Chapter 4
Calista
“Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes it smacks you in the face, other times it whispers gently in your ear . . . it’s okay to let go.”
—Eloisa Hobby
The ferry headed straight for Marshmallow Landing, and the lavender glow of numerous jacaranda trees in full bloom snatched Calista’s breath away.
The vibrant purple blossoms created a sheltering canopy that stretched across the entire island. The sweet floral scent reminded her of her mother’s fragrance, and sudden grief tugged at her like an anchor. A salty lump clogged her throat.
She supposed there would be many such emotional moments throughout the weekend.
Calista fingered the locket around her neck to soothe herself and took in the surrounding ocean, sparkling with an intense crystalline brilliance.
She shielded her eyes with her palm and marveled at the way the sunlight danced across the lapping waves like endless diamonds.
“Wow, it’s like something from a fantasy dreamscape,” Athena said.
They stepped off the boat and the dockworker, a teenage girl with short, spiky hair the color of the jacaranda blooms and an Indigo Girls T-shirt, asked to see their tickets.
“Hello, my name is Orion,” she said. “Welcome to Hobby Island. Just as a reminder, there are no cars on the island. We get around via golf carts, scooters, bicycles, or our own two feet.”
Another teen, this one a brunette in French braids, jean shorts, and Doc Marten boots, handed out island maps.
“Hi, I’m Artemis. Please remember that cell service is quite spotty on the island.
If you need a reliable way to communicate with family and friends, you can check out walkie-talkies from the Visitor Center in Crafters’ Corner.
Also, we don’t have wi-fi. Island orientation is held this afternoon at four p.m.”
The whimsy of Artemis and Orion appealed to Calista since she and Athena also had Greek names.
Orion led the way down the dock to an awaiting safari-style golf cart that accommodated eight. “Finnegan family, party of seven,” Orion called out as she hopped behind the wheel. “All aboard!”
The Finnegans, two parents, three kids, and an older couple that Calista presumed were grandparents, climbed into the battery-powered vehicle.
What would that be like—to have a close-knit family who vacationed together?
Must be nice. Were they here to celebrate Demetra’s life, or were they only regular tourists?
“Another cart will be along wiki-quickie. Artie will bring your luggage.” With a laugh, Orion set off with her passengers.
Artie was busy accepting suitcases from the ferryman and stacking them on the dock. Other guests from the ferry milled around, taking in the island and snapping photos with their phones.
Edgy and overwhelmed, Calista stepped away from the others to collect her thoughts, her feet sinking into the soft, sugar-white sand. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with tropical scents and sea air, trying to block out the world around her.
Okay, she needed a game plan.
First, she must find out about this ridiculous golf tournament Reid Thornton mentioned and make it clear to Eloisa Hobby that she had no intention of playing in it. She’d hung up her golf clubs five years ago. Golf offered nothing but pain and sorrow.
Unrealistic for Eloisa to spring this on her and Athena. In all honesty, Calista resented it. The past was past, and she resolved to keep it there. Well, as much as she could under the circumstances. She opened her eyes and slanted a glance over at Athena.
Her gregarious sister had struck up a conversation with Artemis, and she was helping the girl carry the suitcases to a golf cart with a small flatbed trailer attached. Her sister looked somewhat incongruous in her designer pencil skirt and spike heels.
Who was she trying to impress?
That’s uncharitable, Calista Grace. Get over there and help them.
Calista grabbed the nearest suitcase and hefted it up.
Gosh, the thing was heavy. The latch broke, spilling the contents onto the dock.
A half-set of seven golf clubs—irons, woods, and putter—clattered as they hit the weathered boards.
Terrific. What disrespectful lunatic packed their clubs loose in a suitcase instead of a golf bag?
All gazes swung to Calista.
“Sorry.” She ducked her head and, cheeks burning, bent to retrieve the scattered clubs.
“Those are mine,” a masculine voice said.
Reid Thornton.
Huh, where had he come from? She hadn’t seen him on the ferry. She glanced up. Thornton was tying a motorized skiff to the dock. He’d gotten a golden ticket too? Ugh, her stomach soured. She did not have the mental bandwidth for this guy.
He squatted beside Calista as she stuffed his pitiful clubs back into the suitcase.
She guessed he wasn’t shooting anywhere close to par with this ragtag half set that looked as if he’d snagged them at a pawnshop.
