Three Sisters
Susan Mallery
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery’s prose has been called “gritty and magical” and “luscious and provocative” (Publishers Weekly).Now she returns to Blackberry Island with the story of three women whose friendship will change their lives forever.After Andi Gordon is jilted at the altar, she makes the most impetuous decision of her life – buying one of the famed Three Sisters Queen Anne houses on Blackberry Island. Now the proud-ish owner of the ugly duckling of the trio, she plans to open her own pediatric office on the first floor, just as soon as her hunky contractor completes the work.Andi’s new future may be coming together, but the truth is she’s just as badly in need of a major renovation as her house. When Deanna Phillips confronts her husband about a suspected affair, she opens up a Pandora’s Box of unhappiness. And he claims that she is the problem. The terrible thing is, he’s right. In her quest to be the perfect woman, she’s lost herself, and she’s in danger of losing her entire family if things don’t change.Next door, artist Boston King thought she and her college sweetheart would be married forever. Their passion for one other has always seemed indestructible. But after tragedy tears them apart, she’s not so sure. Now it’s time for them to move forward, with or without one another.Thrown together by fate and geography, and bound by the strongest of friendships, these three women will discover what they’re really made of: laughter, tears, love and all.
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery’s prose has been called “gritty and magical” and “luscious and provocative” (Publishers Weekly). Now she returns to Blackberry Island with the story of three women whose friendship will change their lives forever.
After Andi Gordon is jilted at the altar, she makes the most impetuous decision of her life—buying one of the famed Three Sisters Queen Anne houses on Blackberry Island. Now the proud-ish owner of the ugly duckling of the trio, she plans to open her own pediatric office on the first floor, just as soon as her hunky contractor completes the work. Andi’s new future may be coming together, but the truth is she’s just as badly in need of a major renovation as her house.
When Deanna Phillips confronts her husband about a suspected affair, she opens up a Pandora’s Box of unhappiness. And he claims that she is the problem. The terrible thing is, he’s right. In her quest to be the perfect woman, she’s lost herself, and she’s in danger of losing her entire family if things don’t change.
Next door, artist Boston King thought she and her college sweetheart would be married forever. Their passion for one other has always seemed indestructible. But after tragedy tears them apart, she’s not so sure. Now it’s time for them to move forward, with or without one another.
Thrown together by fate and geography, and bound by the strongest of friendships, these three women will discover what they’re really made of: laughter, tears, love and all.
Praise for the novels of
“Barefoot Season is a well-written story of healing, letting go,
and making room in your heart for hope.”
—USA TODAY
“This poignant tale of family dynamics,
the jarring impact of change, and
eventual acceptance and healing is sure to
please Mallery’s many devoted fans.”
—Bookliston Already Home
“Gritty and magical, angst-ridden and sweet.”
—Publishers Weekly on Barefoot Season
“An adorable, outspoken heroine and an intense hero…
set the sparks flying in Mallery’s latest lively,
comic, and touching family-centered story.”
—Library Journal on Only Yours
“Mallery...excels at creating varied, well-developed characters
and an emotion-packed story gently infused with
her trademark wit and humor.”
—Bookliston Only Mine
“Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative.”
—Publishers Weekly
Three Sisters
Susan Mallery
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One (#u54197582-3efe-55e8-8a36-5924db6a418d)
Chapter Two (#u92e0c81c-09ed-540e-a805-7b6d6a05330f)
Chapter Three (#u1a3ef885-dff7-50f2-9bd5-09a7ad1c6079)
Chapter Four (#ucf8e9e9a-462c-555f-aa77-a8387c64888b)
Chapter Five (#ue53e2132-4430-5e10-a319-be03d9e879fc)
Chapter Six (#u7a2e68e8-e7c9-5fd7-83fe-88588e110a94)
Chapter Seven (#u89f58b38-0a65-5e3e-8510-799873620b69)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Right (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Readers’ Discussion Guide (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
BEING LEFT AT the altar is not for sissies. Aside from the humiliation and hurt, there are actual logistics to worry about. Odds are if a guy is willing to leave you standing alone in front of three hundred of your closest friends and relatives, not to mention both your mothers, he isn’t going to sweat the little stuff like returning the gifts and paying the caterer. Which explained why three months after going through that exact experience, Andi Gordon was putting her life savings into a house she’d only seen twice, in a town she’d only visited for seventy-two hours.
Go big or go home. Andi had decided to do both.
After signing the final paperwork and picking up the keys, she drove up the hill to the highest point on Blackberry Island and stared at the house she’d just bought. It was known as one of the “Three Sisters.” Three beautiful, Queen Anne–style homes built around the turn of the last century. According to the Realtor, the house on the left had been restored perfectly. The ice-cream colors reflected the style and fashion of the year it was built. Even its garden was more traditionally English than casual Pacific Northwest. A girl’s bike leaned against the porch, looking modern and out of place.
The house on the right was also restored, but with less period detail. The slate-gray trim framed stained-glass windows and there was a sculpture of a bird taking flight in the front yard.
The house in the middle still had a For Sale sign planted in the unkempt grass. While like the others in style and size, the house she’d bought had little else in common with its neighbors. From the roof, with missing shingles, to the peeling paint and broken-out windows, the house was a testament to neglect and indifference. If the building hadn’t been historic, it would have been torn down years ago.
Andi had seen the seller’s disclosure—listing all the problems with the house. It was pages long, listing every major issue, from an electrical upgrade done twenty years before to lousy and nonfunctioning plumbing. The building inspector Andi had hired to look over the place had given up halfway through and returned her money. Then her agent had tried to show her a lovely condo overlooking the marina.
Andi had refused. She’d known the second she saw the old place that it was everything she’d been looking for. The house had once been full of promise. Time and circumstance had reduced it to its present condition—unloved and abandoned. She didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand she saw herself in the house. She understood the pitfalls of believing if she fixed the house, she would also be fixing herself. But knowing and doing, or in this case not doing, weren’t the same thing. Her head might be busy pointing out this was a mistake of mammoth proportions, but her heart had already fallen in love.
Given her recent, very public broken engagement, falling for a house seemed a whole lot safer than falling for a man. After all, if the house abandoned her at the altar, she could simply burn it down.
Now parked in front of the three-story disaster, she smiled. “I’m here,” she whispered, offering the promise to both herself and the house. “I’ll make you whole again.”
The past three months had been a nightmare of logistics and recriminations. Buying one of the “Three Sisters” had given her something else to think about. Emailing documents for her loan was a lot more fun than explaining to her second cousin that yes, after dating for over ten years, Matt really had left her at the altar. He had actually said their decision to marry had seemed sudden and that he’d needed more time. And yes, he had run off to Las Vegas two weeks later, marrying his receptionist. She refused to think about the conversations she’d had on the subject with her mother.
But knowing that she would soon be leaving Seattle for Blackberry Island had kept her going. She’d focused on her escape. Then she’d packed up her place in the city and headed north.
Andi squeezed the keys her real estate agent had handed her, feeling the metal dig into her skin. The pain brought her back to the present, to this moment where there were only possibilities.
She got out of her car and stared at the broken house. But instead of boarded windows and a sagging porch, she saw what it would be. New. Shiny. A home people would admire. Not a castoff. Because when the house was restored, Andi could call her mother and talk about that. It would be a far better conversation than listening to the woman list everything Andi had messed up in her life. Like not allowing Matt to guide her into changing herself and how she’d foolishly let a good man get away.
Andi turned to admire the view. On a clear day the water of Puget Sound sparkled. Granted, clear days were relatively rare in this part of the country, but Andi was okay with that. She liked the rain. The gray, drizzly sky, the squish of her boots against the sidewalk. All that gloom made her appreciate the sunny days.
She turned west, looking out over the sound. The houses had a perfect view. They’d originally been built by sea captains, oriented to watch the ships sail in. In the late 1800s, seafaring had still been important to the area, not yet overtaken by the lure of logging.
This was right, she thought happily. She belonged here. Or she would belong, with time. If the renovations started to get to her, she would simply look at her view. The dance of the water, the peninsula beyond were far different from the high-rises of downtown Seattle. The city might only be a couple of hours away by car, but it was another planet when compared to the small town that was Blackberry Island.
“Hello! Are you the one who bought the house?”
Andi turned and saw a woman walking toward her. She was of average height, with long dark red hair that flowed halfway down her back. She wore jeans and clogs, with an ivory cable-knit sweater that just grazed her hips. Her face was more interesting than pretty, Andi thought as she approached. High cheekbones and large green eyes. Her pale skin was probably a result of both genetics and a complete lack of sun exposure since the previous September.
“Hi. Yes, I am.”
The woman smiled. “Finally. That poor place. It’s been so lonely. Oh, I’m Boston. Boston King.” She pointed to the house with the sculpture of the bird on the lawn. “I live there.”
“Andi Gordon.”
They shook hands. Weak sunlight broke through the clouds and highlighted what looked like a dark purple streak in Boston’s hair.
Andi fingered her own dark hair and wondered if she should do something as dramatic. The most she’d ever managed was a trim.
“Any relation to Zeke King?” Andi asked. “He’s the contractor I’ve been emailing about the house.”
Boston’s expression brightened. “My husband. He and his brother own a local firm here on the island. He’d mentioned he’d been in touch with the new owner.” She tilted her head. “But he didn’t say anything about you, and I’m dying to know the details. Can you spare a few minutes? I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
Andi thought about the cleaning supplies in the back of her SUV. With the moving van arriving in the morning, she had plenty to do to get the place ready. But there were only three houses on the small cul-de-sac, and getting to know one of her neighbors seemed just as important.
“I’d love a cup of coffee,” she said.
Boston led the way across the ragged grass to her own yard, then up the steps to the front door. Andi noticed the boards that made up the porch floor had been painted dark blue, and there were stars and planets scattered around. The front door was dark wood with stained-glass panels.
The eclectic mix of traditional décor and whimsy continued in the foyer. A Shaker-style bench stood by a coatrack. On the wall was a mirror framed by silver squirrels and birds. The living room to the left had comfortable sofas and chairs, but there was a huge painting of a naked fairy over the fireplace.
Boston led the way down a narrow hallway, painted bloodred, and into a bright, open kitchen. There were cobalt-blue-painted cabinets, sleek, stainless appliances and a gray-and-blue marble countertop. The smell of coffee mingled with fragrant cinnamon and apples.
“Have a seat,” Boston said, pointing at stools pulled up against the breakfast bar. “I just heated a couple of scones. I have cinnamon apple butter I made last fall.”
Andi thought of the protein bar and cup of coffee that had been her breakfast and heard her stomach growl. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
She took the offered seat. Boston opened the oven and removed a cookie sheet with two large scones on it. The apple butter was in a glass jar. Boston put the scones on a plate and passed one over, then poured coffee.
“Just black for me,” Andi told her.
“Ah, a true coffee drinker. I have to conceal my caffeine in hazelnut and vanilla.”
She got the flavored creamer from the refrigerator.
Andi glanced around. There was a big window over the sink and another in the corner eating area. A large pantry took up most of one wall. While she could see the original molding and beadboard by the back door, the rest of the kitchen had been updated.
“I love your space,” Andi said. “I’m not sure my kitchen has seen so much as a coat of paint in the last sixty years.”
Boston collected two knives and handed her one, then cut open her scone and smoothed on apple butter. As she worked, several silver charm bracelets clinked together. “We saw your place at the open house. The kitchen was very 1950s.”
“I don’t mind the retro look,” Andi admitted. “But nothing works. I have a thing about turning on a faucet and having hot water come out. And I’d like a refrigerator that keeps food cold.”
Boston grinned. “So you’re a demanding sort.”
“Apparently.”
“I know Zeke’s been drawing up plans. I haven’t seen all of them, but he and his brother do beautiful work.”
Andi looked at her kitchen. “Did he update your house?”
“About six years ago.” Boston picked up her coffee. “Where are you moving from?”
The island was small enough that Andi wasn’t surprised Boston assumed she was from somewhere else. “Seattle.”
“Big city, huh? This is going to be a change.”
“I’m ready for a change.”
“Do you have a family?”
Andi knew she didn’t mean parents and siblings. “No.”
Boston’s expression registered surprise. “That’s a big house.”
“I’m a doctor. A pediatrician. I want to use the main level for my practice and live upstairs.”
Boston’s shoulders seemed to tighten. “Oh, that’s clever. You’ll avoid the hassle of commuting.” She glanced out the window over the sink toward Andi’s house. “There’s plenty of space for parking and I can see how the conversion wouldn’t be difficult.”
“The biggest modification will be moving the kitchen upstairs. I was going to have to gut it anyway, though, so it won’t add much more to the bill.” She reached for her scone. “How long have you lived on the island?”
