Carolina Girl (10 page)

“Here.” She thrust the plate at Josh. “Pass this around.”

“. . . in my dresser,” Tess was saying as they trooped back into the bedroom.

Tom stood like a spar, stiff and motionless, as if he didn’t know or couldn’t find whatever she was talking about.

“I’ll get it, Ma,” Meg intervened. She set the flowers in front of the mirror. “What do you need?”

“My old jewelry box. In the bottom drawer,” Tess said.

Oh, crap
. Meg froze, suddenly comprehending her father’s reluctance. But it was too late to back out now. She glanced at Matt as she got the box and laid it on the bed. Her brother’s face was set like stone.

Tess’s hands trembled slightly as she opened a blue velvet box. “This was my mother’s ring,” she said to Allison.

The ring that Kimberly had never worn
, Meg recalled.
Had never wanted.

Shit
.

Allison looked stunned. The diamond winked in its basket setting, delicate, classic, lovely.

Small.
Meg winced.

“Of course, it’s a little old-fashioned,” Tess said into the silence. “You might want to change the setting. Or the stone. It’s not very big. But it’s—”

“It’s perfect,” Allison breathed. Her fingers gripped Matt’s arm. A flush rose to her cheeks. You would have thought Tess was offering her the Koh-I-Noor, at least. “Isn’t it perfect?” she asked Matt.

Tess’s face relaxed into smiles. “She wanted it to go to my oldest son.”

Allison held Matt’s gaze, her cheeks rosy with hope. “So it’s yours?”

He shook his head, looking deep in her eyes, raw emotion in his face. “Yours,” he said simply. “If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

Her eyes were dazed with wonder and shining with tears. “You know I will,” she whispered.

He kissed her, bruising the roses between them.

They might as well have been alone, Meg thought, despite the room full of family. There was no one else for either of them in that moment.

No one else, ever.

She turned away, swiping under her eyes with her fingertips. “Crap. Now you’ve made me cry.”

“Have some champagne,” Sam said with a smile.

She took the glass he offered and gulped. The fizzy liquid eased the tightness in her throat, but not the ache in her chest.

Matt and Allison’s embrace dissolved into happy chaos. Matt beamed as he ruffled Josh’s hair, as he ducked his punch. Allison was laughing, crying, her joy contagious. She rose on her toes to kiss Tom’s cheek, was hugged and thumped by Josh and Taylor, bent over the bed to receive Tess’s kiss and her blessing.

She belonged, Meg realized, laying the ghost of Kimberly to rest forever. With Matt. With all of them.

“You must be used to this,” Tom said to Sam.

His brows drew together.

“He means because your sister just got engaged,” Meg said hastily.
Not because your father’s been married four times.

“To a Navy man,” Tom said.

“Yes, sir. Chelsea’s following Ryan out to San Diego after the wedding.”

“Good for her.”

Of course her father would think so. Mom had traipsed after him for twenty years.

Tess looked up from admiring the ring on Allison’s finger. “That’s not what you said when we were first married.”

Meg had never heard that before. “What? Why not?”

“He was on his way to Cambodia,” Tess said.

“‘First in, last out,’” Matt quoted the Marine slogan softly, his gaze on his father.

“Well, obviously you couldn’t go with him overseas,” Meg said.

“He didn’t want me living on base, either,” Tess said.

“I thought your mother should be near her family. In case.” Tom cleared his throat. “It’s different for the squids.”

Sam’s brows rose. “You have a problem with the Navy?”

Tom grinned. “Nah. The Marines are a Department in the Navy.” He paused again for effect. “The Men’s Department.”

Josh snickered at the old joke.

“Why have you never married, Sam?” Tess asked.

Meg’s eyes met his with a jolt. What had he said to her a week ago?
I’m a little old to be blaming Daddy because I haven’t found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

He answered Tess slowly, his gaze on Meg. “If I could find a woman who bakes cookies like you, Mrs. Fletcher, I’d marry her in a minute.”

It was a gracious, even flirtatious, answer, made to the woman who had mothered him through his teenage years.

Tess laughed, pleased.

But he was looking at Meg.

