Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ISLA
I lie in bed the morning after seeing Caden, with my stomach tangled up in knots.
When I got back to the bar, Caden and Noah were gone. Alistair was talking to Jake, and I was able to pull Charlotte down to the other end of the bar to tell her what had happened. I tossed and turned all night. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there. I can still feel that molten gaze, hear the growl of his voice, see the vines snaking up his left arm. The scent of him seems to cling to me, different than before and more intoxicating—simpler than the cologne he used to wear. Like leather and soap and fresh air.
My phone buzzes. It’s Charlotte.
Checking in, she writes. Do I need to get my dueling pistols? I will fight Caden if he hurt you again.
I crack a smile for the first time since I woke up.
I’m okay, I promise her. No pistols necessary.
I’ve faced him now—surely that’s the hardest part, right? I’ve faced the big scary monster that’s been hiding under my bed for five years. He said himself he’s not staying. So he’ll do whatever he needs to do to get Marion’s case going again, and then he’ll leave. Go back to Argentina. I try and picture him there, but the images are fuzzy. He was always such an integral part of Magnolia Bay. I can’t imagine him living anywhere else in the world.
My phone buzzes again but it’s Luke this time. I sit up so fast I feel dizzy.
Good morning my queen! Mom says you two are going over the seating arrangements today?
Yup! I reply. Are you going to be there?
I’ve got another golf game with Dad and some clients. But bring a swimsuit and some sunscreen—let’s take the boat out this afternoon
The boat is really a yacht—I had been picturing something much smaller and more economical when Luke first mentioned it to me. But a day on the water with my fiancé sounds like just what the doctor ordered to banish the last of these Caden cobwebs from my mind.
I would love that, I say. See you soon!
Luke sends back a couple of kissing faces and a crown emoji. Feeling decidedly lighter and with a more positive outlook on this day, I hop out of bed and head to my kitchen to make some coffee.
“And of course we’ll have to keep the Rosenbergs and the Montgomerys on opposite sides of the room,” Lucille says with a chuckle as she puts the names at the appropriate tables.
I smile politely, though I have no idea who the Rosenbergs or the Montgomerys are. But a familiar name catches my eye on the seating chart, and I frown.
“Mrs. Richards,” I say.
“Darling, you’ve got to start calling me Lucille.”
She’s said this before, but it just feels weird—I don’t think she’s the kind of woman who likes being called by her first name. I suppose I should get used to it though. I clear my throat. “Lucille,” I say, “You’ve put Charlotte in the wrong place.”
“Who?” Lucille looks over to where I’m pointing at the name Charlotte Perez scrawled out in elegant calligraphy.
“Charlotte. She’s my maid of honor so she should be at my family’s table.”
Lucille wrinkles her nose. “Ah. Yes. The kindergarten teacher, right?”
“Right,” I say. Lucille reluctantly moves Charlotte to the table with my parents and Grace. I notice the tables with my other friends from town: Linda May, Joni Lewis—who runs Magnolia’s Petals—along with Dev and his husband Reggie, the Cochran siblings, Sheriff Briggs and his son Cody…all of them are at the very back of the room.
“I think Everton is the perfect spot for this wedding,” Lucille says. “I can already picture it—the ceremony among the vines, then drinks on the veranda of the lodge. Dinner inside, white linen tablecloths, silver settings…have you thought about what your signature flowers are going to be?”
I shake my head. I figure I’ll just ask Joni for her opinion.
Lucille sits back in her chair and primps her perfect, dark blonde curls. She wears a sleek mauve pantsuit with a large pearl necklace and matching studs, her makeup immaculate.
“Luke has been very clear about how much this town means to you,” Lucille says, patting my hand. The words themselves are kind, but there’s a tinge of condescension behind them. “And you know, we got a great deal on the rental. After that awful incident with Marion, they still need all the business they can get.”
I have to bite my cheek to keep from saying something sharp. That awful incident? Someone died —someone’s mother, someone’s daughter, someone’s wife. I take a deep breath in and remind myself I’m not marrying Lucille.
As if on cue, my husband-to-be enters the parlor. “How are the plans coming along?”
Luke is tall, with thick brown hair that curls a bit at the ends. His eyes are the color of milk chocolate, and he smiles easily, always with a hint of mischief. He spends a lot of time in the gym and has the body to show for it. His white polo hugs his biceps and is tucked into his khakis over the flat planes of his stomach.
Luke brings me a sense of calm, like the surface of the bay on a clear day. Nothing like the storm-tossed seas of Caden Everton that kept me up all night.
