As the Light Fades (ARC)

by Catherine West

  Things with the grandparents are better. They may not be so bad after all. At least they’re talking to me like I’m not some alien now. And they’re not fighting nearly as much. I think they still hate my mom. She probably gave them good reason. I bet she was a junkie even before she had me. It’s a wonder I came out normal. I guess they’d probably know a lot of stuff about my mom that I don’t. I wonder if they know you. I don’t know what they’d say if I asked. I don’t have the nerve yet. And if they told me who you were, well, I don’t even know what I’d do with that.

  Would you want to know me?

  ___________

  Matt pulled into a parking space outside the gallery on Thursday afternoon and cut the engine. He sank back against the seat with a shuddering yawn. He was a bit early picking Mia up, but he’d come straight from his last class. There was no point in going home first. His cell buzzed from the pocket of his jeans and he fished it out. Scanned the number and grinned. “Hey, dude.”

  “Matt, my man!” Pat O’Donohue’s baritone boomed down the line, followed by the familiar chuckle Matt missed more than he’d admit to. “How’re you surviving over there? Winter set in yet?”

  “It’s coming.” Now in the first week of November, the air was definitely cold and snow was in the forecast. “How’s everything with you?”

  “Oh, the same. School, church, work. Kids are growing like weeds, keeping Kathleen on her toes, you know.”

  Matt didn’t know, but if raising grade schoolers was worse than a high schooler, he’d empathize. “You guys should come for a visit sometime. Mia would love to see you.”

  “Yeah. Maybe in the summer, huh? When we can beach it. Actually, we were thinking, ya know, you guys could maybe come here. For Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh.” Matt rubbed his jaw and watched an elderly couple cross the street. “Well. My folks are still here. I’m not sure they’re heading back to Boston anytime soon. Dad was looking at real estate the other day. I tell you that?”

  “No way.” Pat gave a long whistle. “And here you thought you’d escape on Nantucket, huh?”

  “Tell me about it.” Matt laughed. His life was so nuts that laughter was the only response. But having his folks around seemed to be helping. Mia had been doing well. Until their conversation on Saturday, which ended in disaster. She was still ignoring him.

  “So listen . . .” Pat’s sigh made Matt sit up a bit. “I was hoping you’d think about Thanksgiving, because Rachel . . . well, she really wants to see Mia. I told her I’d talk to you.”

  Matt stifled the word he wanted to say and bit his lip. “I told you the last time we talked, Mia’s not ready. I won’t force her.”

  “You don’t have a choice, man. She’s talked to the social worker. Her parole officer. They’re all on her side. She’s talking about getting a court order if you keep refusing. No clue whether she can, but . . .”

  “All right, all right.” Matt shut his eyes and battled nausea. Why now? He fought the urge to start the car and drive away, call and ask if Liz could give Mia a ride. “I’ll talk to Mia.”

  “I can do it if you want.”

  “No. You’ve done enough.” Matt regretted the sharp words at once. “Look, I know you’re just trying to help. But Mia . . . she’s doing good now, you know?”

  “So is Rachel. Which you’d see for yourself if you came over once in a while. She just wants to see her daughter. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Is it?” Matt clenched his fingers around the steering wheel. He’d thought he had a blind spot when it came to his sister, but Pat was worse. He’d been surprised when Rachel had run off with Giovanni, because he’d always figured she and Pat would end up together somehow, but Pat met Kathleen soon after Rach left and the rest was history.

  “So you’ll come?” Pat was always too pushy for his own good.

  “I said I’ll talk to her. That’s all I can say for now.” Matt stared in his rearview mirror as Chris Cooper’s gangly figure came into view. He watched the kid peer through the window of the gallery, wave, then disappear through the door. Huh.

  “Matt, are you still there?”

  “Still here.” He craned his neck to see through the gallery window, but there was a painting in the way. The door opened again and Mia came out, Cooper following. They headed up the street, away from him. “I gotta go, Pat.” He clicked off and jumped out of the Jeep. “Hey!” He hollered at them, but they either didn’t hear or ignored his yell. Matt jogged up the sidewalk and yelled again. This time the kids stopped and turned around.

