to come down here before making any decisions. I need to see her. I want to see for myself that she’s okay.”
“And she’s coming?”
“Tomorrow,” Hannah confirmed.
“Okay, now tell me how you’re really feeling.”
“I’m mostly numb, to be perfectly honest,” Hannah replied. “I never expected this.”
“I doubt mothers ever do, unless their daughters are wild ones, which Kelsey definitely is not,” Sue said. “Is Kelsey okay or is she totally freaking out?”
“She sounded calm, but I know she’s falling apart. She’s definitely not thinking clearly. Right now her solution is to quit college and move back to New York with me.”
“Oh, boy! I’m amazed I didn’t hear your reaction to that all the way up here.”
“So am I,” Hannah said.
“Anything I can do?”
“Just knowing you’re there when I need to talk is enough,” Hannah told her.
“I could fly down there and mediate, if it would help,” she offered.
“I’d have to give you combat pay,” Hannah joked. “No, I’ll muddle through this. Just start shaking the martinis the second I get back to New York.”
“You’ve got it, and the minute you decide you need anything more, all you have to do is call.”
“Thanks, Sue. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Thick and thin, that was our deal all those years ago,” Sue reminded her, then added dryly, “Too bad some of my marriage vows didn’t last the way our friendship has.”
“Only because you had extraordinarily bad taste in men before you met John. He’s a keeper.”
“Yeah, I think so, too, which means I’d better get in there and feed him. We miss you, sweetie. Hurry home.”
“Thanks for calling.”
Hannah disconnected the call with a smile on her face. She had other friends in New York, including Dave and his wife, and plenty of acquaintances, but Sue Dyer Martinelli Nelson was the best. If Hannah had said she needed her in Florida, Sue would have been here by morning, no questions asked. Knowing that was almost as comforting as it would have been to be sitting on the porch with her right now, a shaker of martinis between them.
Chapter 3
The Seaview Inn looked like hell. Luke Stevens hadn’t seen the place for twenty years and it was showing every one of those years with its fading paint, untended lawn, and half a dozen posts missing from the railing that wound around the sprawling front porch. In fact, it looked a lot like he felt, as if it had been tossed aside, a victim of neglect.
If the assessment of his life sounded bitter, he figured he had a right. Like too many other men returning from Iraq to find their old lives in tatters, he’d spent months in a rehab hospital in Washington, then faced the fact that going back to the life he’d left in Atlanta wasn’t an option. His wife had filed for divorce two weeks before a car bomb had shattered his leg. The doctors had saved his leg, for which he’d be eternally grateful. Even so, he was a long way from being able to stand in an operating room doing the kind of orthopedic surgery that had been his specialty before he’d come out of military retirement and answered the army’s call for doctors. Yeah, he was bitter and not one bit apologetic about it.
Sitting in a wheelchair during his recovery, staring out at the snow that had blanketed Washington one January morning a couple of weeks back, he’d suddenly had a yearning for the sunshine and palm trees he hadn’t seen since leaving Seaview Key for college more than twenty years ago. Though his family had moved away from the island to live with his sister in Arizona, Seaview had continued to have a special place in his heart. It was home. It was where he’d fallen in love for the first time, where he’d learned to fish and swim, where he’d volunteered with the local rescue squad and discovered his passion for medicine. It was, he’d decided, the perfect place to heal.
There were no memories of Lisa, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, in Seaview, no images of his kids on the stretch of white sand there. After being gone for so long, he could only hope that no one there would remember him all that well. Most of the kids in his class had fled, chasing dreams of more excitement than the tiny town could offer. If he was right about that, there would be no pitying looks to bear, no questions to be answered, just the peace and quiet he craved while he figured out what to do with the rest of his life.
Twenty years ago, there had been only one place to stay on the island, Seaview Inn, a sprawling bed-and-breakfast run for three generations by the Matthews family. Hannah had been in his class, and like the rest of them, she’d been eager to flee. He had an image of a quiet, studious girl whose face lit up when she laughed, which was all too seldom. She’d been best friends with Abby Dawson, his first love, so they’d spent a lot of time on the inn’s front porch, rocking for hours and talking about the future while sea breezes stirred the palm trees and stars sparkled like diamond chips scattered across black velvet.
He shook his head, struck by how simple life had been back then. His biggest problem had been trying to figure out how to rid Abby of her bra without getting slapped. He’d finally mastered the technique by the end of summer. He grinned as he thought of how well that skill had served him in college.
Once they’d all left for college, though, distance had taken its toll, and they’d lost touch. He’d met Lisa and stepped into his future, Seaview Key all but forgotten until recently.
With one call to Information, he’d found the number for the inn, but it had taken him days to get through to anyone. He’d found it odd and discouraging that there didn’t even seem to be an answering machine, but he’d persisted just the same, unwilling to give up on the only plan that had appealed to him in months.
When the phone had finally been answered, it was by a woman who sounded ancient and annoyed. “What do you want?” she’d demanded without so much as a pleasant hello.
“Is this Seaview Inn?”
“That’s the number you dialed, isn’t it?”
He’d grinned despite her tone. Clearly old Jenny Matthews was having a bad day. He could relate.
“It certainly is,” he agreed. “I was hoping to reserve a room.”
“We’re closed.”
Luke decided to try another approach. “Mrs. Matthews, this is Luke Stevens. I don’t know if you remember me—”
“My mind’s not gone yet,” she snapped. “Of course, I remember you. You’re Mark and Stella’s boy. Used to hang around here with that Dawson girl. She was all wrong for you, by the way. I sure as heck hope you had the good sense not to marry her.”
“I don’t know how much good sense was involved, but we didn’t get married,” he said, impressed by her memory.
“Good. Last I heard she was working in some bar up in Pensacola and hanging out with a rowdy crowd. Bikers, I suspect.”
Luke
