Darby kissed me before he left, and for a moment, I imagined us on the beaches of Florida, falling in love as I was sure Bromley and Annabelle had.
“Good night, beautiful,” Darby whispered in my ear before leaving me.
I stood inside the door, listening to his steps down the wooden hallway to his place. What had we done? Opened ourselves to hurt? Or was there something here? A connection that went beyond the physical? I didn’t know.
Although late and the morning would come too soon, I decided to read just one more journal entry.
It is my second day here in Florida, and I began my day by measuring the bride-to-be. She is a slim, flat-chested young woman and has asked if I could make a dress to flatter her lack of curves. I assured her that the modern dresses with the drop waists would make her seem more substantial than she really is. I will use lace on the bodice to distract the eye from her small bosom as well.
I finished with her and went back to my room to sketch out a few designs to show her. I'd promised at least three options for her to choose from. Whatever I don't use, I'll be able to save for future brides or to use for patterns.
My stomach growled at midday, so I wandered downstairs to the dining room. Elsa, the housekeeper, had told me that breakfast and lunch were informal meals and served buffet-style so not to expect to have to sit down with the family. She'd rolled her eyes and muttered something about unruly hooligans and the beach.
Thus, I didn't expect anyone to be there when I went into the dining room. I was wrong. Bromley Hunting was already seated, facing the large picture windows that looked out to the sea.
He greeted me with a nod of his golden head. I said hello and then went to help myself to cold sandwiches set out on a tray as well as a lump of potato salad and a glass of lemonade. I would not starve here, I thought, even if the food wasn't as good as Lizzie's.
I joined him at the table. "I'm sorry to have missed dinner last night," I said. "But I was tired from my journey and happy to have something in my room."
His blue eyes sparkled at me from across the table. "I'm sorry you weren't there. You may have saved us from a family fight."
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry." A family fight? What did these people have to fuss about? They were rich and lived by the sea.
"My niece and her mother don't always agree about the wedding plans." He lifted his sandwich and took a bite from the corner. "I'm beginning to regret my extended stay." He explained that he'd come for six months. “I needed to get away for a while. You know, the nasty end of my marriage and all.”
"Where do you live when you’re not here at the beach?” I asked.
"I'm up north. In Boston. Most of the time."
"That's where I grew up as well." I told him of my childhood in south Boston and the move to Colorado when I was in my late teens. "My sister had married a man with five children and sent for Mother and me. We were very poor. Quinn, my sister, went out there to teach school and save our family. My father had died, leaving us in dire trouble."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
We reminisced about Boston for a few minutes, then moved on to what life was like in Colorado. "My husband was already there when I arrived," I explained, before describing the butcher shop he runs with his brother. "It's a simple life but a good one. We've only just built a new house. The one of my dreams."
"Because of your business?" Bromley asked. "You've been very successful. I’ve learned just how much since we met yesterday.”
"It was the patterns that did it mostly," I said. "I can only sew at a certain pace, but they allow me to sell my product to more people."
"Very smart business mind, I see." He possessed qualities that made me nervous. I couldn’t quite understand it, other than the way he peered at me with those intense eyes. I had the feeling not much got past him. He saw everything.
I tried to imagine what his former wife was like but couldn’t summon anything. Who had enticed her away from him? “What are your interests?" I picked up my lemonade, careful to keep it between my fingers instead of sliding away and spilling, or God forbid, breaking the glass.
"I like to practice medicine and help people. I enjoy golf and swimming in the ocean and listening to music. Anything outdoors is of great interest to me."
“And your wife didn’t share your interests?” I asked.
“She preferred everything shiny. Balls and dances and nightclubs. The man she left me for is much better suited to her.” He looked out to the ocean, seeming to drift far away from me for a moment. “She was always looking for a party.” He turned back to me. “Don’t pity me, Mrs. Higgins. I’m better off without her. The embarrassment of it all seems to be the gift that continues, however.”
"How often do you come here?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Usually in the winter when Boston is miserable. I've made myself useful here, offering my medical services for free to anyone who requires help."
“Why would you do such a thing?" I asked this not in an accusatory tone but one of true curiosity.
