“I learned that when I don’t,somepeople will just take whatever they want from me.”
Nora opened her mouth to retort.
“Stop.” Maddy held up a hand. “Please, can we just call a truce or something? You don’t want to kiss and make up—fine. But I refuse to hang out in this minefield between the two of you for days on end.”
There was a long, awkward pause while Nora looked everywhere but at her sisters.
Emma gave a self-righteous sniff.
“Fine by me,” Nora said finally.
“Of course it’s fine by you. You’re not the one who—”
“Emma,” Maddy said sternly. “You can go back to hating each other when we’re finished. For now, let’s just handle business, all right? For Gram.” And for her own sanity, though she didn’t say that.
Emma pursed her lips. “Fine.”
The doorbell rang, and Maddy knew a convenient escape when she heard it. “I’ll get that. Why don’t you two make a plan on how to tackle all this, and I’ll bring garbage bags back with me—we’re going to need plenty of them.”
She took the attic stairs, feeling a little cowardly. Oh well. Let the two of them sort this out. Hopefully by the time she got back there’d be a nice frosty silence, and they could work in peace. Maybe they’d have a super-productive morning. And maybe Maddy could keep an analytical frame of mind as she sorted through her parents’ things and not be pulled into the emotional riptide of the past.
When she opened the front door, there was no one there. A small brown box sat on the porch. She went out into the already sultry morning and picked it up. It wasn’t Gram’s name on the address label, but Connor Sullivan’s.
She looked toward his cottage. The morning sun cast a long shadow over the front of his house. She couldn’t tell if he was home, as his driveway was on the other side.
Given the hour he’d been rolling in the last few nights, though, he was likely still in bed. She’d walk the package over and leave it on his porch. He’d never even know it had been left here by mistake.
Maddy went back inside, slipped on her sandals, then grabbed the box. The package was light, and the contents didn’t bump around inside as she took the porch steps. The sender—a Tara Duval from Whiteville, North Carolina—had drawn two red hearts beside Connor’s name.
Maddy rolled her eyes. Maybe it was his girlfriend, and the long trip back and forth is what kept him out so late.
The ground between the cottages was sandy and unlevel, hospitable only to clumps of tall grass, sea oats, and the scrubby blanket of red firewheel. A fresh breeze of salty air filled her nostrils and tugged on her long hair.
She had to admit the warmth of the sun felt good on her skin. When she’d been a young girl she’d played on the beach for hours a day, her skin turning deep golden brown, her nose freckling in a way she’d hated.
She’d been envious of the way the sun had browned Emma’s freckle-free skin. And Nora, always cowering in the shade, had been jealous of them both.
Connor’s house was quiet as she approached. She walked silently up the porch steps and set the package on his welcome mat, avoiding the large picture window on the far side of the door.
But as she straightened, a movement caught her eye. The deep shade of the porch made it easy to see inside, and she spied someone. Maddy’s gaze sharpened on a woman who seemed to be kneeling in prayer, her full torso lowered to the floor, arms extended forward. But then she changed positions, easing her rear end skyward into what Maddy realized was a downward dog position.
As the woman came upright, eyes closed, Maddy had a silhouette view. She quickly took in a lithe figure, ponytailed blond hair, and a fresh, young face that put her in her early twenties.
Maddy edged away from the window and down the steps before the woman—or worse, Connor—could spot her peering through the window. How embarrassing would that be?
She treaded carefully across the sandy terrain. The woman must’ve come home with Connor the night before. Maddy had heard his car pull in well after midnight while she’d been lying in bed trying to go to sleep. She seemed too young for Connor, whom Maddy placed in his midthirties.
She thought of the box she’d left on the porch and wondered how the young woman would respond if she discovered the package, so obviously from another woman who was smitten with Connor.
Oh well, she thought. That was Connor’s problem, not hers. Heaven knew she had enough of her own.
***
A loud thump pulled Connor from a sound slumber. He squinted at the clock and saw it was just past nine. He’d managed to sleep in on his day off.
Correction: morning off. Monday was the marina’s slowest day, and he routinely left his capable staff to manage the docks. The same couldn’t be said of the restaurant, however.
When Cheryl had said there was no one she could consider leaving in charge, she hadn’t been kidding. And while Monday wasn’t a particularly busy day, problems seemed to manifest when he wasn’t there to oversee things. Plus, he needed to make the next week’s schedule and be there for deliveries.
