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Lola and Tommy spent the better part of the morning and afternoon in that sun-kissed hospital room, digging into conversation with the wise and beautiful Beatrice and finding new ways to cope in the wake of the horrible thing this stranger had done. Mid-afternoon, Tommy admitted that he had to head down to the docks to meet with several sailing students, which pushed Beatrice to confess that she was terribly exhausted and needed a few hours to rest.
“I’m sure they won’t keep me here much longer,” she added.
“Oh! Before we go, we should call the Katama Lodge and explain that you need a bit more time before the interview,” Lola cried, drawing her phone from her pocket.
“Let me, honey.” Beatrice ruffled through her purse to find her address book, an old-fashioned thing, grabbed the phone by the bedside table and called the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa. The sharp gashes on her arm caught the sunlight and played in contrast to how sure of herself she sounded on the phone. “Hello. Good afternoon, Mallory. My name is Beatrice Cunningham. Curious if I could speak to Janine Grimson? Thank you.”
Tommy and Lola waited with bated breath as Beatrice explained the dynamics of her current situation and explained that she could “probably” come into the Lodge the following week sometime, as she planned to be on the island for the better part of the month for her great-nephew’s wedding. “That’s right. Tommy Gasbarro! You know him?” Beatrice’s eyes glittered as she continued to converse with Janine. “He is quite handsome, isn’t he? He and Lola make the perfect pair.”
When Beatrice got off the phone, she placed it delicately back in its bedside cradle, lifted her chin, and said, “That’s settled. Janine passes on her regards. Apparently, the two of you are quite famous here on the island. Tommy, you always said you didn’t want anything to do with people or building a community. What happened?”
Tommy’s laughter was uproarious. He drew his arm across Lola’s shoulders and draped her against him. “You know what I’ve learned since spending more time in one place, Aunt B? People can change.”
“They certainly can,” Beatrice affirmed, snapping a finger against the small point of her nose. “You kids run out there, now. Leave this old woman in peace.”
**
TOMMY DROPPED LOLA off at the Sunrise Cove Inn before he headed for the Edgartown docks, where Tommy planned to teach sailing lessons. Lola kissed him adoringly, her eyes closed, then leaned back to gaze at his tanned face and broad shoulders. She couldn’t tell him over and over again how handsome he was, could she? It was too much.
“I’m just so glad she’s okay,” Lola breathed.
“Me too.” Tommy shook his head delicately. “I can’t believe she never mentioned she was coming into town early.”
“She sounds like she’s a woman on the brink of building a brand-new life,” Lola countered. “She probably didn’t want anyone’s advice yet.”
“And now, she’s locked away in a hospital bed.”
“That isn’t her fault.”
“Didn’t you say that Sam saw the license plate?” Tommy asked.
“He sure did, and he gave it to the police,” Lola told him. “I wonder what’s going on with that.”
“Check, will you?”
Lola agreed. She then stretched herself over the middle of the truck and kissed him a final time before whispering, “I swear to God, Tommy, you’d better drive safe.”
Lola slid out of the truck and headed for the front desk of the Sunrise Cove. The walk from the street in front of it, through that glorious old-fashioned front door, was a walk she’d performed upward of a million times. If she gave herself permission for a split second, she could imagine that Anna Sheridan, her mother, would appear at the front desk, ready with a big platter of cookies or a hug.
Instead, Sam and Amanda peered back from the other side of the desk. Their eyes were enormous, proof they were still shellshocked from the accident the night before.
“How are you holding up, you two?” Lola asked tenderly, dropping her elbows on the front desk.
“It’s good to be here. It keeps our minds off of everything,” Amanda returned. “How is Aunt Beatrice? I can’t believe she was that woman in the other car.” Her eyes became stormy, dipping back into the memories from the previous night.
“She’s doing just fine,” Lola returned. “I’d never met her before, but she seems like a spitfire if I ever met one. She’s in her sixties, but her mind is sharp as a tack.”
Amanda’s smile widened.
“Does she remember the accident?” Sam asked.
“No. Nothing at all,” Lola affirmed. “Which is probably for the best.”
“Yeah. It’s still weird to have lost this huge chunk of time, though,” Sam countered.
“Mom!” Audrey appeared in the hallway between the Sunrise Cove Bistro and the Sunrise Cove Inn itself, carrying little Max in her arms and jumping around excitedly. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
Lola stretched her arms out to little Max, cradling the toddler against her as he buzzed his lips.
“You’ve been at the hospital all this time?” Audrey asked, her hand wrapped tenderly around Max’s right foot.
“Yes. Aunt Beatrice is doing all right. But seeing her like that, all banged up, has me even angrier than I was before.” Lola swallowed the lump in her throat and then asked, “Sam, you said you gave the license plate number to the police. Have you checked up on that?”
“Not yet,” Sam told her. “I don’t want to pressure them.”
Lola’s laughter was dark and gritty. “I’ve been a journalist for more than twenty years. I know how to put pressure on people to get the information I need.”
“You sound terrifying, Mom,” Audrey shot back.
“Audrey. You’re a budding journalist in your own right. You know exactly what I mean.”
Audrey nodded, her smile fading. “I know.”
