RIGHT. BECAUSE HERE THEY were, Hank lamented—he and Maddie, sitting innocently and fully clothed, opposite each other at the nasty little kitchen table. After unloading the groceries he had out in his SUV, he’d built a fire and had been cheered when Maddie had insisted on working side by side with him to whip up a damned fine meal of canned chili and saltine crackers. A suitable bottle of red wine rounded out their meal. Done eating now, Hank felt they were a bit more relaxed with each other, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Maddie,” he said, eyeing her creamy-appearing neck and wondering idly what it would be like to kiss her there. “Do golden retrievers like chili? There’s still some left in the pot.”
Maddie raised a finely arched eyebrow. “I imagine golden retrievers love chili. But should you give her any is a whole other question.”
“I’m guessing the answer to that would be no.”
“Exactly. I haven’t been the proud owner of a dog for long, but I don’t think it takes much imagination to realize the, uh, end result. So if you give that dog as much as one taste of chili, I’ll leave her here until the storm passes.” She grinned brightly, meaningfully. “And I don’t mean the one outside.”
Hank grimaced. “Yikes.”
They both looked at the dog sitting beside the table. Beamer looked from one to the other of them, a what-did-I-do expression on her face. Hank’s chuckle joined Maddie’s. “So what can we give her to eat?”
“Nothing now. She’s terrible to beg. I’ll feed her when I get home.”
Hank nodded, leaning over to pat the dog’s head and ruffle her silky ears. “Sorry, girl. I’ve been overruled.” Hank sought Maddie’s gaze, but got her profile as she, like a mother whose child had just embarrassed her, watched the disgruntled dog pad dejectedly across the room and flop again on the disreputable couch. Maddie then swung her gaze his way—and caught him staring. Hank couldn’t for the life of him look away or disguise his want for her. “I’m glad Beamer jumped ship and got you out here.”
Maddie’s blue eyes widened. “Because it saved you another trip into town?”
“Hardly. You know what I mean.”
Her face colored a bright pink. “I do.” She seemed to be having difficulty meeting his direct and hungry stare. “And so am I. Glad, I mean. Although I could have done without the wind and the rain.”
“Yeah. It is pretty dramatic.” She had Hank’s heart beating now. It was so damned obvious that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was about one second, he knew, from shoving this table and everything on it out of his way and making a grab for her. “Well,” he added, “at least you got some of my home-cooked canned chili. Not too many people can say that. And it was nice to see a welcoming face when I got here, even if it was a furry one.”
Her chuckle was that of amused insult. “You mean the dog, right?”
“No, I meant you,” Hank countered, very seriously. “You really do need to shave, Maddie.” Then he chuckled. “Of course I meant the dog. But this is a big breakthrough for us, you know. Meaning I got through a bottle of wine with you without me wearing any of it.”
“Hmm. I must be slipping.” She mimicked his posture by sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “You know, you said something earlier that keeps sticking in my mind.”
“Score one for me.”
“No, seriously. About your mother. I asked you where she was. And you said I didn’t want to know. Guess what? I do.”
Hank very soberly shook his head. “Oh, but you don’t. Trust me.”
“Oh, but I do.”
He shrugged his defeat. “All right. You’ll know soon enough anyway.” He settled into his chair and his story. “Lady Lillian—that’s my mother—hated the accommodations offered in Hanscomb Harbor.” Maddie made a yikes face. Hank nodded his agreement. “Exactly. Who’s surprised? Her idea of roughing it is not having all-night room service in a five-star hotel.”
“Neither of which we have here.”
“Actually, you do.”
“We do? Where? At one of the bed-and-breakfasts?”
“Sort of.”
Maddie raised her eyebrows. “Tell me, or I’ll throw my napkin at you.”
“Now I’m scared. She’s staying with Celeste.”
Maddie’s eyes slowly widened as her mouth opened. She ducked her head the slightest bit and looked out at him from under her raised eyebrows. “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.”
“I wish I was. She’s staying with Celeste.”
Maddie shook her head disbelievingly. “How in God’s name did this happen?”
“By accident.”
“They say the same thing about nuclear mishaps.”
