Driftwood Point (22 page)

Alec signaled to the waiter for the check. Ten minutes later, they were walking along the boards, hand in hand, looking out at the bay.

“It's such a pretty night,” Lis said.

“Too pretty a night, and too early to take you home. Unless you're worn out from being ‘on' tonight.”

“No, I'm good.”

One Scoop or Two was already dark, and the parking lot was mostly empty.

“I hadn't realized that St. Dennis had become such a tourist destination,” she told him as they walked to the car.

“It's been growing steadily over the past ten years or so. There are some Friday nights you can't park in town and it takes half an hour to go from Sinclair's Inn out to the highway. It's been a boon to the shopkeepers, though.” He opened the passenger-side door and held it while she got in. “And I've lost track of the number of places that are now B and Bs. There's at least one on every street.” He walked around the car and got into the driver's seat.

“I guess if I were looking for a vacation place, I'd consider St. Dennis.”

Alec turned the key in the ignition. “My cousin Dan has had a lot to do with the way the town has grown in popularity. I don't think most people are aware of the contribution he's made by all the changes he's done to the inn. There's a kids' park there now, tennis courts, a restaurant with a phenomenal chef. The entire building has been updated and the grounds are beautiful. There are weddings there almost every weekend, thanks to Lucy, who was an event planner in California before she came home a few years ago.”

“Lucy was so pretty, with all that long strawberry-blond hair straight down her back. She's still pretty.” Lis fingered her own dark curls. “I always envied her hair. Mine never went straight like that.”

Alec drove over the drawbridge, and Lis assumed he was taking her home. Instead, he pulled the car onto the grass at the point and parked in front of the cottage.

“Have you figured out yet what's what here?” she asked, wondering if he had bad news and had brought her here to break it.

“I'm still waiting to hear from the termite inspector. He was supposed to be here this morning, but something came up and he had to put it off. He thought maybe he'd get to it by Monday or Tuesday.”

“For a second, I was afraid you brought me here to give me bad news.”

“Well, it might not be good in the end. I already told you there was water damage, but I don't know how extensive. Let's wait and see what the termite report tells us. The place may need some major rehab, but we don't have enough information right now. You'll have a decision to make soon enough. In the meantime . . . I see moonlight.”

“Then let's not waste it.” Lis kicked off her shoes. “Let's walk out onto the pier.”

“Remember there are a lot of loose and missing boards. We won't be able to see them in the dark, and—”

Lis was already out of the car and heading toward the water. She heard Alec's car door slam and his footfalls behind her.

“So let's make a plan ahead of time in case one of us falls through the pier,” he said as he caught up with her.

“Whoever doesn't fall through pulls out the one who did.”

“Good plan.” He took hold of her left hand. “Heck of a plan.”

Lis laughed. “We'll just go slowly and be careful where we put our feet.”

“Very careful.” He glanced at her bare feet. “You know you're inviting a mass of splinters.”

“I'll take my chances.”

They reached the pier, and Lis stepped onto it, with Alec following behind, still holding her hand.

“I wish we had a flashlight,” she said.

“Hold up. There's an app for that.” He let go of her hand and pulled out his phone. A moment later, a beam of light illuminated the pier.

“That's very cool.” She kept her eyes down and successfully avoided the missing boards all the way to the pier's end.

“I can show you how to get it on your phone, if you like,” he told her.

“That would be great. Thanks.”

They stood at the end of the pier looking out on the dark water. What had been a hot, sunny day marked by clear blue skies had turned into a cloudy night where the moon played
now you see me, now you don't
and the stars were mostly hidden. Still, it was beautiful there on the edge of the bay.

“Well, there had been moonlight.” He sounded disappointed as clouds moved across the face of the moon, and poof! The light was gone.

“And there will be again. Look”—she pointed overhead—“the clouds are moving.”

Alec stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Lis melted back into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd stood like
this before a thousand times. She was mentally urging him to kiss her when he turned her around and did exactly that. This time, there was nothing tentative about the kiss. It was hot and urgent and full of promise and passion.

This is what it's like when you kiss someone who matters,
a voice inside her head told her, and she wondered where the thought came from.
This is how it feels when it's right.

And then he was whispering in her ear, “Next time I'm bringing a bottle of wine. We'll sit on the end of the pier, and after we finish drinking it, we'll take turns spinning it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lis nodded.

