Chapter 4
Levi showed up around four the next afternoon.
Abby heard his truck pull into the driveway and felt her stomach tighten.
She finally texted him back that morning.
He asked if they could talk, and she decided her place gave her the upper hand.
She would ask him to leave if she didn’t like where things were going.
She watched him through the window as he got out and walked toward the front door. He looked nervous. Or maybe she was just projecting.
The doorbell rang.
She took a breath and opened the door.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi."
They stood there for a beat too long, neither quite knowing how to navigate this version of themselves. The easy comfort from before was gone, replaced by something uncomfortable. She wondered if they would ever get to go back to the way things were.
She stepped aside. “Come in.”
He followed her through the house. She'd put together a charcuterie board earlier—cheese, crackers, grapes, and salami—more to give her hands something to do than because she was actually hungry. The bottle of white wine was already open, two glasses waiting on the counter.
"Want to sit on the porch?" she asked. "The crew left about an hour ago. It's quiet."
"Sure."
She carried the board, and he took the wine and glasses. They settled into the chairs facing the torn-up pool area.
Abby poured wine for both of them and set the bottle on the small table between their chairs. Levi took a sip, then set his glass down and looked at her.
"I'm sorry," he said, "for my behavior at dinner and for pulling away like that."
She picked up a cracker and broke it in half without eating it. "You said you needed time to think."
"I did. I do." He ran a hand through his hair. "The money didn't scare me off. I need you to know that."
She looked at him. Waited. She was not going to make him feel more comfortable. She was still a little angry about the way he handled things. He wasn’t going to get a free pass. She was done handing out free passes.
"It was the secret," he continued. "The fact that you'd been carrying this huge thing around and didn't tell me. That's what got in my head."
"Okay."
"I've been married twice," he said. "Both times, the thing that ended it wasn't some big fight or dramatic moment.
It was a slow accumulation of things we didn't tell each other.
Little truths we held back because it felt easier or safer or whatever excuse we used.
And by the time either of us noticed, there was this canyon between us made up of all those withheld truths. "
He picked up his wine glass and set it down again without drinking.
"When you told me about the lottery, that's what I heard. Not the money, but the keeping it from me. And I needed a couple of days to figure out if this was that. If this was the beginning of the same pattern."
Abby understood—somewhat. She could see it from his perspective now and could trace the logic of his reaction back to something that made sense.
"It wasn't manipulation," she said quietly. "Keeping the lottery secret. It was self-protection."
"I know."
"Do you? Because money changes how people see me.
It changes what they want from me and what they think I owe them.
My ex-husband tried to claim half of it even though we were separated.
People I barely knew suddenly wanted to be my best friend, and I just—" She stopped, collecting her thoughts.
"I needed to know you liked me first before the money became part of the equation. "
Levi nodded slowly. "I get that."
"I wasn't trying to deceive you. I was trying to protect myself. I would never discuss money with someone I don’t really know. But considering the amount of money and where I hoped things were going, I thought it was an important part of my story."
"I understand. I do." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "And I'm sorry I made you feel like you'd done something wrong by being careful."
"You didn't make me feel that way. You just got quiet, and I filled in the blanks."
"With the worst possible scenario."
"Kind of my specialty." She managed a small smile.
He smiled back. The tension between them eased another notch.
Abby picked up a piece of cheese and actually ate it this time. The wine was good, crisp, and cold.
“The money is my ticket to a life I never imagined having,” she said. “It’s not who I am, but I didn’t want you to see my spending sprees and start to get suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“I don’t work. I know I don’t act or look like someone who came from money.
So, you were probably thinking I was up to something nefarious.
I would think the same thing if I were you.
I just thought it would be better to clear that up before things went any further.
If you accused me of being a drug dealer, I would probably be offended, and things would end. ”
He laughed. “Understandable. And I would definitely start to wonder.”
"So where does that leave us?" she asked.
"I don't know." He was honest about it at least. "I like you. A lot. But I'm also scared of repeating the same mistakes I've made before."
"Me too, different mistakes, but the same fear."
"Yeah."
“I’m not giving a lot of thought to what I need to do to make someone else feel better about being my friend or anything else. I’m living for me.”
"I'm not asking you to."
"Good. The money is part of my life now. It's not going anywhere, and I'm not going to apologize for it, hide it, or feel guilty about it."
"I wouldn't want you to." He picked up his wine and took a long drink. "I just need to know that we're being honest with each other. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."
"I can do that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She meant it. "But you have to understand that honesty doesn't always mean immediate disclosure. Sometimes it means waiting until I feel safe enough to share something."
He considered that. "Fair enough."
"And you have to tell me when something's bothering you instead of just going quiet and making me guess."
"Also fair."
They looked at each other. The awkwardness was still there, but it felt manageable now.
Like something they could work through instead of something that would crush them.
It wasn’t a declaration or a promise. They could work up to that.
Neither of them was speeding toward a serious relationship, and that’s what made him so easy to be around.
"I missed you," Levi said quietly. "These past few days."
"I missed you, too."
He reached across the space between their chairs and took her hand.
They weren't perfect. They weren't even close to having everything figured out. But they were okay. That felt like enough for now.
They finished the wine and most of the charcuterie board as the sun set. The conversation shifted to easier topics—his next shift at the station, her trip to Cayo Costa with Meg, and the progress on the pool. By the time he stood to leave, the worst of the tension had dissolved.
At the door, he turned back to her.
"Thank you," he said. "For not telling me to pound sand after I did that. I’m a little embarrassed by my reaction.”
"It’s fine. Thank you for coming over."
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then he was gone, his truck backing out of the driveway and disappearing down the street.
Abby closed the door and leaned against it. She felt wrung out but lighter somehow. Like they'd cleared a hurdle she hadn't been sure they could clear.
She carried the dishes to the kitchen and washed them by hand instead of loading the dishwasher. When everything was clean and put away, she remembered the heron tile on her counter.
She picked it up and carried it to the back door. There was already a small nail in the wall beside the frame, probably from a previous decoration. She hung the tile there, adjusting it until it was straight.
Gerald's painted likeness stared back at her. Whoever had made it had done beautiful work. The detail in the feathers alone must have taken hours.
"Thank you, Ghost," she said to the empty porch.
Fourth of July was a week away. She'd signed up to help with the face painting booth and agreed to bring cookies for the pancake breakfast. The island was starting to feel like home.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Dana's number.
Abby: Fourth of July is next week. Any chance you and Jim could come visit? I have plenty of space.
The response came a few minutes later.
Dana: I wish we could. Jim's got that work thing in Chicago. Can't get out of it. Rain check?
Abby: Of course. No worries.
Dana: I'm sorry. I really wanted to see your place.
Abby: Soon. Promise.
She set the phone down, feeling the familiar pang of disappointment.
She understood—Dana had her own life, her own obligations—but it still stung a little.
She'd wanted her sister to see what she'd built here.
Wanted her to meet Meg, see the pool taking shape, and understand why Abby had chosen this place.
But that could wait. It would have to.
She turned off the porch light and walked through the house, checking the locks out of habit. At the front door, she paused, then opened it and looked out at the porch.
No ribbon. No tile. No mysterious gift waiting for her.
She didn't know why that felt sad. The Ghost of Sanibel didn't owe her anything. One gift was more than most people got. But she'd started to look forward to the possibility of finding something. The surprise of it. The reminder that someone out there noticed her.
She closed the door and locked it.
Tomorrow, the pool crew would be back. The noise would start again, and she’d be one step closer to her backyard oasis.