“I grew up here,” Boston told her. “In this house, actually. I’ve never lived anywhere else. When Zeke and I started dating, I warned him I came with about three thousand square feet of baggage.” Her smile faded a little. “He said he liked that about me.”
Andi chewed the vanilla-flavored scone, enjoying the tart apple and cinnamon spread, then swallowed. “Do you work outside the home?”
Boston shook her head. “I’m an artist. Mostly textiles, although lately...” Her voice trailed off and something dark entered her eyes. “I sometimes do portraits. I’m responsible for most of the strange things you see around here.”
“I love the porch.”
“Do you? Deanna hates it.” Boston wrinkled her nose. “She would never say anything, of course, but I hear her sighing every time she steps on it.”
“Deanna?”
“Your other neighbor.”
“Her house is beautiful.”
“Isn’t it? You should see the inside. I’m sure she’ll invite you over. The front rooms are furnished true to the time period. The historical societies love her.” Boston glanced out the window again. “She has five daughters. Oh, customers for you.” She frowned. “Or is it clients?”
“Patients.”
Boston nodded. “Right. The girls are very sweet.” She shrugged. “And that’s the neighborhood. Just the three of us. I’m so happy someone is going to be living in the middle house. It’s been empty for years. A vacant house can be sad.”
Although nothing about Boston’s tone had changed, Andi felt a shift in the other woman’s energy. Even as she told herself she was being what her mother would call “weird beyond what we consider normal,” she couldn’t shake the feeling that her neighbor wanted her gone.
She quickly finished the rest of her scone, then smiled. “You’ve been more than kind. I really appreciate the jolt of caffeine and the snack. But I have so much I have to do.”
“Moving. I’ve heard it’s tough. I can’t imagine living anywhere but here. I hope you’re happy here on our little street.”
“I’m sure I will be.” Andi rose. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Boston told her, walking her to the front door. “Please stop by if you need anything. That includes a shower. We have a guest bath, you know, in case the water gets turned off.”
“That’s very nice of you, but if the water gets turned off, I’m moving to a hotel.”
“I like your style.”
Andi waved and stepped out on the porch. Once the front door closed behind her, she paused for a second, looking at her house from her neighbor’s perspective. There were several cracked windows on this side, and part of the siding was hanging down, loose and peeling. The yard was overgrown.
“Talk about ugly,” she murmured, returning to her car.
Not to worry, she told herself. She’d gone over the plans for the remodeling and would be meeting with Zeke first thing Saturday to finalize their contract. Then work would begin.
In the meantime, she had to get ready for the movers who would arrive in the morning. She’d identified an upstairs bedroom where she would store the majority of her furniture. While the construction was going on, she would live in two small attic bedrooms. They were ugly, but serviceable. The bigger of the two would serve as a living room and pseudo kitchen. If she couldn’t heat it in a toaster oven or microwave, she wasn’t going to cook it.
The tiny attic bathroom had a shower obviously built for those who didn’t hit the five-foot mark and fixtures dating back to the 1940s, but everything worked. Zeke had promised to rig up a hot water heater right away.
She had what she would need to survive the three months of construction. Although she’d told Zeke she wanted everything done by early July, in truth she was planning to launch her practice September first, giving her a nice buffer. She’d seen enough shows on HGTV to know there were often problems and time delays in remodelings.
Andi collected the supplies from the back of her SUV. She needed to clean the room that she would be using for furniture storage, then tackle the bathroom she’d claimed. After that, she was going to reward herself with a pulled-pork sandwich from Arnie’s. Her real estate agent had promised the food was great.
Andi carefully walked up the front stairs. Two of the eight steps were loose. She put her key in the front door and jiggled to make the lock turn. Then she stepped into the foyer.
Unlike in Boston’s place, there was no eclectic array of charming furniture, no window coverings and nothing that looked remotely livable. The smell of decay and dirt mingled with the stench of former rodent inhabitants. Wallpaper hung off water-stained walls, and plywood covered several of the living room windows.
Andi set down her bucket filled with cleaning products and a bag full of rags and paper towels, then put her arms straight out and spun in a circle. Anticipation had her giggling as she faced the three-dimensional disaster that was her new home.
“You are going to be so happy,” she whispered. “I’m going to make you sparkle.” She grinned. “Well, me and a construction crew. You’ll see. When it’s all done, we’ll both be better.”
By the time the house was finished, she would be settled here on the island. Her ex-fiancé would be little more than a cautionary tale and she would have the beginnings of a thriving practice. She would no longer be the family screwup or the woman who had been stupid enough to give ten years of her life to a man who had tried to change her before dumping her and marrying someone else two weeks later. She wouldn’t have to worry about not being good enough.
“We won’t be as perfect as that house on the left, or as artistic as the one on the other side, but we’ll be just right. You’ll see.”
The words were like a promise. And she’d always been good about keeping her promises.
Chapter Two
DEANNA PHILLIPS STARED at the photo. The girl was pretty—maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, with dark hair. It was impossible to see her eye color, because of the pose. The young woman had her arms thrown around a man, her lips pressed to his cheek. He was facing the camera, and the girl was facing him.
The snapshot had caught a happy moment. The man was smiling, the young woman leaned toward him, her knee bent, one foot raised. Everything about the picture should have been charming. Aspirational, even. Except for the fact that the man in question was Deanna’s husband.
She stood in the bedroom, listening to the sound of the shower. It was barely after six, but Colin had been up since five. First he went for a run; then he ate breakfast; then he showered. He would be out the door by six-thirty. From there he went to the office and then on the road. Colin traveled for work, and she wouldn’t see him again until the end of the week.
A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. He’d cheated. He’d been stupid enough to keep a picture on his phone. He’d cheated. Who else had there been? How many others? He’d cheated. Her stomach pitched and rolled like a ship in a storm. Had she eaten anything, she would have vomited. As it was, she shivered, her skin breaking out in goose bumps, her legs trembling.
“Get it together,” she whispered. She didn’t have much time. In less than a half hour, she had to get the girls up and ready for school. She was expected at the twins’ classroom that morning. She had to go to work after that. There were a dozen details, a thousand chores and jobs and responsibilities. None of that stopped because Colin had betrayed her in the worst way possible.
Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. Tears meant weakness. Still clutching the cell phone, she debated what to do. Confront him? It was the logical decision. She should say something. Only she didn’t know what. She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t—
The shower went silent as Colin turned off the water. Deanna shivered, then quietly set the phone back on the dresser, next to her husband’s wallet and car keys. She’d only picked it up to check the photos from the last softball game. She’d wanted a couple of pictures to update the family’s Facebook page. What she’d found instead was betrayal.
She needed time, she realized. Time to sort out what was happening. What it all meant. Her next step. Was there a next step?
She grabbed her robe and pulled it on, then hurried downstairs to the study. Once there, she turned on her computer. She noticed her fingers trembled as she pushed the button on her laptop. She sat in the big leather chair and wrapped her arms around herself. Her feet were cold, but she wasn’t going to go back to the bedroom for her slippers. She couldn’t. She was going to fly apart, she thought, her teeth chattering. If she wasn’t careful she would explode into a million pieces.
The computer hummed and chirped as it booted. At last she saw the wallpaper picture come into focus. It showed a perfect family—father, mother, daughters. All blond, attractive, happy. They were on the beach, all wearing ivory sweaters and jeans, a jumble of arms and legs, the twins ducking, the older girls behind them. Colin had his arms around her, Deanna thought. They were laughing. Happy.
What the hell had happened?
“Are you all right?”
She glanced up and saw her husband standing in the doorway. He wore a suit, the dark blue one she had picked out for him. The man had hideous taste in clothing. She didn’t love the tie, but so what? Did that really matter today?
She studied him, wondering how other women saw him. He was handsome, she acknowledged. Tall, with broad shoulders and blue eyes. He kept himself fit. She’d taken pride in that, in having a husband who still looked great in jeans and a T-shirt. Unlike a lot of men his age, Colin had avoided a beer belly. He would turn forty next year. Was that what the other woman was about? Dealing with middle age?
“Deanna?”
She realized he was staring at her. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t sure she would be able to speak, but somehow managed the words.
He continued watching her, as if expecting more. She licked her lips, unsure what to say. Time, she thought desperately. She really needed time.
She tucked her hands under the desk so he wouldn’t know she was shaking.
“My stomach’s bothering me a little this morning. Must have been something I ate.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
She wanted to scream at him that of course she wasn’t going to be all right. How could he even ask? He’d taken everything they’d had together and destroyed it. Destroyed her. Everything she’d worked for, everything she wanted was gone. She was going to have to leave him. Become one of those desperate single mothers. Dear God, she had five children. Five daughters. She couldn’t manage that on her own.
“I’m okay,” she told him, anything to get him to leave. She had to have time to think, to breathe, to understand. She had to have a moment to stop the bleeding.
“I’ll be back on Thursday,” he said. “I’m going to be in Portland.”
He always told her stuff like that. Details. She never listened. She and the girls had their routine. They were used to Colin being gone during the week.
Now he might be gone forever, she realized. Then what? She worked part-time in a craft store. She taught quilting classes and scrapbooking. Her salary paid for things like vacations and dinner out. She couldn’t support a tank of fish, let alone five girls, on what she made.
Panic curled through her, twisting around her heart until she thought she would die right there. She forced herself to keep staring at her husband, desperate to remember what normal was.
“I hope it’s warm,” she said.
“What?”
“In Oregon. I hope the weather’s good.”
He frowned. “Deanna, are you sure you’re all right?”
She knew trying to smile would be a disaster. “It’s just my tummy. I think I’d better make a run to the bathroom. Drive safe.”
She rose. Fortunately, he stepped back as she got close and she was able to slip by him without brushing against him. She hurried up the stairs and ran into the bathroom. Once there she clutched the marble vanity and closed her eyes against the pale, stunned face she saw in the mirror.
* * *
“Mom, you know I hate this bread. Why do you keep making it?”
Deanna didn’t bother looking up. She simply placed the sandwich she’d made the night before into the lunch cooler. Baby carrots were next, then the apple and the cookies. Flaxseed, she thought as she picked up the recyclable container filled with small cookies. They were made with flaxseed. Not the girls’ favorite, but healthy.
“Mom!” Madison stood with her hands on her hips. At twelve she’d already mastered a contemptuous glare that could shrivel the sturdiest of souls.
Deanna recognized the look and knew the cause, mostly because she’d felt exactly the same way about her mother, all those years ago. The only difference was Deanna’s mother had been a nightmare, while Deanna couldn’t figure out what she’d done to make her oldest daughter loathe her so.
“Madison, I can’t deal with this today. Please. Just take the sandwich.”
Her daughter continued to glare at her, then stomped off muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “You’re such a bitch.” But Deanna couldn’t be sure, and this morning that was a battle she couldn’t take on.
By eight, all five girls were gone. The kitchen was the usual disaster, with bowls in the sink, plates on the breakfast bar and open cereal boxes on the counter. Lucy had left her lunch box by the refrigerator, which meant another stop for Deanna later. And Madison’s coat still hung over the bar-height chair.
Lucy’s absentmindedness wasn’t anything new and certainly not personal, but the same couldn’t be said for Madison and the jacket. Her oldest had hated the waterproof red coat forty-eight hours after insisting it was perfect and that she had to have it. Since that late September shopping trip, she and Madison had battled about the garment, with her daughter insisting a new one be purchased. Deanna had refused.
Sometime in October, Colin had said they should get her a new coat—that it wasn’t worth the fight. Lucy liked the red one and would probably be in it by the fall. If Madison wore it all year, it would be too battered to be passed down.
Just one more time where Colin hadn’t supported her, Deanna thought bitterly. One more example of her husband siding against her with the girls.
Deanna crossed to the sink and turned on the water. She waited until it was the right temperature, then carefully pumped the soap three times and began to wash her hands. Over and around, again and again. The familiar feel of warm water and slick soap comforted her. She knew she couldn’t let herself continue for too long. That if she wasn’t careful, she would go too far. Because of that, long before she was ready, she rinsed, then opened the drawer by the sink and pulled out one of her cotton towels and dried her hands.
She walked out of the kitchen without looking back. She would deal with the mess later. But instead of climbing to the second story and the master bedroom, she sank onto the bottom stair and dropped her head into her hands. Anger blended with fear and the sharp taste of humiliation. She’d done her best to be nothing like her mother, yet some lessons couldn’t be unlearned. The familiar question of “What will the neighbors think?” lodged in her brain and refused to budge.
Everyone would talk. Everyone would wonder how long the affair had been going on. Everyone would assume he’d been cheating for years. After all, Colin’s job was on the road. While she would get the sympathy, the solicitous attention of their friends, the other wives would take a step back. They wouldn’t want a divorced woman hanging around. The husbands would look at her and wonder what she’d done to make Colin stray. Then they would ask her husband for the wheres and hows, living vicariously through his adventures.
