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A gray-haired grandmother of five smiled up at Molly from the floor. Agnes was still fully reclined on her mat, looking refreshed and relaxed. “That was great, Molly. My hips feel so much better since I started coming here.”
“I’m glad you made it out today, Agnes.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Especially now that all the kiddies are back in school.” Agnes rolled onto her side, then gently eased her body into a sitting position. She’d had surgery three months ago, but you’d never know to look at her now.
Though she’d been the first up from the floor, Jennifer waited until all the others had left before she approached Molly.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
“Can you stay for a cup of tea?”
Jennifer’s cheeks, already rosy, seemed to go hotter. “Not today. Sorry.”
“Errands?”
“Um…” Jennifer fussed with the zipper on her sweatshirt.
“Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“No. No.”
Molly followed her friend out of the renovated garage to the garden. Across the street the Kincaid’s beautiful Victorian home was a familiar, benevolent presence. Molly waved at Justine Kincaid who was sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair. It looked like she was nursing six-month-old Erica. The two of them were alone this week, as Harrison had taken his daughter Autumn to Seattle for the week.
Molly focused on Jennifer again. Sometimes a blunt question was the only way to find out what you wanted to know. “So why can’t you stay for tea?”
Jennifer’s gaze shifted to the side. “It’s just that I have this new guest who wants a tour of the island.”
“I hope you’re charging for your services.”
Jennifer looked at her blankly.
“Come on, Jenn. If you’re going to give up an entire afternoon to show this guest around the island, you ought to be properly reimbursed for your time.”
Jennifer was still staring at her as if she were speaking in a foreign language. “I never even thought of charging him.”
Him. Suddenly Molly saw the situation in a new light. “How old is he, Jenn? Is he cute? Is he single?”
As she peppered questions at her friend, Jennifer’s cheeks grew brighter than ever. Molly grinned. This was great. Jennifer was going out with a guy.
And speaking of the guy, this must be him now, driving up in a dilapidated-looking Land Rover. Molly had an indistinct glimpse of a dark-haired man with a lean face. Then he jumped out of the driver’s seat and headed toward them.
“Oh, he is cute, Jenn. Yum. He doesn’t have a friend or a brother, does he?”
“Molly, it isn’t like that,” Jenn insisted. Yet, her color wasn’t settling down as the man approached.
He was dressed in hiking boots, shorts and a light gray T-shirt. As he drew closer, Molly frowned. He reminded her of someone.
As soon as he spoke, she remembered.
“How was the class, Jennifer? I hope you aren’t too tired for our tour?”
Jennifer said something in reply, but Molly didn’t hear her. She backed up until she felt the solid wall of her house behind her. Oh my God, she couldn’t believe this.
Nick Lancaster. This could not be coincidence. How had he managed to track her to Summer Island?
“THE CLASS WAS GREAT, NICK. Molly’s an excellent instructor.” Jennifer looked around and was surprised to realize she was now alone in the front yard.
“Molly?” The front door of the cottage was closed. Maybe Molly didn’t want to be a third wheel…
Jennifer nearly groaned, remembering Molly’s teasing. This wasn’t a date, she’d told her friend, but she wasn’t sure if Molly had believed her.
It isn’t a date, she reminded herself, as Nick moved a little closer. She slipped a hoodie over her tank top, waiting as he checked out Molly’s house.
“Why did your friend run inside like that?”
“I’m not sure. I was hoping to introduce you.”
“Have you known her a long time?”
“About two years. She moved here from Toronto after her mother died.”
“Her mother’s dead?”
“Yes.” Now why would he have asked that? “She has no family at all anymore.”
Nick’s expression grew thoughtful. “Summer Island is a long way from Toronto. Why do you suppose she moved here? Did she know anyone?”
“No, but I’m sure glad she did. She’s become one of my best friends. Hopefully you’ll get a chance to meet her another time.”
“I hope so, too.”
Jennifer glanced back at Molly’s house. It was strange the way she’d disappeared so quickly. But maybe she’d been tired. This had been her third class today.
“So are you ready?” Nick asked.
“Sure.”
