Summer on Lovers' Island

by Donna Alward

  Charlie shut her mouth. Picked at her shortbread. Took a sip of cold tea.

  “Oh for God’s sake, say something,” Lizzie snapped, unable to take Charlie’s silence.

  Charlie got up, picked up her chair, and moved it so she was sitting knee to knee with Lizzie. “He did you a gigantic favor in my opinion,” she said firmly. “Look, here’s what I know for sure. Russell Howard loved you. You loved him. No, hear me out. He was human, and you’re human, too. If you’re angry, be angry. My question to you is, what do you want to do now? Because whatever you want to do, I’ll help you.”

  Anxiety seemed to tumble around in Lizzie’s stomach.

  “Everything feels so out of control, Charlie. I don’t know how to deal with it. And I haven’t been able to admit that to anyone before now.”

  Charlie smiled softly. “If you had the answers you wouldn’t be finding this so difficult. And honey, you don’t need to decide today. I know that’s hard for you to accept, but it’s true. Stay the weekend and stop worrying. Look around. The offer is still open to take my place for a few months. I’m planning on starting my leave July first, as long as I can find someone to cover.”

  Lizzie dropped her chin. “My head is so messed up. I can’t bring all that into the practice you’ve built.”

  “Don’t worry about that. The other doctor is great. I’m already working reduced hours. It’d just be … backup.” She smiled encouragingly.

  “Colds and ingrown toenails. Lovely.” But Lizzie’s lips twitched. Charlie was like a dog with a bone when she got an idea in her head. Nothing was going to make her give it up. “Besides, I’m sure the town is nice, but isn’t it a bit … dull?” Dull as in dead. There probably wasn’t a movie theater, or a martini bar, or decent restaurants.

  “I know you’re impossible when you’re bored. But there is a lot to do here.” At Lizzie’s skeptical look she insisted, “There is! Including sleep. You look like hell, Liz. Besides, Portland isn’t far away if you need something more … cultured. There’s more to Jewell Cove than you think. It’s only for a few months. It’s not like it’s forever or anything.”

  Finally, Lizzie laughed. Charlie was better for her than any prescription. “Thank you, Charlie. For inviting me to visit.” When Charlie raised a doubtful eyebrow, she capitulated, “For making me come. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “I’m always here; you know that.”

  “But just because I’m on leave doesn’t mean I’m saying yes.”

  “It ups the chances. And I’m not above using a little blackmail.”

  “More shortbread?”

  Charlie put her hands on Lizzie’s knees. “If you stayed the summer, it means that my best friend in the whole world would be with me when my baby was born.”

  Lizzie’s nose stung and her bottom lip quivered. It was no secret that Charlie’s mom and dad weren’t exactly the nurturing type. Lizzie couldn’t imagine them being doting grandparents, or Mrs. Yang sitting through the undignified process of childbirth, even though she’d gone through it once herself. “That’s playing so dirty,” Lizzie whispered.

  “It’s true,” Charlie answered. “You need someone, Lizzie. And I need you. You’re the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. I want you to be our baby’s godmother.”

  Lizzie felt herself slipping. But she had to be strong. She hadn’t even seen the town yet. Or met the other doctor. And where would she find a place to live this close to tourist season? Surely everything was rented in advance.

  “I’ll think about it,” she replied. It was all she was able to commit to at the moment.

  CHAPTER 2

  They took Lizzie’s convertible, driving with the top down in the late-spring morning. The drive into Jewell Cove was short but pretty. Once leaving Charlie’s cottage, the road connected with Route 1, tracing the jagged coast like a curving snake. This morning the fog was melting in the morning sun, giving the light soft edges, like a picture from a magazine that had been photoshopped—but this was the real thing. Lizzie filled her lungs with the sea air and felt her hair blow back in the breeze. She had never been in such a naturally beautiful place in all her life. Maybe she could finally try windsurfing, or go hiking in Acadia National Park. Whoa, she reminded herself. She wasn’t actually considering taking Charlie up on her offer, was she?

  “We’ll find a place to park,” Charlie ordered. “Somewhere near the café, I think. We can shop and then come back for lunch.” Lizzie crawled along Main Street, looking for an open parking spot, following the direction of the finger Charlie pointed.

