by Olivia Miles
“What if it rains on Thursday when you have us scheduled to go to the beach?” Heather shook her head and handed the paper back to Kim. “I appreciate your intentions, Kim, but vacations don’t work like this. I think you’re getting it confused with your wedding planning.”
“I thought your mother-in-law was doing all your wedding planning?” Andrea said.
She’d said it matter-of-factly, and that was the impression, of course, but Kim’s mouth pinched and her green eyes blazed as she slammed the paper back into her bag. “Forget it. Do what you want on this trip, but at least I tried. At least I’m the one making time for my sisters, not always wondering if they’re actually going to show up.”
“Hey,” Andrea’s voice softened. “I didn’t mean to offend you—”
“You never do, and that’s just the point. To be honest, I’m not even sure why you came on this trip if you’re just going to spend the entire time searching for cell reception.”
“I have a career,” Andrea said firmly.
“Of course. Like you’d ever let us forget.”
“Oh, sort of the way you never let us forget that you’re getting married?” Andrea raised an eyebrow.
Kim opened her mouth to say something and then, seeming to think the better of it, closed it again. Moments later, she was running up the stairs, followed by the sound of her door closing.
“Too harsh?” Andrea winced. “But you know it’s all she talks about!”
It was true, and Heather was guilty of being a little exhausted by the topic too, but she wouldn’t go so far as to point it out the way that Andrea did. That was the difference between them. One of many.
And this was why Heather had a problem with Kim’s agenda. It wasn’t that she was opposed to spending time with her sisters or going to the beach or into town, or on a bike ride. It was that she’d learned all too well that when plans were made or counted on, it just led to hurt feelings and a whole lot of disappointment.
9
Andrea
Andrea woke to the sound of her morning alarm, and it wasn’t until after she’d turned it off and flung back the lightweight quilt that she remembered that despite it being Monday, she wasn’t going into the office today. There would be no normal routine: no coffee brewing while she dressed for the day, poured it into an insulated thermos, and speed-walked to the bus stop. No skimming her emails while she sat in her usual seat on public transit, near the back exit, so she could make an easy departure, even though, at six in the morning, the city streets were still very empty.
Instead, she had flicked on her bedside light and took her phone off the charger, hoping to skim emails until she was reminded that there was no reception to be found in this entire house, and she had searched every corner of it yesterday, even the dusty attic where their mother kept her parents’ old treasures.
Frustrated, Andrea flicked off the light and tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. She could go downstairs, find a book on one of the shelves in the dark-paneled library off the dining room—it had been a long time since she’d read anything other than trade journals. Now the reminder that she wouldn’t be appearing in one herself any time soon loomed heavy, and with a burst of panic, she pushed out of the bed and walked to the window. As the eldest daughter, her room had been assigned first, one of only two at the front of the house, the other being her parents’ and before that, her grandparents. The water of Lake Huron could be seen through the tree branches that graced the glass. She’d always loved the contrast of colors here on the island, how the blue water mixed with the vibrant green grass, interrupted only by bright bursts of flowers. It would be another beautiful day. She may as well start it now with a run.
She did her usual lap around the island, but she slowed her pace when she rounded the western curve when the rocky cliffs to her left became wooded lots where large homes sat high on the bluff above the water, their views panoramic. These homes had always caught her attention as a child, then causing her to slow her bike speed, take in the gables and the paned windows, and the aura of a story behind the walls, waiting to be explored.
By the time her sisters came downstairs in search of coffee at half past eight, Andrea had already showered, made her bed, made coffee, and then, after consuming three cups, made it again, for her sisters. Still, she couldn’t shake her agitation.
It was Monday morning. She should be at work. Everyone else would be in the office, and she didn’t like feeling out of the loop.
“I need to get some work done today,” she announced, when she had paced the house, the yard, tried to relax on the porch, and found she couldn’t. She’d work on the Morrison project—she already had a clear idea for it, but it would keep her busy, and if she could finish it while she was here, she’d be one step ahead when she returned to the office.
Kim looked at her with something close to hurt in her eyes. “It’s supposed to be warm today.” She didn’t mention the schedule. It was a good idea and Andrea appreciated it—she might even refer to it if her anxiety continued. But today was Monday. She needed to check in with her assistant, or at least, try to stay updated.
“Let’s meet up for dinner,” Andrea offered. She knew she owed Kim an apology, but the sting had gone two ways. She shouldn’t have to apologize for her career any more than Kim should have to refrain from discussing her wedding. They each had important things in their lives. “We could go to the Lighthouse Bistro.”
She’d hoped that would smooth things over, but Kim only shrugged in response and stretched her legs onto the wicker coffee table as she stared at the lake.
Andrea fought back the urge to check the time on her phone and turned to stare out over the lawn instead. Even the view of the water across the road couldn’t calm her. Jace had probably spent the weekend golfing with Arthur while she was traveling up to this remote island. At least if she’d stayed in the city she might have kept things moving toward the promotion: gone out for lunches, networked at the expensive gym where she had met more than one client over the years. Instead, in a moment of weakness, she’d let herself be talked into coming here.
