For a moment, Annie actually believed that Taylor would do as she had asked.
But the woman turned her gaze out to the water and said, “No. Kevin has been good to me. He helped me break away from this place and have a life again. I love being in Hawaii, with or without him. But getting married so fast was my idea, not his. He was lonely and vulnerable. I knew that long before I knew that she was here.”
The “she,” of course, was Meghan. Annie couldn’t blame Taylor for not wanting to say the name.
Then Taylor shook her head. “Tell him not to worry; I’ll have it annulled as soon as I get back. Kevin belongs here. But I don’t. Not anymore. I like being five thousand miles away from my old self.” With that, she turned and walked back to board the three forty-five.
Five thousand miles, Annie thought. She had to give Taylor credit for getting the details right.
Watching her walk back up the ramp, Annie wondered if she’d ever given the woman a fair chance. She’d first seen her as a harsh, rough-and-tumble, disgruntled loner; as time had passed, Annie came to understand that, like so many people, Annie included, Taylor had been beaten down in many ways—some were her own doing, others were not. And Kevin, Annie’s sweet brother, had showed Taylor that life could be good again. He was so special, that brother of hers.
Annie stood, still watching, as the auburn mane dipped into the doorway of the boat; then the last car was loaded, the ferry whistle blew, and just like that, Taylor was gone.
Chapter 31
Annie was so tired she barely made it back to Chappy. She found Francine on the phone at the front desk, telling yet another caller that she was sorry, but the Inn was booked. She waited until Francine hung up before issuing the idea she’d come up with on her trip back to Chappy.
“Call Jonas. Tell him to get his butt to Boston and bring his mother back. I’d drive up there myself, but right now, I couldn’t handle the traffic.” She tossed Francine a smile, then went upstairs to the honeymoon suite and stretched out on the king bed. She closed her eyes and tried to settle her mind. She thought only of Kevin, that he was alive, that he would make it. And when Taylor returned and Meghan found out they were married, that she no longer was . . . Oh, Annie was tired of trying to figure out what would or should happen next.
The next thing she knew, the sun was lower in the sky. She checked her phone: six o’clock.
She sighed, and rested her head back on the pillow. Then she sat up with a start. “Simon!”
Bounding off the bed, she ran into the bathroom, quickly brushed her hair and teeth, and tried to smooth the wrinkles from her crop pants and her top, not that it mattered. Still, she applied a coat of lipstick to help prevent her from looking as exhausted as she felt.
She made it down to the beach in record time.
* * *
Simon was waiting, standing by the shoreline, gazing toward the lighthouse.
Kicking off her flip-flops, she slipped her hands into her pockets and walked down to the water. She stood next to him. “I never get tired of this view.”
He nodded. “What’s it like in winter, though?”
“Different. But still as captivating. Maybe more, because it’s unpredictable. The water, the light, the wind—they can be different every day.”
He nodded again. “How’s your brother? Francine told me he woke up.”
“He did. And he’s doing better.” Despite their challenging moments, Simon seemed nice enough, whatever that meant. Evidently, however, he was one of those people who held their troubles deep.
“I didn’t come to the Vineyard to do a special report on how climate change is affecting top vacation spots,” he said.
Annie drew in a long breath. “I guessed that by now.”
He flinched, but did not look at her. Instead he watched a sailboat glide out of the harbor. “Do you suppose they’re headed home because the season’s over?”
“Yes.”
“I live in Manhattan now,” he said.
She didn’t say she knew that thanks to Wikipedia. “I guess you have to. For your job.”
“My wife’s a New Yorker. My kids are, too. They tease me because I’m still a Sox fan.”
Annie smiled. “I suppose there are more of those around these parts than in Manhattan.” As badly as she wanted to ask him to get on with whatever he wanted to say, she was at least grateful that he hadn’t brought a blanket and a bottle of wine.
“My brother killed your husband,” he said suddenly.