"Do you see all this?" He waved his hand about. "I did nothing to earn it other than to be born into a family of great wealth. I've found that I crave significance, not because I'm rich but because I have skills that help people.”
“What about your practice in Boston? Do you have a partner?”
“I do. A family man who prefers to be at home. When I'm here in Florida, he takes care of our patients, such that they are."
"What do you mean?"
"We only provide care to the wealthy. House calls—even in the middle of the night, I might be called to care for someone. It's fine, but I like to be of use to those who really need us for at least part of the year."
"That's very noble of you."
"Do you think so, Mrs. Higgins? Because I think it's only a selfish need on my part to feel as if my life means something."
"Surely it does." We locked eyes for a moment, and an understanding passed between us. "I have my work, which keeps me apart from a lot of other women in my town. And I have no children. Without them, what significance do I make?"
"Your business? You’ve done a remarkable thing, building it to such a scale.”
"My sister has seven children, and I often think how much more she's doing to make the world more beautiful than I."
"Why don't you have children?" Bromley asked. “Was it a choice?”
"They've never come," I said flatly. "Perhaps God knows I'm too selfish and ambitious to have them?"
"Doubtful. More likely, it's a medical reason."
I flushed, shamed. There was nothing worse than knowing I was flawed somehow. That other women could get pregnant without trouble and I was barren year after year.
"I'm sorry," Bromley said. "I've hurt you. That was a thoughtless thing to say."
"No, it's quite all right. I'm sensitive about it, that's all."
"My apologies. My sister-in-law says I have no bedside manner."
"I'm sure that's not true." I smiled back at him. "And no apology necessary."
We finished our sandwiches, talking about our lives and getting to know each other better.
"What about you?" I asked. "Did you and your wife have children?"
Another shadow passed through his face. "I wanted to but it was not to be.” He looked back at me, a blankness in his eyes I hadn't yet seen. "I wonder sometimes if we had—if it might have changed the outcome of our marriage.”
"You can’t know, I suppose. Perhaps it would have made everything more painful." I couldn't believe we were talking as if we’d known each other for a long time. He felt close to me, much more than our brief encounters would suggest it should.
“In hindsight, it probably would have. Then, I would be mourning the loss of her and a child I loved. And the man who stole my wife would have stolen my son and daughter as well.”
For some reason, we started to laugh. Completely inappropriately, I might add. But the giggles had taken control of us and wouldn't let go.
Finally, I wiped my eyes with the handkerchief I kept in my pocket. "We are bad people."
He sobered and wiped his own eyes. “Perhaps we are. But not bad enough. I would love to be the type of man who would suggest a love affair with a beautiful dress designer but alas, after being the one who was left, I can never do that to another man.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
“I’m joking, of course,” he said.
“Yes, of course.”
His words touched me in a strange way, a way that made me feel as if I might catch fire. I'd never felt such a thing before in my life.
"Would you care to take a stroll along the beach?" Bromley asked. "I can show you where my favorite birds reside."
"I'll have to get my hat," I said. "The sun, you know."
"Make it a wide-brimmed one."
The passage ended there. How could she leave me with such a cliffhanger? But I was yawning like my head might break in two and knew I needed to sleep. The journal would have to wait until tomorrow.
* * *
I went to bed and woke the next morning excited for the day. Darby would be at the inn later, and I’d get to see him. To my surprise, I found Arianna Bush waiting for me.
She was standing at the front desk talking to one of my staff but straightened when I came in through the front door.
“Jamie, I’m sorry to bother you, but I had an idea.” Her eyes sparkled almost as bright as her enormous diamond. “My Rob surprised me and is in town early. He said he could work just as easily here as at home. He may have been just a teensy bit worried when I told him Darby was here. And that’s just the thing that gave me the idea. I’d really like to see Darby and tell him how sorry I am, and that I hope we can be friends, and that he and Rob can find their way together again. Rob wouldn’t have to be jealous if he saw how happy you and Darby are together. We could go to dinner together, all four of us. What do you think?”
Dinner? The four of us? The idea almost made me laugh, but I kept it together. “I’d have to check with Darby. I’m not sure how he’d feel about all of this.”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s so awkward, this whole thing, and I figured it would be better to address it head-on. That’s my way, you know. I see a problem and just have to fix it.”
