“ANNE, WE’VE BEEN over this. I had no choice.”
“Rhys, you absolutely did have a choice.”
“Not the way I see it.”
“All I’m saying is that you cannot talk to people that way.”
Camile heard the exchange after walking into Rhys’s house. When she’d buzzed in at the gate, Rhys had told her the door would be unlocked and to come inside. From across the open floor plan, she could see into one end of the kitchen where brother and sister appeared to be having a standoff. A scowling Anne stood with hands on hips on one side of the granite bar while Rhys leaned on the other. As Camile watched, he slid a hand around the back of his neck and held it there. A gesture of frustration Camile now knew well from their first two dance lessons. She’d agreed to one more lesson as she wanted to make sure Rhys had the basics down before handing him off to someone else. At least, that was what she told herself.
“The woman is a mean-spirited gossip.”
Anne glanced in her direction. “Great, Camile, you’re here. Please tell my brother that he can’t insult people in this town if he wants them to like him.”
“I don’t care if someone like her likes me.”
“It’s prominent people like her who influence other people.”
“Um...” Camile pointed toward the door. “Should I wait outside?”
“No,” Rhys fired off. Softening his tone, he caught her gaze and added, “Please don’t.” Focusing on Anne again, he said, “She insinuated that I’m a bigamist.”
“I’m sure she was joking,” Anne countered.
“She tried to present it that way, but she was irritated that I won’t let her daughter get married here.”
“Keisha Williams?” Camile asked, thinking fast. Katie worked at Keisha and Tom’s real estate office. This was making more sense now.
“Yes,” Anne answered. “How did you know?”
“I heard you were at their party last night. And everyone knows that Bethany is after the ‘it’ place to get married. The place no one else can get.” Camile added an eye roll.
Rhys’s eyebrows shot up, and he flashed Anne the classic “I told you so” look.
Anne sighed. “No one is going to believe that you’re a bigamist.”
“Probably not,” Camile said. “Not when drug dealer is so much easier to believe.”
“Drug dealer?” Rhys repeated. “Who said that?”
“I heard it this morning at the coffee shop, in addition to the bigamist thing.”
“The coffee shop!” Anne cried. “This is just great!” Throwing her hands up in the air, she immediately let them fall to her sides. “Instead of getting better, it’s getting worse. We need a body double for you.”
Frustration emanated from a now-pacing Anne. Even Rhys appeared troubled by the news. Camile felt awful, her gaze darting between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No! I mean yes, you should say all the things,” Anne countered, stopping and facing her. “I need to know what people are saying about him. What else have you heard?”
“Who said that I’m a drug dealer? Specifically, who were these people?” Rhys asked, blue eyes locked on to hers.
Camile answered Rhys first, “Um, Emma Vale and Katie Manning. They came into Blue Carafe this morning, and I overheard them talking. I asked them about it and assured them that it wasn’t true.”
“Thank you,” Rhys said, although Camile could see the reassurance didn’t help much. Making it that much more difficult to answer Anne, who was staring intently at Camile, waiting for the answer to her question.
“Okay, well, as you know, I haven’t been back in town very long. But when Nina heard that you’d hired me, she told me that people have been gossiping about Rhys since he moved here. She said she’s heard that you’re an ex-spy, a mafia hit man and in the witness protection program.”
“Because that’s what you do when you’re in the witness protection program,” Anne said sarcastically. “Draw attention to yourself by irritating the community members where you live.”
Rhys said, “I don’t try to irritate anyone. I try to do the opposite. That’s the point.”
Voice softening, Anne said, “I know, Rhys. This is just...not going as well as I’d hoped.”
Camile glanced from one distressed sibling to the other. What was going on here? Their reaction to this silly small-town gossip seemed a little over the top. Rhys did not seem like the type of guy who cared what people thought of him, a trait that Camile rather envied, and one he’d presumably been living with for better than two years. So why was this suddenly bothering him? Surely he’d heard some of these rumors before now?
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
Anne took a step back to lean against the counter. “We’re not going to give up.”
Give up? On what? What did that mean?
A loud buzz sounded. Rhys and Anne both frowned at a tablet sitting on the countertop between them. Rhys reached for it.
“Who could that be?” Anne asked crossly.
“I have no idea,” he said, tapping on the display. His glower transformed into a huge smile. “It’s Mom and Willow.”
Anne let out a gasp. “What! They weren’t supposed to be here for two more days.”
“Remember, we need to keep Willow out of my wood shop. I’ll sneak in there later and put everything back to the way it was before.”
