"I guess."
"No," Sam said abruptly. "We don't need a candle."
Megan's smile vanished. "Why not, Daddy?"
"Candles are for special occasions, honey," he said more gently as he headed for the door. "I'll get some drinks."
* * *
Sam walked into the hallway and leaned against the wall, stopping to catch his breath, to steady his pulse. Candles are for special occasions. What a stupid thing to say. But the thought of a candlelight dinner with Alli... No, he couldn't do it.
Alli put his stomach in a knot every time she walked through the door, every time she opened her mouth. She'd destroyed his life not once but twice, for when he'd finally come to terms with being a father and a husband—after he'd struggled so hard to make it all work, she'd bailed on him.
A twinge of guilt poked at his conscience. Okay, so maybe he'd kept up with Tessa's life, stored a few photographs. They were harmless pictures. Half the world owned magazines with Tessa's face on the cover. And how could he tell Alli that her grandmother had given him most of the clippings? It would only destroy their relationship, because she'd think her grandmother was favoring her sister.
And what did it all matter anyway? He'd married Alli as soon as he'd found out she was pregnant. He'd been twenty years old, Alli only eighteen. But they'd had to grow up overnight. He'd thrown aside all of his plans of traveling and seeing the world and gone to work for his father, eventually taking over the business and working his ass off to provide for his family.
Damn it all. He felt as unsettled as the weather outside. He didn't know whether to be furious or relieved it was all over. He didn't know why he couldn't look at Alli anymore, why her voice made him so nervous, why he was so afraid that the merest touch of her hands would be the death of him. They'd lived together for a long time, but he'd never been as aware of her as he was right now.
Alli walked out of the family room and bumped into him, not expecting to find him still standing there. He automatically reached out to steady her, his hands coming to rest on her waist, his fingers burning as the warmth of her body seeped through the thin material of her dress.
She sucked in a short breath, and his pulse quickened. He didn't want to look into her eyes. It was bad enough that he could smell her favorite perfume—that he could feel her body under his hands, that he could hear her breathing.
He couldn't look into her eyes. He couldn't take that risk. He didn't know what he would see there.
He wasn't sure he wanted to know. She'd confused him since the day she'd moved in next door as a bossy little girl, changing personalities as often as a chameleon changed color. Just when he thought he knew who she was, she turned into someone else.
"Sam?" she questioned, her voice turning husky.
It almost undid him. He'd loved her voice in the dark of the night, whispering, promising... He drew in a breath and dropped his hands from her waist. "I'll get those drinks."
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Look at me."
He sent her a brief glance that barely grazed her face, then turned away. "I'm thirsty."
"Sam--” The ringing phone cut off her words, and Sam felt a great relief. He brushed past her, returning to the family room to find Megan on the phone.
"Oh, hi, Mr. Beckett," Megan said. "Yes, he's here."
Sam took the phone from her hand. "William? How are you?"
"Not too good, Sam." William's usually brisk seventy-six-year-old voice trembled. "It's Phoebe. I don't know how to tell you this, but she's—she's had a stroke."
"No!" Sam couldn't stop the word from bursting out of his mouth. He sat down on the edge of the desk, grateful for the support. Not Phoebe. Alli's grandmother was strong, vital and energetic, and he couldn't imagine the world without her. "How bad is she?"
"I don't know yet. We were walking along the pier and all of a sudden she stopped making sense and she couldn't walk. I got help as soon as I could," he said helplessly. "We're at the hospital now. They said to call the family. I couldn't find Allison. She's not home."
"She's here."
"Then you'll tell her?"
"Yes. I'll tell her." Sam looked at Alli standing in the doorway and saw the fear draw sharp lines in her face.
"And Sam..." William hesitated. "I know there's bad blood and all, but I've called Tessa and asked her to come home. She agreed. She'll be here tomorrow."
Sam's entire body tightened, a knee-jerk reaction impossible to stop. He hadn't seen Tessa since the night he'd told her he was marrying her sister. And now she was coming home.