That night as she lay in bed waiting for Derek to call, Meg caught herself dwelling on that look, reliving it, deciphering it like an adolescent girl with a high school crush.

If I could find a woman who bakes cookies like you . . .

I’ll bake you some cookies . . .

They’re made with love . . .

She flopped on to her stomach, punching the pillow in frustration. The mirror above her bureau reflected the lilies back into the room, their colors muted by night.

This was ridiculous. She had outgrown her juvenile fixation on Sam a million years ago. She’d moved on. They’d both moved on.

I’d marry her in a minute.

The scent of lilies drifted through the dark and followed her into sleep.

Nine

M
EG PROPPED THE
scarecrow against the inn’s front rail. Above her, she could hear scrapes and thumps as Tom lashed a life-sized crow’s nest to the roof of the porch.

The Pirates’ Rest always had gone overboard on Halloween.

“Mom, I’ve got this,” Meg said, tugging on the scarecrow’s velvet Blackbeard coat. “You should go inside and rest.”

Tess adjusted the eye patch on a stuffed parrot. “I want to help. There’s so much to do.”

There certainly was. Meg eyed the pile of pirate-themed decorations. “Have you and Dad ever considered cutting back on the whole ghost ship thing?”

“We have. We did. We’re not doing the Davy Jones’s Locker display this year.”

“Was that the one where the pool sprang a leak and flooded the front yard?” Meg asked dryly.

Tess laughed. “That was the Graveyard of the Atlantic. I talked him out of that one several years ago.”

“Right.” Meg plopped a plumed hat atop the straw pirate’s wig. “Seriously, Mom, no one expects you to keep up with everything this year. You were in a car accident.”

“Which didn’t kill me. It only slowed me down.” Tess’s jaw set. “I’m sick of feeling that I can’t do things. It’s Taylor’s first Halloween with us. I want it to be special.”

“Because nothing says ‘home for the holidays’ like a skull with flashing eyeballs singing,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
.”

Tess smiled and shook her head. “You know what I mean. It
is
a holiday, the first one of the off-season with all the tourists gone. It’s time to celebrate and reconnect as a community. Maybe it’s different in New York, but—”

“Hey, we have tourists in New York,” Meg protested. “And holidays. You should see Halloween in the Village!”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful. But it’s not the same.”

You could say that again.

More than miles separated Dare Island from the mainland. Its centuries-old isolation couldn’t be spanned by the bridge or eliminated by a ferry. It was bred in the bone. It lingered in the brogue, in the islanders’ fierce independence and their equal willingness to help their neighbors in times of trouble. Living in New York, Meg sometimes forgot how far she had come.

And how much she had left behind.

“Yeah, because you leave the decorations up for weeks,” she teased.

“We have two families coming this weekend with children,” Tess said placidly. “They’ll enjoy the decorations.”

“I thought you were looking forward to a Halloween without guests.”

“I’m happy to take time for just family, of course,” Tess answered promptly. “But we need our visitors to survive—not just the Pirates’ Rest, but the whole island. Besides, I like watching people check in all clutched up or stressed out, knowing our hospitality can help them relax and feel better.”

“Of course they’re relaxed. They get a holiday, and you do all the work.”

Tess’s gaze rested thoughtfully on her only daughter. “Is that what you remember about the holidays?”

Yes.
Meg flushed. “No.”

She didn’t want to criticize her mother or her choices.

There were always guests. There was always work. But her parents had been careful to preserve family time, too, rare vacations and regular Sunday dinners. Her father’s time in the Corps had made them flexible about scheduling celebrations. Meg remembered one year their Christmas tree had stood decorated in the family room until past Groundhog’s Day when Daddy came home from Lebanon. And on Halloween . . .

“We used to make the best popcorn balls.” A memory surfaced of forming an assembly line at the kitchen table, Luke’s sticky hands and Matt’s earnest face and the smell of caramel and vanilla thick in the air. “And caramel apples.”

Tess smiled and then sighed. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to manage popcorn balls this year.”

Of course not. Her mother had to hold on to the kitchen counter for support. There was no way she should be handling pans of hot candy.

“I could do it,” Meg heard herself say.

