Shore Lights

by Barbara Bretton

  “Whoa,” he broke in with a laugh. “Isn’t that one of those little—”

  “Not little,” Gina said. “Teeny. We’re talking micro-canine. The kind of dog you name Fluffy and nobody asks you why.”

  “You’re a cruel woman, Gina. What about the time I sent you home from O’Malley’s with an extra pair of—”

  “I take it back!” Gina waved her hands in the air. “Say no more! I take it all back!”

  “An extra pair of what?” Joann demanded. “I was there that night and I didn’t see any—”

  Pat leaned over and whispered something in Joann’s ear. Joann hooted, then turned bright red as the words sank in. “Gina! You didn’t!”

  “She did,” said Aidan O’Malley. “Tommy said it took five years off his life.”

  “And six off mine.” Gina looked up at Aidan, and Maddy swore her cousin batted her lashes at him. Was it possible Gina was in the market for a new Mr. Maybe? “You’re a Great Dane kind of guy, O’Malley. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “All wrong,” said Denise. “I’d say he’s more Irish wolfhound.”

  “No, no! I’ve got it!” cried Pat. “With those shoulders he’s gotta be a cross between wolfhound and mastiff.”

  The fifteen years Maddy had spent away from Paradise Point suddenly felt like fifty. You had to earn the right to tease somebody that way, and the only way you could do it was by sticking around through the highs and lows and everyday sameness of life in a small town. Cousins, of course, didn’t count. Cousins were family and you already knew all of their secrets, same as they thought they knew all of yours.

  Which opened up a whole new area of possibilities Maddy hadn’t even thought about until now.

  Much easier to rescue her daughter from the tangled leash than to ponder her family’s tangled lives. To her surprise, O’Malley separated himself from the pack and moved closer. She liked the easy way he held Priscilla, and judging by the blissful expression on the puppy’s face, Priscilla liked it, too. If he was the slightest bit embarrassed to be seen cuddling a girlie poodle puppy against his battered leather jacket, it didn’t show, and Maddy experienced another jolt of awareness in the pit of her stomach. He was comfortable in his own skin. She hadn’t been comfortable in her own skin since her eighth birthday. He didn’t need to prove his maleness by pretending to be too macho to show tenderness toward a small animal.

  Which was, of course, reading way too much into nothing at all.

  She wondered again if there was something going on between him and Gina, then, for the second time, pushed the thought from her mind. Secrets didn’t stay secret very long in the DiFalco family. Not hers or anybody else’s. Sooner or later everybody found out everything there was to know.

  Something to keep in mind if she was ever crazy enough to consider dating anyone from the tristate area.

  Hannah’s lower lip was quivering and it was clear her little girl was a half-step away from a major meltdown. “Look what that crazy dog did,” Maddy said as she began to unwind the leash from her daughter’s ankles. “I think that animal has a very silly sense of humor, don’t you?”

  Hannah sniffled. Her chin trembled. Another ten seconds and she’d be sobbing and Maddy wouldn’t be able to convince her to go back to school until puberty.

  O’Malley hunkered down next to Hannah and looked at her with a very serious expression. “When I was your age, my cat locked me in the closet.”

  Hannah’s blue eyes widened, but her chin continued to tremble.

  “I’ll bet you don’t believe me,” he said, supporting Priscilla’s back legs with the palm of his left hand, “but it really happened.”

  Hannah popped her thumb into her mouth and shook her head.

  “I’ll bet that was some cat,” Maddy said as she unwound the leash from Hannah’s ankles, then her calves, and maneuvered the many turns around her plump knees. “Imagine a cat who could lock a boy in a closet!”

  “She was my brother’s cat,” O’Malley said with great solemnity, “and she hadn’t forgiven me for bringing a dog into the house.” He scratched Priscilla behind her left ear with his right thumb, and the puppy practically swooned. “I was digging around in the closet for my sneakers when BAM!” Hannah jumped at his impression of a door slamming shut. “That cat kicked the door shut and locked me in.”

