Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
PRESENT DAY
Josie
Our first stop is the tailor to pick up Garrett’s suit.
Madeline said he had his final fitting last week, so it’s only a matter of running to get it.
When Ian puts the truck into park in front of the shop, I consider suggesting that I’ll stay in the car.
The incident with the guy on the sidewalk outside the bookstore is still fresh in my mind.
I keep going over and over it in my head.
Was he watching me? Or did I imagine it?
The fewer interactions I have with people in this town, the less of a chance that the fateful day from my past will resurface.
When Madeline first announced that her wedding would be on Sandy Harbor, Mom called me immediately.
“I can’t skip it,” I said, my stomach churning with anxiety. “I have to be there.”
“Of course you do. But just lay low. It’s stressful enough that Madeline lives there, and I suppose I’ll never convince her to leave now.”
“No.” I already tried that a year ago when she first went back to Sandy Harbor looking for her lost love, Adam.
Now that she’s marrying Garrett and found her community here, I would never want her to give it all up because of me.
If that means that I have to figure out how to navigate moving around on the island and spending time with Ian, it’s the least I can do for her sake.
As Ian hops out of the truck and heads around to swing my door open, I know I can’t hide out in the car all afternoon.
I’ll just have to go along and get it over with as quickly as possible.
The second we walk into the shop, a middle-aged woman in a gorgeous maxi dress that I’m willing to bet she made herself comes out from behind the desk to greet Ian with a hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says, and they’re clearly old friends.
He’s the most prominent businessman on the island and one of the richest men in the state.
He probably singlehandedly keeps her in business with suits to wear to million-dollar deals.
Though, I admit I’m struggling to reconcile the image of Ian in a suit with the orange and pink board shorts and flip flops of yesterday, or the bicep-hugging baby blue T-shirt today, but he did mention he’s not working this week.
Ian introduces me to the woman, whose name is Serena. I’m about to ask her about her dress when she says, “You must be Madeline’s sister. I recognized you with that red hair right away.”
“Yes, I’m here from California for the wedding.
” I remind myself that no matter how much my mother worries over it, Madeline has been back on this island for a year.
If someone from that fateful day was going to spot her on the street and connect her to me, it would have happened already.
This is a small town, after all. Everything would have already come out in the open, and the fact that it hasn’t means it probably won’t. Everyone has moved on.
Everyone except me.
Ian and Serena are chatting now, and I do my best to shove the worries out of my head and focus on their conversation.
“My mom loves all the upgrades you made to the house,” Serena is saying. “You know you really didn’t have to do all that. Just fixing the hurricane damage would have been more than enough.”
“Well, she’s getting older. Those steps and the bathtub weren’t going to work for her for much longer. It made sense to make the changes now, before she has a fall.” Ian lifts a shoulder like it’s no big deal.
“Still, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble to replace them. The ramp alone…”
“It was no trouble,” Ian insists.
My gaze flips back and forth between them.
Serena must see my questioning expression because she leans in to tell me, “Ian’s company has been a such a help to the older people after the hurricane this past October.
Like my mom. She’s on a fixed income, and the hurricanes are only causing more and more damage every year. It’s hard for her to keep up.”
Ian waves a hand. “We do what we can. It was just a few shingles and window repairs.”
“And a ramp up to the door and a new shower with handlebars,” Serena points out. “Now she’ll be able to stay in her home as she ages. So many older folks have been able to stay out of nursing homes with a few renovations from Langley Capital.”
When Ian’s dad ran the business, he would have viewed rickety steps and slippery bathtubs as an opportunity to buy the property out from under an older person and build a monstrosity of a beach house. He certainly wouldn’t have gone in and fixed it for them.
I’m still thinking about the conversation as we head out to the truck with Garrett’s suit. Once we’re both buckled into our seats, I steal a glance in Ian’s direction. “Some developers on this island would have been eager to see the older people move out so they could buy their land,” I say.
