“Miss Biddle.” Sam’s neighbor stood on the porch in a flowing leopard print tunic, black pants, and earrings that dangled halfway to her shoulders. Time had hollowed her cheekbones and aged her parchment skin.
Sam stepped out the door and let the woman embrace her. Miss Biddle’s short jet-black hair spiked out at the nape like the tail feathers of a duck.
“Samantha Owens, just look at you.” Her wrinkled hands held Sam’s as she leaned back for a better look. “My word, you’re a grownup, aren’t you?”
“With all the responsibilities that come with it.” The last time Sam had seen her, Miss Biddle was stuffing a wad of cash in her palm and telling her to take care of herself. “Come in. Meet my daughter,” Sam said loudly, remembering Miss Biddle’s hearing impairment—a residual effect of her days playing guitar in a traveling band.
“Caden, this is Miss Biddle. She lives next door.”
“Hi,” Caden said, curling on the sofa in her pj’s.
“Hi, honey.” Miss Biddle turned, the tails of her tunic swaying. “She has your beautiful hair and your mom’s petite size.” She tsked.
They caught up over a cup of coffee, and Miss Biddle filled Sam in on the details of Emmett’s death, something she could have done without. She told Sam that Emmett sold his car not long ago and had taken to riding his bike again. Sam was beginning to get antsy, when Miss Biddle announced she was late for a luncheon.
After she left, Sam cleaned up the yard, putting the old Adirondack chairs out back until she could paint them, then taking down the rose trellis in preparation to paint the house.
Later that afternoon, she found her old bike in the shed. The dark building was missing a lightbulb and had a broken doorknob—two more things for her to-do list. She repaired her old bike, pumped up the tires on Emmett’s, and rode with Caden to the grocery. Sam had cleaned out the fridge the day before, tossing the spoiled milk and moldy leftover pizza.
After they shopped, she slipped three plastic grocery bags into the bike basket and one around each of the handlebars. “You ready?” she asked Caden.
Her daughter had already hopped onto her old bike and began peddling.
“Stay on the side,” Sam called. She imagined Caden rolling her eyes. They pedaled past Cap’n Tully’s Tavern, and she wished she could pull over and lose herself in a few beers. Being back in her old house was stirring up things she’d rather forget. A few cars dotted the tavern’s parking lot, but later there would be a large Friday night crowd.
After what she’d just spent at the grocery, she had no business throwing away money on beer. They’d have to watch their pennies if they were going to stay long enough to finish the house. She’d hoped Emmett’s bank account would provide her with some fast cash, but a few calls proved him to be broke as he’d always been.
“Turn here!” Sam hollered loud enough to be heard over the wind rushing in their ears.
“I know, Mom.” Caden tossed the words over her shoulder, and Sam ignored her snippy tone. They didn’t have much time before the Realtor arrived, and she needed to get the groceries put away.
Her legs strained the last couple of miles, and she realized riding a bike involved a different set of muscles than cleaning. When they got back to the cottage, Caden helped put away the groceries, and as Sam shoved the last can of soup into the cabinet, a knock sounded on the door.
Sam swung it open, and a familiar face smiled back. In high school, everyone had liked Melanie; it was impossible not to. “Melanie Walker?”
She drew in a breath. “Samantha Owens! Oh my goodness, how wonderful to see you.” Her voice still held a Southern twang, a curiosity, as she’d been born on Nantucket, same as Sam. Melanie embraced her in the doorway.
When she pulled back, Sam invited her in and introduced her to Caden.
“I have a daughter about your age, Caden,” Melanie said. “Her name’s Amber. Maybe you can come over and visit sometime.”
Caden looked at Sam for approval.
“It would be nice for Caden to have a friend on the island.”
After her daughter went outside, Sam and Melanie turned their attention to the house.
“So you’re putting the old place up on the market, huh?” Melanie scanned the room. “The housing market is good right now, so you’re in luck.” She smiled, showing her dimples. “What have you been up to since graduation?”
Sam shrugged and smiled. “Not much really. We live in Boston. I’ve only been in town a couple of days.”
