The Sweetest Thing (5 page)

T
wo days later, Tara woke up when someone plopped down on her bed. “It’s Wednesday,” Maddie said, adding a bounce to make sure
Tara was up.

“It’s also the crack of dawn.” Tara pulled her pillow back over her head and turned over. “Go away.”

Maddie yanked off the pillow. “
Wednesday
.”

“Sugar, you’d best at least have coffee brewing.”

Maddie reached over to the nightstand and handed her a cup.

Tara sat up and sipped, repressing the sigh that wouldn’t help anyway. Maddie had decreed Wednesdays to be “Team Building
Day.” The three of them had to spend every Wednesday together from start to finish until they learned to get along.

It was no surprise that they didn’t. They’d grown up separately, thanks to the fact that Phoebe had loved men.

A lot of them.

Tara’s father was a government scientist who’d come into Phoebe’s orbit and not known what hit him. After their divorce, Tara
had lived with her father. Actually, her father’s parents, since he’d traveled so much. Tara had spent only the occasional
summer with Phoebe, before her mother had inherited the Lucky Harbor Inn, so those visits had consisted mostly of camping
and/or following the Grateful Dead tour.

Maddie’s father was a Hollywood set designer. He’d also taken Maddie with him when his relationship with Phoebe had gone kaput.
Maddie hadn’t come back for summers, so she and Tara had been virtual strangers when Phoebe had died.

Chloe had no idea who her father was and didn’t seem to care. The only daughter raised by Phoebe, she had traveled around
at Phoebe’s desire. As a result of that wanderlust upbringing, Chloe tended not to worry about convention the way her sisters
did. She didn’t worry about much, actually. She lived on a whim.

Unlike Tara, who lived for convention, for order. For a plan.

When Phoebe died and left her daughters her parents’ inn, not one of them had intended to stay. And yet here they sat over
six months later: the steel magnolia, the mouse, and the wild child.

Having a Team-Building Wednesday.

This was their third month at it, and the days still tended to be filled with bickering, pouting, and even all-out warfare.
Today, Tara guessed, would be more of the same, but for Maddie’s sake she gamely rose and dressed.

First stop—the diner for brunch. Tara took grief from Jan, the woman who owned the diner. Tara’s boss was fifty-something,
mean as a snake unless she was taking money from a customer, and liked Tara only when Tara was behind the stovetop.

Which she wasn’t at the moment.

Tara managed to get them seated with only the barest of snarls. Chloe ordered a short stack and consulted with the Magic Eight
app on her iPhone, asking it if she was going to have a date anytime in the near future. Maddie ordered bacon and eggs with
home fries and talked to Jax on her cell about something that was making her blush. Tara ordered oatmeal and wheat toast,
and was busy calculating the balance in her checkbook. If that didn’t explain their major differences right there, nothing
could.

Afterward, in the already blazing sun, they walked the pier for the purpose of buying ice cream cones. In Maddie’s case, they
also went for getting on the Ferris wheel she’d once been so terrified of. They did that first, holding Maddie’s hand. They
might not see eye to eye on much, but some things could be universally shared, and ice cream and Ferris wheel rides were two
of them.

Lance served them the ice cream. In his early twenties, he was small-boned enough to pass for a teenager, and thanks to the
cystic fibrosis slowly ravaging his body, had a voice like he was speaking through gravel. He and Chloe were good friends,
or more accurately cohorts, trouble-seekers of the highest magnitude. Lance tried to serve them for free, but Chloe refused.
“We’ve got this,” she told him firmly, then turned to Tara expectantly.

Maddie snorted.

Tara rolled her eyes and pulled out her wallet.

“I’ll pay you back,” Chloe said.

“You always say that,” Tara said.

“Yeah? How much do I owe you?”

“One million trillion dollars.”

Chloe grinned. “I’ll get right on that.”

Tara looked at Maddie.

“You spoil her,” Maddie said with a shrug.