With Alec's arm over her shoulder, they walked back to the car. The radio was playing softly as they drove back to Ruby's. Alec pulled up behind Lis's car and turned off the headlights. He was just about to reach across the console for her when he noticed the back porch light was on and someone was sitting in one of the rocking chairs.

“Looks like your brother waited up for you.” Alec nodded in the direction of the porch.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Lis got out of the car and went straight for the porch. “Owen Elliott Parker, what do you think you're doing?”

“Just sitting here, enjoying the night.” Owen raised a hand and waved to Alec. “Hey, Alec. I meant to tell you earlier—real nice job you did on this porch. This is real quality work here.”

“Thanks, Owen.”

“You're welcome. Can I offer you a beer? I picked up a six-pack of MadMac Brews's Honey Ginger on my way home. It's really good.”

“You're not going to go inside, are you?” Lis asked.

“Nope.”

“You're being a jerk.”

“Probably. But it's amusing me, so I'm okay with it.”

Lis rolled her eyes. “Alec, thanks for a great night. I really enjoyed dinner.”

“We'll do it again soon,” Alec told her, obviously more amused than she was.

Lis stood on the top step and leaned over to kiss Alec lightly on the lips. “I hope so.”

She smacked her brother on the head as she went into the house.

“Sure I can't get you a beer?” she heard Owen ask Alec.

She didn't wait to hear Alec's reply. She went straight up to her room and closed the door. What was it with Owen, anyway? She was thirty-five, not fifteen—not that he'd ever pulled a stunt like that when she was younger.

She tossed her bag onto the bed. It had been a long day, one filled with emotion on several levels, and she had to admit that as annoyed as she was with Owen, exhaustion trumped even that. From the porch below, she heard voices, and she opened the window and tried to hear what was being said. If she knew Owen, he was trying to pump Alec for information about the blonde. She smiled in spite of herself. All in all, it had been a great night, one she would never forget.

She changed out of her dress and hung it in the closet next to the black backup number she'd brought with her from her apartment. It was hard not to compare the two. It was like looking at her old life alongside her new one, like before-and-after pictures. She pulled her nightshirt over her head, turned off the light, and got into bed.

Outside, the conversation went on in murmurs and occasional laughter. She turned over and fell asleep listening to the sound of Alec's voice.

Chapter Twelve

S
o what did you think of my sister's artwork?” Owen raised the bottle to his lips after Lis had disappeared into the house.

“She's obviously very talented,” Alec replied.

“That was too easy, Jansen. Too politic. Of course she has talent. She's always had talent. Her
talent
is not what I'm asking you.” Owen tapped the side of the bottle with his fingers. “What I'm asking is, what you thought of the paintings. As in, did you
like
them?”

“Well . . .” Alec cleared his throat and lowered his voice as if he thought Lis were standing behind him. “The subject matter is . . . well, sort of foreign to me.”

“You mean city streets. Skyscrapers. Three lanes of traffic jammed with cars. Crowds gathered on street corners waiting for the lights to change.”

“Well, I did like that last one, the one with all those people on the corner, standing in the rain. And I liked the ones in Central Park.”

“So what you're saying is you can't relate to most of the others.”

Alec sighed. “More or less.”

“Yeah. Me, either.” Owen took a long drink, finished the bottle, and set it on the porch next to his chair. “I know she's made her name painting that other stuff, but I feel she could do better, you know?”

“I guess.” Alec had no idea where this was going.

“I mean, I don't understand how a girl who was raised among all this”—his arms spread to include the entire island—“would want to paint eighty-or-more-story buildings. Makes no sense to me. All that glass and steel . . . I don't get it.”

“I'm sure she could paint whatever she wanted,” Alec said cautiously, still not sure why he and Owen were having this conversation.

“It's like she was trying to ignore the fact that she grew up on an unspoiled island.” Owen turned to face Alec. “You see what I'm saying, right? That what she paints is the exact opposite of where she came from?”

“Well, I agree that the two places are very different. Country versus city, you could say. But if you're asking me if I think she's deliberately trying to separate herself from her Eastern Shore roots—I don't know that I'd go that deep, Owen.”

“I don't think it's all that deep. It looks to me that she's almost running away from her past. Like she's trying to forget.” Owen took two more beers from the cooler, opened one and passed it to Alec before opening the second one for himself. “Are you part of that?”

