She sat back down next to Seth, who took her hand in his. Luke and Hannah were seated on her other side, along with Jenny, Kelsey and Jeff. Jack Ferguson and Lesley Ann were beside Seth. Mary and Kyle Whittier were beside them. It was an impressive show of support that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone on the council, least of all the mayor.
“I’ve had some time to think about Abby’s proposal,” Sandra said to her fellow council members and the audience. “The concerns I had about the changes this would bring to Seaview Key have been resolved, at least in my mind. I see the benefits and those outweigh any disadvantages I perceived. I think this community can handle a development of this limited scope, that it would be a boon to our economy. I’m prepared to vote. Is there a motion for approval?”
“So moved,” one of the original supporters said.
“Second,” another backer added.
Abby held her breath as the vote was taken. Sandra called on her two backers before casting her own vote, then smiled as she added her own “Yea” to make it unanimous in favor of proceeding.
Seth turned to Abby and kissed her soundly. “Congratulations!”
Abby was immediately surrounded by well-wishers.
“Drinks are on me at The Fish Tale,” Jack said. “I’ll see you all there.”
As the crowd filtered out, Abby noticed that there were messages on her cell phone, which she’d turned off earlier and forgotten about.
“I’d better check these,” she told Seth. “You want to go on ahead?”
He shook his head. “I’ll wait.”
She listened to a couple of messages that were routine, then realized that the next one was from the doctor she’d seen. Heart pounding, she listened to it.
“Oh my God,” she murmured, then played it again. No, she concluded, she hadn’t misheard.
“What?” Seth asked. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
She handed him the cell phone. “Listen,” she whispered. “Then tell me if I heard it right.”
As his jaw dropped and his eyes widened, she knew there’d been no mistake. He stared at her.
“You’re pregnant?” he whispered.
“Apparently so,” she said, her astonishment mirroring his.
“You saw a doctor?”
“I went to see an infertility expert to see if I could get pregnant. She ran some tests. I had no idea I might already be pregnant. It must have been really early because she missed it in the exam, too.” She stared into Seth’s eyes. “Are you okay with this?”
He laughed. “I’ve never been more okay with anything in my life,” he told her, picking her up and twirling her around.
Just then Luke and Hannah walked back, regarding them curiously.
“Everything okay?” Hannah asked.
“We’re having a baby,” Abby blurted.
“And getting married,” Seth added hurriedly. “But not in that order. We’re getting married first. I’m thinking tomorrow would be good. Or the next day.”
Luke laughed, then slapped Seth on the back. “Boy, once the two of you get with the program, you don’t waste any time, do you?”
Hannah nudged him with an elbow. “No gloating.”
“Hey, who’s gloating? I’m just happy they saw the light.”
“He’s gloating,” Seth said. “But you know what? I don’t care.” He grinned at Luke. “Are you interested in being the best man?”
“I’m there,” Luke confirmed.
Abby turned to Hannah. “And you? Matron of honor?”
Hannah’s smile was almost as wide as the one Abby could feel on her own face. “Done,” she said at once. “Anything you need, you can count on me.”
“Just make sure I don’t trip going down the aisle,” Abby said.
“Church wedding?” Hannah asked. “Town hall?”
Abby glanced at Seth, who clearly guessed exactly what she was thinking. He nodded.
“Seaview Inn, if it’s okay with Grandma Jenny,” Abby said.
“That’s perfect!” Hannah said. “She’ll be thrilled.”
And for Abby, it would be proof at last that she was well and truly home for good.
Epilogue
Seth stood nervously beside Luke in the living room at Seaview Inn. Christmas decorations had been replaced with huge bowls of fresh spring flowers. Only a few guests had gathered, including his sisters, Jason, Jeff, Jack Ferguson and Lesley Ann. Grandma Jenny and Ella Mae sat in places of honor in the front row of chairs set up for the service.
Recorded music announced the start of the ceremony. Seth looked toward the foyer, then grinned as Isabella toddled unsteadily into the room clinging to Kelsey’s hand and tossing fistfuls of flower petals in her path. When she caught sight of her dad, she let out a scream and headed in his direction.
Then came Hannah, wearing a deep blue silk dress that shimmered like the sea at night.
Seth’s breath caught in his throat as Abby stepped into view, wearing a simple cream silk sheath and carrying a bouquet of daisies as a tribute to the day he’d brought her flowers stolen from one of Jenny’s containers. As she reached his side, he leaned close.
“Did you steal those?”
She laughed. “Nope, Grandma Jenny gave them to me of her own free will. She seemed to think they might have some special significance.”
“And I thought I’d gotten away with it,” Seth said, then turned to face Sandra, who’d agreed to conduct the ceremony.
