CHAPTER 3

Melanie bunched the handmade dress into a ball and whipped it into the corner of her basement bedroom, thankful Daphne and her daughter weren’t home to witness her mini freak-out. Sucking in a deep breath, she smoothed the worn XXL T-shirt over her ribs, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a willowy frame like her older sister Hailey. But no, puberty had decided to give her melon-sized breasts and a massive growth spurt that had earned her the nickname Sasquatch from her first boyfriend, Lix Levenson.

For what it was worth, she’d tried putting herself out there in hopes of discovering what was missing in her life, but she’d failed. There had been no sudden finding her place in the world, no sudden sprouting of confidence, no sudden sensation of feeling comfortable in her body. She kicked the dress farther into the corner for good measure and yanked her hair into a sloppy bun. What a goof she’d been to believe it was possible. And to think, after leaving the Steel Barrel, she’d been ready to ask Simone, the dress’s designer, to make her a closetful of them. But now, no way.

Melanie hadn’t been seeking humiliation but that’s what had been served up cold. Today she had been nothing more than a dressed-up version of the self she was trying to avoid. Evidence for the jury: Stedman had left her by the road; Tristen wouldn’t accept a drink or meal or let her pick his brain, and had practically run away from her. She’d always prided herself on her connection skills when it came to people, but when it came to men…

Sure, the bikers seemed to have been smitten by her and her dress, and as kind as they were, they weren’t the type of men looking to do marriage and kids with a lawyer.

Her life was in free fall. Not only had her landlord kicked her out of the rental she’d shared with her friend Nora so he could sell it, but Melanie was now depending on her baby sister to keep a roof over her head. At least she and Daphne could split the rent, and maybe somehow save up enough money for their portion of the cottage’s overdue tax bill—even if it meant living in the unfinished basement and keeping her antique teacups in a cardboard box. Eventually, Melanie would have her student loans paid off and would be making more than the pittance that trickled into her bank account. As a first-year lawyer she was optimistic about having her financial life pull together, but that day had yet to dawn. Kind of like the one where her love life began to emulate something other than a horror flick.

She stomped up the stairs to the main floor of the tiny Cape Cod style home and just about bowled Daphne over.

“You’re home!” she said to her sister.

“How was your date?”

“Where’s Tigger?”

“Wow.” Daphne waved a hand in front of her nose. “What were you drinking?”

“Whiskey.”

Melanie ducked so she didn’t have to catch Daphne’s chiding look, and grabbed her five-year-old niece, who had bounded over, her ever-present party dress flouncing against her scab-covered knees.

“How’s riding a two-wheeler?” Melanie asked, setting her down after a ginormous hug.

Tigger scrunched her nose. “It’s hard.” She tugged on her mother’s hand, dragging her shoulder down. “Can I have ice cream? Please?”

“No sugar until after supper. If you’re hungry, have an apple.”

“I don’t want an apple.”

“Then you’re not that hungry. Go play.”

“It’s hot out.”

“Then play inside.” Daphne turned to Melanie. “How was the date?”

Someone banged on the front door and Melanie took the opportunity to escape her sister’s questions. She glowered out the peephole and swung the door open. “Go away!” she snapped at Stedman.

“I wanted to apologize.” He offered her red clutch as though it was a bouquet of flowers.

Melanie snatched the bag. “Apologize for leaving me on the side of the road outside a biker bar? Or for lacking the ability to comprehend that no means no?”

She could hear Daphne shuffling in the room behind her, likely unable to avoid eavesdropping due to the house’s small size. And while Melanie enjoyed being able to hear her sister read Tigger bedtime stories each evening, from her spot in the basement, this wasn’t a conversation she particularly wanted to broadcast—especially since she might say something Tigger would end up repeating at an inopportune time.

Stedman tossed his head, sandy curls sweeping off his forehead. “Yeah, that.”

“Which thing are you apologizing for, exactly?”

“Um, both?”

“Thank you for bringing back my purse.” She began closing the door on him. “Wait. How did you know where I live?” She’d intentionally met him outside Simone’s boutique instead of having him pick her up. Online dating and all that. Although getting into his truck likely hadn’t earned a high score on the “how to be careful on your first date” rating scale.

Stedman shot her an impish smile and she slammed the door, flicking the dead bolt into place. Men.

Where was that ice cream Tigger was asking for? Would Melanie be a bad aunt if she sat down at the kitchen table and ate it all? Out of sight, out of temptation?

Her purse began ringing and she dug through it for her phone.

It was her sister Maya.

“Hey,” Melanie said. “What’s up?”

