by Ruth Langan
“Right.” Melissa nodded her head. “And I believe that as much as I believe Cody Fletcher is going to skip baseball practice until his stitches come out.”
“Am I that transparent?” Emily sighed. “Don’t answer that, Mel.” She unlocked the door that separated the clinic from the main house. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She pulled the door shut before making her way up the back staircase to the second floor. In her old bedroom she stopped to scratch behind the ears of a white kitten stretched out on her bed.
“You’re shedding, Angel. That’s why you’ve been banished from the clinic. Mel said she’s sick and tired of sweeping up after you. Besides, there are actually a few patients who are allergic to all that dander.”
The cat yawned and licked a paw with a bored expression.
Grinning, Emily stripped off the simple skirt and blouse she’d worn under her lab coat and slipped into a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. It was best to be prepared, she thought with a quick glance in the mirror, in case the committee needed her help with last-minute decorations. She might talk a good game to Melissa, but she knew she’d end up pitching in with the work.
“I’ll leave the door open,” she called to the cat. “Maybe you’ll take the hint and shed somewhere else.”
Once in the car Emily opened the window and let the breeze take the ends of her hair as she mulled the path her life had taken. It was hard to believe she’d been back in Devil’s Cove for six months now, first to take care of her father, and then to take over his practice. The days and weeks had a way of blurring together here. At University Hospital there had been staff meetings, luncheons, daily tours of patients’ rooms and in-depth discussions of various treatments. Not to mention late-night dinners with David where, more often than not, they ended up debating articles they’d read in medical journals, or the latest controversial drugs being tested by a colleague.
David was Dr. David Turnley, a specialist in pediatric surgery who had hoped to persuade Emily to be his partner, not only in his professional life but in his personal life as well. It caught her by surprise to admit that there’d been no time to miss him since she’d returned home.
Here the care was much more personal in nature. She wasn’t just part of a team. She was a hands-on small-town doctor who was expected to stitch wounds, deliver babies, treat infections and dispense advice on everything from obesity to high blood pressure to clinical depression.
It felt good, she realized as she eased her car to the curb. For however long she stayed, it felt good to be back.
She turned off the ignition and studied the sprawling old inn that had graced the town of Devil’s Cove for more than eighty years. Painted white, with a gleaming black roof and black shutters, it was both stylish and graceful. A wide pillared porch along the front was dotted with white wicker furniture and pots of colorful flowers and trailing ivy. On one side was a lovely formal garden that sported curving stone walkways leading to a gazebo in the middle, which was often used for wedding receptions.
Emily made her way up the steps and inside the foyer, where Beth Collins, a college student home for the summer, was busy taking a phone reservation. She waved as Emily passed, then returned her attention to the guest register.
When Emily reached the ballroom she could hear the squeals of laughter even before she opened the double doors. She stepped inside to see half a dozen women huddled together while one harried-looking woman in bright pink sneakers stood in the middle of the room holding tightly to at least a hundred streamers attached to balloons.
“If someone doesn’t help me soon,” Marge Dawson pleaded, “I swear I’ll float all the way to the ceiling.”
“So will I,” another woman shouted. “And I won’t even need a balloon.”
There was a louder burst of giggles from the cluster of women.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Emily glanced around. “It looks like our tribute committee has been dipping into the punch.”
“Emily.” One woman separated herself from the others and rushed forward. “Wait ’til you hear.” She paused, her hand on her heart. “You’ll never guess who checked into the Harbor House today.”
“From the looks of all of you, Libby, I’d have to say Brad Pitt.”
“Even better.” Libby Conway tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Her freckles seemed even more pronounced than ever now that her face was flushed.
The others nodded and gathered around, ignoring the pleadings of their friend with the balloons.
“Jason Cooper.” The name was spoken on a sigh. “Can you believe Jason Cooper is here in Devil’s Cove?”
Emily’s smile faded just a notch.
Seeing it, one of the women asked, “Didn’t you know he was coming, Emily? I mean, you are chairing this event.”
Emily didn’t quite trust her voice, so she merely shook her head.
“Did he even acknowledge the invitation?” another asked.
“No.” Emily was glad to note that her voice sounded as steady as ever. She hoped whatever turmoil was going on inside wasn’t visible to these women.
“Well, how can you expect someone as famous as Jason Cooper to answer every invitation he gets?” Libby giggled. “Have you read his latest book?”
“Hasn’t the whole world?” one of the women remarked.
There was a rush of nervous laughter.
“It was creepy,” one of them said. “The town in his book resembled Devil’s Cove. All those gory murders. I couldn’t put it down.”
“Me either.” A slender brunette shivered, then added, “I wonder why he didn’t tell anyone he was coming.”
“Too busy. He probably has a secretary to handle such things.”
At Libby’s words, the others nodded their agreement.
“Yeah. And an agent, and a public relations firm and a business manager and…”
“And dozens of gorgeous models and actresses falling all over him.”
“Can you blame them?” A perky blonde lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you see that article about him in Celebrity?”