  Maddy arched a brow in his direction. “The cat knew how to use a key?” she asked, which made Hannah giggle. “Now, I can imagine Miss Priscilla figuring out how to use a key, but a cat—?”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” O’Malley said, lowering his voice so only Maddy and Hannah could hear him, “but I’m pretty sure Spike knew how to drive.”

  Hannah’s chin stopped trembling. Her lower lip no longer quivered. “Cats can’t drive,” she said in a whisper.

  “Did you ever see a cat drive?” he asked.

  Hannah shook her head. “Unh-uh.”

  “Me, neither, but that doesn’t mean they can’t.”

  Hannah’s soft blond brows knotted as she cast an odd look in Priscilla’s direction, as if contemplating the relative merits of dogs versus cats. Maddy unwound the rest of the leash, and Hannah ducked behind her mother the second she was freed, casting curious glances O’Malley’s way.

  “You’re a miracle worker,” Maddy said as she clipped the leash to Priscilla’s collar. “We were close to total meltdown there.”

  “I know the signs.”

  They watched Hannah as she darted back to her aunt Denise, who was in charge of guarding the backpacks and lunch boxes.

  “Notice that I’m not asking you about the cat and the closet door.”

  “Thanks,” he said, maintaining the properly solemn note of gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

  “Although I have to admit a certain skepticism when it comes to cats and cars.”

  “Understandable,” he said, “but it depends on the cat.”

  “And the car,” Maddy said, getting caught up in the game.

  “Goes without saying.”

  The rumble of the approaching school bus drowned out the chatter of the cousins and near-cousins and their kids.

  Maddy grinned at O’Malley. “You can put the dog down now.”

  His face was transformed when he smiled. The weariness vanished and even the ugly scar that bisected his right cheek faded into insignificance. “Good idea,” he said and placed Priscilla at Maddy’s feet.

  Priscilla evaluated the situation and found it sorely lacking. She bounced back to O’Malley and climbed onto his boots, her front paws digging at his pants leg in a blatant attempt to force him to pick her up again.

  Some females had absolutely no shame.

  They locked eyes, Maddy and O’Malley, and for an instant—no more than that, but entire lives were changed every day in less time—the school bus and the kids and the poodle and the cousins and the entire state of New Jersey vanished, and they saw a glimpse of how it could be if they dropped their guard, if they had the guts, if they’d met ten years earlier or five years later . . . if Priscilla hadn’t picked that exact moment to pee on his foot.

  “Oh, God! Oh, no!” Maddy stared in disbelief as a small puddle formed beneath Priscilla’s furry bottom. “I don’t believe this!”

  The poor little dog cowered, and Maddy felt instantly guilty, which rendered her instantly useless. How on earth could something so tiny contain so much fluid? It boggled the mind. She just stood there and watched as the puddle spread wider, then finally achieved maximum dimensions. Priscilla wagged her tail as if to congratulate herself on a job well done while Maddy remained frozen in a combination of humiliation and disbelief. Fortunately Aidan O’Malley was made of better stuff. He calmly bent down and swooped the puppy up into his arms. He was so damn cool and unruffled that you would think poodles peed on him every day of the week.

  “I am so sorry,” Maddy said again as the school bus rolled closer. “I don’t know what’s with her today.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket
and pulled out a thick wad of Kleenex that she carried for Hannah’s many emergencies, then bent down to dab at the appalling mess on his boot.

  “You don’t have to do that.” He took the Kleenex from her, dragged them across the top of his boot, then tossed the tissues into the trash basket next to Denise.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I know.” Again that lopsided, wonderful smile. “I think you said it before. She’s a dog. Dogs pee. End of story.”

  Maddy took Priscilla from him before the poodle had a chance to anoint his leather jacket. “I swear she seems to have sprung a leak this morning.” Shut up, Maddy. Let it rest. You’ve exceeded the pee limit for one conversation. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. First she leaves a small lake on the floor of Hannah’s room and now this.” Good going, Maddy. Why don’t you discuss the bladder problems of the entire DiFalco family while you’re at it? “Why can’t they make training pants for poodles?”

