‘Oh, Abe.’
‘What?’ he said defensively. ‘I need more coffee.’
‘Ask her over here,’ his mother said on a sigh.
‘She doesn’t want to come over here.’ Abe watched as she and Daisy moved through the room, greeting people with half-hugs and kisses. Daisy, with her long blonde curls and buoyant smile, would always get a bright reaction. Daisy was so fun, so gregarious and happy, that everyone lit up when they saw her.
What Abe had never seen before, though, was the way they reacted to Fiona. Elbert Romo took Fiona’s hand and kissed the back of it chivalrously. Of course, that was just Elbert, but then Fiona greeted Deacon, the local ironworker’s union president. Deacon smiled so big Abe thought it might hurt his jaw later. As Daisy rolled her chair and Fiona walked, people leaned in to them. Wanting to be near them. It wasn’t just Daisy. They cared for Fiona, too.
He was an idiot for not seeing it before. And damn it, he wanted to be near her as bad as anyone else did. More.
‘Go on,’ said his mother. ‘Have her sit with us.’
‘She won’t want to, Mom.’ Fiona had acted so unhappy the other night, and he still hadn’t figured out why. It had started when he slowed their kiss down … but that couldn’t be it. Had he hurt her feelings or something? What had he said to make her get that overwhelmed look in her eyes?
But he raised a hand and waved anyway.
Daisy gave a small whoop and, not glancing back at Fiona, rolled toward him. ‘Just the guy I wanted to talk to. I heard my friend here jumped off your boat.’
‘Sit with us, won’t you?’ Hope asked. ‘You and Fiona.’
‘Happily.’ Daisy set her wheel lock. ‘Come on, Fee. Sit.’
Fiona looked miserable. Had he done that to her?
‘Hi,’ he said.
Fiona mumbled something and stared, apparently unable to decide which side to sit on.
It looked like he may have fucked everything up on Friday night. Maybe she’d figured out why he’d asked her out in the first place.
But she had no idea how much he’d loved being with her.
And damn, he wanted her to sit on his side of the booth.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Knitters have a funny sense of humor. Check your bags when you get home to make sure they haven’t snuck a little acrylic out their door and into yours, in the way people leave zucchini on doorsteps in summer. – E. C.
Fiona would kill Daisy. She would murder her slowly. Maybe with a spoon from this very diner. How could Daisy just roll over here after listening to Fiona spill her guts about that awful date the other night? What kind of a friend did that?
The kind of friend who was tugging on her front belt loop. ‘Sit there. Next to Abe. So I can see all of you.’
Fiona would look ridiculous now if she took the coward’s route and sat next to Hope. She’d look scared.
She wasn’t scared.
She was just … dang, she didn’t know what she was.
Fiona slid into the booth carefully. Slowly. She took great pains not to touch any part of Abe, though God knew she wanted to.
Hope said, ‘I hear you like my son.’
Daisy let out a guffaw and reached into the bag attached to her left handle. ‘I have got to knit for this. And I’d kill for coffee. Where’s Shirley?’
Fiona was hoping she hadn’t quite understood what Hope was getting at. ‘Your son is quite nice.’ As if he were a cup of tea.
Hope’s smile was kind, the way it had been when she’d explained the meaning of Steinbeck’s ‘The Chrysanthemums’ in seventh grade. ‘Well, dear, I heard you got drunk, professed your love for him, fell off his boat, and then passed out once you were hauled back on board.’
‘Holy shit,’ said Fiona.
‘Mom!’ Abe looked horrified.
Daisy leaned forward eagerly. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘From Gordon York, who talked to Sugar Watson, who knows Zeke Hawkins from the bait shop.’
‘I’m gonna kill him,’ said Abe. ‘He’s fired.’
‘He’s actually your employee?’ asked Hope. ‘I thought you were just pals.’
‘Goddammit, I’ll hire him just to fire his ass. He knows that’s not what happened.’
