“We should take a closer look. Come on.”
She dragged him up to the armoire, which was roped off to keep it safe from grabby hands. There was a sign on it, he saw now.
Find Your Heart. Original by Marguerite. AKA, Daisy Davenport McClure.
He stared, as shocked as if the whole thing had fallen on his head. “What!”
“Why, would you look at that!” Bea exclaimed. When he looked closer, he saw that she wasn’t at all surprised, only amused. “And all this time, I thought Marguerite was some old guy in a nursing home.”
“You knew! How long have you known?”
This was why the auction tent was buzzing, he realized. Why people were clustered around the Marguerites. They were buzzing about the identification underneath it and the knowledge that the famous artist was the very unlikely Daisy McClure, who had been hiding in their midst like a proverbial fox in the henhouse.
Bea chuckled. “Not long. Only a few days, actually. Daisy called a family meeting to tell us. Apparently, someone told her that we needed to know the truth, after all this time.”
She did it. He couldn’t believe it!
He closed his eyes, his love for her as big and intricate and beautiful as that armoire.
“Thank you, by the way,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“I put the pieces together. Daisy told me you knew. And she also said someone told her it was past time she shared her identity with her family. Since you’re the only one who knew, as far as I can tell, I am guessing you are the one who persuaded her to tell Stella and me.”
“I figured the people she loves best ought to be fully aware of how amazing she is,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, I like you, Mr. Ellison,” Bea said, giving his arm a little hug. “And you’re right. She is quite remarkable. She could have had a press conference or appeared on a local news show but it was her idea to go public here, where she could make the most impact for Open Hearts.”
He decided since Bea knew this much, she ought to know the rest. “You do know she is the mysterious benefactor who is always making a donation to Open Hearts right when the foundation most needs it, don’t you?”
Bea blinked. “I do now. Funny. That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
His love for Daisy seemed to grow with every passing second, expanding to fill the large tent. He had to see her. He had to apologize for his words and he had to tell her how very amazing she was.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where I might find Daisy, would you?”
She gave him a careful gaze, protective of her sister, he could tell. “Not for certain, but I have an idea. Stella and I wanted her to stick around here in the tent, but after the first hour of people mobbing her once the news became public, she freaked out a little and said she had to go for a while. She plans to be back tonight when the auction ends, to meet the winning bidders. If I had to say she was anywhere, I would guess she’s gone home. Back to Pear Tree Cottage.”
“I have to go,” he said, already heading for the exit.
Her laughter followed him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
38
DAISY
It was fairly depressing to discover her courage had its limits.
She had managed to find the strength to put her actual name on her artwork. She even managed to hang around for a while and speak with the public as people started to find out.
But all those questions, all those stares and whispers, had become more than she could bear. Yes, it had been gratifying to hear how people loved her work, but it had also been terrifying.
She had finally escaped, though she knew she should be helping Stella and the rest of the committee with the inevitable headaches that came from throwing a huge festival like Arts & Hearts on the Cape. She only needed an hour or two to regain a little equilibrium then she would return.
She had retreated to her terrace, to the spectacular coast view of sea and mountains and sky that inevitably calmed her spirit. A glass of iced tea and a magazine that had come in the mail that morning were on the table beside her. She hadn’t opened the magazine yet. She needed to simply be for a few more moments.
With her eyes closed, she was doing some deep breathing when she gradually became aware she wasn’t alone.
Her eyelids flew open and she jerked her head around to see the man who hadn’t left her mind in weeks walking toward her around the side of the house. So much for calming breaths. Her entire body went on alert, her pulse pounding and her heartbeat kicking wildly.
She rose. “Gabe! Cruz told me he was taking off this morning. I assumed you would have gone, too.”
He didn’t answer at first, only continued walking toward her with that intense, almost fierce look in his eyes.
She suddenly remembered the first time she had seen him, in the toothpaste aisle of the grocery store in town a lifetime ago. He had looked at her in much the same way as if he wanted to burn her image into his mind forever.
Then, as now, that look made everything inside her shiver.
“I didn’t leave.”
“I...see that.”
“Instead, I went to the Arts and Hearts Festival, where your sister dragged me into the auction tent.”
“Did she?”
Her hands were shaking. She told herself it was because she wanted to strangle Bea. She loved her sister but Beatriz Romero needed to stop matchmaking. She was wading into things she knew nothing about.
Gabe stepped forward and picked up one of those trembling hands and did something that completely stole her breath. He raised her fingers up and pressed his mouth to the back of her hand, then did the same to the other hand. No one had ever done anything so impossibly, heartbreakingly sweet to her before.
“You did it! Marguerite went public.”
She was lost. Completely in love with him.