When it came time for their vows, Seth looked into Abby’s eyes and saw everything he’d ever dreamed of. “You are my future and my hope for all that’s good,” he told her. “Whatever comes our way, we’re strong enough to face it together. If there’s heartache, I promise there will be joy. If there’s tension, I promise to balance that with laughter. Above all, there will be love.” He held her gaze. “Never-ending love.”
Instinctively Abby’s free hand went to her stomach and stayed there. With her other hand, she clung to his. “You have given me everything I ever wanted,” she said. “My dreams are coming true because of you and this life we’re pledging to build together. You are my heart and my future. You and our family will always be the most important things in my life. I love you, Seth, today and forever.”
They exchanged rings and Sandra pronounced them husband and wife. Seth looked into the face of this woman who’d taught him that love was possible, even after heartbreak.
“I love you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her.
And in that kiss he proved that what had happened on the beach all those weeks ago was no fluke. Abby could still—and always would—take his breath away!
* * * * *
Look for Sherryl Woods’s next novel,
THE DEVANEYS: RYAN AND SEAN
available soon from Harlequin MIRA
at your favorite retail outlet.
Keep reading for an excerpt from SEAVIEW INN by Sherryl Woods.
“Woods is noted for appealing, character-driven stories that are often infused with the flavor and fragrance of the South.”
—Library Journal
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1
Hannah Matthews prided herself on being sensible and responsible. A single mom and a public relations executive handling several very demanding but fascinating clients, she was the person to turn to in any crisis. She claimed there wasn’t a superstitious bone in her body, but she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something to the old adage that things happened in threes, especially bad things. She was also losing her faith that God never gave a person more than they could handle, because she was definitely on overload.
Not quite three months past her final chemo treatment for breast cancer and less than a month after her mother’s death from the very same disease, here she was back in a town she hadn’t been able to flee fast enough, standing in front of the bed-and-breakfast that had once been her much-despised home. Worse, she was facing the arduous prospect of trying to convince her stubborn eighty-five-year-old grandmother that it was time to move into an assisted-living community and sell Seaview Inn. Life couldn’t get much more stressful than this, or if it could, she didn’t want to find out how.
“Hannah, why are you just standing out there daydreaming?” her grandmother demanded from behind the inn’s screen door, her tone every bit as querulous and demanding as Hannah remembered from her last visit home. “As hot as it is, leaving this front door wide open is a waste of air-conditioning. And why weren’t you here this morning? You told me you’d be here this morning. I’ve been sitting on the porch watching for you most of the day. The heat finally drove me inside.”
Hannah bit back a sigh and grabbed the handle of her suitcase to pull it along behind her. “My flight was delayed, Gran. Remember, I called you from the airport in New York to let you know?”
Her grandmother’s faded hazel eyes filled with confusion, yet another recent change from her once astute demeanor. “You did? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Gran, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m here.”
“And about time, too,” her grandmother added with a little humph.
Hannah placed an arm around her grandmother’s frail shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You look good, Gran. Are you feeling okay?”
Truthfully, her grandmother looked as if a strong wind would blow her away. She’d lost weight she could ill afford to lose. Her face, filled with eighty-five years of lines and wrinkles, was sallow. Losing her only child, Hannah’s mother, had taken a lot out of her. Her friends in town had called Hannah to let her know that Jenny had rarely left the house since the funeral. She’d been skipping the meetings of her quilting circle and, more telling, Sunday services at church. They were worried about her.
“She’s just going to fade away, die of a broken heart all alone, if you ask me,” Rachel Morrison had said when she’d called.
Hannah hadn’t missed the critical note in Rachel’s voice, the unmistakable hint that Hannah had been irresponsible to run off right after her mother’s burial and leave her grandmother to cope with her grief and Seaview Inn all on her own.
Though her family knew what she was struggling with, Hannah had been unwilling to share her own cancer crisis with any of these well-meaning neighbors. She’d been unable to defend her actions in any way that might have satisfied them. How could she possibly tell them that seeing her mom’s quick decline and painful death while in the middle of her own treatment had left her terrified? She hadn’t been able to get away from Seaview and the memories of her mother’s final days fast enough. She believed that a positive attitude was an essential ingredient for surviving cancer, but it was almost impossible to maintain that attitude in the face of her mother’s death from a recurrence that had come less than two years after she’d first been diagnosed.
So, instead of explaining, Hannah had succumbed to guilt and dutifully taken the remaining two weeks of leave she’d accumulated during years of ignoring vacation time and socking away sick days to come here. That two weeks was all that was left after the time taken for her mastectomy and then the chemo, which had knocked her for a loop despite her stubborn determination to pretend she was just fine. Her boss had grudgingly agreed to let her off, but he’d made it plain he wasn’t one bit happy about the timing.
