Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (18 page)

“Waverly?” Vivian looked confused.

“You know,” Sicily said, “your daughter.”

Vivian smiled. “Yes, I know Waverly's my daughter, but I guess I'm a little baffled as to why she would be here.”

“Janice said that Waverly would—”

“Oh, there you both are,” Janice exclaimed when she saw Blake and Sicily. “And right on time too.”

“What did Janice say to you?” Vivian asked Sicily.

“She said Waverly might be here tonight. Didn't she come?”

“Oh, dear.” Janice looked caught off guard. “I totally forgot about her.”

Sicily made a disappointed face.

“But you can still call her,” Janice told Sicily. “Knowing Waverly, she'll just be sitting at home doing nothing tonight anyway.”

“We'll call her right now,” Vivian told Sicily. “If need be, I'll drive into town and pick her up myself.”

“You will?” Sicily looked relieved.

“I most certainly will.” Vivian cast a glance at Janice. Blake wasn't totally sure as to the meaning, but the word
disapproval
stuck in his head.

“Come on,” Janice said lightly to him. “Let's go.”

“Yes, yes,” Vivian told them. “Be on your way.”

“Give my best to Louise,” he told her.

“Certainly.” Vivian nodded crisply.

With Janice gently tugging his elbow, they made their way out to her little car, which still had the top down. She ran her fingers through her short cropped hair, which never seemed to move. “I guess we can leave the top down,” she said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “You don't mind driving, do you?”

“Not at all.” He glanced at her as he got into the driver's seat. She looked cool and in control in her pale blue linen dress. It was quite similar to the white one she'd worn the other night. He vaguely wondered if she'd gotten some sort of bulk price on them.

“So?” She put on a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Do I look okay?”

He nodded. “You look impeccable, Janice. As always.”

She smiled in appreciation. “Thank you. And we go well together too, don't you think?”

He nodded again, automatically. But as he did so, he was thinking about wrist candy. What if his nine-year-old daughter was right? What if Blake truly was Janice Grant's wrist candy? It hurt his head to even think about it.

“The dinner party is in town,” she told him. “A reception really. At the old Mansion House Hotel. Do you know where that is?”

“Right in the middle of town?”

“Precisely. In fact, if you can't find a parking spot, I'll bet it would be all right to park behind The Gallery. There's a parking place back there, and Waverly doesn't even have a car yet.”

“Right.” He wondered why Waverly's name always seemed to come up. Or why, when it did come up, it grabbed his attention. It was as if his radar went up, or his heart skipped a beat, or something equally uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because of the influence Waverly had over his daughter. Not for the first time, he wondered if the Irish Fairy Queen really had done a spell on his daughter. Hopefully no ill would come from having her visit at her mother's tonight.

As he pulled into the tiny lot behind The Gallery, he assured himself that he could trust Vivian and Louise to keep Waverly from doing anything overly harmful or dangerous with his daughter. Hopefully Waverly didn't like to do things like swimming by the light of the moon in the Sound. Or playing with fire. Perhaps he should've laid down the law for his daughter. Maybe it wasn't too late.

“Here we are, with time to spare,” Janice said as he removed her keys from the ignition and handed them to her.

“Time to spare?” He grimaced. “You were so worked up about being late.”

“I hate to be late,” she said as she remained in the seat. “I always worry that people will either be talking about me…or that they won't.” She laughed and opened the door. “Actually, we're just in time to get drinks before the real party begins.”

Blake wanted to point out that he didn't need or want a drink but knew that comment would go right past her. So as she ordered a dirty martini, he decided to have a Coke.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the waitress told her. “No alcohol is served in Tisbury.”

“Where?” Janice scowled.

“Tisbury. Or Martha's Vineyard. It's a dry town,” the waitress explained.

“How about wine?”

“It's a
dry
town,” the waitress said again.

Blake concealed his amusement. “Well, I'll have a Coke.”

“That we can do.” The waitress grinned.

“Same here,” Janice said dismally.

“So where's the big dinner party?” Blake asked as he sipped his Coke.

“In here, somewhere.” Janice looked glum, like this wasn't exactly the sort of evening she'd been hoping for. Blake was inclined to agree, though he did like the idea of meeting James Taylor…unless that was merely a guise to get him to come here tonight. Just in case, he kept his eyes peeled every time someone entered the restaurant. And positioned as he was, it wasn't hard to keep a close watch on the door.

“Do you see someone famous?” Janice asked curiously a few minutes later.

“Uh, not exactly.” But he knew his eyes had given him away.

“Who?” She turned to look as well. “Oh, it's just my cousin.” She made a halfhearted sort of wave.

“With a guy.” Blake did a quick study of the man accompanying Waverly. A nice enough looking fellow, though somewhat short and ordinary, maybe even boring, judging by his blasé expression. “Do you know who that is?”

“Who?” Janice turned to look again. This time Waverly appeared to notice them, making a small polite wave in their direction. “I have no idea,” Janice whispered to Blake. “Don't look now, but they seem to be coming our way.”

“It's not like they have a choice,” Blake said wryly as he watched the hostess leading them across the room. “Unless they want to appear rude and walk right past us.”

As they came closer, he noticed how amazing Waverly looked in a turquoise-blue dress that reminded him of the ocean in the morning and fit her shape like a well-tailored glove. Her only adornment was a simple pearl necklace, which elegantly complemented her peaches-and-cream complexion. He mentally slapped himself as he forced a smile for the couple, who was nearly at their table now.