  “What?” Mia put her hands on her hips, staring at him like he had two heads.

  Matt walked up to them, a little out of breath. “Where are you going? I’m here to pick you up.”

  “Why?” Mia’s look grew more intense. Her hair was longer, and the pink streaks had disappeared sometime on Sunday, replaced by a softer brown color he quite liked. She’d toned down the makeup, and her chunky boots had disappeared a few weeks back, replaced by sneakers mostly, sometimes black flats if Evy had her working up front in the gallery.

  The Cooper kid had been coming around lately, a few nights a week, for ‘homework’. Matt made them sit in the kitchen, much to Mia’s chagrin, but he had the backing of his parents on that one, and she didn’t get far with her arguments.

  “Um, Mia. Doctor’s appointment?” If this was her attempt at getting out of seeing the therapist, she had another thing coming.

  Mia sighed. “On Friday. Today is Thursday.”

  And that would be correct. “Huh.” He pulled up the zip of his leather jacket and found a smile. “I guess it is.”

  Mia tipped her head slightly to study him. “Are you okay, Uncle Matt?”

  “I’m fine.” He made a quick recovery and cleared his throat. “Where are you headed?”

  “Just going to The Juice Bar, sir.” Cooper stepped forward with a reassuring smile. “I’ll drop her home in time for dinner, if that’s okay?”

  Matt’s brain suddenly turned to scrambled eggs. “You’re driving?” Did he know that? How old was this boy? Should he ask to see the kid’s license? “Can I see your license?”

  “Uncle Matt!” Mia glared.

  He raised his hands with a grin as the kid was already fishing for his wallet. “Kidding.” But, not. He gave his head a shake. “Okay, don’t be too late. I need to talk to you tonight.”

  “What now?” Mia narrowed her eyes and shifted the strap of her backpack to her left shoulder. The plaid scarf around her neck blew in the breeze. That old distrust flared again and hit him in the gut.

  “Nothing. It can wait.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Go. Have fun.”

  Mia turned too fast and walked off. She probably thought he was going to interrogate her again. But he’d followed through after their discussion on Saturday. When he picked her up, tomorrow, Friday, they were heading to the therapist’s office for her first appointment. Crap, he hoped it wouldn’t blow up in his face.

  He kicked at a few stray leaves and walked back to his Jeep. Wondered if it might snow tonight as predicted. The first snowfall was always the best. Matt hesitated with a backward glance toward the gallery. He hadn’t talked to Elizabeth since Saturday night. He should at least go in and say hi.

  She’d shocked the heck out of him with that peck on the cheek. What was that about? She didn’t seem the overly affectionate type, and it had come out of left field. Not that he was complaining but . . . had it been her way of saying she’d be open to being more than friends? Or had it simply been a friendly gesture, a hey, thanks, I had a nice time? Matt sighed and shook his head. Women. This was exactly why he steered clear of long-term relationships. But Elizabeth Carlisle had somehow opened the door to his heart and practically moved in the minute he’d met her. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  A man stood in front of the gallery window, staring at a painting. Well dressed, a black wool coat, unbuttoned, over a gray suit. When Matt looked closer, i
t seemed more like the guy was staring beyond the painting. Staring at the desk where Elizabeth stood talking to a female customer.

  Staring at Elizabeth.

  Matt stepped closer. “Intriguing scene, isn’t it?”

  The stranger made a slow pivot, settling a steely gaze on Matt. Something in the guy’s guarded expression immediately put him on edge.

  “It’s one of Lynette Carlisle’s, isn’t it? Are you a fan?” He spoke with a slightly British accent.

  Matt nodded, carefully shifting his gaze to where Elizabeth was still talking. “Miss Carlisle is very talented. But I can’t afford her prices.”

  The man smiled and ran a hand over short blond hair. “Quite. Do you know the family?”

  “Not really.” Matt registered the niggling feeling that was sending red flags up in every direction.