“It was time. A wise person I knew told me it was time I stopped hiding.”
“Sounds like a smart-ass know-it-all.”
“He’s okay.”
She wanted to slide her arms around his waist and hold on tight but a kernel of fear, small and ugly, held her back. Oh, for crying out loud. She had just faced her biggest fear, going public with her art. She could certainly admit the truth to Gabe. She smiled a little, suddenly completely at peace. These wild, wondrous feelings between them were nothing to fear. They were real and right and perfect.
“Actually,” she said softly, “he’s better than okay. He happens to be the man I am in love with.”
A fierce light leaped into his gaze, making their green depths glitter in the sunlight, brighter than the ocean. “Well, then. He’s a lucky guy.”
She couldn’t resist. “Why do you insist on speaking of yourself in the third person?”
He laughed, the sound rippling out across her terrace. “I would very much like to kiss you right now, Marguerite slash Daisy slash the woman who owns my heart.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He reached for her and kissed her, his mouth warm and sweet on hers. She wanted to cry at the sheer perfection of the moment, here in the sunshine in a place she loved, perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
After a long moment he lifted his head. “I love you, in case you didn’t pick that up yet.”
She smiled and kissed him back, all her doubts and insecurities floating away. She still didn’t quite understand how it had happened, what he saw in her, but she wasn’t going to question the gift.
“I might start believing it, after I’ve heard it a few hundred more times.”
He smiled against her mouth. “I’d better get started, then. I love you, Daisy. I love your smile and your kindness and the way you watch over your family. I love your earlobes and your organizational skills and the way you dance to music when
you think no one is looking.”
“My earlobes?”
He sucked softly on one. “You have very sexy earlobes.”
Her insides trembled. “If you say so.”
He laughed at her tone. “Trust me.”
She did. She trusted him and she loved him. He had seen her when no one else did, the heart of her. The messy, emotional, wild part of her she was slowly beginning to embrace. They still had things to work through. His job, for instance. He would need to travel. That was unavoidable for a man so gifted at documenting the world, but she could provide a warm, happy place for him to come home to here at Pear Tree Cottage where he was deeply loved.
She might even think about getting a dog.
She kissed him, joy, pure and bright and lovely, singing through her like the murmur of the sea.
EPILOGUE
DAISY
The babies were coming.
Daisy rushed into the hospital, Gabe at her side. They hurried up to the second floor, straight to the labor and delivery unit.
Bea was in the waiting room, Shane holding her hand and Mari reading a book next to him.
“There you are!” her sister exclaimed, jumping up. “Finally.”
“My fault.” Gabe gave her a hug before reaching out to shake Shane’s hand. The two men had become good friends over the past year, since the summer that had changed everything. “Daisy was picking me up at the airport when you called and my flight was late.”
So much for the passionate reunion with him she had been fantasizing about since he left town three weeks earlier. She had barely had time to kiss him and hold him for a wonderful fleeting moment before Bea’s frantic call had them rushing back to Cape Sanctuary.
There would be time, she told herself. One delicious thing she had discovered about being with a man who traveled often: during the times he was home with her, they never wasted a moment.
“How is she?” Daisy demanded.
“Stella is fine,” Bea said. “Ed, however, is a mess.”
She grinned. “You’re kidding. The OB-GYN is freaking out about his wife being in labor?”
“Right?” Bea grinned back. “I’ve never seen him so pale and he can’t seem to let go of her hand.”
“Have you been in to see her yet?”
“Yes. We just came out a moment ago. She was having a pretty bad contraction and Shane was getting a little weak-kneed.”
“Was not,” he protested.
“Was, too.” Bea grinned and kissed him to take the sting out of her words.
If he was weak-kneed at Stella’s contractions, Daisy couldn’t wait to see how Shane reacted when Bea had a baby. They hadn’t announced it yet but she had a strong suspicion it wouldn’t be long. Maybe they were waiting until the twins were born.
The two of them were so perfect together, Daisy couldn’t believe it had taken them both so long to figure it out. Shane clearly adored Bea and treated her exactly as she wanted a man to care for her younger sister. He was sweet, caring and supportive.
No one had been surprised when they married only a few months after Stella and Ed.
Even Cruz seemed happy these days. He was seriously dating a woman he had met the summer before when he went to Mexico after his concert for the Arts & Hearts on the Cape Festival. Nora was a marine biologist, smart and funny and sassy. Daisy liked her very much. More important, Bea did, as well, especially since Mari and Rowan both wanted to follow in Nora’s career footsteps.
“I’m going in,” Daisy said.
“I’ll go with you,” Bea said. “They recommend only a couple of visitors at a time. Why don’t you guys wait out here? Do you mind, Gabe?”
