18

Ismay showered and got ready for the day before calling Remy. Although it was eight thirty in California, not all that early, she wasn’t overly optimistic that she’d be able to reach him. He usually studied until late. But she’d never answered his last text, so she was eager to talk to him. She also thought it might help keep her mind where it should be, remind herself of her commitment to him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice filled with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. Just...wanted to touch base.”

“No problem. I need to get up, anyway. How are things on Mariners?”

“Jack got in last night.”

“Great. Now both our brothers are there.”

At least he wasn’t excited about Bastian being around, either. He wanted it to be just the two of them, and she could understand why.

She thought about telling him that Bastian had tried to get into her room last night, but Bastian’s explanation was plausible enough—especially for someone who was drunk. She didn’t think her future in-laws would be pleased if she were to complain about a little drunken fumbling at her door, especially since nothing had come of it.

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll make the most of it.”

“I guess we’ll have to. No matter what happens, it’ll be better than spending more time at the library. God, I’m tired of studying.”

“You’re almost at the end of it.”

“Two more weeks of this sounds like an eternity.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“What do you have planned today?”

She thought of lunch with Honey, Bo, and Jack. But Honey’s consent wasn’t a given, and she didn’t want to saddle Remy with the worry that she might not be able to find Jack a place, so she decided not to mention it. “I’ll probably take Jack to the beach.”

She heard his alarm go off. “Must be time for you to get up.”

“Yeah. And I’m meeting a study partner, so I can’t be late.”

“Mitch?”

“Sam.”

Although lately he studied with Sam more than Mitch, Ismay had never met him. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“Have fun today.”

“I will,” she said and disconnected.

After he was gone, she remained on her bed, waiting to feel...something. That she missed him. That she couldn’t wait for him to arrive. That he cared about her. But those feelings didn’t come.

What was wrong? she asked herself. And how could she fix it?

She fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe she’d been so busy finishing school and taking the bar that she hadn’t realized how much things had changed between them. She’d accepted her own excuses—told herself that things would get better when they got out of school and started their post-grad lives together.

But if Remy was caught up in what he was doing now, it would only get worse during his residency. Those hours were notoriously long. Although she had several hard years ahead getting her practice started, his would likely be worse. At least she could set her own hours. Did she want to feel alone and neglected when she got home at night?

He was preoccupied trying to accomplish something great, she reminded herself, and that was no reason to give up on him. She wasn’t that kind of person. He said he loved her, that he needed her to be patient and support him, and she didn’t want to let him down. Once he got to the island, they’d be able to work things out.

Gathering her energy, she got up and texted Jack. You awake? How are you feeling?

She didn’t get a response, so when she came back downstairs, she told Bastian, who was hanging out on the porch wearing a tank top and swim trunks and drinking another beer, that she was going to see her brother.

“You taking the Jeep?” he asked.

Her mind raced as she paused on the steps of the porch. She didn’t need a vehicle. If she took the Jeep, where would she park it so he wouldn’t be able to see it? “I...um, no. I think I’ll walk.”

“To town? That’ll take an hour, at least.”

“I’ll call an Uber if I get tired,” she said. “Have a great day!”

The restoration company had finally come and set up some giant fans, and Bo and Jack were ripping the baseboards off the walls when Ismay reached the bungalow. She’d walked beyond the turnoff, then doubled back so Bastian wouldn’t see her heading to the caretaker’s. She didn’t think he was following her, but she thought it wise to be cautious all the same. “Wow. You guys are working already?” she said when she walked in.

“I tried to tell your brother he should spend his first day with you, going out to see the island, but he said there’d be time for that later.”

“Now is when you need me,” Jack clarified. “Ismay can show me around later. Maybe by then I’ll be better company, anyway,” he added.

“I’m not expecting you to pretend to be happy and go out with me,” Ismay said. “I know how you’re feeling. I just wanted to get you away from the situation at home.”

There was a loud popping sound as he pulled off more of the baseboard. “And I appreciate it. I just need to stay busy right now. It helps.”

Ismay indicated the growing refuse pile. “That’s a lot of trim.”

Bo tossed another piece onto the pile. “Some of the Sheetrock will have to go, too.”