Deanna longed to crawl back in bed and restart the morning. If only she hadn’t gone looking for that picture, she thought. Then she wouldn’t have to know. But time could not be turned back, and she had to deal with the reality of Colin’s treachery.
She stared down at the wedding ring set on her left hand. The large center stone glinted, even in the dim light. She was so careful to get the rings cleaned every three months, have the prongs checked to make sure nothing was loose. She’d been so careful about so many things. She’d been a fool.
Deanna tugged the ring off her finger and threw it across the hallway. It bounced against the wall and rolled to the center of the polished hardwood. Then she covered her face with her hands and gave in to tears.
* * *
Boston King arranged the tulips on the small hand-painted table she’d brought in from the spare bedroom. The top of the table was white, the legs a pale green. Years ago, she’d stenciled tulips around the sides, a perfect echo of the flowers she now moved around, trying to find the right air of casual disarray.
She positioned a long dark green leaf, shifted a petal, moved the yellow tulip closer to the pink one. When she was pleased with what she’d done, she picked up the whole table and carried it so that it sat in a shaft of bright sunlight. Then she settled on her stool, picked up her pad and began to sketch.
She moved quickly, confidently. Her mind cleared as she focused on shapes, contrasts and lines, no longer seeing an object, but instead the parts. Pieces of the whole, she thought with a smile. She remembered one of her teachers who would remind her, “We view the world on a molecular level. The building blocks, not the end results.”
The first of the flowers grew on the page. Impulsively, she reached for a piece of chalk, thinking she could capture the purity of the yellow petal. As she guided it to the paper, her charm bracelet provided a familiar melody. Her eyes drifted closed, then open again.
Gray. She’d picked the gray, not the yellow. The darker of her grays, nearly black, but not quite. The piece was stubby and worn, but sharp. She always kept it sharp. Then her hand was moving again, faster than before, the lines so comfortable, her movements almost habitual.
What had been a flower became something much more beautiful, much more precious. A few more strokes and she was staring at the face of an infant. Liam, she thought, running her hand across the picture, smudging and softening the defined lines until they were as sleepy as the boy.
She drew in a few details of background, then studied the result. Yes, she’d captured him, the curve of his cheek, the promise of love in his half-closed eyes. Her best boy.
She put her initials and the date in the bottom right-hand corner of the paper, then tore it from the pad and set it on top of the others already there. After picking up her mug of white tea, she walked to the window and stared out at the rear garden.
Spruce trees lined the edge of the property. In front of them, Pacific wax myrtle swayed in the afternoon breeze. They’d all survived last winter’s big windstorm. The last of her tulips danced, their promise of spring already met. Over the next week or so, she would plant the rest of her garden. She enjoyed the fresh vegetables, although she didn’t share her neighbor Deanna’s rabid obsession with growing her own food whenever possible.
She was aware of the silence, feeling rather than hearing the steady beating of her own heart. That’s what she experienced these days. Silence. Not quiet. Quiet had a restful quality. In quiet, she could find peace. In silence, there was only an absence of sound.
She turned and walked to the front of the house. The big moving van in Andi’s driveway rumbled to life. It had been there since early morning. Zeke had told her about Andi’s plans to store most of her furniture in an upstairs bedroom and live in the attic during the remodeling. Boston didn’t envy the movers the work of hauling heavy furniture up the narrow stairs.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, her husband drove his battered red pickup around the retreating moving truck and up toward their house. She watched him park, then get out and walk toward the side entrance.
He moved as easily and gracefully as he had the first time she’d seen him. She’d been all of fifteen—a new sophomore at the mainland high school. It had been the first week of classes and she’d clung to her friends like a motherless monkey abandoned in the jungle. He’d been a senior. Handsome. Sexy. On the football team. Despite the heat of the September afternoon, he’d proudly worn his letterman jacket.
She’d taken one look at him and had fallen deeply in love. She’d known in that instant that he was the one. He liked to tease that it had taken him longer. That it was only after he’d been talking to her for ten minutes that he’d accepted his fate.
They’d been together ever since. Married when she was twenty and he was twenty-two. Their love had never wavered and they’d been so happy together that they’d put off starting a family. She had her career to establish, and he’d been busy with his business. There had been the world to see. Their lives had been perfect.
“Hey, babe,” Zeke called as he walked in the kitchen door. “Our neighbor moved in.”
“I saw.”
He came out of the kitchen and walked toward her, his brown eyes affectionate, as always, but now also wary. Because in the past six months, they’d seemed to stumble more than they got it right.
It all came down to blame, she thought, tightening her hold on her mug of tea. In their heads they knew neither was at fault, but in their hearts... Well, she couldn’t speak to his heart, but hers had turned into a void. Lately she’d started to wonder if it was possible for love to live in a black hole.
“Her remodeling is going to have a serious effect on our bottom line this year,” Zeke said. “You be friendly, you hear?”
She smiled. “I’m always friendly.”
“I’m just saying you might want to put off talking about the power that flows from the earth until we cash the checks.”
Boston rolled her eyes. “I only celebrated the summer solstice once and that was just to be nice to my friend from the art class I was teaching.”
“You can be plenty weird without blaming other people.”
“Redneck.”
“Flake.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Let me go get my stuff.”
He walked back outside to his truck. Boston glanced at the clock and saw it was too early to start dinner. With the weather so nice, she was thinking they would just barbecue burgers. Their first of the season. Zeke had pulled out the high-tech stainless monstrosity the previous weekend and was itching to fire it up.
She could make a salad, she thought. Maybe invite Andi over. She had to be exhausted after a hard day of moving, and Boston knew there wasn’t anything remotely close to a working kitchen in her house.
Zeke returned, his arms full of plans and contracts. He had his lunch box in one hand and a small box in another.
She smiled. “Is that for me?”
“I don’t know. I bought it for the most beautiful girl in the world. Is that you?”
Whatever else might go wrong, Zeke always tried, she thought. He was a thoughtful guy, regularly bringing her little presents.
The gifts themselves weren’t expensive. A new paintbrush, a single flower, an antique pin for her hair. For all the years they’d been married, he’d always gone out of his way to let her know he was thinking of her. That she was important to him. It was part of the glue that held their marriage together.
She reached for the box, but he turned, keeping it out of reach. “Not so fast, young lady.”
He put his paperwork down, then slowly held out the box. She took it, letting the anticipation build.
“Diamonds?” she asked, knowing they weren’t something either of them would be interested in.
“Darn it. Did you want diamonds? Because it’s a new truck.”
Despite the tease, something in his voice sounded different. When she looked up, she saw the hesitation in his eyes. Boston opened the box slowly. Her gaze settled on the tiny pink booties.
They had been knit in the finest gauge, with a little crocheted lace trim and delicate ties. Lovely and girly. Staring at them made her chest tighten. She couldn’t breathe. Her body went cold and the box with the booties slipped from her grasp.
“How could you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Pain shot through her, slicing and cleaving. She turned away, determined to keep the monster that was her pain firmly in its cage.
Zeke grabbed her arm. “Boston, don’t block me out. Don’t turn way. Give me something, hon. We have to talk about it. It’s been six months. We could still have a family. Another baby.”
She jerked her arm free and glared at him. “Our son died.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You’re not acting like it. You say six months like it’s a lifetime. Well, it’s not. It’s nothing. I will never get over him, you hear me? Never.”
She watched the affection fade from her husband’s eyes as something much darker took its place. “You keep doing this,” he told her. “Shutting me out. We have to move on.”
“You move on,” she told him, the familiar numbness settling over her. “I’m staying right where I am.”
Resignation settled into the lines around his mouth. “Like always,” he said. “Fine. You want more of the same, you can have it. I’m leaving. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
He hesitated before turning, as if waiting for her to ask him not to go. She pressed her lips tightly together, wanting, no, needing to be alone. He was off to get drunk and she was fine with that. She got lost in her painting and he got lost in his bottle. It was how they got through the pain.
He shook his head and stalked out. A few seconds later she heard his truck start up.
When the sound of the engine had faded away, she walked back to her studio. As she stepped inside, she didn’t see the light spilling in through tall windows, the hand-built shelves, carefully constructed to her specifications, the easels and empty canvases awaiting their destiny. Instead her gaze fell on the pictures of Liam. Her son.
Tiny sketches and life-size portraits. Drawings and watercolors. She’d used every material, every medium. She had created hundreds of pictures, maybe thousands. Since they’d buried him, he was all she could draw. All she wanted to create.
Now, her heart still pounding, her body still cold, she picked up a sketchpad and a pencil. Then she settled onto her favorite stool and began to draw.
Chapter Three
DEANNA SAT IN her car in the parking lot. Spring had come to the Pacific Northwest. New leaves reflected sunlight and buds covered the bushes. The municipal park had soft green grass that had yet to be trampled by the children who would soon come to play.
She reached for her take-out coffee, only to realize she was shaking too hard to hold it, let alone guide it to her mouth. She’d spent the past two days shaking. Shaking and not eating and trying to figure out how to salvage the shattered remains of her once perfect life. She’d alternated between blaming herself and wanting to kill Colin. She’d cried, screamed and when the children were around, pretended absolutely nothing was wrong. Then she’d come up with a plan.
On the passenger seat next to her were several sheets of paper. Notes she’d made, phone numbers and statistics. She had all the girls’ paperwork and copies of her and Colin’s joint bank statements.
Her options were limited. The bottom line was, she didn’t want a divorce. Being married was part of her identity, part of what she’d always wanted, and Colin wasn’t going to take that from her, too. So she was going to explain that while she might forgive, she wasn’t planning on forgetting. That he would have some serious work to do if he planned to win her back.
She had several weapons she was willing to use. The girls, of course. His standing in the community. Colin loved the island, but if he didn’t come around, he would find himself ostracized.
In the back of her mind, a voice whispered that maybe he didn’t want to give up the other woman. Maybe he wasn’t interested in his family anymore. And by family, she knew the voice meant her because no one could doubt Colin’s love for his girls.
She ignored the voice, knowing it came from a weaker part of herself. Strength was required, and she would be strong. She knew how. She’d survived so much worse than this.
She drew in a breath and steadied herself enough to pick up her coffee and take a sip. Once Colin agreed to end the affair, she was going to insist on couple’s therapy. She would casually mention that she had the names of several good lawyers. Lawyers who weren’t sure a straying father deserved much time with their children.
The house wasn’t an issue, thank God. It was in her name and would be until the day she died. A few times over the years, she’d thought about putting his name on the deed, but never had done it. Now she was grateful.
She glanced at her watch. About an hour ago, when she’d known he was close to home, she’d sent Colin a text saying that she knew about the other woman and telling him to meet her at the park. This conversation needed to be conducted in private, and with five girls in the house, privacy was rare. Madison was with a friend, and Deanna had hired a sitter to stay with the other four.
Colin’s battered sedan pulled next to her SUV. Deanna put down the coffee and reached for the folders. As her fingers closed around the door handle, anger flooded her. Cold, thick fury that made her want to lash out, to cut and wound. How dare he? She’d spent her life in service to her family and this was what he did to her?
She sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself. She had to keep her mind clear. She had to be able to think. She had to stay in control.
Colin got out of his car and looked at her across the roof. He was still in his blue suit, although he’d changed his shirt and tie. Buoyed by the righteousness of her position, she opened her door.
“Hello, Deanna.”
Hello? Not “I’m sorry”? She pressed her lips together and nodded, then led the way to a bench on the grass. She sat on the side with a view of the sound. It would give her something to stare at as he groveled.
He sat across from her. His blue gaze settled on her face. She waited, prepared for the explanation, the apologies. She hoped to see a little fear in his eyes. No, she thought grimly. A lot of fear.
But it wasn’t there. If anything, he looked as he always did. Tired from his trip, of course. If she had to pick a second emotion, it would be resignation. She would almost say he looked determined, but that didn’t make sense.
He nodded at the folders she held. “You came prepared.”
“I did.”
He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m not having an affair. I’ve never had an affair.”
“I saw the picture.”
“You saw a picture.”
She drew back and squared her shoulders. “If you’re going to play word games, we’re not having this conversation.”
“I’m saying you saw a picture of me with a coworker. The whole office was celebrating. Val had just gotten engaged. A few weeks ago, her boyfriend was acting strange. She thought he was trying to end things, but I told her to hang in there. It turns out he was preparing a romantic weekend away so he could propose. The picture is her thanking me.”
“With a kiss?”
“On the cheek, Deanna. She’s a kid. I’m not cheating.”
She saw the truth in his eyes. Colin had never been much of a liar. A good quality in a husband, she thought, as relief replaced fear. The folders she held suddenly felt heavy and obvious.
“You could have said something,” she murmured, aware she owed him an apology.
