Chapter 5
Since he didn’t know where else to go, Ned drove to his best friend’s house. “Big Mac” McCarthy was still recovering from the accident at the marina in which he’d suffered a severe concussion and a fractured arm.
He hadn’t bounced back as quickly as everyone had hoped he would.
Dr. Cal had told them head injuries could be tough that way.
Often, the patient’s personality could be different as the brain recovered from the trauma of the injury.
Ned had been concerned about his friend, and knew the rest of the family had been equally worried.
They’d been friends for so long that Ned couldn’t imagine life without the old guy. That day at the marina . . . The memory of the drunk whose poor boating skills had resulted in Big Mac being pulled right off the pier ate at Ned and everyone else who’d witnessed the horror of it.
Big Mac’s son Mac had jumped into the water after his father, and Luke Harris had leaped onto the boat, finally getting the boater’s attention but suffering a badly sprained ankle in the process.
Ned shuddered just thinking about it. He’d been to see Big Mac every day since, and he’d continue to go every day until his friend was able to get back to his routine of coffee, doughnuts and bullshitting with the guys at the marina in the morning, followed by a day of “work” on the docks.
They’d all been relieved when Big Mac rallied to walk his little girl down the aisle.
Maybe the wedding would be a turning point in his recovery. They could only hope.
Ned pulled into the driveway at the White House and cut the engine. After what had transpired with Francine, he probably wasn’t fit for company, but he wouldn’t miss a day with his friend.
The wind and rain beat him up on the way to the door. On the porch, he stomped the water off his shoes, knowing how fussy Linda was about her precious house. He knocked on the door and waited.
Linda came to the door and smiled when she saw him.
“Hi, Ned. Come in.” She held the door for him and embarrassed him, as she always did, by kissing him on the cheek.
Raising five kids hadn’t done anything to diminish her petite beauty.
Blonde and blue-eyed, she could be formidable and a bit exacting, but she’d made him part of their family, and he loved her for that.
“So faithful,” she said, taking his coat. “Even in the middle of a tropical storm.”
Ned shrugged. “Nothing he wouldn’t do for me. How is he today?”
“He’s enjoying having the boys home but a little melancholy after the wedding.”
“Probably woulda been that way after giving away his baby girl even without the head bump.”
“No doubt. He’s in the family room. Go on in.”
Ned started toward the kitchen but stopped and turned back to her. “Could I ask ya something?”
“Of course.”
“If a gal says she doesn’t want ta see ya anymore, but she’s crying her eyes out when she says it, what does that mean?”
“Oh, Ned. Oh no! What happened?”
“Wish I knew. Everything was goin’ along just fine. Till today. I get the feeling she’s keepin’ something from me, but damned if I know what.”
“Maybe you need to give her some space and let her miss you a little. She’ll come around. I told Mac last night that she looks at you like a woman in love.”
“Ya think so? Really?”
She reached for him and wrapped him in a warm hug. “I do. Be patient. Let her work out whatever she’s got going on. She’ll be back.”
“I sure hope yer right.”
“When have you ever known me not to be?”
Ned threw his head back and laughed. “Not once in dern near forty years.”
“There you have it,” she said with a smug smile. “Come have some leftover wedding cake and shoot the bull with your buddy. You’ll feel better after.”
“Already do.” He gave her a peck on the forehead. “Thanks, gal.”
“Any time, my friend.”
Feeling a little lighter after his talk with Linda, Ned let her escort him into a kitchen filled with flowers left over from the wedding and accepted a cup of coffee she proudly told him she’d brewed on the gas grill like a prairie woman.
That made him laugh, too, since the last thing Linda McCarthy would ever be was a prairie woman.
He took the coffee with him into the family room, where Big Mac was watching his grown sons Evan and Adam wrestle. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
“Still time to place your bet,” Big Mac said to Ned.
“My money’s on Adam,” Ned said. The smallest of the four McCarthy boys had always been the scrappiest. The brothers were red-faced and sweating profusely as they struggled on the floor.
“Traitor,” Evan grunted out.
“I remain optimistic that they might grow up one of these days,” Big Mac said.
“Keep dreamin’, old pal. If it ain’t happened yet, it ain’t gonna.”
“There’s your opening, Adam,” Big Mac said.
Ned was delighted to see his friend engaged in the goings-on. Having his kids around always raised his spirits.
