An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) Page 33

  Maggie laughed self-consciously. “Yes, I looked in the mirror, but I didn’t see . . .”

  “Didn’t see what?” he asked softly.

  “Didn’t see what you think you see.”

  “Maybe you can call and get an appointment with Dr. Almquist. Get your eyes checked. You are beautiful. Maybe you just need to be reminded a little more frequently.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Hey, what is it?”

  She turned her head to the window and looked out to avoid his gaze. “I’m almost sixty. If I didn’t color my hair, there’d be lots of gray on this head. My boobs are starting to move south, and I have cellulite on my thighs. I don’t feel sexy.”

  “What’s cellulite actually look like, anyway?” he asked. “I’ve heard the term, and I know it’s something women seem to worry about, but I don’t know what it looks like.”

  “Think of an orange peel. All those little tiny puckers.” Maggie was sorry she’d brought it up. “If you saw my thighs, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

  “Oranges are my favorite fruit. And for the record, I would love to see your thighs again. As I recall, you had the best legs in the entire state of Massachusetts.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Brett laughed. “Come on, Mags. For one thing, you’re not ‘almost sixty’—you’re fifty-eight and will be for another few months. But even so, what’s the big deal? It’s a number. You look at least ten years younger. Fifteen years younger when you smile.” He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. “I don’t care if you’re gray under all that blonde. I don’t even care if you’re blonde. We all have moving parts that are starting to slide just a bit. No big deal. And I repeat: you always had great legs, and you’re still beautiful. And still very, very sexy. So what are you worried about?”

  It took her a moment to pull her thoughts together. “I guess . . . it’s just the last time we were together, I was younger . . .”

  “So was I, Maggie. We’ve both aged.”

  “I don’t think of you that way.”

  “Then you should understand when I say I don’t think about you that way, either. You’ll always be my prom queen, Mags. No matter how old you are, how gray your hair is, or how far your boobs slip.”

  Finally, she laughed.

  “You’ll always be the love of my life, whether you ever love me again or not.” He’d lost the tease in his voice, and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm.

  She tried to ignore the sudden racing of her heart. “What woman could resist a man who says things like that?”

  “I’m hoping you can’t when I make my big move.” He put the car in drive and eased back onto the highway. “That won’t be for a while, though, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” She felt lighter, as the fear she hadn’t known she harbored—fear of being compared to her younger self—began to float away in the wake of his reassurance.

  “It’s not complicated. You need to learn to trust me, and I need to know if you could love me again.” He put his turn signal on and waited for traffic to pass before pulling into the parking lot. “I wanted to get all that out of the way so we can just enjoy each other’s company and not worry so much about what comes next. We’re headed in the right direction, Mags. Let’s take our time getting there, just let it unfold as it’s meant to.”

  How he’d been able to intuitively tap into her insecurities was a mystery. In the past, Brett had rarely inquired about her feelings—other than how she felt about him—and almost never acknowledged his own. This older version was more sensitive than his younger self, more self-aware in the best sense. This new one had been totally unexpected, and she liked it.

  “So. We’re here. Pretty setting, isn’t it? Great view of the bay.” He’d parked at the far end of the lot near a narrow stretch of beach. The day had been mild, the wind light enough to move the sailboats lazily across the water.

  “Very.”

  He reached over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “So we’re good?”

  Maggie nodded. “We’re good.”

  The restaurant was beautiful, the service attentive, and the food proved to be out of this world.

  “Why did you decide to become a police officer?” Maggie asked over their shared dessert, an enormous slice of chocolate cake that the waitress served with two forks. “I don’t remember you ever expressing an interest in law enforcement.”

  “I’d never given it a thought. I guess in my testosterone-saturated mind, I thought I’d play football until I was ninety or so, and then I’d just die. I never had a backup plan, never thought I’d need one.” His shoulders slumped just a little. “Until of course I did. Then all of a sudden, I was out of a job. I had no idea what to do with myself. I was in California, living alone in a cottage on the beach. As soon as I got traded, Beth left me and took Chloe with her.” He paused to take a drink from the beer he’d ordered with his scallops. “I met some guys who hung around the beach, taught me how to surf. That’s when I met Holly.”

  “Love at first sight?”

  “No. Holly was beautiful and young, and I felt old and broken. My ego was shattered, and she built it back up.” He paused, as if debating what to say next. “Okay, here’s the thing. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d never loved anyone but you. When you left, I felt if you didn’t love me—after all we’d been through—that must mean I wasn’t worthy of being loved. So when someone said they loved me, I figured, there—see, someone does love me. I can’t be that bad if this nice woman loves me. And that’s how I ended up married three times.”

  He said it lightly, but Maggie could see the toll it took for him to make that admission.

  “I’m so sorry, Brett. I know it sounds trite to say it wasn’t you, it was me, but that’s how it was. I couldn’t stay with you when I was having problems living with myself.”

  “And if I hadn’t been so much of a jerk, so focused on myself, I would have understood that. So maybe we should accept the fact we both made mistakes.”

  Maggie nodded thoughtfully.

