“Castaways. Sylvie Cassick’s place. She arrived after you fled the scene. You’ll love her. And her husband.” Claire pretended to swoon.
“Handsome?”
Arnaud shouted, “He’s not so great.”
“Connor Larkin,” Claire said.
“Wait, the movie star?”
“And he can sing.” Claire rolled her eyes. “One of their twins has a thing. A twist in the intestines, was what Sylvie said. They left for the San Francisco children’s hospital before the big storm and got stuck. Two days later the Castaways assistant manager came down with the never-get-overs and they closed for the holidays.”
“I thought I saw a lot fewer vehicles on the streets tonight.”
Arnaud stopped by for a bite from his wife’s plate. “The morning news claimed they were finally clearing the northern passes.”
Claire swatted his hand. “And the valley highway east to Paso Robles.”
Arnaud tasted, rocked his head side to side. “It’s missing something.”
“Go complain over your own meal!”
“That’s no fun.” To Olivia, “Yes, part of the roads have been cleared. And no, not totally. Some families facing a longer trek are holding back. Especially now that there are rooms at the only inn still open.”
“Steal more of my food and you’ll be cooking with one hand, mister!” When Arnaud returned to his stoves, Claire asked, “So you’ll be moving into the guesthouse?”
“Tell the truth, I’m happy where I am. And it’s not for too long.”
Claire stopped eating. “I heard your cottage isn’t in great shape.”
“Terrible,” Olivia agreed. She hesitated, then decided it would be better if Claire heard it from her. “Dillon’s grandparents’ old place is okay. Soon as the water and power are back, he’s moving in. He’s offered me a room.”
All kitchen noise stopped.
Arnaud popped back into view as Claire said, “So. You and Dillon.”
“Don’t you start.”
“If he and Connor were to run for Miramar’s hottest, it would be a close call.”
“I heard that!” Arnaud drifted closer, asked Olivia, “More?”
“Another half portion would be great.” To Claire, “I’m still scalded by everything I left behind in LA. We’re talking, serious burn victim.”
Claire lost her smile. “It’s really nice to have you back. Sorry about the reasons.”
“Dillon is being a nice, sweet, gentle friend.” Olivia faced the corkboard and its myriad of recipes, bills, notices, Christmas cards, scrawled notes. As if she could find a script that might explain the confusion she felt over hearing his name. “I know what it sounds like. But it doesn’tfeelthat way.”
To their credit, Arnaud remained silent and Claire did not tease. Her oldest friend asked, “What does itfeellike?”
“Like he’s helping me get my feet back on the ground.” Olivia saw the same warm intelligence, the no-nonsense gaze, the inner beauty that had carried them both through so much. “Like he feels the same way I do. Like our romance is part of ancient history. That was then and this is now.”
Claire gave that a moment. “You better be certain Dillon agrees on that point. Because if you’re wrong, moving into his place would be pulling the pin on a live grenade.”
