Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (12 page)

Janice lifted a brow. “You look a little stressed out, cousin. Is running a video arcade not all it's cracked up to be?”

“It's a bit of a challenge,” Waverly admitted. “But Sicily here has been giving me some good advice.” Waverly glanced at the man next to Janice now. “In fact, I've been offering her a job.”

“A job?” He looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“This is Waverly, Dad.” Sicily tugged him closer. “And this is my dad, Blake Erickson,” she told Waverly. “Waverly said she'd pay me in game tokens if I helped her paint a wall.”

“Paint a wall?” He frowned. “What?”

“A mural,” Sicily explained. “With characters from the video games. Waverly wants me to help her.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” he said cautiously.

“Why not?” Sicily demanded. “There's nothing else to do in this boring place.”

“There's a lot to do,” he countered.

“I'm sorry,” Waverly said quickly. “It was probably out of line for me to offer your daughter a job without first consulting you.” She smiled at Sicily. “You and your dad should discuss this privately. You can get back to me later on it.”

“Okay.” But Sicily's eyes were sad now.

“If you'll excuse me,” Waverly stepped away, “I need to take care of some things.” Thankfully, Rosie was back. Waverly went over to her, acting as if she had some important business to handle. But she simply told Rosie that Zach, who'd agreed to do some work at the arcade, would be coming by this afternoon to speak to her. “I'll be upstairs.”

“Okay.” Rosie nodded.

“I'm still trying to get the apartment set up,” she explained unnecessarily. “It'll be a miracle if I can fit the furnishings in.”

Then, without looking back, Waverly hurried up the stairs to her apartment. The moving van had delivered her things yesterday and, it was true, she was still trying to get the place arranged. But it wasn't as if it was urgent. Still, she felt relieved to escape her cousin and Sicily's father. Although she was curious as to their relationship, she decided she really didn't want to know.

She went into the tiny bathroom and stared at her image in the mirror. Janice had been right: Waverly did look stressed out. Frazzled, frowsy, and frumpy. She ran her fingers through her tangled auburn curls. The sea air had made her hair much wilder than usual. She even had a streak of dirt across one cheek, probably from when she'd been cleaning behind a row of machines this morning. It figured that Rosie had never mentioned it. Dirt didn't appear to bother that girl much.

Waverly ran the cold water, splashing it on her face, which felt strangely hot and flushed. She washed off the dirty streak, dried her face, then looked again. A slight improvement, but unremarkable.

“Hello?” called a female voice in her apartment. “Waverly?”

She knew it was Janice but felt surprised she'd walked right in. “Coming,” she called as she tossed the hand towel next to the sink.

“Sorry to intrude like this,” Janice said. “But I told Sicily you wouldn't mind if I showed her your place.”

“Is it okay?” Sicily asked carefully.

“Why not.” Waverly made a stiff smile. “I'm still getting settled in but feel free to look around.” She was relieved that Sicily's father hadn't come up with them.

“This is cool up here,” Sicily said as she walked around the studio. “I can't believe you get to live above the arcade. You could go down and play games in the middle of the night if you wanted to.”

Waverly couldn't help but laugh. “I guess so.”

“Cool.”

“Blake asked me to say sorry to you,” Janice told Waverly. “He knows he overreacted.”

“Dad's like that,” Sicily explained. “He doesn't like video games very much.”

“Oh.” Waverly nodded.

“Anyway,” Janice began, “I just called Mom and asked her why we haven't had you to dinner yet. She told me you'd been invited numerous times but had declined.” She folded her arms across her front. “Don't you like us?”

Waverly smiled. “Of course I like you. But I've been busy, and I don't have a car and—”

“We can pick you up,” Sicily offered.

Waverly laughed. “So do you drive, Sicily?”

Sicily smiled. “No, but Dad does. And Janice does too.”

“We refuse to take no for an answer,” Janice informed her. “Dinner tonight at seven.”

“Only if Rosie doesn't mind working late.”

“Close the place early,” Janice said.

“On a Saturday night?” Waverly asked.

“Our mothers are the owners,” Janice reminded her. “You can make your own hours if you like.”

Even so, Waverly was unsure.

“Come on, Sicily.” Janice put her hands on the girl's shoulders, guiding her toward the door. “We'll let Cousin Waverly get back to whatever it is she's doing. And I'm sure your father is tired of waiting for us.”

“Do you still want me to help you?” Sicily asked Waverly with hopeful eyes.

“Of course. That is if it's all right.”

“Good.”

“In fact, if your dad doesn't mind, maybe you could start putting some ideas to paper. Make some sketches,” Waverly suggested.

“Yeah. Good idea!” Sicily nodded eagerly. “I'll try to talk Dad into letting me help you,” she said as she exited.

“And I'll tell our mothers to expect you at seven o'clock sharp,” Janice called as she closed the door.

Waverly shook her head. Unless Rosie agreed to stay late tonight, which seemed unlikely, since Waverly had overheard Rosie telling her boyfriend to meet her here at six, and unless someone picked Waverly up, since she did not intend to walk, their mothers might be a little disappointed.

Waverly went over to the wide span of windows and looked out. Even in a few short days she had become addicted to this view. So peaceful and calming…and such a contrast to the chaos of the video arcade downstairs. It was here that she found serenity, here that she quietly conversed with God, and here that she found the strength to continue through another day.

“I don't see what the big deal is,” Sicily complained from the backseat as Blake drove them home from town.

“I don't either,” Janice said. Then, lowering her voice, she turned to Blake. “You know, it's like free babysitting.”