A little while later, Christine appeared at the Sunrise Cove carrying a little Mia across her chest. Zach hustled out from the Bistro kitchen to greet his baby and lifted a hand to the other Sheridan Crew. His cheeks were blotchy from the heat of the kitchen.
At their corner table, Lola sipped a glass of Riesling and tilted her head, watching the ease with which Christine and Zach now conversed with one another. Zach’s hand-stretched across Mia’s head as his thumb traced the dark strands of her hair. Could Tommy and I ever...
But no. Audrey was the only daughter she’d ever needed. If she and Tommy had a child (not that they’d discussed it in any concrete way), their lives would shift forever— and not always in the best of ways. The Tommy Gasbarro she knew and loved could sail off to glorious Caribbean islands at a moment’s notice. With Lola becoming a Gasbarro herself, she had a right to a seat on that sailboat. She had a right to the adventurous world of Tommy’s life.
But a baby of their own. Tommy as a father. Audrey’s father had taken off just as soon as he’d gotten enough money around. They hadn’t heard from him much at all since Audrey had been a toddler. Good riddance.
“Where’d you go?” Audrey asked, snapping a finger in the air to yank her mother back to reality.
Lola forced a smile and refocused her attention. Amanda, seated to the left of Audrey, had her fists against her cheeks and glared down at her untouched glass of wine.
“Amanda,” Lola began tentatively, drawing her hand across Amanda’s elbow.
Amanda jumped slightly, her eyes large, proof that she’d been somewhere far away.
“Why don’t I call the police, now? See what’s up with the license plate?”
“That would be fantastic,” Amanda breathed.
Lola nodded, drawing her cell from her purse and dialing the local police station. The front desk secretary greeted her primly, sounding over-important.
“Hello, Oak Bluffs Police Station. This is Connie speaking.”
“Hi, Connie. I wondered if you could help me out with something. My niece was involved in a hit-and-run accident last night on State Road. Her boyfriend, one of the drivers, was able to give the license plate number of the vehicle that left the scene to the officers. We’re curious if anything came of that.”
“Came of what?”
Lola rolled her eyes into the back of her head. Was this woman dense, or what? “Curious if the police were able to locate the owner of the vehicle. A Chevy Cavalier, I believe.”
Amanda nodded furiously.
Connie chewed gum into the phone speaker. “I don’t believe you’re at liberty to ask such a question.”
Lola’s cheeks burned red with anger. “I’m a prominent journalist across New England. I believe it’s standard to release such information to the public. If it’s not common practice at your station, I’d be happy to write an article on the subject.”
Connie muttered something Lola couldn’t fully understand before hollering back into the belly of the station about “some woman who wanted information on the hit-and-run case.”
As she’d half-expected, Lola knew the cop in charge of the case itself. His name was Freddie, and she’d gone to school with him at Oak Bluffs High more than twenty years ago.
“Freddie! It’s been ages. How’s your family?” Lola began joyously, taking over the conversation the way she’d learned to back in her early journalist days.
“Lola Sheridan. It’s been, what, six months? I heard about your new claim to fame as director of Martha’s Vineyard plays and musicals.”
“Just the one musical so far, Freddie. I think my thespian days are through.”
“Sad to hear.” Freddie’s voice bounced around. He was clearly happy to hear from her. “Connie said something about the hit-and-run case from last night?”
“Yes. My niece was involved, and her boyfriend managed to pass along the license plate information. Have you been able to track that plate?”
Freddie heaved a sigh into the speaker. Lola furrowed her brow. This didn’t sound good.
“We did, yes,” Freddie continued. “First thing this morning. Unfortunately, that particular Chevy Cavalier was reported as stolen from a Boston area family a little more than a week ago.”
“Stolen.” Lola’s heartbeat pumped in her ears. “No wonder they drove away quickly.”
“We thought the same. It’s not the sort of thing a typical islander would do, that’s for sure. Now we have the task of watching hours and hours of CCTV footage from the ferries between Woods Hole and Oak Bluffs, trying to find the vehicle involved.”
“Good idea,” Lola said.
“But the angle of the camera is a bit strange. And the vehicle count is, of course, in the thousands. It’ll be easy to miss,” Freddie told her. “On the one hand, we’re on an island, which means that it should be easier to track down whoever did this. On the other hand, if someone wants to stay hidden, we can’t very easily drag them out of nowhere.”
“I hear you, Fred.” Lola dropped her gaze to her newly painted fingernails, which flashed deep red in the sunlight. “Keep me updated if anything changes.”
“Sure will.”
Lola returned her cell to her purse and blinked back up to Amanda, whose face was scrunched up like a pug’s.
“Doesn’t sound good,” Amanda tried.
“Whoever caused this accident isn’t exactly winning any awards in community service,” Lola returned with a shrug.
“You’re kidding.”
Lola’s stomach twisted into a knot. “All we can focus on right now is this: you and Sam are healthy. Beatrice is on the mend. New cars can be purchased.”
“I know that you’re right,” Amanda groaned. “I just hate that someone might get away with this.”
“The story’s not over yet,” Lola told her. “If you’d seen what I’d seen over the past twenty-some years of working in journalism, you’d know that at any time, the story could explode into something totally different. Just wait.”