“Are you going to replace it yourself or hire someone?” she asked.

“We might as well replace it ourselves,” Jack said. “Together, we can do it fairly quickly.”

Ismay rested her hands on her hips. “Since when have you done anything like this?” she asked her brother.

“Who do you think helped Dad remodel the kitchen a couple of years ago?” he asked.

“And there’s always YouTube,” Bo joked.

“Whatever the Windsors are paying you, it isn’t enough,” she told him. “Are all caretakers as capable as you are?”

He shrugged. “I like knowing I’m earning my keep.”

Trim work was specialized enough that he could easily have told Annabelle it was beyond his skill level and forced her to hire a contractor. But going above and beyond by doing the work himself seemed to be a matter of pride to Bo, which made Ismay like him all the more. He wasn’t lazy, he didn’t complain, and he didn’t think only about himself. He just stepped up and made a difference, whether that was helping to repair a house, getting a generator started for someone during a terrible storm, or letting a complete stranger stay with him.

“You’re certainly unusual,” Ismay said.

His lips slanted into a crooked grin. “I prefer to think of it as being one of a kind.”

She returned his smile. “Can I help, too?”

“You bet.” Jack pulled off his gloves and tossed them over to her. “Use these, though.”

“What will you use?” she asked.

“I know what I’m doing,” he replied, and it felt good to hear him make a joke.

“You haven’t seen what I can do yet,” she said, then helped them remove baseboards for the next two hours. The work was so laborious she was exhausted by the time they decided to stop and get showered and ready to go to Honey’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Ismay said to Bo once they were ready and walking over.

“Maybe...” He grinned, but she could tell he wasn’t entirely joking. The answer probably depended on the question.

“How does Honey know it was Remy and not Bastian who was kicking her cat?”

“Maybe they were easier to tell apart when they were younger,” he said. “I don’t know. Why?”

Because she couldn’t help thinking that it would’ve been all too easy for Bastian to say he was Remy. If twins could get away with that type of thing, they did—at least occasionally—didn’t they? Especially if it meant getting out of trouble...

When she didn’t respond right away, Bo slowed his step. “Ismay?”

She was tempted to tell him about Bastian trying to open her bedroom door in the middle of the night. She was still a little freaked out by that. But she felt she’d already done too much to pit him against his employer. She’d feel terrible if he quit his job or was fired because of her.

Besides, Jack was listening to the conversation. She didn’t see how there was anything to be gained by giving him more things to worry about, especially because Bastian’s intentions could’ve been exactly as he’d described them.

“I was just thinking,” she said. “After getting to know Bastian, I could certainly see him kicking a cat.”

Bo looked over at her in concern, and she knew it was because he’d seen the contents of that duffel bag. He knew where her mind had been going with the question about the cat. A lot of psychopaths started out by harming animals. But she shot a pointed glance toward her brother when he wasn’t looking, to let Bo know she didn’t want to bring Jack in on what she’d found in the wall of Remy’s closet, and he gave her a slight nod to signify he understood.

Honey served homemade chicken potpie that was so delicious Bo nearly moaned. He knew Honey was a good cook—she’d made him a few meals in the past—and after prison food, it didn’t take much to impress him, but this went above and beyond anything he’d ever eaten before.

Ismay must have agreed with him, because she said, “Wow! Where’d you get this recipe?”

Honey filled their glasses with more sweet tea garnished with fresh mint leaves. “Oh, that’s been in the family for generations.”

Ismay used her knife to cut a chunk of potato in half. “Is it something you’re willing to share, or—”

“Of course, I’ll share,” Honey broke in. “Good recipes are meant to be enjoyed. I’ll copy it onto a card before you go.”

“Thank you.” Ismay took another sip of her tea. “I haven’t done much cooking since I’ve been in school, but I hope I’ll have more time for it this fall. Or maybe I’ll get more serious about it this summer—if I ever get tired of reading on the beach,” she added with a laugh.

Clementine had been passing back and forth under the table while they ate. The cat wound around Bo’s leg, brushing him with her tail, but since they were in the middle of a meal, he refrained from picking her up.