“Part of what?”

“Of what she's trying to forget. What she wants
to put behind her. Did you do something to her, back then, that would make her want to leave, to forget—”

“Owen, if anyone should have been wanting to put the past behind where Lis is concerned, it should be me. I'm the one who was humiliated when she turned down my invitation to the prom. I'm the one who everyone snickered at behind their hands when she shut me down in front of everyone.”

“What are you talking about?”

Alec told him.

“Why would you ask someone to the prom in front of an audience?” Owen asked in disbelief. “Even I—who was never turned down for a date, I should add right about here—even I wouldn't be dumb enough to do that for the simple reason that the girl might be that one in a million who might say no.”

“Yeah, well, your advice is about seventeen years too late. So to answer your question, no, I'm pretty sure that I'm not what Lis was running from, if in fact she was running from anything or trying to forget something from her past.” He tilted the bottle back and took a drink. “You know, you could probably ask your sister why she chooses one subject over another. There could be a very simple answer that has nothing to do with Cannonball Island.”

Owen rocked for a moment, the bottle dangling from his left hand.

“So how do you feel about her now?” he asked.

Alec sighed. “About the same way I felt about her back then.”

“Which was?”

“You're going to make me say it, aren't you?”

“Yep.”

“I fell for your sister in fifth grade and my feelings have never really changed. Back then, I thought she was that one-in-a-million girl. I still do. That answer your question?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Owen gazed out across the dune toward the bay, then looked back at Alec. “You know if you hurt her, I might have to hurt you. Just sayin'.”

“I would never do anything to hurt her,” Alec said softly. “I think I've been waiting for her to come back. I didn't even realize it myself, but I think all this time, I've been waiting for Lis.”

“Good. I'm glad we understand each other.”

Alec started to get up, feeling he'd been dismissed.

“By the way, what do you know about Cass Logan?” Owen asked, his voice casual but his expression intense.

Alec hesitated before answering.

“I know she's not from around here. That she's staying at a B and B in town for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eastern Shore. Vacation. Blah blah blah. Why's she really here?”

“What makes you think . . . ?”

“Hello? Naval intelligence?” Owen sighed. “We both know she's not here for R and R.”

“What makes you think I'd know otherwise?”

“I saw you talking to her, heads close together,” Owen replied. “And since we've already established that you've got it bad for my sister, I'm going to assume you're not dating Cass, because you'd never
stand there and have a cozy tête-à-tête with another girl while my sister was standing ten feet away. Especially not with me in the room.”

Alec debated how much to tell Owen. Some parts of the deal with Deiter were still up in the air, and the last thing he wanted was to start rumors.

“Cass is an architect,” he told Owen.

“I know that much.”

“Her father is Brian Deiter. He's a builder who's responsible for a number of housing developments up and down the Eastern Shore.”

“And he has his eye on St. Dennis?” Owen frowned.

“What makes you think that?”

“Why else would she be here?”

Alec shrugged.

“Don't play with me, Jansen,” Owen said quietly.

“That's all I'm at liberty to say,” Alec told him. “Sorry.”

Owen glared at him for a long, hard moment.

Alec finally broke the silence. “I guess I should be going. I have some oyster beds to check on in the morning. Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime.”

Alec got up and went to his car.

“Hey, Jansen,” Owen called to him just as Alec opened the driver's-side door. When Alec turned around, Owen said, “Good luck with my sister.”

“Thanks.” Alec started the Jeep and drove off.

He waited while two large SUVs tried to pass each other on the bridge, and thought about Owen's obvious interest in Cass Logan.

Alec weighed what he knew about Owen against the little he knew about Cass. He couldn't even venture a guess what the outcome might be, but he knew it would be interesting to watch. The bridge cleared of its minijam, and Alec stepped on the gas and headed to St. Dennis, amused by the thought of the big guy possibly—finally—striking out.

Alec drove home through the quiet streets of St. Dennis to the house he'd inherited from his uncle Cliff. For his money, it had been an exceptional evening. He wished he could relive that moment when Lis first walked into the gallery in that dress that made him catch his breath. It was silky, of soft, misty colors and gentle curves, and he'd found it smooth and cool when he finally got close enough to touch it. She'd worn her hair down in a sort of ponytail that had been worked into a knot at the left side of her neck and spilled over her shoulder. It was simple and exotic and sexy all at the same time. And as a bonus, he'd been able to look at her all he wanted without having to explain to anyone why he couldn't keep his eyes off her, because it was her show, so everyone else was looking at her, too. She was the guest of honor, and for Alec—as much as he admired her art—she
was
the show.

