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by Tess Thompson

  Maggie’s vision blurred with tears. “I missed you too.”

  “Perhaps this summoning from your father was a sign to come home.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m retiring,” Miss Rita said. “At the end of the year. It’s either sell the studio or shut it down.”

  “Retire?” Maggie couldn’t imagine town without Miss Rita’s studio. “What would you do?”

  “Spend more time in my garden. Worry less about the annual recital. It’s become rather tiresome over the years. I’m worn out. There’s a young woman who works for me, Christina, who’s interested in buying the studio from me. But she’s not sure she can handle it alone, both the financial burden of the loan and running it. She has small children and a husband who travels.”

  “Does she have the money?” Maggie asked.

  “She has enough for a down payment and I imagine she could get approval for a small business loan. The business is lucrative. All little girls want to take ballet. Plus, we have adult classes now. Zumba, for one. And Violet teaches yoga. There’s potential for more, with the right vision. I’m old and set in my ways. Christina had to fight me tooth and nail to get Zumba in there. She has a good sense of what people like, especially adults.”

  “That’s great. What’s the problem then?”

  “Like I said, Christina’s not sure she could handle running it on her own. Although, perhaps she could partner with someone. Like you, for example.” Miss Rita’s sly glance and smile made Maggie laugh again.

  “I know nothing about running a business.”

  “You know how to dance. You were always so good with the little ones when you were in high school. You could teach a musical theatre course for the older kids. They want one, but Christina doesn’t have the background for it.”

  “All my savings went to this.” Maggie pointed to her knee. “There’s no way I could get the money together.”

  “Well, think about it, won’t you?”

  “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

  This was a lie. Maggie didn’t want to run a dance studio if she couldn’t dance. It would be salt in her wounded knee every single day. No, the studio wasn’t it. The problem was—what was it? And where was it?

  And would Jackson be there?

  By the time Maggie left Miss Rita back at the studio, it was a little after five, so she headed into the bar to see Zane. Jackson had texted that he would meet her there after work. He wanted her to meet some more of his friends. Like a silly schoolgirl, she shivered with pleasure at the thought of meeting the people who had been such a huge part of Jackson’s life. Could she be part of all this? Did she want to?

  The Oar was quiet, occupied with only a few scattered tables. People were still at the beach, but she suspected it would fill later with hungry and thirsty patrons. Zane had the windows open and the outside tables and umbrellas set up for the evening. A soft breeze and ceiling fans provided cool air as she walked through the bar area to the counter.

  Zane looked up as she slid onto a stool. “Hey. Nice hat,” he said.

  She pulled it from her head and set it on the counter. “Thanks. I bought it at Violet’s little shop that used to be the liquor store.” She ran her fingers through her hair, then twisted the entire mass into a bun and fixed it with a pin from her bag. “Speaking of which, where does everyone buy booze now?”

  “The market. Or here. Preferably here.”

  “Does Old Man Cooper really use one of those metal detectors on the beach?”

  Zane chuckled as he wiped under the beer spout. “Not every day, but frequently.”

  “Violet seems nice,” Maggie said. “It took me a moment to remember her. Then, we had a somewhat awkward exchange.”

  “Yeah?” Zane asked. “Not surprising.”

  “She told me how unhappy Jackson’s been and that Sharon was no me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zane said. “She’s not shy with her opinions.”

  “I was stopped like five times. Pretty much everyone finds a way to ask if I’ve seen Jackson yet, which I find excruciating.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she said.

  “Because it makes you look like the bad guy and you hate that?”

  “Yes. Exactly,” Maggie said, laughing.

  “I’ll tell you what Brody told Jackson. Sometimes it can be about what you want and not about everyone else. Plus, who cares what other people think?”

  “Me?’

  “Listen, Mags, life sucks pretty much all of the time. If you have a chance at love, you better grab it up. Your responsibility is to yourself, not bitchy Sharon.”