On the way to the Rover, Nick caught sight of the Kincaids’ summer home across the street. Justine had been out on the porch earlier, but she and the baby must have gone inside.
“Wow. That’s a nice looking place.”
“Yeah, it is.” Jennifer hesitated. So many visitors came to Summer Island hoping to get a glimpse inside Simone DeRosier’s old summer home that she’d learned to be reticent about pointing it out. But Nick wasn’t just another visitor. “Harrison and Justine Kincaid live there.”
“Harrison Kincaid. Wasn’t he Simone’s husband?”
“Yes.” Jennifer walked around him to the Rover, and after a pause, Nick followed. Once they were both seated, he seemed in no hurry to get moving.
“Didn’t they have a daughter? She would be, what—six or seven?”
“Autumn’s eight now. She’s thrilled about her new sister. Justine had a baby girl this spring.”
“Yes. I’d heard that. You know there’s a rumor going around that Autumn has inherited her mother’s voice.”
Where would he have heard that? Harrison and Justine usually did an excellent job of keeping Harrison’s daughter out of the public eye. Nevertheless, Nick was right. Autumn was tremendously talented. “She’s a natural singer and musician. But Harrison won’t allow her to perform in public. She’s still very young.”
Nick turned back for a final glance at Molly’s house. He seemed about to ask another question, but apparently changed his mind. He started the engine. “So. Where to first?”
Jennifer felt a thrill of anticipation. It was a sunny, warm day, chock-full of possibilities. “I think we should park at Pebble Beach and walk to town. I can fill you in on the island history on the way.”
“Okay. You’re the tour leader.”
Nick smiled at her, and Jennifer felt the effect right down to the tips of her toes. Maybe this wasn’t a date, but she was looking forward to being with Nick. Until it was time to go home and prepare afternoon tea, she was going to pretend she was a young woman without a care in the world.
She directed Nick to Pebble Beach where they parked, then headed straight for the ocean. The beach was strangely deserted for such a fine day. Of course, vacation season was now over and kids were back at school.
As they walked, their shoes crunched on the tiny rocks. “I see why you call this Pebble Beach.”
“We don’t have sandy shorelines on the island. In a way that’s a good thing, because it’s helped keep the tourists away. That, plus the complicated ferry system.”
“I visited Saltspring Island once many years ago. From what I’ve seen so far this island is quite different.”
“We have similar topography and weather, but that’s where it ends. Ask any local—Saltspring is exactly what we don’t want to be.”
“Why not? It’s very popular.”
“Sure. And I like to visit Saltspring, too. In fact, I sell my lavender products through one of the crafts-women there. But Summer Island is just more…real. We aren’t overrun with tourists and artists and back-to-nature types.”
“You don’t like tourists and artists and back-to-nature types?”
His teasing smile gave her that light-headed feeling again. “I don’t have a problem with them. It’s just that they can squeeze out the locals. Most of the people on our island were born here and live here year-round. They’re fishermen and farmers and they don’t want yuppies coming from the city and clogging our little town with specialty coffee shops and upscale hardware stores.”
“So is it an us against them mentality?”
“A little bit,” she admitted.
“What about your friends? Harrison Kincaid lives in Seattle, doesn’t he? And Simone wasn’t a full-time resident, either.”
She laughed. “I don’t make full-time residency a condition for my friendship.” They were on the boardwalk now, the ocean to their right as they headed toward Cedarbrae. How had they ended up talking about her friends again?
She had so many questions to ask him. Last night they’d talked about travels, but nothing personal. She wanted to know everything there was to know about Nick Lancaster. “How long have you been a writer?”
“From the time I could hold a pen in my hand, practically. But I didn’t sell my first book until I was twenty-eight. Since then I’ve been lucky to make a pretty decent living. What about you? I’m assuming you were born and raised here. Did you ever move away for a while?”
“Never.” She couldn’t help sighing as she said this.
“You didn’t go to college or university or anything?”
“I was supposed to. But my mother died the year I graduated high school. I stayed back to help my father adjust…and then he had his stroke. I couldn’t leave then.”
He paused to throw a rock into the ocean. “You never married?”