A woman whose dark hair was streaked with gray nodded. “You mean the one showing him on the deck of that mansion he bought in Malibu? They said he never grants interviews. He jogs before the sun comes up. He works all night, sleeps all day, and keeps his private life extremely private. He looked like the dark, brooding hero of every one of his books. I thought I’d die.”
The others sighed their agreement.
“Guess where he went as soon as he checked in?” Libby lowered her voice, even though everyone in the room knew the answer to that except Emily.
Emily shrugged. “I can’t imagine.”
“To the Daisy Diner. You know who works there, don’t you?”
Emily didn’t need to respond. In a town as small as Devil’s Cove, everyone knew where everyone worked. And it was no secret that Carrie Lester, an old classmate, had been working there for years.
Emily kept her tone steady. “That’s really nice. Jason and Carrie’s brother, Cory, were best friends.”
Libby gave a short laugh. “Maybe Cory wasn’t his only best friend. You know…” She looked around at the others for confirmation. “…I’ve always thought Carrie’s little girl had eyes like a certain bestselling author and playboy who was once known as the bad boy of Devil’s Cove.”
“I think we’d better get those balloons up and head home.” Emily’s throat felt so tight, she could hardly get the words out.
“Okay.” Libby shrugged. “Emily’s right. We’d better move it if we want to look glamorous for the cocktail party tonight. And now that we’ve got Jason Cooper in our midst, we have to look our best. Connie, help Marge get those balloons in place.”
When the others walked away, Emily let out a long, slow breath.
Jason Cooper. Here in Devil’s Cove.
She hadn’t seen him since she was eighteen. He’d left town the day after graduation, without a word to anyone. Like Libb
y, there were many who thought it was because Carrie Lester was carrying his baby. Emily had never believed that. Not then. Not now. Still, it hurt to know that in all the time they’d been apart, he’d never made a single attempt to contact her. And now, after all this time, it was Carrie he went to see.
She shrugged it off. She’d worked hard to put Jason Cooper out of her mind. And she’d succeeded. Now he was nothing more than a bittersweet memory of earlier, innocent times.
“What about that banner?” Emily started toward the stage. There was no way she was going to stand idly by and pick at old wounds. “Can somebody give me a hand putting this up?”
She caught hold of a ladder and began to climb. This was what she needed. Nothing like good hard physical work to keep the mind from going into overdrive.
“Jason.” Carrie Lester sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup she was carrying. She hissed a breath and folded a paper napkin in the saucer before handing it to Teddy Morton, one of her regulars. Then she rounded the counter and paused to study the darkly handsome man who stood framed in the doorway. “You look…” She shook her head. “…different…successful.”
“Is that the best you can do?” He arched a brow before striding toward the sister of his best friend and kissing her cheek. “You look as pretty as ever.”
“Yeah. Right.” She touched a hand to her cheek. “Men get better as they get older. Women just get older.”
He tugged on a lock of hair the color of platinum. “What’re you now? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? How can you call that old?”
“I’ve got a ten-year-old kid. There are days when that makes me feel really ancient.” She indicated an empty booth. “You want to sit and I’ll get you some coffee?”
“I’d rather sit at the counter. That way you can talk to me while you work.” He settled himself on a stool and waited while she poured him a cup of black coffee.
“What time did you get in, Jason?”
“An hour ago.” He sipped. Paused.
Carrie leaned her elbows on the counter and lowered her voice, knowing the regulars were watching and listening. After all, it wasn’t every day the Daisy Diner entertained a celebrity. “I couldn’t believe it when Mrs. B. announced that she was retiring.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I know you’re not going to believe this, after all the trouble I gave her when we were in school, but I was hoping she’d be around to teach Jenny.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. She was the toughest old bird I’ve ever met. But she was the only adult in this town who ever cared about me.”
“Yeah. She really liked you, Jason.”
He managed a smile. “By the way, how’s your mom, Carrie?”
“Fine. Still working for the Osborns. She gives me a hand with Jenny on the weekends if I have to pull a double shift.” She walked away to wait on a customer. Minutes later she returned to continue the conversation as though there had been no interruption. “She keeps talking about retiring, but she just can’t do it yet.” She picked up the coffeepot and topped off his cup, then moved along the counter, filling others.
After ringing up several payments she returned. “You want something to eat?”
He shook his head. “I ate at the Harbor House. They make the best grilled salmon in the world.”
Carrie grinned. “You ought to try my grilled cheese. With bread-and-butter pickles. And for dessert, a hot fudge sundae with a sprinkling of peanuts.”
He grinned. “Nothing ever changes around Devil’s Cove.”
Carrie’s look grew thoughtful. She leaned closer. “I wish I’d had the courage to leave like you did, Jason.”
“You still can, Carrie.”
“No, I can’t. It’s too late for me.”
“It’s never too late.”
She huffed out a breath. “Now you sound like Mrs. B.”
“Do I?” He frowned. “I don’t know why that should surprise me. She colored every decision I’ve ever made. Even years after I left here, I could hear her voice in my head.”
“Is that why you came for the tribute?”