  “Do you ever think of anything besides food?”

  “Believe me, after a solid thirteen weeks of throwing up…”

  Lizzie laughed. “Fair enough. If my turn ever comes…”

  “Do you want it to?”

  Considering Lizzie’s current situation, the idea of a family was so far removed that it seemed a lifetime away. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much. I’ve been too busy. And there’s the tiny issue of a husband. Not a lot of Daves floating around for the taking, you know. I know in this day and age it’s not necessary … but I’m still a little old-fashioned when it comes to marriage.”

  “You’re far more conventional than you let on, Liz.”

  “Don’t let that get out and ruin my reputation,” Lizzie replied. “Like I said. Long way off.” But she’d been truthful about her view of marriage and family. Her upbringing hadn’t been perfect. Her father had been a bit of a workaholic, which put a strain on the marriage from time to time. But her parents had loved each other and persevered, even through tough times, and they’d always made an effort to make home a fun and welcoming place. Lizzie would rather be alone than settle for anything less.

  “Well, take notes just the same. You’ve already missed the morning sickness bit. Least you can do is hang around for the varicose veins and hemorrhoids.”

  Lizzie laughed. “Gee, what fun. And here I thought small-town medicine was boring.”

  They made their way along to the northeast end of Main. Only a few parking spots remained along the curb, and the small lot by the wharf was half-full. In another few weeks Lizzie figured the tourism traffic would hit full force for the Memorial Day weekend, turning the relaxed little town into a hub of activity.

  As they halted at the stop sign next to the wharf, Lizzie saw a pleasure boat slowly make its way around the slip. The words on the side were still clear: Jewell’s Constant. Farther out in the bay, the pristine white sails of a pair of clipper ships glided above the water. What would it be like to escape for a day’s sail on the ocean? When had Lizzie last taken time to do something so frivolous?

  She turned her attention back to Charlie. “You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Charlie replied, “I am. Look, Liz. I know this isn’t your speed and I know it’s not where you want to be in life, and that’s okay.”

  Lizzie pulled into a spot and killed the engine. “Small-town life isn’t for everyone same as city living isn’t, either.”

  Charlie frowned. “All I know is that I’m worried about you. I was worried after Russ died and I’m even more worried now. And yes, I can’t think of anyone I’d want taking my place more than you. There’s no on call, no night shifts. It’s regular hours, which, after your insane schedule, is nearly like a vacation. The people are wonderful. There are beaches and parks. You could do worse.” She looked Lizzie right in the eye. “I want the old Lizzie back. The one who smiles easier and isn’t so afraid.”

  They got out of the car and Lizzie could smell the rich fragrance of coffee mingled with bacon coming from the café. The town was built on a hill, so each street climbed up a step and was dotted with postcard-perfect buildings painted an array of colors. The café was cobalt blue with white trim. An inn across the street was brick red, and Lizzie’s gaze caught on a large building the next street up painted lavender, of all things. How could she be anything but cheerful when faced wi
th such a rainbow of architecture? But cheerful was not the same as happy. Charlie’s idea was an intriguing one, but Lizzie wasn’t sold yet. Charlie was right. It wasn’t her speed. And yet … it wasn’t like it was a permanent position or anything. It would be … vacation. It had been a long time since she’d taken one. She bit down on her lip. Had she actually forgotten how to let her hair down and have fun? Be spontaneous and daring? In the past she’d jumped at the opportunity to travel, to try something new. But in the last six months …

  Charlie let the topic rest as they spent the morning browsing shops. First they visited the Three Fishermen gallery featuring pieces by New England artists, including a stunning selection of painting on glass. There was a clothing boutique with hand-painted silk scarves and intricately beaded handbags that Lizzie drooled over. They laughed over lobster-shaped salt-and-pepper shakers in a touristy souvenir shop, and when Charlie wistfully touched a hand-pieced quilt she’d been eyeing for the baby’s room Lizzie bought it on the spot.

  “Are you crazy?” Charlie turned over the price tag to show Lizzie.