“I heard that,” Sicily shot back at her, “and thank you very much, but I don't need a babysitter!”

“Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that,” Janice said evenly. “But your father thinks you do.”

“She's only nine,” Blake reminded Janice. “You do not leave a nine-year-old unattended.”

“Mom does,” Sicily declared stubbornly.

“Really?” Blake glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah. Sometimes she might
think
Alex or Vic are watching me, but usually they're not paying any attention to what I do. They treat me like I'm grown up. Well, sometimes anyway. Unless they're treating me like a baby.”

“Yes, I know your mother leaves you with the older girls, but she doesn't leave you
home alone,
now does she, Sicily?”

“Sometimes she does.”

Blake didn't know how to respond to that, but he intended to question Gia about it. Sicily might act like a teenager, but she was still just a little girl. And he wished everyone would start treating her like one again. As he turned toward his house, he wondered again about this Waverly person. She might be Vivian's daughter, and that was worth something since he truly did like Vivian, but why on earth would a normal adult pull up her roots and take on a job managing a video arcade? It made no sense.

“Oh, sorry,” he said to Janice as he pulled up in front of his own house, “I totally forgot to drop you off at your mom's.”

“That's all right.” She laughed as she got out. “After all, I'm the one who bummed a ride from you today. And just think of the gas we save by doing that.” She reached for her reusable shopping bag, smiling prettily at him. “Anyway, thanks for giving me a lift, Blake.”

“No problem.” He went around to the back of his car and opened his trunk.

“Looks like someone's going to have fun,” Janice said sarcastically as he removed the large box from his trunk. “You know there are people you can hire to do those sorts of things for you.”

He set the motorized grass-trimming tool down, kneeling to study the simple instructions on the outside of the box. They made it look easy enough. Still, this would be a first for him. “I plan to test this thing out on the path between our houses this afternoon.”

“Then you and Sicily can use your new path when you come over for dinner tonight.”

“Huh?” He looked up.

“Of course you're invited, Blake. We're having a dinner party after all. Naturally, we invite the neighbors.”

“Waverly is going to be there too?” Sicily called out from where she was sitting on the porch. She sounded too interested, as if she ssumed this video-arcade woman was suddenly her new best friend. That bothered Blake more than he cared to admit.

“I think she'll come,” Janice told Sicily.

“Can we go, Dad?” his daughter begged him. “I really need to talk to Waverly about doing that mural with her.”

He shrugged. “It appears I'm clearly outnumbered by the females in this particular neck of the woods.”

Janice gave him a sly look. “Might as well give in to us then.”

“Okay.” He nodded at Sicily. “We'll go.” Then he turned to Janice. “See you at seven.”

With the kind of grin he hadn't seen in months, Sicily disappeared into the house. Blake pulled the safety goggles out of the plastic bag. The salesmen at the hardware store had convinced Blake the goggles were a necessity, telling him a story about a man who'd lost an eye thanks to a flying twig. So Blake put on the goggles and then, following the directions, plugged in the electric extension cord and fired up the new grass cutter. It was a noisy beast but effective.

Moving it back and forth through the beach grass, he created about a three-foot-wide swath, which eventually turned into a nice path between the houses. He finally reached his neighbors' property and shut down the noisy tool. Removing his splattered safety goggles, he turned to survey his work.

“I heard you met my daughter,” Vivian called out as she slowly walked over to him.

He smiled at her. “That's right. I did.”

“Nice little path you made for us.” She nodded toward his work. “That must mean we're still friends.”

“Of course we're still friends,” he assured her. “Why wouldn't we be?”

“Well, I heard that you and Waverly locked horns today.”

“Locked horns?” He was confused. “Not exactly.”

“Janice said Waverly got in trouble for offering Sicily a job at the arcade.”

“I wasn't too pleased about that, but I'm sure Waverly's intentions were good.” Of course, even as he said this, he wasn't
that
sure. What sort of adult goes around offering juveniles jobs in video arcades anyway?

“She must've meant well.” Vivian sighed. “But my daughter is sometimes impulsive. Rather she used to be. I think the past few years she's been stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“In a job she didn't enjoy, in a city she didn't like. But she was afraid to make a change…afraid to make a move.”

“That must've been hard.” He wondered what kind of a job could be worse than the one she had now.

“That's one of the reasons I wanted her to come out here.” Vivian plucked a piece of grass of his sleeve. “A fresh start.”

“Seems like a few of us are looking for that.”

“So you and Sicily are joining us for dinner then?”

“That's what I hear.”

Vivian nodded. “Good. Now I better go and try to make myself useful to my sister.” She leaned forward and said, with a conspiratorial tone, “Between Janice and me, poor Lou seems to be stuck with most of the cooking these days.”

“If there's anything I can bring,” he said, “give me a call.” Then he turned and headed back to his house. As he walked, he wondered at the strangeness of this new life. Here he was, a bachelor, unexpectedly surrounded by nothing but females. Five to one was a bit staggering. And unless he liked being outnumbered like this, he should consider making a point to meet some of the other single guys in Martha's Vineyard, especially when fall came along and he needed someone to watch football with.

Blake put the grass-cutter tool in the garage, then went in the house to get something cool to drink. He was surprised to see that Sicily, instead of playing video games, was actually sitting at the kitchen room table—
drawing.
Without saying a word, because he was worried he'd break this wonderful spell, he glanced over to see that she'd helped herself to some paper from his printer, as well as a pen and pencil, and she was completely absorbed with her drawing. He pulled a soda from the fridge, popped it open, and marveled to think that perhaps they had finally turned a corner.