“So could you.” He straightened and studied her. “I’m sorry you think I’m the kind of man who would cheat on you.”
“I didn’t know what else it could be,” she admitted, uncomfortable being in the wrong. “Your work life is separate from us. You were kissing another woman and you’re gone all the time.”
“Your misinterpretation isn’t my responsibility,” he told her.
“I know.”
She was an idiot, she thought. She had to explain and admit fault. It’s how these things went. “I just...” The words stuck in her throat.
“No,” Colin said suddenly when she didn’t continue. He stared at her. “No, that’s not good enough.”
“What?”
“You not apologizing. Again.”
She stiffened. “Colin!”
“I’m sick of it. Of you, of us. I’m not happy with our marriage. I haven’t been for a long time.”
She blinked, the words hitting her directly in the chest. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.
His expression tightened. “I’m tired, Deanna. I’m tired of dealing with you. You don’t care about me or our relationship. I’m not sure you care about anything except getting your way and how things look to other people. You sure as hell don’t seem to want me around. You want my paycheck and then you want me to get out of your way.”
Heat burned on her cheeks even as fear froze her chest and made it impossible to breathe.
“You think I don’t notice how impatient you are with me every time I try to do something with the girls? You make all of us feel like unwelcome visitors in our own home. Nothing is good enough for you. We certainly aren’t. You’re constantly riding the girls and you can’t stay off my ass. The house is your domain and you make it damn clear I’m not welcome there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, battered by the unexpected attack. “None of that is true.”
“Really? You actually believe that? Then we have a bigger problem than I thought.” He was quiet for a moment. “I thought it would get better. That you’d see what you were doing. But you haven’t and you won’t. Maybe I’ve been afraid of the consequences, I don’t know. Regardless, I’m done waiting.”
He stood and looked down at her. “I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of information in your folders there, Deanna. I don’t know if you planned to try to scare the crap out of me or tell me to get out. So my bottom line won’t have the same details as yours, but here goes anyway. I want a real marriage. I want to feel like I’m welcome in my own home. I’m tired of you calling all the shots and treating our daughters like they’re dogs to be housebroken rather than children to be nurtured. Things are going to change, starting now, or our marriage is over.”
He might have said more. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was cold and couldn’t breathe and her stomach hurt. She tried to stand and couldn’t. The folders fell onto the ground. Papers scattered everywhere.
He was wrong. He was wrong! The words repeated over and over again. Wrong and cruel. She hated him, hated this.
She managed to stand. Once she’d stepped out from the bench, she turned to tell him that, but he was already gone, his car driving away. She watched him disappear around a curve, and then she was alone.
* * *
Boston plunged her hands into the cool soil and moved her fingers through the loose dirt. Seedlings lined up beside her, delicate wisps that would grow into sturdy plants. While she planted most of her garden directly with seeds, the past few years she’d been experimenting with starting a few vegetables as seedlings. Zeke had built her a small greenhouse just for that purpose. Last year she’d had success with her tomatoes. This year she was adding broccoli and cabbage to the mix.
She reached for the first plant, then sat back on her heels when she heard a truck pull into the driveway. Not her husband, she thought. Her brother-in-law, Wade. Most likely here to plead Zeke’s case. Once a big brother, always a big brother. Wade could no more help himself from stepping between Zeke and trouble than he could change his eye color or height.
She shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the grass and waited. About thirty seconds later, Wade walked around the corner of the house and spotted her.
“I figured you’d be in your garden,” he said as he approached.
Boston stared up at him. The brothers were around the same height, six-two, with dark hair and eyes. They were strong, easygoing and loyal to a fault. They were also driven by demons neither would admit to and shared a passion for sports that she had never understood. All she knew was that she held a small private celebration every year when football season was finally over.
Wade settled next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had on jeans and worn work boots, a plaid shirt. No jacket. The King brothers were tough and barely bothered with any kind of outerwear until it hit near freezing.
She’d known Wade nearly as long as she’d known his brother. If she remembered correctly, Zeke had taken her home to meet his family after their second date. Over salad and spaghetti he’d announced he was going to marry her one day. She had to give his parents credit. Neither had blinked at the statement. Probably because they’d assumed that young love didn’t have much of a shelf life.
“He thinks you’re pissed,” Wade said, his tone conversational.
“Shouldn’t he be having this conversation with me?” she asked.
“You know Zeke hates confrontation.”
“And you don’t?”
Wade gave her a familiar grin. “You like me too much to yell at me. Besides, I’m the innocent bystander.”
“I love Zeke and I’m very comfortable yelling at him.”
“Sure, which is why I’m here instead of him. He doesn’t know how to reach you. He says it’s like you’re not even there some days.”
An accurate assessment, she thought, knowing that every spare corner of her heart was filled with pain. There was so much of it, she couldn’t feel anything else. And because the pain consumed her, she deliberately chose to feel nothing at all.
She missed her beautiful baby boy in perfect solitude, in an emotional vacuum, where he was always smiling and happy and only slightly out of reach.
She poked at the turned earth. “This isn’t your fight, Wade.”
“Tell me he can go home. I’m tired of him sleeping on my couch.”
“He never had to leave.”
Wade raised his left eyebrow.
She sighed. “It’s not my fault he’d rather run than fight. I’m willing to take him on.”
“Are you? He says the problem is you don’t fight.” Concern darkened his eyes. “You already lost Liam. Don’t lose each other.”
Boston managed not to flinch at the sound of her son’s name. “I can’t be lost,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady so Wade wouldn’t guess the truth. “I will love Zeke until I die. As to the rest of it, did he tell you what he said?”
Wade looked at her. “He’s not wrong, Boston. Having another baby...”
She scrambled to her feet and shook her head. “Stop it. You don’t get to say that. You have a daughter. She’s beautiful and healthy and you don’t get to tell me when I should be ready.” She took a step back, then another.
Wade held up both his hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t get to say. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She drew in a breath. Wade moved close and wrapped his arms around her. She settled into the comfort—a silent acceptance of his apology. Her brother-in-law kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t be mad at him. He loves you. I love you, too. Just, you know, not like that.”
It was an old joke—a familiar one. Comfortable. She closed her eyes and nodded. “I don’t love you like that, either. Send him home. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“If he’s here, I can torture him more thoroughly.”
“That’s my girl.” He released her. “I’m taking over the Gordon job.”
“The house next door? Not Zeke?”
“He and I decided I was more suited to the project.”
She looked up at Wade and raised her eyebrows. “Of course you did. I’m sure it was a long, thoughtful conversation and had nothing to do with the fact that Andi Gordon is pretty, single and has a great butt.”
“My work is pain. I do what I can.”
“You’re a complete and total dog.”
“Not really, but I do want to check out the new neighbor.” He winked. “I have an appointment first thing in the morning. Wish me luck.”
“No, and send my husband home.”
Wade waved his agreement and started toward his truck. Boston returned to her planting.
Zeke would return and they would talk and life would go on. At some point he would have to accept that she wasn’t ready for the next step—that her heart had been torn in so many pieces it might never be whole. People healed in different ways and at different speeds. She was fine with him having already moved on. She almost wished she could be like him. Almost. Because the truth was, not letting go allowed her to keep her baby close. In her pain, Liam was always with her. Exactly where he belonged.
* * *
Deanna wasn’t sure how long she sat in the park. When she finally forced herself to move, she was shivering. Perhaps from the cooling temperatures or perhaps from something deep inside herself.
Colin’s words continued to batter her. As she stood, she felt blood seeping from wounds no one else could see.
He was wrong, she told herself as she made her way back to her SUV. How could he think that about her? She loved her children. She devoted her life to her family. She had nothing for herself. She was defined by her relationships, by her love for them.
She started the engine and slowly drove back to her house. As she made a turn, the folder slipped off the seat and papers scattered on the passenger-side carpet.
She’d been so sure, she thought bitterly. So prepared. She’d known what she was going to say, going to demand. Now she was left scrambling, unable to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.
Humiliation seared through her, making her skin burn. Had he talked to the girls about this? Did they all know what had happened? She would expect Madison to be gleeful, but the other girls, the younger ones, the twins, they were her babies. They loved her. She was their mother.
But Deanna realized she was less sure than she had been an hour ago. It was as if someone had picked up her entire world and shaken it before putting it down again. While everything was where it was supposed to be, the seams weren’t straight and the edges didn’t line up.
She turned at the corner and started up the last hill. The three houses, the Three Sisters, came into view. The sight of hers, so beautifully restored, usually calmed her, but not today. Not now.
Apparently she hadn’t sat in the park as long as she’d thought because Colin was still in the driveway. All five girls crowded around him, hugging and talking, each struggling to be the one who carried his suitcase.
She slowed, then came to a stop in the street and watched as her children smiled at their father. They were so happy to see him. She could hear their excited voices and their laughter. They practically danced for him.
A few days ago, the scene would have filled her with contentment and pride. So many fathers weren’t interested in their children, but not Colin. He’d always been involved with the girls. Now she understood that he’d had a plan all along. A desire to take everything from her. To hurt her.
Deanna waited until they’d all gone inside, then parked next to his car and went into the house. Loud conversation came from the kitchen as each of Colin’s daughters vied for his attention. She took the stairs up to their bedroom and closed the door.
She leaned against the sturdy wood and struggled to keep breathing. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. Wouldn’t let him know he’d gotten to her.
She crossed to the bed and grabbed one of the corner posts. She held on, gasping for air.
The unfairness made her want to scream. She’d sacrificed everything for Colin. Had created this perfect life he now complained about. She was a good mother. She was! How dare he judge her? He got to leave every week. She took care of all the details, she had to manage every crisis, while he got to come and go as he pleased. He was always the returning hero. She was the parent who reminded the children to brush their teeth.
Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. She hung on to the carved wood with both hands, digging her nails into the varnished surface. Hatred filled her. Resentment and anger blended into a poison.
Damn him, she thought viciously. Damn them all.
Chapter Four
ANDI STOOD IN front of the coffeepot. “Come on,” she murmured. “Hurry. I’m seriously desperate.”
Water gurgled over grounds, then dripped out as dark, magic elixir. Andi held her mug where the carafe usually sat and waited until the cup nearly overflowed, then expertly put the carafe back in place and took her first sip.
Life, she thought happily, the hot, caffeinated liquid slipping down her throat. Life and promise and a gradual easing of the sleepy dullness blanketing her brain.
She pushed her hair out of her face and tried to remind herself that she loved the house. She’d uprooted her life for a reason that had seemed very compelling at the time.
“More coffee,” she said aloud. “Then I’ll remember why I thought this was a good idea.”
She crossed the attic floor and stared out the window. She might be living in tight quarters, but she sure couldn’t complain about the view. From up here, she could see across the whole west half of the island. Beyond that the sound sparkled in bright morning sun. Right now, coffee in hand and nothing horrifying dive-bombing her head, she could see the potential. At three in the morning, not so much.
A truck pulled into her driveway. She glanced down, wondering who could be visiting her at eight on Saturday morning. It wasn’t as if...
“Crap,” she said, putting her coffee on the windowsill and glancing down at the oversized T-shirt she slept in. “Double crap.”
Zeke, her contractor. They had an appointment. Something she would have remembered if she’d had more than four hours of sleep in the past three nights.
She ripped off her T-shirt, pulled on jeans and fastened up a bra. After grabbing the same shirt she’d worn yesterday, she shoved her feet into sandals and hurried down the stairs. She paused at the second-story landing long enough to pull the shirt on and smooth it into place.
Aware that she hadn’t showered since she’d arrived and that her hair looked like something out of Halloween 5, she was grateful she’d at least brushed her teeth. Civilization required standards. Hers might not be especially high, but at least she’d kept some.
She jumped down the last three stairs and headed for the door at a run. She pulled it open just before Zeke knocked.
“Seriously,” she said with a laugh. “You drove? You live—”
Next door. The words stayed on her tongue as her jaw dropped open. Because the guy standing in front of her wasn’t Zeke King, her contractor and neighbor.
Zeke was tall, with dark hair and a nice smile. Good looking, she supposed. But even if that exact description could be used for the man standing in front of her, nothing about them was the same.
While his height was probably within a half inch of Zeke, he looked taller. His hair was darker, his smile brighter. Sexier, she thought, carefully closing her mouth and wishing desperately she’d showered and put on makeup. Maybe that great suit that made her look as if she actually had curves and hey, boobs.
“Morning,” the man said, his voice low and smoky.
Her unpainted toes curled ever so slightly.
“You must be Andi Gordon. I’m Wade King. Zeke’s brother.”
Zeke had a brother?
There were a few lines by Wade’s eyes, and the planes of his face were more sculptured. She would guess he was older than Zeke by a couple of years. If she hadn’t spent the past decade getting her heart trampled by a no-good jerk who’d left her at the altar and then had married his secretary two weeks later, she just might have wondered if Wade was single.