  “No, I am not.” She carefully took the quilt off the display rack, smiling at the yellow and white bunnies peeking over the squares. “It’s gorgeous and you’re in lust with it. It’s the least I can do.”

  “But today is your birthday.”

  Right. She’d pretty much forgotten that little detail. “Then buy me a cupcake.”

  At the bookstore Charlie bought Lizzie an illustrated guide to the Maine Midcoast, another tool, she said, in her ongoing blackmail ploy. But the real clincher was lunch at Breezes Café. Grilled panini sandwiches and sweet potato fries would have done it all on their own, but the warm blueberry buckle with vanilla bean ice cream toppled Lizzie over the edge.

  As they left town, Charlie casually directed her past the doctor’s office two streets up, a large saltbox-style house with precisely two parking spots. It looked very proper with its deep-green rhododendrons flanking the door and a sign hanging on the front lawn. Lizzie figured the detour had been a strategic move on Charlie’s part.

  “Dr. Collins used to be an army doctor,” Charlie said as they pulled up to the curb. “He retired from the military, and after his wife died, he came back to Jewell Cove to set up practice. He took over for Phil Nye, who was the town doc for decades.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Phil or Joshua?”

  Lizzie chuckled. “Joshua.”

  “Kind. Smart and efficient. People trust him because he’s local. Jewell Cove might be small, but he keeps up with the latest. He’s been fine to work for. No drama, which from what you’ve said would be a plus. He’s very … uh, professional.”

  Charlie made it sound like that was a negative, but Lizzie figured professionalism and efficiency were fine traits in a doctor. After her disastrous affair with Ian, an ex-army widower sounded positively perfect. No chance of romantic conflicts in the workplace. “I haven’t even come close to saying yes,” Lizzie replied, putting on her signal light to pull away.

  And yet the town had charmed her with its colorful buildings and unique shops. She looked in her rearview mirror at the house. It had a certain appeal. There was a level of friendliness in the town she wasn’t quite comfortable with, but she suspected that would change when the tourists started rolling in and the strangers outnumbered the townies.

  What else was waiting for her that was any better? If she was perfectly honest with herself, it was wishful thinking that she would be able to convince Ian to let her go back to work. Especially while the threat of a lawsuit still hung over her head.

  “I don’t know where I’d live,” Lizzie said, as if she and Charlie had already been having that conversation. “And don’t say with you and Dave. No way. I refuse to impose on you two that way. And then there’s my mom.…”

  “Not that it would be an imposition, but I already thought of that,” Charlie replied smugly. “And as far as your mom goes, it’s not that long of a drive. With your lighter schedule, it won’t be difficult to visit often. No more difficult than finding time when you’re working over sixty hours a week.”

  “You’re probably right about that last part.” Lizzie sighed. She should have known. Charlie always had a contingency plan, always had her bases covered. Lizzie suspected she’d never stood a chance. Not that she’d truly put up much of a fight. God, she was weaker than she thought. What did that say about her?

  “Does this mean you want the job?”

  “Are you really going to make me ask?”

  Charlie’s smile was so big Lizzie thought her cheeks might crack. “You’re really thinking about it?”

  Charlie looked so excited it was impossible to remain immune to her enthusiasm. The idea of going back to Springfield and begging for reinstatement filled Lizzie with dread. There were memories back there, too, memories she’d rather not face. Why not give herself a break?

  She’d been top of her class at Harvard. Every step of the way she’d gotten what she wanted. It had really thrown her to have someone else call the shots in her career. She was more daring in her personal life; maybe it was time to employ a different strategy professionally.

  So she laughed and threw caution to the wind. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I’m not just thinking. I’m offering. Just for the mat leave, though. I don’t think I could stand more than six months in a place so small there isn’t even a Starbucks.” She gave a false shudder. “Where am I going to get my macchiato?”

  Charlie let out a squeal. “Hot damn, Dave owes me ten bucks. I told him I could do it!”

  They had been sitting at a stop sign for so long the driver of a truck behind them laid on the horn. “Keep your shirt on!” Lizzie called back, and Charlie giggled.

  “You sure you want that? The driver seems awfully cute. Definitely shirt-off material.”

