Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
SAWYER
T he Sutter’s Ferry Community Center was packed. The whole place held a surprising air of revelry, which was a damn sight better than the somber receiving line Willa had imagined that day up at Sutter House. She’d been so wound up about the idea of having all these people tromping through her grandparents’ house that I’d convinced her to think outside the box and do something entirely different. Instead of a formal wake, we were having a memorial potluck at the community center, which the Sutters themselves had funded decades before.
Tables were set up along one wall, groaning under the weight of all the death casseroles, mini sandwiches, dessert bars, and other offerings. There was certainly enough food to feed the army of people who were coming through. Poster-sized photos of Willa’s grandparents sat on easels marking either end of a massive bulletin board. Everyone in town had been invited to bring and post pictures of Henry and Vivian. Over the past hour and a half, it had filled up.
I hadn’t known Henry and Vivian Sutter all that well, but I thought maybe they’d really appreciate this more community-centric version of remembrance. Certainly, it was a lot easier on Willa herself. All we’d had to do was notify Mimi and Mama Flo, and they’d reached out to everyone else to get shit done. There’d been no written invitation. The call had gone out on the island grapevine. Hence, there was very little chance that John and Victoria Hollingsworth would know about it.
I had no idea if they’d headed up to Sutter House expecting… something. They weren’t staying up there. According to the rumor mill, they’d booked a room at the boutique hotel in town. But nobody seemed to know exactly where they’d gone to ground after the memorial service. Were they even now walking through the house they assumed they owned, making an inventory of all the heirlooms that had been passed down by the Sutter family for generations? I didn’t really give a shit, so long as they stayed well away from Willa.
My gaze cut back to where she was holding court, flanked by Gabi and Bree, who’d made sure she had food and wine as she spoke to the latest in a long, long line of community members who wanted to pay tribute to her grandparents. Because they’d assumed guard duty, I was patrolling the perimeter, still trying to walk off the simmering rage toward her father. John Hollingsworth wasn’t the kind of guy to get his hands directly dirty, but oh, how I’d wished he’d taken a swing, so I could’ve handed him his ass. Even though I knew Willa would’ve absolutely hated the scene that would’ve caused. Squaring off with them at the church, I’d seen more of the little girl I’d dubbed Wren. But she hadn’t run, hadn’t hidden, no matter how much she’d wanted to.
It made me appreciate how fucking hard she’d worked to build a life here, despite everything. She had support. More, perhaps, than I’d given her credit for. And I was glad of it. In her own quiet way, she’d made her own niche in this community. That was how she wanted it. She’d never been someone who wanted to get anything because of her family name—either of them.
As I made my way around the room, I overheard snippets of conversations that made me realize just how much Willa had given back to the island since returning.
“If it wasn’t for Willa’s grant writing, we never would have been able to expand the library’s technology center last year.” This came from Marsha McCubbins, who’d been head librarian since we were kids. “Do you know the impact that’s had on our job training classes?”
The elderly man beside her folded his hands over the head of a cane. “I don’t know how we would have managed without the free school lunch program she helped establish. So many families rely on that now.”
“And don’t forget the no-kill animal shelter!” a teenager piped up. “We can adopt pets here now, instead of having to go to the mainland.”
It seemed her quiet acts of service had made a huge impact. No wonder she had the respect and appreciation of so many here on the island. It made me proud to see the adult she had become—still inherently kind-hearted and wanting to help others, just like the girl I remembered.
But as my gaze strayed back to her, I couldn’t help but see that, even surrounded by all these people I knew would help her in a minute, she managed to seem alone, as if there were a force field around her. I hated that. It made me remember Rapunzel in her tower. I seriously had no idea how anyone like her and Jace could come from the parents they had. Watching her navigate all this on her own, I hoped like hell the mission he was on was worth it. Not like he’d known about the death in the family when he’d taken the assignment, but still, it was hard not to resent the fact that he wasn’t here.
Then again, if he had been, I might not get to be this close to Willa myself. And that was another one of those details I just wasn’t gonna analyze right now.
Plenty of folks were still hovering, clustered in groups and talking as they waited for the chance to pay their respects, but I could see the droop in Willa’s shoulders as she began to wilt from all the people, the subtle flinch at the rising noise of competing voices. She needed a little distance, some fresh air and quiet to recalibrate, so I cut through the crowd.
Old Tobin Ruscoe leaned toward Willa, his rheumy eyes warm. “Your grandparents were the backbone of this community, Willa. I remember when that fierce hurricane hit us back in ’98. My family didn’t have a safe place to ride out the storm. Without hesitation, your grandparents opened the doors of their home, turning Sutter House into a makeshift shelter for anyone in need. They cooked for us, shared stories to keep our spirits up, and made sure every single person felt safe until the storm passed. Their kindness in those terrifying hours is something I’ll never forget. They were the reason so many of us stayed through all the hard years and keep calling Hatterwick home.”
Easing next to her, I jumped into the conversation. “I remember my dad talking about that storm. Made a hell of a mess.”
“Sure did. But we recovered and made things better than ever, because of the Sutters. We’re sure gonna miss them.”
She folded one of his gnarled hands between both of hers. “Thank you, Mr. Ruscoe. I appreciate you sharing that with me.”
I settled a hand on Willa’s shoulder and squeezed. “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, I need to have a word with Willa.”
She shot me a look of vague alarm as I deftly steered her around the crowds and toward the back side of the building that faced the fishing docks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You just need a breather. We’re getting out of here for a little bit.”
The summer sun hung low, glinting off the water as we burst through the doors. I suspected this would go on for at least another hour. Willa kept on walking out to the end of the nearest pier. Pressing both hands to the small of her back, she arched, stretching until her spine cracked.
“Thanks for that. I did need a break.”
Because the urge to touch her was so strong, I leaned back against the railing opposite her. “Thought so. How you holding up?”
“Better than I thought I would. This has been good. It was a fantastic idea, Sawyer. You were right. It helps to hear all these stories from everyone, showing how much they loved my grandparents, and how much they meant to the community. They’re going to be remembered here, no matter how things end up with the house and the rest of their property.”
I saw the moment the prospective fate of their estate settled over her again and threw all my good intentions out the window. “Come here.”
When I reached for her, she came easily, needing the comfort I offered. Having her lean on me was one of the best feelings in the world, though I absolutely hated the reason she needed it. My hand found her nape again and began to rub at the knots there.
“No matter what happens, we’re gonna get through it, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” She sucked in a bracing breath but made no move to leave my embrace. “I’m no stranger to doing hard things. I just have to see them one more time at the reading of the will tomorrow. And then we’ll know and can deal with whatever the fallout is. But no matter what, they’ll go. The dispensation of the estate is all they care about, and even if it’s all theirs, they won’t stay. My father always hated it here.”
I thought of all the stories I’d heard today about the things that Willa herself had done for the community. She was a gifted grant writer, and she’d put that skill to work for the betterment of the island. I knew those were all things her grandparents would have been aware of and proud of. Of all those in the younger generations, she was the one who’d actually lived up to their legacy, and I wondered if maybe whatever they’d ultimately decided would surprise her.
I certainly hoped so.
Either way, she was right. Tomorrow she’d find out what came next, and I’d be here to support her no matter what.