In less than twenty-four hours, she’d flown back to Florida, rented a car, driven for an hour, and then taken a ferry out to Seaview Key, a tiny island community of less than a thousand full-time residents just off Florida’s west coast. Once there, she’d had to deal with traffic jams caused by winter tourists. All of which, given her current frame of mind, was trying, to say the least.
Worse, she had exactly fourteen days to convince her grandmother to sell the inn—which was also the family’s longtime home—and move into a retirement community where she’d be well cared for. Since Grandma Jenny’s parents had opened Seaview Inn when the island had been little more than a fishing village reached by boat, Hannah had a hunch her work was cut out for her. Her grandmother sometimes exhibited a tenacious streak of sentimentality that overrode common sense.
“I know it’s only four o’clock, but we’ll eat supper now,” Grandma Jenny declared. “I missed lunch and I’m hungry. You can unpack your things later.” She glanced at the suitcase Hannah had left at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the family’s private quarters on the left and to the sprawling wing of guest rooms on the right. “Didn’t bring much, did you? You having the rest of your things sent?”
Hannah stared at her blankly. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re moving home, of course.” Jenny’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I’ve told everyone in town who’s been asking that we’d have the inn up and running again in another week or two, a month at the outside. While your mother was sick, we let a few things slide, but with the two of us working that should give us enough time to get things shipshape, don’t you think so? There’s still a couple of good months of the winter season left, and we’ll draw some folks from the mainland in April and May. Of course, a lot of our regulars had to make other arrangements, but they’ll be back with us next year, I’m sure.”
There were so many things wrong with her grandmother’s assumptions, Hannah couldn’t decide where to start. It didn’t matter, anyway, because Grandma Jenny hadn’t waited for a reply. She was already heading toward the kitchen at a clip that belied the reported evidence of her declining health. In fact, Hannah very much suspected that Grandma Jenny would outlive her and do it with gusto.
* * *
All during their early supper of broiled snapper and fresh tomatoes and strawberries from the local farmer’s market, Grandma Jenny continued to bombard Hannah with her plans for reopening Seaview Inn as quickly as possible. She was as alert and strong-willed as ever.
“You can put that PR experience of yours to good use,” she told Hannah. “Get some ads running up north. A lot of our regulars in Ohio and Michigan who come later in the season need to know our doors are open again. Maybe you can even do something on the Internet. I hear that’s the best place to advertise these days. Or we can send postcards. I have the addresses for most of the customers who’ve stayed here in the past few years. Had ’em back to the beginning, but I figure those people are mostly dead and gone. What do you think?”
Hannah put down her fork and tried to find the right words to tell her grandmother that instead of spending time and money on advertising, they needed to be thinking about finding a good real estate agent. Then it occurred to her that a little renovating would give the place the kind of curb appeal needed to result in a quicker sale. Maybe she didn’t have to discuss selling it just yet. She could wage that battle another day, when she wasn’t quite so exhausted.
“I’ll think about it,” she said at last. “First thing tomorrow, you and I can take a look and see what needs to be done, okay?”
“Why wait?” Gran said, bou
ncing up, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Daylight might be scarce at the end of January, but we’ve got an hour or so till the sun goes down. We can check out the exterior first. I’ve been thinking a new coat of paint should be the first order of business, something bright and cheerful, maybe a nice turquoise with white trim.”
Hannah winced, envisioning a garish result that would rob the inn of whatever tiny scrap of class it had.
“Well, come on,” her grandmother called back. “Daylight’s wasting.”
With a sigh, Hannah followed her outside.
Over the years, the inn had grown from the original sprawling, two-story beach house that had been built in the thirties as a private home. Because of its size and her great-grandparents’ enthusiasm for meeting people, they’d opened their spare rooms to paying guests. That first experimental season had been so successful, they’d officially named it Seaview Inn and expanded over the next few years, adding one section in the early forties, another in the fifties, operating much like the bed-and-breakfasts that had come along later.
Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much attention to architectural detail in the additions. Wings jutted out haphazardly, one on each side, angled so that the guest rooms on the right and the big formal dining room on the left, with its soaring windows and hodgepodge collection of antique tables and chairs, and the second-floor family quarters all had a view of the beach across the road. To Hannah’s disapproving eye, it looked like a cross between a halfway decent home and a seedy motel. It would take more than a coat of paint, no matter the color, to fix it.
Her favorite part was the porch, which stretched across the front of the original house with a row of white rockers and a collection of antique wicker chairs with fading flowered cushions. In past years there had been hanging baskets of flowers, but this year neither her mother nor grandmother had had the time or energy to spare on such things.
Home to Seaview Key (A Seaview Key Novel) Page 32
