Primrose Lane

by Debbie Mason

  “You’re going to flag me?”

  He typed on the keyboard. “No, I’m not going to. I already have.”

  “How could you do that to me? Do you know how embarrassing that will be for me to walk into the drugstore knowing that Mr. Carlson thinks I’m an addict?” She sniffed back angry tears and shot to her feet. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask. Why I expected any compassion or kindness from you. You made up your mind about me the first day you met me. You’re a judgmental and sanctimonious ass, Finn Gallagher. And if I never see you again, it will be too soon,” she said, repeating his hurtful words from the brunch back at him as she strode from the room. It took everything she had not to slam the door behind her. She hurried down the hall.

  “Olivia,” he called after her, sounding almost conciliatory.

  She didn’t often lose her temper and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been rude to someone. But if that’s what it took for Finn Gallagher to see reason, she’d consider using the tactic more often. She swiped a finger under her eyelashes before turning to face him. “What is it?” She kept enough snap in her voice to let him know she wasn’t a pushover.

  “Give me your keys,” he said, walking toward her with his hand extended.

  The nurse, who’d just come out of the examination room at the end of the hall, glanced their way.

  “I’m not giving you my keys,” Olivia hissed.

  “Yeah, you are. It’s obvious you haven’t slept in days, Olivia. You look like hell, and you shouldn’t be driving.”

  “How dare you! I’m going to talk to Dr. Bishop about this, you, you…”

  “Go ahead,” he said, looking almost bored.

  He was now close enough that she had to tip her head back to look up at him. He was over six two, and she’d worn flats today. She wished she could look him right in the eye, go toe to toe and nose to nose with him. “I’m going to talk to your grandmother, and your brothers, and…and your father.”

  “You do that. Because, Olivia, if you don’t get a handle on your problem, I’m going to be talking to them about you. Now give me your keys.”

  She stared at him and then stretched up on her toes, to get as close to nose to nose as she could. The action didn’t have the desired effect. He didn’t look the least bit repentant or intimidated, which was maddening. “The only problem I have is you, you and my husband, who…who…” Her eyes filled with tears, a choking sensation rising up in her throat as she was reminded of why she was here.

  She had to leave before she made a complete fool of herself. Finn had already done his level best to besmirch her reputation. She hurriedly unzipped her purse, dug inside to grab her keys, and shoved them at him. “Here.” She spun on her sandals, about to sprint down the hall before the tears started to fall when strong fingers gently closed around her bicep.

  “Olivia, if you give me half an hour, I’ll drive you to the manor. Liam or Griff can bring me—”

  “No, I can’t stay. I can’t…” She shook her head, unable to go on. Pulling her arm from his hold, she hurried down the hall.

  The nurse and receptionist looked up from where they’d been talking at the front desk. Her stomach sank at what appeared to be the disapproving looks they sent her way. Finn’s deep voice had obviously carried. If the press…She couldn’t think about that now. The press was the least of her worries.

  She bowed her head and walked quickly through the empty waiting room. She wished someone had warned her that Finn was working at the clinic. She only had herself to blame. After Stanley’s phone call, she’d been trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Knowing that she had last-minute details to firm up on next week’s wedding, a prom party, and bridal shower, no one had questioned her absence.

  Given how she was feeling, it was almost a surprise when she walked out of the white Cape Cod clinic to find the weather was just as sunny and warm as when she arrived. If the weather were to mirror her emotions, rain would be slashing down from angry black clouds, forks of jagged lightning spearing the sunbaked ground, thunder so violent it would rock the peaceful coastal community of Harmony Harbor on its moorings.

  As she tried to get a grip on those raging emotions, her gaze went to her black Lexus parked under a shade tree. Maybe the exercise and fresh air would do her good. At least she’d worn sensible shoes. She’d walk until she dropped from exhaustion, and hopefully then she’d sleep through the night.

