Perspiration pricked the back of her neck, and Liz reined in her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking about Laurence Broadhurst. She ran a hand over the smooth, white-and-gold flecked quartz counter and imagined a few weeks from now, this place would feel very much like home. At least she hoped it would.
David strode into the kitchen carrying two overflowing grocery bags. “I put your suitcases in the bedroom. Joss packed some food for you, said if you want to join us for meals, you’re welcome any time.”
She tried to put on a smile. “Thanks. But I’m perfectly capable—”
“Of taking care of yourself. We know.” David unpacked the bags, letting her place the items in the fridge and cupboards. Then he let out a long breath and turned her way. “You went to New York, didn’t you?”
Liz backed up and folded her arms. “Yes.”
“Without me.”
“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes and left the room.
“I can’t believe you would do that!” He barreled after her. “Why would you put yourself in danger like that? You know what that guy is capable of, Liz! I honestly don’t get—” David almost smashed into her as Liz stopped mid-stride. Matthew Stone stood in the middle of her living room.
He pushed a hand through his hair and looked a little uncomfortable. “Sorry. I knocked but . . . the door was open. I wondered if you needed any help.”
David snorted. “She doesn’t need any help. Liz prefers to do things all on her own.”
“Shut up, David.”
“Whatever, Liz.” She watched his anger fade as a smile took over his features. Of all of them, he was the quickest to forget and forgive. “Couple more boxes in the truck, then I think we’re done.” He moved past them, leaving Liz to study her new landlord.
He looked like he’d just come up from the beach. A ripped t-shirt and board shorts that had definitely seen better days gave him the look of the younger guys who took to the waves on boards and spent their nights hanging out in bars. But from what she’d seen of him so far, he didn’t seem that type.
“Surfing?”
“Nah. Went for a run.” He swung a pair of sneakers from their laces to prove the point.
“Ah.” He was a sporty one apparently. Sailing. Running. Liz liked her yoga, and the past few years she’d taken up taekwondo. It was a release for her, and she’d been surprised at how much she enjoyed it. “I’m not much of a runner.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She was good at running from the past.
She fiddled with her watch and swept her gaze over the pile of boxes in the living room. She’d forgotten how much stuff she’d accumulated since college. When she moved in with Laurence, she’d left a lot of her childhood belongings at home. David seized the opportunity to get rid of it all, hauling it down from the attic, and now her life sat around them, neatly taped and piled in dated boxes, her mother’s bold script slashed across each one of them.
And she didn’t know where to begin.
“This is it.” David added two more boxes to the pile and straightened. “I gotta get back. The kids are in fine form today; Joss needs a break. You call me later, Liz. I mean it.”
“Thanks for bringing my stuff over.” She stepped around the boxes and saw her brother to the door. She smiled sweetly and ignored his dark look. “I’m okay, let it go.”
“We’ll talk.” He nodded toward Matthew, skipped down the three front steps, and hopped into his truck.
Liz let a little tension out of her shoulders and fiddled with the switches on the wall. “Which one works the fan again? I can’t remember.” Into the first few days of October and the weather was warmer than September had been. She’d enjoy it while it lasted. Winter winds on Nantucket were not pleasant.
Matthew strode to where she stood, shot out a long, tanned arm, and flicked the middle switch. The blades of the fan began to turn, sending welcome cool air around the room.
“Ah, that’s good. Feels like summer again today, doesn’t it?” She sent him a tentative smile and twisted her hands together a little nervously. “Thanks for checking in, but I’m fine. Honestly, I don’t even know where I want to put things yet, so . . .”
“You sure?” He nodded toward the pile of paintings stacked against one wall. “Those your dad’s?” He was flipping through them before she could answer. “Wow. He was incredible. I’d forgotten.”
Liz watched with guarded interest as the man admired her father’s artwork. “Those are the ones I’d like to keep. We all picked out our favorites once we decided to renovate. We’ll hang a few back up at Wyldewood once things are up and running, but . . .” She shook her head, thinking of the cluttered art studio they’d decided to keep in what was now the private section of Wyldewood, where David and Josslyn would live. “There are so many.”