“Hello.” Waverly smiled politely as she and her mystery man paused on their way to a table. “What a surprise to see you two here tonight.” The twinkle in her aqua-blue eyes suggested curiosity. Blake knew she was wondering about Janice's “big dinner event” that had seemed so all-important and pressing this afternoon. Suddenly Blake wondered about it too. Why had Janice made such a fuss? As far as he could see, no big wingding was going on here. Had he simply been duped?

“So good to see you, Cuz.” Janice beamed at both of them. “And who is this?”

With a courteous smile, Waverly introduced them to her new friend Reggie Martin. “He owns The Skye,” she explained.

“The whole sky?” Janice laughed. “Must be expensive.”

Reggie chuckled. “You do sound related to Waverly.”

Then Waverly explained what Blake already knew: that The Skye was an art gallery down the street. “I just had the grand tour, and it's truly a delightful collection. Some impressive artists. You might enjoy it too, Janice.”

“If I have time.” Janice examined her diamond-encrusted watch with too much interest. “Speaking of time, I wonder where that dinner is supposed to be.”

“You're not talking about the fund-raiser tonight?” Reggie asked. “With the Millers hosting?”

“Yes.” Janice nodded eagerly. “That's the event. I thought it would be started by now.”

“We're going to a fund-raiser?” A wave of disappointment washed over Blake. Dinner with strangers was bad enough, but a fund-raiser was far worse.

“As I recall, it's being held in the hotel's library this year,” Reggie explained. “The invitation said appetizers and drinks.” He grinned. “We all know what that means. And, of course, there's the silent auction. I already placed some bids on a couple of things earlier today. They started the early bird bidding at five.” He cocked his head toward Blake. “Easier that way, if you know what I mean.”

Blake tried not to look as dismayed as he felt. “Yes. I do know.”

“Well, you two have a fun evening,” Reggie said lightly.

Blake nodded like he planned to do that. But
fun
was not exactly the word he would've used just now. Once they got into the hotel library, where too many people were crammed into too small of a space, he longed for an excuse—any excuse—to escape.

The appetizers were lukewarm and picked over, and the “drinks” were mock-tails of sweet-tasting sodas and fruit punch, decorated with paper umbrellas. Worst of all was the expectation that if you were there, you were expected to bid on things. By now the bidding had gotten unreasonably high. Even so, he pretended to browse the items and even considered bidding on an ATV, except that the price had gone far above the actual value of the donated item. Finally he began to wonder how believable he'd be at feigning a heart attack. He stepped out of the way of a very large woman and closer to an auction item that was garnering a lot of attention.

“Oh, I get it,” he said to Janice as he read the description over someone's shoulder. “There's your James Taylor now.”

“Where? Where?” Janice's head jerked anxiously from right and left. “I don't see him.
Where?”

Blake pointed to the page of bids with James Taylor's photo pasted on the top. “Sweet Baby James is auction item number 76. And the bid is up to $5,900 already. Listen here, Janice: the winner gets James Taylor to sing them a song of their choice while he makes them a grilled cheese sandwich.” He shook his head. “Wow, that's one spendy little lunch.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “It's for a good cause.”

“And that would be?”

She looked flustered now, and he knew she was as oblivious as he. “You could at least
act
like you're interested,” she hissed at him.

He stared blankly at her. “Why?”

“Because we're
here.”
She adopted a plastic-looking smile, like she thought she was a celebrity. “And someday these people might be voting for me.”

Blake pressed his lips together and nodded.
Wrist candy,
he was thinking,
definitely wrist candy.
But after tonight, he was done with this charade. He would explain it gently and politely to Janice, but he was done. Perhaps he'd waited too long to end it already.

As she and Reggie were handed menus, Waverly wondered if this island might be too small for both her and her cousin. But, seriously, what were the odds of running into Janice like that tonight? And why had it bothered Waverly so much to see Blake just now? She was well aware that he and Janice were an item. Perhaps she was still irked because he'd been so rude to her earlier. That little scene at the beach had been a bit over the top. Of course, it had been thanks to Blake's bad manners that she'd met Reggie today. And that seemed to be a good thing.

She smiled at Reggie as he continued to study the menu. Really, he was a perfect date. Thoughtful, polite, good conversationalist. Plus he looked like a good match for her. Already she knew they had similar interests in art, music, and even food, she realized, when they both ordered the seafood special.

So, as their dinner was served and as they made pleasant small talk about their commonalities, why was she still thinking about Blake? Why was she obsessing over the way Blake had looked at her tonight? Like he was happy to see her, like he appreciated what he saw. Or was that her imagination? And, if so, why would she even bother?

Waverly grew even more determined not to allow Blake to ruin this evening for her and Reggie. Even if it took all of her self-control and focus, she would not let Blake win. So she asked Reggie to tell her about where and how he'd grown up, peppering him with question after question as if she planned to write his biography. But he appeared to enjoy the spotlight and amused her with a story of what sounded like the quintessential New England childhood with two well-adjusted parents, three other siblings, a number of interesting pets, summers in the Vineyard, private schools, and finally a Yale education.

By the time dessert and coffee were being served, he'd turned the table on her, asking about her own upbringing, which was much more unconventional than his. So much so she wondered at how they seemed to have so much in common now. She was just telling him about the year she'd lived in Thailand with her mother and how she'd ridden an elephant for her sixth birthday when she saw Blake and Janice exiting the building. She knew they didn't purposely stop in front of the window outside—they couldn't possibly have staged what was clearly an argument—but like watching a train wreck, she couldn't take her eyes off of them.