Island Girls (33 page)

A man. Wearing a suit. But not her father, because he didn’t have Rory’s thick silver hair—

But her father, after all. William Chivers rose from the wicker chair and stiffly waved at Jenny.

“Hello,” she called, hurrying up the walk. “What a surprise.”

“I intended it to be.” His smile made him look almost handsome, in spite of his white-fringed chrome dome and wrinkled forehead.

He held out his hand, but Jenny bypassed it and gave him a quick, light hug. “I’m so glad to see you. Come in. Would you like some coffee? The door was unlocked, by the way. We seldom lock our doors here. I could make iced coffee. We could sit out in the backyard, it’s very shady with all the trees—” She laughed out loud. “I know I’m babbling, but I can’t believe you’re here!”

William Chivers followed her into the kitchen, where he told her he’d prefer lemonade. Jenny filled two glasses and carried them out the back and down the steps to the wooden lawn chairs.

“Look,” she whispered, pointing to a birdbath at the far end of the garden. “Meg suggested we get it. I don’t know why I never bought one before. It’s such a pleasure to watch the birds drinking and bathing. Look at the fellow—what is it? I think it’s a house finch—splashing away so happily.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Chivers asked in a gentle voice.

“What? No, no. It’s just so surprising to see you. And I’m all over the place emotionally. We’ve got the house up for sale, and I’m going to have to move out, and the summer has been one bombshell after another.…” She put her hand on her chest and inhaled. “I’m sorry if I seem nervous. I’m glad to see you. I guess I’m just so surprised.”

“Take another deep breath,” Chivers told her. “I speak in my professional capacity as a physician.”

Jenny cocked her head quizzically. “Um, okay.”

“Jenny,” Chivers said, “I bought the house. I bought this house.” Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a stiff piece of paper and held it out to her. “For you.”

Jenny stared.

“This is the deed,” Chivers continued, still holding the paper out for her to take. “The house is now in your name.”

Jenny took the paper, unfolded it, and read it. She raised her eyes to William Chivers’s face. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this?”

“Because I can.” Leaning back, Chivers crossed one slim, elegant leg over the other. He couldn’t stop smiling. He seemed pleased with himself.

Jenny said, “But this house cost so much!”

“True. But if, for example, I’d known about you when you were born, I would have supported you financially your whole life. In a way, I’m making up for all the lost time.”

“Won’t your”—Jenny stumbled over her words; she almost said “your
real
children” but caught herself in time—“other children be upset that you’ve given away so much money? Two million dollars?”

“They have plenty of money,” William Chivers assured her. “And, Jenny, they know about you now. They’d like to meet you.”

“This is overwhelming,” Jenny gasped. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s only money,” William Chivers told her quietly. “It’s only, after all, a house. I would trade all my money to get back the years I missed when you were growing up. You are my first child. I would have liked to have held you when you were born. Look at you, how fetching you are, like your mother, and I can tell you have a superior mind. Your college graduation—I’ve missed it all.”

Jenny bit her lip to stop it quivering. “I’m slightly on overload.”

“This money, this house, isn’t meant to be a bribe,” William Chivers continued. “I mean, I’m not trying to buy my way into your life. But I would like to see you in the future. I’d like to introduce
you to my son and my daughter. I’d like to meet Meg and Arden.”

Jenny nodded, robotically, still stunned.

“Drink your lemonade, Jenny,” William Chivers told her.

She picked up her glass and drank. The tart, sugary cold braced her, revitalized her.

“I’m acting like an idiot,” she said. “I want to say thank you—but it’s almost unbelievable.”

“You’re perhaps a bit in shock, yes,” he agreed. “Drink more lemonade.”

She drank more lemonade. They sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“You know,” she said, “Meg and Arden have offered to help me buy a new house. With part of their share of the money they’ll get from the sale of this house.”

“Which you arranged for them to inherit,” William Chivers reminded her.

“But they don’t
know
that.” Jenny leaned toward William Chivers. “That’s the important thing, don’t you see, the essential thing. They have no idea I was involved with the stipulation. All on their own, because we did get along so well this summer, they decided they want to buy a house with me, so they can come here in the summer. So we can all be together.”

“Do you think they’ll be jealous when they find out I’ve bought the house for you?” William Chivers asked. “Do you think they’ll be angry?”

Jenny slid lower into her seat and let her eyes travel around the yard, taking in the birdbath, the privet hedge, the cheerful petunias and hardy phlox still blooming away in spite of the heat.

Jenny smiled. “They’ll be happy for me. For all of us. We’ll use their money to put an addition on the house, so they’ll have bigger rooms, for when they’re married and have children.”

William Chivers nodded. “Yes. You now have a world of possibilities.”

Jenny inhaled deeply. She smiled gratefully at William Chivers. “Thanks to you.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “In many ways, thanks to me. But also, thanks to Rory Randall.”

Justine was watering her houseplants after her short time away when someone knocked on the door. Surprised, she looked at her watch. It was late afternoon, almost time for a relaxing drink. Carrying her watering can to the door, she went down the hall. She opened the door.

William Chivers stood there, in a seersucker summer suit and a snowy white shirt. His head was bald except for a fringe of white hair, but his brown eyes were as warm as they had been so long ago.

He said,
“Justine.”

I am fortunate and extremely grateful to work with the superlative team at Ballantine. I send my sincere thanks to my editor, the peerless Linda Marrow, and to Libby McGuire, Gina Centrello, Junessa Viloria, Dana Isaacson, Kim Hovey, Quinne Rogers, Alison Masciovecchio, Mark LaFlaur, and Penelope Haynes.

My gratitude once again goes out to the true blue island girl Meg Ruley, my excellent agent. Also I thank Peggy Gordijn, Christina Hogrebe, and everyone at the Jane Rotrosen Agency.

Finally, a brief explanation: I realize that in my novels women meet wonderful men on Nantucket. Honestly, this is simply a matter of fiction imitating fact. Thirty years ago I came to Nantucket to visit a friend. She introduced me to Charley Walters. We’ve been married for more than twenty-eight years, some of them relatively challenging, pun intended. Charley is my constant inspiration for all good men. He is my companion, my champion, my cavalier, and the steady center of my soul. Thank you, Charley.

Maybe everyone should be an island girl, at least once.

N
ANCY
T
HAYER
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of
Summer Breeze
,
Heat Wave
,
Beachcombers
,
Summer House
,
Moon Shell Beach
, and
The Hot Flash Club
. She lives in Nantucket.

nancythayer.com

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