Return to Pearl Island, Bonus Chapters (2 page)

“Aurora, you’re going to do great.” He squeezed her hands. “I
know
it.”

“I’ll try,” she said, searching for courage.

“If I know you, you’ll do more than try.” As his gaze traveled over her face, admiration softened his eyes. “How did I ever get so lucky to have you fall in love with me?”

“Marguerite’s charm?” she suggested.

“Must be. It’s the only explanation.”

”Either that”—she draped her arms over his shoulders, determined to be brave—”or I simply have exceptional taste in men.”

“That too.” He lowered his mouth toward her.

“Wait!” She pulled back. “My lip gloss.”

“Looks yummy. Is it flavored?”

“Very Berry.” She grinned.

“Mmm,” he murmured and kissed her.

She expected a quick peck, but his mouth settled in to toy and taste, sending a thrill of excitement through her. After eight years of marriage, he still knew how to curl her toes. Forgetting her nerves, she molded her body to his and kissed him back.

“Mo-om!” a young voice drew the word out in a two-syllable complaint.

Rory pulled back, laughing at her daughter’s tone. Seven-year-old Lauren, who’d been coloring in the living room, now stood in the doorway with hands on hips. Dressed in a yellow sundress, she looked like an irritated ray of sunshine with long, blond ringlets. Thanks to her Gran’ma Ellen and Great Aunt Viv, she’d turned into quite the little fashionista. And oh, the horror of finding her parents in a lip lock.

“Sorry, Peanut,” Rory offered, backing away from her equally amused husband. “What do you need?”

“Not me.” Lauren pointed back toward the open great room. “AJ!”

“What?” Rory hurried forward. She’d had the children in her peripheral vision while putting on makeup, but then Chance had kissed her. She’d only taken her eye off AJ for a few seconds but she knew her son. Reaching the door, she spotted four-year-old AJ in the kitchen—standing on top of the counter with a cabinet open. Rising onto his toes, he reached toward the top shelf.

“Adrian James Chancellor,” she called, leaping into action, weaving her way through furniture, and brightly colored toys. “What are you doing?”

With a guilty start, he turned and saw her coming. “I’m not up here,” he said, trying to scramble down the way he’d gone up, by using open drawers as a ladder. “You don’t see me.”

“Oh, yes I do.” She reached him in time to pluck him into her arms before he could break a drawer and tumble to the floor. “How did you get these open? I have child locks on these.”

“Like that’s going to stop our little Evil Knievel,” Chance said striding into the scene with Lauren in his wake. He looked amused and just a tiny bit proud.

Rory scowled at him, then at her son. “You little stinker, what were you doing?”

“Animule Crackers!”

“You’re about to have breakfast, so no, you can’t have crackers. Plus, you’re supposed to ask, remember?” Shifting him to her side, she closed the drawers, making sure they latched. “You do not climb up on the counter to get them yourself. Do you understand?”

He pushed his bottom lip out in a mulish pout she knew all too well. Like his sister, he had golden curls and an angel’s face, but his came paired with a sturdy body and a daredevil’s heart.

“I swear to you, Chance,” she told her husband, “your son is going to be the death of me.”

“He gets that from you, not me,” Chance said.

“What?”

“Determination. Come here, rascal.” When Chance held out his hands, AJ leapt eagerly out of Rory’s arms with no fear of gravity. Chance caught him, as he always did, then held him up so they could talk eye to eye. “Your mommy’s nervous enough today, so you need to be an extra good boy, okay?”

“‘Kay,” AJ agreed, which meant nothing. Rory knew he’d be right back to his usual antics the second he could slip away.

”I told him not to,” Lauren said in her big-girl voice. “But did he listen to me?” She turned her hands palm up. “No.”

“I know, Sweetie.” Planting AJ on one hip, Chance ran a hand over his daughter’s hair. The tableaux they presented gave Rory a sweet ache of happiness. “Little brothers are a pain, aren’t they?”

“That’s because they’re boys,” Lauren informed him with a superiority that came from being the oldest.

