Summer on Lovers' Island (27 page)

“If I know Josh, he's the model of efficiency and professionalism. He can hide his feelings quite well, too, you know.”

Except he'd let Lizzie in, she realized. He'd told her things about his marriage, about his life, that she was sure he hadn't shared freely elsewhere. And that made her feel even worse.

They arrived at the home just after lunch. Lizzie had picked up some yarn at Treasures, just as she'd promised during her last visit. She also brought a few treats from the bakery, not knowing what might tempt her mom this time and hedging her bets. And then she prayed it was a good day.

It was not.

There were moments of lucidity, but Rosemary was easily agitated and even the acceptance of the yarn was underwhelming. Rosemary kept looking for her purse since she seemed to think she owed Lizzie money, which Lizzie took just to appease her mom's agitation and then put back when she wasn't looking. Charlie's eyes were soft with sympathy as they sat for tea and sweets. Lizzie didn't even mention putting the house up for sale. On a good day maybe, but today she didn't want to upset her mom any more than she already was.

By three o'clock Lizzie was exhausted.

They were back in the car and driving home when Lizzie let out a huge breath. “Damn. I should be visiting more often. At least every week.”

“Why aren't you? Is it the long drive?”

“It's not that long. I don't know. I think I'm scared of what I'll find each time.”

Charlie reached over and patted her thigh. “Sweetie, I can't imagine what that's like. But maybe if you visit more often, the changes won't seem as drastic. I don't know what the answer is.”

“You see the difference, don't you?”

Charlie pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Unfortunately, yes. I know today wasn't a good day, but she's not as steady as she used to be, either. She's in the right place. If you tried to look after her at home, you'd constantly be worried about falls and accidents and you'd have to hire help. And then you'd exhaust yourself at night when you had to do it alone.”

What Charlie was saying made sense. “I just wish I didn't feel so guilty. Every time I leave her I feel like the worst daughter in the world.”

Charlie knit her brows. “Now you stop that. You are not the worst daughter. You're giving her the kind of care she needs, for her sake, not yours. And I'm sure if you asked, her doctor would approve her going out for a day with you. You could spend some time together outside the facility.”

Another good idea. What if she brought her mom to Jewell Cove for a day? They could visit the wharf, eat lunch on the deck overlooking the ocean, maybe even stop by a shop or two and pick out something nice and pretty she could put in her room. Or go to Treasures for more yarn.

“What about your mom, Charlie?” Lizzie changed the subject. “Are your parents going to visit when the baby is born?”

Charlie laughed. “Oh, they'll come up for a few days, I suppose. Probably stay at the inn, since the motel won't quite meet their standards. I don't think they're as thrilled about being grandparents as I'd like. But then, I didn't expect it, either. I'm happy, and that's what matters. Their expectations don't bother me anymore.”

“I wish I could get to that Zen place,” Lizzie lamented. Problem was, she didn't really know anymore what would make her happy. Until she figured that out, she felt all over the map. The one thing she kept clinging to was going back to her job in Springfield and picking up where she'd left off. She wasn't sure that was possible, though.

They were half an hour outside Jewell Cove when Charlie's face brightened. “Oh my gosh, I forgot to ask you. Have you heard anything about the stuff Josh found out at Aquteg Island? Apparently he found a locket and coins or something.”

Lizzie felt her face heat. “I heard,” she answered, not wanting to elaborate. “Any news about what he's going to do with it?”

“It's all hearsay. Dave heard it from Rick, who was down at the waterfront, but apparently the coins are real and he gets to keep them. He took the locket to Abby and Tom, to see if it belongs to Tom's family. Abby's found a lot of photos at Foster House, and Tom's family probably have some, too. I guess the locket has a picture of a man who might be Charles Arseneault. Isn't it exciting? I haven't been here long and even I know the story of the rumored treasure out there. People will be going crazy now looking for more.”

The idea of the island crawling with treasure hunters made Lizzie feel a little bit ill. She'd started to think of it as her and Josh's little paradise, wild and untouched. Which wasn't accurate at all, but lately none of her feelings seemed logical.