“Are you going to sell them?” He straightened, leveling his gaze.
Liz shrugged. “We really should. Evy wants us to, of course. It’s just . . . my dad has Alzheimer’s. His paintings are all we’re going to have left.”
Matthew raked fingers through his already mussed hair, apparently a habit of his when he didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes.” She glanced around the crowded room and wondered when it would feel like home. Whatever that felt like. Wyldewood was the only real home she’d ever known. She realized now how much she’d taken that for granted.
“I’m pretty handy with a hammer. I can get those hung in no time.”
Liz hesitated. She wanted to be alone right now. To lock the door and do this by herself. But there was something about his easy manner that coaxed her to let her guard down a little. “You wouldn’t by any chance be avoiding going back to your own house, would you?”
“Ha.” His grin stretched his cheeks in a most appealing way. “Mia went to the movies with some friends about an hour ago. Sitting around sipping tea and making small talk with my parents on a Sunday afternoon isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”
“Well, if putting up paintings is your idea of a good time, be my guest.” She wasn’t going to refuse the help. The last time she’d tried her hand at a hammer, it hadn’t gone so well. The memory of her bruised, black finger made her shudder. “Now, let me think.” She picked up a beach scene and pondered it. “Where should this one go?”
He had a good eye. Within an hour, paintings were hung, furniture moved around, and the comfortable living room beginning to look a little lived in. The pale green paint on the walls was even growing on her.
Liz found some water bottles in the grocery items from Josslyn and handed one to him. They stood on the patio and she watched the waves, tried to push thoughts of yesterday out of her mind, but her pulse still hadn’t quite returned to normal.
“You okay?” He leaned against the wooden railing and looked her over like he knew all her secrets. Good thing he didn’t.
“Moving is a little exhausting.” She brushed dirt off her t-shirt. She probably looked a mess. Not that it mattered.
“Yeah.” He nodded agreement. “I didn’t have much to bring over from Boston, but opening the house up again . . . my grandparents still had a ton of stuff stored here. Not sure what to do with half of it.”
“Perhaps your parents could help?” They seemed the type to know a thing or two about antiques. “Or talk to Evy. She’d know who to send you to.”
“I bet. Maybe I’ll do that.” He drank deeply from the plastic bottle. “So how do you like working at the gallery?”
Liz shrugged. Actually, she didn’t hate it. “It’s a salary. Not what I’m used to doing, but so far so good. Evy’s all right.”
“Seems to be. She’s giving Mia a break, that’s for sure.” He seemed to hesitate, then smiled. “Hey, thanks for giving her a ride the other night.”
“Oh, no problem. How did it go?” Liz tried not to appear too interested, “Mia meeting your parents.”
He shrugged, the breeze playing with his hair. “It went. It was pretty awkward. I don’t think they knew
what to say. But Mia can hold her own. Dinner was kind of boring the first night. She was unusually quiet. I was a bit disappointed.” His eyes danced with good-natured humor, and Liz couldn’t help laughing.
“Maybe she was nervous. I’m sure she’ll be back to her old self before you know it.”
“No doubt. She’s not one for holding back her thoughts.”
“Yes, I’m well aware. I wish I’d had a bit more gumption at that age.” Where had that thought come from?
“Really? You don’t strike me as having been shy a day in your life.”
“Well, not shy exactly.” Just stupid. Liz brushed hair out of her eyes, eager to end this strange conversation. He didn’t need to know the mistakes of her past. “Your niece is independent, and she’s not afraid to speak her mind. In my opinion, those are good traits. Perhaps she just needs to learn to harness them, point them in the right direction.”
“Well, Miss Carlisle, if you have any suggestions on how we help her do that, I’d love to hear them.” His smile was broad and Liz looked away. Time for him to leave. She left the patio and walked through the living room.
