by Meg Tilly
Damn. “Sorry,” Maggie said, keeping her voice low, as if that would help her sister go back to sleep. “Your light was on, so I thought—”
“I’m awake. I’m awake. I was just”—Eve opened the door—“resting my eyes for a second.” She stifled a yawn and plopped a companionable arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Are you all right, honey? Do you need to talk?”
“I just—I wanted to let you know . . .” Maggie took a deep breath and then made the leap. “I’ve decided I want to stay on Solace Island, too.”
Twenty-four
MAGGIE HUNG UP the phone. She was shaking. Literally shaking, from a potent cocktail of emotions that were surging through her. Frustration and anger were leading the charge.
“What did Brett say?” Eve asked.
Maggie blew out a puff of air. A headache was threatening to take up residence behind her eyes. She rubbed her face and then turned.
Her sister was waiting expectantly on the sofa, her legs tucked up under her.
“He said I was a vindictive, ball-busting bitch—”
“What a dickhead!” Eve said, rocketing to her feet.
The outrage on her sister’s face helped defrost some of the numbness that seemed to have descended on Maggie.
“And this was because?”
Eve’s expression reminded Maggie of the black-and-white kitten their mother had brought home from the pound when they were kids. Wide-eyed, arched back, bristling fur, claws extended. Maggie had a brief image of her sister flying through the air with a bloodcurdling screech and landing on Brett’s shoulders, all teeth and claws, spitting with rage and ready to do damage.
“He was unable to secure a loan.”
“That’s weird. Comfort Homes would be collateral, so you think it would be a no-brainer. Maybe he’s bluffing, trying to grind you on price.”
“That’s what I thought, but apparently he has a terrible FICO score—a lot of outstanding debt—and they won’t give him a loan without me attached.”
“Are you kidding?” Eve said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You didn’t check his FICO score before you moved to Arizona with him?”
“Why would I do that? He was my boyfriend and we were in love. I trusted him.”
“Wow.” Eve sat back down. “That blows my mind. If I date a guy and we’re starting to get serious? I check his credit rating, because how a man handles his debt, whether he pays people and businesses what they are owed, will tell you a lot about his moral character.” She was gearing up to full-throttle big-sister mode. “You are so lucky he bailed on you! You want to know why?”
“Because he’s a cheater and a creep?”
“Ha!” Eve said, batting her answer aside. “That’s peanuts compared to the pain-in-the-ass pickle you would have found yourself in if you’d actually married the guy! If you’d married him, and filed joint taxes—which most married couples do—then all of his debt would’ve become your debt. Wouldn’t matter if you divorced one year later. You would still have to pay off everything that he owed. Everything. As it stands now, you are tied business-wise. You need to cut ties with this loser and cut them fast.”
Maggie sank into the desk chair, suddenly feeling a little weak-kneed. “I had no idea.” Her mind spun through an alternate reality of what her life would now be like if she’d actually married the guy.
“You okay?” she heard Eve ask.
“Yeah. I’m great,” she said. And she was. “Better than great. Lucky is what I am. Can I borrow your computer for a second?”
“Sure.” Eve picked up her computer and handed it to Maggie, who booted up a search engine and started typing. “What are you looking up?”
“The phone number for Pondstone Inc. Here it is.”
She picked up the phone and punched in the number. She had slight butterflies in her stomach, but that was to be expected.
The receptionist picked up on the second ring.
“I’d like to speak with Gerry Pondstone, please.”
“Who’s calling?” the male voice on the other end asked.
“Margaret Harris, from Comfort Homes.”
“One moment, please.” Some tinny music began to filter through the earpiece. No need to be nervous, she told herself. He’ll either want to or not.
“Hello, Maggie?” His gruff voice reminded her of her dad.
“Hi, Gerry. How are you doing?”
“Good. Good. How’re your parents?”
“Enjoying retirement.”
“Give them my best,” he said.
“I will. Look, Gerry, you mentioned that you and your cousin were thinking about expanding your operations to Phoenix. I’m going to be selling my portion of Comfort Homes and wanted to give you first dibs. Heads up: the situation’s a little complicated.”
“This have anything to do with that punk who dumped you?”
“That’s right. I’ve decided to move and want to sell. I do own sixty percent of the company. However—”
“Well, then, we have no problem. I’ll need to talk it over with Larry, but it’s just a formality. We’ll make you a fair offer. Who’s your lawyer?”
“Ed Sheffman.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, my dad hooked me up with him. I’ll let Sarah Johnson—who handles our accounting—know that it’s okay to give you access to the books and any other documentation you might need to review.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get this party started. Should be able to get something drawn up fairly quickly.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Gerry. Bye.” Maggie hung up.
Again she was shaking, but in a good way this time. And there was Eve, leaping around the living room, pumping her fists into the air and high-fiving imaginary fellow celebrators. When she noticed Maggie had hung up the phone, her silent celebration became a vocal one.
“Whoo-hoo! Go get ’em, girl!” Eve crowed. “So, what’d Gerry Pondstone say?”