“Yes, they do. Well, we’d tried every bed-and-breakfast. No dice. Turned her nose up at them. And she wouldn’t even get out of the car at the Harbor Inn Motel. So I didn’t dare bring her out here.”
“Smart man.”
Hank nodded. “I ended up—and you’re not going to believe this—literally driving through the residential streets while she checked out the houses and passed judgment on them.”
Maddie’s eyes were now perfectly rounded. “Are you serious? She was just going to pick one out and go tell the owners she was here to stay?”
“Why do you think I call her Lady Lillian? She’s like some queen from medieval times who just shows up and has to be entertained or else.”
“My God. And she ended up with Celeste how?”
“Celeste didn’t tell you she had a house guest?”
“No. When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“Oh. Okay. No wonder. I haven’t talked to her. I gave her yesterday off since she covered for me on—” And there it was. Hank remained silent. Maddie averted her gaze, no doubt not wanting to say “Friday,” the day she’d come back here, with no explanation to him, instead of staying in the city where he was. Suddenly animated and too cheerful and matter-of-fact, she met his eyes. “Anyway, I had Fran coming in Saturday. So I didn’t need the help. And I haven’t talked to Celeste.” She frowned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, what were you saying?”
Hank took pity on her. “I was saying there I was with my mother, on what I now know is the street where Celeste lives.” Maddie nodded avidly that she was listening. “And Lady Lillian says, ‘Stop here,’ in front of this big house. After a day of this and driving all around, believe me, I stopped. She turns to me and says, ‘I like this one.’”
“Hank, is your entire family insane?”
“Yes.”
Maddie went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And your mother? She has no clue how the real world works, does she?”
“None. But if you have enough money, Maddie, you can be crazy. Yet it’s called ‘eccentric’ and everyone indulges you.”
Maddie nodded along with his explanation. “I see. So you knock on Celeste’s door and … what?”
“She answers it. And I just about die.”
“You may yet,” Maddie assured him. “So you see it’s her and, I guess, tell her what’s going on. And she says…?”
“‘Come in.’”
“Celeste? McNeer? Celeste McNeer? The one I know? The tiny, white-haired, foul-mouthed woman who works for me? She just says ‘Come in’ and is willing to indulge your mother? Just like that?”
“Close. But yeah, pretty much like that.”
“They’ll kill each other.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. They were having high tea when I left and working out the details of who gets the bathroom when.”
“That’s it.” Maddie covered her face with her hands. “My name is Alice and I’ve gone down the rabbit hole. That’s the only explanation that makes sense here, Hank.” She flopped her hands onto her lap. “The only one.”
He grinned at her. “I know. It’s nuts, isn’t it?”
“‘Nuts’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. And you? What were you thinking, leaving her there?”
“I was thinking my work here is done and—”
“No, seriously. What do you think is going to happen when they get around to talking about me? Celeste is my staunchest defender, Hank. You saw how she behaved that day you first came to my shop after your grandfather died.”
Hank winced with guilt. “I remember. And I don’t think I’ve apologized enough for my behavior that day, Maddie.”
“Oh, forget that,” she said dismissively, a hand held up as if to ward off further apologies from him. “That’s nothing compared to how your mother thinks of me. What did she say about me in New York?”
Hank was not about to repeat his mother’s description of Maddie. Something about a blond, twenty-pound, twelve-year-old in charge of their fortune. “She said you were pretty.”
“Very diplomatic. But answer something else for me. When, and how, did you decide I wasn’t a gold digger?” She closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead. “I am beginning to hate that word.”
“I don’t blame you.” Hank waited until Maddie looked up at him. “I got over it by knowing you, Maddie. Sure, when I first saw you, I thought I knew what was up.”
“Why is that? Do I look like some kind of opportunist, Hank? I mean cheap? On the make? Overblown? That’s how I picture someone you’d describe as a gold digger.”
“Come on, you don’t look like that at all. You’re a young, beautiful blonde. But that’s all some people need to see.” Hank’s face warmed as he remembered he had been one of those rush-to-judgment people. “And I couldn’t have been more wrong, Maddie. All I had to do is get to know you better. Spend some time with you.”
