She pushed out the front door, and the mugginess of the air outside hit her like a wall. The heat and misery contrasted with the peaceful harbor that stretched out its green-blue waters before her. Beyond lay Lake Superior, an endless expanse of wavy blue, large enough to rival an ocean. The golden morningsky painted the sand and street and town pier with a yellow brush, and the gulls above called out against the sound of gently lapping waves.
She might not have had a choice about leaving the emerald slopes and sparkling sea of County Mayo, but she could hardly complain about replacing the view from her childhood home with the one from Eagle Harbor.
She hurried along Front Street, taking a last final glance at the water before she turned away and started down Center Street, where the bakery lay three blocks ahead. She’d been in such a rush to find the sheriff earlier, she’d not even left a note for Ellie about where she’d be or why she’d left. Hopefully Ellie wasn’t too far behind with the morning’s baking. And hopefully she could make up the two hours she’d spent with the deputy. She needed to be working more hours, not fewer.
“Aileen Brogan, stop right there.”
Aileen slowed and turned toward the female voice, but no one was in the street. All she could see was the large Sinclair family mansion towering over the town. Who had?—?
“I’ll be down in a flash,” the voice called again. A flurry of auburn hair and yellow dress disappeared from one of the mansion’s second-story windows.
Aileen couldn’t stop her smile. Looked like Rebekah Cummings—or rather, Rebekah Sinclair—had returned. If only the woman had stayed in the window longer, then she’d have told Rebekah to meet her at the bakery. But Rebekah had never been good at standing still for more than two seconds.
Aileen looked toward the bakery, then back at the elaborate gray mansion with fancy gables and trim. She didn’t have time to wait. Should she just go to the bakery and hope Rebekah found her?
The front door opened, and out stepped Gilbert Sinclair. Despite the early hour, his three-piece suit was immaculate, hisshoes polished to perfection, and his blond hair slicked down and perfectly pomaded until it was almost glossy beneath the morning sun.
“Aileen, is my wife shouting you down in the middle of the road?” A gentle smile tilted the corner of his mouth, and his angel blue eyes danced. He reached for her hand, then bent and pressed his lips to it. “I fear she lost all semblance of manners the second we disembarked from the ship last night.”
Aileen grinned, even if she tugged her hand back a little quicker than was proper. Had Gilbert really been successful in teaching Rebekah manners? She could only imagine how those lessons had gone.
“I didn’t know ye were back, so I don’t mind her calling out to me, except that I’m late for work. Can ye tell Rebekah to?—?”
“Aileen.” The slam of the mansion’s door reverberated through the still morning, and Rebekah strode straight toward where she stood with Gilbert. “Good to see you.”
Aileen blinked. It was rather odd seeing a woman who’d had trouble wearing the simple serving uniform skirt the Sinclairs had required in Chicago, now swathed in a fancy yellow dress made of fine fabric. Though admittedly, the dress did lack the puffed sleeves, ruffles, and flounces that adorned most rich women’s clothes. And Rebekah’s deep auburn hair was pulled back into a thick braid that looked like something a woman in a plain gingham dress would wear.
Rebekah drew her into a hug—though hug might be too mild of a description, seeing how Rebekah’s arms clamped around her as tight and hard as iron fetters. True, they’d not seen each other since Rebekah had married almost a year ago, but that didn’t mean the woman had to crush the breath from her.
Then, as quickly as the hug started, it was finished. Rebekah leaned back studying her, eyes narrowed as they ran from thetop of her head down to her hem and back up again. “You look too thin. Have you been eating enough?”
Had she? Aileen glanced down at herself. “I… don’t know.”
But her skirt did seem a little loose, now that she thought about it.
Rebekah’s brow knit. “Your letters made it seem like you were faring well enough.”
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly. A bittooquickly. She was certainly trying to be fine, though the news she’d received from Ireland this past week hadn’t helped. Aileen looked back at her friend—or at least the closest thing she had to a friend since coming to America. “And how have ye been?”
“Away too long.” Rebekah scanned the street, then peered down the road toward the harbor. “I suppose Elijah’s left for the day already? I wanted to fish with him this morning, but someone here forgot to wake me up before dawn.” Rebekah jabbed her elbow into Gilbert’s side.
“Yes, I completely forgot, darling. Maybe I’ll do a better job of remembering on a day when you’ve had more than four hours of sleep.” He dropped a quick kiss onto his wife’s forehead. “But you do look lovely this morning, even with this.” He tugged on her braid.
Judging by the glare Rebekah gave him, the tug hadn’t been all that gentle. “The maid took too long.”
“You’ve not been in Eagle Harbor a full day, and already you’re turning into a hooligan.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow at Rebekah, the gesture oozing with the arrogance of society’s upper crust.
“That’s because hooligans have more fun, isn’t that right, Aileen?” Rebekah winked in her direction.
“I… ah…” Aileen twisted her hands. Being a hooligan hadn’t turned out all that well for her brother Conan. But then, she doubted Rebekah had ever been a true hooligan.
Rebekah narrowed her eyes at something down the street. Then a smile broke across her face, as wide and brilliant as the sun at noonday. “There’s Isaac. I’ll be right back.”
Making no effort to take dainty steps the way most women of her station would, Rebekah strode toward her brother, Sheriff Cummings, who was headed in their direction. A few seconds later, she threw herself into her twin brother’s arms, pushed up onto her toes to place a kiss on his cheek, then wrapped her arms around him for a long hug.
Gilbert sighed and rubbed at his temple. “Maybe one day I can convince her not to clobber people on the street.”
Aileen coughed. “Good luck with that one. I count it success enough ye got her into a dress.”