“I love time-tested recipes,” Honey said as she put the pitcher down again. “But I enjoy trying new ones, too. I collect magazines for just that reason. I cut them out and paste them on a card. I have more recipes now than I know what to do with, but it’s sort of my thing to include a different one with each greeting card I send at Christmas or for birthdays or whatever—a recipe for something I think that person would particularly enjoy.”

“What a clever idea,” Ismay said.

“Does your daughter like to cook?” Bo asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Honey rolled her eyes. “Frankie orders out for every meal. I keep telling her all that rich food can’t be good for her or her family, but she won’t listen.”

Bo stabbed a piece of gravy-covered carrot, cooked to perfection, with his fork. “It’s a different era.”

“My granddaughters love to come here because I’ll actually make them a meal,” Honey said.

“I’d rather have a home-cooked meal, too,” Ismay said. “Like you, my mother is an excellent cook.”

“Maybe one or both of your granddaughters will take after you,” Bo said to Honey.

“I certainly hope so.” She turned to Jack, who hadn’t said more than a few words since they’d arrived.

“Jack, I hate to bring up a painful subject, but...I hear you’re going through a divorce.”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Love is such a two-edged sword, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I never dreamed...” he started to say but fell silent.

Bo could tell that an upwelling of emotion had tied his tongue and felt for the guy. He was liking him more all the time and felt terrible for what he was going through.

Honey must’ve heard the same thickness in his voice. Wearing a compassionate expression, she studied him for a moment. “You know, it might be hard to hear this now, but I’ve lived quite a few years longer than you have and would like to give you the benefit of my experience—if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he managed to say but his gaze lowered to his plate again.

“I went through an early divorce, too,” she said.

Jack dragged his gaze back up to her face. “You did?”

“Oh, yes. I had my oldest child and no help. I could barely eke out a living. On top of that, I thought I’d never love again. I had to take it one day at a time, but eventually those days started getting just a bit easier—and then I met my late husband. So have faith.”

“One day at a time,” he said.

She gave him a kind smile. “Yes. That divorce turned out to be the best thing for me. Maybe it’ll turn out to be the same with you. You’re clear across the country on an island you’ve never visited before. Who can say what possibilities will open to you?”

“True,” Jack responded. “But I feel like a burden, like I shouldn’t have come.”

Bo would’ve assured him, but Ismay beat him to it. “You’re not a burden!” she exclaimed.

“Your sister’s right,” Honey said. “You’ll be doing me a big favor. I wouldn’t have left the island this summer if you hadn’t come, but sometimes we have to get out of our comfort zone.”

“So you’re going to go to Pennsylvania?” Bo asked.

“I am,” she said decisively. “I figure the universe is telling me I’d be a fool to miss this opportunity to be with my family while I can still travel.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’ll leave in two weeks. That’ll give me time to make all the arrangements. And I’ll be gone at least a month, maybe two.”

“Sounds as if this summer will hold something different for all three of you,” Bo said.

Honey put down her fork and knife. “Maybe even you, Bo.”

He thought the same thing. Just having someone like Ismay around created a big change. He’d never met anyone like her. But he didn’t care to explain that, which was why he hadn’t included himself in the comment.

“Did you ever find out if the girl in that picture you showed me was the one who lost her life in that tragic fire?” Honey asked.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Bo shifted. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Ismay about the information he’d found or how he’d found it. He’d been hoping to learn more first. Not wanting the subject to become the focus of their lunch, especially given its sensitive nature, he shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I don’t know how to use a computer,” she said. “I don’t even have one. But I went over to the library this morning while I was out getting the whipping cream for our dessert and found this. I thought it might help.”

Bo could see Ismay tense as Honey got up and took her purse off the counter. She knew exactly what Honey was referring to, and he could tell it made her nervous. She’d trusted him, clearly indicated she didn’t want anyone else to know about what she’d found. But he had drawn someone else into the situation, which wouldn’t be interpreted as a good thing.

Fortunately, she remained silent. For that, he was grateful.

When Honey sat back down, she pulled a photocopy of an article out of her purse, unfolded it, and handed it to him.

At first, he thought it contained all the information he’d already found online. Who Lyssa Helberg was. What had happened to her. How hard her death had hit the entire island. But as he finished reading and looked more carefully at the picture that’d been published with it, he caught his breath. Lyssa’s casket sat in the foreground with a huge spray of flowers on top and a semicircle of funeral attendees gathered around.

