2. Margot
TWO
Margot
SIX HOURS EARLIER
An anonymous donor .
They were the most unlikely set of words to string together. Words that worked their way into novels and Hallmark movies, not real life. Not my life.
“Did you come to bring me another tax bill?” I had asked Dean only a little while ago.
He answered. “No. No bills this time. Let’s go in.” He was wearing a charcoal suit. I was certain he was sweating beneath the pressed white shirt. Dean had a way of showing up at the cottage unannounced. This morning was no different.
I led him in through the screened porch and into the air conditioning. I poured a glass of water.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He sat at the kitchen table, withdrawing an envelope from his briefcase. It wasn’t the usual legal envelope or one of the blue folders filled with threatening letters. He slid the envelope toward me.
“This is for you.”
“What’s this?” I ripped open the top and retrieved a check from inside. The check was made out to me and signed by Island Stewards, LLC. I stared at the amount typed into the payment box. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Dean shook his head. “It came to my office yesterday. I put a call in to the bank. It’s legit. The funds are there, and it will clear.”
“But twenty-five thousand dollars?” I took a seat at the table. “I’ve never heard of Island Stewards, LLC. What’s this company?”
Dean took out his notebook. “I’ve tried to look into that, too. All I know is it’s an LLC for another LLC. Basically, that’s a shell company, hiding the identity of the members. There was a letter that came with it.” He unfolded a printed page. “It clearly states these funds are supposed to go to you and are for the preservation of Marshoak Island’s Blue Heron Marina.”
“But who? Why?” I was stunned. Then my eyes turned to Dean. “You did this, didn’t you? I told you I’m not taking your money, Dean. I’ll figure out how to save the marina without a loan from you.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “Hey, it’s not from me. I can show you everything it came in. Here’s the letter.” He handed it to me. “My offer is still good, but I swear to you this was sent by the LLC with strict instructions for you to have the funds.”
It was hard to believe him. He’d tried on many different occasions to give me money. The legal complexities of this check seemed like something an attorney would know how to do.
“If it’s not you, then who is it?”
“I wish I knew. But it does solve your problems. You can pay the back taxes, Margot. Get the IRS off your back, and there’s enough to do some of the upgrades you want.”
“But who would do something so generous and not want to be recognized?”
“Maybe you have a fairy godmother.” He smiled. “It happens.”
I was still processing the entire conversation with Dean.
Someone had answered the prayers I didn’t know I had thrown into the Universe. I hadn’t answered the question of whether I prayed or not. Life had felt unjust and uncertain after the deaths of my parents. The irony was that I inherited an entire estate from my uncle, but he wasn’t the rich kind. He had cast me as the heroine in the opposite of a fairytale rags-to-riches story.
Now, according to Dean Waters, the attorney I had inherited from my uncle and briefly dated seven years ago, someone had swooped in to rescue me from the pit that was the Blue Heron Marina. It was unbelievable. Dean wasn’t the kind of guy to play pranks. Maybe seven years ago, he would have tried some kind of stunt, but it would have involved a drinking game and a way to get me to skinny dip with him in one of the mansion pools at the end of the island. He wouldn’t joke about something like this. He wasn’t cruel like that when he knew I was hanging on by a very worn and thin financial shred.
Still. I couldn’t believe it was true. It made it harder to believe this was real when I didn’t have proof of the check in my hands anymore. He had driven off with the check.
The dust had barely settled from Dean’s car rolling down the gravel drive when I put the phone to my ear. I wanted Caleb to be the first to know Dean was about to deposit the money in the estate account so, I could pay the back taxes that had haunted me like a bad ex since I arrived.
The phone rang. I knew I had a silly grin on my face. Who wouldn’t after learning they had money in the bank for the first time? I started to frown when I realized Caleb wasn’t going to pick up. I decided to leave a message instead of a text.
“Hey, it’s me. You aren’t going to believe this. Okay, so…. wait. I think I want to tell you in person and not drop this kind of news in a voicemail. You have to call me back as soon as you get this. Okay? I can’t wait to tell you.”
I hung up and wandered toward the boat slips. I thought about all the things I could do to repair the marina. I knew the money wasn’t the kind to give the place a full makeover, but it was enough to buy paint, make a few repairs, and start hatching a plan with a marketing budget to bring in business to the Blue Heron.
I didn’t know all the goals I had, only that I wanted to succeed at this. I wanted to do something no one believed I could—including myself.
I noticed John had packed up his tackle box and was no longer casting a line in the water. He would have been an unlikely recipient of the news, but I was dying to tell someone. Caleb deserved to be the first.
I could channel all this energy into the great reveal tonight over dinner. I would surprise Caleb with the news and make a special evening for us.
I grinned and jogged back to the cottage. I looked around, realizing that part of our love bubble had kept me from keeping the place tidy. My nervous energy had found a purpose. I began to pick up pillows, fold blankets, and take the laundry upstairs to my bedroom.
It was an unplanned gesture, but I hugged the pillow he had slept on last night to my chest and inhaled. It smelled like him. That rich scent of cedar and salt air. My body tingled. I didn’t want to let it go, but hauling a pillow with me for the rest of the day was absurd.