“Connor just talked to Tristen Bell.”

Had Connor been able to sweet-talk Tristen? It wouldn’t be a hardship to spend more time around that man and his beefy biceps despite his hot-and-cold persona. Plus, the sisters could definitely use his expertise.

“He’s out.”

Melanie sighed, feeling let down all over again. “I figured as much.”

“I thought he’d say yes to Connor. Being old pals and all.”

What a buttcake. That was the problem with billionaires. They always stuck to themselves and never felt the need to help the little guy. Heck, he might even own shares in Rubicore for all she knew.

“We’ll find someone,” Maya said. “You’re good at talking to people and connecting and all that. Connor says to watch Rubicore carefully in case they take shortcuts.”

Melanie made a noncommittal sound.

“Dang.” Her sister laughed. “From what Connor’s said about Tristen I figured the two of you would make a great pair.”

In bed.

Wow, where did that thought come from?

“Mel? Still there?”

“Yeah. Right, um, I’ll think on it, okay?”

“Do you have your cottage money yet?”

“Almost.” Almost being pretty darn far from pulling her share out of the sky. One month until the century-old cottage was whisked from their possession if things didn’t change. “Have you got yours?”

“I’m trying to convince Connor to give me a finder’s fee for that dental device we’re investing in, but he’s so friggin’ difficult.”

“Tell him it’s for the cottage and I’m sure he’ll agree to give it to you.”

“I want him to give it to me because he feels I deserve it, you know?”

“Then set up a finder’s fee for the next investment. You have a month. Not a lot of time, but how long did the last one take you? A few weeks at best.”

“Hmm. I wonder.”

Melanie could practically hear Maya pondering an idea, weighing it for potential.

“All right. I’m on it. Thanks, Smelly Mellie.”

“Pushy broad.”

Maya laughed and hung up on her. Shaking her head, Melanie dug through the kitchen freezer. She jumped when Daphne appeared at her side, all petite and pretty in her flowing cotton dress. A mere woodland nymph compared to her. It made Melanie want to sit down so she didn’t feel like Gigantor.

“Was that your date? Stedman?”

“Maya.” Melanie closed the freezer, deciding against the ice cream. No need to add to the massive boobage. Maybe Maya would be up for meeting for drinks somewhere instead. That always seemed to go to her waist, which was easier to disguise due to said boobage. Comfort food of the liquid variety. Plus, hanging out with Maya, the lucky duck, might allow some of her fabulous dating and career luck to rub off on Melanie.

In her dreams.

“I mean at the door,” Daphne clarified.

“Yeah. Forgot my purse in his truck.”

“The date was that good?” The hope in Daphne’s eyes was disgusting. Disgusting because Melanie had wanted it, too.

“No. It sucked. How was your day?”

“Great.” Her sister’s face lost its usual sunniness. “Well, except we got another notice about the tax sale. Registered letter.” She grabbed an envelope from a large bowl and handed it over.

Melanie scanned it, then said, “Nothing we didn’t already know. Just another warning. It’s procedural. Covering their butts and all that.”

Daphne sat, her elbow anchored on the kitchen table in order to hold up her head of crazy, light brown curls. “Maybe we should stay out at Nymph Island to allow destiny to give us a real shot.”

Tempting. The family lore said the island was enchanted. Or at least it was good at hooking up female members of the Summer family. Their great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, and now Hailey and Maya had all fallen in love while spending time out at the ancient cottage. Plus, the two eldest sisters had had their careers take off in the last month. Even for a logical-minded lawyer, those facts were hard to discount.

But if the two youngest Summers—Melanie and Daphne—couldn’t cover their portions of the cottage’s back taxes, their family was going to lose the place.

“So? Nymph Island?” Daphne asked, pulling Melanie from her thoughts.

“Yay! Let’s go to the cottage!” Tigger crawled out from the cupboard under the sink, where, evidently, she had been playing hide-and-seek alone. “Wait!” She held out her hands, feet planted far apart. “I have to get my fairy box.”

“I don’t think we’re going right now,” Melanie said slowly.

“Well, I think we should,” Daphne said decisively. “Use it while we have it. Do you have any dinner plans?”

Melanie shook her head.

“Then let’s go. We can pick up a lumberjack sandwich on our way out. Instant picnic for six dollars. What do you say?”

Six dollars wasn’t going to make or break them.

Tigger clasped her fingers together under her chin and batted her eyes at her aunt. Melanie laughed and threw up her hands. She could never resist her niece, who was a bright ray in her days. Every emotion that ran through that child was pure and real. She was the one true thing in Melanie’s life. “Fine,” she declared.