Hope faced Fiona squarely. The small old woman came off as both sweet and intimidating, just like she had so many years ago. She looked like she was after the truth, and would know if Fiona moved away from it even the smallest bit. Hope said, ‘So what actually happened?’
Abe said, ‘Mom –’
Fiona cut him off. ‘I’ll tell you what happened.’ She couldn’t look like more of an idiot, could she? If people believed what they were hearing, she was already well past idiot and into moron. ‘I took a Dramamine on the boat. I react to them way more than I knew.’
Hope nodded, her gaze steady. ‘After how much alcohol?’
‘None.’
‘Other medications?’
‘None.’
‘I believe you. Go on.’
‘When I was helping a kid stay on the boat, I fell off. That’s all.’
‘Did you make a pass at my son?’
‘Is making a fool of yourself the same as making a pass?’
‘Often,’ said Hope, who looked like she was trying to hide a smile.
‘Then yes, I did.’
‘How?’
Fiona shoved her hands under her thighs and pretended she was in a dark, quiet room all by herself. Not sitting next to the man who heated her inner core to temperatures that thermometers couldn’t read. While his mother grilled her. ‘I might have mentioned something about a crush.’ She closed her eyes and wished for invisibility.
‘Past tense? Or present tense?’
‘Mom,’ said Abe on a groan. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Fiona. And strangely, it was. The worst had happened. She’d been on a date with Abe, the single sexiest man alive. The man with the eyes that reminded her of the sky on a clear day. The man who had kissed her, for God’s sakes.
The man who hadn’t thought her sexy enough to keep kissing. The man who’d tricked her into a date so he could change her mind on local politics.
So that was the worst part. His mother asking super-awkward questions – that was minor in comparison. ‘The crush is still present tense. I just plan on fixing that.’ Fiona could feel Abe’s tension, as if she were plugged into the same socket he was. She continued, ‘It’s no big deal. Honestly.’
‘And now you’ll date.’
‘Jesus, Mom. You can’t do this to someone. You can’t just –’
Hope held up a hand. ‘And you’ll fall in love.’
Abe said to Fiona, ‘I didn’t know she’d do this.’
Fiona shook her head and addressed Hope. ‘With all due respect, ma’am, I doubt you’re right about that.’ She was aware that Abe could barely stand to sit next to her, he was about to climb over the back of the seat at any second, just to get away from her.
‘You’ll have to learn to knit.’
‘What?’
‘If any woman loves my son, she should know how to knit.’
Abe put his head down on the table and rocked it back and forth.
‘Eliza Carpenter tried to teach me once,’ said Fiona.
‘Oh!’ Hope’s face betrayed surprise. ‘That’s right. She did. I remember that.’
Abe frowned at them. ‘What …?’
‘I’m still not good with my hands when it comes to stuff like that.’
Hope said, ‘That can change. I’ll reteach you. Come to my house tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I have to work –’
‘Get that boy who works for you to cover.’ Her voice brooked no opposition.
‘Ma’am –’
‘Stop calling me that, please. It’s Hope. And tell me how your date went the other night.’
Abe half-stood, one hand on the table, making a shooing motion at Fiona. ‘Mom. You’re embarrassing all of
us.’
Hope ignored Abe and leaned farther forward over the table. ‘Did he talk to you about the lighthouse?’
‘Here, Abe. I’ll let you out.’ Fiona stood and leaned against Daisy’s chair. Abe’s hand pressed against her waist for balance as he scooted past her and Fiona took a moment to feel it. Even that slight touch, even the most casual …
‘I’ll pay for breakfast, Mom, but you can finish eating it on your own.’
Hope humphed. ‘Ungrateful. See if I knit you a sweater this Christmas.’
Pulling crumpled money out of his pocket and tossing it on the table, Abe said, ‘Did you forget you can’t knit anything but gigantic scarves anymore?’
Fiona had been slipping back onto the booth’s seat, but she froze. ‘Don’t be rude to your mother.’
‘Me? She’s the one putting us both on the spot!’
