couple of seats near a window that looked out onto the street.

  “Luca said they had great coffee here and they won’t laugh at you if you order a cappuccino at lunch time.” He slid a menu toward her. “He also said their avocado toast is the best in Florence.”

  “Then I’ll take one order of each.”

  Food ordered, they people watched in silence.

  “You’ve been quiet. How was your meeting?”

  “Their questions were tough, but I held my own.”

  He seemed to have cut off his thoughts. She quirked a look at him. “Something’s bothering you.”

  “My sister. Pepper insisted on being on the call. I would have preferred to keep her out of negotiations, but she does have more than a bird’s-eye view of our expenditures, so I relented.”

  “And she was her regular self.”

  “Not really. She was almost charming. Asked about their families, told a few well-placed jokes. I almost wondered what happened to my sister.”

  “Be thankful for small blessings then.”

  He nodded. “I am. I think we are close to finalizing the deal.”

  “What will this mean for the inns when you take on investors?”

  He took her hand in his, examining her fingers. “For one thing, it means expansion at each one, such as adding a spa at Sea Glass.”

  She nodded.

  His eyes hooked with hers. “I want you to know that I appreciate all you did for my father.”

  Where had that come from all of a sudden?

  “I’ve thought a lot about you and what you meant to him, especially over these past few months.”

  “He was a great man. Gave me my start. I can’t imagine anyone else being so patient and kind to someone so obviously green.”

  “Yes, well, after you came to work for him, he seemed to mellow. At least until …”

  “We should probably talk about that.”

  He eyed her and it sent a chill right through her deepest parts, so much that she had to look away. Emotion pricked her and he warmed her with a touch of his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She turned her chin back to him, her eyes meeting his. “I am too.”

  I never meant for things to go so far.” He pushed away from her and sat back. “That’s a lie.”

  “We were young.”

  “That’s no excuse. I took advantage of your trust—and my father knew it.” He played with her hand, which rested on the table, and quirked a look at her. “I think that’s the real reason he sent me away.”

  “It never occurred to me that William was behind your leaving.”

  “You always thought that was my decision?”

  She shrugged and pulled her hand away.

  His eyes scrutinized her, intense. “You thought I was done with you, that I’d used you and had decided to move on.”

  She swung her gaze back to his, aware that the pain of those days surely shone on her face, fresh as ever. “Yes,” she whispered. She had learned a lesson great and deep from that lapse in judgment and had not allowed history to repeat itself since.

  “Two avocado toasts?”

  Meg jerked her chin upward, startled by their server’s sudden appearance.

  “That’s us.” Jackson assisted, placing one of the plates in front of Meg and the other in front of himself.

  The woman reappeared a few seconds later with two creamy cappuccinos. “Buon appetite.”

  Meg stared at her meal. She had not lost her appetite per se, but the honesty between them had made her want to reboot, to not ignore the things from the past that hurt and confused her, and yet she wanted to begin again fresh, with a more seasoned mind, a ripened soul. This took thought and care.

  “Do you understand now that it was not my choice to leave?”

  She nodded.

  He sliced into his toast, but did not eat. “I’m sure what Domenic said is true, that my father wanted me to work under someone else so that I would not be the guy with the silver spoon in his mouth when it was my turn to take over.” He dropped his chin and shook his head. “But taking advantage of his protégé, that was all too much for him, I think.”

  “He never said a word to me.”

  Jackson reached for her hand. “He had too much respect for you, Meg. He probably knew that for you, it was a momentary lapse. That you cared for me and got caught up in the moment. But for me? It was a character flaw. And I have to say—I believe my father was right.”

  “Then I’m grateful that we have been given this chance to make a U-turn.”

  He cradled her hand in his, tender, yet more fiercely. “Me too, Meg. Me too.”

  * * *

  “Eat more brioche and your foot will heal faster, Meghan.” Elena said this with a straight face.

  “I think she means it,” Domenic said from the side of his mouth. “In fact, I think I’ll have myself another.”

  Elena slapped his hand. “Two is your limit!”

  “Ah, but my love, I have only had one.” He looked nonplussed.

  “Eh! You may have one more, but that is it!”

  Jackson winked at Meg over his cappuccino. She tried to smile, but melancholy at his leaving today had thrown a blanket over her mood. A glance at the time told her he was pushing it—he’d have to leave soon to make it.

  “Well, son, I am sad to see you go, but I cannot say that I am unhappy that Meg will be staying on with us a few more days.”

  Elena cut in. “Yes, we will have her all to ourselves. We will take you to see a show, oh, and you must shop with me near Ponte Vecchio.” She flipped one shoulder toward Domenic, dissing him in jest. “He does not share our taste for the finer things.”

  Meg giggled, thankful for the distraction.