The girl was out of the room, nothing more than a flash of party dress, eager to collect her box of small treasures intended for the fairy houses she built on Nymph Island.

Melanie picked up her purse. “I met Tristen Bell today.” Her body had a mini battle with itself over Tristen’s confusing appeal and sudden, sharp rejection.

Daphne’s face brightened expectantly as she waited at the door for Tigger to catch up with them.

“Maya says he won’t help with Rubicore—and he said the same to me.”

“Oh, well.” Daphne didn’t seem particularly perturbed. She jiggled her van keys as Tigger raced by, fairy box cradled against her chest.

 Melanie paused to watch Daphne climb into the unlocked Dodge Caravan. She couldn’t quite put her finger on her sister’s cavalier mood. Usually she was all over developers.

“Don’t you lock your van?” she asked as she got in beside her, noting that all the windows were down.

“Nah. It gives me a sense of adventure, never knowing whether there is an ax murderer hiding in the backseat.” Daphne let out a burst of laughter, shaking the vehicle with the sound. 

“I’m not an ax murderer,” Tigger stated darkly, and her mom laughed again.

“Right you are!” Backing into the street, she said to Melanie, “Did you hear? A few local environmental agencies are swinging their weight to protect the spotted turtle habitat Finian found near Bala and not only is there a private firm acting like they want to hire me, but Environment Canada is, too.”

“That would be amazing.” Maybe that was why Daphne was in a strange mood. Her sister had always shunned the idea of a something as rigid as a nine-to-five desk job—and especially for the government—but as a single mom, the prospect of decent pay, benefits, a pension as well as paid holidays might be just too darn tempting. Something like that would be a far cry from the odd jobs she took now to pay the bills so she could volunteer as an environmental spokesperson.

“Yeah, maybe.” Daphne shot a wistful glance into the backseat, where her daughter was kicking out her legs, eager to go.

“Oh! I can’t believe I forgot.” Melanie bounced in her seat. “Guess who has a Daphne Summer original?”

“Connor MacKenzie. He already told me.”

“Nope. Someone else. Tristen Bell.”

Daphne cast her a sidelong look and Melanie quickly glanced away, certain she was blushing.

“Cool. I appeal to the early retired business tycoon. I wonder where you advertise to reach them?”

Melanie snorted a laugh. “Oh, and I found something in a flea market for Tigger,” she added, digging through her small purse for the trinket she’d picked up before her date. Swiveling, she handed a tissue-paper-wrapped object to her niece.

“For me?” she squealed. “It’s not even my birthday, Auntie Mellie-Melon.”

Melanie laughed at the nickname, pleased to see her sister smiling, too. “Careful. It’s an antique.”

Daphne shot her a worried look.

“It was only $1.75,” she whispered.

“A fairy! Thank you.” The girl clutched the small figurine, its wings peeking out from between her fingers.

“Remember: you can sell them when you want to go to school or buy a house or—”

“I want a Barbie house. Will this buy a Barbie house?”

“Um...”

“Honey,” Daphne interrupted, as she steered the van into the grocery store parking lot, “your aunt means when you’re a grown-up. A house for you to live in.”

“Oh. Okay.” Tigger turned the figurine over, assessing it. “When I’m married?”

“Or before then,” Melanie said, having visions of her niece in her own position—with no money, no man prospects, no home, just a bunch of antiques she felt she couldn’t sell because she’d become attached to them and the stories they held from the past.

“Well, if you can’t make a go of online dating,” Daphne said, changing the conversation, “there’s no way I’m diving in. I’ll take my chances with Nymph Island.”

“You don’t really think destiny’s going to match us up with our mates if we hang out on the island?”

Daphne lifted a shoulder and looked away.

“Oh, my word. You do!” Melanie shouldn’t be surprised. Her sister was the most likely of the four of them to fall for gooshy stuff.

“It happened to Hailey and Maya already this summer. And our mother, grandma and great-grandma in years past.”

“Too bad that’s not something I could put on the application for heritage status. I keep thinking there’s something I’m missing. Some clue that will help us save Trixie Hollow. All those years. All that history. All those stories. And then Rubicore coming in to ruin everything…”

Daphne said with a sigh, “We need a miracle, Mel.”

Rubicore didn’t care about anything the sisters did. Peace, quiet, history, heritage, the environment… Rubicore’s resort would be like having a buzzing shopping mall plunked in the middle of an idyllic farm. Not only that, there would be rich people laughing and playing next door in fancy digs, while they themselves wondered if they’d be able to keep their own dilapidated cottage standing.

