Can he love her...

And keep her safe?

No one in Turtleback Beach knows that veterinarian Grayson Zale is in the witness protection program—not even the woman who left him at the altar. When a joint inheritance brings Mandi Rivers back to their small seaside town, Gray can’t deny that their connection is as strong as ever. But his mysterious past remains between them; can he reveal the truth without endangering Mandi—and their future?

Award-winning and USA TODAY bestselling author RULA SINARA lives in rural Virginia with her family and wild but endearing pets. She loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard, planting trees, raising backyard chickens and drinking more coffee than she’ll ever admit to. Rula’s writing has earned her a National Readers’ Choice Award and a HOLT Medallion of Merit, among other honors. Her door is always open at rulasinara.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, learn about her latest books and find links to her social media hangouts.

Also by Rula Sinara

From Kenya, with Love

The Promise of Rain

After the Silence

Through the Storm

Every Serengeti Sunrise

The Twin Test

The Marine’s Return

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

“The Sweetheart Tree”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Almost a Bride

Rula Sinara

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09644-7

ALMOST A BRIDE

© 2019 Rula Sinara

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“You’re the one who’s in a rush to sell your grandmother’s house.”

Mandi picked up a paint scraper from the bucket and slapped it gently against her palm.

“Gray, all I ever wanted was for you to be honest and open with me. If you can promise me that, then we’ll survive working together on this place.”

Something shifted in Gray’s face. He took the scraper from her and began clearing the cracked paint off the back railing.

“I’m an honest man, doing an honest day’s work. Trust me, Mandi. Nobody knows me better than you do. And nobody ever will.”

Was that an answer or a promise? A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed hard against it. Her heartstrings had tangled like wild, windblown hair the first day she’d met him, and it had taken her the past three years to loosen the knots. Grayson Zale was dangerous to her peace of mind. She wanted to believe him...but did she dare?

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my eldest son for answering my questions (any errors are my own). Your passion for motorcycles inspired me, and the hero in this book loves them as much as you do.

And to my other kids for providing encouragement, support and inspiration. You never know what will make its way into my books!

And, as always, heartfelt gratitude to my editor, Adrienne Macintosh. I’m looking forward to working on this new and exciting series with you!

Dedication

To those who devote their time to rescuing animals, whether wildlife or pets. And to pets for rescuing us.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Turtleback Beach! I hope you enjoy my new series set in a small, fictional beach town on the real Outer Banks of North Carolina’s Hatteras Island. This series is filled with heartwarming animals, lots and lots of romance and a little mystery. I hope you join me for the ride!

The towns of Hatteras Island, including the famous Rodanthe, are small and quaint (no big hotels or crowds). This breathtaking island boasts quiet beaches and natural surroundings. The Outer Banks is also famous for sea turtle nesting grounds, wild horses, picturesque lighthouses and so much more. It’s one of my favorite places to visit.

This first book of the series includes many themes, but one of the most significant is secrets—the life-changing kind. Often, what we’re hiding is so serious or personal it keeps us from being able to embrace life, live freely, own our truth...or love who we want to love. Keeping that kind of secret is stressful, and might include lying to friends and family, but sometimes doing so can be a matter of life or death.

So, when are secrets worth the sacrifice? I’d love to hear what you think after experiencing what Mandi Rivers, a runaway bride, and Grayson Zale, who is in the witness protection program, must overcome in order to find love in Almost a Bride.

My door is always open at rulasinara.com, where you’ll find my newsletter sign-up, social media links, information on my series and books and more.

Wishing you love, peace and courage in life.

