Across from Holly, Vance and Calista smile at each other. The gold and pink sunset warms their faces and touches Calista’s halo of hair, and Holly realizes that they’d make a great ad for the island. As surreptitiously as possible, she slides her phone out of her back pocket and opens the camera app.
“Christmas Key natives—you’ve welcomed us and let us plunder your island for treasure. For that, we thank you.”
Holly looks at the faces of the other islanders and realizes that most of them are taking him literally. Maria Agnelli shakes her head, lips pursed angrily.
“Any more holes?” Fiona whispers, leaning closer to Holly.
“Nothing since Hal’s front yard,” she whispers back.
“And no leads on who was outside your house last night?”
A shudder runs the length of Holly’s body. She’s been able to put last night out of her mind while working her way through a busy day, but with night falling, the memory of Pucci growling in the darkness and of a shadowy figure running away from her house comes back full-force.
“Nope, no leads,” she says. The last sliver of sun is fast disappearing, and Jake goes around, lighting the long-handled torches that Holly purchased for the occasion. They look like a bunch of island natives in the dusky night. Mexi and Mori are weaving through the crowd, playing tag in the sand.
“Now we’ll shove off with the promise to return again, mates—maybe when you least expect it,” Sinker says with a wicked laugh. He tips the chalice back and drinks. After his first sip, the rest of the pirates do the same.
“It’s a pirate’s life for me!” the men shout in unison, throwing their arms around one another’s shoulders as they make their way to the water’s edge.
In short order, Cap runs the skiff out to the big ship and back again a few times, collecting and depositing pirates with each trip. Sinker waits until the end, holding Bonnie in his meaty arms as he kisses her. The wind picks up the tail ends of the black scarf tied around his head, and there’s a three-day beard covering his lined cheeks. Calista and Vance gather Mexi and Mori and lead them away from the passionate embrace.
Cap has room for Bonnie to join him on the last run out to the pirate ship. They skim the water on the small boat while Bonnie holds tightly to her man under the emerging stars. It’s quite a scene, and even Holly has to admit—if only to herself—that there’s a certain romance to a pirate ship in the night, lit up from within and glowing against the mysterious depths of sky and sea. Sinker pulls Bonnie close one last time before climbing onto the rope ladder that hangs from the side of the ship. It’s worrisome to watch a man his age dangle against the side of a huge boat, and to know that the only thing standing between him and a perilous fall is his own unreliable agility. Holly squints as she watches, hoping for the best.
Finally, Sinker’s up and over the side of the boat safely, and Cap pulls away. Bonnie’s silhouette against the night is that of a heartbroken woman: she faces the big boat as Cap brings them back to shore, one hand held limply in the air in farewell.
It would be a more touching scene for Holly if she weren’t so deeply exhausted. Before the boat even pulls up its anchor, she’s said goodbye to Buckhunter and Fiona and is back in her cart with the headlamps on, driving herself home.
In her driveway, she finds another hole.
Chapter 12
“The details haven’t completely worked themselves out yet,” Calista says to Millie on Wednesday morning as they sit across from one another at the bistro tables outside of Mistletoe Morning Brew. “We need to find out more about online education and how we can homeschool the boys, but I think we want to do it.”
Holly waves at them both and walks directly into the coffee shop. She’d spent the day before taking Mexi and Mori on a dolphin-hunting excursion, and had let them eat their rice and beans with their hands as they sat on a log on the beach. They’d gotten into three fights that ended in tears; Mexi had tripped and scraped his knee on the sidewalk, which necessitated a quick visit to Fiona’s office for bandaging; and they’d helped Jake wash his golf cart while their parents scoured the island for possible houses to live in.
The hole in the driveway that Holly had driven into Monday night had required another patch job, but Buckhunter had done it in ten minutes that morning, swearing that he hadn’t even heard Pucci bark at whomever was on the property.
“Think they’re gonna stay?” Carrie-Anne asks Holly as she approaches the counter.
