by Olivia Miles
He wasn’t interested in these women. He wasn’t interested in dating. He’d been in love before and he’d learned his lesson.
Yet here he was, being schooled again. Britt Conway, looking as pretty as she had the last time he’d seen her.
Nearly half a lifetime ago.
“Robbie, Britt’s here to help out until Dennis is back on his feet,” he heard a voice say, pulling his eyes away from Britt, snapping him from the shock of being in the same room as her again.
Robbie darted his gaze at Steve Conway, watching the way the man shifted nervously on his feet. So he’d known. And decided not to say anything. And here Robbie had dared to think that he’d stepped out of retirement to take over for a few weeks. Surely he was going to reschedule that cruise?
“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it,” Steve said now, as he fumbled for his reading glasses and pushed past Robbie for the door. He turned and looked at Britt. “It’s good to have you back, Britt.”
Back. She was back. Robbie still couldn’t quite process those words.
Steve dropped his glasses and bent to pick them up, and then, with one more glance in both of their directions, he was gone, leaving Robbie alone with a woman he hadn’t intended to see again, not when he moved back to Blue Harbor, not even when he’d taken the job at Conway Farms. Other than a wedding a few years back, and then only for a single night at an inn two towns over, Britt hadn’t been back in fourteen years, they’d all said, not since her mother had died.
Fourteen years was a long time. And Robbie knew better than most people how deep a loss could cut you, change you.
He offered her a smile. Rolled back on his heels, trying to think of what to even say. I’m sorry? Are you sorry? How are you? Why are you here?
There were many things he could ask Britt Conway, after all, but none of that seemed to be his place anymore. And besides, he’d changed. He wasn’t the same boy she knew all those years ago. And looking at her, with her blond hair pulled back in a tight knot, not a strand out of place, and her grey eyes looking wan and cool instead of bright and alive, she wasn’t the same girl either.
“This is a surprise,” he said, resting his hand on the knob of the open door, preparing for a quick exit.
She raised a single eyebrow. “So you weren’t tipped off?”
Ah, so she was still mad at him, then. Why, he couldn’t be sure.
After all, last he’d checked, she’d been the one to break his heart, not the other way around.
2
Robbie pulled up to town hall and glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his truck. Keira’s ballet recital was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes, and he hoped that his parents had gotten there ahead of time to save him a seat. It was bad enough picking her up from dance class each week, when the single mothers decided to offer their services. Services described as offering to help with Keira’s bun, because apparently he wasn’t doing it correctly, or so the dance instructor, an older, strict, and severely thin woman who had been running the place for forty years, had told him, both verbally, and in a letter that she folded into Keira’s pink tote bag.
Then there were the other offers: playdates at the park together, a seat at their holiday table, a carpooling schedule that he suspected would lead to more trouble than it was worth.
There was only one girl for him right now, and she was six.
With that, he grabbed the flowers he’d picked up for her at the flower shop and walked up the steps of the town hall to the auditorium that housed all community events, from the local theatre group to dance recitals.
The room was already crowded and buzzing, and he scanned it quickly before spotting his mother, waving eagerly at him. He grinned to himself. Should have known they’d find a way to get the front row, center. He didn’t need to ask how early they’d had to arrive to secure that spot. One of the perks of having a loyal staff at the inn they’d run all their married life, they told him.
Sometimes, he didn’t know how he would have made it through the past year if they hadn’t insisted he move back to town so they could help him out. As it was, he was in over his head most days, and he was already afraid of the teen years. And the tween years, which seemed like a new concept to him, and one that already made his stomach tighten when he thought of how close they were. Keira’s birthday was coming up, just a couple weeks away. It would be the second birthday they would spend without Stephanie.
And it still didn’t sit right. He didn’t know if it ever would.
Sometimes, he thought Keira had adjusted better than he had to this new arrangement, to leaving behind the city and coming to this small town. She was sweet, and at nearly seven, she was still happy to hold his hand, content to spend the weekends together. Happy to be his number one gal. His only gal.
“Thanks for getting her ready for this,” he said to his mother, as he took his seat.
Bonnie gave him a reassuring smile. “I took extra care with the bun, although never having had a daughter, I’ll admit that one of the mothers did have to assist me when I dropped her off backstage.”
Robbie stifled a groan. Here it came. If it wasn’t one of the unmarried or divorced women in town, it was his own mother. Everyone knew what was best for him. Or so they thought.
“A very nice woman,” Bonnie continued, her eyes taking on a hopeful look. “All on her own, too. Said her husband left her and her little girl when the baby was only two!” She clucked. “She moved back to Blue Harbor from the Detroit area. Wanted a sense of community for her child. She takes the ferry over to Evening Island every day. Works at the big hotel over there. A good position, too.” Bonnie gave a little smile.
“And she just volunteered all of this?” Robbie raised an eyebrow. He knew who his mother was referring to. It was Natalie Clark, who also happened to be Steve Conway’s niece, on his wife’s side. A conflict of interest in his opinion, and one that suited him just fine.
