She wondered if Kevin would be there to give her away.
She was pissed; he knew it.
But his sister had no right to try and run his life—did she?
He sipped a Diet Coke and munched on little pretzels while he studied the screen on the seatback in front of him. The miniature outline of the plane looked to be over Chicago. Maui was a long way from there, but at least he wasn’t hyperventilating the way he used to do when Meghan was buckled up in the seat next to him.
Meghan.
He closed his eyes and tried to think about the woman who was waiting for him in Maui instead of thinking about her.
Chapter 2
“You’re back!” a familiar voice rang out.
Annie snapped out of her daydream and into her role as innkeeper.
Francine was on the patio, balanced on a lounge chair. Her ebony hair was pinned atop her head; her sleeveless denim minidress was protected by a canvas apron, which, though clean, was splashed with permanent badges of her delectable creations in the kitchen. A silver colander sat next to her—it was mounded with plump blueberries.
“Guilty.” Annie spotted Bella, her little body huddled on her colorful play rug, her hands busily matching blocks of different shapes into corresponding holes that Earl had die-cut into the walls of a purple wooden castle that he’d somehow found time to build. When Bella saw Annie, she stood on wobbly, toddler legs, and cried, “Annie!” She held out her chubby arms, and Annie happily scooped up the two-year-old.
“Hello, sweet girl. Did you pick blueberries today?”
Bella nodded and nestled her soft cheek against Annie’s neck. And Annie’s heart glowed, if such a thing really were possible.
“Blueberry scones tomorrow morning,” Francine said. “Our guests seem to like them.”
“Yum,” Annie said.
“Yummm,” Bella echoed.
“So, you got Kevin there okay?”
“I did. He’s well on his way to Hawaii by now.”Enough said, Annie thought. There was no need to share her displeasure. “How were things here today?”
“Fine. The couple in room six checked out. It’s cleaned and ready, but I’m still waiting for the woman who reserved it to show up. No rush, though. She’ll be here for two weeks. She sent a cashier’s check for the whole amount, so that’s great.” That had happened before; Earl said not everybody liked paying by credit card and having all their financial information floating around in outer space. “Tomorrow the bird-watching couple from Amherst will be leaving, but that room’s reserved for Monday—two sisters from Indiana—so I have a day to get it ready. And the honeymooners will be here another week.”
Francine had proven adept at shuffling and juggling and making sure that everyone was happy and settled and treated to special things like blueberry scones. There hadn’t been a single glitch all season—at least, not since they’d finally received the go-ahead to open. Best of all, nearly every guest had rewarded the Inn with five stars online. The most positive reviews had come from newlyweds who praised the lovely, secluded suite with king bed, sumptuous Jacuzzi, and postcard view of the Edgartown lighthouse. Kevin had labeled it “the honeymoon suite” and suggested they promote the Inn as a venue for ceremonies and receptions. As intriguing as that sounded, they agreed to get through the first year before trying to tackle special events. Meanwhile, the year-round tenants added to the Inn’s charm, and everyone “fit” into the tranquil enclave that Annie had hoped they’d create. Yes, she reminded herself, so far, everything was terrific.
“Jonas will be here for dinner,” Francine continued. “You want to join us? He surfcasted this morning out at Wasque and landed a nice bass for the grill.”
It pleased Annie to think that Taylor’s son, the once shy young man, the burgeoning artist, was no longer shy and was, in fact, dating Francine. She was also happy that nearly two dozen of his paintings that they’d hung in the Inn had already sold; each time one was bought, Jonas replaced it with another, though that one was soon gone, too. Earl joked that they were going to need a revolving door for the canvasses. Jonas’s work was good and, apparently, so was his fishing. Clearly, the Vineyard was a place of healing for him—as it was for so many wash-ashores, Annie and Francine included. If only Annie liked Jonas’s mother half as much as she did him, life would be easier.
“Dinner sounds delicious, but I’m planning to see John. Thanks, anyway.”
Then a woman rounded the Inn and stepped into the backyard. “Hello?” She was a petite brunette with flawless bronze skin and cornflower eyes—the woman from the boat.
Francine sprang up to greet her. “You must be Ms. Mullen?”
She nodded, then gave Annie a small wave. “Hello again.”
“Hello,” Annie said, trying to conceal her surprise. “You should have told me you were coming here. Welcome.”
Ms. Mullen wore jeans and a light green T-shirt that looked new—it bore the logo of the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole. She offered a soft laugh. “I got distracted when I thought I saw someone I knew. But I was mistaken.”
“Your first trip to the island?” Francine asked.
She nodded.