Holly glances back over her shoulder, watching through the front window as Millie and Calista talk like old friends. “I think there’s a good chance,” she says.
“Might be fun to have some young ones around.” Carrie-Anne rinses out a coffee pot in the small stainless steel sink behind the counter. “Most of us don’t get to see our grandkids enough, and there’s a real energy that comes with the little guys, you know?”
“Yes, there is an energy,” Holly agrees. “Can I get a peppermint mocha, please?”
“Iced or hot?”
“Hot,” Holly decides. “And an iced latte for Bonnie.”
“Oh, she’s already been in, hon.” Carrie-Anne starts to make Holly’s drink with her back to the counter. “She got a box of pastries to take over to the office, so I think she’s already a few steps ahead of you.”
Holly smiles to herself. “She always is.”
“Gonna miss that gal when she takes off for—where is she headed with that big oaf of a man?”
“Clearwater,” Holly says. The word tastes bad on her tongue, and she wonders when she’ll ever be able to say the name of Bonnie’s new town without looking like she’s sucking on a lemon.
“Huh. Not sure how I feel about that,” Carrie-Anne says, pouring the hot coffee into a to-go cup for Holly. “How about you?”
“I’m not a huge fan of the idea.” It’s a grand understatement, but Holly is committed to keeping her real thoughts to herself when it comes to Bonnie leaving. She’s already painted herself into numerous corners with both Bonnie and Jake by not keeping her true feelings about their love lives inside her own head.
“Well, a girl’s got to follow her heart, I suppose,” Carrie-Anne says, snapping a lid on Holly’s coffee and then ringing it up. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be living on a tropical island with a woman I fell in love with while I was still married to a man.”
Holly laughs quietly. “True.”
“And if my beloved didn’t follow her heart, we wouldn’t be living in a bungalow with a donkey and ten turkeys in our front yard, and we wouldn’t be running a coffee shop that’s decorated like—”
“Don’t tell me,” Holly says, holding up a hand. She looks around at the decor, taking it all in.
“Well, it’s February first, so you can guess the basic premise of this month’s theme.”
“Love, obviously,” Holly says. There’s a shelf near the door that’s stacked with books; Holly walks over to it and shuffles through the pile. “Time Traveler’s Wife,” she reads. “Outlander. Almost Yesterday. Remembrance.” She reorganizes the books and looks at the posters around the shop. They’re all for movies like Peggy Sue Got Married, Midnight in Paris, Groundhog Day, and Somewhere in Time, which shows Christopher Reeve’s handsome profile as he gazes longingly at an old-fashioned portrait of Jane Seymour on a red wall.
“I’ve got a playlist, too,” Carrie-Anne says, holding up a finger to indicate that Holly should wait before she guesses. “Here we go.” She pushes the button on the cd player behind the counter, and music blasts through the speakers in the ceiling. The opening notes of Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” fill the coffee shop.
“Time travel romance?” Holly guesses.
“Ding, ding, ding!” Carrie-Anne claps her hands. “You got it, girl.”
“That’s cool,” Holly says, and she means it. She’d assumed there would be generic love songs and hearts pasted up everywhere, so this unexpected twist pleases her.
“Miss Baxter.” Cap Duncan steps throu
gh the door of the shop. “Just the person I wanted to see.” He closes the door behind him. “We got a village council meeting coming up?”
“February fifteenth,” Holly says, sipping her hot coffee.
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up that people are talking again.”
“About what?”
“Holes in the road, pirates, and,” Cap lowers his voice here and tips his head at the window behind him, “having little ones on the island on a permanent basis.”
“Is that a problem?” Holly’s tone is slightly defensive.
Cap sighs. “Dunno. Haven’t had kids here full-time since you and Emily were young. Guess we’ll have to see.”
“Guess so,” Holly says. She nods at Carrie-Anne and heads for the door. “As always, if anyone has something to say, they just need to let Heddie know so she can put it on the agenda.”