“No. But once…I came close.” Jennifer didn’t think of her aborted engagement very often. She could hardly picture Barry in her mind, or imagine his voice, or the way it had felt to kiss him.
It was hard to believe she’d once considered linking her life with that of a man who had made such a non-lasting impression. “But that was a long time ago.”
“What about now?” His gaze swept over her. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Please don’t let me blush again. It didn’t mean anything that he was curious. This was the sort of general interest question that people did ask. “No. That’s one drawback about living on a small island. Not many single men, especially by the time you get to your thirties. Molly and I sometimes joke about sending away for mail-order husbands.”
Nick chuckled, and Jennifer waited for him to offer his own romantic history. When he didn’t, she prodded.
“Have you ever been married?”
“Never. Though I came close once, too.”
“Oh?”
“We lived together for a few years. Then she dumped me.”
His smile was self-deprecating and yet so utterly charming that Jennifer felt another twist of her heart. Had he really been dumped? It didn’t seem possible. What woman in her right mind would dump Nick Lancaster? There had to be more to his story, but they’d reached the outskirts of Cedarbrae and Derby’s Diner was before them.
“I’m kind of hungry,” Nick said. “You?”
“Derby’s serves a good lunch. Want to give it a try?”
Nick hesitated a moment, then said, “Actually, I was here for lunch yesterday.”
“Really? So was I.”
“Is that right?” He opened the door for her and they went inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN NICK’S EXPERIENCE MOST people loved to talk about themselves. Not Jennifer. He would have found her lack of self-absorption appealing if it hadn’t been so counter to his purposes. Every time he managed to orchestrate the conversation around to her life—and her friends’ lives—Jennifer quickly steered it back to him.
As they made their way to a booth along the far wall, he took stock of all the Simone DeRosier paraphernalia on display. Yesterday he’d been so focused on Molly and Jennifer that he hadn’t noticed the framed photographs and posters.
Despite having seen hundreds of pictures of Simone, and hours of videotape, he was struck anew by how in-your-face beautiful she had been. He wondered if that had ever bothered Jennifer. Most of the women he knew admitted to the odd bit of jealousy. But so far he hadn’t caught a glimpse of it in Jennifer.
Was the woman really too good to be true?
“Anything to drink?” The female server was at their table before they’d opened their menus. She looked and sounded a little grumpy, but Jennifer gave her a warm smile anyway.
“I’ll have a coffee, please, Josie. Thanks a lot.”
The server turned to him and he asked for his usual. “I think I’ll have a double latte, no fat, extra hot.”
The server gaped. “What?”
He winked at Jennifer. “Just coffee for me, too, please.”
The poor woman, now more confused than grouchy shook her head slightly, then walked away, heading for the coffee station next to the kitchen.
“That was mean, Nick, teasing Josie that way.”
And yet she was smiling, if rather reluctantly.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He liked seeing Jennifer smile, though she was still pretty when she didn’t. Yesterday when he’d watched her picking flowers in the garden, he’d had a few moments when he’d actually felt bowled over.
And his reaction had puzzled him. Typically his taste in women ran to urban sophisticates. His ex-fiancée had been—and still was—a senior editor at his publishing house.
Karen was amusing, smart and witty. And, he had to admit it, she’d had a bit of a cruel streak, too. He had a feeling she would have satirized Jennifer’s sweet, unassuming ways.
Don’t you think it’s an act, darling? No one could possibly be that nice.
Yet, she was. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Jennifer March was the real deal.
The server came back with their coffees. Jennifer pushed aside her menu and leaned closer to him. “Do you know what you’d like to eat? The seafood cassoulet is Derby’s specialty.”
He was more of a burger guy himself, but he nodded. “I’ll try it.”
Josie nodded, then scurried back to the kitchen. Jennifer leaned closer. “So tell me about your books.”
He stifled a groan.
“What are they about? How long does it take you to write one?”
She’d beaten him to the punch. Got the conversation rolling in exactly the wrong direction. Now he had no choice but to talk about the very subject he wanted to avoid. “Every book is different. The last one took three years, including research.”
“Is that why you’re here? To do research?”