“Like my dad?” Ian’s voice is laced with a quiet pain that has my heart clenching. “You knew me better than to ever think I’d turn out like him, right?”
I turn to face the windshield so I don’t have to meet his eyes.
Why did I bring this up when I knew it might mean wading into the past?
The fact is that I did know him back then, and it’s becoming harder to pretend that we’re just acquaintances now.
But his dad is the last person I can talk about.
“What else have you been doing with the company?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation back to the present.
“Let me show you.” Ian drives the car down Harbor Boulevard for a few blocks before turning onto a side street that will take us to the ocean side of the island.
He slows the truck at the end of the street where a path leads up the dunes and down the other side to the beach.
Two rows of small cottages flank the path, each painted different shades of turquoise, seafoam, and lemon yellow.
The island is eighteen miles long, and I didn’t grow up in this area, so I wouldn’t have necessarily been familiar with this little neighborhood.
I assume the renovations are the work of Ian’s company.
“These are so cute,” I say, taking in the matching front porches with swings blowing in the sea breeze and bright-white front doors.
They’re built in the style of beach bungalows that have been here for decades, and a lot of work has gone into fixing them up.
They look brand new. “I don’t remember these from when I lived here. ”
“They weren’t here then,” Ian says. “Langley Capital built them.”
“You built them?” I turn back to stare at the houses again. “I assumed they were here for decades, and you renovated them.”
He grins at me. “That’s how I wanted them to look.”
My gaze sweeps over the small bungalows set apart by yards landscaped with native plants.
They can’t be more than two or three bedrooms each, set on prime ocean-front real estate.
Ian could have built half a dozen multi-story houses on this plot of land, huge structures that blocked the views of the neighbors and attracted wealthy buyers willing to pay millions. Yet, he chose this instead.
“There used to be a couple of cheaply made 1990s beach chalets here, but they got swept away during a hurricane a couple of years ago. I bought the land, and Garrett and I took a deep dive into researching the architecture of the houses they used to build in the twenties and thirties.” His pleasure over these little houses is evident as his words tumble out.
“We wanted to recreate the look as much as possible, but with modern, eco-friendly materials. We also shored up the dunes and planted native grasses, so hopefully these won’t meet the same fate as what was here before. ”
I turn my gaze from the houses to Ian. “I bet the dunes make excellent habitats for local wildlife, too.”
His mouth curves into a smile, maybe in surprise that I remember him telling me about his high school preservation project. He waves a hand at the sandy hillside, and I notice colorful birdhouses set on posts painted in colors that match the bungalows in front of us.
I cover my mouth as laughter bubbles up. “Langley Capital builds houses for all creatures.”
“We’re an equal-opportunity development company.”
I turn to face him, my heart sliding into my throat.
“You should be so proud of what you’ve done here, Ian.
I don’t just mean with these houses. I mean with your whole company.
” My words come out hoarse and unsteady.
“You always wanted to do something meaningful. It seems like you’ve accomplished that. ”
His eyes darken as they meet mine. “Thank you. That means everything from you.”
My breath hitches as the air hums between us.
I know I don’t deserve his desire for my admiration.
He accomplished all of this in spite of everything I did to destroy his life.
But every minute I spend with him like this reminds me of how good we were before it fell apart.
And for one brief, fleeting moment, I can’t help wondering if we could ever be that way again.
He leans closer, and I want to do the same. But I can’t. It’s impossible. I tear my eyes away before I do something I can’t take back.
“Where to next?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound calm and unaffected.
I can feel his gaze sweep over me as a cavern cracks open between us. With a sigh, Ian turns to start the car.
Our next stop is the shuttle company where Ian takes a moment to chat with the owner about his son’s baseball team and then check on how his elderly mother’s surgery went.
After confirming that Garrett and Madeline’s guests will all have a ride back to their hotels after the wedding, we head to the restaurant that overlooks the beach where the ceremony will take place.