“Thanks for your help.” She hovered near the front door and hoped she didn’t seem rude. “Um, do you have a date yet, for them to install the alarm system?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, with everything going on, I forgot about it. I’ll arrange it on Monday. I’ll call to see what fits with your schedule.”
“Just let me know when and I’ll be here.” And make it fast.
“Okay.” He got that look again, like he knew her deepest thoughts. And fears. “So I saw your light on pretty late last night. Did you fall asleep and forget to turn it off?”
“Oh, gosh.” She hoped her cheeks weren’t blistering. “Yes, I suppose I must have. I’m so sorry. I hope it didn’t bother you.”
“I was up.” He gave that nonchalant shrug again. “Mia and I seem to share the insomnia gene. Our lights are usually on at all hours too.”
Evading the truth. That would be her first assumption if they were in the courtroom. She saw the confirmation in his eyes. “Good to know.”
“Okay, well. I’ll be right over there.” He tipped his head with that half-smile. “If you need anything, just yell.”
Liz swallowed and sincerely hoped she would not have to do that. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.”
“Please. It’s Matt. Mr. Stone is sitting in my living room.” He scrunched his nose. “Actually most people call him Professor, but that’s beside the point.”
“Yes.” Liz fiddled with an earring and sighed. She might as well tell him. “Your father. He’s a prof at Harvard, right?”
Surprise lit the man’s face in an appealing way. “Yeah, why?”
“A friend took one of his classes. I sat in on one once.”
“Small world.” He leaned forward with a skeptical expression. “So how boring was the old dinosaur?”
A smile tugged her lips. She could learn to like this guy. “He was . . . interesting.” She’d heard a few less than complimentary comments about the professor, but his son didn’t need to know that. “All right, Matt. You’ve done enough around here. You’d better head back or they’ll think I’ve kidnapped you.”
“Right.” That grin again. “Thanks for letting me hide out here a bit, Elizabeth.”
“You can call me Liz if you want, everyone does.”
“I don’t know. You seem more suited to Elizabeth, in my opinion.”
“I’ve always found the shortening of names to be highly annoying.” Liz laughed and pushed the door wider. “Have a good evening, Matthew.”
“You too, Elizabeth.” He laughed, gave a short nod, and then he was gone.
But her smile stayed.
Despite the anxiety she’d felt all night and this morning, the day was ending on a good note. She would move on. Forget Laurence Broadhurst and the damage he’d done. Somehow, she would build a new life, here on Nantucket. And somehow, God help her, she’d learn how to be happy.
twelve
MIA
Letters to Dad
Hi, Dad.
The movie sucked. Waste of nine bucks I could have spent on art supplies. Nine bucks! For almost three hours of garbage. Sheesh. I told Uncle Matt I was going with friends. I don’t actually have any. I went by myself, just to get out of here.
When I got off the bus this afternoon, I watched the way the light bounces off the glass of the windows of the house. I haven’t quite figured out how to capture light yet. But I will.
Uncle Matt saw my sketchbook the other night. He got this weird look, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He said my drawings were amazing. They’re okay, I guess. I wouldn’t call them amazing. He’s way better than me, but I think he likes photography more than drawing and painting. We went for a walk on the beach this morning, and he took a ton of pictures of stupid stuff like shells and driftwood. We saw seals though. I think they’re cute. I wonder if you were an artist too or if I get it from Uncle Matt. Definitely not from Mom. She can’t even draw stick figures.
Oh, we have a new neighbor now. Well, she’s living in the coach house, but I guess that makes us neighbors even though the coach house is part of this property. Liz Carlisle. She’s a lawyer, go figure, but she’s not doing that now. She’s working at the art gallery in town, with Mrs. McIntyre. I have to work there too, long story. She’s kind of hard to get a bead on, (Miss Carlisle), and I’m usually pretty good at reading people. If I had to put money on it, I’d say she’s hiding some pretty dark secrets. Well, I guess I know all about that.
