Grams. She just stuffed it down in that locked box where she put everything that was painful in her life and then never opened it again. “It’s not right,” she finished lamely.
He softened in the face of her subtle vulnerability. He knew that Grams had always been Lora’s safe haven, her voice of reason. Losing her had been a blow to her emotional foundation. “The good news is, it doesn’t last long,” he said, trying to reassure her. “By dinner, he’ll go back to thinking Lana is here and she’s just out shopping or taking care of Larimar business.”
Lora’s head shot up and her look of open distress at being caught in such a vulnerable position robbed her of words for a moment. But that moment didn’t last long. Soon enough her mouth tightened as her stare narrowed. “That’s the good news?” she said, grinding any residual moisture from her eyes and smoothing the tiny skirt as if the motion alone could release the wrinkles that a long plane ride and the humidity had created. “This is a nightmare. There is nothing good about it. How long has he been like this?”
He shrugged. “A year, give or take a few months.”
“A year?” She stared. “Why didn’t someone call me?”
“We did. Remember?”
Her blank stare may have fooled someone else but he knew right at this moment she was searching her memory, looking for some way to refute his blunt statement. Heath knew as much as she did that she was wrong. She’d flat out ignored every bit of correspondence that’d come her way when it’d come from her sisters or himself. He knew it—and better yet—so did she. Still, he was curious how she planned to wiggle her way out of that knowledge.
He waited, one brow lifting in question and she had the grace to flush. Unable to hold his stare, she looked away. “Fine,” she conceded grudgingly, eager to move on. “What’s being done about it? This pretense isn’t a long-term solution.” She pressed her fingers to her temple, and he remembered her mentioning a headache earlier. For a second, she seemed to waver on her feet and Heath started forward but she shooed him away with a murmur of annoyance at her own reaction. “Damn humidity is getting to me. I need to change and get something to drink before I can think straight.”
“Your room is in the same place,” Heath said, his mouth firming. Still the same hard-nosed woman she ever was. He held back the irritation that swelled when he remembered how he’d once thought the sun rose and set in her eyes. What a fool he was then. Things had certainly changed. “I assume you remember how to find it?”
She shot him a look that said his sarcasm wasn’t appreciated, then gripped her luggage handle and trudged past him, her back ramrod straight.
He didn’t know why Lora had been the one that’d always caught his eye. Even though her sisters were pretty in their own way, there’d been no one prettier than Lora in his opinion. When he thought of all the ways he’d tried to catch her attention, to get her to see him as more than the poor island boy who did odd jobs for her Pops…ugh, it twisted his gut in disgust.
The first thing he remembered about Lora Bell was that impossibly dark hair streaming down her back like a waterfall at midnight. Lora, her sisters and their mother had arrived by ferry to St. John wearing sadness as plainly as their summer tanks. Except Lora—no, in her little face, he saw a cold knot of anger that twisted beneath the layer of grief. Whereas her younger sisters were wide-eyed with apprehension at their new surroundings, Lora had taken it in with the air of a soldier grimly going to battle. Looking back, he suspected Lora had been a different child before her father skipped out on them and her mother had died of cancer a year later. As they’d grown closer during those first few months, he’d known a different side of her, a softer side, so he’d been doubly shocked and brokenhearted when she’d given him the cold shoulder on his return. It hadn’t been his choice to leave the island; his parents had abandoned him and he’d gone looking for them. It wasn’t exactly a typical situation but Lora knew none of that. He’d never told her and she’d never been interested enough to ask.
That’s not true, a voice whispered, reminding him of that day…
Stop! Resurrecting a childhood memory wasn’t going to help him deal with the Lora Bell of today, he growled to himself. Annoyance at his own useless mental sojourn down Useless Memory Lane, made him want to do something reckless, like give Lora a piece of his mind for neglecting her family when they needed her the most. But as much as it would feel good to abrade her for her actions, he knew the satisfaction would only last a moment. The Bells would stand by Lora—as they should—and he’d lose out on the only family he’d ever known.
He drew a deep breath but his chest remained tight. Lora had only been back for less than an hour and already she was turning his life upside down. The smart thing would be to keep his distance. If they weren’t around each other, they couldn’t rub each other the wrong way. Sounded like a plan—even if Heath knew following through was going to be damn near impossible. What Lora didn’t know was that Heath had been running the resort in a shadow capacity since Pops had started to show signs of dementia creeping on. He knew more about the day-to-day operations of Larimar than any of the Bell girls. And as soon as Lora found out, he was willing to bet his firstborn, she wasn’t going to like it.
* * *
THE©FOG©IN JACK’S©MIND scared him. Why would Lorie say that her Grams was dead? Why would his sugar bird say something so mean-spirited? He’d known Lorie to be a little on the no-nonsense side, unlike her sisters who were happy-go-lucky most times. “Lana?” he called out again, the silence bouncing back at him scared him more. “Lana? Where are you?” he said, rounding the corner to her favorite sunning spot. Maybe she went to town to get supplies, or even Lorie’s favorite beef pâté from Simon, the guy who made them from scratch in his kitchen and sold them out of his cooler. A smile found him as the explanation for Lana’s absence made sense. Lana always went out of her way for her sugar birds. Of course, that’s where she was. Relieved, he let his fear and confusion melt away and detoured to the shop where he could hear Heath tinkering on something. Jack had known Heath since he was a skinny, starving boy hanging around the resort looking for work.
He entered the shop, smiling as he saw Heath pounding out some nails from a board he was going to repurpose for something else needed for the resort. Heath was no skinny boy now. The boy had morphed into a strong, able man whom Jack and Lana considered family even though they didn’t share a drop of blood. If only Lorie saw what they saw in the man. “Whatcha working on, son?” he asked, forgetting his earlier moment and eagerly looking to Heath. The man was a whiz with his hands. If it could be built, Heath could build it. If it needed fixing, Heath found a way to fix it. Larimar was lucky to have him and Jack knew it.
“Just a new mailbox. I found this in a stack of wood being tossed out. Thought I’d fix the mailbox out front,” Heath answered, his focus on pulling the nails from the wood. But Jack knew the man pretty well and could sense something was eating at him.
“Lorie’s home,” Jack said, brightening. “You ought to see her. She’s pretty as the day is long. You remember, Lorie, don’t you?”
Heath jerked a short nod and continued to work but Jack wanted to chat. The boy worked too hard. “Let’s take a break,” he suggested, smiling. “What’s the drink of the day today? Is it that vanilla rum and banana drink that tastes like a banana smoothie with kick? I love that drink. Very refreshing, yah?”
“You go on ahead, Jack. I’ve got to finish this and then get on home.”
“Stay for dinner at least,” he said, liking the idea of Heath seeing more of Lorie. He and Lana thought the two would make a great couple. Although Lana said Lorie was too focused on