“He wants to go for it—he’s going to talk it over with his cousin, but he assured me it was just a formality. They’ve had their eye on our company for some time now. It will take a few days for their lawyers to draw up an offer. If it’s a clean and fair one, I’ll pass it on to my lawyer to hash out the details, and hopefully we’ll have a nice chunk of change to plow into our new business.”
“Brett’s going to shit himself,” Eve said with relish.
“Yeah. He won’t be pleased,” Maggie said, remembering how much he’d screamed at her over the phone. Acting as if his inability to get a loan was her fault. No telling what kind of rage he’d fly into when he realized she hadn’t been bluffing about selling to Pondstone Inc.
She rolled her shoulders to try to dissipate the prickling tension that was building there. Brett was behind her now. She was on Solace Island with her sister, and the future stretched out before them like a promise shimmering on the horizon.
Twenty-five
THE TIDE WAS out, so Maggie had convinced Eve to take a break from their number-crunching, list-making, and brainstorming and go for a walk along the bay’s edge. And if Luke happened to be collecting oysters or digging clams or out for a seaside run himself, so much the better.
A heron had been standing motionless on a rock outcropping at one point on their walk, patiently awaiting the arrival of an unsuspecting meal. Maggie and Eve watched a harbor seal surface, its sleek brown head idly turning in their direction to give them a full-on view of dark eyes, huge in its whiskered face. Then sploosh and it was gone.
They came upon a half-eaten fish and a jellyfish the size of a dinner plate, stranded by the outgoing tide. Tiny sand crabs scuttled away as they approached, slipping under rocks among the glistening seaweed and broken shells.
But there was no Luke to be seen.
Maggie glanced over as they passed his house. All she could se
e was the upper portion of the peaked roof and part of the stone chimney. Nevertheless, the place called to her, cajoling her to take the switchback up to his house, to knock on his door—
“Is that where he lives?” Eve’s voice cut through her daydream.
“I think so,” Maggie said. “Hard to tell for certain from down here.”
“Figured he was close by. I was up at the crack of dawn, out in the far field. Starting a new painting—”
“Eve, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you were able to break through your blank canvas block—”
“Yeah, well—” Eve shrugged. “It might turn out to be crap, but at least I’ve finally got my brush in some paint. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. You missed a glorious sunrise, sleeping like a log, but guess who was up?”
“You,” Maggie said dutifully.
“Aaand . . .” Eve grinned, eyebrows raised. “Mr. Hunk-on- a-stick.” Eve nudged her in the ribs and wiggled her eyebrows. “He was stripped down to his shorts. That guy is built. It was very distracting, to say the least. Was doing some sort of crazy-ass drills down on the beach. In the water, out of the water, must have been freezing his butt off. Then he did a bunch of very impressive tuck and rolls and a series of moves that had him flying through the air like some kind of ninja. His landings were a little off, probably on account of his weak leg. Do you know what happened there?”
“No. He didn’t mention it.”
“Well, messed-up leg or not, the man is fit. He finished up with a brutal session of burpees, sit-ups, and push-ups that would have had me puking, and I’m no slouch in the fitness department. That man is super-intense about his workouts. I was exhausted just watching him.”
“I wonder why he feels the need to push himself so hard, especially with his bum leg?”
“Maybe he was fat as a kid?” Eve said. She picked up a long strand of seaweed and swirled it into a design on the sand. “Got bullied. Is terrified of ever being vulnerable like that again.”
Maggie shook her head. “I can’t see Luke ever getting bullied.”
Eve laughed. “Yeah, me either.”
They walked a bit farther and then turned around and headed home.
* * *
• • •
SOMETHING HAD BROUGHT Luke out of his house and onto the cliff. And once he got there, he knew what it was. He saw the slight figures of Maggie and her sister walking back toward their cottage. They stopped to pick up a shell or rock, oohed and aahed over it, then released it.
Samson poked his wet nose into Luke’s hand. Perfect! he thought. “Go on, boy,” Luke said, pointing at the women, who were just about to disappear around the outcropping of rocks he called the Three Sisters.
Samson looked at him, cocking his head.
“Go get ’em,” Luke said encouragingly.
Samson gave an excited sideways hop and lowered his chest toward the ground, his butt in the air, his tail going a mile a minute.
“No.” Luke moaned. “It’s not wrestling time. I want you to find Maggie and Eve—come on, boy. Where’re Maggie and Eve?” Even as Luke said it, he knew it was probably hopeless. It wasn’t a command they’d ever worked on.
Samson did another sideways hop. “Woof!” he barked happily, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
Luke sighed.
Well, he knew where the women were headed. He returned to his house, grabbed his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter and a beef chew from a drawer in the mudroom, and then snapped a leash on Samson’s collar.
“Let’s go, boy,” he said. “I have important work for you to do.”
* * *
• • •
“I HIGHLIGHTED THE best of the bunch in yellow,” Eve said, sliding some rental listings across the kitchen table to Maggie with one hand and taking a sip of her jasmine green tea with the other. “The three with red stars? Those are my favorites, and I think we should look at them first. Although you never know. Sometimes something sounds wonderful and turns out to be a steaming pile of—”
Maggie quirked an eyebrow. “A steaming pile of Brett, perhaps?”