“Oh, honey. I can’t ask you to take on another responsibility.”

Meg shrugged. “So I’ll get the kids to help.” She watched the hope bloom in her mother’s eyes and added, “You can supervise. It’ll be fun.”

You need a little fun
, Sam’s voice whispered wickedly in her head.

Not that this was the kind of fun he had in mind. But at least she couldn’t get into trouble making popcorn balls.

* * *

W
HEN
T
AYLOR AND
Josh came up the back walk after school, Aunt Meg was waiting for them with milk and cookies and a list.

Living with Aunt Meg was like living with one of those birds that ran along the water’s edge. Always moving, always poking their beaks into everything.
Yellowlegs
, Uncle Matt said they were called.

It wasn’t enough for her to be busy, Taylor thought. She liked to find stuff for you to do, too, like homework or setting the table. Taylor envied Josh, who could get out of things by slipping away to the cottage he shared with Uncle Matt.

But not today.

“Halloween is
tomorrow
,” Aunt Meg announced like it was a big deal.

Which it wasn’t. Taylor had mostly avoided even thinking about Halloween this year. Mom had always made the holiday fun. Maybe because she was younger than the other moms, maybe because it was always just the two of them, but sometimes it was like they were kids together. Mom never bought little candy bars
. What’s fun about fun size?
she’d ask, and Taylor would giggle. Last year Mom took Taylor and her best friend Ashley to Goodwill to find some really cool stuff to dress up as hippies, and then Ashley’s dad took them around the neighborhood. But Taylor didn’t have a costume this year.

Her throat felt tight. Or a mom. It would never be just the two of them again.

Taylor dunked her cookie in her milk to soften it.

She had a father now, except she didn’t
know
him. She never knew what to say when he called.
Please don’t die
? That would be dumb.

When they Skyped, it was both better and worse. Better, because she could see for herself that he was safe. Worse, because there was no way to hide that they had nothing to say to each other. When he asked about school and if she was making friends yet, she lied and said yes. When she asked if he was okay,
he
said yes. Maybe he lied, too.

Things weren’t all bad. She had Grandma Tess and Grandpa Tom and Aunt Meg, when they were here. Which mostly they hadn’t been, since Grandma’s accident.

She had Uncle Matt and Josh and Allison. Rachel Wilson said that now that Uncle Matt and Allison were getting married, they would be their own family and they wouldn’t want Taylor around anymore.

Taylor bit her lip, watching the cookie crumbs settle to the bottom of the glass. That was not what Uncle Matt said. Uncle Matt said Taylor was staying, and she believed Uncle Matt. Anyway, Rachel was a butt.

But it was true Taylor didn’t have anybody to go trick-or-treating with this year.

Virginia Dare Island School was small. It wasn’t like her old school, with different groups, the girls who liked horses or Barbies or dodgeball and the ones who were already into boys. Here everybody hung out with everybody else. Which meant if you weren’t part of the whole group, you were really on your own, because there was nobody else to make friends with. Ever since Taylor had punched Rachel Wilson’s big brother, Ethan, in the stomach, she was out of the group. Nobody messed with her, because of Josh, but nobody liked her, either.

She shoved a cookie in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to think about it.

Aunt Meg ran her finger down the list by the phone. “You need to call your Grandma Jolene,” she said to Taylor.

Taylor’s heart slammed into her ribs. “Why?” she said around a mouthful of crumbs.

“Because she called you.”

Taylor swallowed hard to relieve the tightness in her throat. “I’m having a snack now.”

“After the snack, then.” Aunt Meg dug a big yellow bowl out from under the sink, muttering, “Popcorn. Popsicle sticks. Caramel. Candles.”

Josh waggled his eyebrows at Taylor. “It’s like watching Martha Stewart on crack.”

She smiled weakly, grateful for the change of subject.

Aunt Meg’s lips curved, but she pointed a finger at him like a gun. “You.”

“What?” he asked, all innocence.

“I need you to go to the organic farm for apples. And we need pumpkins for the sideboard and the hall. We’ll all help carve when you get back.”