“Andi?”
“What? Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not all here. Come on in.”
She stepped back to allow him entry into the house.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You said you’re not all here.”
“Oh, right. Lack of sleep. I have bats.”
Wade laughed.
She suddenly found him slightly less sexy. “I’m not kidding. I have bats and no hot water. When I’m awake I’d say the lack of hot water is the bigger problem, but flying rodents are keeping me up at night.”
He dropped his worn backpack onto the dusty floor. “You really hate bats.”
“I hate anything that flies into my hair at three in the morning. I’ve been beating them back with a broom.”
“I’d pay money to see that.”
“I’d pay money to get them gone. Do you know the percentage of bats that carry rabies?”
“No.”
“It’s really high.”
His mouth twitched. “As long as you have the actual number.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”
“I’m your contractor. Wade King. You really are tired.”
“I remember your name. You’re Zeke’s brother. You work together?”
“Yes. King Construction. No relation.”
“What?”
“King Construction. The Kings of California?” His tone was helpful. “They’re a big deal in— Never mind. Zeke and I work on all the jobs together. We’ll be in and out here, but I’m going to take point.” He pulled on his backpack. “I have the plans with me. Are you up to looking at them? I know you met with Zeke right after you made your offer, but I want to confirm everything before we get started with the demolition on Monday.”
“Can I have hot water and no bats?”
He flashed her a grin that made her knees go weak. “Sure. I’ll take care of both before I leave.”
“Then I’m happy to look at plans.”
* * *
Shortly after ten, Andi stood under a spray of hot water and decided that she was never going to ask for anything or complain, ever again. Her shower was heaven. She rinsed the lather out of her hair, then reached for her birthday-cake-scented shower wash and squeezed a generous dollop into her palm. The sugary fragrance surrounded her, chasing away the last of her exhaustion. As long as she had hot water and coffee, she could be a happy person.
Twenty minutes later, she had dressed in clean clothes and combed out her wet hair. She followed the sound of cursing to the third floor and stood watching as her very hunky contractor discovered she hadn’t been lying about the bats.
“See?”
“This is not a good time to be smug,” he told her, waving what looked like a butterfly net toward a dark corner of the space she’d claimed as her living room.
“Sure it is. You didn’t believe me. Oh, and I wasn’t kidding about the rabies, either. Don’t let them bite you.”
He gave her a quick glance. “Not getting bitten was the plan.”
Something dark swooped from the rafter. Wade swung the net and snagged the shadow before it could retreat behind the large armoire against the wall. Andi had to admit she was torn between his impressive eye-hand coordination and the ripple of muscles she’d seen under his worn T-shirt.
The bat fluttered in the net. Wade held the opening against the wall, so it couldn’t get out.
“Grab this, please.”
She took the handle while he pulled on gloves. “You’re not going to kill it, are you?”
“No. I’m going to take it out to the trees and let it go. I could only find this one, so once it’s gone, you should be fine.”
“Good.” She shivered. “I hope it doesn’t attack you.”
One eyebrow rose. “Me, too.”
She watched from the window. Wade appeared on her patchy lawn and walked toward a grove of trees. Seconds later, something fluttered in the leaves and he was heading back for the house.
Impressive, she thought, wishing she’d called after the first night. She could have been bat-free that much sooner.
She poured them each a cup of coffee, then settled at the small table. Wade joined her and pulled the plans out of his backpack.
They were close enough that she could inhale the clean smell of soap and fabric softener. His dark eyes were made up of a thousand shades of brown with tiny flecks of gold. Her gaze settled on his mouth as she wondered if he was a good kisser. Not that she would be able to judge. She’d been kissing Matt for a decade and look where that had gotten her.
“Here’s the plan for the main floor.”
He pushed the paper toward her and oriented it so the front door was closest to her. She leaned in and traced the various rooms. Waiting area, front reception desk, back office, lunch room, three treatment rooms, supply space.
He talked about windows and light, the materials they would use. Decisions would have to be made on paint colors and fixtures.
“We did the remodeling at Doc Harrington’s office a few years back,” he told her. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. I’ll be working there until my office is done. I start Monday.”
“Look around when you get a chance. We did some custom built-ins the nurses love. We can do them for you, too.”
She looked at Wade. “The most important thing to remember is that I’m dealing with children. I want them to be comfortable. Bad enough if they’re sick—the environment shouldn’t scare them, too. So bright, friendly colors.”
He leaned back and grinned. “Now you sound like my sister-in-law.” He motioned to the house next door. “Boston.”
“Oh, right. Because Zeke is her husband. I met her earlier this past week. She’s nice.”
“She is. And an artist. Maybe the two of you can talk about what makes one color more friendly than another.”
She studied him, aware that his eyes had crinkled in amusement. “You’re mocking me.”
“Some. We’ve got a little time until we’re ready for paint.”
“I’ll be sure to get my decision made in the next couple of weeks.”
They talked logistics—what walls would be torn down, how messy everything would be. Wade assured her she could live in the house through all the construction, and she nearly believed him. She confirmed delivery dates for various pieces of equipment and gave him a list of the fixtures and appliances she’d already picked out.
“I’ll give you an update most evenings,” he told her. “I’m generally the last guy out at the end of the day.”
“A boss who works,” she murmured. “Impressive. But aren’t the long hours hard on your family?”
“They’re used to it.”
She sighed silently. So much for subtly trying to get information on whether or not he was married. The average sixteen-year-old had more dating experience than her. All she wanted to know was if Wade was as good as he looked. Oh, and if he was married, of course.
Not that she wanted a relationship. Or anything else. She’d moved to the island with the idea that she would spend the rest of her life celibate. Eventually she wouldn’t miss being with a man. After all, how could she long for what she’d never really had? She and Matt had never had what could be called a wild sex life, although right now something other than lights-out, every other Saturday night, sounded kind of fun. Not that she was going to say that out loud. Or even think it. That part of her life was over. She’d moved on. Like to a higher spiritual plane.
“Andi?”
She blinked and realized Wade was staring at her. “Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. A little punchy from my nights with a bat.”
“A challenge for anyone.” He rose. “Come on. I’ll show you where I was thinking we should put the kitchen.”
Sadly, that was the most exciting invitation she’d had in recent memory.
* * *
Sunday morning, Deanna paused at the top of the stairs. She could hear the laughter and conversation coming from the kitchen. It was always this way. No matter his work schedule, Colin made sure he was home on Sunday. He got up early and made breakfast for the whole family. Sometimes it was omelets and other times pancakes. Once he’d made scones from scratch.
The girls joined him, sitting at the stools by the counter, talking about their weeks. Madison and Lucy helped with the preparation, and Audrey kept track of the twins.
Deanna had never been a fan of the Sunday ritual. She didn’t like Colin cooking. He always made such a mess. The man used every pot and pan they owned. There were splatters and spills, dishes piled in the sink. But what she disliked most was the way the morning felt like all of them against her. Despite the fact that she was the mother and the one who cooked every other meal, she’d never felt comfortable in her own kitchen on Sunday morning.
Now she hovered, not sure whether to join them or not. She and Colin had been avoiding each other for the past two days. He’d slept on the couch, a fact that annoyed her. She’d so wanted to be the one to kick him out of their bedroom, but he hadn’t given her the chance. Now he was acting as if nothing else had changed.
She supposed for him it hadn’t. He’d delivered his ultimatum and then had walked away, abandoning her.
She rubbed her fingers together, aware of her dry skin, the cracked knuckles. She was washing her hands too much. Worse, it wasn’t helping. The familiar ritual provided no comfort at all.
Shame crawled over her. Shame for being weak, shame for not being in control of her family and her husband. If people knew, they would laugh at her. She wouldn’t belong anywhere.
That wasn’t going to happen, she told herself. She was strong and determined. She’d survived more difficult circumstances than this. Somehow she and Colin would come to terms. They always had in the past. He was in one of his moods. He would get over it. As for the girls, she was their mother and nothing would change that.
She raised her chin and started down the stairs. As she approached the kitchen, the voices got louder. There was a burst of laughter. Deanna faked a smile, then walked in through the wide doorway.
Colin stood at the stove. The twins and Audrey were at the counter. Lucy was pouring juice and Madison stood by her dad.
As one they all turned to look at her. The three younger girls’ happy faces took on an expression of guilt. Lucy looked as if she wanted to crawl into a cupboard while Madison glared at her. Colin was impossible to read.
Silence pushed out the laughter. Deanna glanced from one daughter to the other, not seeing any sign of welcome. Her fingers curled into her palms as she told herself to stand her ground. Colin turned his attention back to the stove and flipped several pancakes.
“These are almost done,” he said.
“I’ll get the syrup,” Madison told him.
Deanna stood in the doorway, invisible and unwanted, as memories of previous Sunday mornings crowded her vision. It was always like this, she thought, shocked by the realization. The silence when she walked into the room. The obvious signs that she should simply go away. That she didn’t belong.
Tears burned. She blinked them away, turned on her heel and walked out. In the hallway, she paused, not sure where she should go. Her chest tightened and she hurried up the stairs. Once in her bedroom, she carefully closed and locked the door, then retreated to the bathroom, where she turned on the hot water and reached for the soap.
* * *
Sunday afternoon Andi sat on her battered and slightly dangerous front porch. She was careful to avoid loose boards and splinters, but the day was too beautiful to stay inside. Plus, she’d run out of things to do in her tiny living space. She was unpacked, bat-free and waiting until she started work in the morning.
Boston rounded the corner of her house, saw her and waved. Andi waved back.
“How’s it going?” Boston asked, her hair flashing with purple highlights in the sun.
“Good.” Andi stood and walked down the stairs. “I’m settled. Construction starts tomorrow.”
Boston shook her head. “Enjoy this last day of normal, then. I know demolition is important, but it’s hard to watch.”
“Fortunately I’ll be gone most of the day. I’m working with Dr. Harrington temporarily. It gives me a chance to meet potential patients.”
“He won’t mind you poaching from his practice?”
Andi grinned. “Not at all. He’s told me he’s pleased to have a pediatrician in the area.” She glanced around and then lowered her voice. “I think he’s tired of dealing with the little kids and babies. They tend to have more emergencies. Ear infections, that sort of thing.”
Boston nodded, even as her gaze slid away. “Right.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wade mentioned something about a bat. Is it gone?”
“It seems to be.” Andi studied her neighbor. She would swear something had just happened, but she had no idea what. Before she could figure out a way to ask, the front door of the house on the other side opened and an attractive blond woman stepped out onto her porch.
“Your other neighbor,” Boston murmured. “Deanna Phillips. She’s the one with five girls. I should probably introduce you.”
Andi was about to agree when Deanna raised her hand to her cheek and swiped her skin. They were too far away to see actual tears, but the movement was unmistakable.
“Another time might be better,” Andi said, turning away.
Boston nodded, her eyebrows drawing together. “Deanna’s always so together. I can’t imagine her crying. That would require a break in her perfect facade.” She grimaced. “Sorry. That came out bitchier than I meant it to.”
“No problem,” Andi said, realizing life on their little street might not be as calm and simple as she’d first imagined.
Chapter Five
MONDAY MORNING ANDI parked behind the low one-story building and got out of her car. Deep in her stomach, butterflies flew in formation. She knew that physiologically she could detail an explanation of synapses and adrenaline, along with other chemicals brought on by anticipation of a potentially uncomfortable event, but butterflies were a better visual.
She’d dressed carefully for her first day of work. A tailored blouse tucked into black trousers. Low-heeled, comfortable shoes. She’d pulled her long, curly hair back into a braid and added a light touch of mascara. She’d debated over lip gloss, but that had seemed too fancy for a workday, so she’d settled on a clear lip balm and had called herself presentable.
She collected her purse, medical bag and the white coat with “Dr. Andi” stenciled on the pocket. Some of her patients found the white coat intimidating, so she’d had a bright pink caterpillar embroidered on the pocket, as well. The combination of the nearly fluorescent color and purple high-heeled shoes on the bug had the desired effect. She went from scary to funny in a glance. A relaxed patient usually made for a better outcome, and Andi was all about helping her kids.
She walked around to the main entrance and went inside.
The waiting area had been done in a soft beige. There were plenty of sofas and chairs, lots of magazines and a view of the strip mall across the street. Typical medical office, she thought, crossing to the reception desk.
The woman sitting there was in her mid-fifties, with flame-red hair. She was tall, even sitting down, with flashy rings on several fingers and the longest lashes Andi had ever seen. She doubted they were any more natural than her hair color. But her smile was warm and Andi remembered her being friendly.
“Hi, Laura,” Andi said.
