Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (16 page)

Blake let out a snort of laughter.

She stuck out her lower lip like he'd offended her. “That's what Alex said, Daddy.
Wrist candy.”

He nodded sagely. “Oh, I believe you, sweetie. I really do.”

She looked skeptical.

“Good night, darling.” He ran his hand over her silky hair, wondering how long it would take that purple streak to fade away. “Lights off by ten-thirty, okay?”

“Oh, Dad.” She scowled at him.

“Hey, don't forget you're a working woman now,” he reminded her. “You need to get your rest.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said eagerly. “Ten-thirty…lights off.”

He kissed the top of her head, then left her room and wandered aimlessly through his house. Curious as to why he felt so restless, he realized he no longer had the patience to read the biography he'd picked up. And he had no interest in going online to check the latest news. Eventually he turned off the lights and went into his bedroom, where he stood for a long moment. He was still pondering what Sicily had said, implying that he might simply be Janice's wrist candy, of all things! At first it had sounded outrageous, but the more he considered it, the more he wondered. Worse than that, he wasn't positive that he wasn't guilty of the same motivations.

On Sunday morning Waverly decided it was time to treat herself to a day off. After all, she'd accomplished a fair amount in only a few days. With all the cleaning she'd done and with her own furnishings in place, the studio apartment now resembled a rather pleasant place to live. Even the arcade had improved its image after her thorough cleaning. Zach was coming tomorrow to start on the basecoat of paint for their mural wall, as well as to rearrange some of the video games.

There was no denying that managing a video-game parlor had never been her dream job, but she was determined to make the best of it. And now it was time for some R & R. So, with a promise to relieve Rosie for her lunch break at 12:30, Waverly walked on over to Waterside Market to get some breakfast. There she dined on a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel as well as a latte as she perused the local paper until she found an ad for a bike rental shop located in Tisbury. By now she knew that Tisbury was merely another name for Vineyard Haven. According to the address, this bike shop was right down the street. It was selling some of its older models for what sounded like fairly reasonable prices.

By ten o'clock she had not only purchased a retro-style bicycle in a pleasant shade of sky blue, but a helmet and several other biking accessories as well. She'd spent more than she'd planned, but compared to the expenses of running a car, she had gotten off cheaply. And, considering the summer traffic, which often moved at the pace of a weary slug, she felt certain biking was highly preferable. First she rode around Vineyard Haven, but feeling she was up for more of a challenge, she decided to head over to East Chop.

She didn't know why the pointed peninsulas were called West and East Chop, but on the map they did resemble pork chops. Not that she was going public with that theory. West Chop was where Vineyard Haven was located. And East Chop contained Oak Bluffs. She'd heard Oak Bluffs was even more touristy than Vineyard Haven, but that was hard to imagine…until she got there. Streets were clogged with cars, bikes, and pedestrians. Finally she found herself touring some of the side streets, where each house was a like a charmingly unique work of art.

So far most of the homes she'd seen had been similar with their gray Cape Cod-style shingles and white trim. But these houses were painted all the colors of the rainbow and tricked out with gingerbread, lattice, and other similar decorative touches. It was like a carnival of houses, and she couldn't get enough of them. She knew she'd have to come back with her camera next time. But for now, it was time to go and relieve Rosie for her lunch break.

She pedaled back across the bridge and into Tisbury, navigating through the traffic, hurrying to make it to The Gallery before one. She was walking her bike up to the arcade when she saw Sicily sitting on the edge of the flower planter outside. Her face looked close to tears.

“What's wrong?” Waverly asked her.

“You weren't here.” Sicily stood up, folding her arms across her front with a grim expression.

“I was taking the day off,” Waverly explained as she locked her bike into the bike rack.

“But I thought I was going to work for you today.”

Waverly bit her lip. “But I never said that, Sicily.”

“But my dad said it was okay to work for you.” Sicily held up some rolls of paper. “And I made more drawings.”

Waverly thought over her response. It was clear that Sicily's feelings were hurt. “I'm sorry if I gave you the impression you were going to start today,” she said carefully. “I really didn't mean to.” She opened the door. “Why don't you come inside, and we'll discuss what your hours will be.”

“Okay.”

“There you are,” Rosie said in a slightly grumpy tone. “I thought you'd never get back.”

Waverly glanced at the clock to see she was seven minutes late. “Sorry about that,” she told Rosie. Seven minutes, and Rosie was throwing a hissy fit?

“See you later.” Rosie grabbed her purse from beneath the counter and marched off.

“Guess I'm on everyone's bad list today,” she told Sicily. “Hey, do you want to do some work right now?”

“Do what?”

Waverly had been about to ask Sicily to mind the counter for her while she ran upstairs but thought better of leaving a child in charge of kids who were older and bigger than her. “Could you run up to my apartment and get me a bottle of water from the fridge?”

Sicily nodded. “Yeah.”

So Waverly gave her the key. “And help yourself to a soda or juice if you like. Then we can make a plan for next week.”

Sicily smiled now. “
Okay!”

Before long, Sicily was back with water for Waverly and a soda for herself. The two sat down and looked over Sicily's sketches. Then Waverly got out some more paper, and they began to lay out the way the characters could go on the wall. Finally Waverly pulled out the calendar, and they looked at the upcoming week, deciding that mornings would be best, agreeing on two to three hours a day, depending on what Sicily's dad said.

“If something comes up and you need to miss a day or two,” Waverly finally said, “I'll understand.” She handed Sicily her weekly schedule. “And we'll figure out the following week on next Friday. It'll be trickier because of the Fourth of July.”

“I wish we could start on the mural today,” Sicily said sadly.

