Did her sister have dreams she’d never shared? Ones she felt she’d been forced to sacrifice in order to give her younger sister a shot at success?
If so, Lauren had never mentioned them.
But she might have if that younger sister had ever managed to engage her in a discussion about the rift between them.
A moot point now.
Nevertheless, if Charley’s take was accurate, unfulfilled aspirations—along with her bitterness over the sacrifices Dad had made that she’d intimated had led to a premature death—could be fueling Lauren’s resentment.
Devyn’s temples began to throb.
“You know, worrying about the past doesn’t change it.”
At Charley’s gentle comment, she refocused on him. “I know.”
“It seems to me that the best way to overcome the past is to put our energy into creating a better future.”
“That sounds reasonable in theory, but both parties would have to cooperate.”
“May I offer a piece of advice?”
“Please.”
“Give your sister a chance to adjust to your presence. Until she does, show her you care. Love is a powerful force that can soften hearts—and work miracles.”
She shook her head. “It may take a miracle for the two of us to reconnect.”
“They do happen.” Charley straightened up. “Hang in, Devyn. Persistence pays—as you know from your career.” He looked past her. “Speaking of persistence...”
She turned, but the wharf was deserted.
When she angled back toward Charley, he grinned. “I guess Floyd and Gladys weren’t around on your last visit. They’re my seagull buddies.”
Once again, she swiveled around.
Ten feet away, two gulls landed in a flutter of wings and cuddled up beside each other.
Lips twitching, she transferred her attention back to Charley. “You have interesting friends.”
“I do indeed. Those two are quite a pair. Seagulls mate for life, you know, and after Floyd lost his wife a while back, he was devastated. But then Gladys came along. At first Floyd wasn’t interested, but she persisted. And lo and behold, in the end, she gave him a new lease on life. Now the two of them are inseparable.”
“Nice story.”
“Yes, it is. I like happy endings.” He opened a cooler and pulled out two fish fillets. Held them up. “Can I make you an order of tacos? Halibut’s in season.”
“Absolutely. I dream about your fish tacos.”
“Music to a taco maker’s ears.”
While he put the fish on the grill, counted out three corn tortillas, and began chopping red onion, he kept the conversation flowing, interspersing his questions about her life in New York with news about all the changes in Hope Harbor since her last visit.
As he wrapped the three overstuffed tacos in white paper and slid them into a brown bag, she pulled out her wallet. “I see you haven’t yet entered the electronic age.” She pointed to the “cash only” sign in the window.
“Why complicate a simple transaction?” He set the bag on the counter. “I can give you a bottle of water, but if you have a few minutes to spare, may I recommend that you take your tacos to The Perfect Blend and get a coffee to go with them? The shop’s one of the newer businesses in town, and the atmosphere is very relaxing.”
Relaxing fit the bill.
“Sold.”