  He looked at her for what seemed like forever, and Maddy heard every stupid comment she had ever made in her entire life in Dolby Stereo inside her head. Then he lost it. His laugh was even better than his smile. All of Maddy’s embarrassment and discomfort was swallowed up inside that laugh, and she started laughing, too, huge ridiculous unself-conscious whoops the likes of which she hadn’t enjoyed since pre-puberty.

  Maybe if they hadn’t been laughing quite so hard and so loudly, they would have noticed that everyone was watching them, everyone including Hannah and Billy Jr., Denise and Gina, Pat and Connie, Joann and their kids and friends of their kids and Sarah the school-bus driver, who had been Maddy’s nemesis in Girl Scouts.

  “So don’t keep us in suspense,” Denise said with maybe just the tiniest bit of an edge to her voice. “Who needs training pants?”

  It was a perfectly reasonable question, but both Aidan and Maddy were far beyond reason and couldn’t have answered if their lives depended on it.

  Hannah seemed quite put out with Maddy. She made a point of kissing Priscilla goodbye but managed only a mumbled “Bye” to her mother. It starts early, Maddy thought as she waved at the bus. Sometimes it seemed that the whole mother-daughter relationship was built on a foundation of smoke and mirrors. One wrong word—or outsized bout of laughter—and it all came tumbling down.

  Billy Jr. was immune to the whole thing. After a puzzled look at his still-laughing uncle, he shouldered his book bag and boarded the bus in an impressively macho display of indifference.

  Mars and Venus.

  No doubt about it.

  “So tell us,” Gina persisted as the bus moved away. “What was all that about training pants?”

  “Training pants?” Maddy looked up at Aidan.

  “Beats me,” he said.

  “Very funny,” Gina said. “So don’t tell us.” She glanced at the bank clock across the street. “Oh, damn! Lois Riordan’s due for a perm and a bikini wax in six minutes and I haven’t opened the shop.” She grabbed her youngest, the stroller, her enormous Coach tote bag, then hurried off down the block toward Upsweep without another word.

  That was the cue for the group to disperse. Goodbye, goodbye. In moments Maddy and Aidan (and Priscilla) were alone.

  “I know Denise,” Maddy said, shaking her head. “She won’t give up until she finds out what we were laughing about.”

  He started to say something, stopped, then started again. “Coffee at Julie’s? I think they serve poodles there.”

  “I’d love to. Just let me—”

  “Great. We can—damn!” He looked genuinely upset. (Or was he having second thoughts?) She wasn’t clairvoyant, but she was a DiFalco girl and DiFalco girls knew when a man was about to change his mind. “I hate to do this, but how about a rain check? I’ve got six minutes to make my PT appointment.”

  Maddy said all the right things. Of course he could have a rain check. No, please don’t apologize. These things happen. Besides, she really should be getting home herself. She had doorknobs to polish and bathrooms to clean.

  “My car’s around the corner,” he said. “I could—”

  “No,” she said. “No, thanks. I don’t want to think about what Priscilla could do to your upholstery.”

  He hesitated.

  She delayed.

  Neither one knew how to make the first move so, as luck would have it, neither one made a move at all except to say goodbye.

  “Your appointment,” Maddy said. “You’d better—”

  “You’re right. I’d better get moving.” It was so clear he wanted to say more, but something—reason? caution? her hair?—pulled him back from the brink. “It was good to see you again, Maddy.”

  “Me, too.” She shook her head and laughed softly. “I mean, same here. Take care, Aidan.”

  Her mother and aunts and cousins would be happy to learn that Maddy hadn’t let down their side. The DiFalco women’s legendary bad luck with men was still going strong.

  Chapter Nine

  ROSE LOVED THE Candlelight Inn. She loved caring for it, living in it, cleaning it, repairing it, sharing it with an endless stream of guests. She even enjoyed preparing picnic baskets at seven in the morning for geriatric lovebirds in search of romance by the shore.