Lucille lights up at the sight of her son. “Very well, darling,” she says, walking over to him. “We’re just finalizing the seating arrangements.”
I stand as well, smiling, and Luke gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey babe,” Luke says.
“How was golf?” I ask.
Luke groans and rolls his eyes. “Dad hammered me. Again.”
“You need to practice your putting game!” Luke’s father calls from another room.
Luke chuckles good-naturedly and wraps his arm around my waist. “Got your swimsuit?”
I tug at the bikini string peeking out from beneath my tank top.
“Perfect,” Luke says. “I’ll go change. Dad called down to the marina on the way here, so everything’s ready for us.”
“Sounds great,” I say.
We say our goodbyes to Luke’s parents and get into his Range Rover to head to the marina. Once we are happily ensconced on two lounge chairs on the sundeck, the captain takes us out into the bay and then into Long Island Sound. The wind whips through my hair and the sun shines warmly in a sky dotted with fleecy white clouds. I feel my mind scrubbed clean, like I’ve left all my worries behind—Caden’s arrival, the new wedding venue, the seating chart…even things I’m excited about, like my wedding dress seem to fade as I gaze out toward the open ocean.
There’s a loud pop and I jump. Luke has opened a bottle of champagne, and it fizzes as he pours two flutes and hands one to me.
“To us,” Luke says, and we clink. The bubbles tickle my nose as I drink. “Can you believe we’re getting married in two months?”
“No,” I say honestly. “It feels like we only just met.”
“It does, doesn’t it.” He leans back in his chair. “What a crazy day that was.”
I laugh. “It was crazy for me, that’s for sure. Joni asked me to look after Magnolia’s Petals for her but I don’t know a carnation from a calla lily. I was so scared someone was going to need something and I wouldn’t have the first clue what to do. And then you walked in.”
“In search of the finest bouquet of roses Magnolia Bay had to offer,” Luke says, sweeping his arms out wide. “Little did I know there would be an even more beautiful rose in the store behind the counter.”
“You are so cheesy, you know that?”
Luke shoots me his classic devilish grin. “Good thing you love cheese.”
I laugh again as the yacht comes to a stop. The wind dies down and the sun shines even brighter. I’m about to ask Luke to put some sunscreen on my back when he speaks.
“So…Mom told me that Caden Everton is back in town.”
I feel like I plunged off this very deck into the icy water below. I take half a beat to collect myself.
“Yeah,” I say.
Luke is giving me a sideways glance. “Is that…like…a problem for you? I mean, just because I know you guys were together, so?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “I told you before, we weren’t anything.” It’s exactly what I said to Charlotte. “It was this one-off kind of moment a long time ago. We were really just friends. I saw him at the Screw yesterday, actually. I guess he’s come back to try and solve his mom’s murder.”
Luke raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I wish my stomach would settle down. It’s fluttering so hard it’s making my throat tickle and my jaw itch.
“What, is he like a detective or something now?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think he’s just…upset that her case hasn’t been solved yet. He said he was in Argentina, working at a winery there.”
“You talked to him?” Luke looks unhappy.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “We were friends. So, you know, it makes sense that I’d talk to him.”
Luke is frowning. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve never been friends with any of my exes.”
“He’s not my ex,” I say firmly. “We aren’t even friends anymore—I mean, I haven’t talked to him in years. And I guess he’s only staying in town for the summer. Then he’ll go back to Argentina.”
“Oh,” Luke says, looking mollified. I get up and move to sit beside him on his lounge chair. He wraps his arms around me and I lean up to kiss him. His lips are warm from the sun and when he slips his tongue in my mouth, I feel a little prickle run over my skin.
“I do like this color on you,” he says, running his fingers over the line of my yellow bikini top, tracing the curve of my breast.
Suddenly, the blast of a ship’s horn breaks us apart. Luke scrambles to his feet and lets out a whooping laugh. I sit up to see another yacht, with Luke’s friends, Trip and Chad, waving at us from their own sundeck.
“Bro!” Luke calls.
“Thought you were playing golf, bro!” Trip calls back.
“Nah, that was this morning.”
“Hey Isla!” Trip says. I wave. “You guys need to come party with us at the Crab Shack later!”
Chad pushes Trip on the shoulder. “Bro, you got barred from the Crab Shack last summer.”
“Fuck you, dude, no I didn’t, that was the Oyster Shanty.”
“It was definitely the Crab Shack.”