“We kind of started.” Waverly pointed to their big blueprint sketch. “At least we'll be ready to go tomorrow. I'll see that Zach paints the mural wall first thing in the morning, so it'll be dry enough for us to work on by ten.”

“But what am I going to do today?” Sicily asked glumly. “Dad and Janice won't be back to get me until three-thirty or four.”

Waverly couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped. “You're kidding?”

“That's what they said when they dropped me off. That's how long they needed to go to the beach.”

Waverly was seriously aggravated. Why had Blake gone and done that? He knew that Waverly hadn't made any firm arrangement on having Sicily here today. What made him assume it was acceptable to dump his daughter here? Who did he think she was, anyway—the free babysitter?

“I guess I can hang out and play video games until then.” Sicily stared at her backpack. “But I only have a few dollars. That won't last long.”

“Do you want to call your dad and ask him to come get you?” Waverly pointed to the phone by the cash register.

Sicily pulled a cell phone with pink rhinestones from a pocket of her backpack. “I have my own, thanks.”

“Right.” Nine-year-olds with cell phones, being dropped off at video arcades, wearing purple hair, and carrying backpacks with skulls on them. Yes, it was a brave new world.

“But Dad can't get me for a while. He and Janice were going to Menemsha, and that's clear on the other side of the island.” She looked longingly at the sketches. “I wish we could just work today.”

So Waverly explained how Zach wouldn't even get the basecoat of paint on until tomorrow, and how she'd planned to take the rest of the day off. “I even bought a bicycle this morning. It's pretty much the first time I've gone around and seen things.” Now she wondered about calling her mother, asking her to come pick up Sicily.

“I wish
I
had a bike,” Sicily said wistfully.

So Waverly told her about the sale at the rental shop. Then she got an idea. “Maybe I could pay you in advance by getting you a bike,” she suggested. “They had kids' bikes there too.”

Sicily's eyes lit up. “And then we could ride around together.”

“But would your dad be agreeable to that?”

“He said he was going to get me a bike anyway.”

“Yes, but he might not like me stepping in like this.”

“I don't see why he should care.” Sicily scowled. “He's so busy with dumb old Janice.” The next instant she looked worried. “Sorry. I forgot she's your cousin.”

Waverly just laughed. “That's all right.”

“So can we do it?” Sicily jumped from foot to foot. “Get a bike? Can we?”

“I'd feel better if you got permission first, Sicily.”

“I can call Dad.” She held up her phone again.

Just then Waverly spotted a couple of boys who looked like they were about to get in a scuffle over a particular machine. “Go ahead and call him,” she told Sicily.

Then she hurried over to play referee, pointing up to the poster of rules that she'd repainted yesterday. “See rule number three,” she told them. “No fighting. If you fight, you'll be forced to leave.”

“He started it,” the shaggy-haired boy said.

“He asked for it,” the slightly larger boy claimed.

And now they were arguing again.

“I don't care who's to blame,” she said firmly. “If you guys want to fight, you can take it outside, and I'll call the police to come deal with you.”

“Really?” The shaggy-haired boy appeared slightly alarmed. “You'd call the cops on us just for fighting?”

“Really. And I'll bet they wouldn't like it any more than I do.”

“My parents wouldn't like it either,” the taller boy admitted.

Now she smiled at both of them. “But I'd rather not involve the police.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of tokens. “And if you guys promise not to fight, and if you'll shake hands and forgive each other—and mean it—I'll give you each a free game.”

Well, that seemed to settle it. Too bad world peace wasn't so simple.

“I'm back,” Rosie announced as she entered the arcade. “And I'm seven minutes late too.” Payback flickered in her gaze.

“That's fine,” Waverly told her, ignoring the slam. Then she turned to Sicily. “Did you call your dad?”

Sicily nodded as she looped the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “Let's go. This is going to be fun.”

Soon they were on their way. Waverly wheeled her bike alongside her, as they walked to the bike rental shop. Sicily was getting enthused about the prospects of riding around the island together. Waverly hoped they had some kids' bikes left. If not, maybe they could rent one.

To her relief, there were still a couple of kids' bikes. But the only girl's bike was hot pink, and Sicily looked disappointed.

“You don't like hot pink?” Waverly asked her.

“I do like hot pink,” Sicily assured her. “I just wanted to get a blue one like yours.”

Waverly laughed. “Well, this way we won't get them confused. Besides, I think you look good on a pink bike, Sicily. Goes nicely with your hair.”

“Really?” She smiled.

“We'll take it,” Waverly told the salesman.

“And I assume you'll want a helmet for your daughter.”

Sicily giggled. “She's not my mom. She's my boss.”

“Oh. Right.” His eyes were curious.

Before long, they were both helmeted up and on their bikes. Since Waverly felt a little concerned for Sicily's safety in this traffic, she suggested they stick to the less busy streets in Vineyard Haven. Thankfully, Sicily agreed. First they rode over to the town hall and then on up to the library, where Waverly got a library card and Sicily put an application for one in her backpack.

“Are you hungry?” Waverly asked as they were leaving. “I just realized that I am, and I have an idea.”

Sicily nodded eagerly. “What is it?”

“Let's head back to The Gallery, and we'll go up to my apartment and fix a picnic lunch to take to the beach. Sound good?”

Sicily grinned. “Sounds great.”

Together they made some interesting sandwiches and picked out some fruit and drinks, which Waverly wrapped up in a big beach towel. On their way to their bikes, Waverly asked Rosie to watch for Sicily's dad. “Have him call one of our cell phones,” she said as they went out. “And we'll ride back here ASAP.”