‘She just cares about the lighthouse,’ said Fiona, noticing that Daisy was now knitting so fast her needles were a blur. They were drawing attention from all over the restaurant.
‘Only because the building reminds her of my father. Just like everything else in this goddamn town.’ Abe clapped his hand on the back of the booth, sending a plastic thud through the vinyl.
‘Please,’ said Hope, desperation in her voice. ‘The lighthouse is all I have left of my husband. Don’t take that from me, Fiona.’
Something short and taut snapped inside Fiona, but she stayed standing. ‘The lighthouse has nothing to do with your husband. And I have a bigger investment in it than either of you ever could.’
The words drew Abe up short, and he turned. His eyes were the intense blue of sea glass still wet from the waves. ‘I understand that you’ve got emotion tied up in knocking that old thing down, but we do, too. It’s worth talking about.’
Fiona pulled back her shoulders. ‘Talk at city council.’
Daisy’s needles clicked faster as she watched. ‘Oooh.’
He took a step toward her again, the one he’d taken away. Now he was so close. Too close. Fiona could smell that combination of sea-salt and sharp metal coming from him, and she cursed herself for noticing.
‘You don’t believe in change,’ she said. ‘But towns change. They get better, and someone has to make that happen. Don’t you see that?’
‘I believe in progress,’ said Abe. ‘Within reason.’
‘Do you? Do you think we should have built the city-funded park over on Biddle Road?’
Abe scowled. ‘That was and remains a terrible idea. They’ve been putting in the playground for what, seven months? And it’s still not done? They should have left it as the oak grove it was.’
‘And the extension on the library?’
‘That library was good enough for us when we were kids, wasn’t it? My card still works. Books still stay dry and safe there. It’s not like they had a real reason to expand.’
Fiona glanced at Hope, whose face gave nothing away. ‘Room for more books isn’t a good enough reason for you?’
‘They already have enough room for books. They’re adding a conference room and a bigger women’s bathroom. We’ve already got enough meeting rooms in this town, and you’re telling me there’s some kind of line crisis at the girls’ room? I’m not buying it.’
Fiona was startled that he knew this. He did follow items in the paper, then. That was something. ‘You’re stuck. You think Cypress Hollow should stay the way it’s always been.’
‘Nothing stays the same. But some things are good and should be saved. Should be held on to. Saved.’
‘Fine,’ she said, stepping carefully around him. ‘Bring it to city council.’
‘If I do …’ Abe made it sound like a threat.
Hope spoke to her one more time before she could respond to him. ‘Come see me tomorrow.’
‘I won’t be able to learn to knit. I already know that.’ Hope obviously just wanted to talk to her more about the lighthouse. Why would she put herself through that?
‘I knew your mother. Before she married your father. Before … Come tomorrow.’
Hope was a clever woman.
Damn it.
Fiona looked down at Daisy. ‘Enjoying the show?’
Daisy dropped the knitting in her lap and clapped. ‘Do it all again.’
‘You’re a terrible friend.’
Abe was already striding away out of the diner, his gait sturdy, determined, as though he were walking the deck of his boat in a storm.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Memories are half of what holds your knitting together. The other half is tension. – E. C.
A second storm blew in from the south, battering the sides of boats and houseboats that had been spared by the last round. It matched Abe’s mood – dark and thunderous.
He’d had to cancel his tours, and they’d been good ones, more than fifteen passengers on each roster. It would have been a sizeable chunk of change to be able to put into his pocket. Instead, he was stuck in the harbormaster’s office at the marina, catching up on paperwork he’d been too busy lately to process.
Abe filed yet another barge application and sighed. Damned paperwork. But besides filing licenses and accepting dock fees, the harbormaster’s gig was pretty cushy. He didn’t have to pay rent for his houseboat mooring, and he could make his own schedule with the whale and fishing trips.