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my cutoffs and I leave the men to their banter as I go back to my lounge chair to check it.
It’s Dev.
Hey Isla! Any chance you could help me with my booth for Magnolia Day?
Of course! I reply. The Grater Good’s booth is always popular, and Dev will need all the help he can get.
“What’s up?” Luke asks, coming over the sit beside me, pulling me back against his chest.
“Oh, it’s just Dev,” I say.
“Who?”
“Dev Chadha,” I remind him. “He runs the Grater Good. The cheese shop,” I add when Luke looks blank.
“Oh right, the gay Indian dude!” Luke says. I flinch. “He’s cool. What does he want?”
“He wants me to help him with his booth for Magnolia Day,” I say.
“Isn’t that festival, like, a week before our wedding?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“But you’ll be too busy,” Luke says.
I frown. “Luke, it’s the biggest celebration of the year for the town. I’ll make the time.”
He looks about to argue, then swoops my hair back and kisses my shoulder. “Okay,” he says. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“You’ll come, right?” I ask. “I’m sure everyone would love to see you there.”
“Of course,” Luke says, leaving a trail of kisses up my neck. “Anything for my queen.”
This is why I love Luke. He respects what’s important to me.
“So,” I say. “Which seaside bar did Trip get barred from?”
Luke grins. “I think it was both to be honest.”
We laugh.
Later, after a day on the yacht, I return to Magnolia Bay feeling pleasantly exhausted.
I’ve managed to push all thoughts of Caden from my mind and I feel ready to dive into the wedding plans feet first. I’ll ask Joni about flowers tomorrow.
I stop in at the Thorn to see if my parents need anything. Dad is in the front room serving wine and snacks to the guests. My heart sinks. That’s usually Mom’s job. I flash him a quick smile, not wanting to disturb, then head through the kitchen and into my parents’ apartment.
The curtains are closed, and Mom is lying on the couch with her feet propped up and a cold pack resting on her left hand. There’s a damp towel over her eyes, but she moves it when she hears me enter.
“Hi honey,” she says.
“Oh Mom,” I say, hurrying over. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s the heat,” Mom says. “I was all right this morning.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Would you mind swapping out this cold pack for the one in the freezer?”
“Of course.” I take the now-not-so-cold pack and head back to the kitchen. When she places the new one on her knuckles, she lets out a sigh of relief.
“That’s better,” she says with a wan smile. “Thanks.” She adjusts herself a little on the couch. “How was your day?”
“Good. I spent it on the boat with Luke. Oh, and I went over the seating chart with Lucille.” I pick at the frayed hem of my shorts. “She forgot to put Charlotte at the family table.”
“Are you really okay with having the wedding at Everton Estate?” Mom says.
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“You don’t have to do whatever Lucille Richards wants.”
“I know.”
Mom looks at me for a moment. “I heard you ran into Caden at the Crooked Screw yesterday.”
My stomach swoops. “Who told you that?”
“Guess.”
“Mrs. Greerson.”
“The one and only.”
“She wasn’t even there!” I protest.
“You know how news travels in this town. Everyone is in a tizzy over the heir to Everton returning home.”
“Well, I’m not in a tizzy,” I say.
“Good. Would you mind doing me a favor?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say.
“Would you pick up Grace and take her to your place for the night? We’re so busy here, and I’m absolutely useless. I don’t know how we’re going to get her to 4H camp tomorrow. Your father needs to bring the truck to Reggie’s.”
“Again?”
“He keeps putting it off, but it’s making noises now.”
“You guys really need to get a new car,” I say.
“I know, I know. It’s on the list.”
The list they never seem to get around to. The Thorn still needs a new fridge, and the kitchen sink has a tendency to leak. The shutters on the back windows need to be fixed and the floors could use sanding. The banister needs a fresh coat of varnish and some of the hinges on the guestroom doors squeak. But money has been tight—the first year after Marion’s death, this town was hit hard. Not just by grief, but by a frightened community and tourists not wanting to spend their days sipping wine a hundred yards away from a crime scene. Things have picked back up but I’m not surprised Lucille was able to get a deal on using Everton as a venue.
I kiss my mother softly on the forehead. “I’ll bring Grace to camp tomorrow. And I’ll help with the guests this week too. Dad is terrible at small talk.”
Mom chuckles. “This is true.”
“Where is Grace?” I ask.
“I’ll give you one guess.”
I smile. “Furever Friends?”