  “Okay. So. Why I’m a cop. There was a guy who was in the California Highway Patrol who used to windsurf at Holly’s place. He was into the whole law enforcement thing, serving the public good and all that. The more I got to know him, the more we talked, the more I realized nothing I ever did in my whole life was as important as what he did every day. Then Holly and I broke up, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then I found out my dad was dying, and I came home, figuring I’d just stay till the end.” He picked up the spoon next to his plate and tapped it softly on the tablecloth. “Do you remember Chief Hawthorne?”

  “Sure. He was the chief of police when we were growing up.”

  “He was a good friend of my dad’s, and he visited every week until my dad passed away. He told me they had a vacancy on the force, hadn’t been able to fill it. Suggested that I apply to the police academy. I think it had been in the back of my mind for some time, so when he brought it up, I thought it was a sign. And that’s how I ended up where I am. Patrol officer. Detective. Then chief when the old chief retired.” There was a touch of pride in his voice that made her smile.

  “And you like it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I love it. I loved playing football, but don’t think it’s sour grapes when I say I love being a small-town cop. Something inside me settled the day a badge was pinned on my chest.”

  She’d seen him in town, talking to the older residents who needed reassurance in their safety as well as the young kids who were inching their way toward trouble. It was such a natural fit for him, and it was obvious he took great pleasure in serving his community.

  “I’m glad you found something that makes you happy. The town is lucky to have you.”

  “And what about you? What makes you happy?”

  “My family, of course. Other than that . . .” She shrugged. “I guess I’m still figuring that out.”
/>   “You were a teacher, right?”

  “I was. And I suppose I could become certified in Massachusetts and teach, or substitute if I couldn’t find something full time. But right now, I don’t feel pressured to make any decisions about my future. I want to enjoy the summer with my kids and my granddaughter. Grandchildren,” she corrected herself. “And I want to help Liddy get her bookstore spruced up. I’m lucky Art left me well off. He had a lot of life insurance, and . . . oh, I sold his law firm.”

  She shared the story of Grace’s cheating husband that led her to start TheLast2No and to Grace’s eventual outing as the spurned wife who took to the internet and invited other women similarly situated to join her and bash their unfaithful husbands.

  “That was actually a pretty damned clever thing for her to do. Innovative. It’s a shame she had to abandon it,” Brett said. “I can see where it could be helpful to have a judgment-free place to express your anger. It would sure go a long way to cutting down the number of domestic calls we get if people felt they had a safe place to vent.”

  “That’s pretty much what Natalie said. Unfortunately, few in Philadelphia saw it that way. Grace was ridiculed and practically run out of the city.”

  “And that’s why you decided to sell the law firm and move back to Wyndham Beach?”

  “One of the reasons,” she conceded.

  “Going to tell me what the others were?”

  She smiled at him over the rim of her wineglass. “Not tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the June solstice, summer was already well established in Wyndham Beach. Maggie spent two weeks busily preparing for the party on the Fourth. She took stock of the patio furniture and found seating was sorely lacking. She drove to the hardware store, because she’d seen their ad for outside chairs in the local paper.

  White-haired Carl Lattimore was behind the counter chatting with a customer when Maggie walked in. He turned his attention to her when he was free.

  “Hi. Can I help you find something?” he asked her.

  “I saw your ad for the folding chairs, and I wanted to see what you have in stock,” she told him.

  “Right over here’s what we have left.” He pointed to a wall display. “If there’s something in particular you’re looking for, I can maybe special order it. Can’t guarantee the sale price, though, but I can see what I can do.”

  “I like these turquoise ones. Do you have maybe half a dozen of these?” She was drawn to the color, which looked tropical to Maggie. With maybe some coral table accents, the backyard could look almost tropical on the Fourth. Not exactly red, white, and blue, but she liked the idea.

  “I don’t think so, but I can check. I know I have more of the navy, though, Miss . . .”

  “It’s Maggie. Maggie Flynn.”

  “Oh. I heard about you,” he said.

  Uh-oh. “You did?” She hated to ask but felt obligated to.

  “Sure. You’re Liddy’s friend. She told me you were helping her out at the bookshop. Going to fix up the backyard for her, right?” Before she could respond, he went on. “I know it’s in a sorry state, but between running this place, and my wife being sick, and my dad’s health, well, you know how it goes.”

  “I do totally understand. I had to let some things go when my husband was ill.” Like myself. “So no apologies necessary. I’m happy to be able to help Liddy any way I can. We’ve been friends forever.”

  “Yeah, I heard you were from here. Ellen Lloyd’s girl, right? I knew Ellen for years. Lovely woman.”

  “She was. Thank you.”

  “And you bought Ellen’s place, I heard. Must be nice to be back in your family home. Grew up in that house, did you?”

  “I did. And so did my mother. And it’s wonderful to be back.”

  “We’re glad to have you, Maggie. Now let me see if I can locate some chairs for you . . .”

  Carl disappeared through a doorway.

  Maggie wandered through the store while she waited for Carl. She turned a corner and bumped into a woman she recognized but couldn’t remember her name.