“Sure. Like I said, I’ll ask Darby when he comes by after school.”
She tented her hands and looked as if she might say something else but didn’t.
“All right, well, I should get to work,” I said. “I’ll give you a call later.”
“Wonderful.” She gave me one of her influencer smiles and sailed out the door. I watched as she got into her red sports car. What was I doing wrong? Slaving away at an inn when I could have done makeovers on TikTok and become an influencer, and then I’d be driving around in a red sports car instead of trudging into my office.
* * *
At lunch, I read the last entry in Annabelle’s journal, forgetting all about the sandwich I’d made.
The morning of my departure I went down the spiral staircase to the foyer where my bags were waiting to be loaded into the car. My chest ached so much I could barely breathe. Mrs. Hunting and her daughter were there to say goodbye, each of them hugging me and thanking me for making such beautiful pieces for the wedding. Cordelia’s eyes grew glassy as she kissed my cheek. "Thank you for everything."
“You’re very welcome,” I said.
Just then, Bromley appeared, his driving gloves in hand. "I'm driving you to the train station," he said. "I have errands to do in town anyway."
"How kind of you." My pulse quickened. Alone with him in a car seemed dangerous. Not because of the driving but my desires. He would sit only inches from me. I had not seen this coming. Yet I knew I wanted to say goodbye. To remind myself and him of our decision.
We didn't speak on the way to the train station. The top was down on his car, and the wind blew the ribbons of my hat this way and that, tickling the sides of my face. When we reached the station, he took my bag from the back of the car and then came around to help me to the ground. It was a relatively mild day for Florida and a slight breeze cooled the bare skin of my arms and face.
"It seems there's always more I want to say to you," Bromley said. "But we've run out of time."
"Yes, we have." A painful lump in the back of my throat threatened to suffocate me. A life without him, that’s what I must accept. "I'll never forget you."
"Nor I you," he said. The straw material of his hat gave his skin a lattice pattern. "If only we had two lives."
"I'd choose at least one of them to live with you." Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. "This is silly, isn't it? We've known each other for two weeks."
"Not long enough to upend our lives?"
"It's Clive. He deserves better than betrayal. And I love him.”
He nodded. "Yes, I know. I would never ask you to betray him. You know that.”
“I do,” I said.
“Even though it’s killing me to send you away.”
"Well, this is it." The train was pulling into the station. From then on, the sound of the steam engine and clanking of metal brought me back to this moment. To the afternoon I had to say goodbye to my Bromley. The man I'd fallen in love with.
I lifted my cheek. "You may kiss my cheek before I leave.”
He scooped under the brim of my enormous hat and brushed his lips against my skin. I caught the spicy scent of him, a mixture of cigar smoke and leather. The smell of a man, I thought. My man. No. My man waited for me in the foothills of our town.
"Goodbye, Bromley Hunting."
"Goodbye, Annabelle. Have a good life. Do what we’ve talked about. Everything you want, you can have." His voice caught at the end, and he waved his hand in front of his face. I gave him one last squeeze.
Not everything, I thought as I turned away and headed toward the train that would take me home. For we cannot live two lives, only one. We must make choices of which way to go. Stay or go. I had to go, of course. My sweetheart, the man who had loved me when I was young and foolish, waited for me there. And I could not break his heart.
I shut the journal and swiveled in my chair to look out the window. Now that I had read to the end, I knew it was time for me to deliver this to the Barnes family. It belonged to them more than to me. The Barnes roots in this town went way back. Trapper’s family were direct descendants of Alexander Barnes. Mr. Barnes had taken on the role of family historian, keeping journals and letters safe at his house. He would want to see all of this right away.
After a quick phone call to Mr. Barnes and an explanation of what I’d found, he asked if I could bring it out right away. The excitement in his voice was contagious. The staff could handle everything for a few minutes without me, I decided.
I parked in Mr. Barnes’s driveway, admiring the mums in the pots displayed attractively on the porch. This was the original Barnes estate where Alexander and Quinn had raised their seven children. I stood at the bottom step for a moment, contemplating what it must have been like to live back then. How I wished I could go back in time.
