She slid into sandals and walked down the stairs. A cool breeze ruffled the leaves above her and raised gooseflesh on her arms. When she reached Renny’s kitchen door, she knocked.
“Sabrina, good heavens, what are you doing up?” Renny’s gray hair protruded in all directions, an indication the woman had been using her scalp massager again. “It stimulates the creative neurons,” Renny had told her when Sabrina caught her at the computer, rubbing her head with the thing. It looked like a silver squid had latched on and wasn’t letting loose.
“I couldn’t go to sleep, and it’s all your fault.” Sabrina held up the manuscript.
Renny opened the door wider, letting Sabrina pass. “You liked it?”
“I couldn’t put it down. Honestly, I started reading it today and couldn’t go to bed until I finished. The writing is crisp, the characters are compelling, and the plot was woven together so tightly . . . Renny, if this one doesn’t sell, those publishers are just incompetent. Your agent will be so pleased.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m so relieved you liked it. The plot you helped me with is fresh and unique, I know that.” A light behind Renny’s eyes dimmed. “But the writing—it’s not as good as I wanted it to be.”
Sometimes Sabrina wanted to shake her. “The writing is superb.”
Renny sank into an oak chair and stared through the window into the dark night. She didn’t believe Sabrina. Anyone could see that. She wore her black and gray Hawaiian shirt, a sure sign her mood was down.
Renny twisted her diamond-studded wedding set around her wrinkled finger.
“You said that about the last one too.”
“Because it’s true.”
Renny picked up the scalp massager and tapped its legs on the table. “I think the characters need more fleshing out. Especially Drew. That male point of view gets me every time.”
“Every character was beautifully drawn.”
“I don’t know. It lacks . . . chai!”
“Chai? Like the tea?”
“Life! It lacks life.”
Renny’s late husband had done a job on her confidence. He’d been gone for three years, long before Sabrina had arrived, but she didn’t have to know the man to see the effects he’d had on Renny.
“It lacks nothing. I have a good feeling about this one,” Sabrina said.
“Well.” Renny’s gaze flickered to the hutch along the wall, then out the window. “Well, it’s all in God’s hands anyway, right?”
Sabrina needed to turn in if she was going to be lucid for work in the morning. Yet one look at Renny’s drawn cheeks and ruffled hair and she sank into the heavy chair opposite the woman.
“How’s your next story coming?”
She let out a Darth Vader sigh. “It’s not. I have nothing at all, and I’ve been praying about it all week.”
“Maybe we can brainstorm tomorrow.”
“You’re working for the McCabe boy after the café. Honey, you don’t have time for that.”
“I’ll make time, Renny. Besides, it’s fun.”
“Well, you’re a genius at it, there’s no doubt. Maybe I should just sign your name to these stories and be done with it.” She gave a weak laugh.
“I couldn’t write my way out of a paper bag. Has your agent heard from any publishers on Danger in the Night?” The quality of Renny’s writing had taken a huge leap in her last story about a Nantucket family’s murder.
Renny set down the massager and yawned. “No, no word. Heavens, I don’t think the ideas are going to flow tonight. Tell me how things are going for you. Work? Have you heard from your family?”
“Work’s fine.” She thought of the wedding invitation, a part of her shriveling at the thought.
“And your family?”
“I got a wedding invitation in the mail. Jared and Jaylee’s.”
Renny sucked in a breath. “No!” Her brows creased into a V between her shiny eyes. Righteous indignation.
“Afraid so.”
She laid her hand over Sabrina’s. “Oh, amita, I’m so sorry. God will give you peace on this. I know it.”
Sometimes Renny’s faith felt like enough for both of them. This was not one of those times. Still, it did comfort her when Renny called her “friend” that way. “Thanks, Renny.”
“Will you go? I could go with you.”
“No, I—I’m not going. But thanks for the offer.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you have only to let me know and I’ll be packing my suitcase.”
After Sabrina left, her thoughts went back to Renny’s manuscript. She wondered if it would take a sale for Renny to believe in her work. If so, there was no need to worry, because Sabrina knew great writing, and Renny’s recent stories were nothing short of that.
Tucker sipped the coffee Sabrina had poured, then spread out The Inquirer and Mirror and pretended to read. She was posting an order for two men in suits and neckties. They chatted quietly over a thin stack of papers, sipping their coffee between notations. It seemed a little early for business, but hey, better them than him. He relished the idea of a day spent on the open sea instead of chained to some desk.
Glancing around the café, he caught two high school boys ogling Sabrina all the way to the kitchen. One of them met his eyes, and Tucker stared until the kid looked away. Aren’t you a little young for her, pal? They couldn’t be more than eighteen and Sabrina was twenty-four. No, he reminded himself, she was twenty-five today. He’d thought she’d request the night off, but she hadn’t.
He remembered his own twenty-fifth birthday. He’d gone home to New York for Thanksgiving break, and his family had thrown a surprise dinner party for him and his twin sister at Le Bernardin, complete with friends from high school and college.
He wanted to do something special for Sabrina, but an email greeting would have to suffice. Maybe he could make tonight special.
