Summer on Lovers' Island (8 page)

“Hey, Uncle Josh. It's your turn. Quit staring at the girls.”

He looked down at his nephew, who was grinning up at him cheekily. “What do you know about it, short stuff?” Josh looked at the ladder and noticed two of Matt's throws had scored three points each. “Damn. No fair. I was distracted.”

“Too bad, so sad,” Matt answered.

When the game finished, Matt went off to meet up with a couple of his friends to play fetch with Rick's dog and Josh wandered over to the snack table. His contribution to the day was chips and salsa, but he'd made an attempt to be festive and bought red, white, and blue corn tortilla chips. Apparently Sarah's need to have every food group represented was quashed today, since the other offerings included chips and dip and pretzel twists.

From the corner of his eye he saw Lizzie, holding a glass full of something that was a greenish yellow and looked very citrusy and refreshing. She put the straw to her lips and took a sip of her drink, not a hair or thread out of place.

He'd had time to think about her on his way home from the game this afternoon, think about why she set him on edge so often. It was the two Cs: Competence and Class. Lizzie had them in abundance. Erin had them as well. And he'd spent a good part of his marriage feeling like he wasn't good enough. Part of it was because of where Erin came from. The other part came from knowing that deep down his wife had really been in love with another man. Lizzie made him feel the same way. Like she was way out of his league. It was hard on a man's ego.

As if she felt him staring at her, she looked over and met his gaze. She smiled and gave a little wave before turning back to her conversation. To his surprise, she put her hand on Sarah's arm and seemingly excused herself. His pulse sped up as he realized she was coming his way, his palms started to sweat, and he wondered why on earth it should matter at all. She was his coworker, for Pete's sake. He was technically her boss. He shouldn't feel this way … like the unpopular kid on the sidelines of the gym, wondering if the girl walking toward him was going to ask him to dance.

“Hey,” she said softly as she caught up with him.

“Hey yourself.” Why the hell was he so nervous? “You look nice.”

She looked down for a moment. “Um, thanks. I wasn't sure what the dress code was for this sort of thing.”

He realized she was the only one wearing a dress. “Things tend to be casual around here. My mom hasn't worn a dress since Jess's wedding, I don't think, and the girls…” He looked sideways, then back up at Lizzie. “Jess tells me that she hates dresses right now.”

Lizzie took a sip of her drink. “Your sister is beautiful, Josh. Almost eight months pregnant and rockin' the boyfriend jeans look. I don't know another pregnant woman who could pull that off.”

Boyfriend jeans?
Before he could ask what that meant, he heard Lizzie apologizing.

“Josh, I'm sorry about this afternoon. I didn't mean to criticize.”

He met her gaze evenly. “No, I should apologize. I was touchy and I shouldn't have been.”

“It's just that we have to work together and I'd rather there wasn't any friction.” She took another sip and he wondered if she was doing it just to mask her discomfort. She didn't seem like the kind who would enjoy this sort of conversation. Put her in the middle of a medical emergency and she was in her element. This, though? Awkward.

“I agree.” He did, and then some. She looked far more approachable today, without her white coat and neat bun. “Look, what you said … it's my issue, not yours. Basing things on appearances is a bit of a hot button for me, that's all.”

“Like me asking why you drive a death trap?”

A laugh burst out before he could help it. “Hey. The Beast is not a death trap.” When she smiled around her straw, he added, “No more than driving around with the top down.”

“Touch
é
.” She laughed lightly. “Honestly? The car was my dad's. He treated himself to it two years ago, when he was looking for something fun. I was driving a plain old boring Toyota until a few months ago. And I mean plain. Like
beige
.” She emphasized the color with an eye roll.

He laughed despite himself.

“I do know how to have fun, you know. Ask Charlie. She was the stick-in-the-mud when we were in college.”

“So what changed?”

“What do you mean?” She picked up a blue tortilla chip and bit off a corner.

“I just … You seem, I don't know, guarded. So serious all the time.”