Her eyes flitted to a ferry that was crossing the water now, her mind starting to form an idea. She could always go over to Blue Harbor for the day. Spend some time at a café there, where she was sure to have a strong signal on the mainland.
But it would be so tempting to climb into Heather’s car and drive back to Chicago. She could be there by nightfall. Tomorrow morning she could wake up in her own bed. She could—
“I understand if you don’t want to be here,” Kim said, cutting into her thoughts. “But all I can think of is that Mom would have given anything to be here with us now. The least we can do is have a good time in her honor.”
Shame filled Andrea and she looked away from the water. From the life that existed on the other side of it.
“We could come back here after dinner and play cards. The three of us this time.” Andrea gave Kim a small smile. A peace offering, even if last night’s dinner had already covered that. They hadn’t discussed their father at all. Instead, they’d eaten toast with cheese or jam, and sat in quasi-comfortable silence, mostly wondering aloud about Heather.
Andrea looked at her middle sister now. It was very clear that Heather still had feelings for Billy. But then, Heather had always been an open book.
Until recently, she thought, feeling a little sad at that realization.
Heather set down her coffee mug. “I’ll cook tonight. The view from the bistro is better during the daylight anyway. Maybe we can go into town together today, Kim. We can get sandwiches at the Island Bakery.”
For a moment, Andrea was tempted to join them. She could practically taste the large, handmade sandwiches on the fresh crusty bread that could be smelled baking for blocks down the sidewalk.
Heather gave Kim a little smile, clearly trying to repair the damage from last night when her little outburst had been so out of character. She was good at that, keeping things
in stride, going with the flow, which was why it was so strange that she was so quick to shift moods these days.
Well, Andrea couldn’t think about that now. Her sisters would spend time together, meaning the pressure was off her to be social. She carried her mug back into the kitchen, washed it and set it to dry, and then hurried up the stairs to pack her tote with her laptop, power cord, and her planner. There were several inns and some large hotels on the island, where she knew their internet access would be strong and steady. She’d park herself in a lobby, or maybe even at the bar or restaurant. She’d need something quiet, not too overwhelmed with tourists soaking in the last few weeks of summer.
She decided on the Lakeside Inn—it was a favorite from their childhood, with its sweeping views of the lake and mouth-watering cinnamon rolls that were a summer staple, especially on lazy Sunday mornings, and it was close enough to town that if she needed to move locations, she could easily do so without interruptions.
She hurried out the door and down the steps, feeling better already with the sun warming her skin and reflecting off the water. Her pace was quick, as it usually was, and with each step she felt more like her old self, back in control of her future, capable of getting things back on track.
She was at the inn within fifteen minutes, only mildly perspiring despite the morning breeze, her shoulder starting to cramp from the weight of her bag. She looked up at the front of the hotel, seeing that it had been spruced up since the last time she’d visited, but then, that had been at least four years back and probably even more since she’d paid a visit to this place. She remembered that there was a restaurant at the back of the lobby with big windows that looked out onto the water, and a long porch with tables that might make a perfect place to set up her office.
She checked her phone signal. Still weak. She’d have to ask someone for the hotel guest internet password.
She hurried along the brick path to the front doors, surprised once inside to see that the dark carpet and woodwork had been replaced with lighter, cooler shades of blue and green that gave the entire space a fresh and new feel. Had Joan Kessler done all this? Andrea’s mother hadn’t mentioned anything about the woman who ran this inn doing a major renovation, and her mother kept up on all the happenings on the island, either through her annual visits or conversations with other summer people or locals that they’d come to know over the years. But then, Andrea remembered her mother hadn’t been back to the island in two years.
And, like Kim had pointed out, she never would come back again.
With a stiff upper lip, Andrea comforted herself with the knowledge that she was here on a mission. Work kept her mind from drifting to dark places, and she was eager to get seated. She followed the smell of cinnamon rolls to the back of the inn, pleased that some things about the place hadn’t changed, even if she had to admit the changes were a vast improvement. Subtle, but fresh. In place of the dark and fading carpet and furnishings, the space felt light and airy, with shades of blue that drew on the lake view out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining room at the end of the lobby.
The back porch was unchanged, the furniture was still the same whitewashed wood but spruced up with some striped pillows and cheerful centerpieces of bright pink hydrangeas. Happy to be drawn back to a time when she would sit here with a cold glass of lemonade, giggling into her straw with her sisters and mother, Andrea decided to push her luck and hope that the internet access reached just beyond the doors.
She settled at a table that was far from children or other distractions, choosing one near the edge of the porch where only a few people sat quietly reading or taking in the view.
“May I help you?”
She didn’t need to scan the menu. What she really wanted was a cinnamon roll, but she didn’t need to get crumbs all over her work and icing on her keyboard. She’d had enough coffee to feel jittery, and she was warm from her speed walk over here. “A lemonade, please. And do you have internet access here?”