I thought we’d be long gone back to Boston by now, but Uncle Matt decided to stay. Have you ever been to Nantucket? It’s boring as stink, but it’s not so bad. Of course, I act like I hate it. Because I pretty much do. But sometimes, like when the sun hits the water just before it goes down and throws a million different lines of yellows and oranges and scarlet pinks further than your eye can see, it’s pretty cool. Uncle Matt really likes it here. Takes him back to his childhood, he says. He and my mom used to come stay with their grandparents here when he was a kid. The house is so dang old I can’t believe it hasn’t fallen down already. Every time I walk up the stairs I fear for my life.
“Mia, take those darn boots off, ya sound like an elephant!” Uncle Matt yells that at least twice a day. Usually I remember to take them off at the door. Sometimes I don’t.
Speaking of elephants . . .
There’s been a big one sitting on its keister in the middle of the room ever since Phyllis and Harrison Stone showed up last week.
That elephant would be me. And my dear mama, Rachel.
They haven’t said word one about her yet.
It’s weird, ya know? Seeing these people you’re related to, knowing they don’t know the slightest thing about you. Knowing you wouldn’t know them from Adam if you passed each other on the street. I always thought how cool it’d be if I came from a big family. I remember going over to Uncle Pat’s when I was little. He’s not my real uncle, that’s just what I ended up calling him because he’s Uncle Matt’s best friend and we saw them all the time. We lived with them too, when I was a baby. They had an apartment in their basement. I don’t remember that though. I remember it was fun at their house, always so many people around, kids to play with. But then Mom met Joe and we took off to Arizona. And after that, I never had a real family. Joe doesn’t count. He was never family. He was never anything.
It kind of sucks in a way, not having a brother or sister. But a lot of my life has sucked. Big time.
So now I have grandparents. Well, such as they are. We haven’t said more than a few words to each other. Dinner the first night was super awkward. Seemed like they didn’t really know what to say. How’s school, what am I taking, what things do I like to do, those kinds of boring questions that they probably don’t really want to know the answers to anyway. I guess when you’re a highbrow, you just know how to keep up conversation and act interested. Uncle Matt
kept giving me the stink eye, like he was afraid I’d pop out with a cuss word or something. During those lame lulls in conversation, it was so tempting.
Did you come from a big family? Maybe you even have one now. I guess I’ll never find out, but wherever you are, whoever you are, I hope you love your life. It’s a really hard thing not to.
Also, my mom is getting out of jail.
___________
Sunday night Matt couldn’t stand it any longer. Once Mia ventured upstairs saying she had homework, he found his folks in the living room. His mother sat on an overstuffed lounger by the window, reading on her iPad, and Dad was thumbing through a book on yachting. Matt cleared his throat and decided not to debate that one. Far as he knew, Dad had never sailed a day in his life.
“So.” He sank into the recliner and let the old leather ease his sore muscles. Gramps’ favorite chair, and Matt wouldn’t be parting with it anytime soon. “What’s up with the two of you? Why the impromptu trip over? You were so eager to get here, but outside of asking about the weather and a compliment on my chocolate cake, neither of you seem to have much to say.”
Mom uncrossed her legs, closed her iPad, and straightened her pale yellow cardigan. She flashed his father a look that Matt had no idea how to interpret. He’d never cracked the code of their silent language.
Dad put his book down, took off his glasses, rubbed his nose, and let out a sigh that somehow scaled the wall between them. “I suppose we do owe you an explanation.” He fiddled with the brown buttons of his thick navy sweater, glanced at his watch, and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Music filtered through the floorboards above them. Not as loud as usual, and Matt supposed he should be thankful. He hoped Mia was doing her homework.
“I don’t want to be disturbed,” Dad said quietly.
Matt got up and shut the double doors, his heart pounding harder. Mia wouldn’t come down unless she needed food, and she wouldn’t have to come in here to get to the kitchen anyway. “Okay. What’s going on?” He sat again, tapping his foot against the worn rug.
As the Light Fades (ARC) Page 11
