When the bread was out of the oven, cooled, wrapped, and ready for breakfast, Annie put Bella in the car seat she kept in her Jeep and drove to Earl and Claire’s. He was outside, pulling weeds from the garden while Claire stood by, instructing.
With shoulders squared, chin elevated with what she hoped looked like authority, and Bella riding on her hip, Annie walked over and to Earl and announced, “I’ve decided that your services will be best utilized if you are not sleeping on the floor above the workshop.”
He stopped weeding and stared at her. He did, indeed, look a mite haggard. “I disagree. Someone has to stay there.”
“Which is what I intend to do. As long as you lend me a sleeping bag. Bella will sleep in the cottage with me tonight, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if she stayed here for a few days? Maybe while Simon’s at the Inn?” She knew it was a lot to ask—a few days with a two-year-old could test the most well-meaning people, let alone older ones who were accustomed to a more serene life. “I really want to give Francine a break. And you. I don’t want you to show up at the Inn unless you’re summoned.”
Claire reached over and rubbed Bella’s arm. “Oh, my, of course we’ll take her. What I wouldn’t give to have this precious one back in our house!”
Right, Annie thought. Earl and Claire were a different breed of older people. They were islanders who took care of their own and, often, everyone else’s. “She no longer needs the crib,” Annie said. “She’ll be fine in the travel bed Francine brought from Minnesota. But tonight, she’s all mine. We’ll stay in the cottage and maybe make cookies.”
“Cookies!” Bella said, and everyone laughed, and Annie knew that she’d done the right thing.
Perhaps the most important thing Annie had learned since moving to the island was that sometimes people simply had to step up for one another.
He was awakened by a sweet scent of wild orchids wafting through the window’s louvered shutters. The last two days had been unimaginable, almost dreamlike. Maybe it was due to the rum punch, or maybe it was because of her—the woman who lay beside him now, her amazing auburn mane splayed across the now-wrinkled white bedsheets like incoming waves over the soft sands of low tide.
If Kevin told anyone, no one would believe that two days earlier marked the first time he’d slept with Taylor, the first time they’d had real, honest-to-God, passionate sex that had made him crazy with desire as that thicket of auburn heaven had swept every which way over every inch of him until the wee hours.
Until then, it had been nearly four years since Kevin had made love. In all that time, he never thought he’d want to again. And he had not. Until two nights ago. When the rum punch and the scent of those wild orchids and thathair—the same hair she used to hide under knit, woolen hats—and those long legs and that lean-muscled, temptress body—that she used to conceal in jeans and quilted vests—had done all the work that he never dreamed he’d once again be capable of. Not until he’d left not only Boston, but the whole damn Northeast, including, God help him, Martha’s Vineyard.
And though he knew full well he was acting like a stupid, horny kid, he could not seem to stop himself.
So he rolled toward her again and dove, again, into her warm, welcoming space.
Chapter 8
Tuesday morning arrived, and with it came rain. Lots and lots of rain. Which meant that everyone was moving slowly and had stayed inside. Only Mary Beth had disappeared, having ventured into the torrents.
The others lingered at the table, happily picking at “one more” slice of cranberry bread and having “one more” cup of tea or coffee, all the while sharing stories of kayaking and restaurants and disagreeing with good humor over which shops up at the cliffs carried the most unique handcrafted treasures.
Annie was grateful that Earl had stopped by early and whisked Bella away, though the night before had been wonderful. Annie had made chicken and veggie meatballs with homemade marinara sauce that Bella had devoured; they’d baked chocolate chip cookies and shared a giant one while it was still warm from the oven. Then Annie read the story of the little mermaid, and Bella fell asleep in Annie’s lap. It was perfect.
Things were not perfect now. She checked her watch—ten thirty, only one hour until Simon’s plane landed. She willed herself not to wring her hands or drum her fingers on the artisanal wood table. Finally, she interrupted one of the Indiana sisters (Toni and Ginny Taft—Toni was a retired flight attendant, and Ginny had been a schoolteacher—though Annie had trouble remembering who was who). “I have a small request,” she said. “As everyone knows, this is the second biggest, if not the biggest week on the Vineyard. People from all over the planet will be here. Well, not here at the Inn, exactly, though we’ve been asked to squeeze in a couple of extra guests. Francine is taking today off to gear up for the rest of the week.”
She smiled in an effort to reassure everyone that they’d still be well looked after.
“So I need to ask our guests a favor,” Annie continued. “If you’d like your sheets changed today, would you mind doing it yourself? And if you need clean towels, would you please help yourself from the linen room upstairs? I hate to impose, but after I clean up the kitchen, I have to make an airport run . . .”
Her stomach tightened as she waited for someone to say something. Anything.
Then the honeymoon bride stood up. “My husband would be delighted to take part in domestic duties,” she said with a toothy grin.
Then he stood, too. “If my wife agrees to wash dishes, I’ll be honored to dry.”
“And we’ll put them away,” one of the sisters said. “Tidying up is our pastime. Besides, there’s nothing else to do today. We hate going out in the rain.”
Annie bit her lip to stop tears from rising. “Thank you . . .”
Then Greg Collins, a carpenter and one of the year-round tenants, said, “I don’t know what’s left, but I’ll help, too. Vacuuming is my specialty.”
Then the other residents—Harlin Pierce, the waiter/mariachi bandleader, and Marty and Luke Amanti, the pair of Edgartown Elementary School teachers—pitched in with offers to dust and mop, as if each was trying to outdo the other. And Annie could not help but laugh.
“Okay,” she said, “Okay. Thank you all so much. I’ll think of a way to make it up to all of you.”
“No,” the bride said, “this is our way of thanking you for having such a wonderful Inn. Jack and I already decided that we’ll come back every year.
“We only got here yesterday, but already I don’t want our visit to end,” Toni or Ginny said. “We’ll clear the table, Annie, so you can get to the airport. Come on, everyone, let’s get started. This will be fun.”