It’s already about sixty-five degrees outside, and Holly breathes in the mild air as she walks up Main Street to the B&B. She hasn’t had the nerve to ask Bonnie about when she plans to leave the island, and everything between them still feels fragile. They’d talked in broad strokes the day before about the things on the calendar for February and March, and Bonnie proof-read an email for Holly to send to Coco’s lawyer about her intention to track revenue directly related to the reality show.
“Your mother’s lawyer got back to us,” Bonnie says the minute Holly’s through the door of the office. She sets her coffee down on the desk and hangs her straw purse on the hook by the door.
“And?”
“Says you need to set up a system to find out whether people inquiring and booking stays on the island are are based on publicity from the show.”
“But why?” Holly pulls out her desk chair and flops down. “Who cares?”
“Apparently Coco cares, sugar.” Bonnie looks up from the laptop screen, gazing at Holly over the rims of her pink and yellow striped reading glasses. “And if she gets her lawyer involved, I think it’s probably best to just comply. I’ll figure out a system for tracking people who only heard about us from the show—don’t worry about that.”
But Holly does worry about it, because when Bonnie is gone, she’s going to be left fielding all the calls, sifting through the information, booking the rooms at the B&B, planning events on the island, and organizing their advertising efforts. All of a sudden it feels like a weight is crushing her chest and blocking her windpipe. Holly stands up and walks to the whiteboard on the wall. She swallows around the painful lump in her throat.
“Last I heard, the show was set to air at the end of April, so I have some time to figure out a strategy for that.” Holly uncaps the blue marker and looks at the space on the whiteboard in front of her. She’s purposely tried out the singular there, talking about when she’ll have to figure out a strategy, as she can’t count on Bonnie being there to help her. Now that she’s standing in front of the whiteboard, she doesn’t even know what to write.
“Honey?” Bonnie says with concern. “You okay?”
Holly sets the pen back in the tray. With a forced smile, she turns around and faces Bonnie. “Yeah, everything is good. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“At least we’re not listening to cannons firing off at all hours,” Bonnie says. “That has to make you happy.”
“Me?” Holly says, pointing at her own chest. “You were the one who freaked out about the cannons!”
“Oh yeah, that was me.” Bonnie gives Holly her most winning smile.
“How are you going to get used to being with a pirate?” Holly asks, her hands resting on the chair back as she stands behind her desk.
“I’m not sure,” Bonnie says. “Honestly, I’m going to take this crazy thing day-by-day. It’s kind of out of left field, isn’t it?”
Holly nods, looking at her hands. “I’ve never seen anything happen that fast,” she says. “Maybe that’s why it worries me so much. And it also bugs me that I never knew you were unhappy here.”
“Unhappy?” Bonnie’s jaw drops. “Honey, no! I’m not unhappy here—never have been. I just got bitten on the tail by a love bug.”
“A love bug?” Holly makes a face.
“Oh, you know what I mean. And sugar, Doug challenges me. That man keeps me on the edge of my seat, and nothing fans my flames more than that.”
Holly chews on the inside of her cheek, inspecting her long fingers with their short, filed nails as she leans on the back of her chair. “I guess,” she says. “I mean, if he makes you happy, then that’s what counts.” It doesn’t sound totally convincing, but it’s the best Holly can do, given her general distrust of Sinker McBludgeon.
“Any man who can sweep you off your feet in forty-eight hours or less is worth at least a little more investigating, don’t you think?”
“Sure, Bon. At least a little.”
The warm Florida sun streams through the big windows that look out onto Main Street, and it touches Bonnie’s red hair like the flames of an autumn fire on crackling leaves. There’s a tenderness to the quiet moment in the office, and it fills Holly with longing for something that isn’t even gone yet.
Chapter 13
Holly slides out the back door of the B&B on the morning of February’s village council meeting. It’s quiet on the pool deck, and she paces around the kidney-shaped pool, running through the possible objections the islanders might have to the items on the agenda.