The other woman looked up and then jumped to her feet. “You’re here. We’re all so excited you’re starting today. You already have appointments, if you can believe it. When word got out a pediatrician was moving to the island, we started getting calls. Families are so excited.”
Laura motioned for her to come back. Andi walked through the door in the reception area and found herself in a long hallway.
The medical offices had once been a sprawling private residence. Bedrooms had been converted to examination rooms and offices.
“Everyone should be here already, so you can meet the staff. Dr. Harrington said he wanted to spend a few minutes with you before you get started.”
Dr. Harrington ran a family practice on the island. There was an urgent-care clinic open on weekends, but otherwise residents had to go to Dr. Harrington or visit the mainland to seek medical care. Given the demographics of the place—lots of families and within a couple of hours of Seattle—Andi had seen the need for a pediatrician. Now she was going to find out if she’d been right.
A pretty blonde with long, straight hair stepped out of one of the exam rooms. Andi recalled meeting her when she’d visited the island and had spoken with Dr. Harrington about working in the practice for a few months.
“Nina, right?”
The woman, in her early thirties and wearing light blue scrubs, smiled. “You remembered. Welcome, Dr. Gordon.”
“Andi, please.”
“Sure. Andi.”
Laura touched Nina’s arm. “We thought it would be easier for you to have one nurse assigned to you. Nina volunteered.”
“Ask me anything,” Nina told her. “I can tell you everything from where we keep the alcohol wipes to the best dry cleaner in town.”
“I’m going to need both,” Andi said.
Laura introduced her to the other nurses, then led her back to what would be her temporary office. It was a small windowless room with a desk and a computer.
“I know it’s not much,” Nina began.
“Not to worry,” Andi told her. “I won’t be here for very long. Anywhere to update my charts is fine.”
“And maybe a little internet shoe shopping while on break?”
Andi grinned. “Absolutely. So far I love everything about the island except the lack of retail.”
“If you want a magnet in the shape of a blackberry, I can get you a great deal.”
“Right now I don’t have a kitchen, so that will have to wait.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“I promise,” Andi told her.
She dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of the metal desk, then followed Nina across the hall to Dr. Harrington’s office.
The older man rose as she entered. “Thanks, Nina. Andi, so nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you, Dr. Harrington.”
The gray-haired man shook her hand. “Ron, please.” He winked. “My father is Dr. Harrington.”
She took the seat on the visitor side of his desk while he settled back in his chair.
“My staff is getting you settled?” he asked.
“They are. I even have appointments.”
“You’ll be kept busy, that’s for sure. There’s enough work for all of us.”
“I appreciate you letting me work here through the summer.”
“I’m happy to have the help.” His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “At least until my son joins me in September.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “My son, the doctor. That has a nice ring to it.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Did I mention Dylan graduated at the top of his class in medical school?”
Only about fifteen times, Andi thought as she smiled. “Did he? You must be so proud.”
“I am, as is his mother. He’s a smart boy. And a doctor.”
His pleasure in his son’s accomplishments was a good thing, Andi told herself. Some parents were thrilled when their children became doctors. For her, the path to being a pediatrician was slightly more treacherous. It wasn’t that her parents had a problem with the medical profession. They felt that her choice had been a waste of talent.
Why bother with “scraped knees and vaccinations,” as her mother had put it? Her mother, the cardiothoracic surgeon, felt Andi should have picked a more challenging specialty. Her father, the neurosurgeon, agreed. Andi’s brother was also a neurosurgeon and her sister was doing medical research that would probably cure cancer. Andi was considered a disappointment—a screwup, rather than the child who had lived up to her potential.
She shook off the voice of her mother and returned her attention to Ron, who explained how the practice worked.
“Nina will go over the schedule,” he was saying. “If you don’t mind, we’d like you to work a Saturday every three weeks. You’ll get a compensating day off.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she told him. “I know a lot of parents work, so getting to the doctor midweek can be difficult.”
“Good. Then Nina will show you where we keep everything.” He rose. “I thought you and I could go to lunch today. I can answer any questions you have.” He winked. “Show you pictures of my son’s graduation.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.”
He shook her hand again. “We’re happy to have you, Andi.”
“I’m excited to be here.”
Nina was waiting in the hallway.
“All your appointments are routine,” Nina told her as they walked toward the rear of the building. “A physical for camp, a few vaccinations, a well-baby visit.”
“Sounds like my kind of day.”
Nina motioned for her to enter the door on the left. It was the break room, with several lockers, a table with six chairs around it. A window looked out onto the rear parking lot. But what had Andi feeling all warm and fuzzy inside was the bouquet of flowers next to a cake with the word Welcome spelled out in pink icing. All the nurses and staff were gathered around, waiting for her.
“Welcome to the island.”
“We should take you to lunch.”
The last statement came from Laura, the receptionist.
“I’d love that,” Andi said. “You don’t have to take me, but it would be fun to go as a group.”
The other women all looked at each other. Nina glanced at her. “Really? Because we weren’t sure. What with you being a doctor and all.”
“I still like lunch,” Andi said with a smile. “And company. I’d enjoy the chance to get to know all of you.”
“Then it’s a date,” Laura said firmly, reaching for a knife. “Tomorrow. I know Dr. H is taking you out today.” She cut the first piece of cake and slid it onto a plate. “God, I love it when my day starts with a really big sugar rush.”
By five minutes to nine, Andi had finished her slice of cake and a second cup of coffee. She was already on her way to a very nice caffeine-sugar buzz. Not exactly the breakfast she would recommend to her patients, but this was a special occasion.
Nina stuck her head in the office. “Carly and Gabby Williams are in exam room four. That’s the one you’ll mostly be using.”
Andi stood and smoothed the front of her white coat. “I’m ready,” she said, reaching for the chart.
Nina walked with her. “Gabby’s ten, in good health. She’s going to summer camp in a few weeks, and the camp requires a current physical.”
“Okay.” Andi stopped in front of the closed door and drew in a breath.
Nerves danced in formation while she told herself that she would be fine. Her patients were the best part of her day. She knocked once, then stepped into the examination room.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Dr. Andi Gordon.” She smiled at the mother and daughter. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Carly Williams,” the mother said.
“I’m Gabby.”
They were both blondes, with dark blue eyes and similar shapes to their faces.
Andi turned to the girl. “I’m going to guess you’re the mom?”
Gabby grinned. “I know you don’t think that.”
“Don’t I?”
Gabby shook her head. “You can’t. You’re a doctor and doctors are really smart.”
“I’ve heard that, too.” Andi sat on the stool. “So, I understand you’re going to camp.” She glanced at Carly. “This is about your daughter going, right? Not you.”
Carly laughed. “I would love to spend a month away from my life at camp. But I don’t think I fit the age requirement.”
Gabby giggled.
Andi leaned toward her. “So, tell me about this camp.”
“It’s gonna be great. It’s in the mountains and there’s horses, but the best part is I get to help write a real play and then we perform it and everything.”
“Wow. I want to go, too.”
“I’m very excited,” Gabby confessed.
“I’m getting that.” Andi pulled her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Do you ride horses?”
“I’m gonna learn.”
She started the exam, working slowly, making sure Gabby was still talking about camp rather than worrying about whether or not anything was going to hurt. When mother and daughter left the room, she made a few notes on the chart and then sighed. This was going to be a good day.
* * *
Monday night Deanna loaded the last two pictures onto the family’s Facebook page, then scanned her latest entry. It was an update on how the girls were doing in school. She was less concerned about spelling and grammar than tone. She didn’t want anyone reading the words to guess there was something wrong.
Keeping up the facade of “Gee, of course I’m fine. Why do you ask?” was exhausting. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep. She spent most nights lying awake in the large bed, wondering how everything had gotten so messed up and trying to figure out why she was the bad guy.
If she were like her mother, she would understand Madison’s resentment and Colin’s horrible accusations. But she wasn’t. Her house was clean, she prepared meals, gave them positive attention. No one found her drunk, unconscious in her own vomit. She’d never once raised a hand to her children, let alone beaten them. They didn’t flinch when she walked by.
But they didn’t adore her—not the way they adored their father. They didn’t run to her or light up when she walked into a room, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why not.
She tried telling herself it was because Colin was gone so much. He was less accessible than her. But she wasn’t sure she could believe that reasoning. So it had to be something else. If only she knew what.
She rubbed her temples, wishing her eyes didn’t burn so much.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Deanna looked up and saw Colin walking into the study. They’d barely spoken since his verbal attack in the park on Friday, and she sure didn’t want to speak to him now. But there were logistics to be worked out.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Thursday.” He closed the study door behind him and walked toward the desk. “Have you thought about what we talked about last week?”
She stood so she could glare directly at him and not have to look up. “We didn’t talk. You told me everything I’m doing wrong and then you left. That’s not a conversation.”
He studied her. “You’re right. So let’s talk now.”
“I’ve spent my life taking care of you and the girls and all I get is accusations and bitterness.”
“You’re expecting gratitude?”
Of course. She’d been a damn good mother and an excellent wife. Not that any of them appreciated her. “I don’t want to be your punching bag.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s extreme.”
“What would you call it? You say those things, and then you turn my children from me.” Her throat tightened, but she refused to show weakness. “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t have anything left to give.”
“Then we have a problem, because I do want more. I want to be a part of things.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
“What does that mean?”
“That means you lighten up a little. There are dozens of rules for everything the girls or I do. You want to be in complete control of where we go, what we wear, what we eat.”
“I cook dinner and make lunch. That’s not control.” The unfairness stung. “I keep a calendar of activities so I know who has to be driven where. Why are you twisting everything I do?”
She wanted to tell him if he was so unhappy, he could leave. Only she wasn’t ready for that. To be left.
“You’re making me sound like a monster and I’m not.”
His expression tightened. “Tonight at dinner, Audrey asked for a second helping of lasagna and you told her no.”
“She’d had enough.”
“How do you know? She told me later that she’d dropped her sandwich on the floor in the cafeteria, and one of the teachers had thrown it out. She didn’t have any money, so she couldn’t buy lunch. Your daughter had eaten only an apple for lunch and was starving.”
Deanna felt herself flush. “She should have said something.”
“And risk you yelling at her? It was easier to go hungry.”
“I don’t yell.” She didn’t yell. She spoke firmly and reasonably.
“You scare her. Hell, you scare me.”
“I wish that were true.”
He shook his head. “I know you mean well, Deanna, but you’re not easy. I was raised to think that as our children’s mother, you knew best. I don’t believe that anymore. I think there are issues from your past that—”
She slapped her hands on the desk and glared at him. “You leave my mother out of this, you hear me?”
He raised both arms in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about it? We won’t. Here’s what I know. I’m spending more than half my life on the road. I’m missing my children growing up. I’m not here for them and I want to be. I understand that I make more money on the road, but we’re going to have to learn to get by on less. I want to be here. I want to go to games and performances. I want to take them to their various play dates. I want to meet their friends.”
Leaving her with what? Deanna wondered. He was trying to push her out of her own life.
“The second thing I want is to understand what you think of me. Of us.” His mouth twisted slightly. “I doubt you still love me and I’m not sure you even like me. I suspect you’re a lot more fond of our lifestyle than our marriage.” He shrugged. “I’d like to be wrong, but I don’t think so.”
He glanced past her, then returned his gaze to her face. “Was it ever about me or was I a means to an end?”
The insults burned to her bones, while fear held her in an icy grip.
“How dare you?” she said, her voice low and angry.
“Right. How dare I? It’s only my marriage, too.”
She wanted to throw something. To hit him and hurt him the way she’d been hurt. Hatred burned bright, but not bright enough to make her forget what divorce would mean.
“Don’t even think about coming back to our bed,” she told him.
Colin nodded, then actually smiled, even if it was ugly. “Sure. No sex. It’s not like that will be a change.”
With that he turned and walked away. Deanna stared after him for several seconds, before collapsing back into her chair and covering her face with her cracked and raw hands. She waited for the tears, but they didn’t come. She was too empty, too broken. Everything was wrong and she didn’t even know where to start to fix something that had become impossible to understand.
Chapter Six
THE BLACKBERRY ISLAND Inn’s restaurant looked out over the water. The lunch crowd was a combination of business people, tourists and ladies who lunched. Andi studied the menu, trying to decide between the soup and sandwich of the day and the quiche special.
Nina glanced up at her. “Seriously, you have to try the chicken salad on focaccia bread. It’s so good, it’s practically a religious experience.”
“She’s right,” Laura said, adjusting her reading glasses. “I swear I could eat a big ol’ tub of it every day. Of course then I’d get fat and Dr. H would lecture me on my blood pressure and cholesterol.” She put down the menu. “I do adore working for the man, but he is obsessed with health.”
Andi did her best to hold in her laughter. “It’s, um, probably an occupational hazard.”