  She thought about the upcoming events at the manor and considered cutting her walk short and returning to Greystone to work. But as angry as she was with Finn, she wasn’t enamored with the idea of running into his grandmother. And there was nothing that said she couldn’t work while she walked. She hefted her purse onto her shoulder and pulled her phone out of the side pocket.

  Thankfully, she was the list maker of all list makers and had stored several on her phone. Though there was nothing that made her happier than finding a beautiful planner or notebook and filling them too. It calmed her to have a plan, to have her days, weeks, and months mapped out. If her days were full, she wouldn’t have time to remember. Maybe one day she’d get back to filling her planners with her hopes and dreams for the future. She’d learned the hard way that dreams don’t always come true, but she found having a plan gave her a feeling of control.

  So that’s what she’d do. She’d feel better once she’d listed all the reasons why Stanley’s plan would fall through. Her stomach plunged to her feet at the thought that she should make a list of what she’d do if he successfully completed his mission. She didn’t need a list. She already knew she couldn’t do what he expected her to.

  Which she’d told him when he’d called her from the airport. He’d been on his way to Kenya. It was above and beyond what most lawyers would do for a client and friend, especially a deceased one. But Stanley had been more than just Nathan’s friend; he’d taken on the role of his big brother. Olivia still hadn’t found a way to forgive Stanley for keeping her in the dark about her husband’s secret life.

  “Ma’am!” someone called out at the same time a car door opened in front of her and clipped her on the hip. Olivia sucked in a pained gasp but forced a smile and waved off the man’s apologies. It wasn’t his fault she was distracted. And obviously working on her phone while walking along the twisty, narrow streets wasn’t ideal either.

  She considered heading for Main Street, but she knew too many of the shop owners and wasn’t up for friendly chitchat, so she decided it would be safer to walk along the harbor. It was close to the dinner hour on a weekday; she wouldn’t have to battle any crowds on the waterfront because the brightly painted fishermen’s shacks that housed local artisans didn’t open until mid-June, when tourist season was well under way.

  She walked on the sidewalk down the hill, passing by Colonials, Cape Cods, and Victorians that had once belonged to merchants and sea captains. Harmony Harbor had been founded in the early seventeenth century by William Gallagher and was steeped in maritime history. Plaques commemorating the history of the homes and their prominent owners were displayed on stone and wrought-iron fences partially hidden by bridal wreath spirea with their tiny white blossoms and arching branches. Rhododendrons showed off their lush clumps of shocking pink blossoms.

  Olivia loved the picturesque town with its family-owned boutiques, art galleries, and gift shops. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere and the strong sense of community had been missing from her world in Boston. Somehow she fit here. She felt safe and protected. But Finn with his threats and accusations had managed to color her perception of the small town she loved.

  Maybe she was being unfair laying the blame solely at his feet. So much had happened in such a short time that it was no wonder she felt unhinged. Revealing her true identity was difficult enough, but then for Stanley to reveal Nathan’s last request…

  A horn beeped, alerting her to the fact that she’d veered into the street. She lifted a hand in apology and got back on the sidewalk. As she got closer to the harbor
, she heard the low bleat of the fishing boats’ horns announcing their return.

  She was used to the briny smell of the ocean by now, but it was sharper here by the docks. Walking along the paved path past the marine blue, citrus yellow, and fire-engine-red fisherman shacks, she spotted an empty wooden bench on the dock and headed toward it.

  She noticed an older man fishing, a dark-haired man in a gray hoodie leaning against the rail as she took a seat on the bench. The man’s gaze briefly landed on her and then moved on as he appeared to scan the area. He straightened when two men approached. They glanced in her direction, and she bowed her head. She may have led a sheltered life but it was obvious to her what was going on. The man in the hoodie was selling drugs.

  There wasn’t a huge issue with drugs in Harmony Harbor, but there had been problems in nearby Bridgeport. No matter how desperate she was for sleep and to get her nerves under control, Olivia would never stoop so low as to buy street drugs. Or so she’d thought until moments later when her phone pinged with an incoming text from Stanley.