Her cheeks flushed a little. “Oh. Well, my dad died last winter.” She shrugged casually, but her eyes were dark and sad as she said the words quietly, the somber tone a contrast to the happy summer music and laughter filling the yard.

Josh felt like a jerk. “I'm sorry to hear that. Was he ill?”

She shook her head. “No. He was semiretired. A trauma specialist. He wasn't even seventy, so we didn't see the stroke coming. He's the reason I became a doctor, and we were really close. It seems weird, not having him with me anymore.”

“It can be hard to live up to your family's expectations.”

She frowned. “Oh, Dad didn't put that kind of pressure on me. When I was little, he used to tell me, ‘Lizzie, no one ever got anywhere by dreaming small. Dream big. Have adventures.' And then when I got older he was the one who advised me to leave work once in a while and cut loose.” She smiled wistfully. “He wasn't always like that. When I was little, he worked a lot. But one time I heard my mom put her foot down and say that he had a marriage to look after and not just a job. He really made an effort to balance life after that. We used to take these ski trips every year. My mother nearly had a fit when he decided the two of us were going heli-skiing.” Her face softened, and then she blinked quickly four or five times.

No mention of where her mother was now, but Josh didn't want to pry too much when Lizzie was already upset. Clearly she had adored her father. Josh also found it very telling that she mentioned his death but not a word about the situation at her last job. For some reason he liked her more for it, and what it said about her that she'd chosen losing her father as the defining moment of the past six months.

“I lost my dad when I was young,” he offered. “It was also really sudden. I know it can throw you for a loop, especially when the presence has been a strong one. It'll get better, though.” He smiled at her encouragingly, and when she looked at him, her lashes slightly damp, something changed inside him. She wasn't the uptight city girl who drove into town in her flashy car and made judgments. In that moment of honesty, Lizzie Howard went from being temporary coworker to friend. And Josh always made sure to look out for his friends.

“Uncle Josh, Mom says to stop hogging the chip bowl.” Matt popped up beside them and let out the string of words all at once, without a pause. “Oh, and to ask you if I can get you a refill, Dr. Howard.”

The interruption broke the strange spell between her and Josh, and he took a step back. Lizzie let out a breath and smiled. “Oh, that would be lovely, Matthew.” She handed over her glass and Matt dashed away. “He's a cute one,” she murmured.

“A good kid, but all boy, too,” Josh said affectionately, somewhat relieved they'd left the heavy conversation behind them. “It's too bad he doesn't have any brothers or cousins. When we were little, the four of us—me, Rick, Tom, and Bryce—did everything together.” He grinned. “Good and bad. Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope. Only child. Charlie's the closest thing to a sister I've ever had.”

“She says that about you, too. She's really mellowed out since she and Dave got together. It's kind of cute.”

They both looked over at Charlie and Dave, who were holding hands as they chatted to Todd Ricker and a young woman Josh didn't recognize. “They're adorable,” Lizzie said. “It's almost sickening, except I'm so glad to see her happy that, well, you know.”

“Wedded bliss isn't for you, Dr. Howard?”

She tilted her head and gave him a sideways look. “I wouldn't know. I haven't been close enough to it to give it a serious thought.”

He laughed. He couldn't help it. She was so dry, so delightfully cynical, that he felt an instant bond. “God, and here I thought I was the only one not enthralled with the idea of marital bliss.”

Matt came back with Lizzie's drink and she thanked him briefly before he went running off again. “But … you were married before. You don't intend to do it again?”

He'd walked right into that question, and he should have known better. This was what happened when you got comfortable with someone. You tended to forget the walls and boundaries you'd built to protect that soft underbelly. And for Josh, that weak spot was Erin.

“I loved my wife,” he said, knowing that was the truth. “But it wasn't enough. And now she's gone.”

With that cryptic response, he offered a quiet “excuse me” and went to help Rick at the grill.