Rula Sinara

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Acknowledgments

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

GRAYSON ZALE BIT back a curse as he ducked between the weather-beaten posts that hoisted the pier at Turtleback Beach over the clawing surf. He crouched down, pulse racing, as he pretended to reach for a shell stranded by the low tide, and waited for the guy in the backward cap and sunglasses to finish taking a panoramic shot with his cell phone. The last thing Gray needed was to have his face plastered on social media and recognized by the wrong people. Or worse yet, what if this guy wasn’t some random tourist? Not many tourists ventured this far south along the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and those who did usually stayed away from the areas roped off and marked as turtle breeding grounds. Most vacationers settled on staying in towns farther north of Hatteras Island, like Duck or Kill Devil Hills, where they could have their pick of hotels, amenities, shops and attractions, like the memorial where the Wright brothers took their first flight. Granted, Turtleback and neighboring towns, like Rodanthe or Avon, did get some visitors—usually more peace-and nature-loving types. It was just that being cautious and suspicious had become a twisted, unsettling part of who he was...like a leech or parasite, unwilling to let go.

Laddie, Gray’s rough collie rescue, positioned himself stoically between Gray and the stranger. No barking or growling. That was a good sign, but getting caught in an online photo was a threat in and of itself. It was more than out of the question. It was a matter of life or death.

Sure, he was the town’s veterinarian, which meant just about everyone had come to know him in some capacity or another since he’d landed in town five years ago. He was their pet’s doc, a friend of a friend, the guy who grabbed his coffee and bear claw at the local bake shop the second it opened at six in the morning with Laddie ever at his side. He was the guy they’d wave to as he took off on a motorcycle ride down Highway 12. But as much as he’d integrated himself into the town, he’d also become adept at skirting photos, and he almost always wore his “Save the Turtles” ball cap and Oakley sunglasses when walking the beach during the busier summer season, just in case he did end up in the background of a tourist’s photograph. He took every precaution to stay under the radar and live a low-key life.

Nonetheless, it was a tiny town. Everyone knew everyone and news traveled faster than the infamous riptides could suck a person out to sea and drown them. He was surprised he’d survived the gossip and side-glances when he was abandoned at the altar by Mandi Rivers, the town’s sweetheart and former mayor’s daughter, two years ago. As privately as he lived his life, having his heart shredded so publicly had been unbearable—not because of humiliation or pride, but because she must have known that having his personal life laid out for everyone to dissect was akin to physically stabbing him in the heart and leaving him to bleed out. Yet, she’d done it. She had deliberately hurt him. Sometimes he wasn’t sure what hurt more...the pain of losing the only woman he’d ever loved and trusted, or the pain of knowing that she had cast him off like fisherman’s chum and never looked back.

He glanced across the waves toward the horizon. It hadn’t been the first time everything in his life had been cast away, but Mandi’s leaving him would probably be the one loss he’d never fully recover from. He knew this because every time she entered his mind, a spot deep in his chest, beneath bone and heart, cramped and ached with pain and longing. And what bothered him even more was that he couldn’t, in all honesty, place all the blame on her. He’d destroyed his own life. Every choice he made seemed to doom him—not that keeping that truth from her about his past had been a choice. But she had wanted more from him than he could give. Openness and honesty. And telling her that he honestly loved her clearly hadn’t been enough.

The stranger’s voice broke through the rhythmic cries of seagulls and crashing surf as he called out a name. A woman emerged from the tall grasses that flanked a narrow, sandy path leading from the road to the beach. Similar paths, some paved with weathered, wooden planks and some not, ran all along the Outer Banks. This one trailed over a short sand dune that masked the view of the road beyond. The young woman hoisted a toddler onto her hip and adjusted what looked like a baby supply bag that hung from one shoulder as she trudged through the sand toward the man, who belatedly tucked the phone camera in his back pocket and jogged over to give her a hand. He planted a kiss on her lips and took the child in his arms. Husband? Partner? Boyfriend? Whatever the relationship, one thing was clear. They were a family. Something Gray would never have again.

Laddie whimpered and began wagging his tail. He looked up pleadingly at Gray.

“Not this time. Come on.”

The calming scent of salt water filled Gray’s lungs once again. He tucked a shell in his pocket, stood and started for the lighthouse at the end of the beach. Laddie jogged alongside without complaint, distancing himself from Gray only long enough to skirt a log of driftwood strangled by seaweed. His ears perked at the sound of that toddler giggling in the distance, but he stayed on course for home.