“Yes.” Nick made a production of passing Jenn the cream and offering her sugar. Then he took a long drink of his coffee, even though it was so hot it scalded the roof of his mouth.
Of course he was eventually going to have to come clean with what he was doing here and what his book was about. He probably should have done so already. But once he did, she’d be more conscious about what she was telling him. This might be his only opportunity to get some unguarded thoughts and opinions.
Nick smiled and Jennifer’s cheeks pinkened again. She was so damned cute and clearly she liked him. Maybe…
No. That was definitely a bad idea. A little flirting, a little fun, sure. But this couldn’t go any further than that.
“A few years ago we had another author stay at our B and B,” Jennifer said. “Craig Richards. Have you heard of him?”
Great. She was talking about writing again. Nick shook his head.
“He was researching a kayakers’ guide to the Gulf Islands. I have an autographed copy of his book in the sitting room.”
Nick wondered if Jennifer would want an autographed copy of his book when he was done. It might be fun to come back here after the book was out and sign some copies for the locals…
But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to write the damn thing first. And to do that, he needed facts. Feeling a little like a tennis player trapped in an endless volley, he looked pointedly at the poster of Simone on the wall beside them.
“I guess the locals are pretty proud of their celebrity.”
Jennifer’s posture tightened. She didn’t look at the poster as she said, “Yes, we are.”
Why was she so guarded every time he mentioned the famous singer? He pretended not to notice the reaction. “So how did you keep up your friendship after she became famous? She must have been very busy.”
“Simone was the kind of person who made things happen. If a hole opened in her schedule, she would be on the phone, arranging things. One day I’d get a call from her, the next I’d be taking the ferry to Vancouver to catch a flight.”
“Is that how your Europe trip happened?”
She nodded. “Simone had the idea on a Tuesday and we were in the air a week later. Between trips we stayed in touch with long phone calls.”
“All worked around her schedule, of course. Her convenience, her availability.”
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “She had more demands on her time than I did.”
Having seen how hard Jennifer worked, Nick doubted that.
“Simone wasn’t perfect, but she was my friend. And I loved her.”
Maybe she had. She sure seemed sincere. But Nick wondered if he might be getting to the source of all that tension he sensed. The friendship seemed to be more one-sided than Jennifer was prepared to admit. “You must have been devastated when she died.”
“It was awful. Especially at first when we believed she’d killed herself.”
Emerson had set up his crime to look like suicide. And for over a year, he’d fooled everyone. During that time there must have been a lot of guilt. And all the forget-me-not friends would have felt it. “It must have been torture for her husband…”
“Yes. Harrison took it the hardest.”
Nick had figured he would have. “But it was Harrison who eventually proved Simone was murdered, right?”
She nodded. “We all thought he was crazy when he first told us his theory. No one more so than Justine. But it turned out that Emerson was the crazy one and Harrison was right.”
“That must have been a real shocker. Had any of you suspected Emerson had these obsessive, romantic feelings for Simone?”
“No. It was always Harrison and Gabe fighting over her, so we were all dumbfounded. But after Emerson killed himself, the RCMP found papers in his house. Apparently in his mind Simone had loved him more than anyone else in the world. When he got up his nerve to tell her he loved her and wanted her to leave Harrison, and she refused, he killed her, then staged the scene to look like suicide. I still can’t believe it.”
Jennifer wasn’t even looking at him as she spoke. Clearly she was reliving the past, still trying to come to grips with the horrible death of her friend.
Poor Jennifer. He felt sympathy for her, and that worried him. It would be crazy for him to let his conscience get in the way now. This was good stuff. He had to keep her talking.
“That wasn’t the first time Emerson committed murder, was it?”
“No. Years ago he killed his parents.”
The articles Nick had read had alluded to past homicides but had been hazy with details. He leaned forward to catch every detail of Jennifer’s answer.
“It was so cold-blooded and…and senseless, Nick. They wanted to retire. That was all. That’s why he killed them.”
“But what did their retirement matter to him?”
“They were going to sell the landscaping company and use the proceeds to buy a place in Arizona. Emerson had worked at the family business all his life.”
“So it was about money?”