“Not at all.”
Shane stretched his legs out in the waiting area, all too happy to comply with that, and Gabe took the other sofa.
The labor and delivery room was state-of-the-art, warm and comfortable. Stella sat in a recliner playing cards with Rowan while Ed stood protectively next to her, the dear man.
Their aunt’s face lit up when she spotted them. Stella reached out a hand. “There are my girls.”
Daisy kissed the top of her head, then hugged Ed and Rowan in turn. She loved these two so much, not only because they were terrific people but especially for the light and happiness they had brought into Stella’s world.
“How are you doing?” Daisy asked.
“Great. It won’t be long now,” Stella said. Her features tightened for just a moment, clearly in the grip of a contraction.
This pregnancy had been unexpected but no less joyful. Only a few months after losing her first pregnancy, Stella had discovered she was expecting again, this time without means of artificial insemination or any help from fertility treatments. She and Ed had already been talking about marriage. The pregnancy had accelerated the whole process and they had a beautiful wedding at the little chapel in town where Stella worshipped.
Daisy had sobbed like a baby watching Stella walk down the aisle toward the man who had loved her for decades.
Only a few weeks after their honeymoon, Stella had discovered she was not only pregnant but also expecting twins, reinforcing Daisy’s belief in the old adage about being careful what you wished for.
Throughout the pregnancy, Stella had glowed. This one was uneventful, almost too easy, which was a relief.
Ed had still been a nervous wreck throughout.
“Can we get you anything?” Bea asked. “Ice chips? Chewing gum? Anything?”
“I’m absolutely fine. This might take some time. You know you girls don’t have to stay here through the whole labor and delivery.”
“Are you kidding?” Daisy exclaimed. “You’re stuck with us. We’re not going anywhere.”
“These are our babies, too,” Bea said.
“The good news is, there will be two little ones to cuddle afterward,” Daisy said. “That means I get to hold one and the rest of you can fight over the other.”
Ed smiled, looking moderately calmer. “By the way, we love the new cribs from Marguerite.”
“They are absolutely stunning,” Stella said. “We have the most gorgeous nursery in the world. Thank you, my dear.”
“And when the babies outgrow them, we can always sell them to cover their college tuitions,” Ed teased.
“We are not selling them,” Stella said firmly. “I have a feeling Bea might be needing at least one of them sooner, rather than later. And who knows? Daisy might want one, too, down the line.”
“She could always paint two more,” Rowan pointed out with irrefutable logic.
The idea of a baby wasn’t as astonishing or terrifying as it might once have been. Not yet, but someday soon. She and Gabe were engaged, planning a wedding at Pear Tree Cottage in April, one of the most beautiful months there.
“Is everything ready for the festival?” Stella asked. “I’m sorry about the timing of this.”
“Don’t worry about anything,” Bea said. “Daisy and I have the whole thing under control.”
Had it really been a year since the last festival? This had been a year of change, of growth. Marriages, second chances, love. Soon two new lives would join their family.
She and Bea visited for a few more moments, mostly to distract Stella from the pain and make sure she knew they were there for moral support.
“You don’t have to leave,” Stella said when Daisy saw she was having another hard contraction and nudged Bea that it was time to go.
“We won’t stay in the delivery room,” Daisy said. “This is a special moment for you two and Rowan to share, but we’ll be out in the waiting room when you need us.”
Stella didn’t answer, breathing through the pain, but Ed nodded, gave them a distracted hug, then turned back to his wife.
After they walked out, Daisy stood in the doorway of the waiting room, her heart ca
tching at the sight of Gabe asleep in one of the chairs. He had been traveling for hours, just to make it back to her.
The moment she sat down beside him, his eyes opened and a lump rose in her throat at the sheer love in them.
Only an hour later Rowan rushed in. “They’re here! A boy and a girl! The girl came first. She has a ton of hair. The boy came like two minutes later. He’s smaller but cried harder. They’re both so cute.”
“How’s Stella?” Shane asked.
“She’s great. She said she’s ready for everyone to go back. She wants her whole family around her.”
They rose together, all the people Daisy loved best in the world. This time the emotions in her heart spilled over and she grabbed a tissue out of a box on one of the side tables. Gabe pulled her close, his arms warm and familiar.
As she sank into them, she couldn’t believe she had ever been so determined not to need him or anyone. He had told her once that life was enriched by forging connections with people, letting them into her heart.
Because of these people, hers was more beautiful, more colorful, more perfect, than anything Marguerite could ever dream of painting.
* * *
ISBN-13: 9781488096396
The Cliff House
Copyright © 2019 by RaeAnne Thayne
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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