Shore Lights (20 page)

“You said you wouldn't meet me for coffee.”

“I thought you were turning into one of those Internet perverts you hear about.”

He winced. “Now, that hurts . . . and after all we meant to each other.”

She couldn't help it. He had a way about him that undercut all of her defenses and made her laugh. “Those heartfelt e-mails,” she said, “those declarations of doubling my purchase price . . . I'm bitterly disappointed.”

“I was going to e-mail the scans to you when I got home.”

“I wouldn't have opened the attachment,” she said, grinning. “I never open attachments from men I barely know.”

“The cautious type?”

“A girl can't be too careful.”
Girl? Don't push it, Maddy. You left
girl
behind a long time ago
.

It didn't seem to bother Aidan O'Malley. He seemed to get both her text and subtext, and the power of meeting someone who actually laughed at her jokes made Maddy downright giddy with pleasure.

His nose had obviously been broken on more than one occasion. A jagged scar ran down the right side of his face. His hair was shaggy and windblown and he needed a shave. The Irish fisherman's sweater boasted a few sorrowful moth holes on his left sleeve and the faded jeans fit the way jeans were meant to fit a man's body—

“You won't believe your eyes,” he said, and it took her a second to realize he was talking about the samovar.

“Two rusted wrecks in one day,” she said with a shake of her head. “You're right. I probably won't.”

“Did it clean up well?”

“Better than I do. I don't know what was in that concoction my mother used, but it performed a minor miracle.”

Olivia wafted out from the back room with the brown envelope dangling from her beautifully manicured hand. “I scanned it and e-mailed the image to you,” she said, handing Aidan the envelope. Again her glance quickly moved from Aidan to Maddy, then back to Aidan.

Don't worry, Olivia. There's absolutely nothing going on here
.

Aidan pulled a five-dollar bill from his back pocket and handed it to Olivia.

“I'll make out a receipt.”

Aidan made a
don't bother
motion with his hand, but Maddy shook her head. “Always get a receipt,” she said. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

Olivia's merry peal of laughter rang out. “Spoken like a true accountant.”

“You're an accountant?” Aidan asked.

“I'm lazy,” Maddy said. “I was always good with numbers, so I followed the path of least resistance.”

“I would've figured you for something a little less—” He stopped, fumbling for the right word.

“Boring?”

He grinned. “Practical.”

“I'm unemployed,” she offered with an answering grin. “Does that help?”

“Gina told me you were doing voice-over work in Seattle.”

“Did she tell you I was the voice of a talking Volkswagen?”

He laughed. “She skipped that part.”

“Wise choice.” She lowered her voice to a sultry pitch, placed her right hand on her hip, then said, “Name your price, baby.”

His laughter stopped. “You're kidding.”

She made an X over her heart. “Swear to God.”

“I hope they paid you big bucks for it.”

“Don't I wish. They planned a whole series of them, but sales plummeted.” She shrugged her shoulders. “They canned the ad manager and the entire team.”

“It was a lousy concept, but you sounded terrific.”

“Unfortunately most people remembered the lousy concept and forgot about who was terrific.”

“You have a great voice,” he said while Olivia soaked up every word and nuance of their conversation. “You should get out there and audition for more voice-overs.”

Pale skin: the Irish curse, even if you were half DiFalco. Her cheeks flooded with heat at his compliment until she was sure she looked like a boiled lobster.

“Not much call for voice-overs in Paradise Point,” she said.

“Yeah, but you're flanked by New York and Philadelphia.”

“Maybe some day,” she said, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with his enthusiasm. “Right now I have my hands full with Hannah and helping out around the Inn.”

“Are you back in town to stay?”

“For a while. Hannah's had a very rough year and I thought being surrounded by family might help.” She rolled her eyes. “I might've been wrong.”

He started to say something, but Olivia broke in. “Listen, you two, I hate to interrupt, but see that big yellow thing rolling past the window? I think it's called a school bus.”

They were out of the store in a flash. Maddy darted into the street, but Aidan caught her by the arm and drew her back to the curb as a black SUV with heavily tinted windows roared by.

“My God!” She placed her hand over her heart. “I didn't see it coming until you pulled me out of the way.” She touched his hand lightly. “Thank you!”

“Look both ways next time,” he said. “I won't always be here to pull you back.”

Their eyes met and once again everything else fell away. The street. The traffic. The big yellow bus. The curious friends and relatives watching them from the opposite curb.

“You forgot to show me the newspaper clipping,” Maddy said when she found her voice.

“We could take the kids for some hot chocolate at Julie's. I'll show you there.”

“Great idea, but that would ruin Hannah's surprise.” She hesitated. “Tomorrow morning, after the bus leaves? That is, if you're still subbing for Claire.”

“Sounds great.” They started across the street and just before they reached the other side, he bent down and whispered something in her ear and she burst into laughter.

Aidan looked sly and pleased with himself.

Maddy simply looked delighted.

“Not in a million years,” she said, loud enough for her cousins to hear. “Not a chance in the world.”

He didn't say anything at all. He just smiled that killer smile, the one she felt all the way down to her toes, then headed home with Billy Jr.

“You're going to tell us,” Gina said as soon as he and Billy Jr. were out of earshot. “Every. Single. Word.”

“Why did you follow him into Olivia's shop?” Denise demanded, shushing her kids, who were dancing in front of her for attention.

“Spill,” Delia said.

“Or else,” Gina added.

Hannah clutched Priscilla and watched her mother with big eyes.

“There's nothing much to tell,” Maddy said, which was literally true but substantively false. A perfect combination when dealing with nosy family and friends. “He was scanning an old newspaper photo of the original O'Malley's, and I wanted to see a copy of it.” She bent down and kissed Hannah on the top of her head. Her baby girl leaned against her hip, and a wave of love strong enough to bring her to her knees washed over Maddy.

