Gillian's Do-Over (19 page)

“Hello? Am I at the right place?
Are you Homebody, er, Wade?”

The man looked up and pushed a shock of gray hair out of his startling green eyes
. The color of his eyes and his close-cropped beard were details she hadn’t noticed in his online picture. He stood up to his full height—must be over six feet, she thought—and a slow smile transfused his face.

“Are you Gillian?”

“That’s me.”

“C
ome aboard. We can stow your gear in the cabin.” He reached for her hand and helped her step from the dock into the boat.

She looked around. Several other people nearby
seemed to be readying their boats for a day on the water.

“What do you think of my lady, here? Her name is
NancyAnn
. Named after my two daughters.”

“Very nice. I don’t know much about boats. Do you have to put
out the sail to make it go?”

“You mean
unfurl them?” He chuckled. “It’s got inboard power. So the answer is no. But, once we’re out on the water, I’ll hoist the sails. It’s quieter that way. Prettier, too.”

“Oh. So I won’t have to lean over the side like I’ve seen in pictures?”

This time, he laughed outright. “Maybe, but I doubt we’ll have the kind of breeze that would require you to do that when we’re tacking.”

“How many sails do you have?”

“Two.” He moved toward the stern of the boat and reached for a fender.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “This is my fi
rst time on a boat like yours. A long time ago, I was on a boat that had a motor.”

“
Don’t worry. I can handle this one by myself. But, if you want to make yourself useful, could you pull in those fenders when I tell you, and then put them out again when we go through the locks?”

“Sure.” She scrambled to pull in the
rubber bumpers hanging down between the boat and the dock after he started the inboard engine. Gillian felt a low rumble through the soles of her shoes.

Wade eased the boat away from the berth and they follow
ed two other boats headed toward the Ship Canal and the locks.

When he glanced back at her and
smiled, she said, “My folks took me to the locks when I was a child, to watch the salmon using the fish ladder.”

“A fun thing to do. Have you been online long?”

“Not really. I’m still not sure about some of the people who post messages. My son said they don’t always use pictures of themselves.”

Wade nodded. “I was told the same thing.” He slipped a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and donned them. “But you did. I recognized you right away.”

“My son said I should put up lots of pictures.”

“
He approves of you meeting people that way?”

She chuckled. “Yes and no. He nearly had a conniption the other day because I didn’t do a background check on someone I met online before meeting him in the flesh.”

Wade waved to a boat approaching them. “Did you run a similar check on me?”

Her cheeks heated. Could he tell
she was embarrassed that he’d asked? She probably shouldn’t have mentioned the background check. She wished she could see his eyes again. “No. Maybe I should have, but—”

“I seemed harmless enough?” He
grinned at her from behind those dark glasses. She pulled a pair from her purse, glad she’d thought to bring them.

“Actually,
my son told me to answer your email when it first popped into my inbox. I guess he figured you would be someone I should get to know.” But now Quinn wasn’t giving her the benefit of the doubt that she could take care of herself. Or was he just being a loving son?

“So he approved of your coming on the boat with me?”

She wasn’t about to tell him what Quinn might do. “He may be waiting at the locks to … uh … wave at us. Didn’t you say we were just going to wander around the sound for a couple of hours?” She liked that Wade beamed at her question.

As they approached the l
ocks, Wade concentrated on easing the boat into position. When the lockmaster indicated where they were to tie up, Gillian shoved the fenders into position to prevent the hull of the boat from scraping against the seaweed-covered sides of the locks.

“I’ve never been through the l
ocks on a boat before.”

“I hope you find it interesting. You never know what boats are going to
pass through at the same time. Look there—a fish!” Wade pointed to splash of water just ahead of the bow.

“
A salmon?”

“Probably.
”

As soon as
they were through the locks and in the Sound, Wade unfurled the sails, which billowed out in the freshening breeze. The boat picked up speed and heeled to one side as the sails caught the breeze. Wade cut the throbbing engine. For the next two hours, the little boat paralleled the eastern shoreline of Puget Sound. As they passed what Gillian knew to be Golden Gardens, she waved to people on the beach who were shouting to get their attention.

“This is so much fun! Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s been my pleasure. I’m glad you like it.” Wade motioned for her to sit closer to him as they headed back toward the entrance to the locks and the berth in Lake Union. “You might want to put this on.” He held up her sweater. “Wind’s picked up a bit.”

She smiled and took the sweater from him
then brushed her hair off her cheeks. He hauled down first one sail, and then the other after starting the inboard engine.

“You’re getting to be an experienced first mate,” he said, when, without waiting for directions, she shoved the
fenders over the side as they prepared to tie up to go through the locks.

