Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2)

by Sophie Moss

  “Annie and Della are throwing a big party at the café on Sunday,” she protested.

  “I know,” he said, and his voice sounded weary. “Look, Becca, you know I need to do whatever it takes right now. There’s a lot of competition to make partner this year. I’m doing this for us, remember?”

  For us.

  Becca knew how hard he worked. She knew he wanted to start a family as badly as she did. But, as he’d reminded her countless times, children were expensive. He wanted to make sure they were set up financially first.

  How could she argue with that?

  She heard more commotion in the background. “Do you want to call me back later? Something happened today and I’d really like to talk when you have time to—”

  “Hang on, Becca. Hang on, just a second.”

  She heard Tom’s office door open again. All the background noise from the hallway rushed back through the receiver. She held the phone away from her ear as he engaged in a lengthy discussion with whoever had barged in. When he finally came back on the line, the noise in the background was deafening.

  “Why don’t you come up here for the night,” he said, trying to speak over the noise. “I might not be home until after midnight, but we can order take-out and stay up and watch those comedy shows you love.”

  It was a small sacrifice, Becca thought. He hated those shows and rarely agreed to watch them with her. But she always went to D.C. on the weekends. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d agreed to spend the weekend on the island. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d even mentioned wanting to visit the island.

  “I think I’ll stay here tonight,” Becca said.

  “Okay,” he said, not even bothering to put up a fight.

  Becca looked out the window over the sink, at the view of the marshes shimmering in the fading sunlight. She knew she should offer to go to D.C., to spend the holiday with Tom since he couldn’t get away. It wasn’t his fault his job was so demanding.

  But she really wanted to celebrate Easter on Heron Island. She wanted to watch the kids hunt for eggs on the docks of the marina. She wanted to go to brunch with the rest of the islanders at the café. She wanted to spend the day with her father.

  “I’ll call you later, okay?” Tom said. It sounded like more people were swarming around him in the background, trying to pull him away. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you later.”

  She heard the beep, indicating that he’d already ended the call. “Yeah, okay,” she said softly. Lowering the phone to her side, she looked back out the window, at a blue heron spreading its wings and gliding gracefully over the horizon.

  “Becca?”

  Becca’s gaze shot to the doorway. She hadn’t realized her father had gotten up from the sofa and had come into the kitchen.

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Everything’s fine.” She forced a wobbly smile back on her face. She didn’t like her father to see her like this…so vulnerable.

  She was the strong one. She had always been the strong one.

  She had been the one who had held what was left of their family together after her mother had died.

  “Something came up at work for Tom.” She walked over to the fridge to pull out a head of lettuce. “He won’t be coming this weekend after all.”

  Her father continued to watch her for several long moments in silence. “He hasn’t come down to the island in a while.”

  “I know.” She carried the lettuce back over to the counter and reached for a cutting board. “He’s been so busy with all these cases. The firm is working him like crazy.”

  Her father was quiet again for a long time. The only sound in the kitchen was the chop of the knife against the cutting board. “I guess it’ll be easier for you both once you’re living over there.”

  Becca nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  Her father walked over, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to miss you though.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “Me, too.”

  “You promise you’ll still come home on the weekends?”

  She set the knife down, laying her hand over his. “I promise.”

  He smiled and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. But if Tom was working late every night and the only time they could spend together was on the weekends, and he always wanted to be in D.C., how was she ever going to keep that promise?

  Driving away from the inn, Colin dialed his father’s number. The sun was beginning to set and warm golden rays slanted through the branches of the white pines and dogwoods lining the marshes. An ebbing tide rubbed against the muddy shoreline, the salty scent drifting through the open windows of the truck as he waited for his father’s voicemail to pick up.

  “Hi, Dad,” he said, after the recorded greeting. “It’s me. I know you’re tied up at the fundraiser for a couple more hours, but call me as soon as you get this. We have a situation.”

  He ended the call and slid the phone back in his pocket. Becca might think there were only a handful of people who knew about the possibility of the elementary school shutting down, but if he’d learned anything from working on his father’s campaign over the past six months, it was that damaging news had a way of leaking at the worst possible moment.

  The press would have a field day if they found out this school was in danger of closing, because Heron Island Elementary wasn’t just any school. It was Taylor Malone’s school—the sole survivor of the Mount Pleasant school shooting.

  Colin’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. Whenever he thought about the deranged teenager who had killed those seventeen innocent children in their second grade classroom in D.C. before turning the gun on himself last September, he felt a wave of white-hot rage.

  Before leaving the SEALs, he had spent ten years fighting to keep the people of this country safe from terrorists who wanted to destroy them and everything they stood for. The thought that something like this would happen at home, by one of their own people, did not sit well.

  It did not sit well at all.

  Passing the small brick building flanked by playing fields, he eased off the gas pedal. Most of the classrooms were dark, cleared out for the holiday weekend, but he could see the colorful student artwork taped to the big glass windows and a sign hanging outside the library advertising a bake sale for the following week.