Her sister’s cheeks flushed and she gripped her keys hard enough that Melanie worried she’d hurt herself. Just as she reached across to touch her hand, hoping to get her to relax a bit, Daphne  sighed and muttered, “Nuts.”

“Josh is allergic to peanuts. So is Kyra,” piped up Tigger. “They get chipmunk cheeks and a rash.”

Daphne turned sunny again. “Okay. Inside to collect our picnic.”

A few minutes later they were all back in the van and on their way to the marina where they kept the family’s boat.

As they pulled up, Melanie leaned forward, staring out the window. Someone was checking out their Boston Whaler, tied to a dock. And not in an “interesting old boat; miracle it still floats” sort of way.

“Who is that man standing beside our boat?” she asked.

Daphne sat straighter in her seat. “Is he getting in?”

He definitely was. And just because he was wearing a suit didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of stealing it.

Melanie cast a glance in the backseat, where Tigger was gathering up her fairy box to climb out of the van. “Stay here with your mom, okay, Tigger? I need to talk to someone before we go to the island.”

“Who?”

Daphne opened her door. “I’m coming with you. No, wait. On second thought, I’m calling the police.” She lifted her phone to her ear, holding Melanie back with a gentle hand.

Melanie slipped free of her grip and got out as the man left their boat. Hurrying along the pier, she caught up with him before he turned down a side dock, away from her.

“Hi,” she chirped. He gave her a quick nod and continued. “I see you were in my boat just now. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He paused. “I’m sorry?”

“My boat. What were you doing in it?” Melanie drew herself taller, folding her arms across her chest.

“I was leaving a message in Maya Summer’s boat.”

Oh, that was rich. Maya was calling it her boat now? The Whaler belonged to all of them. Sure, Hailey made certain it was always taken care of, but still. It belonged to the whole family. Just like the cottage.

“I’ll be sure she gets it,” Melanie said, striding toward the aluminum vessel.

His steps quick, the man followed her, as though playing shadow tag. It was creepy. Plus, who wore a suit in Muskoka?

Melanie whirled. “Do you have a problem?”

He nearly rammed into her. “I want to be sure the message gets to Maya.”

“She has a boyfriend. A very large boyfriend.”

A cool expression masked whatever the man might be thinking. “I will gladly retrieve it and deliver it myself.” His voice was polite and businesslike in a way that raised Melanie’s hackles. He gave her a small, false smile, as though that would warm her. “I was under the impression that was her boat.”

“I’m her sister and we share the boat. I can give it to her.”

Melanie could almost hear him thinking. He must have already met the well-put-together Maya and maybe pretty, willowy Hailey. Just wait until he saw Daphne, cute as a button, lively and vibrant. Able to wrap whole crowds around her pinky like some sort of snake charmer. Melanie could feel it coming, the up-and-down look, followed by the stale joke, “No wonder you’re a tomboy. You probably didn’t get much time in the washroom to get ready in the mornings, with three other sisters. Five women in the house! Ha, ha, ha.”

Mirror time was not the specific reason for her lack of va-va-voom in the girlie dress-up department.

“Yeah. Four of us sisters,” Melanie said. He went to open his mouth. “And yeah, it was difficult getting mirror space in the mornings, but you know, you learn to adapt, and Mom put up extra mirrors in the hall, with small shelves underneath for those who were waiting.”

The man gave her a blank look.

Melanie climbed into the open-decked boat, ignoring the way it rocked as she scrambled to find the note before the man could join her and snag it. Her fingers closed over an envelope tucked on the dashboard and she slid it into her pocket, keeping her back to the man.

He was still on the dock. “I haven’t introduced myself.”

“Right. You have not.”

He held out his hand with a jerk.

Slowly, Melanie moved to the side of the boat, then climbed onto the pier, reaching out to shake his hand once she had a firm footing. “Melanie Summer.”

“Aaron Bloomwood.”

Aaron from Rubicore Developments. Well, well, well. What was he up to? And what was Maya keeping from the rest of the family?

It wasn’t that Melanie didn’t trust her sister, per se. Okay, she didn’t. Melanie didn’t kid herself that Maya might try and wrangle them a better deal, then tell them at the last minute, hijacking things to go the direction she wanted—which probably wouldn’t be a bad thing. But Melanie didn’t like surprises, and this reeked of one.

Staring into Aaron’s stony eyes, she felt like a fool. He knew more than she did, didn’t he?

“And Maya will know who you are?” she asked, hoping her cheeks didn’t flush as she pretended ignorance.