  Jackson’s phone lit up on the table. She glanced at the screen. “It’s Pepper. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

  He sighed. “Probably should get this since I’m going to be on a plane for a while.” He punched the answer button. “Hey, Pepper.”

  A barrage of profanity loud enough for Meg to hear greeted him. Thankfully, Domenic had stepped into the kitchen for coffee. He and Elena were laughing together over the Moka pot.

  Jackson’s brows bunched, his eyes focused on the table. He sat there, listening to Pepper go on and on. Though Meg could not make out the words, she could tell by the tone that his sister was not greeting him with happy news.

  He let out a breath and slid out from beneath the table. With a quick look at Meg, Jackson pointed toward the bedroom where she’d been staying. He would be taking the call in there.

  She nodded, but pointed at her wrist to remind him of the time.

  “So,” Elena said, her hands clasped in front of her. “Today you and I will go shopping, eh? Take your mind off of Jackson leaving. And then we will stop for a sandwich as big as your head.” She demonstrated this by holding her hands in front of her like two half circles facing each other.

  “I would love to, Elena. Thank you for the invitation.” She
finished up her breakfast, casting several glances in the direction of the bedroom. She stood to bring her dishes to the sink, but Elena waved her away, taking the plate and cup from her hands.

  Jackson finally emerged, his expression unreadable but decidedly less amiable than before. He hitched his briefcase over his shoulder.

  Elena clamored over to him and pulled him into a hug. “Aw, you come back and see us. Don’t be a stranger!”

  He hugged her back and then shook Domenic’s hand, pumping it with gratitude. His eyes caught Meg’s. “Walk me out?”

  They took the elevator this time, silence caught between them. She hoped it was the stress of goodbye, rather than something ominous happening at the hotel. Maybe she should cut her vacation early, she thought, and get back to the business of selling hotel space.

  The elevator door opened, whining and grinding as it did. She stepped out and Jackson followed, but she did not spot a driver waiting for him.

  She shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “Doesn’t look like your car is here.”

  “It isn’t. I wanted to talk to you alone for a minute.”

  She smiled up at him, but his expression was guarded. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced out onto the busy street, his face a jumble of expressions. Finally, he swung a look back at her. “I know about the checks to your mother.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  His Adams apple bobbed and he tapped his foot. “That’s why Pepper was calling—to tell me about several years’ worth of checks written out to Deena.”

  Meg shook her head, disbelieving. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Look, whatever my father was doing … writing checks to your mother was his business. I’m not saying there was anything underhanded in the transactions.”

  “I said that I have no idea what this is about, Jackson. You do believe me, don’t you?”

  He shifted. His voice went quiet. “I want to.”

  “But?”

  He swung a look away from her again, exhaling. “Your mother showing up at your home suddenly, well, that was kind of strange.”

  “My mother is one of the least conventional people I know.”

  He nodded. “Listen, I don’t want to fight about this. I wanted to let you know what Pepper told me so you could …”

  “Confess to something?”

  His eyes flashed.

  “Because if that’s what you’re looking for, you have the wrong girl. My mother showed up to help me with my broken foot. There is nothing odd in that, I’d say. If, for some reason, there is any truth to Pepper’s latest accusation, I will get to the bottom of it. I will buy international calling and phone my mother today.” She tightened her hands into fists. “But my guess is this is just another one of Pepper’s fantasies. She’s never liked me and that’s her prerogative.”

  He stood beside her, stoic. “She says the bank sent her copies of the checks.”

  She brushed away an angry tear with the back of her hand. “Who cares what she says? I can’t figure out why you so easily believe her after professing your-your … feelings for me.”

  A car pulled up in front of them. Jackson reached out for her, but she recoiled. “Meg.”

  She would not cry … she would not cry … “Go.”

  “Not like this.”

  Her body stiffened, fighting off emotion.

  Jaw set, he threw his suitcase and briefcase into the back seat then leaned on the open back seat door. “We will—we’ll figure all this out. I’m sure of it.”

  She watched his car pull away, making its way through the crowded street. Right now, she wasn’t sure of anything. Or anyone.

  * * *

  Meg could not fathom how she managed to keep from collapsing into a puddle of emotion while shopping with Elena. All the years of standing in booths at trade shows with a smile on autopilot helped. Admittedly, Elena’s antics kept her occupied, too.

  After putting on red stilettos: “You think Domenic will think I’m a siren?”

  In a hat with feathers: “I will wear this whenever I am on Twitter. Tweet-tweet.”

  They returned home worn out, their bellies full after a stop for gelato. Meg curled up on the lounge chair by the window overlooking the street while Elena took her afternoon nap. She fiddled with her phone, absentmindedly tapping the screen. Where had Pepper’s outlandish accusations come from? They made no sense.

  “ … a lot of stuff that shouldn’t be brought up.”