The poor dog adored children, so much so that there were times when Gray could have sworn his expressive face and eyes seemed to say, “When are you going to get me some human kids of my own to look out for?” Yeah. That wasn’t happening.

His past had ceased to exist five years ago, and the only people who’d come close to being family since then were Mandi and her grandmother Nana. His throat constricted and a sudden gust of wind slapped against his chest, forcing him to exhale. As of three days ago, Nana was no longer with them, a fact that still felt surreal. Nana was gone. There would be no more waving to her during his evening jog or stopping by for an afternoon cup of coffee. There would be no more deals or compromises where Nana would insist on his coming over for a home-cooked meal and he’d agree only if she let him pick up groceries for her. She would no longer be there to comb the beach for turtle nests with him at the crack of dawn—her favorite activity and time of day. As for Mandi?

Gray muttered a curse as he passed the white, two-story beach cottage that everyone knew as Nana’s house. Raised on solid posts, like most homes here because of tropical storms and hurricanes, it stood much taller than a standard two-story and boasted just a touch of Victorian flair with gingerbread trim along the upper gable and around the small turret-style attic. That tiny space was more of a lookout and storage nook than a full room, according to Nana, who had always kept it locked. It was the window to the room just beneath it that caught his eye now. Nana had always referred to it as Mandi’s room, even if she had technically lived with her father. That room beneath the attic space had been Mandi’s spot, made cozy with an old sofa, painting easel and numerous canvases stacked against the wall. It had been her hideaway. The one place he knew he could always find her if her father had been giving her a hard time about seeing too much of Gray. Well, John Rivers got what he wanted.

Man, Gray had come so close—dangerously close—to giving up everything after Mandi had left him at the altar. His veterinary practice, his new life at Turtleback...his fake identity. Everything, just to win her back. But doing so wouldn’t have endangered only himself. It would have put anyone he cared about in danger, too...something the WITSEC—Witness Security Program—marshals had drilled into him with horrifying, gory visuals and stories about federal witness protection cases where cover had been blown—voluntarily or involuntarily. Ironic that revealing the truth had caused him to be sentenced to a life of secrets and lies. He was lucky that he’d been allowed to continue his career as a vet under a different name, but any record of his completing veterinary school through the US Army or serving as a vet with the US Navy Marine Mammal Program or even his very short time in the Department of Defense research division was essentially gone. That history didn’t belong to Grayson Zale. Nor did any chance at a truly normal life beyond outward appearances.

He took to jogging the eighth of a mile from Nana’s to the path that led to the old Turtleback Lighthouse and the adjacent one-story “ranger” cottage where he lived. Unlike other lighthouses along the Outer Banks, this one wasn’t a famous tourist destination. In fact, the powers that be made sure it was clearly marked as not open to the public. A metal sign hanging on a wooden post near the clearing welcomed wanderers with a firm warning that the landmark wasn’t structurally safe, that it was undergoing restoration and that trespassers would be prosecuted.

There were no heavy security fences around the property. That idea had been nixed by WITSEC on the grounds that it would draw more attention to him than it was worth. Hiding in plain sight was essentially a more effective plan, which meant no added security fences that would only raise eyebrows. There was an old double-wide gate with a short, open-ended fence to either side where the main road led to the property, but it was nothing more than an entrance marker. Anyone could get around it, so he had a hidden surveillance camera on the property, just in case people got too curious. The few times he’d run into intrigued hikers, he’d told them he lived there as an authorized curator and guard, and then sent them off. As for townsfolk, they believed that lack of proper funding was the reason no major restorations had happened yet, including the high cost of relocating the lighthouse to a safer spot, farther away from the shore, as had been done with the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. There would be no safer spot. At least not for him. There wouldn’t be any major restorations either, because opening up the place to tourism was out of the question.

Laddie trotted up the steps to the cottage door and nudged the brass box that held mail. He could tell when it was empty or full and he knew the scent of the mailman wasn’t a threat. Or it wasn’t supposed to be, not just because of the Postal Service’s reputation, but because, as Gray understood it when he first moved here, the delivery guy had been cleared.