  “She has a sister, doesn’t she? Older. Lives here on the island?”

  “Couldn’t tell ya.” Matt shrugged, a knot twisting in his stomach. “Are you going in?” He motioned toward the door and the man back-pedaled.

  “Not today. Good evening.” He turned on the heel of smart black loafers and walked away, whistling an eerie tune that sent a shiver up Matt’s spine. He yanked the door open and stepped inside the warm gallery.

  twenty-eight

  The last customer was on the way out and Elizabeth motioned for him to flip the sign on the door to closed. He did so. And turned the lock before he had second thoughts.

  “Why did you lock the door?” She pushed papers together and put them away in a drawer.

  “Habit, I guess.” He shrugged it off and tried to appear nonchalant. “Evy here?”

  “Nope, she already left. So did Mia. It’s just me.”

  Matt tried to quell the hammering of his heart. Tried not to think about the scenario that might have taken place if he hadn’t been outside. “Yeah, I saw Mia. I got my days mixed up and came to pick her up.”

  “I wondered why you were here.” She pulled on her jacket and leveled her gaze.

  Should he share his suspicions with her? He had to. If it were true . . . “Um, so there was a guy outside a minute ago.” He tugged his jaw. She was busy closing down the computer and locking drawers on the desk.

  “Anyone you know?” She slung her purse over her shoulder and scanned the room. “I’m going to organize a patron’s night. Did I tell you that?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Matt tried to smile, because the excitement in her eyes required it.

  “I talked to Evy today. She thinks it’s a fantastic idea. Says she hasn’t done one in a while. We’ll have a special showing of our best artists, have them here to mingle with the clients, wine and cheese, perhaps a string quartet for background music or soft jazz. Which do you think?” She walked to the door, keys jangling.

  “Don’t know.” He stepped around her to get to the door first, unlocked it, and pushed it open, scanning the street.

  “Matthew?” Elizabeth stepped outside and pulled the zip on her jacket.

  “What?”

  “I asked what you’re looking for. You’re acting weird.”

  “Sorry.” He watched his breath curl in the cold night air. The temperature had dropped since the weekend. He could be totally off base. The guy could have been anyone. He didn’t want to freak her out for no reason. “You, um, want to get a bite to eat?”

  She pulled on gloves and shook her head. “I’d love to, but I’m going over to Wyldewood to check on the progress and join the family for dinner.” A frown crossed her face. “Apparently there’s been a hold up with the electrical work. At this rate, I’m having serious doubts about the viability of a New Year’s Eve wedding. You’re welcome to tag along if you like. I’m sure there will be plenty of food. Oh, and I had a thought about Mia’s birthday I wanted to tell you about.”

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan.” He grinned and tabled his worrying thoughts for now. “I’ll follow you.”

  ___________

  Liz finished her last bite of chicken and watched Matthew from across the noisy kitchen table. Lynette was over at Nick’s. David and Josslyn were coaxing the twins to finish their food and the two little scamps were not having it. Trying to have adult conversation amidst the din was nearly impossible. Not that Matthew had much to say. He’d been distracted from the moment he’d stepped into the gallery, and she didn’t have the slightest idea why. Except . . .

  Perhaps it had been a mistake giving into impulse on Saturday night. She wasn’t sure why she’d done that. Kissed him on the cheek. Didn’t know what had possessed her. And she couldn’t exactly take it back now.

  He helped her clear and put the dishes in the dishwasher while the twins were taken upstairs. Once the kitchen was clean, she made coffee. “Come on, I want to walk through the house. See how far they’ve gotten.”

  Matthew took his mug and followed as she went through the back door of the new addition, through the large new laundry room, and into what would be Wyldewood’s new kitchen.

  “Hey, this looks great.” He spun around with an appreciative smile. Liz nodded. It did. The new appliances were all out of their boxes, ready to be installed. The big butcher block working space in the middle of the room was impressive, and a new long window looked out over the ocean.