  Chapter Seven

  His father, sometimes referred to as the silver fox by the women in town because of his supposed resemblance to Paul Newman, had his face buried in the Harmony Harbor Gazette. He cast a surprised glance over his shoulder when Finn walked in the front door of the brick two-story on Breakwater Way. “I thought you were going to call me for a ride. Don’t tell me you walked home.”

  Finn tossed the keys for Olivia’s Lexus on the hall table, debating whether to tell his father the truth. Despite what Olivia thought, he wasn’t trying to shame her or ruin her reputation. He hadn’t flagged her in the system.

  Because of her cash and contacts, he’d told her that he had, in hopes she wouldn’t immediately go elsewhere, that the thought he’d flagged her would make her think about what she was doing and realize she needed help—and not the help that came from escaping in a drug-induced haze. “I didn’t want to bother you. Olivia lent me her car. I could use a ride to the manor though. I need to return—”

  His father rattled the newspaper and waggled his eyebrows at Finn. “Olivia, eh? I told your brothers you were interested in her. Your old man’s still got it. I saw right through your act.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but that was no act. The woman is a walking disaster. I’ve never been around anyone so clumsy in my life.”

  “Olivia? She’s one of the most graceful and elegant women I know.”

  “Okay, are we talking about the same Olivia? Because the one I’m talking about took me out more than once last week.” He was going to list off the incidents at the tide pool, in the closet at the lighthouse, and his almost-encounter with the tree at the brunch, but his dad had only borne witness to the event on Mother’s Day, and he didn’t want to have to explain the other two. Hopefully his dad had missed the more than once part of his remark.

  “So what? It was Mother’s Day. A hard day for a woman who lost her child. You should give her a second chance, son. She’s a sweet woman.”

  He knew his old man well enough to change the subject. “I’ll just ice my leg and then we can head to the manor.”

  “Sure, no problem.” His father frowned. “What happened? Your limp is more pronounced.”

  Your sweet and graceful Olivia struck again, Finn thought. Good thing the mark from the stethoscope tube hitting him in the face had disappeared. That would be harder to explain away. “First day back at work. It’ll take some time to adjust.”

  “Maybe you should give it another couple of weeks. I’ll talk to Doc Bishop and—”

  “No, I’m good, Dad.” Finn didn’t want to stay home. The last thing he needed was more time to think. He didn’t just like to keep busy; he had to. Miller came over and dropped a ball at his feet. “Later, buddy,” he said, giving the retriever a quick rubdown before heading to the refrigerator.

  As he pulled out the bag of ice from the freezer drawer, the sound of the fishing boats’ horns came through the open window. He smiled. There were things he didn’t miss about home, but there were plenty he did. He walked to the window. This was one of them, the sights, sounds, and smell of the harbor. If ever he settled down, he’d live by the sea.

  His gaze traveled over the rocks he’d clambered up and down as a kid, the trees he used to climb and swing from, the dock he used to…He frowned at the woman sitting on the bench in a familiar white skirt and sleeveless top, wearing a pair of shiny red flat sandals that matched her expensive red bag. It was Olivia. If he hadn’t recognized the outfit, he would have recognized her honey-blond hair. Her clothes were nothing special, but she had beautiful hair, he thought as the sun painted the strands gold.

  She was bent over her phone, and then her head came up sharply. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see the expression on her face, but her body reacted as though she’d taken a hit. She seemed to be looking at something on the dock. He followed the direction of her gaze. Three men were talking just down from her. A guy in a hoodie reached into his pocket, pulled out a small bag, and handed it to one of the other men.

  Finn couldn’t believe what was happening right before his eyes. That wasn’t completely true. Whether you lived in a small town, big city, or in the country, drugs were readily available. But here and now in front of a woman who was desperate to get her hands on what that guy was apparently offering? It was like the universe was conspiring against all of Finn’s good intentions, against Olivia too. Maybe he was wrong and she was looking at the schooners or the old man fishing. God, he hoped she wasn’t stupid enough to buy street drugs.