Gillian’s cheeks warmed.
First mate, indeed.
She felt comfortable with him, pleased that she’d seen no sign of Quinn on their outgoing trip through the Locks or on their return. Maybe Bianca had convinced him not to act so protective. She smiled to herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Wade placed a hand on her shoulder
then pulled her closer on the seat they now shared as they moved slowly through the Fremont Cut and into Lake Union.

“My son. What he said to me the other day.
He can sometimes be a bit much. But I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“
I’m glad he said you should answer my email. Let’s hope he wouldn’t mind if I kissed you.” His lips grazed her cheek.

Her eyes widened
just before he leaned in and his lips met hers. Soft lips, lips that knew how to caress and hint at seduction. She closed her eyes and she saw Matt’s face. The offshore wind ruffled her hair, reminding her where she was and with whom. When he began to deepen the kiss, she stiffened and eased out of Wade’s grasp. His right arm slid away from her.

She couldn’t see his eyes,
still hidden behind his sunglasses.

His tone was cooler when he looked toward the bow.
“I guess I misread you. Thought you were hoping the same thing I was. Aren’t you on that website to met men, find someone?”

“Yes, but—”

“I didn’t expect you to be so frigid,” like the ice in his voice.

“You just surprised me. That’s all.” But she
had to admit she wasn’t ready for a kiss from him. Or was it that she’d thought of Matt when Wade’s lips met hers?

“Maybe if we knew each other better,” she offered by way of an excuse. But did she want to get to know him better? He was a good-looking man
, reminding her of Matt when he moved so confidently around the boat. Neither of the men’s bodies had gone to fat. Wade knew how to handle the boat, and the way he’d kissed her suggested he knew how to kiss, too. The brush of his close-cropped beard against her cheek was softer than she’d expected. But she told herself she wasn’t ready for a romance. And his comment that she was frigid …

Would she ever be ready? Unbidden, Matt’s angular face,
and the concern in his eyes at their last meeting, especially after Nick’s unexpected arrival, flashed through her mind. Maybe she was ready, or wanted to be, but with the wrong man.

She endured t
he rest of the boat ride, punctuated by frequent little silences broken mostly by Wade’s nonspecific comments. After they tied up at the berth, he helped her out of the boat and onto the dock. “Thanks for coming with me. I enjoyed it.” His green eyes slewed away from her for a moment. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I’m not sorry I kissed you. Maybe next time, you won’t be sorry either. Unless, of course, you’re really not interested in going out with me again.”

In spite of her intention not to react to him, Gillian’s face and neck warmed. She pulled
her sweater closer, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her cheeks had flushed at his words. “Perhaps.”

She waved to him and walked quickly down the dock in the direction of her car.
When she arrived home, she pulled out her watercolors, eager to capture how it felt to skim across the waves, the sails billowing above her, highlighted against the deep blue of the summer sky, and how the boat had risen from one level to the next in the Locks.

Drawing
always relaxed her. That’s what she needed. To relax. To stop comparing Wade’s real-life unwanted kiss with a desired one, from Matt … kisses she conjured in her dreams almost nightly.

Chapter 12

The next day, Gillian asked Lauren, “Do you think I’m moving too fast, going out with different men, all in the same week?”

“
Nah. Enjoy it. Makes your life more interesting. What’s wrong with that?” Lauren took a seat and peered at the sketches Gillian had laid out on the top of the counter. “Whose hand is this? Oh, here’s another one. Same hand? What is it about hands that you like to draw them?”

“
Hands can tell a lot about a person. See the scar above the little finger there? That’s Matt’s hand. I drew it while I was waiting for him during one of our meetings.”

“What about this other one?
It isn’t quite as stream-lined as the first one.”

“Wade
’s hand. The man I went sailing with. Homebody. That’s why I placed a sailboat in the background.”

“
Does Quinn approve of him?”

Gillian snorted.
“Not really. He wasn’t happy about my going out on a boat with a stranger.”

“What
’s Wade like?”

“Nice enough.” But she used the opportunity to finish pouring tea in two cups to avoid Lauren
’s gaze.

“What’s that mean?
Show me his picture again.”

Gillian
brought up the site where Homebody’s picture was displayed.

“Hmm.
He
looks
nice enough, what you can see of him. What’s he like in person? Fat? Bald?”

“No. He’s trim and has muscles—what I saw of his arms and legs. I think he sails often. He had a nice tan
and a beard. That picture must have been taken before he grew it.”

“Why do I detect hesitation?”

“He tried to kiss me.” Gillian let out a little whoosh of air. “Actually, no trying about it—he got me on the cheek and the lips. I think he wanted to do more ...”

Lauren chuckled.
“Another man after you. Heavens, Gillian! How many does that make?”

