Sea Glass Sunrise (6 page)

Fiona was laughing now. “Hey, you should have seen that dress yesterday before she helped me fix it. Oh my God, we were laughing so hard, so I just kept it on.”

“You . . . fixed it?” Hannah said, dubiously, trying not to recall the unnaturally shiny monstrosity her sister had had on the day before and failing. Spectacularly. Where was post-accident amnesia when she needed it? “Really? What part?”

Fiona’s topaz eyes gleamed. “Yours is even more delicious.”

Alex was watching the interplay between the sisters with open interest. “I can’t decide if I am hating that I was an only child, or if I owe my dad yet another debt of gratitude for stopping at just the one.”

“Sisters rock,” Fiona said at the same time Hannah put in, “Wouldn’t trade this little shrimp boat for all the lobster rolls in Maine. Perky tits notwithstanding.”

Fiona’s expression went all soft and mushy, and she nudged Hannah ever so gently. “You could stand to eat a few of those rolls. Just sayin’.”

Hannah looked at Alex. “I hope you’ll come around to the idea of not being an only anymore, because you’re about to add three siblings to your family tree, whether you want to or not.”

Alex’s smile wobbled a little. “I don’t cry either, so you need to cut that out right now.” Then Fiona opened her arms and they all found themselves in a sloppy, teary group hug.

Which was how Logan found them. “Did somebody die?”

Fiona looked up first, and snuffled loudly. “What? No. We’re welcoming Alex to the family fold.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Logan said to Alex with utmost sincerity. Then he turned to Hannah and his face split wide with a grin. “Welcome home, you.”

Hannah flew into his arms, then snuffled inelegantly all over his plaid work shirt. He was rock solid, as always. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Let me see this face,” he said, leaning back. He tipped up her chin and gently brushed the tears from her bruised cheeks, his own suspiciously bright.

“Welcome home, indeed, right?” For the first time, she was grateful to Calder and what had happened in that intersection. It gave her a convenient excuse for the waterworks she couldn’t seem to switch back to the off position. And if everyone was busy worrying about her injuries, they wouldn’t notice her natural spark had been dimmed for entirely different reasons.

Fiona took her sister’s arm. “Come on, let’s go see what magic we can create, then I’m going to show you the dress you’re wearing to rehearsal.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

Fiona eyed her without even a shred of curiosity. “You actually brought a bridesmaid dress? Let me guess. It’s tasteful, elegant, and not remotely mortifying. We’re shooting for humiliation in satin and tulle.”

Hannah thought about trying to brazen her way through it, but then broke and said, “Yeah, I got nuthin’.”

“That’s what I thought.” Fiona steered Hannah inside the big, rambling house, through the living room to the landing of the main stairs.

“I can’t wear anything of yours,” Hannah protested, “unless part of the humiliation factor is a floor-length dress that hits me just below the knees.”

“You’re not that much taller than me, Gargantua, and give me some credit. I trolled the secondhand stores. And Delia’s grandmother’s attic trunks.” She grinned and the light that twinkled to life in her dark gold eyes was nothing short of evil. “I think we found a winner.”

Hannah groaned and followed her sister up the stairs, across the open balcony hallway to the two smaller bedrooms that had once been hers and Logan’s. He’d long since claimed the master at the top of the stairs, and Fiona, whose childhood room had been off the kitchen on the main floor below, had taken her old room as soon as she’d left for college. Logan’s old room was now the guest room Hannah stayed in when she was home. Kerry had always had a room out in one of the additions that stretched out the back of the house toward the water, which had suited her more bohemian personality . . . and kept the riotous music and higher-decibel lifestyle she enjoyed at enough of a distance as to make her sibs feel less homicidal toward her. Most of the time.

“This wasn’t my idea,” Alex called up the stairs after them. “I’m fine with everyone just coming in jeans, T-shirt, and flip-flops.”

Hannah glanced down over the balustrade at her. “You did ask Fiona to help with the wedding preparations, right?”

Alex nodded. “She’s a brilliant New York interior designer and my future sister-in-law. What’s not to love about that combination?”

“See? Thank you,” Fiona called down over the railing, beaming triumphantly.