When they were teenagers, Thornton had been a decent enough golfer—so why the crappy clubs? What was up?
She didn’t trust the guy any farther than she could heave him. She also didn’t like being this close to him. Rising to her feet, Calista dusted her palms together and stepped back.
He closed the suitcase up and stood to meet her gaze with a nervous smile, which surprised her. He’d always been so cocksure of himself. “Thanks for the help.”
Hand outstretched, Artemis hustled over. “Ticket?”
Thornton upped the wattage on his grin. “Hi there.”
“Ticket.” Artemis held her ground, her tone friendly but firm.
“I’m here for the golf tournament.” Reid gave a head tilt and half-lowered lashes to make himself look even more endearing. Some things never changed. The man milked his charm like a dairy farmer.
Calista suppressed a snort.
“That’s not until Fourth of July weekend,” Artemis said. “You’re a month early.”
Wait, what? The golf tournament wouldn’t be until the Fourth of July? Relief flooded Calista. She was only here through the weekend. She’d gotten herself worked up over nothing.
“If you don’t have a golden ticket, you’ll have to leave.” Artemis pointed at his boat.
The guests remaining on the dock watched them with interest. Calista admired Artie’s chutzpah. At that young age, Calista hadn’t possessed the audacity to speak to an adult with such confidence.
What would Thornton do?
Calista held her breath. While the man was persistent, she’d never seen him angry when thwarted. She’d known the guy since they were fourteen, when he started caddying for Gavin Gonzales at PGA tournaments. He used that beguiling grin, believing he could persuade anyone of anything.
Two eight-passenger golf carts showed up, one driven by an older woman with steel-gray hair, basketball player height, and a crisp British accent. She wore sensible shoes and a frilly gingham dress.
“I’m Dot,” she proclaimed and read the names of her passengers off a clipboard. The guests boarded, and Dot took off, belting out an off-key rendition of “Under the Sea” and urging her passengers to sing along.
After Dot left, the second golf cart, piloted by a vivacious blonde dressed head to toe in vibrant pink like a senior citizen Barbie, pulled up.
Her Southern drawl dripped honey as she introduced herself as Vivian and invited the people on her list to climb aboard.
Once Vivian’s bunch left, only Calista, Athena, Artemis, and Reid remained on the dock.
Calista and Athena exchanged glances. What now?
At that moment, a steady clicking noise drew their attention to the cobblestone path leading into the heart of the island.
Clack, clack, clack.
From the thicket of jacaranda trees, another older woman appeared riding a unicycle as she knitted, her silver hair a striking contrast to the lush purple blossoms. Amazing coordination.
She wore a dashing red bucket hat, looking as if she were a refugee from a flapper-era speakeasy.
A stark white lily peeked from the hatband, and her layered clothing was a bold blend of crimson, scarlet, and ruby.
Even though twenty years had passed since Calista last saw this unusual woman on the courthouse steps soothing Demetra, she recognized her at once.
Eloisa’s face broke into a smile as warm as a hug. She pocketed her knitting and hopped off the unicycle in an adroit move—leaving it standing upright by some miracle—and flew straight toward them, a joyous flame.
She hugged first Calista and then Athena. “Welcome, welcome to Hobby Island. I’m so sorry about your mother.”
There were many things Calista wanted to ask her, but she didn’t know where to start. Besides, this wasn’t the time. Not in front of Reid Thornton.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Eloisa said, reading Calista’s mind. “But we’ll have plenty of opportunity over the next month to sort things out. We have so many extraordinary events planned!”
A month? Numerous events? What was the woman babbling about?
Calista had one goal—deal with her mother’s passing as fast as possible and get back to her life.
She had a job, obligations. Although her boss was understanding and he had told her to take as much time as she needed, a month away was not what he meant. At least, she didn’t think so.
“Like what?” Athena asked.
“So many things! We’re starting construction on a memorial garden for Demetra. There will be the golf tournament, of course, named in your mother’s honor. We’re planning on making it an annual charity event with all proceeds going to cancer research.”
Calista met her sister’s bewildered gaze. Athena was as much in the dark about this as she was.
“Auntie Eloisa,” Artemis said, waving at Reid. “I don’t want to interrupt, but this guy here doesn’t have a golden ticket.”
“That’s okay,” Eloisa said. “Mr. Thornton called and requested an invitation. I didn’t have time to send him a ticket. Please have Orion escort him to bungalow ten when she returns.”