  What kind of stuff had her mother been talking about that night? Surely there could be no truth to Pepper’s craziness? Her mother didn’t even know William.

  With a burst of frustration, she tapped her carrier app and purchased international calling, then called her mother.

  “Meghan?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Hi.”

  “This call must be costing you a fortune. Is something wrong?

  “Must there always be something wrong when I call you?”

  “I knew it. Something is wrong! Is it your foot? Tell me it’s not broken again.”

  “My foot is fine.” No sense mentioning the swelling after a day of museum and piazza touring.

  “A wonderful relief. Are you ready to come home? I can’t imagine Italy is any nicer than where you live.”

  “Not quite yet. She hesitated. “Still so much to see and do here.”

  “That’s nice, dear.”

  “But there is something I want to ask you about. This may seem strange, but I heard, well, I heard something about William that I have to ask you about.”

  “William. You mean, Mr. Riley?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can ask away, but I’m not sure how I can help since I never met him.”

  She nodded. Yes, she’d never met him, which made this question all the more ridiculous.

  Meg inhaled and puffed the air back out. “I’ve been asked to explain why William may have been sending you … money.”

  “Who would ask you such a thing? Not Jackson, I hope.”

  She had not answered Meg’s question.

  “It doesn’t matter who, Mama. Did, for some reason, William send you money for something? I know you didn’t know him, but—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Her mother’s answer was abrupt yet firm and she could feel her vehemence from thousands of miles away. It was enough for her. It had to be.

  “Thank you. I’m so sorry to have had to call.”

  “Now don’t you worry about this one more minute. You finish your trip of a lifetime and let that crazy thought lay buried.”

  Some things are better left buried …

  Meg hung up, grateful to put this issue to rest, even as questions tickled her memory in its deepest places.

  Chapter 16

  “Are you sure you want to go to Cinque Terre on this trip?” Liddy had asked her. “No cars, Meg. Did you know that? The villages are for walkers and hikers. What about your foot?”

  “At this point, who cares?” She leaned against the upholstered headboard in her room. Domenic and Elena had long since gone to bed, but sleep had eluded her. “I forgot to mention, I have a cane now.”

  “Borrowed from your elderly landlords?”

  She groaned. “A gift from Jackson. Anyway, I’ll bring it with me for support. Honestly, I feel okay. The book you gave me inspired this trip in the first place and I’m not leaving here without seeing those pink and yellow houses.”

  She took the early train the next morning from Santa Maria Novella station in Florence, and fortunately for her foot, she found a seat. If she had joined the train at a later stop, she would likely have been doomed to stand with her belongings among a crush of tourists at one end of the train car. She arrived in Vernazza, one of the five villages, nearly three hours later, hitched her beach bag over one shoulder, and disembarked.

  In some ways, she imagined this is how she would have felt if she had taken a gap year after high school and traveled the
world. Of course, she neither took a gap year nor attended college—she started working instead and climbed the ladder of determination. Still, with her shorts and tee, walking stick, and solitary bag of possessions, she might as well have been a sojourner.

  The platform whirled with activity, sightseers studying maps and squinting to decipher the meaning of foreign words on signs. Meg breathed in the scent of the sea, though she could not yet see it. She joined the throng that snaked its way down a narrow road and strolled past shops, open-air restaurants, and beachgoers wrapped in towels, fresh from the beach.

  The road fanned out, leading to a small bay where small painted boats bobbed in a line, whimsical and inviting. Tourists splashed in the shallower waters, finding relief from the heat. She continued to stroll on a railed path to the left of the bay until the Mediterranean opened in front of her like a giant, magnificent oyster. She drew closer, mesmerized by the water, clear as glass.

  “I had that same look on my face when I first saw the water here.”

  The woman speaking to her looked to be in her mid-forties, with burnished red hair covered by a broad-brimmed straw hat. Gold pops of color on her blue-and-white cover-up shimmered in the sunlight.

  Meg answered, “It’s gorgeous here. Pristine. Have you been here many times?”

  The woman tilted her head. “No, I arrived only this morning. Stayed in La Spezia last night and took the first train here. I’ll be staying on another night. Will be difficult to leave, but I’m trying not to think of that just yet.”

  “Me either.” Meg smiled.

  “It’s almost … otherworldly.” She released a lilting laugh.

  Exactly what she needed—to be away from her ordinary world, to step away from those things that troubled her, to not have to think too hard about decisions she might soon have to make. She blinked back tears that attempted to disrupt her journey.

  Deep breath in. “Well, enjoy your visit.” Meg offered the stranger a brief wave and made her way to a curiosity of a stone building that had stood time’s test. Halfway up, she stopped to take in the view that stretched farther than she could see. Her phone buzzed in her bag, but she ignored it, unable to take her eyes off water edged by Vernazza’s footprint.