He grabbed the mail, unlocked the door and waited for Laddie to follow him inside.

“Hungry?”

The dog responded with his usual half grunt, half yodel. Dog-speak. Gray chuckled as he poured kibble into the food bowl and put fresh water in the one next to it. He didn’t know what he’d do without Laddie. Having him around the past few years had made life manageable.

“We rescued each other, didn’t we boy?” He scratched Laddie behind the ear and got a dog smile in return. “I still have you. It doesn’t matter that Mandi will be here for the funeral. I can deal with it. Life’s been just fine without her.”

Funny how lying to himself had become just as natural as lying to everyone else. Or maybe repeating those words to himself had become more of a mantra. Life’s just fine without her. God knew he’d relied on that mantra during Mandi’s short and infrequent visits from up north to see Nana over the past couple of years. Most of the time, she had convinced her grandma to go visit her instead—a blatant avoidance of him.

He was guilty of steering clear of her too, though, down to not grabbing coffee at the local bakery whenever she was in town for a couple of days. He told himself he was avoiding gossip and proving to everyone in town that he’d moved on, but the fact was that one look at her and every stitch he’d tightened around the wound she’d left would unravel. He was strong and resilient, but there was only so much a man could take.

He glanced at the clock. Sheesh. Ten already? He scrubbed his hand across his face. So much for dropping by the office to make sure everything was under control. He needed to shower and change in time for the funeral. She’ll be there. You can’t avoid each other this time. Yeah. He knew that. A fact that had been gnawing at him for two days now.

As if having his life turned upside down when he’d been placed in the witness protection program, and again when Mandi had gone runaway bride on him, wasn’t enough. Now Nana was gone. Nana...the one person who’d accepted him unconditionally...who’d treated him like a son and who’d taught him about rescuing endangered sea turtles by tending to their nesting grounds along her private stretch of beach and the sands that extended beyond the town limits. Nana was gone and the one person who understood and felt the depth of that loss the way he did was Mandi. But it didn’t matter that a part of him wanted to reach out and console her or that he desperately needed to talk about Nana and share memories about her with Mandi. No way would he open his heart, even a crack, and let Mandi in. He was a survivor. Burned once and all that. Others would be at the funeral, including Mandi’s father, John Rivers, Nana’s only child. They could console her and give her support. She didn’t need Gray in her life. She’d made that clear long ago.

And he certainly didn’t need her.

* * *

MANDI RIVERS EXAMINED herself in the tarnished silver mirror that hung in Nana’s entryway above a rustic console table. Her eyes weren’t any less puffy than they had been the five previous times she’d checked during the past thirty minutes. Why did it matter? No doubt, others in town had cried, too, when they heard of Nana’s unexpected passing.

She scurried to the kitchen and chucked the cucumber slices that had proved useless into the trash bin. The fact was that she hadn’t noticed what the nine-hour drive from New York yesterday—and the dam of tears that finally let loose once she’d stepped into Nana’s home last night—had done to her face...until she had spotted Grayson down on the beach this morning. She wasn’t sure if he noticed her peering past the sheer curtains. She had ducked back the second he glanced up toward the house, but the way he took off at a run seconds later made her wonder. Maybe he had seen her.

He had looked serious and irritated and so, so good. It was criminal to look that good with his dark brown hair all messed up by the ocean breeze and his favorite old T-shirt looking more worn than she’d remembered. Even from a distance, she knew which one by the faded blue color and tear at the bottom hem. It was the one that said “Save the Sharks” on the front. Heaven help her, she had a better chance of surviving a shark attack than surviving being around Gray this afternoon.

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she cared enough to spy on him. She had wasted too much of her life trying to get him to open up and share things about his history. She’d gone from having a crush on him when she was twenty, right about when he had first moved to town, to dating him and even saying yes when he had finally proposed on her twenty-third birthday. She thought that day would never happen, given how withdrawn and serious he’d sometimes get. As much as she had loved him and confided in him, he had been hard to crack. He was skilled at evading questions and switching subjects so smoothly that most people didn’t notice. But she did. And it hurt that he didn’t trust her enough to open up. She had thought being engaged and eventually married would make a difference, but boy had she been naive. She’d come so close to throwing away a chance at a master’s degree and an incredible career for someone she’d never be enough for.