In the weeks since the pirates’ departure, Holly and Bonnie have worked to smooth the way for the Guy family, who have officially decided to make Christmas Key their home. They’d gone back to Toronto after their visit to make arrangements, and Holly’s been working on the house they chose on White Christmas Way. She’s spending all her free time painting, clearing the yard, and accepting the furniture deliveries as they arrive by boat. As owner of the property, it’s Holly’s job to get the house in shape for her new tenants.
“Holly?” A voice interrupts her thoughts. She looks over the fence and sees the top half of Bridget’s face as she stands on the sidewalk on Main Street. “Can I come in?”
Stifling her knee-jerk response to say no, that she’s too busy right now to talk, Holly nods. “Sure.”
Bridget waits for Holly to lift the latch on the inside of the squeaky gate for her so she can come in. “Hi,” she says as the gate slams shut behind her.
“What’s up, Bridget?” Holly cuts right to the chase. She’s got agendas to print and collate in her office, and she’s promised Bonnie that when she comes back she’ll have coffee and a muffin in her hands for her hardworking assistant.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
Holly pulls in air through her nostrils, hoping that they don’t flare with obvious impatience. As mayor, she reminds herself, it’s her job to listen to all of the islanders and to hear their concerns, and this extends to Bridget as well, no matter what her misgivings are about the girl.
“It’s two things, really,” Bridget says, smoothing her wavy, blonde hair with one hand. She sits on the edge of a pool chair without being invited to do so and stretches out her long, toned legs. There’s a tiny, blood-red tattoo of a rose on one ankle.
“I’m all ears.”
“Okay, the first one is…I need some advice,” she says, pressing her palms together like she’s holding a delicate piece of tissue paper between them. “As you know, there aren’t many young women on the island—it’s pretty much just you and me.”
“And Emily and Fiona,” Holly adds.
“Right,” Bridget says, giving Holly an indulgent look. “But you and I have some things in common that are different than the other girls.”
Holly starts running through her opening remarks for the village council meeting in her head while nodding and trying to look focused. “Uh huh. Go on.”
“We find ourselves in certain situations that, you know, maybe the others don’t. I mean, given age and circumstance,” she says delicately.
“Okay.”
“An
d there are some things that require confidentiality, which—I’m sure you know by now—isn’t really a thing on this island.”
Thoughts of the village council meeting fade from Holly’s mind for the moment. “What exactly do you need confidentiality for?” She narrows her eyes at Bridget.
“I guess what I’m asking,” Bridget says, lowering her eyes to look down at the frayed edges of the olive green skirt that barely covers her tanned thighs, “is whether I can trust everyone on this island.”
Holly is completely at a loss. She has no idea where Bridget is going with this, and there’s a loud warning signal in her head that’s telling her to be on guard. “I think you can,” she says defensively. “I trust the people on this island. I’ve known most of them my whole life.”
“What about Fiona?”
“She’s my best friend,” Holly says, her haunches up at the mention of Fiona’s name. “I trust her completely.”
“As a doctor?”
“Of course.”
“Okay,” Bridget nods, standing. “Then I guess I’ll trust her, too.” She walks to the gate, the muscles of her young, shapely legs flexing as she pauses and turns back to Holly. “Thanks.”
“Wait,” Holly says, remembering that Bridget had come to her with two items to discuss. “What was the other thing?”
Bridget sighs. “I really hate to bring it up,” she says, not quite meeting Holly’s eye. “But I have some concerns.”
“About?”
“About the people who are moving here.”
“Huh,” Holly says. She folds her arms and waits.
“You know I spent a couple of years in Hollywood,” Bridget says. “And I got used to all kinds of things. I had to deal with people whose religions I didn’t agree with, and I’m even fine with people like Ellen and Carrie-Anne.”
“People like Ellen and Carrie-Anne?” Realization dawns on about a three-second delay. “You mean…”
The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three Page 9