She raised an eyebrow, giving herself an arch look. “And ask people about me?”
He grinned. “I didn’t have to. It seemed that everyone I met voluntarily sang your praises to me.”
Now it was Maddie’s turn to color. “Great. This town, I swear.” She shook her head. “They love me. What can I say? It’s a curse, being a nice woman.”
Smiling, Hank indulgently watched her pick up her spoon and fiddle with it, dragging it idly through the remains of her chili. She again focused on him, the deep blueness of her eyes enough to arrest his attention. He always seemed to forget how blue they were. And how changeable. Maybe their color reflected her mood or what she wore. “So do you think your mother will come to the same conclusion about me that you did, Hank?”
This was starting to get uncomfortable. Hank could hardly defend his mother’s behavior or her reason for coming here, but he also felt loyal to her. And to Maddie. Yet he feared she was right. His mother and Celeste would, no doubt, end up having words or worse if he didn’t get a grip on this situation. Hank rubbed a hand over his face. Great. Suddenly, he was a man caught among a bunch of warring women. Four to be exact. Maddie. Celeste. His mother. Beamer. A bunch. A chick fight waiting to happen.
“Wow, you’re quiet. That bad, huh?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. If there had been any way I could have stopped her from coming here, Maddie, I would have. I want you to know that. I used the whole trip here to tell her just how wrong she is about you. But she thinks she’s protecting her baby boy.”
Maddie sat up straight. “What? Now she thinks I have designs on you?”
Did she have to look so surprised and as if the whole idea were distasteful? Hank’s ego went down in flames. This was great. His careless words would probably make her standoffish and even more reserved with him. Damn, damn, damn. But stuck now, he said, “She thinks—wrongly—that I’m next in line. Or in your sights.”
Maddie’s frown was that of insult taken. “Just grand. And you told her…?”
“That she’s wrong about you. But she insists on seeing for herself. And there really isn’t anything I can do to stop her. She’s an adult and can go where she wants. But the more I think about it, Maddie, probably the best place in Hanscomb Harbor for her to be is with Celeste. She’ll certainly keep a lid on my mother’s activities.”
“If Celeste doesn’t kill her first.”
Hank spread his hands wide. “Hey, if she does, problem solved.”
Tsking her outrage, Maddie leaned over the table to swat at him. She missed. “Stop that. That’s terrible.” She then sat back and gestured widely. “So, okay, how do you and I behave now? I mean, if she even sees us together, she’ll think there’s something going on between us.”
“Would that be so awful?” Hank said quietly.
“Yes, it would,” Maddie said instantly, to Hank’s disappointment.
“Why?”
“With her money, she could use it to do a lot of damage here if she so chose. And the press is starting to show up. All your mother would have to do, to ruin my reputation, is talk to them.”
Hank considered that and came up with a valid answer. “On the bright side, if you get some tabloid coverage, you wouldn’t ever again have to worry about everyone thinking you’re a nice woman.”
Whoa. Her narrowed eyes said she didn’t like that idea. “Is that supposed to be funny? Right now—with this crazy will and the news picking up on something this quirky—is the very time I need to be thought of as a nice woman.”
“I know. I was only teasing. But, okay, what do you want to do about this crisis?”
Clearly disgruntled, she flapped her hands at him. “I don’t know. We need to come up with something good, though.”
Hank’s hormones woke up and had him grinning. We? He loved the idea of “we.” It was beginning to dawn on him too just how good a thing his mother’s presence in Hanscomb Harbor could be. After all, he and Maddie would be forced to deal with her together. His mood brightened. The next six weeks were certainly shaping up not to be boring. And for once the light at the end of this tunnel having to do with Maddie might not be an oncoming train.
“What’s so funny? I think we have a disaster on our hands, Hank.”
“Not if we work together. Like we did at the stockholders’ meeting. By the way, you were brilliant.”
“Of course I was. You were sitting right there and whispering all the answers into my ear. And speaking of by the ways, congratulations on your business deal. I’m happy for you.”
Hank smiled. “Thanks for letting it happen.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Jim Thornton.”