“Right,” Camile answered hurriedly. “But what about your lessons?”
Rhys and Anne looked at her. “The studio,” Camile quickly supplied as if she were an eager coconspirator. Definitely not the time to tell them she wasn’t going to continue teaching him. “If you don’t mind driving into town, we can use the studio. Late nights or early mornings are a safe bet.”
Anne graced her with an appreciative smile.
“Thank you.” Rhys’s shoulders slumped with relief. “You’re sure it’s okay? You have a key? Do I need to talk to the owner? Rent the space?”
“I promise it’s okay.” Camile said reassuringly. “I live there in an apartment right above it. Gia lets us use it for private lessons. Text me later, and we’ll work it out.” Camile hitched a thumb behind her. “I think I’ll go so you guys can catch up.”
“No, stay,” Rhys said quickly. “You can meet our mom and Willow.”
“Yes, please stay,” Anne said.
“How are you going to explain me?” She gestured at herself in leggings, short skirt, tank top and heels. “This is maybe an odd outfit if I’m not a dance instructor?”
“Take off your shoes,” Anne said. Removing her own cardigan, she handed it to Camile. “Put this on.”
She must not have appeared convinced because Rhys added, “I’ve been wanting to tell Willow about you. It’s difficult keeping you a secret. This way if I slip and mention you, she’ll just think you’re a friend and nothing more.”
Another odd statement. Why would he talk about her to his fiancée in any aspect other than as his dance instructor? The dancing was supposed to be a surprise. Hence, there should be no talking about her at all. The thought of meeting Rhys’s fiancée had her insides twisted in knots. The reason behind those knots caused even worse knots. Basically, she was a mass of confusing and baffling knot-feelings. She just knew the woman was going to be beautiful beyond belief. And highly intelligent, like Rhys. She was probably a doctor or a physicist or in some other equally revered profession. But before she could decline, voices and footsteps sounded from the porch.
She felt Rhys’s eyes on her as she smoothly stepped out of her shoes and, with one foot, slid them under the nearby side table. She slipped into the sweater. The grateful smile he gave her left her with a warm glow. Tentatively, she returned the gesture. His eyes seemed to be asking her a question, and she was baffled as to what it might be. The door opened. She planted a smile on her face, spun around and prepared to be intimidated.
That was not what happened.
Not at all. One look at the young Willow and Camile wondered if Katie and Emma’s most ridiculous speculation might be true. Willow had long, curly, auburn-colored hair, porcelain-pretty skin and very blue eyes. Eyes that flashed with excitement as she bolted across the room. Her dimpled smile was so bright that not even the braces on her teeth could diminish it. Braces! The girl—the girl!—could not possibly be more than sixteen years old. As she came closer, Camile realized that even for an immature sixteen-year-old, that estimate likely was a stretch. She looked more like twelve or thirteen. What in the name of all that was good and sane was going on here?
The girl reached Rhys first and threw herself into his arms the way children do—eyes squeezed shut. He hugged her tight like she was the most precious of treasures while Camile contemplated calling the police or her new attorney or Aubrey and her Coast Guard cavalry or...someone. The sensation of being trapped in a creepy psychological thriller stole over her. Next, they’d lead her and the child Willow to the bigamist compound located in the deep woods out yonder and lock them both inside with their sister wives.
“Mom!” Anne embraced the older woman with an enthusiastic ferocity before letting her go. Then Willow and Anne exchanged hugs while Rhys similarly greeted his mother.
Anne cried, “What are you guys doing here? Wait, before you tell me, let me introduce you to our friend. I’d like you guys to meet Camile Wynn. Camile, this is our Mom, Roberta McGrath. Everyone calls her Bertie or Bert.”
The woman stepped forward to shake Camile’s hand. She had thick silvery-gray hair with waves reminiscent of Rhys’s, but longer and much tamer. And the same shatteringly blue eyes as her children. Like Anne’s, hers were full of life and curiosity. “Nice to meet you, Camile. What a lovely name.”
“Thank you, Bertie. Nice to meet you, too,” Camile managed.
Anne kept one arm around the child’s shoulder. “And this is our niece, Willow.”
Niece? Niece! How had she missed this? Willow had Anne’s complexion and the McGrath eyes, too, she realized, peering at her more closely. They just looked different contrasted with her much darker hair. Rhys was not engaged to this teenager, thank the stars above. Rhys was not engaged at all... Camile felt her pulse slowly decelerate even as warmth bundled right at her core. The heat began to radiate outward when she noticed Rhys’s focus on her again, approval and affection in his dazzling smile. And this time Camile smiled right back, ignoring the multifaceted reasons for her relief.