“Well, we got to chatting, while she helped with Keira’s hair.” His mother sniffed in defense. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “She’s a pretty woman, and I remember how now. One of the Clark girls. Such pretty blue eyes!”
“Mom.” Robbie’s tone was a warning, and because it wasn’t the first time, he didn’t need to elaborate.
Still, his mother’s eyes popped in mock innocence. “What? I was just stating a fact. She has very pretty eyes.”
Natalie did have pretty eyes. Robbie was not immune to this fact. He also wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she was interested in dating him. And that clearly, his mother would be thrilled by this.
He was happy that the lights were dimming and the curtain was opening. The music started from the corner of the room, where Jenna Conway sat at a baby grand piano.
At the sight of Britt’s cousin (and technically, Natalie’s too, given that Jenna was Steve and Miriam’s daughter) Robbie shifted in his seat, feeling agitated. Steve should have warned him that Britt was coming back after all this time. He supposed he should have expected it, bumping into her sometime, when he’d moved back to town last spring. But word around town was that Britt had only returned once since she’d left town at the age of eighteen, and by then, he’d given up waiting around for her.
Robbie forced his attention on the stage as the music shifted and a parade of little girls in pale purple dresses that sparkled and shone took their spots, after much confusion that had the audience, himself included, laughing under their breath.
Near the middle, on the left, was Keira, her hair perfect, he had to admit, her makeup causing her cheeks to look rosier than usual. She caught his eye and grinned, and just for that moment, for that one perfect moment, his heart was so full that nothing else mattered.
Not that she didn’t have a mother anymore. Not that he’d had to give up his life and come back to the town he’d tried to leave behind, all those years ago. Not to the fact that the girl who’d gotten away, whom he’d tried to forget and thought he had, was back.
*
Britt slowed to a stop as she turned onto Water Street and saw her childhood home come into view at the end of the road. It was the same white, Victorian-style home that she’d lived in every day of her first eighteen years. The same house where she and her sisters would sit on the porch in the summer, drinking lemonade and chatting first about toys and games, and later, clothes and makeup, and eventually, boys. The same house where her mother could be found in the kitchen at the back, baking pies from the fruit they grew on the farm.
The same house where her mother sat them all down and told them the worst news of their lives.
She’d avoided coming back here, into this house, since the day she’d left it. Avoided the reality of knowing that this time, when she went inside, her mother would not be standing at the big kitchen island, peeling apples or rolling out a pie crust. That her apron would be hung on the hook on the back of the pantry door. Or worse, that it might not be there at all.
A honk of a car horn behind her made her jump and she glanced up at her rearview mirror to see her sister Cora waving at her, her smile broad and impatient.
Well. She supposed she was at a full stop in the middle of the road, even if these roads were rarely busy.
Seeing no way around it now, she eased off the brake and pulled into the gravel driveway, careful to leave enough space for her second-youngest sister. She stepped out in the cool, early evening air, the sound of the water lapping at the shore calming her slightly.
Cora jumped out of the car, her auburn hair—the same shade as their father’s—flying behind her in a ponytail, and Britt had barely stepped out of her own vehicle before she was enveloped in a hug. Like always, Cora smelled of cinnamon and cloves, even though it was June. One of the hazards of owning a year-round holiday shop, Britt supposed.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Cora said, blinking quickly.
“Of course I’m here,” Britt said, wondering if her sister picked up on the defensive edge that had crept into her tone. Really, Cora’s comment was fair. More than fair. It was Britt, perhaps, who hadn’t been the fair one, fleeing the nest, leaving her younger sisters to keep living the life that she couldn’t bear to face.
She glanced up at the house and back to Cora. “How’s he doing?”
Cora nodded earnestly. “Good, I think. Maddie’s been visiting him most, and Amelia brings him food every day from the café.”
Britt nodded. Of course, they were all doing their part. She was right to have come.
“And—” Here, Cora began blinking, a little too rapidly for Britt’s liking. “And there’s a caregiver that helps him. That was Amelia’s doing. I think she felt guilty that she couldn’t be here every day, and there’s a great service—”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Britt said. After all, none of them had any medical experience, and it sounded like she was going to be kept busy at the orchard most days. Speaking of… “I didn’t know that Robbie Bradford was back in town.”
“Oh.” Cora didn’t blink at all now. Her blue eyes were as wide as they were in their mother’s favorite baby picture of Cora, taken her first Christmas, when the tree lit up the front bay window. “Oh, you didn’t know?”
Britt gave her a wry look. “Of course I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me.” They talked at least once a month, after all.
“Well, it never came up. I thought that maybe Amelia did. Or Dad…” She bit her lip nervously.
“Nope, no one told me. Not even when they asked me to help out at the orchard. Everyone still failed to mention that Robbie was not only back in town, but employed at the family business!” Her heart was hammering at the mere idea of it. Robbie! At her family’s orchard. He had some nerve.
“We know that you don’t like talking about him,” Cora said gently. With a grin of pure relief, she looked over Britt’s shoulder. “Oh, there’s Amelia now!”