“What's he going to do with it?” Lizzie hadn't asked Josh any questions. Asking about the leather bag and its contents would only remind them of that afternoon, and she was trying to avoid that as much as possible.

“No one knows. He could sell the coins and make a killing, I'm guessing. Though Josh doesn't strike me as someone who cares too much about being rich.”

No, he didn't. Josh was just … Josh. Lizzie had often heard the saying “enough is as good as a feast,” and that definitely applied to him. She flashed back to a memory of him splashing into the water, diving under, and coming up with his eyes twinkling. Perhaps Josh had had enough heartache in his life that he focused on appreciating the simple things.

Charlie winced and let out a breath. Lizzie frowned as she glanced over. “You okay?”

“Just Braxton Hicks. I've been having them for a few weeks now. They're just uncomfortable. Twingy.”

“You've got a plan if you go into labor, though, right?”

Charlie nodded. “Dave's got his cell on him at all times now. My hospital bag is all packed. First babies take a while anyway, Liz. We'll have time to get there.”

“You call me if you need anything, though, okay?”

“I know. And if my feet puff up like mad or I get a blinding headache I'll call you. I know my BP is up.”

“You're patronizing me, but I don't care as long as you mean it.”

Charlie smiled. “I love you, Liz.”

“Well, right back at you.”

*   *   *

Dave was waiting for them, standing on the front step when Charlie arrived. Lizzie watched as Charlie got out of the car, an awkward motion due to her advanced pregnancy, with a bright smile for her husband. Dave was so big that when he hugged her she all but disappeared in his arms, and Lizzie felt that stupid pang again in her chest.

She was jealous. Not that she begrudged her best friend one iota of happiness. But no one had ever looked at Lizzie like that.

Except once. At the top of the island, there'd been a moment when Josh had gazed into her eyes and it had been like lightning.
Boom! Crash!
In that brief moment, no one else in the world existed.

And she'd thrown it away.

 

C
HAPTER
18

After looking for the treasure on Aquteg Island for the whole of his life, it seemed, now Josh didn't want anything to do with it.

He sat at his kitchen table and stared at the leather bag. When he looked at the pouch all he could see was Lizzie's face as she picked up the blanket to fold it, her hair blowing in the wind and a stubborn expression on her face. And he second-guessed himself constantly. He'd said he wasn't “built that way,” but the truth was he missed her. Seeing her every day at work was nothing short of torture. His brain was thinking just fine, but his body hadn't gotten the message, because every time they passed in the narrow corridor all he wanted to do was press her against the wall and kiss her senseless.

But he didn't. He watched her go by with her tidy hair and starchy white coat and told himself it was for the best.

Ian Martin, one of the town's lawyers, had looked into the matter and it turned out that the coins, which were genuine, belonged to Josh. He didn't care about their worth, but he knew someone who did. Or rather something. The Jewell Cove Historical Society. They'd been trying to set up a permanent home for years and had lobbied hard for Foster House when Abby had inherited it. Right now they made their home in a smaller house on Schooner Street, just one block off Main. It was a hundred and fifty years old and always needed renovating and restoration. Josh figured that he'd give them half the coins for their collection and the other half he'd let an agent auction for him and he'd give them the money to make some changes to the house. It only made sense. He certainly didn't need the money.

The locket, on the other hand, was a different matter. After he went through the faded photos from the Arseneaults and at Foster House, not to mention the few the historical society had, it had been easy to identify the man in the photo as Charles Arseneault. They also appeared to confirm that the woman in the opposite photo was his wife, Constance Arnold.

Josh felt Tom was more entitled to the locket than he was, so he gave his cousin a call and they made plans to meet at Josh's on Friday night, as long as the weather held out. The forecast model showed a tropical storm forming in the Atlantic, and if the path was right Friday night and Saturday could get messy.

Which made him think of Lizzie at the cottage all alone. If the storm strengthened to a hurricane, she'd need to do some prep.