“Oh, believe me, I did. I sent him and Mary the biggest basket of flowers ever seen on earth.”
Maddie made a face as if she were hurt. “I didn’t get any flowers.”
“You got chili—the gift that keeps on giving.” Maddie’s roll of her eyes had Hank chuckling. “But I’m just glad I have a good executive board to turn things over to for the next six weeks.”
“That’s got to be reassuring. I liked Hope Chesswell. She seemed very capable.”
Hank nodded his agreement and was secretly pleased with Maddie’s assessment. “She is. That’s why I made her my senior vice president.”
He was further pleased to realize that he liked having Maddie to talk shop with. Normally he didn’t like anybody in his business, so he didn’t share it with anyone. But Maddie, thanks to his grandfather’s will, already knew it and was involved. Or had been thrown into it, really. And yet she’d performed brilliantly at the meeting last Friday, despite her public-speaking fears. She’d also apparently overcome her fear of dogs. Hank cocked his head at an assessing angle. Maddie Copeland was a brave and interesting woman.
“Anyway,” she said, giving the impression of being uncomfortable under his stare. “Your mother and Celeste. What do we do? Besides duck and run.”
“Those are both good options.” Hank rubbed his chin and stared at a point just to Maddie’s left as he tried to reason out a course of action. “Well, I know my mother. And you know Celeste. What’s your best guess?”
“I asked you first.”
“All right.” He shrugged. “I say we do nothing and it will work itself out.”
Maddie eyed him levelly. “No doubt the very same plan offered by the city council of Pompeii a long time ago, Hank.”
“You’re probably right.” Warming to his subject now, Hank moved his bowl to one side and crossed his arms on the tabletop. “Look, we both know the truth here. You’re not a gold digger. And you’re not out to take anything away from the Madisons.”
“Thank you for that.” Maddie nodded regally, causing a cascade of her golden hair to fall forward over her shoulder.
“Your hair is so beautiful.” Hank stopped, hearing the words floating on the air between them. Had he really said that out loud?
Apparently he had, because Maddie stopped in the act of tucking the stray lock behind her ear and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Hank found her response endearing. He openly stared at the beautiful sight she made, even sitting here in this ratty cabin. She met his gaze, and the air crackled with unspoken desire. All Hank could think was there was a bed in the same room with them. Then reality set in, telling him there was also a big friendly dog here. And the subject of Celeste and his mother. That did it. Effective birth control. Thoughts of one’s mother. Hank’s desire level shriveled, but not so quickly as did a certain part of his anatomy. Physically uncomfortable now, he cleared his throat and shifted about in his chair.
With Maddie suddenly looking everywhere but at him, Hank felt it his duty to speak first. “My mother is really no threat, Maddie. If I thought she was, if I thought she was really going to cause some serious trouble for you, I’d put a stop to it, believe me. In a heartbeat. But I’ve dealt with her all my life, so I know how she is. She’s here to make sure I’m okay. Nothing more. And I am. End of concern.”
“I appreciate that, Hank. I really do. But I just wish I could believe it would be that easy. She was not amused by the whole idea of me two days ago.”
“Well, you have to remember that she’d just been hit that day with all this will stuff. And remember how we behaved when we found out?”
Maddie’s self-deprecating chuckle came accompanied by a shake of her head. “Only too well. I was a real princess.”
“And I was an ogre. So, see? We got over it and we’re doing better now. My mother will, too. She’ll come around.” Maddie opened her mouth as if to protest further. “Look, I should tell you how it is, Maddie. Lady Lillian is my mother and I love and respect her. But I’m also a grown man, and I’m not afraid of her. That said, I think I know her well enough to say she’ll tire of this place inside of a few days and leave—if we don’t give her a fight and a reason to stay.”
Maddie firmed her lips together and nodded, obviously weighing his words. “I see your reasoning. I do. And I concede that you know her best. But from my angle, Hank, it’s the idea of her being here and watching me that makes me uncomfortable. On the one hand I want to laugh because it’s so silly and, okay, endearing that she’d be this worried about you. But on the other, I get the same feeling as I would with an IRS audit. You hate it and it makes you nervous and guilty, even when you have nothing to hide.”
