protectiveness wound through her for the people in the Cove. “Who?”
“That’s not really something you need to know.”
Her senses screamed with warning as he faced the band once more, his jaw tight as he watched them pack up their gear.
“It’s personal.”
His clipped, no-nonsense tone stopped further words from spilling from her too often unstoppable lips. She snapped her mouth closed.
The atmosphere was strained between them, and her mind raced as she ran her study over his neck and shoulders. Would he bring trouble to town? Looking to wreak some kind of vengeance? To right a wrong? He certainly bore the expression and stance of someone incredibly pissed about something.
Her best friend, Izzy, often accused Kate of running full-throttle and letting her overactive imagination leave her sanity behind. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the foreboding running through her. Her past made her suspicious. She didn’t like people making judgments. Assuming things when they had no idea. But she was doing exactly that with Mac. He wasn’t to blame for her ex. For her mother. For her sister.
She drained her drink, wincing as she swallowed. She needed to get out of here before Mac said anything else. She needed to leave the guy the hell alone. “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you. I’d better get home. I have a full day tomorrow.”
“Sure.” He kept his gaze averted and took another drink. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe you will.”
With all the poise she could muster, Kate slipped from her stool and brushed past him, deftly weaving through the thinning crowd and out the door.
She was known throughout the Cove for her lightning wit and her savvy comebacks, not to mention her no-holds-barred fund-raising strategies. Yet tonight, this stranger had reduced her to a suspicious crime-busting detective at best...or a dumbass, suspicion-fueled idiot, at worst.
She pulled her phone from her purse and texted Izzy.
Just met a man who could be here to cause one hell of a stir for someone in the Cove. I’ll pop by the gallery tomorrow morning xx
* * *
MAC RETURNED TO his room, but once inside, he found everything annoying, even the window’s sea view. He tipped his head from side to side. The tension in his neck and shoulder muscles indicated sleep would be a long time coming.
The feisty woman, with her dark brown eyes and thick, curly brown hair, had been a welcome diversion, but now she’d gone, guilt had returned for the reason he was here and the task he had ahead of him. Kate Harrington’s questioning had only increased his determination to confront Marian. The doubts he was doing the right thing by telling her about the man her son had been, would not make Mac hesitate any longer.
He strolled to the window and opened it, breathing in the cold night air. Restless, Mac stared at the remaining three or four cars visible in the lamplight as the bar emptied for the night. His conscience pulled at him to call his mother. It wasn’t unusual for days to pass without him calling her, weeks, if he was on the road with some band or other. But if he called her now, her instincts would tell her something was up.
The last thing he wanted was to rouse his mother’s suspicions.
He closed the window and walked to the desk. He retrieved one of the envelopes and shook its contents on to the bed.
A photograph of his father landed face up and Mac picked it up. His dad smiled at the camera, one arm slung comfortably around Mac’s mum’s shoulders and his other hand resting lightly on Mac’s older sister’s waist. His fourteen-year-old self stood tall beside her, his chest puffed out and his first guitar proudly held in front of him.
Happy times. Good times.
His smile faltered as loss snagged his chest.
Times that would never be repeated now his father was dead. The futile hope his mother and father might one day reunite crushed. According to the dates in his father’s notes, he hadn’t yet started his search for his birth mother when this picture was taken. And it had taken many years after before he’d finally found her.
Exhaling, Mac dropped the letter, damning the cardiac arrest that had taken his father just three months before. Walking back to the desk, he picked up a red, hard-backed notebook and opened it. He scanned his father’s notes. Through these writings, Mac had realized how his father’s search for his biological mother had consumed him. His notes were intense and methodical...pretty much like the man himself.
Yet, his father had chosen to keep his findings a secret and had never contacted the woman who had given him up.
Mac swiped his hand over his face. A sure sign of his father’s habitual insecurity. Yet another example of how Marian’s abandonment must have impacted her son’s life—unbeknownst to her, of course.
But now Mac was here in Templeton, and he would find Marian Ball. Find her and make sure she learned what kind of a man her son had been.
He could start his pursuit of the old lady tonight. The last two days he’d either been holed up in his room trying to pin down a strategy or he’d wandered aimlessly around town looking at the various townhouses, wondering if Marian lived behind one of their doors, his indecision about speaking with her hounding him. But now, as frustration and impatience overtook him, his hesitation vanished. Mac gathered up the papers and stuffed them in the desk drawer along with his father’s notebook.
Snatching up the keys he’d been given upon arrival, Mac left the room, and headed downstairs Once he’d locked the back door behind him, he glanced at the upstairs windows. No doubt his departure at this time of night would cause talk. No curtains twitched and no shadows were cast behind glass.
Satisfied he hadn’t been seen, Mac walked through the garden to a small gate that took him on to a back street. He breathed deep. The cold night air was invigorating and washed away the uncertainty of whether being in the Cove was a betrayal to his father. His mother had confessed to him after the funeral that she’d dissuaded his father from looking for Marian years before, fearing what a second rejection could do to her then husband.
That reason had been weak, almost cowardly, in Mac’s opinion. Even if the circumstances that led to his father’s adoption turned out to be upsetting, his father should’ve had the guts to hear them.
As well as the notebook, his father had left behind a diary in which he had recorded his feelings and thoughts throughout his investigations. Mac’s mother’s pleas had not fallen on deaf ears. Not only had his father heard them, his inner demons had echoed them.
Mac scowled.
Well, his father’s heart had decided to call it a day...suddenly and brutally, leaving his family flailing. Since the death of his girlfriend and their baby, Mac had had trouble dealing with grief. So he’d done the only thing he could.
He gotten busy finishing what his father started.
Mac stalked through the side street until he emerged onto the main thoroughfare, which ran alongside the beach. Crossing the road, he walked across the wooden-planked promenade and gripped the railing. The guilt for abandoning his family in their hour of need pressed down on him, and he battled the sting in his eyes as he looked toward the blackness