If only she would open up to him, even as a friend. She was so guarded. When she’d first come to the island, he’d tried for months to get to know her.
He’d begun to wonder if Oliver’s sole reason for coming to the café wasn’t to watch the show.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than eavesdrop on my conversations?” he’d asked more than once.
“Last I checked, it took two to have a conversation.”
Being publicly rejected on a regular basis wasn’t much fun. Still, there was something about Sabrina. He sensed a vulnerability in her that drew him. Watching her reminded him of a quote he’d once heard: “The people with the highest walls have the softest hearts.” Watching Sabrina, he suspected it was true. He wanted to know for sure. He wanted to know her, if only she’d let him in.
He’d never been so interested in someone who, apparently, didn’t return the favor. Was it her thinly disguised vulnerability that drew him, or something else? He reflected on that often and came to the conclusion that it was those unguarded moments that captured him. She presented a disinterested front, but there were moments when she didn’t think anyone was looking that he caught an unvarnished glimpse of the real Sabrina.
One evening after she’d first started working at the café, he’d seen her resting on a bench at Jetties Beach. The sun was low in the sky, and the beach crowd was gone for the day. It was just Sabrina, watching the sunset. She had a little smile on her face and was so caught up in the view she didn’t notice him, only twenty feet away. He wanted to stroll over and say hi. But she looked so peaceful, and though he hadn’t known her long, he knew the instant she saw him, her guard would go up. He didn’t want to spoil her relaxing evening.
So he continued to try and spark conversations at the café. Just when he was about to give up, he’d catch a glimpse of her chatting with Char or coming off break and see her unmasked. He was determined to find out who she really was, why she kept such a distance between herself and others.
The first time he’d asked her out, he’d been more nervous than ever before. Of course, he didn’t normally a
sk out a woman who’d given him no encouragement. He dismissed his failed attempts at conversation. She was busy during breakfast, and he got to thinking that if he came at a slower time, she might be more receptive.
So on a chilly fall day during slow season, he showed up after the lunch hour and took a seat at his regular table. He saw the surprise on Sabrina’s face before she could mask it.
He opened the menu and surveyed the lunch selection. The thought of food made his stomach turn.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He flipped his mug over and gave her what he hoped was a charming smile. “Sure.” He thought she might comment about his unscheduled appearance, but she didn’t.
Instead she pulled out her order pad and poised a pen over it. “What can I get you?”
Now, there was a loaded question. He considered whether to order or just say what he’d come for. His heart drummed wildly in the pause.
Her brows lifted ever so slightly.
He closed his menu. “Actually, to be honest, I didn’t come here to eat.”
She hardly missed a beat. “Just coffee then?”
“No,” he said quickly before she could skedaddle away. “No, I—” He sat up straight in his chair as if the boost would raise his confidence.“I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out for coffee sometime. Or dinner. My friend works at DeMarco and could probably even get us in—”
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She scooted off toward the coffee station while he gathered what was left of his pride. Not even a reason, just “I’m sorry.” Was she dating someone? Wouldn’t she have said so if she were? He never saw her with anyone else, and neither had anyone else, because he’d asked around. No, he didn’t think she was taken. And that only made the rejection worse.
But he’d survived it and had even gotten up the courage to ask again. With the same results.
It was only when he’d overheard a conversation between Sabrina and Char that the idea had formed. It was a slow, rainy morning, and they were rolling silverware in napkins at a table behind him, close enough for eavesdropping. Char was telling Sabrina about Nantucket Chat, a place where people from all over the country posted messages on a variety of topics. Some posters were residents, others just people who’d visited and fallen in love with Nantucket’s charms. Tucker had logged on a few times to see what people were saying about local politics or preservation of the island’s ecology.
“That’s a good idea,” Char was saying. “You should write that on Nantucket Chat. I think a lot of people would be interested. It’s free to join. Just log in and post it in the Nantucket Ecology discussion forum.”
“I might do that,” Sabrina said.
Tucker watched the forum for two days, waiting for a new name to appear. When it did, it was SweetpeaKS, and he recognized Sabrina’s idea. He’d posted a couple comments himself, then emailed her privately to discuss her idea. The rest had been history.
A kid two tables over let out a piercing cry, drawing his attention from the past. The baby pounded his fists on the table, demanding more Cheerios from his mom, who was busy with two other kids. Several feet away, Char stopped Sabrina, two coffeepots grasped in her bony hands. “Hey, Sabrina, I had this family thing come up last minute and need to leave early. You think you could stay over a few hours?”
Sabrina pulled her order pad and pen from her apron pocket. “Sure, no problem.”
She went to take an order from an elderly couple three tables away. Char must not know it was Sabrina’s birthday. In fact, he hadn’t heard anyone mention it. Between her hours at the café and working on his project, she wouldn’t have a spare minute today. Maybe Sabrina needed the money.
He recalled their email conversation the evening before.
It’s almost your day, he’d written.
Got big plans?
Are you kidding? she’d replied.
It’s my twenty-fifth birthday.
Don’t have too much fun without me, birthday girl.
