Lucy shot her a gratified look. She’d only got to know Jen well recently since she’d returned home after years away but Lucy was liking her big sister more each day.
‘Why?’ asked Ellie, looking at Jen this time.
‘Because, Ellie,’ said Jen with a little bit of impatience, ‘she values her independence and doesn’t want us trailing after her to make sure she’s all right.’ She looked at Lucy. ‘Right?’
‘Right,’ confirmed Lucy.
‘And, if you need our support, you know where to find us. OK?’ This time Jen came up to Lucy, gently brushed her hair off her face and asked again. ‘OK?’ Lucy’s heart warmed to see her big sister’s kindness and love shining in her eyes.
She smiled and nodded. ‘Definitely OK,’ she said, kissing Jen on the cheek.
‘Right then, Ellie, let’s go,’ said Jen. She turned at the door. ‘Ellie?’
But Ellie hadn’t moved. She had a complex look on her face and for a moment Lucy wondered if the bolshiest of her siblings had felt a little left out by this demonstration of affection.
Ellie bit her lip and nodded. ‘I’m coming.’ She stopped in front of Lucy. ‘You know I’m proud of you, sis, right? And I’ll be here if you need me. Because I’m not going anywhere.’
Lucy nodded, but wondered what Ellie meant. But before she could question her, Ellie had grabbed Jen and they’d exited the apartment, leaving Lucy wondering what was going on. She’d find out later. She had her own battles to fight first. Because, despite what she thought, it seemed they weren’t yet over.
Chapter Fifteen
It had been a long week, and Oliver had filled every hour of it with work — fielding furious calls from investors, fronting up to meetings he’d once been too powerful to dread, and navigating the maze of approvals needed to reverse course on the Old Colonial. It was humiliating work, the kind he’d built a career on avoiding, but he didn’t stop. He’d seen himself through Lucy’s eyes and hadn’t liked the man staring back. Saving the hotel wouldn’t redeem what he’d done to her trust, but it was the one decision he could live with.
Back in MacLeod’s Cove the emptied hotel felt strangely alive. Afternoon sun poured through the tall windows, catching dust motes and the worn curve of the bar. Outside, tui warbled in the garden, bowls clicked next door, and children’s voices drifted from the crèche down the road. Oliver had intended to start sorting the old books and papers for Kate’s family, but instead he sat in a cracked leather chair and let the quiet settle over him. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to feel the truth beneath the drive and bravado: he was tired — bone-deep tired — of fighting, of winning, of being the man who never stopped moving. And he was sad. Deeply, unexpectedly sad.
The rattle of the front door broke the silence. He frowned and glanced at the small security monitor he’d had installed in preparation for the deliveries due from tomorrow.
Lucy stood just outside the entrance, bright against the shadowy porch in her white shirt and blonde hair. He watched her press a hand to the glass and peer in, jaw set, posture as direct as he remembered. Such a mix: beauty and bluntness, delicacy and stubborn strength. He would miss sparring with her. More than that, he’d miss simply being in the same room.
He’d wondered if she’d hear the rumours. He hadn’t told anyone who didn’t need to know; he wasn’t doing this for her, and he knew there was nothing he could do now that would redeem him in her eyes. But she must have put the pieces together.
Then she turned away.
No doubt it was just as well. They had nothing left to say to each other. He switched off the remaining lights and walked through to the back, drawn outside by the heavy, warm air. Out here he could breathe more easily. Inside, all week, he’d felt caught in a sticky web of his own making, panicked by how closely his tactics had echoed his father’s underhand methods. He’d spent years convincing himself he was different. It had taken MacLeod’s Cove — Lucy — to show him that, left unchecked, he wasn’t.
He wasn’t free of that legacy yet, but he’d made a start. The partially cleared garden still bore the scars of neglect, but beneath the broken pallets and old kegs he could see its bones. It reminded him of Lucy’s café garden, though this one hadn’t felt care in decades. It would again. He’d see to that, even if he never saw the finished result.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the garden gate squeak. Only footsteps on the path alerted him. Someone moved through the tangle of overgrown shrubs, then stopped just behind his shoulder.
‘I didn’t imagine I’d find you in the garden,’ Lucy said quietly.
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The sight of her brought that familiar lump to his throat, a reminder that losing her was entirely his own fault. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and fisted them to make sure he didn’t reach for her.
‘Not much of a garden at the moment,’ he managed, clearing his throat. ‘It must have been once.’ He nodded towards a brilliantly flowering creeper hanging from the first floor. ‘Before it was turned into a beer garden, by the look of things. Then a dumping ground.’
‘Shame,’ she said, glancing around. ‘But I don’t suppose you care now, do you? You’ve won.’
He braced, ready to fall back on the old party line. ‘I’m not in the business of caring.’
She scoffed. ‘That much is obvious.’
The sadness inside him cooled to stone. It was easier that way.
‘Why are you here, Lucy?’ he asked.
‘Because my sisters said something weird was going on with the hotel, and I wanted to see for myself.’ She met his gaze squarely. ‘They’ve heard rumours you’re not knocking it down after all.’
So the jungle drums had started up quicker than he’d hoped. He’d imagined he’d be gone before word spread. And yet here she was.