Hannah gave her sister a quelling look. “Public shaming in horrifying bridesmaid apparel, that’s what is not to love.” She glanced back at Alex. “So, yes, I blame you, too.”

“Now, now, play nice,” Logan said, chuckling.

“Oh, we are,” Fiona assured him, her smile turning to treacle. “Wait until you see the happening tuxedo jacket I found for you to wear.”

Despite being a towering lumberjack of a man, Logan visibly blanched.

Hannah hooted, suddenly feeling miles better. “Are you certain you know what you’re getting yourself into?” she called down to Alex as Fiona all but dragged Hannah into her bedroom.

Alex grinned up at them. “Oh, I have a pretty fair idea. You should see what she’s making
me
wear tonight.”

Hannah realized the tears had stopped. And she was smiling. Laughing. The pain of the accident forgotten, the pain of . . . everything else, shoved aside for now. Home. And family.
The cure for everything
. Then she had another thought and turned back to Fiona. “Did you get something for Kerry to wear? Because . . . you didn’t tell her to bring something, did you? God only knows what kind of tribal getup she’ll have found. She’s probably haggling with customs right this second over some kind of fang-covered bikini top. Or worse, they’ve already done the full-body cavity search and she’s in some small holding room somewhere. You know how she is. Has anyone heard from her? Is she still due in on Saturday?”

Hannah closed the door behind herself and turned around to find Fiona standing in front of her, eyes swimming in tears. “Oh no! Oh my God. What happened to her, Fiona? Tell me right now. I’m an attorney. I know people, highly placed people. We’ll help her no matter what she’s done. We’ll—ooph!”

Whatever else she might have said was squeezed out of her lungs by her sister, who had wrapped her up in a tight hug and was holding on for dear life. And, accident trauma or not, Hannah didn’t even take a whole second before wrapping her arms around Fiona’s soft shoulders and hugging her right back.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Fiona said, sniffling again, her face pressed against the annual police picnic T-shirt Barbara had given Hannah yesterday so she could get out of her Willy Wonka death-by-chocolate shirt.

With the memory of her now-ruined silk blouse, Hannah’s thoughts went immediately to Calder Blue’s twinkling, whiskey-colored eyes as they’d shared that private joke grin.
Bastard
, she thought, but realized she was grinning again now, even as tears pricked at the ends of her eyelashes.

“I have, too.”

“It’s so good to have you home. To be home.” Finally, Fiona loosened up her death grip and noticed Hannah’s T-shirt. “Barbara?”

Hannah nodded. “My blouse—well, you saw it. Everything happened so fast, and I guess I was more out of it than I realized. I didn’t even think about my luggage until I got to Barb’s last night. It was still in the back of my car. I picked it up this morning from Sal and he loaned me his nephew’s car to use.”

“So, I saw,” Fiona said, waggling her eyebrows. “Sweet.”

Hannah didn’t want to think about cars. Driving in general still made her feel vaguely queasy. “I haven’t had a chance to change yet.”

“I’ll get Logan to bring your stuff in.” Fiona smiled, her eyes filled with love. “God, I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve talked. Really talked. So much has been going on and I feel awful for not keeping up with you and, well . . . I’ve missed leaning on you. I try not to be the needy little sister, I really do. You always have your act so together, and I keep thinking that will be me someday.” Fi’s smile turned sardonic. “And we both know that is
so
never going to happen. I mean, let’s face it. The big three-oh is officially in my rearview mirror. I’m single, no prospects, no kids, my life is upside down, my business—” She waved a hand. “See? There I go. But I do want to talk to you while you’re here . . . maybe bend your ear a little. Get some sisterly life advice.”

Yeah. I don’t think I’m the one to talk to for life advice,
Hannah thought. If Fiona only knew. Thankfully she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Apparently she had her own life stuff going on, because, well, frankly, when did Fi not have life stuff going on? But Hannah would happily listen. Especially if it meant stuffing her own problems on a shelf for a little while longer.