“Too many. I never was all that popular in my younger days. I can’t figure why so many men I’ve met lately seem to … you know … want to do more than just have a cup of coffee or a quick sa
il around the Sound.”

Lauren choked on her tea. She grabbed a napkin to wipe up what had s
prayed out of her mouth. “If it were me, I’d enjoy it.” She reached for a cookie from the plate Gillian had placed on the table. “From your frown, I gather you’d prefer that someone other than this Homebody guy—Wade—would kiss you.”

How does she
know
what I keep thinking?
“Not really.”
Who am I kidding? If it were Matt, I’d probably like it.
His
lips looked like major league kissing material.
She hope his wife enjoyed them; it would be a waste not to.

“Let me guess,” Lauren m
used. “You’re thinking about Mo. From what I’ve seen when he brought you home from a walk, he has nice lips. A mustache that probably tickles, too. She chuckled.”

“I’m not
romantically interested in Mo. He’s a nice walking partner, but there’s no spark when he kisses me. If I was going to get serious about him, I’d want there to be an electrical storm, lightning flashing, a fire … something.”

Lauren laughed. “
Sounds nice. Though I’d say, for lots of women, they’re bonuses, not so much requirements in the romance department.”

“
At this point in my life, a spark, even a small one, is a must. Maybe that’s why I never found anyone after Owen. Not that I really looked all that hard. I had Quinn to focus on.”
Or was I too picky? Maybe just plain afraid?

“H
e’s all raised now. How’s the wedding planning coming?”

“The kids are
doing most of it. I’m taking up the slack with a few minor issues, the wedding invitations, things like that. I was going to talk to Bianca’s mother about how to make things more comfortable with her ex-husband attending, but she hasn’t got back to me.”

“I thought you were going to host the wedding re
hearsal dinner.”

She nodded. “
That, too. Bianca’s having a bit of an argument with her mother about the reception. I’m staying out of it. She’s having a hard enough time getting her mom to agree to let Bianca’s dad walk her down the aisle. It sounds like their divorce was the fight-of-the-century.”

“Not like you and Owen.”

“No. I just wanted out and he had other things”—
other women, other vices—
“on his mind.”

The phone rang and Gillian reached for it. “Oh, hi, Bianca.”

She waved as Lauren headed for the back door, mouthing
‘See you later.’

“What? Bianca, w
hy are you crying? Take a deep breath. I can hardly understand you.”

Bianca finally gasped out. “Mo
ther refuses to let Dad walk me down the aisle. She’s changed her mind three times. And now she knows Dad’s bringing his new wife—” A strangled sob cut off her words.

Oh!

“I think Dad called Mother and that’s when everything blew up. Quinn says we should just elope.” Bianca’s sobs halted whatever else she might have said.

“Why don’t you
and Quinn come over for dinner? We can talk about your options.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Bianca hiccupped. “Quinn is so lucky to have you f
or a mother.”

“
Come on over right now. Unless you’re still at work.”

“I came home at noon to finish up with the wedding plans.” Another paroxysm of weeping followed.

What had happened to her way-too-independent, assertive lawyer daughter-in-law? The woman was nothing but a bucket of tears. Gillian couldn’t remember if she’d been similarly emotional before her wedding to Quinn’s father. She hung up and set the table for three, glad she’d planned a simple dinner of soup with salad and hot rolls.

A
n hour later, Bianca and Quinn arrived, she red-eyed and weepy, he looking stern and helpless by turns. His expression told Gillian he hoped she could
do
something,
anything
to make Bianca feel better.

“Say something, Mom,” Quinn muttered for the second time after they’d sat down to eat dinner. He filled the soup bowls before sitting down next to Bianca and clutching her left hand.

“Have you thought of giving your mother an ultimatum?” Gillian asked Bianca.

“What do you mean?”

“
Point number one. It’s
your
wedding. It sounds to me like your mother is trying to run the show. I was surprised about that, since you and Quinn were so intent to planning it all yourself. Did you say she wasn’t all that interested in helping? Like with the catering?”

Quinn nodded. Bianca took a sip of soup, reached for a roll, and buttered it. “I’m not quite sure how that happened—her taking over.”

“Mothers of the bride sometimes seem to think it’s their job to do that, I suspect.” Gillian motioned for Quinn to bring the teapot to the table. “Did you tell her you wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle?”

Bianca nodded.

“And he agreed?”

“Yes.” She reached for her tea
cup and grasped it with both hands. “But this was the first I heard that he was bringing Sara.”

“I
suspect that’s the reason your mother had a change of heart.” Gillian shook her head. “Will your dad leave Sara at home if you ask him?”

Bianca dissolved into tears again. “I don’t know.”

