Chapter 19
Drake Isle
Emmy
waited around. Even after telling Blake she had two more yoga classes to teach, even after pushing him out the door and telling him to go house hunting on his own, he hung around Harbor Street until almost three o’clock. Finally, when her last student left and she was flipping over the “Closed” sign on the door, he reappeared on her front step holding two moped helmets.
“You ready?”
“You’re kidding.”
“What? I had to bribe the kid at the rental place to keep the last one reserved for me. He’s been sold out since before noon.”
“I’m sure he has.” She pulled her hair from its ponytail and tugged her shirt over her leggings. “But I’m not riding on a moped with you.”
His face fell. “Really?”
“Really. I had a bad experience with one years ago.” That wasn’t too far from the truth, but the bigger reason for her refusal was that she had no intention of getting that close to Blake. The last thing she needed was to wrap her arms around him and press her cheek into his back. The only reason she’d considered going with him at all was to convince him that buying a place on the other side of the island was a much better idea than buying hers. It was easier to do that if she was standing beside him, pointing out the advantages of the properties that he wouldn’t be able to see for himself.
“I’ll drive. You can ride the moped. But I have to change,” she said. “Give me ten minutes.”
“You got it.” He grinned. “Need any help?”
She didn’t dare look back as she darted upstairs. “No.” Blake Carter helping her out of her clothes. Like that would ever happen again.
Blake
minutes, but it was almost twenty by the time she returned to the first floor. Not that Blake minded waiting. He took his time looking around the yoga studio, the office, the custom built desk by the front door and the wide windows overlooking the street. If anything, the crowd had grown in the last few hours. An enormous group of spectators stood out on the pier and along the beach, watching the fishermen haul in their catches for the annual contest. Each fish today was measured and thrown back, for it wasn’t about keeping them for food but simply recording who caught the biggest.
In his heart, Blake knew exactly why his father and the other Eastefire execs wanted this property. Prime location. Solid structure, beautifully renovated. He couldn’t believe Emmy had been able to afford it, but then again, the island’s real estate market had gone through a tailspin after the Misterion debacle. Long-time residents moved to the mainland. Long-standing businesses folded. Without the college students and their families to spend money on Drake Isle, the economy plummeted, and homes and buildings sold for a fraction of their worth.
“I’m all set.”
He turned. She’d changed into denim shorts, a plain blue t-shirt, and canvas sneakers, nothing glamorous at all, yet he felt as though he was staring at someone way out of his league
“Carter?”
“I’m ready.” He held up the two helmets again. “Sure I can’t convince you?”
“I’m sure. You ride that death trap, and I’ll follow in my trusty Corolla.”
“Fine.” He pulled a wrinkled sheet of paper from his pocket. “I have three addresses written down. The first one’s on Harbor Street at milepost eleven.”
“I know where it is. The old Summer’s Swing B&B. I’ll meet you there.”
With the street blocked off, it took a while for Emmy to wrangle her car from its parking spot through a sandy alleyway and around by the lighthouse. When she was finally in the clear, Blake zipped in front of her and headed out of town. Up the hill, past the Drake’s Heart Inn, past the grazing horses and llamas that belonged to Wind and Water Farm, and along the coast. To his left the hillside fell away, until all he could see was ocean. The wind whipped around him, through him, bringing tears to his eyes and salt to his tongue until he laughed aloud. Freedom. Simplicity. Things he rarely tasted anymore. God, he missed this place.
Too soon, the wooden mile markers along the side of the road went from seven to nine to eleven, and he slowed the moped at a long, overgrown driveway. A good fifty yards led up to a four-story building that sat down in a swell. Minimal view of the water. Every window was broken. Most of the paint had peeled off. And the front porch had collapsed.
“What do you think?” Emmy climbed from her car and joined him.
“I’m not surprised it’s vacant. It’s a mess.”
“Well, of course it’s a mess. It’s been empty for two, three years at least. You should’ve seen my place when I bought it.” Her chin lifted with pride.
“Was it this bad?”
“Worse.”
“Then I’m even more impressed with what you’ve done.”
“Stop buttering me up. I’m not going to sell it to you.”
He refrained from saying she might not have a chance. They both knew the truth, and he didn’t want to drive all the light from her eyes.
He shook his head. “I don’t think this place is right. It’s too far from town.”
“The other places are farther.”
“Exactly my point. My father –” He stopped. His father wasn’t the one in charge of Eastefire’s daily operations any longer. Blake was the one who would make this decision. Being the first tech company on the island when Misterion reopened would give them a huge advantage over any that moved in later on. They needed to pick their location strategically. “We want something with easy access to the mainland. Near the harbor.”
“Can’t you at least look at the others? It’s not like they’re a far drive. And they’re closer to the campus, like you said. Wouldn’t that be better? If you’re going to be doing work there?”
“Okay, Em. I’ll look.” But after the second one, an abandoned restaurant that smelled like sewage, and the third one, five acres with a shed and nothing else, he gave up.
They stood in a pull-off just past milepost eighteen. A red convertible with New York plates slowed down and pulled in beside them.
“Excuse me,” said a middle-aged man with a gray beard and long gray hair. “Could you tell us where the Aiyana Historical House is?”
Emmy pointed. “Another five miles that way. Just keep following the road around the island. You’ll see a sign for it.”
The man nodded and said something to his companion, a blonde who looked a good twenty years younger than he. “Stella told me about that love story on one of our first dates. Soon’s I proposed to her, she made me promise to bring her to the island and see the house in person.”
“It’s a sweet story,” Stella said in a strong Italian accent. “I just love it.”
“Huh. I forgot about that,” Blake said as the couple drove away. “The story about Aiyana and William, I mean.”
“Really? It’s about one of your own relatives.”
“It’s not like I knew him personally or anything.”
“Or have an ounce of romance in you.”
He put a hand to his chest. “Ouch. I think I was plenty romantic back in college.”
A shadow crossed her face. “You were, sometimes.”
They stood less than two miles from Misterion. Blake could see the tops of the stone buildings in the distance. “How about we check out the old campus while we’re here?”
A breeze blew Emmy’s hair across her face. “I don’t know. To be honest, I never come down to this end of the island. I haven’t been here...”
Since Piper died.
Since Misterion closed.
Since we broke up.
He could read all those thoughts and more on her face. Without thinking Blake reached out and pulled her close. One arm only, a half-embrace, giving her room but needing to comfort her, and needing the comfort of her against him. For a few seconds, neither spoke. A breeze tossed tumbleweeds of sea grass around their feet. Gulls squawked above them. The band had started to play again on the other side of the island, and everyone must have been at the festivities, because not a soul drove or walked or biked past. Blake had no idea how long they stood there.
Finally Emmy drew in a long, deep breath. Her entire body tensed with it and then released as she let it go. She stepped away from Blake, her chin set, her mouth a thin, strong line. “Maybe you’re right. We should take a look. Maybe get some closure after all this time.”