It was just as well, Britt thought. There was no use getting herself worked up over any of this, not when her father was inside, injured, in pain, and in need.
Guilt brought tears to her eyes as she greeted her sister Amelia, who she knew had done the job she couldn’t: taken care of the house, the family, and their father all those years. She’d never complained. But Britt wasn’t oblivious to how hard that must have been.
“Are you sure you and Maddie can get away from the café for the night?” Britt asked. It was a Friday night in June, meaning the place would be flooded with tourists.
“Don’t go putting your management consultant advice on me,” Amelia said, grinning. “I have staff, and I’m entitled to one night off. This reminds me of those Sunday night dinners we used to have, remember?”
A lump built in Britt’s throat, and she managed a nod.
“Besides,” Amelia continued. “It’s not every day that my big sister is back in town.”
Big sister. It had been a long time since she’d heard that, even if she didn’t exactly feel like she’d earned the title.
“Have you seen Dad yet?” Amelia asked, and Britt shook her head. “And Cora told you about the caregiver?” She flicked a glance at Cora, who stayed quiet.
“Thanks for arranging that,” Britt said to her sister. She sighed deeply as she turned back to the porch steps. “I suppose we’d better go in.”
Maddie’s bike was already propped up on the grass—it was the same one she’d had as a teenager. She led the way, her sisters seeming to mutter to each other as they followed her, up the stairs to the front red door where a cheerful wreath was hung on its center, probably from Cora’s shop, judging from the boxwood. She felt the strange need to knock, but knew that was silly, because this was her home; her bedroom was just up the stairs, between Amelia and Cora and across the hall from Maddie. With its view of the lake stretching out before her, it had been her favorite place in the world once.
Of course they had all moved on. Cora now lived above her shop and Amelia had a small house in town, where she rented out the first floor to Maddie, for what Britt knew was a steep discount. It was just her father here now, in this big house that seemed to have a life all of its own at times, when they were all together inside it, singing carols at Christmas, or putting on Sunday night plays or made-up dance routines for their parents, or running out the back door to the waterfront on the first warm day of the year.
The last time she’d been inside this house, they’d all still been tucked in their rooms, their dolls on the shelves. It had been a sad house then that she was leaving. One filled with loss, as much as it felt empty. But now it had a wreath on the door and the windows were cracked for fresh air and her sisters were smiling and happy.
She wondered how she looked to them. If she looked equally happy. Because in her heart of hearts, she wasn’t. She was just as empty and lost as she’d been fourteen years ago, when she thought leaving here was the only hope she had.
She didn’t know what she expected when she walked through the door. Dread, heartache, the reminder that the house was empty, that her mother was no longer in the kitchen, nowhere at all. She assumed her father would be upstairs, in bed, propped up on pillows, perhaps asleep with the aid of painkillers.
Instead she saw her father sitting in the front living room, on his favorite chair, a tray at his side, and a woman—a woman who was most definitely not her mother—holding his hand.
Her expression must have betrayed her shock because the woman immediately smiled, patted his hand, and rose. “Why, this must be Britt!”
Her hair was…big. Blond. Not a natural shade, either. And her blue eyes were eager as she blinked rapidly, approaching Britt faster than she could back up.
Her father turned to get a better look, but before Britt could greet him, she was squeezed against the rather robust bosom of this strange woman who wore entirely too much perfume.
“I’m Candace,” the woman said, when she finally released her. “But everyone
calls me Candy, because I’m so sweet.” She giggled at her own joke. And snorted. And in addition to too much perfume, she also wore far too much eye makeup for this time of day, Britt thought.
Or maybe she was just being unkind. Because this woman was not her mother. And this woman should not be in her house. And she most definitely should not be holding her father’s hand.
She darted a glance at Cora and Amelia, who seemed to gulp. “This is the caregiver we told you about,” Amelia said, a little breathlessly. Cora was frozen at her side.
Britt felt her shoulders relax a bit. Well, in that case…
Now Candy had linked arms with her and was leading her deeper into the living room, where her father was happily munching on a bowl of mixed nuts, a glass of something that most definitely wasn’t water within reach on the television tray.
“Hey, Dad,” she said. Awkwardly, she unhooked herself from Candy and reached down to hug her father, blinking back the confusion as she searched his face. His grey eyes were bright, and downright merry, and his cheeks were full of color. He was the picture of health, aside from the cast on his leg and on his arm, of course. And if she didn’t know better, she might almost say he seemed…happy.
And not just because she was home.
“What have you got there?” She motioned to the amber-colored liquid in his glass.
“Candy poured me a glass of cider.” He looked past her to give Candy a rather familiar smile.
Britt glanced over her shoulder at Candy, who beamed back at Dennis, and then turned her attention back to her father. “Hard cider?”
“You know it’s how I like it,” he replied, and then laughed when she frowned. Deeply.
“Oh, I know everything you like, Denny,” Candy said with a little giggle.
Denny?
Behind her, Britt thought she heard one of her sisters snort, but she was too frozen to react, to give them the death stare they deserved.
Instead, she narrowed her gaze on her father. “Is that a good idea, Dad?”