“You’re right. I was offered a job with a dentist years ago, but I knew I couldn’t stand the sound of that drilling. We can see subatomic particles, but we can’t make quiet dental drills? We’re spending money on the wrong kind of research.”
Everyone chuckled at that. Andi leaned back in her chair and listened to the conversation flow around her. She’d survived her first day at work and was well into her second. She was out to lunch with the office and nursing staff. That morning, she’d left a half dozen burly men ripping up the inside of her house. There weren’t any more bats, she had hot water and basically life was pretty good.
Dawn, one of the nurses, picked up her iced tea. “I can’t believe you moved here on purpose,” she said. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve barely been out of the county. I used to dream of moving to Seattle.”
“Then you got married and had kids and now you’re stuck,” Misty said cheerfully. She was the office manager-bookkeeper and the person who kept everything running smoothly.
Laura sipped her diet soda. “She’s just complaining. Don’t listen to a word Dawn says. She loves it here on the island. We all do.”
“So you were all born here?” Andi asked.
“I moved here when I was five,” Laura said. “Which is practically the same thing.” She leaned toward Andi. “You know all the good men are married, right?”
“There are a few single guys around,” Nina said.
“Not many,” Laura said. “As for the tourists, if you see a guy who isn’t with a woman, don’t get excited. Chances are he’s not into your girly parts.”
Misty poked Laura in the arm. “Behave. Don’t frighten Andi her first week.”
“Yes, please don’t,” Andi said with a laugh. “We’ll want to wait and frighten me my second week. For what it’s worth, I’m okay with the lack of men. I suspected as much when I moved here. I had a bad breakup and I’m giving up on men. At least for the next decade.”
Although looking at Wade was a pleasant diversion. She wondered if her handsome contractor fell into the single category or not. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a casual way to ask.
“You’re so brave,” Nina told her. “Starting over in a new place. You bought that beautiful house and now you’re going to open your own practice.”
Andi smiled, knowing that description sounded a whole lot better than the truth, which was she’d been running away and this was where she’d ended up.
Misty sighed. “I agree with Nina. I could never do what you did. Dr. H said to let you know that we’ll help in any way we can with interviewing staff and helping you set up.”
Andi was speechless for a moment. “That’s very kind of all of you.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“Obsessed with his son,” Laura said with a sigh.
“My son, the doctor,” they all said together, then broke into laughter.
Their server came by and took their orders. Andi decided to try the famous chicken salad sandwich.
“Have you started construction on the house?” Nina asked when the server had left. “That’s got to be a big job.”
“It is. Fortunately I don’t have to do any of it.” Andi shrugged. “I just walk through in the evening and pray for progress. They’re pretty much gutting each floor.”
“You’re going to have your practice there?” Nina asked.
“On the ground floor. The plans are finalized. Wade showed them to me on Saturday.”
“Oooh, Wade.” Laura pretended to fan herself. “He’s so hot.”
“And a little young for you,” Misty reminded her.
“Honey, I’m just looking, although if he offered a taste, I wouldn’t say no.”
Andi felt her eyes widen. “He’s popular, then?”
“He’s practically a god,” Dawn admitted. “He and I went to school together. I had a crush on him from the time I was twelve. He never looked at me.”
“His loss,” Nina told her.
“I wish that were true. He’s a good guy.”
“Love his ass,” Laura said, then glanced at Andi. “Have you seen it?”
“I, uh, hadn’t really noticed.”
“You need to. And just think. It’ll be there at the end of every day. You’re a lucky woman.”
Andi didn’t know what to say to that, which turned out to be a good thing because she’d suddenly had a moment of inspiration. “What does his wife think about all the women around here ogling her husband?”
The other four women glanced at each other. Misty raised her eyebrows. “He’s not married.”
“His wife died,” Nina said. “Cancer. It was very sad.”
“He has a daughter,” Dawn added. “She’s twelve. Carrie. A real sweetie. She and my daughter sometimes hang out, although her real best friend is Madison Phillips. The Phillips family lives next door to you.”
There was another moment of the women looking at each other, followed by a second of silence.
“I’ll say it,” Laura announced. “Have you met Deanna Phillips? She owns the house beside yours. She’s a complete and total bitch.”
“I met Boston.” Andi quickly calculated the relationship. “She would be Wade’s sister-in-law and Zeke’s wife? Do I have that right?”
“You got it,” Nina told her. “And I’m not sure I agree that Deanna’s a bitch. She’s...intense.”
“Sanctimonious, you mean,” Laura said. “Those poor kids.”
All Andi knew was that Deanna had been standing on her porch a couple of days ago, crying.
Dawn shook her head. “Deanna is one of those mothers who makes her own bread, only buys organic and doesn’t let her girls watch TV unless it’s educational. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she added quickly. “It’s just...”
Laura chimed in. “She’s always telling people how long that damn house has been in her family. She can’t have a regular garden. No. Hers is in perfect keeping with the perfect style of her perfect house.”
“Not that you’re bitter,” Nina said.
“I didn’t have a lot of money growing up,” Laura said. “I’m not going to say different. Deanna grew up just as poor as me, but to hear her talk these days you’d think she personally came over on the Mayflower. I worked with her once organizing a charity wine tour. I didn’t like her.”
“Really?” Misty said. “Because you can’t tell at all.”
“I haven’t met her,” Andi said, suddenly not anxious to do so. She was having trouble reconciling the information on Deanna with the sad woman standing alone in front of her house.
“She’ll be nice to you,” Nina told her. “She has five daughters, so she must be thrilled to have a pediatrician living next door.”
“Built-in customers,” Andi murmured. She cleared her throat. “I met Boston last week and we talked this weekend. She seemed nice.”
“She’s great,” Nina said.
“An artist,” Laura added. “I have two of her paintings. So beautiful. She makes most of her money from hand-painting fabric for designers all around the country. But her true calling is portraiture. She does lovely work. My husband had her do a painting of our two children about ten years ago. Boston was barely out of art school. That picture still hangs in our living room. It’s wonderful.”
Misty nodded. “She and Zeke have been together since they were kids. True love. It’s nice to see.” Her eyes darkened. “It’s too bad, what happened.”
Everyone went quiet. Laura looked up at Andi. “She and Zeke had a baby about a year ago. He died when he was six months old. It was a heart condition. She was holding him and he just went. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. They didn’t deserve to lose their little boy.”
“I didn’t know,” Andi murmured. While she’d never lost a child of her own, she’d been with parents who had. Their pain had stayed with her.
“We don’t usually gossip this much,” Nina said into the silence that followed.
“Yes, we do,” Laura told her. “And more. We’re being good because Andi doesn’t know us very well and we want her to like us. You should see us after a glass or two of wine. We’ll straighten that curly hair of yours.”
Andi reached up and pulled one of her curls. “I wouldn’t mind straight hair. When I was little, I read a book about a girl who got scarlet fever. They had to shave her head and her hair grew back curly. I used to ask my mom to take me to the hospital so I could find someone with scarlet fever and get their germs. I was hoping my hair would grow in straight.”
Laura slowly shook her head. “I can’t decide if that’s the sweetest story I’ve ever heard or the saddest. Either way, it’s good to know you’re just as crazy as the rest of us.”
“Why would I be spared crazy?” Andi asked with a grin.
“Excellent point, honey. Excellent point.”
* * *
Andi arrived home at exactly five-fifteen in the afternoon. She might still be adjusting to island life, but she had to admit she was loving the work hours. She’d been home before five-thirty both days. She knew eventually there would be emergencies that kept her out later every now and then, but the pace of life was sure slower than in Seattle.
She parked in her driveway, next to a battered pickup truck. She recognized it from her meeting on Saturday morning and quickly checked her appearance in her rearview mirror. Not that there was much to do. It wasn’t as if she was going to suddenly start wearing more makeup.
She smoothed her hair and made sure none of the mascara had migrated to under her eyes, then grabbed her purse and stepped out of her SUV. At least she’d showered and was dressed decently. The last time Wade had seen her, she’d been exhausted, scruffy and fleeing dive-bombing bats.
She walked up the stairs to her porch and went into the house. She needed to come up with a casual but charming greeting, she thought. Something funny that Wade would—
Andi came to a stop in the center of what had been the entryway and stared. She was pretty sure her mouth had dropped open, but she couldn’t confirm the reaction. The shock was too great.
She didn’t have a house anymore. There were outside walls and a staircase going to the second floor, yet little else remained.
All the interior walls were gone. There were still a few studs in place, probably to keep the second and third floor from collapsing. There were a few windows, she noted, wondering if she should be grateful. She could see clear back through what had been the kitchen. The flooring was gone, as well.
“Don’t panic.”
She heard Wade before she saw him. He came around from behind the stairs and grinned.
“I swear, it’s going to be fine.”
“I think I’m more likely to faint than panic,” Andi admitted. “I can’t believe how much you got done in a day.”
“Isn’t it great? All our other jobs got delayed for one reason or another. Our entire team was here doing demo.”
“Lucky me.”
She was too shocked to do much more than take in his long legs and broad shoulders. The man looked good in jeans, she thought absently, telling herself she would appreciate his easy good looks later. When her heart had started beating again.
“I feel violated,” she admitted. That morning, she’d had a house. Now there was little more than a frame. Where did it go?
He put his hand on her arm. “Think of it as a good thing. The sooner everything is gone, the sooner we can get it put back together. Isn’t there a medical way for you to relate?”
“Only if we want to talk about my house in terms of it being an infection that has to be cut out.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to make me feel much better.” Andi dropped her purse on the bottom stair. “Is there more ripping apart to be done?”
“Just the part of the hardwood floor that has to come up. We’ll refinish it later.”
Andi knew they’d talked about saving the floor and reusing it in the attic. “I’m glad I wasn’t here to see the deconstruction.”
“It was loud.”
He sounded cheerful. It was probably easier when the home being destroyed wasn’t your own, she thought.
“Come on,” he said, motioning to the rear of the house. “Let me show you what we’re thinking about for the employee break room. If you’re still interested in the mini-kitchen.”
She followed him, her gaze dropping to his heretofore-mentioned butt. Laura was right, Andi thought, her gaze lingering. Wade’s was pretty darned nice. Must be all the physical labor he did in a day.
“We were thinking cabinets here, with a counter. Single sink, but a deep one, a refrigerator.”
He indicated where each item would go.
“Lockers on this wall and more storage under the window. That would give you a second, long counter if you have buffet-style work parties.”
“How do you know about work parties?” she asked, smiling at him. “Is there a lot of that in construction?”
“Sure. We like theme parties. You know, tropical getaway or a costume party at Halloween.” He winked at her. “My foreman likes to dress up like Marilyn Monroe.”
“Does he?”
Wade grinned. “We’ve done business remodelings before. It’s always a good idea to keep the employees happy, and the mini-kitchens are usually well received.”
“I like it.”
“Good.” He studied her for a second. “How are you settling in with Dr. Harrington? He driving you crazy talking about his son?”
“Does everyone know about that?”
“Pretty much. You should have seen the college graduation pictures from a few years back.”
“I’m doing well,” she said. “Everyone has been very friendly. I have lots of patients. There seems to be demand for a pediatrician around here.”
“Lucky for you. Did you always want to be a doctor?”
She thought about her family and how there hadn’t been much of a choice. “Pretty much.”
“Your parents must be proud.”
They were more disappointed than anything, she thought. But that was difficult to explain to people who didn’t know how she’d grown up. Those who weren’t acquainted with her family assumed that they thought she was smart and successful. She wasn’t going to admit to hunky Wade that when compared with what her parents and siblings had accomplished, she was something of a slacker.
“My mother would have liked me to be a surgeon,” she said, knowing that wasn’t exactly the truth. Her mother would have liked her to specialize even more than that.
“Someone needs to talk to her about her standards,” Wade said. “I have a daughter. She’s twelve. Right now she has a different career idea every week, but not once has she mentioned being a doctor. I’d sure be thrilled if she did.”
“She doesn’t have to decide for a while.”
“That’s true. She’s growing up too fast as it is.” His dark gaze settled on her face. “What’s it like to be the smartest person in the room?”
“I’m hardly that.”
“You are right now.”
She laughed. “You forget you rescued me from a wild bat. Being smart didn’t help with him. Or her. I didn’t get that close a look.”
“Me, either,” Wade said.
“Regardless, you’re my hero for that.”
“I like the idea of being someone’s hero. Remember that tomorrow morning when you walk downstairs and see all this. It’ll keep you from freaking out.”
Andi was less sure about that, but she would make the effort.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get home, but I didn’t want to leave until we’d spoken.”
“Afraid I’d run screaming into the night?”
“Just trust me on this, Andi. It’s going to get better. In a few weeks, you won’t recognize the place.”
“I do trust you,” she said, caught up in his words.
