“But Ollie, it’s Sunday. You said we were going to the park,” Robbie pouted, kicking up whorls of dust in the dirt path hugging the banks of Lake Washington.
“And we will.” She placed both hands on his shoulders and propelled him forward. “After we call on Mr. Anderson.”
“How do you know he’s home?”
“If he isn’t, then we’ll leave our thank-you note and carry on.”
The Beckets might lack many things, but manners were not one of them. And Emil had been so terribly kind to them, so generous with his time and money. To Robbie, especially. Her brother had been so happy in the park, eating his Cracker Jack and telling Emil all about the three-legged dog on their block. In fact, he’d rhapsodized about Emil for so long that evening before bed that Anna had taken Olive aside and demanded to know if he was her beau. Olive had stammered objections until she was out of breath, but her mother had only given her a knowing look and fallen silent. And Olive had gone to sleep with a refrain echoing in her dreams:
I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.
A wooden sign marked the entrance to the floating house community. Olive peered down the steps, her brow furrowing at the discovery of a dozen homes clustered together. The way Emil had spoken of it, she’d gotten the sense his home was isolated. Safe from prying eyes for the handful of minutes it would take to deliver a note. Now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she should have sent it by post, the small cost aside. Or it could have waited until they next met up to continue the investigation. Or?—
“Mornin’, miss,” a booming voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. An older, thin man with silver hair dressed in a tweed suit and flat cap stepped onto the path before them. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Good morning,” she murmured, charmed by the slight Irish lilt in his words.
“We don’t get many visitors this time of year. My name’s Seán Meany. Can I help you find someone?”
“We’re looking for the home of Mr. Anderson.”
“Ah, Emil, the young rogue.”
“He’s the one,” Robbie assured him.
Olive swatted her brother’s arm. “Be respectful.”
The man laughed loudly. “The sight of you warms my blood, so it does. Your sister reminds me of my own sister Aisling. She was always giving out to me and her husband. When she wasn’t hurling cans of boiling water from the windows, that is.”
Olive froze. Surely, she hadn’t heard correctly.
“Boiling water?” Robbie echoed. “Why did she do that?”
“Because the greedy landlords were coming to evict, that’s why. The whole village was in on it.”
“Did you see a fight? Was anyone blasted to smithereens?—”
“That’s enough.” She grasped Robbie’s arm tightly. “Please excuse my brother’s rudeness.”
“Not to worry. I have plenty of tales for anyone who will bend me an ear.” Her unease must have been obvious, for he gave her a wink and added, “But you’re busy looking for your young man.”
Why did everyone seem to think Emil was hers? “Oh, but he isn’t?—”
“Head down the boardwalk past the fearsome seagulls, and continue all the way to the house on the left. There you’ll find himself.”
“Thank you, sir. Come along, Robbie.”
But when they arrived at the address the man had indicated, Olive’s feet remained rooted to the boardwalk. She’d insisted they were there to thank Emil, but now, faced with the reality of her decision, she admitted it was all a big, fat lie.
She was there because she’d spent sleepless nights reliving every word, touch, and nuance of those brief moments when she’d tended to his injury. Their lips had been so close. His skin against her palm so warm. His eyes so intent and devouring.
I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.
What if she was making a mistake? What if Emil wasn’t happy to see them? What if he dismissed her brother and broke his little heart? What if he looked at her with confusion? Or worse, like she was just another silly woman who’d fallen prey to his charm? Oh no, what was she doing?
“We should leave—Robbie, no!”
He slipped from her grip and sprang onto the deck to rap an enthusiastic rhythm on the door. Olive cringed, her hands fluttering at her sides. Was there still time to grab Robbie, sling him over her back like he was a child again, and bolt? Moments passed, yet the door remained closed.