The last straw had been wedding jitters mixed with her father warning her that marrying Gray would be the biggest mistake of her life. The look on her dad’s face when she stood at the altar had left her hyperventilating and sweating in her wedding dress. Her controlling father had been the one person she’d rebelled against and the last man she wanted to listen to, yet when push came to shove, his disapproval had carried weight. The need for parental approval was one of those convoluted psychological things that latched itself to a person’s mind even when logic shunned it. He’d made her second-guess herself. He’d made her second-guess Gray’s love for her.

Wasn’t it Freud who had written something to the effect that girls tended to fall for guys who were much like their fathers? God help her. Her father was a hovering, micromanaging, money-driven, controlling man who valued appearances and reputation above all else. He had made her teenage years unbearable. And then there was Gray, who had a compassionate side she couldn’t resist, yet he had to maintain control of every conversation, and his explanations for mundane things, like why he never had visitors or why he didn’t keep old baby or family photos, had frustrated her to no end. The thought of marrying someone remotely controlling like her father still made her nauseous. And there had been a part of Gray she couldn’t figure out...a part he kept locked away with the key in his pocket. Control. That fact had kept her up every night the week before the wedding. It had driven her to choose control of her own life...and to abandon a love that was just too risky.

On one hand, she often wondered if her father’s air of superiority and always having the final say in decisions had been the reason her mother had abandoned them when Mandi was still in grade school. Nana used to tell her that her parents had loved each other, but perhaps loving John Rivers had been too risky. Maybe the women in Mandi’s family were simply doomed when it came to love.

But Nana also used to say that there were two sides to every relationship and every story, so a part of Mandi also wondered if her mother had had commitment issues and Mandi had somehow inherited that curse. Perhaps her mom had suffered from the same suffocating urge to leave Turtleback and travel or experience big-city life that Mandi had. What if Mandi was just like her mother? And what if maybe, just maybe, Gray wasn’t at all like her father and Mandi had been fishing for excuses to run away. That would mean that she had thrown away the kind of love she couldn’t ever imagine feeling again.

Just stop it. She groaned and clenched her fists as she headed for the kitchen. She was doing it again—overanalyzing and spiraling through pointless reasons for what had happened to her and Gray. She hated it when she slid into this pattern. It had taken months for her to regain her focus after leaving him and starting graduate school. She was not going to let seeing him weaken her resolve. She steeled herself against the slurry of anger and sadness that pooled in her stomach. She took a glass from the cabinet by the fridge, filled it with cool water and drank half before setting it down.

No regrets. Nana’s voice swept through her mind with haunting clarity. The same words she would command Mandi to repeat like a mantra, whenever she was feeling down or torn about a decision. Regrets are like steel anchors. They’ll weigh you down and keep you from moving forward in life. Own every choice you make, and make it work for you.

Oh, she’d made her choice work for her alright. She would never regret earning her undergraduate college degree on her own terms. Studying online may not have been the same as getting a degree from a university her father could brag about, but it had saved her money. It had been the affordable option, and her master’s diploma from NYU was the one that counted now. Her father’s insistence that she study prelaw out of high school, then attend law school—all because he felt his political aspirations would have gone far beyond town mayor had he done the same—had resulted in her taking a gap year after high school. He had given her an ultimatum that he would pay for college only if she studied prelaw, which she had no inclination toward or desire to do.

That gap year had really ticked him off, but not nearly as much as her decision to put herself through a four-year advertising degree online, while working locally to support her goals. Her father had been downright furious. Turning down his money not only stole some of the power he had over her, but that gap year had also stripped him of bragging rights. His only child was the only one in her senior class whose intended college wasn’t announced at graduation. She had shamed him.