Then she showered her attention on Rhys’s adorable niece. “Hi, Willow! I’ve heard tons of good stuff about you. I’m so happy to meet you.”
LATE THAT EVENING, Rhys pulled up outside the large brick building in Pacific Cove where Camile’s apartment was located. When she’d left that morning, he’d walked her out to her car and they’d made a plan to meet here for his lesson. As instructed, he took out his phone and texted her: I’m here.
When he’d gone back inside the house, Willow had asked if Camile was his girlfriend. Now, staring at his phone like an anxious teen waiting for a response, he wondered if his feelings for her were that obvious or if Willow was simply being a curious kid?
Meet me at the front door. I’ll be right down. Her response sent his pulse racing, tipping the scales toward the former.
Gathering the container he’d brought, he exited his pickup and headed toward the entrance. A light flicked on in the entryway, and a few seconds later, the door opened.
“Hey, come on in.”
Rhys stepped inside.
“You’re early,” she said with that full-on smile that always left him a little dazed. He found it difficult not to stare at her mouth. He’d never met anyone who conveyed so much with a smile. What would she do if he kissed her? That might be the way to resolve the question of mutual attraction. Because there were moments like this when he thought she liked him, too—instances where chemistry seemed to jolt them both.
“I am,” he said, without explanation. The truth was he’d been anxious to see her again. Admitting that would probably make her uncomfortable. Holding the carton aloft, he said, “I brought you something.”
Smile dissolving in a way he didn’t like, she narrowed her gaze suspiciously and asked, “What is it?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t trust me.” Why don’t you trust me? I want you to trust me. I want you to like me.
A flicker of something appeared in her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again. “I don’t trust you. I hardly know you. Besides, no one in their right mind would trust a bigamist drug dealer,” she joked.
He laughed. She was good at lightening his mood. Like the sun suddenly appearing after a rainstorm, she seemed to have that effect on everyone.
She was still smiling when she reached out and took the carton from him. “It’s warm.” She gave it a sniff. “And it smells really good. Like chocolate.”
“Willow and I made cookies.”
“You brought me cookies?” Her tone was filled with disbelief, and her eyes searched his face like she couldn’t believe he’d done it.
“I did. Willow and I like to bake together. Harper said you like sweets.”
“Thank you. I do. I like pretty much anything that’s fast and that I don’t have to cook myself. And if these are anything like your muffins, they will make a perfect dinner.”
“Dinner? It’s almost nine. Haven’t you eaten?”
“Nope. But suddenly I’m super excited about the prospect. Do you mind coming upstairs to my place for a few minutes? I’m not quite ready. I just got home from a shift at Tabbie’s.”
“Sure,” he said, and she pivoted around. Rhys happily followed; he wanted to see where she lived. “Tabbie’s has great food. Why didn’t you eat there? Don’t they give you free food or at least a discount?”
“I know, and yes, they do. Their seafood chowder is so good it brings tears to my eyes.” Her shoulders pulled up into a shrug. “So I don’t know why. Busy, I guess.”
“Too busy to eat?” he asked as they climbed the stairs. “How many jobs do you have? Harper said several.”
“It’s more that I start thinking, and then I forget to eat, if I’m being honest. Until I’m super hungry and then I eat everything in sight as fast as I can. I have six jobs.”
“You have six jobs?” he repeated and knew his voice held an edge. She’d left the door to her apartment open, and they went inside. “No wonder you forget.”
She set the bag on the table and removed the container of cookies. He liked how she took a second to study the lot and choose a specific one as if they weren’t all the same.
“Where do you work besides Blue Carafe, Tabbie’s and the dance studio?”
“Clean Breeze Car Wash and Fast Lanes, the bowling alley. I also do product promotions. But those jobs are usually temporary. Like a day or a weekend, or a few consecutive weekends. I did more of that in college when I lived in Portland and before...” She took a bite of cookie and immediately gushed, “Oh, wow. Delicious.”
“Product promotion is like the taco dancing?”
She cringed. “You saw the video?”
At his nod, she groaned and shook her head. “Has anyone not seen the video?”
“In this town, doubtful.” Brushing a hand across his jaw, he let out a chuckle. “I don’t do social media myself, but Anne saw it and showed me. And Mom and Willow. If you divide the number of views by the population of Pacific Cove, then everyone in town has watched it multiple times, or nearly every person in the state has watched it once.”