“That’s right. For the sake of a few hundred thousand dollars, Emerson rigged the brakes in the family car and his parents died in a horrible accident.”
The color of her eyes grew more intense, thanks to a sudden pooling of tears. Jennifer brushed them away. “But here I am babbling about people you don’t even know. You must be bored.”
Nick cleared his throat. It was time to come clean. He drew the line at lying.
“Actually, Jennifer, I do—”
“Two specials,” Josie announced, arriving at their table with a tray.
Nick sat back in his chair to give her room to unload the plates. Jennifer was smiling at the woman again, chatting about local politics. When the server finally left, the moment was lost.
He’d have to wait for another opportunity to discuss Simone DeRosier and the forget-me-not friends again.
AFTER LUNCH, JENNIFER GAVE Nick the full-blown tour. The island had been explored by the Spanish and the British in the 1700s, but wasn’t settled until the 1850s. Most of the residents worked in small businesses or as farmers or fishermen. Logging wasn’t permitted anywhere on the island, so except for a few cultivated areas, the rain forest remained majestic and untamed.
As they drove leisurely along the main road that circled the island, Jennifer enjoyed sharing her knowledge of the place she’d called home all her life. It was strange how proud she was of a place that sometimes felt like a prison to her.
But the isolation was a big part of the island’s charm. Though they weren’t far, as the crow flies, from the mainland, the combined ferry crossings meant that it took over half a day to travel to either Vancouver or Victoria, the two nearest cities. And because Summer Island was so lightly populated, even during high season the ferry only ran two times a day. If you were late…you were stuck where you were until the next scheduled crossing.
“Arbutus Grove Park.” Nick read aloud the sign on the side of the road, automatically slowing the Rover’s speed at the same time. “Wow, look at those trees.”
The diameter of some of the cedars spanned ten feet or more. Then there were the arbutus, rare broad-leafed evergreens with smooth dark red wood. This was the largest preserved grove of arbutus in all the Gulf Islands.
“This forest is our equivalent to the Queen’s crown jewels. Want to stop and hike down to the ocean?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Nick took her arm as she stepped out of the vehicle, and he kept hold of her hand as they settled on one of the paths that promised a two-kilometer scramble to the rocky shoreline.
“Watch your step,” Nick said as they came across a fallen tree in their path.
He was a courteous companion. Charming. Good company. He’d paid the check for their lunch without her even noticing. And easy to talk to. Jennifer couldn’t remember the last time she’d babbled so much.
He seemed interested in all of it. Her happy, carefree childhood. Aunt Annie’s previous life as a midwife. Her father’s attempts to retain his independence, even though the stroke had robbed him of most of the strength on his left side.
He was wonderfully attentive. The only problem was, whenever she asked a question of him, he wasn’t nearly as forthcoming as she would have liked.
It would be exaggerating to label him secretive…but not by much. She decided to try again. “Have you always lived in New York City?”
“Born and raised.”
She felt a little envious of that. Every time she’d visited Simone there, she’d loved the city. But she’d felt out of her element, too. She suspected no one who hadn’t grown up there could ever feel like they really belonged in a place like New York City.
“It’s hard to imagine a place more different from New York than Summer Island. It must seem very dull here to you.”
Jennifer was having a good time with Nick, but she couldn’t get a read on the man. There were moments when he withdrew into himself and appeared a little cool and distant. But mostly he seemed to enjoy being around her as much as she enjoyed being with him.
In fact, there were times, like now, when she caught a glimpse of something more in his eyes.
“Jennifer?” He pulled gently on her arm, forcing her to stop walking and look at him. “Nothing I’ve seen on Summer Island so far has seemed dull to me.”
She swallowed, trapped in place by the power of his gaze. A slow heat started at her core and began to build. The world collapsed into one small area…the space between him and her.
And then that space began to shrink as he lowered his head and wrapped his arms around her.
“Jennifer?”
She could hardly breathe. “Yes?”
He didn’t have an answer. Only a kiss. And while she’d been expecting it, she hadn’t expected to feel so much from it. The wine last night hadn’t been nearly this intoxicating. She went up on tiptoe and settled her hands tentatively on the firm platform of his shoulders.