course.”
“Why haven’t you said anything about Ellie? I mean, other than telling me I need to get beyond it. You came to her funeral but you never asked about her death. You never asked what it was like for me to find her, either.”
He shrugged helplessly. “Because I know how much you loved her. And I know how hard it was to lose her. There’s nothing anyone can say to make that better.”
“God, I miss her.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Maisey wished she could go back in time. She missed Jack, too, but she would never admit it. So maybe she’d inherited more of her mother’s “damn” pride than she cared to acknowledge.
Fortunately, Keith didn’t try to compensate for his inability to comfort her with the typical clichés—that she’d get over Ellie’s death, that time heals all wounds, that the loss of her baby was no one’s fault. She’d told herself those things plenty of times, and he was right. They were a waste of breath. The pain she felt didn’t respond to logic.
“Will you give me a ride back to Smuggler’s Cove?” she asked.
“I’ll need to get the truck. You can’t stay there without furniture, and we can’t fit a fridge in the back of the Mercedes.”
Maisey nodded and he went to grab the keys. But he didn’t have good news when he returned.
“Tyrone’s in town with the truck. He’s getting some fertilizer and trees he plans to replace. We’ll have to wait until he’s back.”
“I can’t wait.” It was too hot and humid to stand outside, and she wasn’t going back into the house. “Can you take me now, in the car? And bring the truck over whenever it’s available?”
He rubbed his forehead. “I’d like to say yes, but I have no idea when we’ll be able to use the truck. Maybe Tyrone has other errands he didn’t mention to Clarissa. I can’t leave you over there in an empty house.”
“Trust me, I prefer to be there,” she said, and stalked to the car.
“I’m afraid that by encouraging you to come back, I’ve dragged you into the same quicksand that’s pulling me under,” he said. “I’m not sure I can take it.”
“Everything will be fine,” she said, tapping the roof of the car for emphasis.
“That’s what you think,” he muttered as he got in the other side.
It wasn’t until they were backing out of the drive that Maisey saw the curtain in the drawing room move and knew her mother had been looking out at them.
MAISEY HAD RETURNED to Smuggler’s Cove only an hour and a half after she’d left it, so it wasn’t any surprise that the key to Unit 9 wasn’t under the mat. Keith drove her around the bungalows, looking for Rafe. Although they didn’t have a truck yet, they thought they could move a few smaller items in the car. But Rafe wasn’t around. They could see where he’d been cutting up a tree limb that’d crashed through the roof of Unit 4, so he hadn’t been gone long. She figured he must’ve run to town for a new saw blade or something.
Without any way to get into the unit that contained the furniture, there wasn’t a lot they could do. So they sat on the porch steps and talked for forty-five minutes. Keith said she should leave the island, get out while she could. But she said she wouldn’t abandon him, that she wouldn’t be defeated so easily.
Slowly his mood seemed to improve. He might still have been brooding when he went to get the truck, but he was no longer ranting about Josephine.
As relieved as Maisey was that they’d be together more and she’d be able to offer advice and support, she was also relieved to be alone for a while. Not having to put any further energy into smiling or listening or saying the right things allowed her to relax for the first time since she’d set foot on the island. That also gave her ample opportunity to mull over the meeting with her mother, which still made her angry. But she told herself to take her own advice and quit letting Josephine upset her. “You can’t give her that much power,” she’d told Keith.
Easier said than done, but they both had to try...
Maisey had no idea when her brother would be back—if the truck was even available—so she changed into shorts, a T-shirt and sandals and went down to the beach. She’d seen the seaward bungalows briefly when they’d gone looking for Rafe; she knew that Unit 1 sat crooked on its pilings, Units 2 and 3 had lost their porches and Unit 4 had that hole in the roof from the tree limb Rafe was removing. But the damage seemed even worse now that she was examining it up close.
Rafe had plenty of work ahead of him. Would he be able to finish before the next major storm? She wondered about that as she went to the water’s edge, took off her sandals and waded in the surf.
The rhythmic slap of the waves proved calming. She imagined her father standing at her elbow, gazing out across the water, and wished he was really with her.
Although Maisey would’ve liked to stay at the beach all afternoon, she didn’t dare linger. Because of her long day of travel, the battery in her cell phone was dead. She’d plugged in her phone before leaving the bungalow, but she didn’t have it with her and didn’t want to make Keith come searching for her once he returned with the truck. So, after about thirty minutes, she went back.
When she caught glimpses of a black vehicle through the trees, she hurried out of the woods. She had no idea what color truck her mother had purchased to help maintain the estate. But she didn’t see any sign of her brother. It was Rafe Romero with his Ford F-250. He was up on her porch, putting the key under the mat as promised.
She wished she could duck back into the shelter of the trees until he was gone, so she wouldn’t have to confront him again. But her movement had drawn his attention.
“Back already?” he asked.
She walked toward him, carrying her sandals in one hand. “It was a short visit.”
He glanced up and down the road. “Where’s Keith?”
“He must still be at Coldiron House, trying to get the truck.”
“But he’ll be coming?”
“Any minute.” She spoke with enough confidence that he nodded, told her the key was under the mat and left.
Maisey was sure Keith wouldn’t be much longer. But when another hour passed, and she still hadn’t heard from him, she began to worry.
Where could he be?
Her cell was now charged, so she tried to reach him.
The call went straight to voice mail. She texted him afterward but didn’t get a response that way, either.
Had he and Josephine had another of their famous screaming matches—about her, or what Josephine had said about Ellie, or even that comment about Keith’s work at the flower shop?
Anything was possible. When it came to Keith and Josephine, it didn’t take much to cause a fight, especially on a day like today when one or both were on edge. And if they had argued,