*   *   *

As the guests kept coming, the noise in the backyard rose. Lizzie met a ton of new people, all of whom were friendly and welcoming. The lime coolers were deliciously crisp and tart and by seven she was grateful for food. She found herself sitting at a picnic table with Josh's mom, Meggie, and Tom and Abby Arseneault, and an older woman who introduced herself as the town busybody and member of the historical society. Lizzie hadn't talked to Tom since the day she'd moved into his cottage, and they got caught up chatting about the house and the nearby beach. Abby, she learned, was relatively new to Jewell Cove, having arrived just over a year earlier, and it was nice to talk to someone else who had a newcomer's eyes.

Rick's ribs were fall-off-the-bone delicious, and Jess had cooked corn in a massive canner that Lizzie figured was also used for lobster and other backyard “boils.” Sarah's potato salad disappeared quickly, and there were fluffy white rolls and coleslaw, too. Just when Lizzie was sure she couldn't eat another bite, Jess came out carrying a cake to rival any July Fourth dessert she'd ever seen.

It was a huge rectangular sheet cake with white icing. Blueberries were in the top left corner making the “stars” part of the flag, with rows of ripe raspberries forming the “stripes.” Right in the middle was a sparkler ready to be lit, and all the kids in attendance bounced around, wanting to see the sparkler and get the first pieces. Before long the younger crew was temporarily quiet as they gobbled up cake and vanilla ice cream.

It was a very fun evening, but the whole time Lizzie was aware of Josh. The serious expression from earlier was gone, and he smiled and chatted and laughed and looked all-around happy. She wondered how much of it was an act. There'd been something strange about what he'd said. Not that he'd loved his wife or that she was gone—that was expected. But the part about not loving her enough. What did he mean? Had their marriage not been as happy as everyone let on?

She held off on the coolers now; she'd started feeling fuzzy around the edges and had no desire to drink too much and possibly say something inappropriate. She wondered if that actually did make her a stick-in-the-mud as Josh had intimated earlier.

“Sue me for being responsible then,” she muttered to herself. Maybe she should check with Charlie. See if she and Dave were anywhere near ready to leave.

But Charlie was determined to stay until the fireworks at ten, which would take place on a barge out in the cove and could be seen right here from Rick's backyard. Lizzie helped clean up the mess from dinner and when it was over found herself perched on the edge of a picnic table with a cup of coffee.

Alone.

Despite what Sarah and Charlie had insisted, there weren't singles here. The crowd was a mix of late twenties and thirties, with the odd older couple in attendance. There were babies and toddlers and elementary school children, and while hearing their happy laughter was nice, it did serve to make Lizzie feel more out of place. Sure, Josh's mom was attending alone, but she was sitting with her sister, Barb, and brother-in-law, Pete, and that didn't count. As far as Lizzie could tell, she and Josh were the only two singletons in the bunch. And she wondered if her invitation had been more than just a friendly one or if she'd been maneuvered in his direction.

How mortifying.

To make matters worse, Josh came over and hopped up on the table next to her. “So,” he said conversationally, as if the earlier tension hadn't existed, “are you counting by twos as well?”

She laughed. If he wasn't going to bring up their last talk, she wouldn't, either. “You noticed.”

“I think we were manipulated. Or at least you were. I would have been obligated to come as both team member and family.”

“Well, maybe I should be flattered.” At Josh's questioning look, she smirked a little. “Hey, according to a reliable source, they can't throw Summer Arnold at you forever.”

The scowl on his face made Lizzie's evening, and she caught herself chuckling.

“Have you met Summer?” he asked. “She's nice enough, but I can't get past the constant hair color changes or the nose ring. I suppose that makes me the uptight one, huh?”

“If the shoe fits,” she replied. “So … was she the one painting faces today? She stood out.”

“That's her.” He took a sip of his coffee. “How was your dinner?” he asked, resting his elbows on his knees. “I saw you ate with my mom, and Tom and Abby.” He looked over at Lizzie. “Almost like you were avoiding me.”

“I don't avoid people. Besides, you were the one who walked away from me.”

“About that…”

She noticed he ‘d put his hands together and was rubbing his right thumb over his left knuckle. Nerves?

“I don't know what people have told you about me. But it'll get back to you eventually. I should probably just give you the lowdown now to avoid any future awkwardness.”