“Is anyone on my side?” Evan asked as his older brother got the better of him.
“I am, darling,” Linda said from the doorway as she watched with long-suffering patience. “But I’ll skin you both if you break anything.”
Ned chortled. He loved this rowdy family with all his heart.
As much as he wanted to tell Big Mac about picking up Stephanie after she’d spent the night with Grant, he’d never once told tales on the McCarthy kids and wasn’t about to start now.
He’d kept a lot of secrets for all five of them over the years, earning him favored uncle status with each of them.
“Ya all recovered from the big day?” Ned asked Big Mac.
“Guess so. My little girl sure seemed happy, didn’t she?”
“That she did—and she was awfully beautiful, too. It was a helluva day.”
“Since they’re stuck here thanks to the storm, everyone’s getting together at Mac and Maddie’s later so they can open their gifts. Hope you can come.”
“I’ll be there.” It occurred to Ned that Francine would probably be there, too.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He took a quick glance at Big Mac, noting that he seemed tired and still somewhat diminished by his injuries.
Wondering if his old friend would ever be the same as he’d once been filled Ned with fear and determination to see him through this.
“Some pretty big surf running out at the bluffs if ya wanna take a ride and check it out.”
“Maybe after a while.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Laura McCarthy was in love. Owen had shown her through all three floors of the Sand & Surf, pointing out nooks and crannies that made it unique, sharing stories about the guests who’d once filled the rooms and insights about the couple who’d run the hotel for five decades.
“How do you know so much about them?” she asked as they headed down the stairs to the lobby.
“I told you—I know them.”
“How do you know them?”
“They’re my grandparents.”
Shocked, Laura stared at him. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a delighted grin that told her he’d enjoyed deceiving her.
“You’ve obviously spent a lot of time here.”
“Every summer of my childhood, from the day after school got out until the day before it started.”
Having spent several summers of her own childhood with her cousins on the island, Laura couldn’t believe she’d never met him before. “Where did you live the rest of the year?”
“Here. There. Everywhere.”
The vague answer aggravated her. He seemed to be going out of his way to be an enigma. She must’ve looked annoyed, because he laughed.
“My dad is an air force general. We literally lived everywhere. This was the only real home I ever had, the one place that remained a constant. My mom grew up here, too.”
“So you stay here when you’re on the island?”
“Yep. My grandparents pay a caretaker to come in and keep a couple of rooms clean and to make sure we don’t have any unwelcome guests.”
“Like rodents?” Laura took a nervous look around the lobby.
“That and squatters who make themselves right at home.”
“They live in here?”
“We’ve had to relocate a few people since my grandparents finally reached the point where they couldn’t run it anymore.”
“Where are they now?”
“In Florida, hoping someone will fall hopelessly in love with the place and take it off their hands one of these days.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
Owen snorted with laughter. “Because that would require me to stay in one place longer than a week or two. I don’t do roots.”
“So where do you live?”
“Here. There.”
“Everywhere,” she finished for him with another exasperated scowl. “You’re very evasive.”
“Not really. I go where the gigs are. All I need is my van, my guitar and a clean pair of jeans every couple of days. Works for me.”
“Aren’t you getting kind of, um, old to be living like a hobo?”
“Old?” He hooted. “I’m thirty-three!”
“Exactly. When do you grow up and get a real job?” A flash of what might’ve been anger or even hurt crossed his handsome face, and Laura regretted that she’d been so blunt. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“I hear that a lot—that I need to get a real job.” His normally laid-back tone of voice had taken on a bitter edge.
“You know what’s so funny about that? I probably have more money in the bank than most of the guys my age who went to college, got married, shackled themselves with a mortgage and settled down to pump out two-point-five kids in the burbs.
I’ll guarantee I’m a whole lot happier than most of them are—and I bet my blood pressure is half what theirs is. ”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me or anyone. I certainly have no business judging the choices anyone else has made.”
“Made some bad ones, Princess?”
Her gaze darted up to meet his, which was once again teasing and open. “Why did you call me that?” That was her father’s name for her, and hearing it from someone else was unsettling.
He shrugged. “There’s something sort of regal about you.”
If only he knew. “No, there isn’t.”
“Whatever you say. You didn’t answer the question.”
Laura wanted to pretend like she didn’t know what he meant, but acting coy had never been her thing. “I’ve made a few clunkers. Especially lately.”