They seemed to accept her answer, but then Pat piped up with, “How did you know he had it before you went into Olivia's shop?”

She angled her eyes down toward Hannah and shook her head.
Little pitchers
, her look said, and every mother there understood.

“Lucky guess,” she said, ignoring Gina's snort of derision.

“I'll bet old Olivia almost popped out of her Wonderbra when you followed him into the shop.”

“How the mighty have fallen,” Denise said with a mock sigh. “Aidan was the last holdout. Next thing you know O'Malley's will be sporting lace-edged menus all done up with fancy calligraphy.”

Even Maddy had to laugh out loud at the thought. It had been years since she'd been in O'Malley's, but she had the feeling little about the dockside bar and grill had changed.

“Mom-meee!” Hannah thrust Priscilla against Maddy's stomach. “Too heavy.”

“Too heavy?” Gina said to her little second cousin. “My hair extensions weigh more than that pooch.”

Hannah looked at Gina, then buried her face against Maddy's hip.

“Was it something I said?”

Yes, Gina, actually it was
. “She's shy,” Maddy explained for what seemed like the hundredth time since she returned home. Shyness wasn't one of the usual DiFalco family traits. Nosiness. Pushiness. A tendency toward cellulite. Now, those were family traits to be proud of. “It comes over her sometimes and we just have to wait it out.”

“She wasn't like that when we visited you guys last year,” Denise observed. “She's changed a lot.”

“Listen, guys, this really isn't the best time to have this discussion.” Her cousins had more children than Maddy could keep track of without a scorecard. You would think they would know better than to talk about a child as if she wasn't there. “I think Hannah and I better get Miss Priss home.”

“Wait!” Gina called out. “You still didn't tell us what Aidan said to you.”

That's right
, Maddy thought as she took her daughter's hand.
I didn't
.

 
“I HAVE NO idea what you're talking about,” Rose said to her sister Toni a few hours later. “Maddy isn't seeing anyone and certainly not Aidan O'Malley.”

“All I know is what I heard,” Toni said in that supercilious way that set Rose's teeth on edge. “My Gina said the sparks were flying this morning and again this afternoon. Your Maddy even chased after him into that Wentworth woman's paper store.”

Rose counted to ten and reminded herself that blood was thicker than water. God knew, it was certainly more annoying. “Olivia Wentworth doesn't own a paper store, Toni. Sy Gardstein owns a paper store. Olivia runs a gift shop that specializes in fine stationery.”

“It's a store and she sells paper,” Toni said. “Here I thought Maddy was walking around with a broken heart, and Gina tells me she's cozying up with Aidan to beat the band.”

Rose balanced the cordless between her ear and her shoulder and rummaged through the catchall drawer for Advil or Tylenol or a rubber hammer. Anything to put her out of her misery. Next thing you knew Toni would have them flinging off their clothes and having at it in front of the Super Fresh.

She popped two Advil and washed them down with Hannah's leftover glass of milk.

“And what difference would it make to you if Maddy
was
cozying up with Aidan O'Malley? I don't see how it's any of your business.”

Toni drew in a very audible breath, and Rose smiled at the image of her sister puffing up like a toad. “She's family,” Toni said indignantly. “I'm worried about her. I don't think she needs to get dumped by another man so soon after the last one.”

This from a woman who had been married four times and engaged six and still thought of herself as great wife material. It was more than Rose could handle. “Toni,” she said in as calm and cool a voice as she could muster, “you're a horse's ass.”

And with that she—still calm, still cool—hung up the phone.

Now Toni would have another scandalous tidbit to offer up to the rest of the family. She could just imagine her sister hitting that speed-dial key for all it was worth.

The thought did more to ease her headache than an entire bottle of Advil could.

Right on cue the telephone rang. Toni, most likely, determined to get the last word.

She picked up the receiver. “Unless you're calling to apologize, I don't want to talk to you.”

“Apologize for what?” the familiar voice questioned. “I've kept this old nose clean long as you've known me.”

How was it possible that the sound of a man's voice could carry you back through the years to a time when happiness sat on your doorstep, waiting to be invited in?

“Bill,” she said, curling the phone closer to her ear, “is everything all right? You don't usually call until Wednesday.”

Bill Bainbridge, her ex-husband and the love of her life, chuckled. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call you? You've been on my mind all day, Rosie. Instead of worrying, I figured I'd make a call.”

A delicious feeling of peace flowed through her body as she sank into Grandma Fay's old rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen. “Everything's fine here,” she said, closing her eyes so she could conjure up his image. His body was still tall and strong. Skin tanned nut brown from years of outdoor work. Thick white hair that was always a bit too long for Rose's taste. Hannah had his eyes, bright blue and questioning. Sailor's eyes even though Bill Bainbridge had no love for the sea. “Maddy's working on something in the office. Hannah's in there, too, playing with Priscilla.”

Our family, Bill. Our blood. Proof that once upon a time we loved each other and shared a life together
.

He was quiet for a moment and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Any improvement?” he asked after a bit.

“We had a battle over a rusted teapot,” she said, then launched into the story of the samovar, ending with the miracle of Fay's cleaning formula.

“So you admitted the teapot had some merit,” Bill said.

“I did,” Rose said. “And Maddy seemed very pleased with the results.”

“Our girl can do better than that,” Bill said.

“She was pleased,” Rose said again. “She thanked me. That's enough.”

“You're not talking to Lucy,” Bill said. “You're talking to me.”

“We're making progress,” she said. She thought about the look in Maddy's eyes when she saw the restored samovar, the tone of her voice. “Definite progress.”