  Lizzie gave a cursory glance in the rearview mirror. She could make out streaked blond hair and broad shoulders. Okay, so he was kind of good-looking. She sent Charlie a stern look as she proceeded through the intersection. “Look, you’ve already played havoc with my professional life. No matchmaking. I mean it, Charlie.” All teasing aside, the last thing Lizzie needed in her mess of a life was a romantic entanglement.

  “I promise.” Charlie crossed her heart.

  “When would I start?” Despite Lizzie’s reservations, excitement fizzed through her veins.

  “End of June, first of July? It’s nearly six weeks away. Lots of time to make arrangements.”

  “So where are we going?” Lizzie checked the rearview mirror again, and the truck turned off on a different street.

  Charlie smiled. “Put on your turn signal and get back on the highway. I’m going to show you the cottage at Fiddler’s Rock.””

  * * *

  The afternoon was getting on when the Realtor met them at the cottage, less than two miles away from Charlie and Dave. The property agent smiled as she turned the key in the lock. “The owner got married and moved somewhere bigger,” she explained, shoving open the door. “He rents it out now.”

  “I can’t believe it’s not rented already,” Lizzie replied, stepping onto the wraparound deck.

  Charlie grinned. “Dave was renting it when we met.”

  “Tom, the owner, likes a long-term renter, none of those rent-by-the-week vacation types,” the agent replied, sticking her head back out the door. “You coming in?”

  Lizzie looked back at Charlie. “Come on. This is your party.”

  Charlie laughed, her brown eyes twinkling at Lizzie. “You were a lot easier to convince than I expected.”

  “You caught me at a vulnerable moment.”

  They stepped inside the cottage and Lizzie caught her breath. It was perfect. Solid wood cupboards in the small kitchen, a drop-leaf dining table in front of sliding deck doors. The kitchen led into a living room with warm oak flooring, and at the back of the cottage were two bedrooms and a beautiful bathroom complete with an old-fashioned
claw-foot tub for long evening soaks. Trees around the cottage added privacy; endless windows provided views from every angle. The décor was decidedly masculine, sturdy, with dark-plaid upholstery on the sofa and chair. But it worked, somehow. It felt settled, and comfortable and welcoming. Very different from Lizzie’s modern condo in Springfield but cozy like her childhood home had always been.

  The agent wisely kept quiet. Lizzie opened the patio doors and stepped out onto the deck. She thought she understood now why the knob of land in the middle of the cove was called “Fiddler’s Rock.” From this vantage, the shoreline curved in the shape of a violin, until widening out into the bigger bay, then on to the open ocean.

  Her life had been spiraling for some time now. Maybe this was a desperate move in the current circumstances, but it was a deliberate one, and one she was making on her own. It was both heady and terrifying.

  “I’ll take it,” she said.

  She pretended not to see Charlie’s fist pump the air.

  CHAPTER 3

  Six weeks later

  Josh Collins grabbed a still-warm oatmeal muffin from the plate and ate a third of it in his first bite on the way to the coffeepot. His mug was already sitting on the countertop waiting, a sickly grayish ceramic one with “World’s Best Skipper” painted on it in bright blue. Another one of his sister Sarah’s craft classes gone wrong. Why Jess had gotten all the handicraft genes and Sarah had none was beyond Josh. Sarah was always signing up for Jess’s classes at her store, Treasures, claiming they were fun and not all about artistic talent. Personally Josh thought Jess’s evenings above her store were more about the gossip and wine than about crafts, but he’d never be stupid enough to say that to either of his sisters. Besides, what Sarah lacked in artistic talent she more than made up for in the kitchen. She was a tremendous cook.

  “Fog’s in again,” Sarah said, wrinkling her brow and gazing out the kitchen window at the harbor. Sarah tended to mother them all. She’d let up on Jess recently since Jess had gotten married. That only left Josh. He let Sarah hover because he understood. She was a nurturer, and she didn’t know how else to help him. Poor, poor widower Josh. He was fine. Had been for some time, really. But she did make great coffee and muffins, so the morning ritual was one he enjoyed. Most of the time.