And then he reminded himself that she was a grown-up, competent woman. And that Tom was the landlord of the cottage and he'd see to any preparations that needed doing.

Lizzie had made it perfectly clear that she didn't need Josh … at all.

*   *   *

Lizzie hopped in her car and put the bag containing her supper on the passenger seat. The spicy scent of Pasta Pomodoro filled the air, and she'd splurged on a salad and order of tiramisu. It had been a hell of a day. First of all, seeing Josh for eight solid hours was enough to try any woman's willpower. Then she'd had the world's grumpiest senior citizen in with a case of gout, a chain-smoker with emphysema wondering why he was having more trouble breathing, a fifty-something woman on the wrong side of menopause, and, to end the day, a four-and-a-half-year-old little girl who was deathly afraid of needles needing her immunizations before she started school.

Every day had its difficult patients, but today it seemed like they all ended up in Lizzie's exam room at once. To top it off, there was no need to worry about the broken condom. She'd gotten her period, and she was grouchy and crampy and ready for the day to be over.

She was really, really looking forward to some of Gino's spicy sauce, pasta, and a big glass of a Montepulciano she was fond of.

When she finally turned into the drive of the cottage, her appetite suddenly took a nosedive. There was no mistaking the Mercedes in the driveway. It was Ian Fortnam's. What in the world was he doing here?

She pulled in beside his car and turned off the ignition. Nerves twisted around in her stomach. Sure, she'd been thinking more and more about Springfield lately and her job there, but she was utterly unprepared to find Ian at her home.

Correction: at the cottage. It wasn't her home. She bit down on her lip. Even if it felt very much as if it were.

She got out of the car, noticed his was empty. But when she shut her car door, he appeared around the corner of her deck. “Lizzie!” he called, smiling and waving.

“Ian. What a surprise.” Wasn't it, just. She pasted on a smile and reconciled herself to the fact that dinner would have to wait. She had to find out what he wanted first. He looked exactly the same as she remembered. Khaki pants, perfectly pressed; button-down shirt, expensive; reddish-brown hair, precisely cut and with a hint of product to keep it in place.

“This place is great. So rustic and … isolated.”

She frowned. It was, but did he have to make it sound so unappealing? “It's very peaceful,” she replied. “Especially in the mornings, when I run on the beach.”

She went to the front door. “Hang on a minute. I'll let you in through the patio doors.”

She dumped her bags on the counter and went straight to the doors, flipping the latch and sliding them open. “Come on in. I didn't know you were coming or I wouldn't have stopped on the way home from the clinic.”

He gave a cursory look at the cottage. “Wow. This is really roughing it for you.”

She forced a smile. “You think? I mean, it's simple, but it's got all the amenities and a gorgeous claw-foot tub. I've been very comfortable this summer. Plus the breeze off the ocean is fabulous.”

“Yes, you do have quite a view. I was enjoying it as I waited for you to come home.”

“Can I get you something to drink, Ian? Then we can go out on the deck and you can tell me what brought you all the way to Jewell Cove.”

“A gin and tonic if you've got it.”

Lizzie blinked.
Right.
G&T was Ian's preferred drink, and in her condo she'd always had some on hand in the liquor cabinet. “I'm afraid I don't,” she apologized. “But I can offer you a glass of wine or a beer. And I think I have a few sodas in the fridge.”

Ian's eyebrows rose. “I guess I'll have a soda. I'm not much of a beer man.”

She went to the kitchen, aware that Ian was behind her.

“Wow, there's not much room in here.”

She shrugged, more annoyed by the second. “There's just me, and you know I've never been much of a cook. I don't need a big kitchen.”

Which reminded her that her pasta was still on the counter and she was damned hungry. What was he doing here that he couldn't say with a phone call, anyway?

She took out a can of soda and handed it to him, then took the bottle of open pinot grigio and poured herself a glass. She was dying to ask him why he was here but wanted to be patient. Cool.

In control. Resigned, she put her food in the fridge.