“Yeah.” Eve chuckled, shaking her fingertips. “Yucky. We’re gonna run from those.”
Thunk!
“What was that?” Maggie said, getting up and heading for the door. “Hope a bird didn’t fly into the window.” She opened the door and looked down. There was some sort of . . . What is that? A dried-up stick or—
With a sharp woof and the thunder of paws, Samson burst out of the woods and raced toward her at a dead gallop.
“What the hell?” Eve said, looking over Maggie’s shoulder.
“Hey, Samson,” Maggie called, her heart lifting, because if Samson was here, Luke must not be far off. “Whatcha doing, boy?”
Samson skidded to a stop in front of her and picked up the stick thing from the welcome mat.
“What do you have there?” she asked, as the large dog grinned at her around the thing in his mouth. “Is that for me?” She reached out, and he dropped it in her hand. It was a bit slimy from drool.
Samson turned, woofed proudly, ran toward the woods, then returned and sat looking up at her, his tail thumping on the porch floor.
“Samson.”
Maggie looked up. She could feel heat flushing her face. Luke was ambling down the path, looking ten times more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.
“Hi, Luke.”
“Hi there. Sorry. Is he bothering you?” He clapped his hands, and Samson bounded to his side.
“No. Not at all,” Maggie said. “He brought me his . . .”
Samson suddenly pivoted and gave a sharp woof, nose pointed at the drive. The front end of a dark SUV appeared around the bend. Only for a split second, then backed up.
“You expecting someone?” Luke asked, glancing over his shoulder, but the SUV had already disappeared from view.
“No. They must have turned down the wrong drive.” She grinned at him, remembering the evening they’d first met. “We know how easy that is to do.”
Luke smiled back at her, silent laughter crinkling the outer edges of his eyes.
The dog nudged her hand with his wet nose, pulling her gaze back to his shaggy gray face, his body quivering with anticipation.
“Hey, boy. You want this—” Maggie bent her head to look at the withered, sticklike thing in her hand a little closer. “What is this thing?” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of stinky.” She heard Eve snort from behind her. “What?” she said, turning to her sister. “What’s so funny?”
“Here, I’ll take that,” Luke said, plucking it from her hand. He drew his arm back and hurled the thing way off into the field. Samson spun and charged after it, a gray blur in motion. “It’s a . . . uh . . . beef chew.”
“Come on, Luke,” Eve said. “Tell her the truth.”
“That is the truth,” Luke said, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s a beef ch—”
“It’s a bull penis,” Eve said, her voice dropping to a lower register as if she were the font of all knowledge.
“What?” Maggie said, looking from Eve to Luke and back to Eve again. “Eww,” she said, wiping her hand on her jeans.
“You”—Eve came around Maggie and poked a finger into Luke’s chest—“threw an old, dried-up bull penis on our doorstep as a way to get to see Maggie. Great romantic opening move, dude.”
“A dried-up bull penis?” Maggie said, torn between the urge to remove Eve’s finger from Luke’s chest and to race to the sink and scrub her hand.
Since she didn’t actually have a claim on Luke’s chest, Maggie walked over to the kitchen sink and washed up.
“Yup,” she heard Luke say. “You caught me out.”
She didn’t turn her head, but she could see the two of them out of the corner of her eye. Eve
stepped back into the kitchen and sat down at the table, then started shuffling through their papers.
Luke leaned his rangy body up against the doorjamb. “I had a craving for Becca’s,” he said. “Was wondering if you guys would like to come along.”
“What’s Becca’s?” Maggie asked, turning to face him.
He had that little half smile on his face and was looking right at her. “The best Italian gelato ever. We can drop the dog off and head on over.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. “I’d like that.”
“The best decision you ever made,” Luke said. “She makes it locally, using top-quality ingredients, and small batches mean it’s always fresh. No preservatives.”
Maggie smiled. “You sound like an advertisement.”
“I suppose I do,” he said with a laugh.
It was the first time she had seen him with a no-holds-barred smile, all the shadows in his eyes momentarily vanquished. The effect was breathtaking—and it made something lurch almost painfully in the region of her heart.
“Guys,” Eve said, “would you mind terribly if I don’t come?”
“Of course not, but, Eve, we can keep working if you like,” Maggie said. “I don’t need ice cream. I just thought—”
“No. You two go, eat, have fun,” Eve said. “And don’t worry about hurrying back. I started a painting that’s calling to me. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to dive back in.”
“Okay, then,” Maggie said, giving her sister a quick hug. “You’re the best,” she whispered in her sister’s ear, and then a bit louder, “See you later.”
Twenty-six
“I WANTED TO thank you,” Maggie said, shifting to face him on his truck’s worn leather seat. “For Sunday, for our talk on the beach. It really helped.”
“Any progress on your decision?” Luke asked, acting casual, as if he hadn’t spent the last forty-eight hours on tenterhooks, wondering what she was going to decide. He swung his truck onto the main road.
