Chapter 16

Drake Isle

Emmy

Tony came around for another dance. Liza checked on Emmy once more before vanishing with Andy. The clock behind the bar moved slowly on to midnight.

“Sunshine, I’m closing in ten minutes,” Crazy Jake said at twelve-twenty, and Emmy looked up to see she was almost alone in the bar. “You need a walk home?”

She rubbed her eyes. Her head ached, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d stopped with the tequila shots, but at some point, someone had bought her a couple glasses of wine, which she was thinking now might not have been the best decision.

“No, I don’t think –” she began, but before she could finish, he whistled, and Tony appeared from somewhere on the other side of the room.

“Make sure this pretty lady gets home okay,” Crazy Jake directed.

Tony nodded. He took Emmy’s arm and steadied her as she stood. “You all right?”

“Yes,” she answered, although she really meant I’m not sure. What had Andy warned her about? Regret in the morning? Looked like it might be too late to head that off. She willed her stomach to behave. The last thing she wanted to do was hurl all over the Anchor and the Mermaid. “‘Night, Crazy Jake,” she called.

He winked and raised a glass of water in a toast. “Drinks lots of this when you get home.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not holding onto the wall. Even with Tony guiding her, her feet seemed determined to take a crooked path. He pushed open the front door, and cool air greeted them. Emmy straightened and breathed deeply.

“I love this place.”

The harbor glittered with lights. The water stretched away under a half-moon, and she could hear the sound of the waves buffeting the rocky pier. The air smelled like salt and sand. In the other direction, almost a mile away, the lights of the school blazed in full force to celebrate the Drake Isle Senior Prom.

“Did you go to prom when you were a kid?” Emmy asked. “I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t grow up here, but I didn’t go to prom at all. That’s what I meant.” Her tongue seemed to tie itself in knots.

Tony chuckled. “I did. Every year except when I was a freshman.”

“Really? You must’ve been super popular.”

“Nope. There just weren’t a lot of people to choose from on the island that you weren’t related to.”

She laughed. “Oh. I guess that makes sense.” The parking lot across the street was almost full and many of the cars had out-of-state plates. “Going to be a busy weekend. Lots of people in town for the festivities.” She tripped down the steps. Tony caught her elbow.

“As always,” he said. He put one arm securely around her waist and pointed her up the street. “Let’s get you home. Plenty of time for festivities tomorrow.”

“Oh. Crap,” she said as they passed Island Magic, a souvenir shop closed up tightly. The sign in the door read Free Tarot Readings All Weekend.

“You’re not a fan of Missy’s readings?” Tony asked as he followed her gaze.

Emmy looked in consternation at the signs in the doors and windows they passed.

Special Sale, Two Days Only!

All Items Discounted 50% for Memorial Weekend

Free Samples Beginning Saturday at Noon

“That’s not it,” she said. “I’m giving free yoga classes tomorrow.” Each year on holiday weekends, the shops in town held sales and open houses, parties and shopping events and special deals. The tourists loved it. Many of them returned year after year just for the deals. And so Inner Sanctum was offering three free half-hour yoga classes starting at ten, something Emmy had conveniently forgotten sometime after her second or third tequila shot.

How on earth was she going to manage that?

Traffic was light, but every now and then a car crossed the Marion Bridge onto Harbor Street. Some stopped at the parking lot, saw the “Full” sign and turned around. Some headed straight up the hill and out of town. As they reached Inner Sanctum’s front stoop, Tony stopped and brushed the hair from Emmy’s eyes. The humidity had curled it into corkscrews and she knew it looked like a rat’s nest. Her mascara had probably started to drip down her cheeks, too. Good thing her escort wouldn’t notice or care.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to walk me home.” The lovely, tequila-aided feeling of escapism was beginning to dissipate, replaced by a throbbing headache and a vague feeling of regret. Andy was wrong, she thought. I’m feeling it right now. Forget about tomorrow morning.

“Don’t be sorry. What are friends for?”

She threw her arms around Tony as far as they would go and hugged tightly. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a dark-colored car drive by. Massachusetts plates. Mercedes. Single driver inside. The headlights cut from high to low, then back to high again, as it slowed almost to a stop.

For a crazy moment, Emmy thought Blake might be inside, but that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t be back on the island, not after midnight on a holiday weekend. And certainly not anywhere near her building. As if to confirm her thoughts, the car sped up and disappeared up the hill.

“Night, friend,” she said to Tony. “Thanks for making sure I got home.”

“You’re welcome. Drink some water, okay? Otherwise you’ll feel like hell tomorrow.”

Emmy nodded, unlocked her front door, and stumbled upstairs. She’d probably feel like hell anyway. She didn’t bother to undress or even make it to her bedroom. She just kicked off her shoes, fell onto the couch, and waited for the world to stop spinning.

Drake Isle: Blake

Who was that guy? Blake glared into his rear view mirror as he drove up Harbor Street. He couldn’t see much in the dark. He couldn’t make out the guy’s face. But he sure as hell could see the way they were holding onto each other. Was Emmy back together with her ex? Or was this a new prospect?

He curled and uncurled his fingers around the steering wheel as he approached the Drake’s Heart Inn. He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t any of his business. But somehow, stupidly, he’d gotten the impression she was single. The way that guy was looking down into her eyes and moving the hair from her face, it didn’t seem that way.

He pulled into the inn’s curved driveway and let himself out. He’d brought only a duffel bag and his briefcase, which he grabbed before locking the Mercedes and dropping the key fob into his pocket. Tilly Drake had left the porch light on, and she’d emailed instructions about the code for the keypad that would let him into the house. Inside on a table sat his room key, a handwritten welcome letter, and two blueberry muffins.

Blake grinned and swallowed one of the muffins almost whole. Nothing like island hospitality. He glanced into the other first floor rooms, a parlor with comfy loveseats overlooking the harbor and a dining room with an enormous table and ten tall chairs. A sign on the kitchen door read “Private. No Entry, Please.” The house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and he couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s breakfast.

He climbed the stairs and found his room at the top, the Cranberry Suite. It was made up of two rooms, the bedroom and a sitting room, along with a large bathroom that held a stand-alone shower and separate soaking tub. Its best feature by far, though, and the reason he’d booked it from the pictures online, was its three enormous windows. From them he could see the faint house lights on the southern end of the island, the brighter lighthouse beacon on the north end, and the stretch of flat land in between. He took off his jacket and shoes and stuck his hands in his pockets. Though it was almost one in the morning, not everyone on the island was sleeping, as evidenced by the bright lights at the school about a half-mile away.

Senior Prom, he realized after a minute. Always the day before Memorial Day Weekend, so the newly-crowned king and queen could ride on the float at the parade. Funny how being back on Drake Isle could remind him of all those old traditions. He bet the town would still hold its fishing derby tomorrow, and the old timers’ band would still play at sunset, and the shops on the landing would have free samples and open houses.

Blake stepped closer to the glass and squinted. He couldn’t make out Emmy’s building from here. Was that guy spending the night? Or was this a first date, and had he merely walked her to the door before going home? Blake’s hands tightened in his pockets. He was being unreasonable. For all he knew, the guy was a friend, or gay, or a relative in town for the weekend.

But none of those thoughts made him feel much better, and even after he climbed under the covers and sank into the king-sized feather bed, he found himself wondering when, where, and how he’d run into Emmy tomorrow. He’d come to Drake Isle under the pretense of looking at other properties, but he knew he was lying to himself.

The only thing he really wanted to look at was her.