  “David thinks we’ll manage with a chef and one or two helpers in the kitchen. Then we’ll need wait-staff, two at least. I suppose we’ll see how things go once we open.” She crossed the room to the new sinks and turned the tap. Water splashed out and made her smile. “Ah. Running water. That’s encouraging.”

  They wandered through into another spacious room. “And this is the dining room,” she told him. It was a wide, bright room, with windows running across the length of the room, allowing guests an ocean view while they ate. A new patio, still under construction, would give the option of al fresco dining during the summer months. “Well, the floors are done at least. And those beams look good. Sconces are up.” They’d chosen simple Colonial double brass candles, in keeping with the original look of the house. The walls had been painted a light beige, the hardwood newly buffed and varnished. She glanced upward to the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. “But no overhead lights yet.”

  Matthew took a slow walk around the darkened room. “How many tables do you aim to put in here?”

  “We’ll need at least ten. Round. David’s got a few selected, we just need to decide what we want to go with and place the order. And chairs too.”

  “Is this where you’re planning to have the wedding reception?”

  Liz felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She’d have Gray to thank when she ended up in the hospital with an ulcer. “That’s the plan.”

  “If they don’t get the lights up in time, you can string lighting across the beams.” He pointed upward with a sweeping motion. “Like Christmas lights or small round bulbs?”

  “Yes, I was thinking that too.” A crash came from somewhere in the house and Liz jumped. He was beside her in an instant. Almost shielding her from whatever harm he imagined coming their way.

  “It was probably just a shutter banging.” She tried to laugh, but the look on his face was worrisome. “Okay, what is up with you? You’ve been acting strangely since you came into the gallery this afternoon.”

  He did that thing where he pushed his fingers through his hair. Probably a nervous habit, but it was an attractive one. And the smile that followed intensified the butterflies already flying around her stomach. “Have I?”

  “Yes. You have. Any particular reason?”

  Matthew cleared his throat and gave a shrug. He moved away from her to the door on the other side of the room that led to the living room. “This looks nice.”

  Evading the question. He was good at that. Liz swallowed frustration and followed after him. “Oh.” It did indeed. Two new leather couches were positioned in front of the large fireplace. Lounge chairs sat by the windows for reading or relaxing. The old faded rugs were gone, new color
ful creations in their place. No curtains yet. The rods were up on two windows, the rest piled in one corner of the room. Her eyes settled on the spot to the left of the fireplace where their old tattered sofa had sat.

  “Come on, Elizabeth. Get your nose out of that book and join us!” A flash of memory startled her.

  Mom sat on the sofa, surrounded by all of them, reading from the tattered book of fairy tales they’d all loved so much at various stages of their lives. Even as they got older, story time was something they still enjoyed, mostly because of the funny voices Mom made. Sometimes if the mood struck him, Dad would join in, and the show would become even more theatrical. Lynnie, still small enough to sit on Mom’s lap, Gray and Ryan on either side of her, and David sprawled on the floor with a book of his own, pretending not to listen. Liz preferred to perch on the window seat, away from them. She was halfway through Gone with the Wind, determined to finish this week. She shook her head and went back to her reading.

  “Well, suit yourself,” Mom sighed. “But remember, you might miss out on a whole lot of life if you insist on seeing it from the sidelines.”

  Suddenly Liz needed to sit.

  “You all right?” Matthew lowered himself beside her.

  “I was just remembering what it was like before. When we were kids. My mother used to read to all of us in here.” Unwanted tears burned. “It’s all so different. It just hit me all of a sudden.” She sniffed and shot him a sheepish smile. “How is it possible to miss someone who’s been gone so long?” The old grandfather clock at the far side of the room ticked out time in a tune she could sing in her sleep.

  Matthew nodded and rubbed her back in gentle circular motion. “I’m not sure there’s a right answer to that. I think we always miss the ones we love, no matter how long it’s been.”

  “I suppose so.” She felt the pang of loneliness pinch a forgotten longing in her soul. “Sometimes I wish I’d done things differently. Been more a part of the family. I was always off doing my own thing. Thinking I didn’t need them. And I can’t get that time back.”