Mom nods. I say goodbye and walk down the street toward the large colonial house on the corner. Lyle and Rebecca Watson have been taking care of injured or unwanted animals for ages, but a couple of years ago, they finally started a nonprofit and officially became a sanctuary called Furever Friends. They even bought the property behind their house to use as a pasture, since they have a horse now. Piglet. Grace takes care of him. My sister loves animals—they’re easier to understand than humans, she says.
I knock on the door and Rebecca answers.
“She’s out back,” Rebecca says, grinning. Rebecca is a Black woman in her sixties, with a kind, open face and a smile that warms you up like hot apple cider.
I walk through the house to the backdoor, where I’m greeted by about seven happily barking dogs. There’s a goat chewing on grass along the fence line and a deer with a cast on its leg naps in the fading sun. Behind the backyard is the pasture where Piglet and Grace are. Grace used to show jump on Piglet, but he hurt his leg and now they just hang out and eat and talk. Well, Grace does most of the talking. Piglet does most of the eating. I see her feeding him bits of carrot as she tells him whatever comes into that genius brain of hers. I wave to her and she runs her fingers through Piglet’s mane, gives him the last piece of carrot, and starts to head over.
Lyle comes out of the small barn where they house the injured animals. He’s a retired veterinarian, and he’s bottle feeding a guinea pig. “Hi Isla,” he says warmly. “Have you met our new addition?”
“No,” I say, coming over.
“This is Niels Bohr,” he says, showing me the guinea pig.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Grace named him.”
Grace has been really into physics lately.
Lyle chuckles. “I love the names she comes up with. We still have Goat Isla.” He points to the munching goat and I grin. They got Goat Isla when Grace was seven. I found it a high honor that she named the goat after me.
“Hi Isla,” Grace says as she comes over to us. She wears jeans and her 4H tank top, and there’s a smudge of dirt on her nose. “Piglet and I were just talking about the Beer-Lambert law.”
“And what is Piglet’s opinions on the matter?”
Grace shrugs. “He’s less concerned with the linear relationship between absorption and concentration of light and more concerned with the Piglet-Carrot law.”
I laugh. “Is that the law of how many carrots Piglet gets?”
“Exactly. But it’s never as many as he’d like.” Grace grins. “How’s Niels doing?” she asks Lyle.
“Quiz Time,” Lyle says. Grace stands straighter. She loves Quiz Time with Lyle. Probably because she always wins. “What bacteria is causing Niels’ pneumonia?”
“Bordetella bronchiseptica,” Grace says.
“Good. And what antibiotic should we treat him with?”
“Chloramphenicol palmitate,” Grace replies promptly.
“Right again.”
She beams.
“Okay, enough Quiz Time,” I say. “Come on, Grace. You and I are having a sleepover tonight.”
“Really?” Grace says excitedly as we wave goodbye to Lyle.
“Yup,” I say. “Want to order pizza and watch a movie?”
“Yes. Can we watch Interstellar?” Grace asks. “Mom says it’s too grown up for me. But Mr. Angelopoulos says the science is as accurate as he’s seen in a science fiction film.”
“Sure,” I say. “Let me just make sure there’s not any cursing or anything.”
“I don’t care about cursing. Aunt Charlotte curses all the time.”
She’s got me there.
As we drive into town, I can’t help the way my eyes scan every person on the street. My fingers clench around the wheel. Why do I feel this tiny, masochistic wish that I’ll see Caden? I’m probably just acclimating to the fact that he’s in town again.
“Isla,” Grace says solemnly.
“Hm?”
“Why are you driving so slowly?”
I glance at the speedometer. “I’m not,” I insist.
“Are you okay?”
“What? Of course I’m okay,” I say, pressing the gas pedal. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m totally fine.”
Grace scratches her nose and studies me with her serious brown eyes. “The pitch of your voice and the way you jumped would indicate otherwise.”
“My voice is normal,” I say sternly.
“Is it because Caden is back?”
“No,” I say. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t care that he’s back.”
I pull into the little lot behind Magnolia’s Petals. I park the car and Grace puts her small hand on my shoulder, giving me a quick DSS.
“It’s okay to not be okay,” she says. “You were really sad when he left.”
My heart shudders. “I know,” I say quietly.
“Being in love seems hard,” Grace observed.
“I’m not in love with Caden,” I point out.
“I know,” she says. “You’re getting married, which means you’re in love with Luke.”
“That’s right,” I say. “I am. I am in love with Luke.”
I shouldn’t have said it twice. Grace is giving me one of her solemn looks again.
“Come on,” I say, opening the car door. “It’s pizza and Interstellar time.”