And right there, in the front row, stood Bastian, Remy, and their parents.

Remy had known the girl. But in what capacity? And had he been at the party that night?

“This is great,” he told Honey. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

“Not at all. I also spoke with Ivy Hawthorne at the library about where Lyssa’s folks are living these days. Seems they moved away shortly after this tragedy, and I don’t blame them.” She pulled out another slip—one on which she’d written a name and address in her spidery script.

“They’re back in Boulder?” he said when he saw the address.

“That’s what Ivy said.”

“Did she think it was odd that you’d inquire about Lyssa all this time later?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Honey replied. “I told her you’d found a picture in a library book you wanted to return to the family, and she called a mutual friend to get permission to give me Lyssa’s father’s office address. He’s a developer in the area.”

Bo took the paper and folded it inside the article before slipping both in his back pocket.

Ismay sent him another glance. He could feel it, but he didn’t look back at her. He wanted Honey to feel her job was complete, so she’d forget about the picture and leave the rest to him.

“I’ll get it off to them,” he said as if that was that. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course.” She clapped her hands. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?”

Working. That was the only thing that helped. The sound of the hammer was more comforting than anything else, Jack thought, as he helped Bo tear out the ruined Sheetrock and replace it. The sound of the saw, which blocked out all other noise, was even better as he mitered piece after piece of baseboard so Bo could attach it to the wall.

They’d paint last. Probably tomorrow, since it was getting late. That would be a quieter job, but at least he’d still be busy. It was when he had nothing to do that the reality of his situation hit him. Then he’d ask himself what the hell he was doing clear across the country working with a dude he’d barely met to repair a storm-damaged house he’d never seen before when, just days ago, he’d been married and hoping to start a family with Ashleigh.

At lunch, the neighbor for whom he’d soon be house-sitting had suggested he’d eventually heal. But it was hard to believe that was true.

He was dying to call Ashleigh, to hear her voice. She’d been an integral part of his life for so long. But something about how she’d behaved the day she came to pick up her things stopped him. She’d asked for more of their belongings than what was fair. That showed how little she really cared about what was left of him, because she didn’t care if there was anything left for him.

At six o’clock, Bo set aside his hammer. “That’s it for the day. Let’s go to town and grab dinner. I’ll take you to my favorite place. You’ve earned it.”

The only thing Jack wanted to do was lie down and curl into a tight ball. But constantly being with Bo, who expected him to react as though he weren’t a hairsbreadth away from buckling under the pain he felt, kept him going through the motions of working, eating, showering, and attempting to sleep, even though he’d only stared at the ceiling last night. Part of him was tempted to bolt—to fly home right away. But the other part wanted to do anything except face the reality of what he’d left in Tremonton.

So he felt frozen in space and time with something terrible going through his gut. “Should I call Ismay to see if she wants to join us?” he asked.

Bo hesitated for a brief second. His reaction was subtle, but somehow—despite being so caught up in his own misery—Jack noticed. “Maybe the two of you would like to be alone,” he said. “You’ve had hardly any time together since you arrived.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to come along. She likes you. I can tell.”

“But I just remembered I have to put together some receipts and other stuff for the family who pays me, so... I’ll grab a sandwich here, and you two go out.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond. It seemed as though his suggestion that Ismay join them was what had made Bo decide not to come. But he knew Bo would deny it if he suggested she was the reason he’d changed his mind, so he simply nodded and texted his sister. We ever going to eat?

You’re already done? she wrote back. You sure you don’t want to work around the clock?

She was teasing him, trying hard to do or say anything to lift his spirits.

I’d be fine with that. It’s Bo. He’s the lightweight. ;) He was making an attempt to joke around with her like he normally would, but it was weird that something like that suddenly required effort.

This was proof she didn’t mind if Bo joined them. But Jack had no energy to cajole either one of them. He was barely handling his own problems.

He hated small talk, but meeting Remy’s brother might prove to be a good distraction—like working was. At any rate, it’d probably be better than probing what he was currently feeling, which was what would happen if they went alone.