“Can I count on you to help keep an eye on him while they’re interviewing your mommy?” Chance asked.

“I’ll try.” Lauren heaved a sigh of long suffering.

“Okay, then,” he said, taking his daughter’s hand, “let’s go upstairs.”

Rory’s nerves returned as Chance moved from the kitchen into the dinning area.

When she didn’t immediately follow, he turned back. “Coming?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Certainly,” he said. “You can stay down here cowering in fear, disappointing all the people upstairs who are so excited about this.”

“Tempting.” She laughed and glanced around the open great room that held so many memories.

Knowing the interviewer would ask about the history of the inn, she couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened since that fateful day when she’d set her heart on buying the dilapidated mansion to turn it into a bed and breakfast. She’d originally planned for the inn to be a way for her and her siblings to live together throughout their adult lives. She now realized how unrealistic that had been. Allison and Adrian had each found love and moved on with their lives, allowing her and Chance to move into the basement apartment, fulfilling her life-long dream to live in the mansion built for Marguerite.

Adrian still dictated the menu and helped plan events whether he was in town or traveling, but his friend Rusty now worked as their fulltime cook. Allison also traveled a lot, since her husband was a world renown thriller author who liked to research all the locales for his books in person. The trips allowed her to shop for special items for the gift shop so Rory had helped Alli turn the physical shop into a great online store.

All three siblings were still part of the inn, but the day-to-day business of running it had gradually fallen to her and Chance. Not that she minded. The old house, with its whispers of legends and ghosts, was as much a part of her as Chance and her children, something to nurture and cherish.

“Well?” Chance prompted her.

“Yes, I’m coming,” she sighed and joined him at the base of the stairs.

Following him and the kids up, she thought about how easily it could all have been snatched away on the whim of nature. Hurricane Ike had left the basement a soggy, muddy mess, forcing them to gut it back to the studs and finish it out all over again. Other people, though, had lost everything. The storm had decimated the whole neighborhood where Chance had grown up. Chance’s parents were rebuilding, but other people had moved to the mainland. She couldn’t imagine leaving behind the history, the culture, the
people
of Galveston.

As she neared the top of the stairs, voices drifted to her along with the scent of bread, bacon, and coffee. The friendly sounds and homey scents lifted her spirits as nothing else could. The number of voices, though, surprised her. Reaching the back hall, where light spilled from the kitchen, she saw Paige helping Allison fill food trays for the buffet in the dining room. She’d expected that, since Paige had agreed to fill in for her, but she hadn’t expected to see, Betsy McMillan from the Laughing Mermaid Inn pulling a baking sheet of pastries out of the oven. Another innkeeper, Steven, was scrambling eggs at the huge, restaurant grade stove. Adrian’s friend Rusty looked very official as he bustled about in his white chef’s jacket.

“Well, there you are,” Betsy said, spotting her. A silver bob framed her rosy face.

“Betsy, what are you doing here?” Rory asked stepping around Chance and the children. “You have an inn full of your own guests to feed.”

“I decided Ron and my daughter could handle that for one morning,” Betsy insisted as she carried the baking sheet to Allison and Paige.

“Steven...” Rory turned to one of her favorite innkeepers. “You didn’t leave David on his own, did you?”

“Now, don’t fuss, Sugar.” Steven plopped his hand on one hip. “We knew you’d have your hands full with so many town folks to feed on top of your guests and that news crew.”

“We would have managed,” Rory insisted.

“That’s what I told them,” Allison said, laughter dancing in her eyes. She sat on a stool at the center island as she glazed cinnamon rolls.

“Listen to you,” Betsy scolded Alli with motherly affection. “Eight months pregnant, waiting on a hungry crowd.”

“Relax, Betsy,” Alli said, glowing with a serenity that had enveloped her since her pregnancy had started to show. “I promise not to lift anything heavy.”

“As if we’d let you,” Betsy said.

Paige ducked her head, but not before Rory saw her stifle a laugh.