  “Maggie?” The woman slipped off her sunglasses. She must have realized Maggie was drawing a blank, because she introduced herself. “I’m Marian Coster. Emma’s assistant at the art center.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Emma had mentioned she had a part-time assistant. Maggie shook the woman’s hand.

  “I saw you at the opening of Jessie Bryant’s show. I’ve been working with Emma since she opened the center, but I’m taking the next few weeks off. My daughter just took over the florist shop on Locust Lane—Jack Schuster retired, you know—and she’s in over her head, so I told her I’d give her a hand. Emma’s very understanding, and she offered to let me come back part-time again if I want. After we get things straightened out at the shop.”

  “Well, I wish your daughter all the success. The town definitely needs a florist. I’ll stop over one day.”

  “We’ll be having a grand opening right before the Fourth. Please come. Joanna—my daughter—is hoping to have some centerpieces ready for the holiday.”

  “I’ll definitely be there.”

  “Oh, there you are, Maggie.” Carl appeared around the corner. “Be with you in a minute, Marian.”

  “No rush. I’ll just wander a bit.” Marian turned to Maggie. “I’ll make sure you know when the shop opens.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Maggie smiled, then looked over the chairs Carl carried.

  “No more of the turquoise. I can order those, but they won’t be here for four weeks, I’m afraid. I have lots of the navy, though. And the red’s been popular this year as well.”

  Maggie looked over the available color selections and went with the red, which had that sort of faded Nantucket vibe she liked, so in her mind, the color scheme was once again red, white, and blue. Carl offered to have one of his guys deliver the chairs, and she readily agreed.

  Before she left, she found a badminton set and a firepit, and asked Carl to have those delivered as well, along with some tiki torches and two big red-and-white-striped planters she could fill with flowers for the front porch. At checkout, she noticed a bin of blue-and-white-striped crepe paper streamers, so she bought some of those to wrap around the front porch railings.

  Next year—window boxes. Mr. and Mrs. Gribbin would have been proud.

  The Fourth of July promised to be a hot one, and humidity was rising along with the heat. Not the best weather for all-day outside activities, but you took what you got in July. With luck, the wind would shift and blow ashore from the harbor, and by afternoon, the air would be bearable if not pleasant. Maggie woke early and dressed in holiday-appropriate garb of a white denim skirt, a navy-and-white-striped T-shirt, and red sandals. She’d always loved the Fourth of July celebrations in Wyndham Beach for their winning combination of patriotism and the showing off of local pride.

  But this year was unlike any other holiday. Today all the threads of her life were coming together, and she prayed the eventual result would be seamless and beautiful. She planned an early but simple breakfast for her immediate crew—fruit and scrambled eggs—and put on a pot of coffee. The preparations made, she stepped out to the patio, a mug of coffee in hand, and eased herself into a comfy chair while she waited for her daughters to join her. She sat back and closed her eyes and took a deep breath of air heavy with salt from the harbor and floral from her garden, an odd but surprisingly pleasant combination.

  She was tempted to pinch herself, so unlikely would a day like today have been even one year ago. Today everyone who meant the most to her would be under her roof. She still wasn’t certain what the outcome would be, but she knew the time had come. Hopefully everyone would find a way to get along.

  Last week, she and Brett had met Joe and his two children for dinner. Lulu had enchanted them both. She was a fairy child, a garden sprite with almost ethereal beauty with a shy smile. Jamey had been tougher, but Brett had won him over with tales of his football
days as well as his years on the police force. That Brett had played multiple sports just like Joe and Jamey had won him big points. Maggie, not so much, but she was okay with that. After all, it had been their first meeting, and Joe had assured her in time Jamey would be eating out of her hand. She hoped he was right.

  Alexis, Brett’s fourteen-year-old California-raised daughter, had arrived the previous week. Maggie’d met up with them when she’d taken Daisy to the ice-cream shop in town, and Alexis had taken to Daisy immediately and had offered to babysit anytime.

  Grace questioned the wisdom of tossing everyone together all at once, but Maggie had stood firm in her belief it was best to simply dive in. Would time make the journey easier to take? Maggie doubted it. The situation was what it was, and it wasn’t going to change. Why put it off and miss out on whatever time they all might have together? Maggie knew all too well tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone.

  Natalie hadn’t waited to take that dive—earlier in the week she’d met Joe for dinner and had come home singing his praises. She couldn’t wait to report to Grace how wonderful he was, that he was exactly the way she’d pictured him, that they’d had a great time.

  “I felt like I’d known him my whole life,” Natalie’d said. “He’s the brother I always wanted. You’re going to love him, Gracie. I promise.”

  Maggie mentally marked an imaginary scoreboard: one down, one to go.

  The back door opened, and Grace wandered out, coffee mug in hand, followed by Natalie and an even-chattier-than-usual Daisy, who couldn’t wait for all their guests and the parade and rides on the carousel. She wasn’t really sure what a carousel was, but she was excited about it all the same because the grown-ups seemed to be. After a quick breakfast, there was a sort of dead silence while they all watched the clock, waiting for their guests to arrive.

  “Did you have enough breakfast?” Maggie asked. “I can go in and . . .”