“You know, it seems like just yesterday we were all in high school, doesn’t it?” Melanie sighed, clearly favoring the good old days. Sam wouldn’t go back for anything. But Melanie always had it all together. Good grades, good girl. Not exceptionally popular, but definitely well liked. She’d dated Landon’s brother briefly during high school. She was a cheerleader then, and Bailey was the school mascot, a whaler. They only went out a couple of months, and Sam always thought they’d been too much alike to be a couple.
Melanie told her she’d been married and divorced. After they caught up, she looked around the cottage, giving Sam suggestions on fixing the place up. She noted the weathered shingles, and Sam told her painting was already on tomorrow’s to-do list. They filled out paperwork, and Melanie said she’d wait to hear from Sam before listing the house.
By the time she left, Sam had filled both sides of a sheet of paper with repair and maintenance projects. Her funds were going to be stretched, but she had some wiggle room on her credit card. If she could get the cottage into top-notch shape, it would fetch a good price, and she could pay off her card in a heartbeat. She just had to buckle down and get these projects done.
Sam looked around the quiet cottage. The sooner, the better.
Landon tossed his keys on the coffee table and poured fresh water into Max’s dish. His thoughts had been fastened on Sam all day, and the previous night he’d tossed about like a fish in the hull of a boat.
“Here you go, buddy.” Max began noisily lapping water.
Landon paced the living room. She was back on the island, two doors down, one hundred yards away. Even with twenty-four hours to absorb the shock, his mind still reeled. He thought of all the times he’d tried to find her. And she’d been only hours away. In Boston.
The phone rang, and he answered. His friend Scott greeted him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Landon asked.
Scott told him about a show he’d watched a few nights before on common foods and plants that were toxic to house pets.
While Landon listened, he sat on the sofa and pulled the curtain back, looking toward Sam’s house. All was still. He wondered if she was home. It was Friday night, so maybe she’d gone out to eat. He was the only one with no life.
“I taped it for you,” Scott was saying. “Maybe you can run it in your lobby for your clients or something.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Are you all right?” Scott asked. “You seem distracted.”
Landon weighed whether to say anything about Sam. She and Scott had a long, complicated history. But no one knew his feelings for Sam better than Scott.
“Sam’s back on the island.” The connection crackled quietly in his ear before he heard Scott’s muffled curse.
“What the—?”
Landon let the curtain fall back in place. “Emmett left the house to her. She came back to get it ready to sell.”
“Did she mention why she disappeared without a trace?”
It was only natural for Scott to be defensive. He’d helped Landon pick up the pieces when Sam left. “She’s been in Boston.” He decided not to mention Sam’s daughter.
“Is she married?” Landon wondered why Scott asked.
He stood and paced the room again. “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to her long.” Max looked at him, licking his chops.
“Whatever you do, don’t get involved with her again. You know she’s nothing but trouble.”
Landon wished he’d never mentioned Sam. Scott was incapable of being objective about her.
When Scott said he needed to go, Landon hung up and made a roast beef sandwich from the deli meat in the fridge. After that, he went outside and stood on the tiny back porch, casting glances at Sam’s house. It was hard to tell if anyone was home. The sun still shone, and the curtains in her room blocked his view, though they fluttered lightly in the breeze.
Should I stay or should I go? What if Sam was married? How would it feel to find her wrapped in another man’s arms? The thought carved a hole in the middle of his gut. She never mentioned a husband,Reed. But she hadn’t said anything about a daughter either, until Caden came running around the house.
He went back in the house and washed the utensils he’d dirtied making his sandwich. “What do you think, Max?”
The Labrador stared up at him, questioning.
Landon set the dish towel on the counter and ruffled Max’s ears. “You think I should wait until tomorrow, don’t you?”
Did Sam want him to come over? He’d tried all day to analyze her response to him the night before. Maybe he’d caught her off guard. Of course, it wasn’t like she didn’t know where to find him. Besides, he’d waited eleven long years to see her again. One more night wouldn’t kill him.