Mr. Barnes answered right away and ushered me into the house and back to the kitchen that looked out on the lawn. If I remembered correctly, this room had originally been the formal parlor, and the kitchen was downstairs. But it was all modern now with an exquisite remodel that included a gorgeous white-and-blue kitchen.
“My wife’s out this morning, but she left some lunch for us. Do you want a piece of quiche?”
On cue, my stomach growled. I’d been so anxious to talk to Mr. Barnes I’d forgotten to eat my sandwich I’d brought from home.
“I’d love one.”
He hustled around putting two pieces on plates and pouring glasses of lemonade before joining me at the island. “I’m dying to see what you found,” he said.
I let him look through the box while I ate the delicious quiche. “Nice crust,” I murmured under my breath.
“Old recipe left from Lizzie Strom,” Mr. Barnes said.
My friend Brandi was a direct descendent of the original cook and butler of this home. She’d told me they’d found some of Lizzie’s letters and learned a lot of interesting things.
“Annabelle Cooper Higgins,” Mr. Barnes said. “Strangely enough, we know less about her than we do anyone, given that she was kind of famous.”
“Whatever happened to her, I wonder?” I told him what we’d learned so far. “All we know is that she fell in love with a man who was not her husband.”
“I’ll be darned.”
“We’re assuming she stayed with Clive Higgins,” I said. “But I don’t know what happened. There’s not much to the journal, so I’m not sure we’ll get many answers.”
“Hang on a minute. Let me get something.” Mr. Barnes, not having touched his quiche, got up and disappeared down the hallway. By the time he returned, I’d finished my delicious lunch.
He carried a manila folder with him. “This is what I have of family death and birth certificates. Marriage licenses too,” he said, setting it on the table. “Let’s see what I can find for Annabelle.”
He riffled through the papers, muttering to himself. “Nothing in here. Let me get the family Bible. They recorded things like that in those days.”
He scurried off again and returned with a tattered leather-bound Bible. “Yes, here she is.” He showed it to me. Annabelle Cooper’s date of birth was listed, as was Quinn’s. “This was the Coopers’ Bible,” Mr. Barnes explained. “Their mother brought it with them when they moved here from Boston.”
I looked down the list. “Here it is,” I said, pointing to the entry with Annabelle and Clive’s wedding date. But they were not mentioned again. “Clive died in 1936,” I said. “I wonder if she remarried after his death?”
“I didn’t know much about her,” he said. “She’s the one member of the family I haven’t been able to learn much about. She had a child in 1925 who only lived a few months. As far as I can tell, she spent most of her time and efforts into her business.”
“How sad. It must have been heartbreaking to lose a child after trying for so long.”
“Yes, although sadly, a lot of women lost babies in those days.”
I nodded, my heart aching at the thought of Annabelle’s lost child.
“She moved away from here sometime after Clive’s death in 1936 but returned later. I’m not entirely sure when. Regardless, I think she owned the house all that time but may not have lived there. Let me look through what I have from Quinn and see if there are any clues in there.” His eyes gleamed. “Do you mind leaving this with me?”
“Technically, it belongs to your family,” I said. “I’ve been having fun reading the entries and am intrigued by the mystery, but I wanted you to have it.”
“Tell you what—give me a day or two with this and I’ll see what else I can dig up. It may give us more questions than less after we make our way through the journal and letters.”
“I hope not. I like to know how a story ends, don’t you?”
“Very much so. But I’ve discovered as I try to piece together my family’s history that there are some things we will not ever know.”
I said goodbye then, knowing I needed to get back to the inn. He promised to call if he found anything interesting.
I could hardly wait. This was better than a favorite television show.
* * *
I let Darby work for an hour that afternoon before I went out to greet him and ask him about this double date idea of Arianna’s. Whatever he wanted was fine with me. I had a feeling it would be too painful to have dinner with his former friend and girlfriend. However, I was curious to meet this millionaire Rob, stealer of girlfriends. I’d simply tell him her request and be sure not to give away my own desire to accept their offer.
I brought him a cold glass of lemonade when I went out to the construction area. It was a warm afternoon, and he was working in a short-sleeved shirt and faded jeans. A baseball hat covered his head and protected his face from sunburn, and a leather work belt hung low around his hips. Today he was working on the platform part of the gazebo. I watched him for a moment. He was leaning over a section, hammer in his hand and several nails between his teeth. Such nice teeth, all straight and white. Sexy, sexy, sexy.