Before he could answer she excused herself to wait on another customer. Jason sat staring into his coffee and thinking about the question. He’d told himself a hundred times that he was coming here because of his old teacher who had made such a difference in his life. He owed it to her to be here. Hell, he owed her everything. She’d been his refuge from a nightmare life with a father who was a drunk and a bully, and a mother who was terrified to leave him. To spare his mother, Jason had often taken the beatings meant for her. And he had the scars to prove it.
His old teacher had been able to see through the wall of anger he’d built around himself. Anger that masked a bright mind and an iron will. Despite his bad-boy image, Mrs. Brennan had loaned him books, got him summer jobs and encouraged him when no one else did. When the opportunity to escape had been dropped into his lap, he’d gone to her for advice. She’d given it in a few terse words. “Take the gift you’re being offered. And hone your skills, boy.”
Hone your skills.
It had taken him a while to figure out what they were. He’d mended fences on a ranch in Texas, manicured fairways on a golf course in Arizona, bussed tables in L.A. And all the while he’d observed, and written copious notes in a journal. His first novel had been hailed as brilliant, his second riveting and his third had lifted him into the rarified stratosphere of superstar. His current book was considered by critics to be his best yet. Still, it was bound to make him a pariah in his hometown. He’d opened up old wounds by chronicling a string of murders that had happened right here.
He’d welcomed this opportunity to come back to Devil’s Cove and publicly thank the woman who had opened his mind to the possibilities. She’d been a refuge for a confused, angry boy. Without Mrs. B., there was no telling what choices he might have made. But there was another reason he was here. When he’d read the letter detailing the tribute planned for his old teacher, it was the name of the person chairing the committee that had leapt off the page.
Emily Brennan.
Emily was back in town. It might be his last chance, his only chance, to see her and try to make things right between them.
He had no idea how she would react. Or how he’d feel when he saw her again. He had, after all, left her without a word. And in the ten years since then, they’d had no contact.
A part of him hoped she had changed. Had become polished, sleek, sophisticated, maybe a little brittle, a little hard around the edges. It would be easier that way. He could go back to the life he’d made for himself without regrets. But in a small part of his mind he couldn’t help hoping that her sweetness, her kindness, her wonderful, simple optimism had remained. It had always been what had set Emily Brennan apart. Despite her family’s wealth and standing in the community, she’d seemed completely unaffected by it. There was a tenderheartedness about her, a way of accepting strays, both animal and human, that had always been so endearing to a boy whose life had been devoid of tenderness.
He had, quite simply, loved her. From the first time he’d seen her, seeking refuge in his hideaway, ignoring the scrapes on her knees to rescue a puppy, he’d fallen with a thud. By the time he’d left Devil’s Cove, he’d begun to believe that she loved him as well. But he’d learned that hearts, like people, change. He might be clever at mingling fact with fiction, but he was smart enough to know that it was impossible to revive something that was long dead.
And so he’d come back to Devil’s Cove to honor an old teacher and see an old love one last time. Then, he hoped, he could turn his back on the town of his childhood forever. This time, with no regrets.
Chapter 3
Emily fastened small diamond studs in her ears before stepping back to study her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was a long smooth column of emerald silk with a square neckline, long sleeves and a sweeping hemline that ended just above her ankles. It wasn’t the one she’d intended to wear tonight, but she’d decided at the last minu
te that the black silk with the lace jacket was too ordinary. After fussing with the decorations long after the rest of her committee had gone home, she’d realized that the last thing she wanted tonight was to appear ordinary. Since dazzling wasn’t her style, she had to settle for elegant.
Let Jason Cooper ignore her in this.
The thought had her going very still. Was that what this was about? Trying to get Jason to notice her?
She studied herself more carefully, then slowly shook her head. Not notice. Regret. She wanted him to regret having left her behind. Without a word. That’s what hurt the most.
She’d always known Jason would leave. Hadn’t they talked about it a hundred times? He’d always said he would leave as soon as he graduated and never look back. But always, when they’d talked of it, he’d promised to take her along. It wasn’t just his dream; it was theirs. And he’d robbed her of it.
Not robbed, exactly, she admitted. After all, her privileged lifestyle had allowed her to come and go at will, first attending the University of Michigan and later studying medicine at Georgetown. But until Jason’s first book had been published, amid a storm of publicity, she hadn’t known where he was, or even if he was alive or dead. That’s what had hurt the most. While she’d been worrying herself half sick, fearing the worst, he’d been traveling the country, having a grand old time, finding himself, writing books. But never writing to her. Not a letter. Not a postcard.
Some writer, she thought.
She picked up the small emerald beaded handbag and started down the stairs. With a wry smile she whispered, “I hope you eat your heart out, Jason Cooper.”
It was a perfect summer evening. The warm breeze off Lake Michigan was perfumed with the fragrance of roses that graced the gardens of Harbor House. Throngs of people lined the porch of the inn and spilled down the steps onto the sidewalk. The top of the porch had been strung with festive lanterns that winked and swayed.
Inside, people were lined up in front of a long table to present their tickets and collect their name tags before entering the ballroom. Emily was pleased to note that the welcome committee had added extra members to handle the crowd.