“You have every right to feel that way. Just as you have every right to handle her any way you see fit. I mean that. But I couldn’t be more embarrassed that she’s here and making you feel like you’re under the gun.”
“It’s not your fault, Hank. You didn’t do anything. And I guess you’re right. She won’t be satisfied until she learns for herself that I didn’t do anything, either.”
Hank shrugged and gestured toward her. “A pretty good assessment, I’d say. So we agree? There’s not a thing either one of us can do until or unless she does something first, right? And if she does, we both step in?”
“Right.”
Hank felt good about this. He and Maddie were working together. They had a plan of action. Or inaction, he supposed. “Remember, she may not do anything. I left her with Celeste, who certainly won’t take any guff about you off her. Or probably won’t leave her alone long enough for her to wander around Hanscomb Harbor unattended. Besides, I think it’s more likely that the two of them will team up and take over the government.”
That earned Hank a chuckle from Maddie. “And not a minute too soon, if you ask me.”
Hank smiled expansively. “See? A bright side already.”
* * *
The only bright side, come Monday morning at ten o’clock sharp—opening time at Maddie’s Gifts—was the weather. The day dawned bright and warm. The air felt as if it had been washed clean by the wind-driven clouds that, like great sponges, had scudded across the sky in purifying swipes. Yes, the day promised to be beautiful. But not profitable. The unseasonable storm had taken its toll on fickle tourists who had left for home or warmer climes, taking with them their dollars and August’s sales figures.
Maddie found herself thinking that maybe the decreased sales wouldn’t matter—and caught her breath. That was twice this morning that the insidious thought had occurred to her. They were right, the people who said money corrupted. Going around her shop and opening the shutters and turning the Closed sign over to its Open side, Maddie invoked her work ethic, something she’d believed until now to be ingrained in her Yankee DNA. She told herself how dangerous it was to count on wealth she didn’t have and may never get.
It was just so insidious, that much money. And unbelievable. She felt as if she’d been told she’d won the lottery … maybe. The maybe part came with Hank Madison. He had to do his six weeks uninterrupted before either one of them could win. If win was the right word. Maddie wrinkled her nose, thinking of earlier that morning and the first time she’d thought of the money and had balked at getting up and coming in to work. She’d caught herself mumbling into her pillow, saying, “I’m rich. I don’t have to work.”
But she knew that sentiment wasn’t true. The rich were rich because they worked. Not because they didn’t. Exhibit A was Hank himself. Look at the lengths his grandfather had felt he needed to go to get Hank away from work for only six weeks. That sobering notion had kicked Maddie out of bed—that and Beamer licking her face and whining to go out. Maddie had accused the dog of picking her moments to pretend she couldn’t open the door and let herself out.
Maddie opened the cash register and readied the till for customers who probably wouldn’t come today. Still, as she counted out the money, she told herself, You’re not lazy, Maddie. Or corrupted by money. You’re suffering from sleep deprivation. Maddie quirked her mouth irritably. Ha. More like sexual frustration brought on by all those erotic dreams of Hank last night. She sighed, feeling all dreamy inside. In her dreams, the two of them had done everything except sleep. Maddie exhaled a sharp, sensual whew, remembering how she’d tossed and turned and twisted her covers all about her while in the throes of the full-color images in her mind of Hank being in bed with her … of his hands roving tenderly over her … of him kissing her all over, but especially down there where he put his mouth—
The front door to the shop opened, setting off the maddening little bell above it. At the first note of the cheerful tinkling, Maddie’s heart thumped madly and she jumped guiltily, fearing for one second that the merry music was instead an alarm sounded by the sexual-thought police.
Turned out, it was worse than that. In stepped Celeste, dressed in a blood-red polyester pantsuit. Right behind her was Lillian Madison, dressed to the elegant nines in expensive pastels that complemented her coppery hair and peaches-and-cream complexion. The two women were laughing and talking nonstop and just getting along great and having wonderful fun. Until they saw Maddie at the back of the shop. Instantly their conversation—the last words of which were spoken by Celeste and went like this: “And I swear I never saw Maddie look so…”—came to a screeching halt.