  “Zane! That’s unkind.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “If the lectures over, can I have wine, please?” She smiled to soften her words, but she needn’t have bothered. Zane was clearly not troubled by her scolding if his grin was any indication. How could it seem as if no time had passed? Was this the test of true friendship? Years could batter hearts and bodies, but not our intimate connections with others. She had a sudden image of the three of them in their golden years, white-haired and shrunken, but still making one another laugh.

  Zane poured a glass of chardonnay for her and then hustled around the bar, setting up for the evening.

  “Is Violet married? I didn’t think to ask,” Maggie said.

  “No, but she has a little boy,” Zane said. “Dakota. He’s a cute little bugger. Poor kid broke his arm the other day and Jackson had to put a cast on it.”

  “Where’s his father?”

  “No one knows,” Zane said. “Violet’s super close with Honor. The rest of us don’t know her that well.”

  “Honor is Brody’s assistant, right?”

  “Yes.” Zane seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

  “What’s Honor like?” Maggie asked. “Is she sweet like Kara?”

  “She’s okay.” He hesitated before continuing. “Violet and Kyle hate each other. I mean, hate.”

  “Wait, is she the one who pickets in front of his resort?” Maggie asked, just putting two and two together.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You guys are like Melrose Place around here.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Why don’t you like Honor?” she asked.

  “I like her fine. What gives you that impression?”

  “I’ve known you a long time,” Maggie said.

  “How was your walk with Miss Rita?”

  “Changing the subject for the second time in thirty seconds. Duly noted.”

  “I forgot what a pain you can be,” Zane said.

  “Fine. You don’t want to talk about Honor.” She rubbed her hands together in a mock gesture of evil. “I’ll get it out of you later.”

  Zane held a glass up to the light, obviously ignoring her.

  “Miss Rita’s as feisty as ever,” she said.

  “Yep. When I went to her house to tell her about you, she gave me the full stink eye. She’s never forgiven me for teaching you how to surf.”

  “She admitted as much today,” Maggie said.

  Zane’s gaze moved from her to the door. Or, rather, to the blond bombshell that just walked through the door.

  “Who’s that?” Maggie asked.

  “That’s Honor Sullivan,” Zane said.

  The infamous Honor Sullivan. Cue the dramatic background music.

  Honor waved as she glided across the floor. Her voluminous shiny blond hair bounced around her shoulders like she was filming a television commercial for hair products. She wore shorts that barely covered her rear, a tight tank top and high sandals, leaving little of her hourglass figure to the imagination.

  Maggie glanced at Zane. His face had gone from relaxed to tense.

  “Hey, Zane.” Honor Sullivan had a surprisingly sweet, high-pitched voice, almost like a child’s.

  “Maggie Keene, meet Honor Sullivan,” Zane said. No wonder Zane had a thing for her. She was a beauty with a heart shaped face and butterscotch sk
in. Her big brown eyes exuded intelligence. The rest of her exuded sensuality.

  For the first time since she entered the bar, Honor took her eyes from Zane and looked over at Maggie. “Oh my God, you’re Maggie. The dead girl that isn’t dead.”

  Maggie smiled and held out her hand. “That’s me. Still not dead.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Honor ignored Maggie’s hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. Spicy perfume wafted from Honor’s golden, freckle-free skin. Lucky girl. She didn’t have to wear a sunhat and long sleeves.

  For a woman no taller than most middle school boys, Honor’s grip was strong. A force. Like a tornado.

  “It’s so awesome to meet you. Jackson’s the nicest guy in the whole world and he’s talked about you so much over the years that I feel like I know you.” Honor fluttered her petite hands. Perfectly pink manicured nails shone under the light. “You’re the prettiest. Your hair and eyes. What’s going on with your mouth? It reminds me of a flower. Wow. Jackson told me you were beautiful, and he did not lie. No wonder you’re an actress.”

  A hugger who loves superlatives. Maggie couldn’t help but like her immediately. Honor reminded her a little of Pepper. She almost laughed thinking about Honor and Pepper in the same room. Now that would be a recipe for trouble. The best kind.