Which was good, since he was going to need all the time he could find this week to come up with how to present his idea to city council. He’d already filed the paperwork with the state – the lighthouse could automatically be considered an historic site, because of its age. But because of its current state, it had to be brought up to code before it was protected – something that would take time and, more importantly, money.
He shook his head to clear the thought and stared at the license he was trying to file. Simple numerical order seemed to have fled his brain temporarily.
That kiss …
Just a kiss, right? Just a girl on a beach. There’d been lots of girls on beaches over the years.
But that one …
A soft knock came on the door of the portable trailer.
‘It’s unlocked!’ he yelled, shoving the sheet of paper into the very back of the file folder. Close enough for government work, right?
‘Hey there, Tiger.’
Abe’s head snapped up.
Rayna. She was the only woman to ever call him that, and he had to admit, he’d always loved it. Having Tiger breathed into your ear made a man feel like growling in just the right way.
Rayna knew it, too.
‘You look good.’ It had to be said. She did. Her hair, that long, flowing mane, was shiny, like she’d just washed it with the shellac he used on his wooden decking. Her eyes were smoky with something dark that looked like it would come off on her pillow or whatever got too close. She looked like someone on TV, someone pretty and smart and kind. And she was all those things. His mother had always said Rayna was the nicest girl who looked like trouble.
‘Thanks,’ she said simply, accepting the compliment as her due.
‘This is a surprise,’ he said, gesturing to the only extra chair in the room, a folding metal one rusting at each foot.
Gracefully, she sat. ‘I know. I’ve been meaning to drop by. It was good to see you at the council meeting. I tried to get over to you, but it was so crowded in there …’
But you don’t drop by, he thought. Rayna hadn’t dropped in on him once, not ever. Not in the years that had passed since she’d broken his heart, run off with another man, settled down and had that man’s babies. Not once. After a couple of years, he’d started being cordial to her in public. He waved back at her at the grocery store (ignoring the checkers’ whispers), and he’d helped her drag her kayak out of the water one morning, but apart from neighborly encounters, they’d never really talked.
‘How’s Tommy?’
She smiled, a smile that could haunt a man’s dreams. Ask him how he knew. ‘Busy with the hardware store. You k
now how that goes, running your own business. He’s always got something up his sleeve.’
‘And the kids?’ He couldn’t really care less, but it was what people said.
‘They’re great. Big now. Little Tom’s almost seven, and Ruth’s five, if you can believe that.’
‘Growing up fast.’ Words, they were just words, just something to fill the air while he waited to hear what she was really here for.
‘They do,’ she said. ‘Like weeds.’
He sat in the desk chair that always rattled and threatened to break underneath him, praying the imminent collapse didn’t come today. That would be fun – hitting the dirt in front of the woman who’d thrown him into it once upon a time.
Folding his hands carefully on the desk, he waited.
‘I heard you’re gunning to save the lighthouse.’
‘I am.’
‘That doesn’t seem very you,’ she said.
It shouldn’t have, but her inference made him grumpy all over again. Why did people seem to think he couldn’t take an interest in civic matters? ‘I don’t appreciate that,’ he said, opening a cabinet drawer just so he could shove it closed again. ‘I happen to care more about this town than most people do. I don’t want it to change into another Santa Barbara, or something worse.’
‘Oh, come on, there’s little chance of that happening,’ she said. Her voice was teasing. It always had been. ‘You remember when I cut my hair?’
He stared at her. ‘You serious?’ Like he could forget a fight of that magnitude. He remembered every disagreement they’d ever had. And that one had been a doozy.
‘I asked if you’d mind.’
‘And I said yeah.’
She smiled, that sweet crooked smile that used to affect him like a gut punch. Funny, it didn’t seem to have the same force anymore. When had that changed?
‘And I said screw you.’
Abe inclined his head. ‘Something like that.’
‘Then I went and chopped off my hair.’
‘You looked like a boy,’ said Abe, knowing he shouldn’t.
‘Damn you, Atwell.’ But there was no heat in her words. ‘I looked cute as hell.’
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