As the three women eyed each other, silence filled the shop and vied for space among the many souvenir items, which included postcards, gold nautical jewelry, and delicate handblown glass sea horses. However, for effect and sudden tension, the setting may as well have been the OK Corral.
“Adorable,” Celeste said, finishing her last statement as she guiltily fingered her favorite pop-bead necklace and exchanged a glance with her companion-in-crime. She then smiled at Maddie. “I was just telling Lillian here about that time when you were four years old and had that dance recital and kept pulling your dress up and how everyone could see your frilly underwear. You never were one to stay in your clothes for long.”
Maddie’s knees locked. Perfect. Just perfect. That’s what Hank’s mother needs to hear. I can’t stay in my clothes. With her face burning red-hot, Maddie refused to meet Lillian Madison’s gaze. “Oh, Celeste. Really. You shouldn’t have. You really should not have. I’m sure Mrs. Madison isn’t interested in my little-girl antics.”
“Why, sure she is,” Celeste said, waving away Maddie’s concern and heading behind a counter where her apron hung on a wooden peg. “I’ve been telling her about you, and she’s been telling me about Hank. Now say hi to Lillian. I told her she could come in today and work with us. We can always use the extra set of hands.”
“We can?” Maddie heard herself say, hating that her voice sounded so high … and panicky. It was worse than she’d feared. The woman wouldn’t be all over town sowing discontent. No, she’d be right here doing it. Maddie fixed her gaze on Hank’s mother, who smiled at her … like the Cheshire Cat. That was when Maddie knew she’d been right yesterday out at the beach cottage with Hank: she was Alice and she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.
“Well,” she managed to chirp to Hank’s mother, “as long as you’re here, would you like a red apron? We all wear red aprons when we work.”
“I won’t need one.” She began digging through her correct-name-brand handbag. “But I will need an ashtray.”
“I don’t have any. I don’t allow smoking in the shop.”
Hank’s mother came up with a gold cigarette case and then smiled at Maddie. “I’m sure you don’t mean me.” She pivoted about, then pointed at a stocked shelf. “Oh, look. An ashtray.” Sure enough, she picked up a souvenir crystal ashtray and held it up for Maddie to see. “How much, honey?”
“Fifteen ninety-nine.”
Perfectly plucked light-brown eyebrows rose. “My. Pricey. Put it on my tab.” She set it on a shelf conveniently close to her elbow. “You may as well start me one. I see a lot of things in here I like.”
Maddie suspected she wasn’t one of them.
By now, Celeste had on her apron and had stowed her purse in a locked cabinet in the stockroom. She was just coming through the curtain, which separated the back from the sales floor. “Lillian thinks I ought to get my hair cut, Maddie. She says this bun makes me look old.”
“Well, you’re not and it doesn’t. I like you just fine the way you are. And I don’t want you to change, Celeste.”
The other two women didn’t move. Or speak. Maddie wanted to cry. Could she have sounded more testy? she wondered. She couldn’t believe her behavior in one way—here she was acting like some girl in junior high whose best friend had suddenly found herself a new best friend. But on the other hand, this was her shop and her rules and her town and her life and her reputation—Maddie inhaled sharply, pleading with the gods for calm. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead.
And that was when the damned front door opened again and the stupid little maniacally tinkling bell chirped so happily and had Maddie ready to explode and maybe even spout a few choice curse words like Celeste always did when she heard the bell—
In walked Hank Madison. Dressed in jeans and a sky-blue knit shirt, the man stopped dead in the doorway. He took in the situation at a glance. Maddie knew because all color and expression left his handsome face. “Mother! What are you doing here—”
“What do you mean? I have to be somewhere—”
“Hank! Fancy seeing you here. Your mother and I had us a time last night at the Captain’s Tavern—”
“The Captain’s Tavern? You took my mother to the—”
“Hank, honey, did you know that there’s a waitress there named Stephie who thinks you are so—”
“Not in front of Maddie, Lillian. You might make her jealous—”
“I am not jealous,” Maddie jumped in. “Hank is his own man. He’s free to do what he pleases with whom he pleases. I certainly have no claim on him. No designs and no intention of having … any designs … and claims on him…” Her voice petered out pathetically. Again her cheeks blazed hot. Maddie felt bad to see Hank looking so startled and a bit crestfallen. She hadn’t really meant most of what she’d said. At least she didn’t think she did. “I mean … he’s certainly a nice man.” She then realized he was in the room and that she should talk to him directly. “You’re a nice man, Hank. You are. I just … don’t think we…” Dammit. “I don’t want to say anything more because right now I sound like an idiot.”