She never asked Nana for financial help either, though there was a time or two she wished her grandmother would have offered. All Nana ever told her was that she had faith in her and that Mandi could accomplish more than she knew she could. And she had. She’d accomplished something significant, but her father had yet to express any pride or approval in her degree. Had she married Gray the year she earned her diploma and found out she’d been accepted into a master’s program, she wouldn’t be on the verge of jump-starting her career right now. She took a deep breath and rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders.

Gray had not known she’d gotten accepted into NYU, yet he had made it clear that selling his vet practice and moving was out of the question. If she’d trusted his feelings for her, maybe she’d have given it all up for him or maybe she could have figured out how to make a long-distance marriage work for two years, but that hadn’t been the case. She didn’t leave him because of the master’s program. She left him because she couldn’t see a life with someone who wasn’t completely open and honest with her about everything.

You don’t regret leaving him. You’re just feeling alone because Nana’s gone.

She opened the pantry and took out another box of tissues. This was so unfair. Nana hadn’t said a word about being sick. Or had Mandi been so preoccupied with school and her career that she’d missed the signs? If she regretted anything, it was not being there for her grandmother.

She jolted when her phone alarm went off, then quickly silenced it and hurried to the guest room she was using while staying here. She glanced in the mirror and ran a comb briskly through her long, wavy hair. Her sun-kissed highlights were long gone and her face looked pale against the deeper brown. Unfortunately, her nose was as red and miserable as her eyes. She pinched her cheeks, then hurried to the sofa, where she’d thrown her purse last night. Years of avoiding a face-to-face with Gray, and now he was going to see her like this? She looked nothing like a successful graduate who’d just been offered her dream job with a top New York advertising firm. That was the impression she’d hoped to give. And why did that bother her so much?

She hated that one glimpse of Grayson on the beach had her worried about appearances and impressions...so much like her father. She just wanted people to see that she was okay and doing just fine for herself without Gray in her life. She didn’t want her father seeing her as weak and doubting that she could make it on her own without his money or connections. She wanted everyone who had been a part of her life to feel at least a little proud of her for making it on her own...even Gray. But she knew Gray hated her and she couldn’t blame him after what she’d done, yet a part of her yearned for him to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the pain of losing Nana became bearable. If it ever would.

She flipped the pillows on the sofa. Her keys had to be here somewhere. She distinctly remembered tossing them onto the purse. She shoved her hand between the sofa cushions. Yes. Her fingertips brushed against the pewter turtle that held the bundle of keys together. The doorbell rang. No.

She wasn’t expecting anyone. The image of Gray standing in the doorway flashed in her mind. She knew it was him. She just did. Her instincts screamed it. Her stomach twisted and her pulse skittered at the base of her throat. This would be so like him...wanting to give her his condolences in private, away from curious friends and family. Public displays of affection had always made him uncomfortable. It didn’t matter that this gathering was about loss. The fact that everyone in town knew their history practically guaranteed that behind all the sympathy would be curious eyes and gossip.

Gray was right. Getting this first encounter over with in private was the smart thing to do.

She shoved the keys in her pocket and took a deep breath as she went for the door and opened it.

“Mandi.”

“Dad?”

Her gut sank a few inches, but she wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. Her father opened his arms and she complied. His embrace was anything but comforting. Maybe it was all in her head, but everything between them...even seemingly kind gestures on his part...always felt tainted with expectation or ulterior motive. Nonetheless, he was her father. Her only remaining family. That had to count for something. Mandi gave him a peck on the cheek and stepped back. He strode past her and stood in the center of the main room, his gaze darting around the place with purposeful efficiency.

“I thought we should drive over to the funeral together. Show how the Rivers are strong and will get through this together, as a family,” he said.

And there it was. Show. Keep up appearances. Mandi folded her arms around her waist.

“I’m so sorry about Nana, Dad. I know losing your mom must be hard on you.”

“Yes. Thank you. Same to you, sweetheart. I know you were close. And I realize that you were so young when your mother left, you probably don’t remember what it was like having her around. It’s different when you’ve been around someone day in and day out your entire life, like Nana, and then, suddenly, they’re gone. I know she was old, but still. It hurts.”