And then Cass Logan popped up.

“Hey, Cass.” He'd come up behind her.

“Hey, yourself,” she'd replied.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I'm an art lover. I saw the notice in the paper that there'd be a showing tonight, so I thought I'd drop by, see what all the fuss is about. You know,
there's really not much for a newly divorced woman to do by herself on a Saturday night on the Eastern Shore. Besides, I like to know the area I'm going to be working in.”

“That sounds like decisions have been made.”

“Let's just say I've already started on my part of the project.”

“So when am I going to get to see what you've designed?”

“It will be awhile before I have anything to show you. Maybe you won't like what I've done. Maybe my dad won't like it. Maybe he'll decide the cost per unit versus the sales price isn't cost-effective. Maybe your people will decide not to sell, or maybe not enough of them to make enough to offset the cost of the project.” Cass took a drink from the glass she was holding. “Lots can happen between here and there. Plenty can go wrong. That's why we take it one step at a time.”

“Okay. I get it. I'll be patient.”

“I hope you'll also keep it all close to the vest. If word gets out about the project, who knows—another builder could get wind of it and decide it sounds like a good idea to them, too. They offer more money to the sellers, and boom! Deiter's out, someone else is in. It happened to my dad not too long ago, so he's understandably gun-shy about people talking. Loose lips and all that.”

“Tell me how it's a bad idea for someone else to pay the islanders more money for their property.”

“I'm surprised a man as astute as you needs to ask.” She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice.
“Let's start with the fact that you'd have no guarantee that another builder would be willing to work with you to make sure the houses all fit in architecturally. I can make that guarantee. I can promise that nothing will be built that doesn't look like it could have been here two hundred years ago. I can also guarantee that no corners will be cut during construction. You can ask anyone who's ever worked with my father. Yes, he can be tough, he can be annoying as hell, he's stubborn and wants what he wants, but you can count on him to deliver exactly what he says he will.”

Alec listened without comment.

“And someone else might be willing to play fast and loose where the environment is concerned.”

“There are regulations—”

“That can be overlooked if the price is right. We both know that.”

“Sad, but true.”

“We both know that sometimes the impact on the environment doesn't manifest itself for years. How many times have you seen the EPA go after a builder only to find out he's gone out of business and maybe he's operating under a different corporate name. We both know who's on the hook, right? The homeowners, or the insurance company for the builder, depending on how his policy was written.” She shook her head. “I promise that Deiter Homes is the best company for the job. We'll do it your way, from design to construction, and we'll go by the book when it comes to the regulations. Clean, quick, and honest.”

“So in other words, trust you.”

“Yes. Trust me. You will love my designs. They're going to be fabulous.” She leaned a little closer, a smug smile on her lips. “So fabulous that I already decided that one of them will be mine.”

“I can't wait to see them.”

“You'll be the first. But I'd like your word that you won't discuss the project until we're ready to start talking to potential sellers.” Cass had paused. “You haven't already talked it around, have you?”

“I did discuss the possibility of some development with one person, but it won't go beyond her.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know her.” Ruby was Ruby, and not into idle talk or anything she might construe as gossip. “And I did mention the possibility of a sale with Tom Mullan, who owns the properties we looked at this week. I did ask him not to talk about it, though, and he agreed.”

“I guess you had to confide in him in order to get the key to the house.”

Alec had been just about to respond when he realized Owen had joined them.

“Alec,” Owen had said, his eyes on Cass, “aren't you going to introduce me?”

And of course, he had, and then he'd taken advantage of Owen's presence to back away and rejoin Lis.

But for tonight, he'd already given enough thought to Cass and the project and where it was going. He'd rather think about Lis, and how great the evening had been for her. She'd been right when she said that most
of the town had come to see her work. His aunt Grace had been diligent in beating the bushes on behalf of her friend Ruby, who'd been telling Grace for weeks how proud she was of Lis and how she hoped a lot of people would show up. Grace had taken that as her personal mandate to ensure that the town turned out in droves, and she'd done a damned good job of it, judging by the number of people he'd seen filing in and out of the gallery.