“Are you kidding me?” she cried. “It has four million views?”
“Just over,” he said. “You were honest and brilliant. It made me proud to know you and...”
Camile appeared too distraught to grasp the compliment, and he was growing concerned by how pale she’d gone.
She braced her hands on the chair in front of her. A touch of despair emanated from her as she said, “I should have known better, right? Everyone has a camera these days, don’t they?”
Rhys took a step closer. Why was she so upset about this? She hadn’t done anything wrong. He wanted badly to touch her, to comfort her, to reassure her. “He deserved it.”
“He did. It was very satisfying to let him have it. But unfortunately, it’s going to cost me.”
“Does a job like that really pay that much?”
“No. It’s not about that. It’s...” she trailed off as if trying to decide how to answer.
“What is it about?”
Head slowly shaking, she reached for her third cookie.
Concerned about her physical state and wondering if not eating was messing with her blood sugar, he said, “Cookies aren’t the best choice for dinner.”
“You sound like my sister Aubrey.” Her chuckle sounded forced. “That depends if by best, you mean not convenient and delicious.”
He walked over and opened her fridge. Happily surprised by what he found, he said, “You have food. Will you eat something else if I fix it for you?”
CAMILE HATED THE word surreal. She’d always thought it was like saying circumstances were not real when in fact they were just bizarre or difficult to believe. To her, the term sort of took the punch out of an authentically strange experience by giving it a dreamlike quality. But it was the word she kept coming back to as she sat at the table and watched Rhys McGrath moving around her kitchen preparing her a tuna melt with a side of sliced apple. His concern and thoughtfulness had her reeling. Obviously, she’d never experienced conditions that truly met the surreal criteria before.
“How do you have groceries but not cook?” After placing the sandwich under the broiler, he shut the oven door and moved so his hips were resting against the cupboard beside it.
“I don’t usually. Aubrey brings me groceries sometimes.”
His brow creased like he was thinking about that. “I take that to mean she doesn’t approve of your eating habits?”
“Yep.”
“Does it have something to do with what you guys were discussing at the restaurant the other night? You were in the hospital, right?”
Camile thought for a moment. They’d pretty much finished discussing the topic when Harper had appeared with Rhys and Anne, but now that she thought about it, Aubrey had brought it up again before she’d left. “You are one of those people who appear not to be paying attention when they actually are.”
One shoulder lifted in a little shrug. “My sister has told me that, too. To me, I’m just...”
“Just?” she prodded.
“I mean, I don’t look bored on purpose. It’s just...me. Like it’s... I also...think a lot. I tend to tune out everything except what I’m interested in. For example, if I find one person particularly interesting in a conversation, I’ll only hear them or what pertains to them.”
What? Camile took a second to ponder that, grateful when he returned to tending the oven. Because did that mean he was interested in her? But how could that be? Why would he be interested now and so very...not, two years ago?
Back at his task, he removed the pan and slid the tuna and cheese-laden bread onto a plate, added a slice of tomato, and then placed the plate before her. Taking a seat across from her, he said, “Thank you for staying and meeting my family today. They loved you.”
Camile smiled. She’d stayed for breakfast and a longer visit than she’d anticipated. Willow was funny and outgoing in a way that reminded her of Anne, while her curiosity and intelligence were all Rhys. Camile also discovered the uncle and niece shared a competitive drive when Camile and Willow teamed up to annihilate Rhys in a video game of Castle Gate. Willow confided that she’d never bested her uncle at it before and could Camile come back tomorrow so they could do it again? Rhys joked that she’d worn out her welcome and would never be allowed in his house again.
“I thought they were pretty awesome, too. Willow is a doll. She’s a brainiac like you, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she thinks a lot like me. Evan and I had that in common, too. Fortunately, she inherited her mother’s sweet nature. She also seems to have been blessed with my mom’s and Anne’s wit. The combination gives her social skills that Evan and I lack, or lacked, I guess in his case.” He cleared his throat and Camile felt sympathy tighten her chest at the glimpse of latent grief. “Most grateful for that.”
“Your sister is like a carbon copy of your mom.”
The statement seemed to cheer him and Camile was glad. “Yes, with Evan gone, I don’t stand a chance against their schemes.”
“Can I ask you a couple of questions about them?”