“Shh, don’t say that,” Chloe said. “She’s right here.”

Tara knew she wasn’t exactly known for the warm, loving emotions required to spoil someone, and that she could come off as
distant, even cold. This actually surprised her because she didn’t
feel
distant, although she’d like to try being so sometime.

It’d be nice not to worry about things like money, or the future, or her sisters. And Tara did worry continuously, about Maddie
and Chloe more than anything else—like whether Maddie was getting over her abusive ex and if Chloe would ever get over her
inability to show or trust love.

Because of the these things, Tara stayed in Lucky Harbor longer than planned. Or so she told herself.

“So what’s next?” Chloe asked as they walked back to the inn. “I wore my bathing suit in hopes of getting a tan.”

“We’re going sailing,” said the Team Building Day’s president.

“We went sailing last week and nearly killed each other,” Chloe said.

“We went
canoeing
last week,” Maddie corrected, “and
Tara nearly killed you because you tipped her over, and she’d been having a good hair day. Keep your hands to yourself and
you’ll survive today’s Team Building Adventure.”

“Hmm,” Chloe said, sending a long, steady look in Tara’s direction as they boarded the Cape Dory Cruiser, the sailboat that
had come with the marina.

They’d also inherited kayaks, canoes, a fishing boat, and one dilapidated houseboat. Most of these equated to some modest
rental income, and they were determined to wring every penny out of the place that they could.

They had to, seeing as they’d gone through money with alarming speed to get everything up and running. Maddie’s savings was
gone. Tara’s, too. It was a small price to pay, she reminded herself, for a new lease on life. A life that was lived the way
she wanted, and not for anyone else.

“Tara,” Maddie said, pointing, “you’re in the cockpit.”

“Yes!” Chloe triumphantly pulled off her skimpy sundress, revealing an even more skimpy red bikini beneath. “Time to sun,
ladies.”

Tara motored them out of the marina and looked at Maddie for further instructions.

“Point the bow into the wind,” Maddie said. She was the only one who knew what she was doing, having taken a few lessons from
Ford.

Tara had taken lessons from Ford, too. But that had been seventeen years ago, and the lessons she’d taken had
nothing
to do with sailing.

“What?” Maddie asked, making Tara realize she was smiling at the memory.

“Nothing.”

“That’s more than a ‘nothing’ smile,” Chloe noted.

Tara ignored her.

“Into the wind,” Maddie repeated to Tara.

Tara looked around to figure out which way the wind was coming.

“Quickly,” Maddie said. “Or you’ll swamp us.”

Tara didn’t know exactly what that meant but it didn’t sound good. The boat was lurching heavily to the right and then the
left on the four-foot swells; the wind was whipping her hair from all directions so she had no idea exactly which way was
“into the wind.”

“West!” Maddie yelled. “To the west.”

“Okay, okay,” Tara said, having to laugh at the sharpness in the former mouse’s voice. “To the west it is.” Just as soon as
she figured out which way was west exactly…

“
Left!
”

So Tara steered left.

“Pull the halyard!” Maddie called out.

Tara looked at her. “Say that again in English?”

“Hoist the sail!”

“You should add ‘aye, mate’ at the end of that,” Chloe told Maddie, spritzing herself with suntan lotion.

Maddie stood there, feet planted wide, wind whipping at her clothes, indeed looking like a modern-day pirate. “Pull it,” she
commanded as Tara hustled to do her bidding. “Crank it around the winch.”

Tara glanced at Chloe.

Chloe had her face tipped up to the sun, and she was smiling, the little witch. “Isn’t it Chloe’s turn?” Tara asked hopefully.

“Not yet,” Chloe said. “I feel my asthma acting up.” She gave a little
cough-cough
, then affected a wheeze. “See?”

Maddie laughed. “At least put some phlegm into it.”

Chloe began to work at wheezing and ended up coughing for real.

Tara sighed and began to hoist the sail.
She
wanted to be the pirate, dictating orders, thank you very much.