  Maggie stole a quick glance at Zane. A muscle in his cheek flexed. Was he gritting his teeth?

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Zane said. “Where you been?”

  “I’ve been out of town for work,” Honor said.

  “I saw your car drive through town this morning. You just get back?” What should have sounded like a friendly question, didn’t. In fact, it sounded downright accusatory.

  Honor flashed Zane a saucy smile. “Are you stalking me?”

  He shrugged and picked up a towel. “Hardly. Just figured you were pulling one of your disappearance acts from some guy’s house.”

  Maggie could feel the heat rising from Honor’s body. “Not cool, dude.”

  “Just calling it as I see it,” Zane said.

  Why was he acting like such a horse’s rear? Maggie wanted to reprimand him and send him to bed with no supper.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Zane asked.

  “Sure. White wine, please.” Honor’s voice shook slightly.

  Zane had hurt her. Maybe Honor wasn’t as tough as she looked.

  “Mind if I join you, Maggie?” Honor asked.

  You better believe it. I need to get to the bottom of this. “Please. I’d love it.”

  As Zane poured Honor a glass of wine, one of his bartenders arrived, providing a convenient exit.

  “I’ve got work to do in the office,” Zane said. “Enjoy your drinks, ladies.”

  “We will. Now that you’re gone,” Honor said under her breath.

  “I heard that,” Zane said as he disappeared around the door.

  “Awkward,” Honor said. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

  Honor let out a long sigh. “We have a difficult relationship.”

  Maggie wanted to know every detail, but it wasn’t her place to ask a woman she’d known for five minutes.

  Turns out, she didn’t need to ask questions. Honor was as effusive with her inner thoughts as she was with her hugs. “We slept together a while back and ever since then it’s been weird between us. It might have something to do with the fact that I left him in the middle of the night while he was asleep. It’s kind of my thing.”

  “Thus, the dig.”

  “Yep.”

  “He likes you. A lot. I can tell,” Maggie said. “Even if he’s acting like a jerk. Well, especially if he’s acting like a jerk.”

  Honor waved her hand, like she was shooing away a fly. “Never mind all that. It’s deadly dull. We’re idiots who’ll never get our act together to admit we like each other. It’s ridiculous. We’re both children, which is only part of the issue. But anyway, I want to talk about you. So, this whole thing’s beyond weird, right? I mean, you’re dead, but not. Brody told me Zane found you at your own tombstone. What the hell? That is messed up.”

  “Yeah. Not something one expects when coming back to town to see your dying father.” Maggie played with her napkin, embarrassed. How could she live here? She would forever be known as the dead girl who wasn’t dead.

  Honor continued to peer at her. “The famous Maggie. Such a total trip. Hugh, Zane’s dad, used to talk about you sometimes. I worked for him while I put myself through college. On slow nights, he told me funny stories about when you and Zane were kids. He was the greatest. Is the greatest, I mean.”

  “Hugh? I agree. I’m sorry he’s not well.” If only he were, she could ask him questions about her mother.

  “Zane told me all about how you and Jackson were so in love and that he wanted a love like that for himself. He didn’t think Jackson should propose to Sharon who, by the way, is the worst.”

  “Why don’t you like her?” Sharon. Still a bitter taste in her mouth. This group of friends knew everything about one another. Like her and Lisa and Pepper.

  Honor’s brown eyes seemed to dance with mischief. “I don’t like Sharon because she’s controlling and manipulative. And, I didn’t think she’d ever move here, no matter what she told Jackson. Which, I am right about and have been from the beginning. None of that has anything to do with you.”

  “What do you mean?” Maggie asked.

  “I mean, they were never going to get married unless Jackson agreed to move back to L.A. Which he never would. He’s wanted to take over his dad’s practice forever.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Right. Duh, I know you know that. My point is, if you’re feeling guilty about breaking them up—don’t. You were the catalyst, but it would’ve happened anyway.”