  This school was where Taylor had come to start over. It was where she had come to escape the memories of her past. It was where she had finally managed to get control of the demons that still haunted her.

  He knew a little something about demons.

  While he didn’t personally suffer from the psychological disorder that affected so many post-9/11 veterans, many of his friends struggled with PTSD. It was one of the reasons why he’d decided to open the veterans’ center. Too many of his fellow former service members were slipping through the cracks, unable to cope with the transition to civilian life after having served multiple back-to-back deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan.

  He was counting on the tranquility of this island to work its magic on the men and women who came to stay at the inn.

  Driving through the village, Colin took in the splash of tulips sprouting in the gardens along Main Street. Crabapple and cherry trees bloomed in the tiny front yards of the ice cream parlor, bookstore, and antique shop. Pulling his truck to the curb across the street from the Wind Chime Café, he cut the engine and opened the driver’s side door.

  The beams of the front porch were covered in homemade wind chimes. They filled the air with a quirky combination of clinks, clangs, and rings as he stepped out of the truck. He waved to the pretty redhead sweeping the porch and made his way across the street.

  “You’re just in time,” Annie Malone said. “Della’s about to pull a cake out of the oven.”

  He ducked under a low hanging oak branch covered in bright green leaves. “What kind of cake?”

  “White
chocolate almond with vanilla bean icing.”

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “She’s still testing out recipes for Becca’s wedding.”

  Right, Colin thought. The wedding. It was hard to come into the village these days without being reminded of the upcoming celebration. There was a sign on the sidewalk outside the ice cream parlor advertising “I Do” sundaes, “Meant to Be” milkshakes, and “Happily Ever After” waffle cones. The window display of Gladys’ Flower Shop had turned into an explosion of white flowers. Even the Sail Winds Bookstore had replaced its usual collection of nautical themed hardbacks for stacks of classic love stories and books on how to plan the perfect wedding.

  It wasn’t every day that someone on the island got married. He understood why everyone was making such a big deal about it. There was a time, not too long ago, when he’d actually enjoyed weddings.

  But after his own engagement had come to a grinding halt—and he’d had plenty of time to think about how easy it had been for his fiancée to give him his ring back and derail their future when he’d been laid up in bed for weeks recovering from surgery—he’d begun to view the entire institution as a joke.

  What was the point in spending so much time and effort on one day to celebrate a union that probably wouldn’t even last?

  Hoping to get a moment’s reprieve from the wedding fever this island had fallen under, he climbed the steps to the porch and peered through the open door of the café for a glimpse of whatever specials Will’s aunt, Della Dozier, had whipped up that day. When he spotted the counter and dining tables covered in white bows, boxes of silver bells, and reams of ivory lace, he groaned. “This whole island has gone wedding crazy.”

  Annie Malone laughed. “Becca’s insisting on doing everything herself. The least we could do was offer to help with the decorations.” She gave him a friendly hug, then stepped back, smiling. “But we might have gotten a little carried away.”

  Colin shook his head at the dining room filled with craft supplies. “I ran into Becca at the inn this afternoon. It was the first time I’ve seen her in months.”

  Annie reached up to adjust the strings of a chime that had gotten tangled. “How did she seem to you?”

  “She seemed okay.” He watched her closely for signs that she might have already heard about the threat to the school. “Why?”

  “She’s been pretty overwhelmed lately,” Annie said. “I know she’s got a lot going on right now with the wedding and the move, but I think it’s starting to take a toll. I’m worried about her.”

  Colin reached up, helping her untangle the strings that were too high for her to reach. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Moves are always stressful.”

  “True.” Annie stepped back, picking up the broom to finish sweeping the porch. “She’s been planning this wedding for so long. She probably just wants everything to be perfect.”

  He nodded, reassured that Annie’s concerns about Becca had nothing to do with the school. “So,” he said, leaning his shoulder against a whitewashed porch beam. “What’s he like?”

  “Who?”

  “Becca’s fiancé.”

  “Tom?” Annie glanced back up, surprised. “You’ve never met him?”

  Colin shook his head.

  Annie hesitated, then went back to sweeping. “I think I’ll let you make your own judgment when you meet him.”

  “Why? You don’t like him?”

  Annie swept the small pile of dirt into the bed of rosemary bushes and boxwoods. “I’ve only met him a few times. He doesn’t come down to the island much.”

  “But…?”

  “I didn’t dislike him,” she said carefully. “But I didn’t really like him that much either.”

  Colin frowned. He was surprised Annie hadn’t mentioned her misgivings about Becca’s fiancé before. He had gotten into the habit of stopping by the café whenever he came down to the island. Since Will was still stationed at the SEAL base in Virginia Beach and couldn’t make it home every weekend, he had asked Colin to keep an eye on Annie.

  Not that she ever needed anything. Annie was one of the most competent and independent women he’d ever met. But he’d like to think they had become good friends over the past few months. “What does Will think of him?”