Because Phoebe was sick, he told himself. It had nothing to do with him.
"Sam?" Alli asked after he'd said good-bye to William and hung up the phone. She'd wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could protect herself from whatever was coming.
"Your grandmother has had a stroke. She's in the hospital."
Alli's eyes searched his. "Is she--”
"No one knows anything yet," he said quickly.
"I don't understand. Grams never gets sick. She's strong. I just spoke to her a few hours ago. I have to go. I have to see her." Alli looked wildly around the room, searching for something. Sam reached out and closed her fingers over the keys she still held in her hand.
"Easy," he said. "I'll take you."
She looked into his eyes with desperation. "She has to be all right. She has to be."
"She's a fighter, All."
"But she's seventy-six years old."
"Mommy, is Grams going to die?" Megan asked.
Alli turned and opened her arms as Megan ran into a tight hug. "I hope not, honey. I really hope not."
They clung together for a long minute, and Sam itched to join them, but he couldn't. Alli had made it clear that she didn't want him in her life.
Finally, Alli set Megan aside. "Go get your things, honey. We need to leave."
Megan ran out of the room, and Alli slowly straightened. Sam dug his hands into his pockets to stop himself from doing anything foolish, like hugging her.
"I can't lose Grams," Alli whispered, her eyes filled with fear. "She's all I have left of my family."
Sam didn't say a word. It wasn't true, because Alli wasn't alone. She had a sister—a sister who was coming home. He couldn't stop the sudden quickening of his pulse.
Alli's eyes suddenly changed, and he wondered if she could read his mind.
"Oh, my God! William called Tessa, didn't he?" she asked.
Apparently she could read his mind, or she'd simply added up the equation. Despite the animosity between the two sisters, Phoebe MacGuire adored both of her granddaughters.
"Yes, he called Tessa." It felt strange to say her name out loud. And stranger still to think of seeing Tessa again, her blond hair, her blue eyes, her generous smile. Not that she'd be smiling at him.
"Is she coming back?" Alli asked, her face so tense she could barely get out the words.
"Yes."
"Then those divorce papers can't come a minute too soon."
Sam touched her arm, but she shrugged him away.
"Don't touch me, Sam. You don't have to pretend you care about me anymore. We both know it isn't true."
"I married you, didn't I?"
"There it is again, your favorite refrain—you married me. That was your gift to me. And I'm divorcing you. That's my gift to you. Now I guess it's Tessa's turn."
Chapter Two
It was nine hours from Milan to New York, another six to Portland, and then a couple of hours more in a plush black stretch limousine to the southern Oregon coast. As a supermodel, Tessa MacGuire was used to waking up in one city when she'd gone to sleep in another, to living on black coffee, lemon water, and lettuce. She'd become accustomed to calling her post office box home, spending the holidays with strangers, and smiling no matter how tired or unhappy or lonely she felt.
Most people thought she acted only in front of the camera, but deep down inside Tessa knew she acted almost every day of her life. And no one suspecte
d. No one saw through the smile or the laugh or the cheerful wave. And that's the way she liked it, easy, impersonal, safe.
As Tessa looked out the window at the passing scenery, she knew she'd long ago passed safe. The meadows and dairy farms had given way to the thick forested hills, the last barrier between the valley and the coastline, her new life and her old one. Even the rivers and streams had gone from lazy and peaceful to wild and reckless, the weather changing just as quickly, the clear blue sky suddenly taken over by gray, threatening clouds. She'd heard on the news that it had rained most of the night. Maybe it would storm again. Maybe she wouldn't be able to get home.
Home. The word slipped into her mind unbidden. Tessa didn't want to think of Tucker's Landing as home, but the familiar scenery had begun to awaken her dusty, musty memories from their almost decade-long cocoon.
On impulse, Tessa lowered the window and took in a deep breath of cold, crisp air that smelled of wet pine and fresh grass. A mile or two later, her breath caught in her throat as the forest gave way to sharp rocky bluffs, and as they turned south, the right side of the road fell away in a sheer drop to the blue-green ocean below.