“We should call him, honey,” Quinn offered.

“You mentioned eloping. Is that what you really want?” Gillian asked.

“If we have to. All this craziness is driving me … nuts.” Quinn raked a hand through his hair. “What’s the big deal about a wedding, anyway? We’ve been living together for two years. Everybody
knows
that.”

Gillian straightened in her chair. “It’s not just for the couple. The wedding
lets all your friends celebrate with you. Besides, the wedding’s not about you.” She tipped her head in Bianca’s direction.

“I get that, but couldn’t
our friends just show up for the reception and call it good?”

What a c
lueless groom.
Gillian struggled not to roll her eyes.

“Of course, but I think Bianca’s parents would like to be there. After all, she’s their only daughter. Right, dear?” She reached across the table and
patted Bianca’s hand.

Her head bobbed
. “Maybe Quinn’s right. We should elope. It would be easier—except my mother would never forgive me.” She looked at Gillian, bleary-eyed. “You could be there, too, if you want.” She mopped her eyes again.

“Let’s call your dad before you go to that extreme. If he understands it’s important for him to be here with you, an
d Sara is the problem, maybe he’ll agree to come without her—so her presence doesn’t set off your mother.”

Bianca nodded. “If I had
to choose, I’d rather have Dad here than Mother. She’s the one who’s been such a pill about all this, always insisting on getting her way.”

There was
a hint of that bright attorney brain again. If only Bianca would stand up to her mother.

Quinn passed the salad bowl after refilling his plate. “We’ll call your dad. He’ll be reasonable, I’m sure.
I’ll talk to him.”

“No, I’ll
do it. He’ll listen to me … better than you.” Bianca sniffed and gulped down some tea. “He doesn’t even know you yet.”

Let’s hope
that works.
Gillian turned the rest of the dinner conversation to less emotion-fraught issues, like the cases Bianca was working on, and how well Quinn was doing at the hotel he was now managing.

The strain in Nurse Patsy’s normally calm voice suggested a major change in Marnie’s condition. “Mr. Gordon. Could you please come upstairs?”

Mat
t took the stairs two at a time. He’d been worried about Marnie all week, ever since her cold had worsened. But maybe this was more than a cold. Another stroke?

“I
just called Doctor Vander Leaven,” Patsy announced.

“She’s that bad?” Matt shoved a chair next to the bed and reached for
Marnie’s hand. Blue veins stood out against her wrinkled skin, weins that seemed too thin.

Marnie
appeared to be asleep, but the occasional harsh catches in her breathing frightened him. He was about to ask Patsy another question when the doorbell downstairs sounded and Matt heard a man’s voice. Ursula must have let the doctor in. Heavy clumps sounded on the stairs, a steady beat more prominent with each step, a beat that threatened to overwhelm the thumping of Matt’s heart. He stepped away from the bed to make room for the doctor.

“Why don’t you go downstairs
, Matt? I’ll talk with you after I see what’s going on.” The man’s gentle voice seemed to belie the sadness Matt detected in the doctor’s eyes.

He nodded and descended the stairs. When Ursula asked if he wanted to take a call from
TJ, Matt shook his head.

“Tell him I’ll call him back. Tomorrow.”
Matt swiveled his chair and peered out the window into the back garden. On any other day, the sunlight heightening the colors of the clematis vines that climbed the fence would have been a view that relaxed him, calmed him. Not today. That vine had been planted shortly after he and Marnie moved into the house.

The boys had been young then,
Carl only four, Wes just turned six. He’d Skype them if the news was bad, even if it wasn’t the usual time he tried to touch base with them. He laced and unlaced his fingers, forcing himself to remain calm.

Ursula
knocked once and opened his office door. “Heather’s on the phone. Would you like to speak with her, or should I have her call you later, maybe this evening?”

“I
’ll take it.” He needed to hear his niece’s voice, always so cheery, upbeat. She loved Marnie, too. She deserved to know what was happening. “Heather. Glad you called.”

“I was wondering if you could come over for dinner later this week,
maybe go on a bike ride with me, unless you’re too busy. How is Aunt Marnie?”

“Not good. The doctor’s with her
right now. I’m waiting for news.” He looked up. The doctor was standing in the doorway. “Can I call you back, hon? After I talk to the doctor?”

“Sure.”

“What’s the verdict?” he asked, and motioned for Vance to sit down.

“
It looks like Marnie may have suffered another stroke. Her blood pressure is too high and she’s having trouble breathing. I’ve called for an ambulance.”

Matt felt his own heart begin to thud
again. “This has to be the third time.”

“Or more. It’s hard to determine if she’s sustained mini-strokes since the last episode, although your nurse is
very observant. Patsy’s notes are always complete, detailed.”