  Annie glanced out at the street, lowering her voice when she saw that a few of her neighbors were within earshot. “Will doesn’t like him at all.”

  Colin’s frown deepened. Will didn’t like him either? “How many other people feel this way?”

  “Colin!” The screen door swung open and Taylor Malone ran out of the house, holding up a brand new softball mitt. “Look!”

  Colin bottled the rest of his unanswered questions about Becca, at least for now, and turned his attention on Taylor. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Della gave it to me,” Taylor said. “Mom said I could try out for the team at school next year.”

  Colin glanced back over at Annie. “They have a softball team at Heron Island Elementary?”

  “It’s a very small team,” she said, smiling.

  Colin took the glove from Taylor when she handed it to him. The leather was so shiny and stiff, it squeaked when he tried to bend it. “You’re going to need to break this in first.”

  “I know.” Her big green eyes looked up at him hopefully. “You want to play catch?”

  He laughed. “Sure, but only until Della ices that cake.”

  “Deal.” She took his hand, leading him down to the front yard.

  Sometimes, it was hard to believe this was the same kid who he’d met six months ago. She had come so far from the shy, frightened girl she’d once been.

  Reaching down, he pried the softball from the mouth of Taylor’s yellow lab, Riley, who never left her side. Wiping the slobber off the ball on the hem of his T-shirt, he wondered how the transformation had taken place without him really noticing.

  Was it possible that he’d spent too much time here?

  Had he been so focused on looking after Taylor and Annie, that he hadn’t realized some of Will’s other friends might need help?

  It was probably too late to do anything at this point, but it couldn’t hurt to ask Becca a few questions when he spent the evening with her on Saturday.

  Just to get a better picture of the situation.

  Will and Annie would want to know if their friend was making a mistake.

  There was no reason to be so nervous, Becca thought, checking her reflection in the rear view mirror one last time before stepping out of her car in downtown Annapolis two nights later. She was only about to meet the most powerful man in her state, and it was only her co-workers’ jobs, Taylor’s future, and her entire community at stake.

  Pressing a hand to her stomach, she willed her insides to settle. She’d been up past midnight scouring the Internet for articles on the impacts of school closures on rural communities. She’d read stories about towns that had shrunk in population by double-digit percentage points, local businesses that had shut down because families with young children no longer wanted to live there, property values that had dropped to record lows when locals had left in search of better opportunities.

  Heron Island was one of the last few hidden gems on the Eastern Shore, but it wouldn’t take long for a developer to swoop in and gobble up all the cheap land. The islanders had already fought off one developer last year. Would they be able to win that battle again if their community was in danger of falling apart?

  She took several deep breaths, trying to focus on the delighted squeals of a group of children tossing bits of bread to the seagulls that wheeled and dipped over Spa Creek. She had practiced her pitch to the governor so many times over the past two days, she could recite it from memory now.

  Everyone was depending on her.

  She wasn’t going to let them down.

  Closing the door to her car with a determined click, she paid the parking meter and scanned the bustling City Dock for Colin. She hadn’t expected so many tourists to
be out yet. He had said to meet near the bronze statue of Alex Hadley, but maybe they should have picked a less crowded spot.

  Her heart did another funny little stutter step when she spotted him.

  He was standing about ten yards away, watching her with that cool-as-ice gaze. A blue button down shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. His hands were dipped into the pockets of a pair of dark gray pants, and the thick, wavy black hair that swept back from his rugged face looked like it was still damp from a recent shower.

  She should have known it wouldn’t take long to find him. He wasn’t the kind of man you could easily miss in a crowd. At six-foot-four, he stood at least a head taller than everyone around him.

  Crossing the street, she threaded her way through the groups of tourists to where he stood. “Hey.” She attempted a breezy smile. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “Not long at all.”

  A group of women in their late-twenties walked by, gawking as they craned their necks to get a better look.

  She didn’t blame them.

  “I’m surprised it’s so busy here tonight.” Becca took in the lines outside the seafood restaurants surrounding the harbor. “I didn’t expect to see so many tourists out yet.”

  “It’s mostly locals,” Colin said. “The first warm Saturday of the year always draws everyone out of their homes.”

  That explained it, Becca thought as a balmy breeze brushed over her bare arms, carrying the faint scent of coffee and Old Bay Seasoning. She’d always loved Annapolis. It was the perfect sized city, not so big that it felt overwhelming, but big enough to soak in a bit of culture.

  “How was the drive?” Colin asked.

  “Good,” she said, tipping forward slightly as a group of teenagers jostled her from behind.

  Colin caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

  The moment his work-roughened fingers grazed her bare skin, an unexpected flash of heat shot through her. She drew in a breath and tried to step back, but one of her heels caught between a crack in the bricks.

  “I’ve got you,” Colin said, his strong hand holding her in place. He held her gaze for several long beats, then glanced down at the offending heel. A slow smile spread across his lips. “Nice shoes.”