He straightened as I approached and dropped the hammer, which hit the side of his foot. If it hurt, he didn’t say so. “Hey there,” he said, still holding the nails in his mouth.
“Hey.” Why did I feel suddenly shy and tongue-tied and about thirteen? I hadn’t felt that way last night when he was kissing me, now had I? Warmth spread throughout my body just thinking of his kisses.
Darby stuffed the nails into his work belt and nodded toward the glass in my hand. “Is that for me?”
I handed it to him. “I thought you might be thirsty. It’s warm today.”
“That’s sweet of you, and I am thirsty.” He took a swig from the glass, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before taking off his hat and laying it on top of the pile of wood. I could see him as a boy just then, bashful and a little nerdy. I would’ve had a crush on him, I felt certain. Unfortunately, the way sweat dampened his dark hair and chest muscles showed through his T-shirt, I was developing one right at this minute. Or was it more than that?
“Why is it that everything you make is better than anything else I’ve ever had? You have the magic touch,” Darby said. “This is great lemonade—perfect balance of sweet and tart.”
I didn’t want to ruin his opinion by telling him we used concentrate from a can to make our pitchers for the guests. If he thought I had magical ways, then so be it. But I must remember why I was here. “So, Arianna stopped by this morning.”
His expression darkened. He picked up his hat and stuffed it back on his head. “What did she want? Let me guess. She’s changed her mind about something.”
“No, not that. She wondered if we wanted to go on a double date.”
“You’re kidding?” His eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and amazement.
“Not kidding. She thought it would be healing. Or burying the hatchet. Something like that.” I moved closer, taking his empty glass. “It’s totally fine—whatever you feel comfortable with. I’m there for you either way.”
“We’ll have to play up being a couple,” he said at last.
“Yes. We might need to share more information about our lives,” I said. Was that just an excuse to spend more time with him? I didn’t know, and at the moment I didn’t care.
“Do you think we should do it? Have dinner with them, I mean.” His gaze fixed on me, his eyes earnest and trusting. He truly wanted my opinion.
I would tread carefully. Whatever he chose, it should be because he was 100 percent sure, not because of my influence either way. “Depends. What would you get out of it? Or, what would you want out of it?”
A flash of humor sparked in his eyes. “Revenge?”
I laughed. “That’s good enough reason for me.”
He sobered and looked up at the sky. The late-afternoon sun sent slivers of gold through the trees. “I would like her to think I’m doing well, I guess. Both of them. That I didn’t sit around crying from their betrayal. Even though I did.”
I wanted to reach for him and fold him into my arms. I hadn’t known a man, not even my brother, to be as honest about his feelings as Darby was. It touched me and endeared him to me in a way that felt sticky. The kind of affection that lasts through time and space. “They don’t ever need to know how hard it was for you. We can pretend we’re happy and in love and you can politely let them know you’re thrilled with the way things turned out. That without her choice, you wouldn’t have found me.”
He nodded, seeming to think through what I said and coming to the conclusion that I was right. “Yes, let’s do it. We can get together later and talk through some of our past. Facts and all that. Knowing Arianna, she will grill us and want to know every detail. Any crack in our story and she’ll find it.”
“What if they want to go to the lodge for dinner?” I blurted out. “I can’t afford that kind of meal.”
“Nor I.”
“I could offer to cook,” I said. “Really show off my cooking skills.”
He gave me a gentle, grateful smile. “You’re a good one, Jamie Wattson. The type of friend a guy like me needs in his corner.”
“I’m here for you. I hope you know that.” A friend? Why did that word suddenly taste bad in my mouth?
“I’m grateful,” Darby said.
“Did you ever see those pictures in children’s magazines that ask what isn’t like the others?”
“Sure.”
“I think we’re like that. All our friends are happily in love and starting their lives together. We’re lone wolves, so to speak.”
“Not tomorrow night, we won’t be,” he said. “Tomorrow we’re a pack.”
I liked the sound of that. Pack had potential. Packs were family, connected forever.