  “That’s what Zane thinks too.”

  “Is your love story as epic as everyone says?”

  “Jackson and me? Epic?”

  “Yeah, epic.”

  “I don’t know what epic means exactly. I loved him with all my heart. But we were young when I left. Things are more complicated now.” Why did she keep using that word? Things weren’t complicated. She loved him just like she always had.

  “Things are complicated only when we make them that way. When we break stuff down to two fundamental questions—all becomes clear. What do you want? What are you prepared to do to get it? If I were a betting girl, which I’m not—money should never be so carelessly treated—I would bet on you two being meant to be. Freaking epic.” She paused only long enough to drink from her glass. “I’m not the most romantic girl in the world, but even I can see that this is a love story for the ages. I mean, seriously, after all these years, the two of you together again. If that’s not meant to be, I don’t know what is.”

  Just then, Kara appeared, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “Hi ladies.” She handed Honor the flowers and kissed her on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”

  Maggie might need to reconsider friendship with these two. They were both way too pretty to hang around with, just like Pepper and Lisa. Kara’s long brown hair was fixed in waves today. She wore a sleeveless cotton sundress that showed off her muscular arms.

  “It’s your birthday?” Maggie asked. How come Zane hadn’t said anything? Did he not know or was he just being rude to Honor?

  “Guilty,” Honor said. “Zane obviously didn’t remember.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know,” Kara said. “You could tell him.”

  Honor rolled her eyes. “Kara’s a fan of sharing your ‘feelings’ with the other person.” She made quote signs in the air.

  “If you’d done that already, Zane would know you’re crazy about him, and perhaps things would be a little further along,” Kara said, as she sat on the stool next to Honor. “Just an idea.”

  Honor smiled as she turned to Maggie. “It might just be that he drives me crazy but that I’m not crazy about him.”


  Kara pretended to bang her forehead against the counter. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Maggie, you’ve known him forever,” Honor said. “What’s the secret to Zane’s heart?”

  Maggie thought for a moment. Could she answer with assurance? The Zane she remembered from their youth was sweet and thoughtful, although not one to share his innermost feelings unless pressed. Pushed, more like it. He was quick to anger, too. A temper. A bad temper. She’d leave that part out. “He’s not completely forthcoming about his feelings.”

  “Most men aren’t,” Kara said.

  “Jackson is,” Honor said.

  “He is.” Maggie laughed. “Zane used to say he was like a girl that way, which is rude.”

  “But kind of true,” Honor said.

  “I don’t remember him ever being serious with anyone,” Maggie said. “All the girls had crushes on him in high school. I mean, not surprising. Look at him.”

  “I had the biggest crush on him when I first moved here.” Honor spoke softly with an occasional glance at the door to the kitchen. “The first summer I worked here, Zane came home from college to help his dad out between semesters. He didn’t even know I was alive then. Later, after his wedding was called off, he came home for good and I started crushing on him all over again. He’s so…dreamy. It’s not just that he’s smokin’ hot. I dig his personality. He’s manly combined with that laid-back surfer vibe. Plus, he’s smart. Really smart. And scrappy, like me. I admire the way he runs this business. He’s made it even more awesome than it already was when Hugh ran things.” Honor swirled her wine around the glass and looked mournful for a moment. “But I blew it. He won’t even talk to me, unless it’s to chastise me for something I’ve either done or not done.”

  Zane. Passing up this woman? What was wrong with him? “If you want, I can talk to him. I have ways of getting stuff out of him.”

  “Like what would you say?” Honor asked.

  “What would you want me to say?” Maggie asked.

  “Maybe that I’m not all bad and I wouldn’t mind another chance.”

  “I could do that.” Maggie smiled at the other women. A surge of contentment jolted through her. They could be her friends, like Lisa and Pepper back in New York. The love of her life, friends—so much potential for joy here in this town that was quickly becoming her home again.