His eyes found hers then and held on. “You can ask me anything you want.” The sincerity in his tone intensified the gravity in his expression, leaving Camile with the feeling he was trying to convey something extremely important. The man was a puzzle. And since he didn’t seem to mind the query, she couldn’t resist a bit of solving.
“Anything?”
“Yes, absolutely. But if you don’t get the answer you’re after, please rephrase the question and try again.”
“What if it’s a really embarrassing personal question?” she teased.
His brow furrowed like he was pondering the implications of that possibility. “I thought the questions were going to be about my family.”
“They are,” she rushed out the words. “I was just joking because you implied that you’d answer honestly.”
“Oh,” he said but it didn’t dispel the furrow.
“I take it that means the subject of you is off-limits, question-wise?”
“No. I didn’t mean to imply that. You can ask anything about me, as well. What I was referring to before is that sometimes I miss subtleties and end up misunderstanding the intent of the question. In other words, I, uh, fixate on an unimportant detail or go off on a tangent or however you want to term it.”
“I see.”
“But you should know before you start asking questions that dishonesty is very difficult for me. Anne always tells me that there’s a place in this life for hedging the truth, but I’ve never mastered the art of it. Probably because I don’t want to. I don’t understand the purpose, beyond creating confusion and misunderstandings. I either tell the truth, or I don’t say anything at all.”
Camile felt a prickle of unease dance up her spine. That meant she could ask him why he’d left her on that date, and she’d get an honest answer. But she knew she wouldn’t ask. She didn’t think she wanted to know. The notion was both disappointing and a little depressing. She didn’t want to hear him say the words. It would be like getting rejected all over again. Which meant that she liked him way more than she should.
“I’ll stick with my original family-related questions for now,” she affirmed, forcing a lightheartedness she no longer felt.
“Fire away.”
“Anne mentioned the other day that Willow’s parents have both passed away. So she’s your late brother’s child?”
“That’s correct.” Seeming to warm to the topic, he leaned toward her, placing his forearms on the table and intertwining his fingers. “Willow is the daughter of our brother, Evan, and his wife, Vanessa. Evan suffered a series of strokes a couple of years ago. The first stroke was relatively mild, and we thought he’d make a full recovery. Odds were in his favor. But then he had another one, much, much worse than the first. He didn’t pull through. It was a shock.”
“I’m so sorry. You were close?”
“Yes, very. We were very similar. He understood me, as did Vanessa, because of Evan.”
“When did Vanessa die?”
“Almost three months ago. Car accident.”
Camile felt her chest go tight with empathy and distress. That kind of suffering made her problems seem insignificant. “I can’t even imagine. That poor girl. Willow lives with your mom now?”
“Oh. No...” He paused for a beat as if gathering his thoughts. “She lives with me. Evan and Vanessa granted me custody of Willow in their will. Anne has committed to helping and is moving here from Portland so Willow will have a strong female influence in her life. Our parents also live in Portland. They’ve always been very involved in her life, too.”
“Why has she been in South Carolina? And what’s this ‘practice’ you were all talking about?” The McGraths had all discussed it over pancakes. As a purported friend of Anne and Rhys’s, Camile had felt like she should know what it was without asking in front of everyone.
“Willow is spending part of the summer in South Carolina with Vanessa’s parents because she’s participating in the Magnolia Junior Debutante Program there. She’ll be flying back and forth until it’s concluded.”
Camile frowned, thinking. People grieved in all kinds of ways, but did it seem like an odd thing to do in light of her mother’s recent death?
Subtlety may not have been his thing, but there was nothing wrong with Rhys’s powers of deduction. “Vanessa came from an old Southern family. Willow’s great-great-grandmother was one of the first participants in the program. Willow is participating as a tribute to her mom.”
Camile nodded, the ache in her chest intensifying. Was there something she could do? Some way that she could help? Of course there was, she realized, as the importance of his goal became clear.
“And the dancing is somehow a part of it all?”
“The ball kicks off with a father-daughter waltz.” The combination of vulnerability and hopefulness in his expression had her heart squeezing tightly. “I need to be able to do this for Willow. She’s the bravest person I’ve ever known. Doing this when I know how much she’s hurting... I want to make her happy and...” Pausing, he swallowed and glanced away for a few seconds. Then he nodded, clearly struggling to rein in his emotions. After inhaling a deep breath, he focused on her again. “And I know it’s what Evan and Vanessa would want.”
“Well, Rhys,” Camile said, blinking back tears, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a better reason to learn to dance.”
They shared a smile and Camile knew in that moment she’d give the man as many lessons as it took.