Chapter 1 #2
“I won’t let her out of my sight,” he said softly.
“Carrie,” Alisha said, “can I have a word? In the kitchen.”
Carrie nodded and walked with her. A little annoyance flared, more at the day than at Alisha, but she pushed it down.
“Did you tell Maggie’s mother?” Alisha asked once the door swung shut behind them.
“I had to,” Carrie said. “She’s on the first flight. I can’t let Maggie go.”
“With me,” Alisha said, finishing the thought.
Her eyes darkened. “I understand that. I should have done a better job yesterday. I’ll carry that for a long time.
” She drew a steady breath. “My father will be with us, and he won’t let the kids out of his sight.
More importantly, I need time with them today.
Part of my criminology degree was psychology.
I’ve already started to ask gentle questions.
How they felt. What they noticed. It will help the police. ”
Carrie blinked. “Criminology. Matt said you were well qualified. I didn’t realize.”
Alisha flushed, a quick wash of color. “I keep studying. It’s how I cope.
” She hesitated. “There is something else. Yesterday at the fair Maggie brought up her father. She’s angry and confused.
I was going to mention it when we got home, then everything went wrong.
If I take them with me, I can keep her talking without making it feel like an interview. ”
Carrie felt her resistance soften. Alisha might be exactly what Maggie needed in this moment, and Maggie might not even realize it. Tessa wouldn’t like it, but Tessa did not like many things she could not control. Carrie rubbed her temples and decided.
“All right,” she said. “Maggie can go.”
Relief loosened Alisha’s shoulders. “Thank you. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Keep Tessa updated,” Carrie said with a rueful smile. “She’s worse than any military interrogator.”
“Trent said the same,” Alisha said, and the spark in her eyes betrayed the way his name lived under her skin.
Carrie saw it and tucked the small hope away.
Perhaps something good might grow out of this tangle.
Perhaps Maggie would find a way through her anger.
Perhaps her own heart might find a steadier beat too.
They returned to the front hall. The decision washed through the group like sunlight. Maggie grabbed a tote, Cody whooped, and the dogs spun in circles. Alisha organized bags and water. Matt opened the door and the scent of the sea rushed in.
At the threshold Matt paused. His gaze found Carrie and held. It hit low and warm in her chest.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asked. His voice had the rough edge that always worked on her nerves.
“No,” Carrie said, though part of her wanted to say yes. “I need to straighten this place and get the guest room ready for Tessa.”
“When things settle,” Matt said, hesitant only because the room was full of ears, “would you have dinner with me?”
Carrie’s heart kicked. The memory of last night’s kiss flashed bright. “Like a date?” she asked. Her voice came out softer than she intended.
“Yes,” he said. “A dinner date.”
She held his eyes and felt something open that had been closed for a very long time. “Yes. I would like that.”
“Good,” he said, and the smile that followed was quiet and sure. “We’ll make arrangements.”
He turned with the children as if nothing significant had been said. Carrie stood and watched the door pull closed behind them. For a moment she let herself feel the full sweep of emotion. Fear, relief, excitement, and a little joy, all at once.
The house settled into a gentler quiet after they left.
Carrie gathered towels from the backs of chairs, straightened the throw on the sofa, and took comfort in the humble work of making a space right.
Twenty minutes later she stepped from a hot shower, pulled on clean jeans and a soft shirt, and made up the second guest room with fresh sheets and a quilt.
If Tessa chose to stay, she would not have to argue with a bed that smelled like last summer.
She had just finished stacking two extra pillows when a knock sounded at the front door.
Carrie dried her hands on her jeans and crossed the hall. She opened the door to find a woman about her own age on the porch. Dark hair, strong features, and an air of strain, as if the night had stolen sleep and left questions.
“Hello,” Carrie said. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Lori Carlton?” the woman asked. Her gaze slid past Carrie into the house and back again. Something in her manner made Carrie’s skin rise. The question sounded polite. The eyes were measuring.
“No,” Carrie said. “I’m her friend. I’m staying at her house for the summer while she’s away.”
The woman’s shoulders slumped. The motion read as disappointment. The feeling didn’t ring true. “I need to speak with her,” she said. Her glance lifted to the house next door. “Do you know where Mr. Parker is? I need to speak with him as well.”
“I’m not sure,” Carrie said, keeping her tone neutral. She did not intend to deliver Matt to a stranger on the doorstep. “I’m Carrie Ware,” she added, offering the buffer of a polite introduction. “And you are?”
The woman met her eyes. “I am Cheryl Winters.” She paused, as if waiting for the name to land. “My mother was Delia Winters. She owned the land these houses are built on.” A small correction followed, soft but sharp. “I suppose that means I own the land now.”
The world tilted a notch. For a second, the only sound Carrie heard was the soft lap of waves in the distance and the small tick of the entry clock. The name was a key. It turned every door at once.