The sea was magnificent—tall, booming waves hitting the rocky shore, spraying a fine mist over the rocks and a few sea lions basking in the sunlight. The coastline wove in and out, the tides pushing and pulling at the beaches below with a relentless beat. She'd forgotten how overwhelming the ocean could be, consuming everything within its reach.
It was all too familiar—and all too much. Tessa rolled up the window and leaned against the leather seat, closing her eyes against the view, steeling her heart against the memories, the hurt that went right down to her bones whenever she thought about Sam and Alli.
God, how she'd once loved Sam Tucker! He'd been her best friend, her boyfriend, and now the last man she ever wanted to see again. And Alli—how could she look at her sister and not think of her betrayal? How could she face either of them?
Sam and Alli were married now. They had a daughter together, a daughter who was eight years old. Tessa shook her head, unable to believe how much time had gone by. It seemed like only yesterday they had all been teenagers, young, restless, in love, with their lives stretched out before them. The future had been filled with possibilities; now there was only uncertainty and fear.
Tessa's thoughts turned to her grandmother. She hoped and prayed that the news wasn't as bad as Mr. Beckett had implied. Perhaps by the time she arrived in Tucker's Landing her grandmother would be awake and smiling and telling them it was all right. "I can't die yet," she'd say, "because I'm not through living."
It had been Grams's favorite expression, Tessa remembered fondly, words meant to reassure her that unlike her parents, who had died in a car accident, her grandmother wasn't going anywhere. Every night before bed, they would look out at the stars and her grandmother would point out two that appeared to be winking at them and tell Tessa to blow a kiss to her parents. Then Grams would tuck her into bed and say, "I can't die yet, honey. I haven't finished counting the stars, and don't you know, my darling girl, that you will never be alone, because there is always love, and love lives forever."
But Grams was wrong. Love didn't always live forever. And there was a good chance Tessa would end up alone.
"Miss MacGuire?" the chauffeur said over the intercom.
Tessa opened her eyes, grateful to have her disturbing thoughts interrupted. "Yes?"
"I'm not clear on the turnoff after First Street."
"Left on Bayberry Drive, a mile down the road to the end. The house is the last one on the edge of the bluff. It has a widow's walk."
"A what?"
"A long balcony that winds around the front and side of the house overlooking the ocean." The place where her grandmother had once paced incessantly, watching and waiting for her husband's boat to sail into the harbor. How scared she must have been that last time when his boat hadn't come back after the storm—maybe as scared as she must be now.
"Do you want to go to your grandmother's house now or the hospital?" the chauffeur asked.
Tessa hesitated. She was hours earlier than planned, having flown all night. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, too early to go to the hospital. She needed a few moments to pull herself together, to get her emotions in check so she wouldn't fall apart when she saw Grams—or Alli or Sam.
"The house," she decided.
Tessa pulled out a brush from her purse and ran it through her hair, taking peace in the reassuring movements. She could do this. She could go to the hospital, make sure that Phoebe was being well cared for. She could be cool, polite, and impersonal when she saw Sam and Alli again. She'd mastered those traits over the years and no one ever suspected anything was wrong—why should it be any different now?
A tiny voice reminded her that there had been a time when she and Alli could read each other's thoughts, when she and Sam could finish each other's sentences. But it wouldn't be like that anymore. Sam and Alli were together, and she was on her own.
Tessa straightened as the limo turned into the main streets leading into downtown. Tucker's Landing certainly appeared to be flourishing. Flowers were bursting out of window boxes, freshly painted signs proclaimed antiques, books, cafés, and other touristy Kindles. A huge banner hung over the main intersection announcing the upcoming Fourth of July celebration, complete with kite festival, clam chowder bake-off, fireworks, and live music.
The Fourth of July had always been a special holiday, because it was also her grandparents' anniversary. Every year they would trek down to O'Meara's Oyster Farm to shuck wild oysters until they found a pearl. It didn't matter that the pearls didn't match in size or color or shape; they were making a necklace, a circle of love to last for all time.