Oddly enough, she did trust Wade. Which made her an idiot. She’d trusted Matt and he’d left her standing at the altar. Not that Wade was like her fiancé. Nor were they dating. He was her contractor and...
“Andi?”
She blinked. “Sorry. I drifted.”
“I could tell. It’s sort of charming. Just don’t do it when you drive.”
“I’m very focused behind the wheel.”
He looked at her, as if he was going to say something else. “We should go out” would be nice. Or “I want to kiss you senseless and then make wild love to you” was an even better option, she thought hazily.
No, she reminded herself. She’d moved here to avoid the whole boy-girl disaster, remember? No men. Which meant no sex. Or at least no sex with anyone else. How depressing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He would what? Oh, right. “Sure. Tomorrow. Have a nice night.”
“You, too.”
He smiled and walked past her. She gave in to temptation and turned to watch him go. Yup, Laura had been right, she told herself. The man had a very fine butt. In fact, all of him was very nice.
Unfortunately, he had yet to show the slightest interest in her. Not even a flicker. Was it her? Matt had always been trying to change her. To get her to dress more sexy and act more wild. Should she have listened?
Did she have an aura only men could see saying she was boring? It wouldn’t surprise her. She hadn’t been very good at relationships back in high school. She’d struggled to maintain a straight-A average in college, which hadn’t left much free time. Then she’d met Matt the week before she started medical school. She didn’t exactly have a world of dating experience to fall back on.
Not that it mattered, she told herself, heading to the stairs. She was going man-free now. A single, self-actualized woman embarking on a bat-free adventure. That was her.
Still, she wouldn’t say no to Wade on the kissing front. If he happened to ever ask.
Chapter Seven
ANDI CHANGED HER clothes and went back downstairs to more closely inspect her naked house. The sun was still several hours from setting, and the air was stuffy. She opened the few windows that hadn’t been boarded shut, then went out front and sat on the porch.
From her newly favorite spot to quietly think, she couldn’t see the demolition. Instead she could imagine what it would be like when it was finished. The whole place painted, the yard restored... Both her neighbors had beautiful yards. She wasn’t looking to compete, but she needed her place to not be an embarrassment to the tiny neighborhood.
She’d nearly summoned the energy to start doing some research when a very large cat came out from around the side of her house and strolled toward her.
“Hello,” she said as the cat approached. “Who are you?”
The cat walked up the stairs and sat next to Andi, his or her expression expectant. The cat had on a collar. She reached for the tag.
“Pickles,” she said as she read the single word. “Not exactly a clear statement of gender. Hello, Pickles.”
She let the cat sniff her fingers, then stroked the animal’s face. Pickles leaned into her touch for a few seconds, then collapsed on the porch, as if settling in for a long petting session.
“Obviously you’re not afraid of people, are you?”
“That’s our cat.”
Andi glanced up and saw a girl standing by the stairs. She was probably nine or ten, with long blond hair and glasses framing her big blue eyes.
“Pickles?” Andi smiled. “That’s a fun name.”
“Madison named him, but she was just a baby. Mom says I was born then, but I don’t remember. I’m Lucy.”
“Hi, Lucy. I’m Andi Gordon. It’s nice to meet you.”
Lucy gave her a tentative smile as she eased forward. Andi shifted on the stairs to make room.
Andi remembered what she’d heard about Lucy’s mother at lunch. No one seemed especially fond of Deanna, which made Andi uncomfortable. She didn’t want to make assumptions about someone she’d never met. Maybe Deanna was just one of those prickly people with a good heart.
“I’m having a lot of work done on my house,” Andi said, then wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s not too loud.”
“I don’t think so. My mom hasn’t said anything.” The girl glanced up at her. “I’m glad you bought the house. It’s been lonely all by itself.”
“That’s what I thought, too. And the other houses are so pretty.”
“It’s hard to be in the middle.”
“Are you in the middle in your family?”
Lucy nodded, keeping her attention on the cat. “I have four sisters. I’m the second oldest. The youngest two are twins.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of girls. Twins can be a handful.”
“That’s what Mom says.” Lucy looked up again. “Mom wanted a boy, but we got Sydney and Savannah instead. I don’t think Daddy cared. He says he has the best girls.”
Andi smiled. “I’m sure he does. Who wouldn’t want a family like that?”
Lucy sighed. “My best friend moved away over spring break. Her dad got a job in Texas. She wants me to come visit this summer. Mom thinks I’m too young to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Andi told her. “It’s hard to lose a friend.” Especially in the middle of the school year, when all the social groups were already established. She wanted to say that Lucy would have an easier time in the fall, but to a girl her age, September must be a lifetime away.
Lucy nodded. She pushed up her glasses. “My mom’s been crying a lot,” she said in a low voice. “In her room, so we’re not supposed to know.”
Andi winced. “That must be difficult.”
“It is. Madison says Daddy should leave her and take us with him, but I don’t want that. I want to stay here. Like it is.” She hesitated. “Maybe a little better.”
Andi wanted to pull the girl close and hug her. Lucy was obviously going through a lot. But they didn’t know each other, and she wasn’t sure the show of support would be welcome.
“It’s hard when moms cry,” she said instead. “When my mom cried, I always felt anxious inside. Like my tummy wasn’t right.”
Lucy stared at her. “I know. It’s almost like I want to throw up.”
“Sometimes parents can work things out.”
“I hope so.” Lucy looked at her house. “It’s going to be dinner soon and I can’t be late.” She scooped up Pickles and stood.
“Thanks for coming by,” Andi told her. “Come over anytime.”
Lucy flashed a smile that shifted her face from ordinary to luminous. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Andi watched her go. When the girl disappeared around the corner, she turned her attention to the beautiful house. Every family had secrets, she thought. Some were scarier than others. She hoped that whatever Deanna and her husband had going on, they got it resolved before the situation put more stress on their girls.
* * *
Boston watched Lucy scamper back to her house, Pickles draped over her shoulder. That cat deserved a special reward in kitty heaven, she thought as she crossed the lumpy weed-filled lawn toward Andi’s house. Not only did he let the girls drag him around like a rag doll, but he submitted to being dressed in ridiculous outfits. Hats, even.
“Hi,” she called as she approached.
Andi turned and saw her. “Hi yourself.”
Boston raised the basket she carried. “I heard the entire crew was in your house today, basically destroying it. I thought you might be traumatized.”
Andi stood and walked down the stairs. “I am. Honestly, I’m a little afraid to go back inside.”
Boston handed her the basket. “Comfort food. Mac and cheese, a green salad and a bottle of nice chardonnay.” She grinned. “Personally, I’d start with the wine.”
Andi glanced at the basket she held. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you. It’s so nice.”
“You’re welcome. I’m excited to have a neighbor.” Technically she and Deanna were neighbors, but they’d never been close. Or friendly. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why. They’d lived on the same street for years.
She supposed part of the problem was that Deanna made it clear she disapproved of Boston in nearly every way possible. For her part, Boston would admit to a little smugness where Deanna was concerned.
“I’ve lived through construction,” Boston continued. “It’s not fun. Just try to remember that it’s worth it in the end.”
“I will.” Andi motioned to the porch. “I don’t have much in the way of furniture. Want to have a seat here for a second or do you have to get back?”
“I’ll join you for a bit. Zeke will be home soon and he always loves it when I make mac and cheese.” She settled on a stair.
Andi did the same. “I was thinking about the yard,” she said. “I’ve never been much of a gardener, but I guess I have to start soon.”
“It’s prime growing season,” Boston told her. “There’s a nursery in town. I can get you the name of a woman who works there. She does landscaping on the side.”
“You and my other neighbor have set a pretty high standard,” Andi said with a grin. “I don’t want to let the neighborhood down.”
“You won’t.”
Boston studied the other woman. Light and shadow played across her face, highlighting her bone structure. She was pretty, Boston thought, more interested in shapes and forms than what the world considered attractive. Andi’s hair, a tumbling mass of curls, would be difficult to capture on canvas. But her eyes—a brilliant green—would draw people in.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a reasonably priced decorator, would you?” Andi asked. “I’m going to need some help pulling together the office. I want bright colors and a welcoming space. Going to the doctor can be scary for kids. I want them to feel comfortable when they come to see me.”
Boston thought about the floor plan of Andi’s house and the plans Zeke had shown her for the remodeling. “A mural,” she said automatically, seeing a jungle scene on the wall. “Bright colors that can flow through to the other rooms. Blues and greens with pops of reds and yellows. A jungle. Birds. Big parrots. Maybe fish in a river and large cats with eyes that glow.”
She paused. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
“Don’t be sorry, I love it. I’m great with the medical end of things. I’ve ordered the equipment. What I don’t know how to do is the waiting area and the front office. Also, there’s going to be a long hallway.”
“You could do a different animal on every door,” Boston said, feeling a surge of creative enthusiasm. “Pick a flooring with a green tone to carry through the jungle theme. If you want to go that way.”
Zeke’s truck pulled into the driveway next door. Andi glanced at it, then back at her.
“I would love to talk about this some more, another time. Would you be open to that?”
“Sure. It would be a fun project. I can give you some ideas, maybe draw a few sketches.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in giving me a price for a mural?” Andi asked. “I’ve seen your work in your house and it’s beautiful.”
Boston hesitated. She hadn’t done much more than a few textile projects in months. Her days were spent in other ways. Designing and then painting a mural would be a challenge. Zeke would tell her it would be good for her to get out of her rut. To let the project take her away.
“Let me think about it,” Boston murmured, coming to her feet. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”
A complete lie, but it offered her a safe retreat if the idea of the mural overwhelmed her. She knew if she accepted the job, she would have to see it through. That would be pressure, and these days she still felt breakable. That’s what loss had done to her—left her as fragile as spun glass.
“Either way, I’m happy to talk about the color scheme for your office,” she said.
“That would be great.” Andi stood. “Thank you. And thanks for dinner.”
“Enjoy.” Boston went down the stairs and started for home.
Zeke stood by his truck, waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her.
“Making nice with the new neighbor?”
“I took her some dinner.”
His brown eyes brightened with anticipation. “Mac and cheese?”
“Yes. It’s in the oven.”
He swept her into his arms and pulled her close. “This is why I stay married to you. For the pasta.”
She let herself sink into him, into the familiar combination of strength and heat. In that moment, all was well and she could breathe. Could almost forget that she might shatter at any moment.
Then they would fight, because they fought often these days. Anger was Zeke’s way of trying to get through to her. She wouldn’t engage and he would leave. After he left, she would paint and eventually he made his way home. Their life had become uneven. Like a wagon with one square wheel. She was aware of the cycle, but unsure how to break it without destroying the only thing that held them together.
* * *
Deanna scanned the small paintbrush and then jabbed the quantity into the computer. The Wednesday shipment had been bigger than usual, with several special orders and an entire display of yarn for Christmas.
It was May, she thought as she picked up the second brush and scanned it. Did people really need to be thinking about Christmas now?
She knew the answer. Crafters started early and anyone looking to knit a sweater or scarf or whatever for the holidays would, in fact, be working on it over the summer. She usually liked how the inventory of Cozy Crafts heralded the coming seasons. In truth today, everything was getting on her nerves.
She hated Colin. That was the real problem. She’d spent most of the past two nights lying awake, mentally calling him names. She’d also made detailed lists of everything she’d ever done for him. Everything he never noticed or appreciated.
Like her weight. She weighed exactly what she had on the day they’d gotten married. Four pregnancies, five babies and not an ounce different. Unlike Boston, who’d put on thirty pounds over her pregnancy and had never bothered to take it off.
Deanna kept up on current events. She understood the oil crisis, could speak intelligently on current issues and attended local school board meetings. She was well read. She took excellent care of her house and her family. She baked bread, shopped organic and made nearly every damn bite of food they put in their mouths.
And her thanks for that? Rejection. Dismissal. Threats.
She finished adding the new delivery to inventory and set out the brushes. She sorted the yarn and quickly started a holiday display.
Cozy Crafts was on the west side of the island, next to Island Chic, a clothing store. The clientele consisted of both tourists and locals. Deanna taught scrapbooking, basic quilting and basic knitting. She coordinated the other instructors. She’d been the one to convince Boston to give an introductory painting class two years ago. The class that had led to an article in a national travel magazine. But did any of that matter to Colin?
She glanced toward the windows at the front of the store and thought briefly about tossing a chair through the glass. Not that the action would help her current situation, but she had to do something. Every part of her hurt. She was frustrated and scared and angry.
Divorce. The very thought of it made her whole body clench. She didn’t want to be divorced. She didn’t want the stigma, the struggle. She didn’t want the pity or the gloating.
Without wanting to, she remembered her mother standing in the middle of the horrible little kitchen of their disgusting, dirty house.
“Make sure when you marry a man, you keep him,” the other woman had said. “Ain’t nothing worse than being without a man.”
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