Taylor slid a glance toward Josh. Pumpkins sounded kind of fun. And maybe if they were busy, Aunt Meg would forget all about phone calls for a while. “Can I carve my own?” she asked.

Aunt Meg pursed her lips. “Use a knife, you mean?”

Taylor nodded, her heart picking up speed. “I think Luke would let me.” She didn’t know. But maybe.

“Your dad,” Aunt Meg said.

Taylor nodded.

“We’ll see,” Aunt Meg said, which usually meant no, but maybe Taylor could talk to Uncle Matt. Uncle Matt let her work on his motorcycle. He might say yes.

“You want me to go to the Hamiltons’ farm?” Josh asked.

“You can take the truck.”

“Sweet.” Josh didn’t get a chance to drive Uncle Matt’s pickup very often. But he didn’t sound happy.

Aunt Meg narrowed her eyes. “Problem?”

“Not exactly.”

Taylor stared at her milk. She knew why Josh didn’t want to go to the Hamiltons’. It was because of the Hamiltons’ daughter, Thalia, who used to come over sometimes to eat pizza and do newspaper stuff with Josh. Taylor liked Thalia. She had big black glasses that made her look smart, and she talked to Taylor like an actual person with a brain instead of treating her like a baby.

Taylor thought Josh liked Thalia, too. Anyway, she was pretty sure she’d seen them kissing. Okay, not kissing, exactly, but they’d jumped apart on the sofa when Taylor came into the room like Uncle Matt and Allison did sometimes.

But after that, Josh and Thalia had some kind of fight.

Now Thalia didn’t come over anymore. No more pizza dates. No more other girl in the house to make Taylor feel a little bit less like a freak.

Taylor had tried talking to Josh.
You could invite her over sometimes when you’re watching me. I don’t mind.

But he just got this weird look on his face and changed the subject. It was like he was
avoiding
Thalia. And that wasn’t right, because Thalia was nice.

“All right, then.” Aunt Meg gave Josh some money. “Off you go.”

He stuffed the bills in his pocket and grabbed the last cookie. “Come on, shorty. You can help pick out the pumpkins.”

“I thought Taylor could come to the store with me.” Aunt Meg looked at Taylor and smiled almost shyly. “Unless you’d rather go with Josh,” she added, like Taylor actually had a choice.

Taylor was torn. Part of her wanted to tag along with Josh. Finding a cousin was like having the big brother she’d always dreamed of, tall and cool and carelessly kind. And picking pumpkins sounded like a lot more fun than shopping with Aunt Meg. Maybe if she went, she could say something, do something, to get Josh and Thalia to make up.

Except she knew in her heart that
that
wasn’t going to happen. Having a little kid along was not going to fix things.

But having some time alone together might.

“No,” she said nobly. “I’d rather come with you.”

Aunt Meg looked surprised and then smiled. “Okay.”

Taylor swallowed a little lump of guilt at lying to her aunt. It wasn’t
that
big a fib. Not compared to the other lies she’d told.

* * *

“N
UTS OR NO
nuts for the caramel apples?” Meg asked, holding up a bag of pecans.

Taylor hitched a shoulder. “I dunno.” Her tone said,
I don’t care.

Meg suppressed a sigh. Okay, so the Island Market wasn’t Bloomingdale’s. It wasn’t even the mall. Meg wasn’t winning any Aunt of the Year Award by bringing her niece grocery shopping. But at least Meg was trying. Couldn’t Taylor pretend to be interested?

“Nuts,” Meg said, tossing them into the basket. “Then we can make some with and some without.”

Taylor nodded without enthusiasm.

“Meg?” asked a female voice. “Meg Fletcher?”

Meg turned. A dark-haired young woman with a mermaid tattoo on her arm smiled at her from behind a shopping cart.

Meg’s mind went blank.

“It’s Cynthie,” the woman said. “Cynthia Lodge?”

“Cynthie.
Hi.
”

A genuine rush of nostalgia and affection caught Meg like a ripple at the water’s edge. She and Cynthie were in the same grade in school. Cynthie smoked, she drank, she was always cutting classes. Once Meg started taking honors and AP courses, they’d only had gym together. But Meg would never forget how kind the other girl had been when Meg first moved to the island.