It had been John MacGuire's idea to make the necklace for his beloved Phoebe. A man of the sea, Tessa's grandfather believed that the wild pearls symbolized hope, beauty, strength, and love, everything he wanted for the family.
Nostalgia ripped through Tessa as she thought about the times she and Alli had waded through low tide to find what they were sure would be the oyster that held the perfect pearl. They hadn't known then that perfection was impossible—or that the necklace would never be completed because John MacGuire would die just before his fiftieth wedding anniversary. The forty-nine-pearl strand remained one pearl short of completion.
Tessa sighed as each turn of the limousine brought new sights but old memories. The heart of the town was still the harbor, filled with fishing boats, small yachts, and sailboats. A long pier stretched out to the sea, a wooden strip filled with shops and restaurants, a place where fresh crabs and lobsters made friends with the tourists.
Down the road, next to the pier, was the sign for Tucker's Charter Boats, offering fishing, whale watching, and ocean tours. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered running down to the harbor late on a Saturday afternoon to meet Sam after he finished helping his father for the day.
Finally, thankfully, the stores turned to houses and the sidewalks turned to grass, and the quiet, sleepy neighborhoods reminded her that she didn't have to face everything yet, not quite yet.
But she felt jittery, and the sudden ringing of her cell phone made her jump. She told herself that no one had this number besides professional associates. It was safe to answer.
"Hello?" she said.
"Where the hell are you, babe?"
Tessa couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at the sound of her favorite photographer's voice. "You won't believe me if I tell you, Jimmy."
"I guess that means you're not on your way to L.A. for our meeting today."
"I left you a message."
"A very cryptic one," Jimmy Duggan said. "Something about a family emergency. I didn't even know you had a family. So what happened?"
"My grandmother had a stroke."
"I'm sorry."
Jimmy's simple words brought a lump into her throat. "I'm sorry, too. We were supposed to get together a
few months ago, and I canceled on her. Now I might never have a chance to talk to her again."
"Hey, you gotta have some faith there, babe. You gotta believe in what you want to happen. Then it happens."
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. Jimmy was an incurable optimist. She'd watched him sit out a potential hurricane to get the perfect shot for a magazine cover. And damn if he hadn't gotten the shot. But then Jimmy was used to getting what he wanted. With his dark Irish good looks, he could have been a model instead of a photographer. Instead he'd opted to make a career and a fortune for himself with photographs that were always so much better than anyone expected.
Jimmy was almost too good at capturing her face, her eyes, in ways that seemed far too revealing. Sometimes, Tessa wasn't sure if it wouldn't be safer to work with someone else, someone who didn't see nearly as much as Jimmy did.
"You still there?" Jimmy asked. "Or have I once again bored you to sleep?"
"That's you, the ultimate in boring."
"Ouch. So, when do you think we can reschedule?"
"I don't know. I'll have to call you."
"My schedule is free right now. Just let me know.”
"Thanks. You're a pal."
There was a momentary hesitation on the other end of the line. "Yeah, you're a pal, too, babe. See ya."
Tessa shut off the phone as the limousine pulled up in front of her grandmother's house. It was too soon. She wasn't ready. She wanted to tell the driver to keep going, to take her somewhere else, but he had already turned off the engine and come around to open the door.
She automatically smiled, but she couldn't move. Her gaze drifted past the chauffeur to the Tucker house next door. She remembered her grandmother telling her that Sam's parents had moved to Arizona, but the house looked the same. Whoever lived there now hadn't even put on a new coat of paint, hadn't taken down the basketball hoop over the garage or trimmed the rosebushes by the front windows.
Her heart caught again on the memories. How could she do this? How could she smell the flowers blooming with the scent of summers past? Even the breeze sang of long-forgotten songs and childish words from their neighborhood ball games. If she closed her eyes for just a moment, she could be right back there in the days of innocence, no problems, no betrayals, no fears.
Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Page 32