“Harder,” Maddie told her. “You have to do it harder.”

“That sounds dirty,” Chloe said.

“Unfurl the jib,” Maddie said, ignoring Chloe. “Hurry.” She actually made a very cute tyrant in her snug capris and a tank
top, looking fit and quite in charge even as she nibbled on potato chips—

Wait a minute
. Tara narrowed in on the chips. How unfair was that? “Hey, if you were a really good captain, you’d share those.”

Maddie peered in the bag, probably to assess whether she had enough to share. Tara knew that Maddie believed that chips were
God’s gift, the second best thing on earth. They used to be Maddie’s
numero uno
, but then she’d fallen in love with Jax, so sex had been moved to the top of the list.

Maddie had her priorities straight. And as she reluctantly offered Tara some chips, Tara knew it was time she got her priorities
straight as well.

They sailed for an hour, with Chloe sprawled out for maximum sun coverage, her fast-acting asthma inhaler tucked into the
string low at her hip. Her long red waves were corralled prettily in a ponytail sticking out the back
of a baseball cap that read:
DARE TO BE NAUTI
, and she had huge movie-star sunglasses perched on her pert nose.

Tara looked down at herself. She hadn’t dressed special for this adventure. She’d worn thin trousers and a fitted knit top
that was probably better suited for a day at the office, but it was what had been clean that morning. Besides, everyone knew
that it wasn’t so much what you had in the bank, or even where you rested your head at night—it was what you wore and how
you wore it. She turned to Maddie. “Tell me again why Chloe’s just lying there looking pretty?”

“Aw, thanks, hon,” Chloe said, not opening her eyes.

“Chloe’s going to get up now and reverse the entire process,” Maddie said. “And bring us back to the marina.”

Chloe sighed but obeyed and rolled lithely to her feet.

Tara gave Chloe a very immature
ha!
smirk and took the sun-worshipping spot. It took another hour to get back, and she spent that time enjoying the feel of the
boat rocking beneath her, the scent of the salty ocean air, and the warmth of the sun drying her damp clothes and skin. She
listened while feeling smug and superior as Maddie turned her bossiness on Chloe for a change.

“Watch your starboard,” Maddie called out when Chloe steered toward the marina as they came back in. “Starboard!”

“What the hell’s
starboard
?” Chloe yelled back.

“The right side! Watch your right side! Cripes, don’t you people retain
anything
?”

Chloe slid the usually easygoing Maddie a look. “Either you had too much caffeine this morning or you didn’t get laid when
you got up.”

Maddie rolled her eyes.

“Didn’t get laid,” Chloe decided.

“For your information, I got up too early to get…” Maddie lowered her voice to a whisper, “
laid
. And I have no idea how that matters.”

“It matters because you’re much more relaxed after Jax—”

“Chloe,” Tara said, not wanting her to tease Maddie, not about this. “Not
everything
revolves around sex.”

“It does when you’re not getting any,” Chloe muttered.

“Internal editor,” Tara said. “Get one.”

“I don’t want to hear from you.
You
could be getting plenty of the good stuff from Ford, you know that? I mean have you
seen
him look at you?”

Tara sighed. “You could start an argument in an empty house.”

“Or on a boat,” Chloe agreed, not insulted in the least. “And nice subject change. Why does talking about sex bother you?”

Tara shook her head. “You know that sometimes it’s okay to not talk at all, right?”

Chloe smiled good-naturedly. “I do tend to miss most opportunities to shut up.”

“Hey,” Maddie said. “That would make a good quip for the recipe box, Tara.
Never miss an opportunity to shut up—
Chloe!” she yelped, pointing ahead. “Watch the swell—”

Too late. The five-foot swell rose up and over the nose of the boat, splashing them all.

“You’re not paying attention at all,” Maddie said with reproach after she’d swiped the ocean spray off her face.

“You know what?” Chloe asked, tossing up her hands. “Sailing is too stressful for me.”