“Yes. I’m with Rubicore Developments. We made an offer to purchase your family’s island that your sister found deficient.”

That sounded about right.

“This note is additional to the offer. A proposal of sorts. Can you please ensure she gets it? It is time sensitive.”

Now that was intriguing. The envelope was definitely going to get steamed open as soon as Melanie got a chance.

* * *

Melanie and Daphne sat on the veranda of the old cottage, Tigger having devoured her portion of the picnic so she could hurry off with her latest treasures—a nickel, an acorn, a leaf shaped like a heart, and a small pink pebble—to add to a new fairy house.

Melanie shifted so she could pull the envelope from Aaron Bloomwood out of her back pocket.

“Do you think he really was only leaving that for Maya?” Daphne asked.

“He said this is an additional proposal.”

“Of the marriage persuasion?” Daphne joked in a British accent, her chin dipped down in false seriousness.

“But of course,” Melanie retorted, sounding more like a count with a funky loose tooth than anyone British. “Our bossy sister is awash in suitors.”

“Are we going to open it?” Daphne whispered, leaning forward.

Melanie grinned, remembering the time as kids when they’d read Maya’s diary and giggled over their sister’s first kiss—which in Maya’s words had been sloppy and unimpressive, leaving Melanie wondering what all the fuss was about. She had a feeling Maya and her fiancé, Connor, were solving that little mystery several times an hour lately.

“Shall we steam it open, read it, then reseal it?” Melanie asked. “Or do we own up to our snoopish ways and tear it open?”

“He said it was in regards to the offer, right?”

She nodded. Her lawyerly training could get behind the logic of where Daphne was going with this line of thought. “Technically, any offer is for the owners. And we have 50 percent of the voters present—if we don’t include Mom in our count.”

“He mentioned something about it being time sensitive?” Daphne leaned forward, eyes glued to the envelope.

Melanie ripped open the end and pulled a sheet of paper. In the process, a square of card stock fell out. Her sister came to sit beside her, picking it up.

“It’s an invitation to the unveiling of their development plans! Are they nuts?” The scorn and disbelief in Daphne’s voice echoed the disappointment Melanie felt as she read the short note. She’d been hoping for something intriguing, like a Nancy Drew mystery that she and Daphne could unravel. But this? This was just baffling and possibly insulting.

“Why was he so worried about whether she’d get this? And where is the proposal?” Melanie tossed the sheet of paper on the coffee table.

Daphne reached for the letter, then paraphrased the contents. “They’re asking us to join them for supper, then enjoy a private tour of the island before the party where the plans will be revealed. They do say we can discuss any additional proposals at supper. There’s nothing specific.” She dropped the letter where she’d found it and swiveled her head to look out across the water that separated their place from Baby Horseshoe Island. “They want to woo us.”

“I’m not up for wooing,” Melanie grumbled, rubbing her eyes. The heat of the day, the three whiskeys, the hurt of Tristen’s rejection and now this latest letdown were hitting her hard. She wanted a nap. She wanted her mother. “Do we have time to visit Mom on the way home?”

“Hmm?” Her sister blinked. “What?”

“Want to visit Mom on the way home?” The nursing home’s official visiting hours would be over, but none of the staff seemed to mind the sisters coming by to see their night owl mother at unconventional times.

“I think we should go,” Daphne said.

“Great. Maybe Simone can meet us. I want to tell her in person that if Maya has asked her to make more of those dresses for me, it isn’t necessary. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I’m done with Maya’s attempts at revamping my appearance. You know?”

Daphne was still staring at the island across the way, lost in her own world.

“Mom?” Tigger came bouncing onto the veranda. “Can we buy a Bedazzler? I don’t have any more coins for my fairy houses and I need something. Fiona has one.”

“Then ask to borrow hers, please.” Eyes brimming with something that got Melanie’s espionage radar blinking, Daphne turned and held up the note. “I meant this. We should go. Reconnaissance.”

“Really?”

“They think they can woo us, but I say we go and gather ammo so we can shoot these pie-eyed, fat-headed, greedy rich cats out of the sky.”

Tigger gave Melanie a wide-eyed look as if to say, What did you do to my mother?

Melanie grinned and high-fived her sister. For Daphne, that speech was as close to swearing as she ever got.

“I’m in! I say we learn what we can, then use it to halt Rubicore in their tracks. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Mr. Valos over at the municipality. I bet he’d love to hear a presentation about Rubicore’s plans from our side of the fence,” Melanie said.

Oh, yeah. Things were about to get good.