The man motioned to a card on the center of the table, and Andrea sighed deeply with relief.
She had managed to check all her texts (which were disturbingly sparse) and was just about to fire off a well-drafted message to Nicole when she felt someone staring at her. She looked up to see a man absentmindedly sipping coffee and watching her with amusement.
“Sorry,” he said, realizing he’d been caught. He grinned. It was a very nice grin, technically speaking, but she still barely registered it. Her email was loading now, and her eye caught something that pulled her attention, making her frown. A senior staff meeting was scheduled for this Wednesday. And she would miss it.
She licked her lower lip as her heart began to pound. Maybe Nicole could give her the notes. But then, if Andrea wasn’t there, why would Nicole have access to the agenda? She could ask Pamela, perhaps. Yes, she would at least want to keep Andrea updated, but she had also been strangely strict about her taking space. Coming back refreshed—as if such a thing were possible. That meant relaxing first, and how could she be expected to relax when she had not only lost the Glenwood project to Jace of all people, but that he was her primary competition for the partnership seat!
No, she would wait a few days at least before contacting Pamela. It seemed that a cooling-off period was in order, but it felt more like she was being pushed out.
She reached for her spiral-bound planner to see if this had been planned and she had just forgotten, when her wrist hit the side of her glass, spilling the lemonade over the table.
Quickly, she pulled back her laptop and reached for the sole napkin that had been used as a coaster and was now soaked through.
“Here, let me.” She looked up to see the man smiling at her as he quickly helped sop up the mess.
“Thanks,” she said, giving him a tight smile. “I’m usually not so clumsy. I got distracted with work.”
“Maybe you should set the work aside for a bit and enjoy this spectacular view.”
She gave him a wry look. Unsolicited advice was rarely appreciated, especially when this man didn’t have a clue about the stressors in her life.
“I’m afraid that I don’t have that luxury,” she said. “And I’ve seen it before, so…”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I live here year-round and it never gets boring.” It was a casual comment, one delivered with a quirk of that grin, but Andrea felt her defenses prickle. Her sisters didn’t understand her work. Even Pamela didn’t seem to understand its importance to her. She didn’t need to explain herself to a stranger, especially one who, from the looks of it, couldn’t even begin to imagine the pressures of corporate life.
“Year-round?” She looked him up and down, liking what she saw, not that it mattered. She didn’t recognize him, and over the years she and her family had come to know not only the summer people but also the locals. Only a few hundred residents lived year-round on Evening Island—the winters were harsh and the ferry stopped crossing in the coldest months, putting tourism at a standstill. Some islanders stayed on the mainland for that time, in Blue Harbor or the neighboring Pine Falls. But this guy lived here year-round.
Yep, he didn’t get it.
“Hard for you to imagine?” He grabbed a stack of napkins from a nearby table and finished drying hers.
“Hard to imagine that pace of life, that’s for sure.” Here the days were long and carefree, and while she was sure this man worked, he couldn’t possibly imagine the demands and responsibilities that came with climbing the corporate ladder, shuffling through the city, putting in long days and, some months of the year, only seeing the light of day from her office window. Grabbing dinner on the go, or sometimes, forgoing it altogether.
“There’s something to be said for slowing down and enjoying life, especially in a place as beautiful as Evening Island.”
Andrea adjusted her laptop on the table and stared properly at the man. He was attractive, probably knew it too, because he certainly didn’t lack confidence.
�
��Well,” she said tightly. “Not everyone is in a position to slow down. Maybe I’ll consider it in about fifty years.” That would make her eighty-three, she realized with a small frown. Would she ever retire? What would she have without her work?
“Shame,” he said. “I’m happy to point out some of the best parts of the island. I can guarantee you that they’ll be far more interesting than anything you can see on that screen.”
Andrea pursed her lips and sat back down. “Thanks, but I’ve seen the island, and now I have to see to these emails.” There weren’t many. A few from clients, who had no doubt received her automatic out-of-office reply. She’d reply anyway. Of course, she would. And she’d set up some calls too, now that she knew she could get cell reception here through their wireless connection. It was worth the trouble—even the trouble of this man.
He gave a disappointed shrug. “If you change your mind—”
She glanced up at him, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “I won’t.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. He went back to his table where his iced tea was sweating through the glass.
Andrea tried to compose an email to Nicole, but she couldn’t even form a sentence clearly, not when her mind was spinning and her excuse seemed lame and that man—she could still feel his eyes on her.
“What is that you do?” he asked when they locked eyes again.
“I’m an architect,” she said. Then, she added, “In Chicago.”
“Ah.” He nodded as if he should have already known this. “Well, that explains it.”
Now she was getting annoyed. She bit back a sigh and leaned back in her chair, looking at him directly. “Explains what exactly?”
“Oh, just that here you are, on a beautiful summer day, on one of the most beautiful islands in the country, with a view like this.” He swept his hand over the rail to the lakefront that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. “And your mind is still on city time. I get it.”