Leave it to her dad to put the color back in her face. It irked her to no end that he’d assume that she had no memories of her mother or that her leaving so abruptly hadn’t left a scar. How many times had she, as a little girl, wondered if she’d caused her mother to leave, even if Nana had assured her that wasn’t the case? Besides, Nana had been like both a mother and grandmother to her. More of a parent than John Rivers had been, for sure. He had always put his work first, whether it was when he was town mayor or, now, as a real estate investor. For him, life was about money and success. All he had ever cared about were Mandi’s grades and future career.

Sure, he had given her a roof and had read her bedtime stories when she was younger, but when it really came to parenting, it was Nana who had stepped in and picked up the pieces after her mother left. Nana had been the one to offer emotional support through all her growing pains and the pitfalls of dating. She was the one who instilled confidence in Mandi, assuring her she was pretty during the awkward teen years, taking her clothes shopping or even just holding and comforting her when she had missed her mom and felt confused. Her dad had always been too preoccupied with work to realize that parenting involved so much more than providing food and shelter.

It’s different when you’ve been around someone day in and day out your entire life and then, suddenly, they’re gone.

Was he also trying to point out that she hadn’t been around Nana on a daily basis the past few years? As if that would make her miss her grandmother any less? She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out. It wasn’t the time, or place. Nana wouldn’t want them fighting. She cleared her throat and fidgeted with her keys.

“I miss her, too. I, um, was planning to drive myself to the funeral home. In fact, I was just about to leave. We can park near each other and walk into the service together. I’d really like to have my car there, so that I can go for a drive afterward.”

What she really meant was that she needed a getaway car if things got overwhelming. Nana used to lovingly call her “my little hermit crab” because, for all her talk about making it big in the world, Mandi always needed downtime. She had the soul of a hermit, Nana would say. Sometimes she’d find her solace by reading upstairs in her nook and sometimes it was a sandy spot, hidden by tall grasses, overlooking the sound side of Turtleback. Her mind flipped back to the lighthouse and the time Gray whisked her up the spiral stairs to the top and they sat for hours watching the sunset. He had been quiet enough for her to find peace, yet comforting, with his hand wrapped around hers and his special scent enveloping her. It had been the day after she had finished her online degree and her dad had not shown up to the “graduation” dinner Nana had made for her and a few friends. His only reaction to Mandi’s telling him she’d finished her bachelor’s was, “Good for you. Now figure out what to do with it.” He had always dismissed her so easily, especially when she accomplished something that had not stemmed from his advice.

“Nonsense,” he said, running his hand along an old, chipped bowl that was the color of the wet sand along the surf.

The piece of pottery had been passed down for generations. It had belonged to Nana’s great-grandmother, who in turn had claimed it had made its way to her from a line of ancestors in the Algonquin tribe. Something about the way John Rivers touched it sent a streak of cold down Mandi’s neck...as if Nana herself was protesting. No doubt that bowl was worth a lot, assuming it really was antique, but it needed to continue its journey through generations of family. Mandi’s father wouldn’t see the value in that. He glanced over at Mandi. He did look tired. She knew he loved them both. It was just that his love seemed so misguided at times.

“I really want you to come with me, Mandi. You drove all yesterday. Besides, didn’t you used to hound me about the environment? Car fumes and fuel, etcetera...? Come on. Grab your purse or we’ll be late.”

He put his hand on her shoulder to ease her toward the door. She was too tired to fight him on this, as much as she wanted to.

“Fine. After you.”

She followed him out, pausing only to close up behind her. A breeze tousled her hair over her eyes as she waited for him to unlock the car doors with his fob. She pushed the hair out of her face and stilled. There was Gray on his motorcycle, helmet turned so that he was undoubtedly staring right at her from the crossroad near the house. He turned away, revved his engine and disappeared down the road.

“Are you getting in?” her father asked, glancing back toward the road. He made no effort to mask his irritation. Mandi tipped her chin up and gave a quick shrug, as if the sight of Gray or the sound of his Triumph engine failed to stir anything in her.

