But she had worked so hard . . .
“‘I’m writing to let you know that Dr. Elliott has accepted. . . ’”
Her stomach lurched, her heart sank in spite of her instructions.
“A position at Remilard University in Chicago.”
Her father paused.
Maddie paused.
Then she cried, “What?”
He repeated the sentence. And he kept reading. “‘You and Dr. Manchino are now the only remaining candidates for tenure here at Green Hills. The committee decided to let both of you know about this unexpected change. See you in a few weeks. Sincerely, Don Jarvis.’”
Maddie listened as her father refolded the paper. It was like him to return it to the envelope. Neat. Efficient.
“You have one less competitor, Madelyn. That’s great news.”
“I guess. But Mark Manchino has a lot of publications. . . .”
“And you are a brilliant woman who knows the rules and plays by them. Manchino, however, is headstrong.”
“If you say so. Let’s talk about this when I get home, okay? I need to go out and get dinner.”
“Okay. I hope your foot feels better. And have a nice time.”
A nice time? Oh. Right. He assumed she’d be dining at a lovely Boston restaurant with her lovely Boston friends. Whoever they might be.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” She disconnected the call and sat perfectly still. She hadn’t breathed a word about Grandma Nancy. She hadn’t told him about the inheritance. She hadn’t told him anything. Maybe because her future was proving as difficult to unpack as the history boxed up in the cottage. Would it have been easier if she’d been rejected for tenure, so her future wouldn’t be fraught with so much doubt?
Besides, she’d already decided to sell everything and leave the island.
Hadn’t she?
Right then, however, Maddie was sick of thinking. And she was hungry again. Maybe she could make the pizza last for a couple of meals, then find out which restaurants would deliver.
But as Maddie struggled to stand, the silhouette of a male appeared at the screen door, shaded by the late-day rays of the sun.
“I’ve come with gifts,” Brandon, the silhouette, said. He was holding what looked like a casserole dish in one hand and a canvas bag in the other. Wildflowers were poking out of the top.
* * *
From watching through the window and seeing her reaction when she’d scanned the Bible, Maddie obviously finally knew the truth about her heritage. It was strange she hadn’t known before; maybe her father hadn’t wanted her to feel any ties to the island. For whatever reason.
Then again, Maddie seemed to have a mind of her own; maybe she’d finally be able to choose whichever road she wanted. Her son was an adult now; maybe she’d let him make his own choice, too.
Spying was good for some things, but not if one was supposed to be able to read the target’s mind.
In any case, it definitely was time to move closer. All this waiting and wondering has been risky. Not to mention tiresome.
Chapter 12
“Seafood strudel,” Brandon said, as he raised the casserole dish and stepped into the cottage. “Salad in the bag, and a bottle of wine. Does that work for you?”
Maddie smiled. “You’re back from the big city.”
“All true. And I shall dine with you, if that’s okay. I feel terrible for abandoning you in your hour of need.”