  “I put a map in the basket next to the cranberry-pecan muffins,” she told the Armaghs as she carried their provisions out to their car. The Loewensteins had set out a half hour earlier. “There’s a thermos of decaf; a small thermos of cream; sugar; a selection of tea sandwiches; some wonderful pears; baked brie; and a few little surprises.”

  The Armaghs, bless their hearts, beamed with delight.

  “You are the sweetest thing,” Mrs. Armagh said, “doing all of this for us and you don’t even charge extra.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Rose said and she meant it. She was never happier than when she was fussing over her guests, making sure they had their maps and their picnic baskets and the chance to make a few memories. There were even times when she forgot all about the outrageous profit she made from every guest who passed through her doors.

  She stowed the picnic basket in the backseat of their Chrysler, then waited while they buckled their seat belts.

  “You drive carefully,” she ordered them with a friendly smile. “We’re having a beautiful Trout Amandine tonight that I know you’ll love.”

  “We’ll be there,” Mr. Armagh said then.

  She waved goodbye, then went back inside where she finished putting the kitchen to rights, checked the pantry against her dinner recipes, and called Lucy to tell her to stop at Shop Rite for cardamom on the way over. That took all of ten minutes. The house was as close to perfect as it was likely to get. There wasn’t a mantel, side table, or doorway that had been neglected. Boughs of shiny holly were everywhere, laced with fairy lights and festive red velvet bows.

  It occurred to Rose that there was still a half-carton of holly stowed in the mudroom, and a huge copper planter almost begging for a little Christmas cheer. Who was she to deny their mutual destiny?

  Martha Stewart, eat your heart out.

  Paradise Point High School

  Seth was waiting for her in the parking lot behind the track. Kelly pulled into the last empty spot, and by the time she gathered up her books and papers, he was opening her door for her.

  “Eleven hours, forty-six minutes,” he said.

  “Forty-seven,” she corrected.

  The hours and minutes since they had been together.

  “You look tired.”

  She brushed the hair from her eyes. “I’m okay.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, obviously searching for the right words. “Just a feeling.”

  She leaned closer, breathing in the familiar smell of his skin.

  “You’re not sorry, are you, Kel?”

  She could tell him why she was worried. He would understand. Seth wasn’t the kind of guy who would run from trouble. He loved her.
He would be there with her. Hadn’t they spent ages talking about what they would do if the worst happened and she found herself pregnant? They didn’t keep secrets from each other. That wasn’t their way.

  “I love you,” she said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Some day,” he said, draping an arm across her shoulders. “Next year we’ll be in college and things’ll be different.”

  The thought both thrilled and terrified Kelly. Spreading her wings meant leaving the nest behind, leaving her father alone.

  “He’ll be fine,” Seth said, reading her mind. “This is what he wants for you, Kel. You know he’s proud of that scholarship you won.”

  “I know, I know. If it wasn’t for the accident, I wouldn’t feel so bad. He’s so alone, Seth—” Her voice cracked and she paused a second, then spoke again. “I wish he had someone. I wish he wasn’t so alone.”

  She turned and buried her face against the side of Seth’s neck and cried. Lately she had been spilling over with emotion. A beautiful sunrise would start her crying. A cross look. A snippet of poetry. The thought of Grandma Irene, so old and alone. The fact that no matter what she did or said she could never make it turn out all right for her family.

  “I wish we were already old,” she said. “I wish I could see ahead into the future and know how everything was going to turn out.”

  “I know how it’s going to turn out,” he said, stroking her hair.

  She pulled away slightly from his embrace and met his eyes. “Tell me.”

  “We’re going to live happily ever after.”

  Sooner or later, somebody had to.

  ROSE WAS ON the front porch putting the finishing touches on the planter when Maddy raced up the walk with that little dog of hers cradled against her chest. Rose’s breath caught for an instant as a wave of love for her only child almost brought her to her knees. She looked so beautiful with her cheeks red with cold and her soft golden brown curls wreathing her face, so much like the old Maddy that Rose’s eyes filled with unexpected tears.

  Rose addressed her full attention to the holly as her daughter approached.