I tossed it toward the headboard and pulled the worn quilt over the sheets. We had a summer of bliss, untethered sex. I had been here for a couple of months, and summer for the tourist season was coming to a close.
Caleb told me it would be different once fall came. Then winter. His eyes seemed to study mine when he mentioned the changing seasons. He worried I was going to bolt. He had every reason to believe I would after the way my mom and I left the first time.
But I was committed to staying and building the Blue Heron into a viable business again. I also knew I could write when the winter months were harsh and the island turned brown and gray. I had to convince Caleb I could handle all the seasons here. All of him.
I tried to imagine Marshoak Island as something different than what it had come to mean to me. To pull off my business plan, maybe I needed an off-season. A time to recalibrate and prepare for next summer.
I exhaled. I had too many thoughts flooding my brain at once. Caleb. My failed writing career. The marina. The money. Putting roots down.
My stomach rolled.
I didn’t put roots down. My parents never had. I certainly hadn’t attempted to find a consistent living arrangement when I was in New York. I bounced from roommates to boyfriends and back to roommates.
All of it had changed with a single piece of paper in the mail.
Everything around me belonged to me. I was responsible for it. For being the steward of Uncle Walt’s land. It could be suffocating if I let it.
Or it could be the lifeline I believed it was.
My phone rang. I smiled, hoping Caleb had gotten my message.
I grimaced when I didn’t recognize the name. I had learned that Marshoak was the kind of place where I had to answer phone calls because the local contractors didn’t like to text. It had taken most of the summer for me to get used to the idea. Every time I answered an unknown number felt like playing a weird version of roulette.
“Hello?” I tested who was on the other line. I was expecting to hear back from one of the bait suppliers on the island.
“Is this Margot Delaney?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Hi. It’s Gemma from Tide Cellular, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in a new plan.”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested, Gemma.”
The telemarketer tried to convince me to stay on the line, but I saw a car roll through the opening into the parking lot.
“I’m sorry. I need to go.” I hung up and pushed through the screen door. I peered through the tinted glass to try to make out who was driving.
It was possible someone was lost, but the winding drive from the main road to the marina usually dissuaded anyone who started down the one-way path.
The sun was bright. I stepped closer to the car that had parked directly in front of the cement stoop.
The door opened, and I gasped. “Ethan?”
He slammed the door. “Hi, Margot.”
I didn’t budge. “What are you doing here? I thought you left last week. Did you come back to the island?”
He shrugged. “I stuck around,” he admitted. “Longer than I planned, I guess.”
He looked out of place here. How did I not know he had been here an entire week? For once I was disappointed in the island gossip mill.
“Why would stay? Why are you still here?” I pressed.
Ethan cleared his throat. “I didn’t think I could go back to New York. Not yet anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know I really screwed up and I’ve been thinking about how to make it up to you. At least try and make it right.”
My stomach turned. Shit. Was Ethan the anonymous donor? Was that what the money was about? Pity or some kind of repayment for being a decent girlfriend? I didn’t want girlfriend money. Or Ex-girlfriend money.
“You don’t need to do anything like that. You should go be with your dad.”
“I can’t go back yet, Margot. I don’t think I can see him.”
I closed my eyes. He was struggling. “Do you want to come in for a minute? At least get out of the sun?” I wasn’t heartless. Even with Ethan.
He nodded. “That would be nice. Yeah.”
He followed me inside the cottage. I offered him a glass of tea.
It was strange that he was inside my sanctuary. The one I needed after we broke up and my life in New York crumbled. He wasn’t a part of this life. I didn’t know how to let him even stand in the kitchen without wanting to shove him back outside where he belonged on the perimeter of my life.
He sat at the counter, sipping the tea. He made a face. I knew it was too sweet for him.
“What have you been doing all week?” I was curious.
He shrugged. “Surprisingly, a lot of things. I windsurfed.”
I blinked. “What? Are you serious?” I couldn’t picture it. Not Ethan. He was born in a suit. Meant to fly first class and eat in five-star restaurants. Marshoak Island was never on his travel itinerary.
He cracked a smile. “Yes. And I’m pretty good at it. At least that’s what the instructor told me.”
I folded my arms. “I guess if you stay up on the board and ride the waves down the beach, then yes.”
“Could we talk? Not about the wind surfing,” he clarified.
I leaned against the kitchen sink. “Didn’t we have this conversation last week at the diner? I can’t help you with your dad. As shitty as that might be. Believe me it makes me feel like absolute shit. I can’t go through it with you. I’m not the person who can help you.”
“I know.” He nodded. “Caleb mentioned it was too hard on you.”
I blinked. “What? When did you talk to Caleb?”
“He didn’t tell you?” he asked.
I didn’t want to show Ethan that there was a crack between Caleb and me. There wasn’t. But the news surprised me, and my reaction gave Ethan a sliver of something he shouldn’t have—insight into my relationship. What I needed now was the truth.
I pressed into the countertop. I stared at Ethan.
“No, he didn’t mention it, but you’re going to tell me everything. I want you to start from the beginning.”