Logan was the oldest McCrae sibling, but while they’d all three turned to him for things like killing spiders, changing tires, and intimidating ex-boyfriends, he was not the one they turned to for life advice. And though Barbara had always been a sounding board of sorts for all three McCrae girls, and loved them unconditionally, her brand of advice was more along the lines of the no-nonsense wisdom passed down by grandparents and well-intentioned clan elders.

So Hannah had, at a pretty early age, become the default mother figure for her two younger sisters. She remembered their parents, gauzy though her memories had become over time. She’d been five when they’d been killed in a car accident, the victims of a late-season, freak ice storm, but at barely three and just shy of two years old, respectively, Fiona and Kerry had only the many stories they’d been told to form their memories.

Just as she’d always done, Hannah put aside her own fears and insecurities to do her best to keep her siblings on even ground. The hard part wasn’t keeping her own life mess to herself; it was trying not to feel guilty that she’d been a little relieved to have Fiona and Kerry not needing her ear or shoulder lately.

Kerry had flown the family nest quite young, and for some time now had generally only needed her oldest sister for things involving international legal matters and the occasional help securing a bail bond. Fiona was the more traditional younger sibling, who turned to her big sister for help and advice on what Hannah had come to call the Big Three: job, living situation, men. Most of life’s problems fell under one of those categories, along with their occasional overseer: finances. Though, in all honesty, her sisters had generally taken care of themselves in that department. Where Kerry was concerned, Hannah tried not to think too much about how she was making that happen.

And I’ve hit the Big Three trifecta,
Hannah thought dourly, having recently divested herself of all three.

“We’ll have time, Fi,” she told her sister, dragging her thoughts firmly back to the here and now. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Fiona hugged her again. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.” She looked up; then just as quickly as she’d fallen apart, her expression cleared and turned shrewd and observational. “Now, let’s see what we can do about your face. Then we’ll work on the dress.”

Hannah might be the pro when it came to tackling the Life Big Three, but Fiona was the queen of the Girl Big Three: clothes, food, and makeup.

“I think I might have maxed out even your admirable skill set,” Hannah said. Without even looking, she could feel the color settling in more deeply around her eyes as the ache settled in with it. And not the kind of color one applied with a magic makeup wand.

“Never underestimate the power of a great foundation,” Fiona said, gently pushing her sister to sit on the delicate antique bench seat positioned at the foot of the old sleigh bed.

Oh, the stories that sleigh bed could tell, Hannah thought. So many nights of laughter, of tears, of plotting and planning, discussing the important subjects of their lives. At least they’d seemed life-or-death at the time.

Hannah sighed and thought how nice it would be if she could just crawl under the old quilt, curl up in a ball, and sink back into that time when figuring out how to sneak Billy John Buckley her phone number without Logan finding out, so Billy could invite her and Fiona to the Cove’s winter festival skate night with him and his younger, equally cute brother, had been the biggest crisis in their lives.

“Let me get my bag of magic tricks,” Fiona was saying, already bustling about again.

“If only the bridesmaids could wear veils, too, we’d be all set.” Hannah watched her sister move about and gather her things. Always most comfortable when she was doing something or creating something with her hands, that was Fi. Hannah wondered what was going on with her, what she hadn’t confided to her big sister, noticing for the first time, as she looked past the outrageous getup her sister was wearing, the tiny stress lines pinching the corners of Fi’s eyes and mouth. Here Hannah had been selfishly glad not to have to fake her way through phone conversations with her closest sib, happy and relieved knowing that at least Fi was doing well. Only clearly that wasn’t the case. Guilt made another stab.

“Want to talk now?”

Fi just got even busier sorting through what appeared to be a toolbox containing enough paraphernalia to make up the entire cast of Cirque du Soleil. Hannah might need all of that help and then some.

“Let’s just focus on the rehearsal this afternoon and the celebration tonight. Fergus is so excited to be hosting the dinner afterward at the pub, it’s almost comical. God, I love him.”

“Is that really what Alex wanted? Dinner at the pub? I mean, we all love Gus to pieces, but—”

“Oh, they have a special bond, those two. You’ll see. It’s ridiculously sweet. He was one of the first people she met here. In fact, he was the one who initially hired her for the lighthouse project. Without telling brother dearest.”