It sounded at the time like she had something fun planned, but now he realized she’d never answered his question. She did that sometimes—changed the subject.
“Warm you up?” Sabrina’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He realized his paper blocked the mug, and moved it. Color bloomed on her cheeks as she realized her words’ double meaning.
His lips twitched with the urge to comment, but he stopped himself. “Thanks.”
Oliver sank into the chair at his usual table. Sabrina turned over his mug and filled it. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Sabrina.” Oliver folded his sausagelike fingers on the table, leaning back. “You know, I’m feeling rather edacious this morning.”
She set down the coffee and poised her pen over her tablet. “Great, then can I get you something more than coffee?”
Oliver pursed his lips, and Tucker smothered a grin as the man reluctantly ordered rye toast. Poor rascal. He tried so hard.
Tucker checked his watch. He had to gas up his boat before they opened. When Sabrina returned with the toast, she set his tab on the table.
He reached for his wallet. “See you tonight around six?”
She nodded once, no eye contact. Tucker watched her gather dishes a few tables away, her motions efficient and fluid.
“No way.” Oliver glanced back and forth between them, gray brows crouching low over his eyes.
Tucker pulled out three bills and set them by the saltshaker.
Oliver lowered his voice. “You did not get a date with the Ice Princess.”
Tucker stood, pocketing his wallet, taking one last peek at Sabrina as she put an order on the wheel.
“Is she going out with you, McCabe?”
Tucker pushed in his chair and adjusted his hat as he walked away.
“McCabe?”
A smile tickled Tucker’s lips as he exited the café.
Harbormaster: My twin sister called tonight. What a mess. Her jerk of a husband cheated on her and now they’re separated. If I see him again, I’m afraid what I might do to him. He deserves it for what he’s putting Tracey through.
Chapter Seven
A large, teal envelope was waiting in Sabrina’s mailbox when she arrived home. She hurriedly tore it open and skipped the card’s flowery greeting. Her aunt had signed for both of them. Love, Uncle Everett and Aunt Bev.
She held the card a moment, then dropped it in the wastebasket and checked her email. Nothing. She reread the email Tucker sent early that morning.
Happy 25th birthday! I hope you have a great day. I’m thinking about you.
After she showered and dressed in modest shorts and a clean blouse, she gathered her hair into a ponytail and headed for Tucker’s.
Her palms sweated against the handlebars, turning sticky. Would she ever relax in Tucker’s presence? Being with him was painful. Bad enough serving him at the café, but there was something intimate about being in his home. And the man would not leave her alone. If he didn’t stay in the office, he peeked in every few minutes. She was constantly tense, waiting for him to materialize.
She wiped one damp palm at a time on her beige shorts. You have got to relax. As far as he’s concerned, he’s only your employer. Do your job and forget about the relationship.
It was the relationship that prevented her from relaxing. It’s not a relationship. It’s just a—a correspondence.
A daily, intimate correspondence.
He doesn’t even know my name.
He knows who you are deep inside.
Sabrina’s stomach tightened as she clutched the handlebars. It was true. Tucker did know her, better than anyone ever had.
Except Jared.
A pool of panic welled up in her. Had she made a terrible mistake in corresponding with Tucker? She’d thought the anonymity provided safety, but then, she’d thought Jared was safe, and she’d been wrong about that. How was she to know he’d hurt her when she’d met him under such noble circumstances?
; It had been the second semester of her sophomore year at college when she met Jared. After high school she left Macon to study literature at Miami University in the quaint town of Oxford, Ohio. Putting distance between herself and her family had been both frightening and liberating. Without her beautiful and charming Southern cousins at her side, a seedling of confidence began to sprout.
One night she walked from her last class to her car, unlocked it, and slid inside, closing the door against the bitter-cold wind. She had twenty-three minutes to be at Bruno’s, where she would serve pizza to a rowdy weekend college crowd until closing.
Vapor plumed in front of her face as she slid the key into the ignition, and she turned it, eager to get some heat going.
But nothing happened at the motion. Nothing except a clicking sound. No, no, no. She turned the key again, and the same noise greeted her. A dead battery, she was sure, but she had no cables. She glanced around the darkened parking lot through windows that had begun to fog with her breath. There was no one in sight. Besides, she wondered how many college students carried battery cables in their cars.
She could call her roommate, but by the time Zoe arrived, Sabrina would be late. She’d have to walk to Bruno’s and worry about her car later. She grabbed her backpack and exited the car, locking it and hoping it wouldn’t be towed in the dead of night.
The hum of an approaching engine startled her. It was a dark pickup truck, and the man behind the wheel was a stranger. But that wasn’t unusual, given the size of the campus.
“Need help?” He’d rolled down his window and leaned out, the corner of his elbow poking from the vehicle. He had short, dark hair, but shadows masked his facial features.
Sabrina was suddenly aware of how alone she was in the massive parking lot. She clutched the keys in her palm, searching for her car key in case she needed to unlock the vehicle quickly. Just last month she’d overheard students discussing the latest sexual assault that had occurred at the victim’s off-campus home.
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