Nobody moved or said anything. Not even to rush in with assurances that she wasn’t an idiot. For her part, Maddie concentrated on dust motes dancing through a lemony shaft of sunlight that dappled the wood flooring.
Then Lillian Madison drew everyone’s strained and grateful attention her way with a bit of unintentional theater. Without a word, and as if unaffected by Maddie’s outburst, she snapped open her gold cigarette case and tapped out a long, thin pink-like-her-outfit cigarette. She put it to her lips, still managing to look like a lady, and expertly lit it with a matching gold lighter. She inhaled, put the lighter and cigarette case back in her handbag, elegantly exhaled, held the cigarette out between two long fingers, picked up the crystal ashtray, held it about chest-high, and finally eyed each of them in turn. Frowning, she focused last on her son. “What?” she wanted to know.
“Maddie has No Smoking signs posted, Mother.”
Lillian sighed. “We’ve been through this already. She doesn’t mean me. Look.” She held out her ashtray. “She even gave me an ashtray. Credit me with some sensitivity, son.” Then she looked him up and down. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you looking so fit and relaxed. James Senior may not have been as crazy as we all thought he was.”
“Not all.” Everyone looked at Maddie. She felt so exposed, yet stood her ground. “I never thought he was crazy.”
Lillian’s chuckling snort brought all eyes her way. “I suppose you didn’t. Just look at you. So pretty and blond.”
Maddie knew she’d been insulted with compliments and her expression puckered. But Lillian Madison had already turned to her son. “So, what are you doing here bright and early, honey? Did you come to see what I might be up to?”
“No. Yes. Not really.” Hank’s gaze flitted to Maddie, leaving no doubt in her mind—or anyone else’s, most likely—that he’d come to see her. Somehow, she felt vindicated by that. And happy. Hank focused again on his mother. “But what are you up to, Mother?”
She took a drag on her pink cigarette and turned her head to exhale the smoke. “I don’t know about ‘up to,’ but I came here today with Celeste to work in Maddie’s shop.”
Hank made a scoffing sound of disbelief. “You want to work, Mother?”
Maddie saw Lillian Madison’s chin come up and caught a glint of something in the older woman’s eyes. Perhaps it was insult. Or hurt. Maddie felt her heart soften toward the woman. Go figure. That darned nice gene, no doubt. She then heard herself unbelievably coming to Hank’s mother’s defense. “Yes, she does want to work.” A crazy idea popped into Maddie’s head and had her grinning. “And I, for one, am grateful.”
“You are?” Lillian, Celeste, and Hank asked in unison.
Maddie began untying her apron. “Yes, I am. In fact, I have so much else to do and have had such trying weeks lately that I think I’ll take the day off.”
“You will?” the threesome parroted.
“I will.” Oh, boy, this felt good. Suddenly giddy and happy, Maddie slipped her apron over her head, hung it up, then smoothed her hands down her cotton flower-sprigged skirt. “Celeste, you’re in charge. You have a set of keys, so lock up at day’s end. I don’t think it will be busy today since most of the tourists fled. But show Mrs. Madison the ropes. And you two have fun.”
Over the two women’s sputterings, Maddie turned to Hank, who’d crossed his arms and had a grin on his face and his eyebrows raised. Totally amused he was. “Your grandfather wanted you to learn how to enjoy life. So how would you like lesson one? I’m talking about a tour of Hanscomb Harbor and a picnic. With me, of course. And Beamer.”
Hank chuckled and shrugged his football shoulders. “At last, Maddie. You’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse.”