  She stood up, grabbed her purse, and then glanced in the men’s direction, hesitating for a minute as though politely waiting for the transaction to be completed. Disappointment and anger twisted his gut. He couldn’t believe she was going to do it. Something about the way the taller guy reached in the back pocket of his jeans drew Finn’s attention.

  He focused on the guy’s profile. He knew him. He was sure of it. And if it was who he thought it was, he had to stop Olivia. He had to stop her anyway, but unless she wanted to end up behind bars, he had to do it before she got any closer to the men and made her intentions known. But there was no way he’d make it down there in time.

  Wrenching open the screen, he yelled, “Olivia!” As he suspected, his voice didn’t carry above the boats’ motors or the seagulls.

  “Son, why are you yelling for Olivia?” His dad’s confused yet hopeful question came from the living room.

  It was a good question. Why should it bother him that the woman was going to wind up in jail? She wasn’t family or a friend. In fact, it’d be easier if he didn’t have anything to do with Olivia Davenport. Because sometimes when he looked at her, the sorrow in her eyes grabbed him by the throat. Her loss reminded him too much of his own.

  “Better get your ears checked, Dad. I hit my knee on the fridge and yelled O Lordie.” He rolled his eyes at his pathetic excuse and then went back to tracking Olivia, praying she’d come to her senses on her own.

  She took a step toward the three men.

  He should have known better, he thought, scanning the room. His gaze landed on his best shot. “Come here, boy.”

  Miller galloped to his side. Finn grabbed the tennis ball from the dog’s mouth. But as soon as he drew back his arm, Finn realized throwing it through the window would limit the amount of power he could get behind it.

  Cursing Olivia under his breath, he grabbed a chair and climbed out the window. “When I get a hold of you, Olivia Davenport, you’re goin’ wish—” His knee hit the window frame, and he broke off on a loud curse.

  “Finn, what’s going on—”

  “Just having a game of catch with Miller, and he nipped me.” The dog barked enthusiastically at Finn’s announcement, bouncing from one side of the kitchen to the other. “Yeah, yeah, as soon as I save Olivia from herself,” Finn grumbled, lowering himself to the ground.

  Turning to scramble carefully over the rocks, he quickly searched
out his best vantage point. She was walking toward the men, who just then had turned to look in her direction. He imagined her giving them her wide, innocent smile and drew back his arm and fired the ball.

  “You were about to buy drugs in front of an undercover cop. What did you want me to do?” Finn asked Olivia, who sat in the passenger seat of the Lexus holding an ice pack to the side of her face.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I wasn’t buying drugs.”

  “Give me some credit. You were at the clinic not thirty minutes earlier practically begging me to give you drugs.”

  “You make it sound so lurid and sleazy. I wanted my prescription renewed, that’s all.” She moved the ice pack to her temple and winced. “Did you ever think of calling out to me or calling my cell phone instead of beaning me in the head with a ball?”

  “I tried shouting at you, and I would have called your cell phone if I had your number, but I don’t. You wouldn’t have answered anyway. Instead of yelling at me and giving me grief, you might give some thought to thanking me.”

  “I never yelled at you.”

  “Yeah, you did. Just ask my dad and anyone else who was down on the dock.”

  Olivia drew in a deep breath and then slowly released it before glancing at him. “All right, thank you for trying to help me”—she made one air quote because her other hand was occupied—“even if it was misguided and unnecessary and you gave me a concussion. And I appreciate you keeping those same misguided accusations to yourself and telling your dad you were trying to see if Miller would jump out of the window and go after the ball. Though, if you ask me, you should have come up with something more believable.”

  “My dad believed me. He should, seeing as I did the same thing to Max, our first golden, when I was twelve.”

  “Yes, but that’s my point. You were twelve. You hadn’t been shot and recovering from your injuries when you climbed out of the window then. It wasn’t very smart, you know. You could have fallen out the window or, worse, tumbled down the rocks.”