“As for you”—Betsy turned to Rory—”I don’t want to hear any objections about me helping. Truth is, I’m here for purely selfish reasons.” A smile blossomed on her face. “I wanted to be part of the action.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Rory crossed the spacious kitchen and hugged the woman who was both mentor and friend. She smelled as comforting as the pastries she’d been making. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Betsy said, hugging her back.

Watching them, Chance breathed a sigh of gratitude. Having a few extra hands in the kitchen meant he could focus fully on Aurora. Especially if he pulled them in for kid duty.

“Hey, Allison,” he said, putting AJ on the floor. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into watching these two for awhile?”

“I’d love to.” Alli beamed at Lauren and AJ. “Come on, Sweeties. Grab your step stools so you can help get these trays ready.”

The kids raced noisily for the stools in the corner, no doubt hoping some of those fresh-from-the-oven goodies wound up in their tummies.

Chance noticed Aurora had gone to see what Steven and Rusty were whipping up so he moved closer to Allison to talk without his wife hearing. “Thank you,” he said, nodding at the kids. “One less thing for me to worry about.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.

“I’m nearly as much a wreck as Aurora.”

“You’re hiding it well.”

“Trying to.” He huffed out a breath. “Letting her know I’m nervous for her would just make her more nervous.”

“You’ve learned to read my sister well.” She nodded in approval.

“And thank you,” he added to Paige. “We really needed you today.”

“You know I’m always happy to help out.” Paige looked a bit confused that he even felt a need to thank her.

He suppose she had a point since she was the closest thing he had to a sister. “Still,” he said, “it’s appreciated.”

“Then you’re welcome.” She sent him the shy, nurturing smile he knew so well. To his surprise, she and Captain Bob had never started a family of their own, but they seemed content to keep it just the two of them. “Be warned, though, my husband is out there with his digital camera, ready to do a photo-documentary of the whole day for Aurora’s Website.”

“You know”—he chuckled—”I think after this is all over, she’ll actually be happy about that.” He checked his watch. “Right now, however, I need to drag my camera-shy wife off to a fate worse than death. Aurora?” he called.

“Hang on.”

He turned to see she’d slipped on an apron. “Naw-uh,” he said, going to pull it off over her head. “No cooking.”

“I was just going to help stir the hollandaise. I have time.”

“No, you don’t.” He tugged the apron away from her then took her by the hand. “If you people will excuse us...”

“Break a leg,” Allison called as he pulled Aurora from room.

“You’re not coming?” Aurora asked.

“In a minute,” Alli promised as he led Aurora into the back hall.

He chose that path to bypass the crowd in the dining room, but the moment they entered the central-hall-turned-lobby, the hush of the inn surprised him.

“Where is everyone?” Aurora asked, glancing into the empty music room and dining room where the buffet had been spread on the sideboard. Normally, by this time of the morning, several guests sat around the big table visiting and eating. He spotted a few dirty plates and crumpled napkins, but no people.

“They must all be out on the veranda, waiting to watch the interview.”

“Oh, great.” She released a shaky breath. “So, now I get cameras
and
a live audience.”

He started to laugh, but as they reached the base of the stairs, cool air brushed his skin. He stopped abruptly.

“What?” Aurora asked, then stopped as well. The way her eyes widened with wonder told him she felt it too. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He looked about as his senses tingled—not with fear, just awareness.

There was a time, years ago, when they’d all been sure Marguerite and Jack had finally found peace and moved on to wherever it was ghosts went, but every once in a while they seemed to come back.

But only when someone in the family needed help.

Like the day AJ, at age two, slipped away and made it all the way down to the dock with no one seeing him. Chance had been working in the office when his body turned ice cold and a vision of his son drowning popped into his mind. Without stopping to question, he’d charged out the front door and spotted AJ standing at the very end of the dock, bending his little legs like he was about to jump in. Shouting all the way, he’d raced down the lawn and onto the dock to snatch the boy into his arms. With his heart practically beating through his ribs, he’d turned to see Aurora right behind him. She’d had the exact same vision. Swimming lessons had started the very next day.