“Yeah, sorry. The wind was blowing my hair and I was just thinking of getting a scarf, but never mind. Let’s go before it’s too late.”

Go before it’s too late.

That’s what she needed to do. She’d stay for the funeral and then get out of town as fast as she could. Being this close to Gray was dangerous. She couldn’t risk everything she’d worked so hard for—her independence, career...and finally getting over him. Being near Gray would only reawaken old feelings. Emotions had a way of confusing a person. She needed to stay on track. Grayson’s life rested in Turtleback...and she simply didn’t belong here anymore.

CHAPTER TWO

FACES HAD A way of blurring at a funeral reception, especially at the rate Gray was moving through the crowd to exchange kind words about Nana Rivers. Everyone was there, from Darla, who ran the bakery, to Carlos Ryker, the town sheriff. Even the florist, who’d supplied the arrangements at all corners of the room, had lingered when her job was done. Nana would have preferred for the money to be donated to animal rescue foundations, rather than spent on expensive flowers. The baby’s breath, however, she would have loved. It was the only flower she ever had in her home because she said it was the only one that didn’t make her sneeze. Gray was going to need some fresh air soon himself. Between flowers and perfume, his eyes were beginning to itch. Animal dander never bothered him, but pollen and artificial scents he could do without.

He gave Nana’s friend from the library his condolences and spent seconds too long trying to pry himself away from two young women he recognized as teachers at the local high school. He hated crowds, and the idea that anyone could have the nerve to flirt at a time like this nauseated him. The only saving grace of having so many townsfolk present was that it kept things civil when he shook hands with John to briefly pay his respects. He wasn’t here for the man who’d almost become his father-in-law. He was here for Nana...and Mandi. Regardless of what had happened between them, he knew she was suffering right now. He knew firsthand how close she’d been to her grandmother.

He’d come so close to stopping by Nana’s cottage earlier. If John hadn’t been there, he would have already spoken to Mandi. Something told him that there wasn’t anything random about her father getting there first. He wouldn’t be surprised if John stuck by his daughter’s side until she was back in New York, far enough away from Gray...the guy John had insisted was too old for her and not polished enough, as if six years’ difference mattered when two people were meant for each other. It wasn’t only about age, though. John was an elitist. A man of position, whether he held one or not. He would always look down his nose at Gray. Even now, Gray wasn’t wearing a tie, a fact that was emphasized when he shook hands with John and the man smoothed his own. Gray hated ties. Nana knew it and wouldn’t have wanted him wearing one on her account. She encouraged people to be themselves around her. But for John, he was too casual and too much of a bachelor. He didn’t have what it took to be a family man or good enough husband for Mandi. And boy, did John hate Gray’s love of motorcycles. There was just too much speed and freedom in a motorcycle ride for him to handle or wrap his head around. Motorcycles weren’t stable enough...a direct reflection of Gray’s character, apparently.

He scanned the foyer of the funeral home, but there was no sign of Mandi. Clearly, she hadn’t lost her touch. He slipped through the group and stepped outside the massive oak doors that led out onto a raised decking with steps down to a walkway and the parking lot.

There she stood leaning over the railing at one end. She looked amazing. Even more beautiful than the selfie Nana had taken of the two of them during her last trip to New York about eight months ago. It was the photo Nana used on her cell phone lock screen, and he couldn’t help but look at it the few times Nana had asked him to hold her phone for her.

Mandi’s hair had gotten darker and longer but it still held loose waves, like the ones he used to run his fingers through. The wind kicked up, causing her skirt to hug the curve of her hip. She brushed the hair off her face and wrapped her arms around her waist as she watched clouds building up for a typical afternoon rain. Man, the sight of her made him long for the family they’d once talked about...like the one he’d witnessed on the beach that morning. He’d never wanted one with anyone else. He’d never wanted forever with anyone else. Only her.

He tucked his fingers into the pockets of his black jeans and walked over, bracing himself with each step. This wasn’t about opening up an old can of worms. This was about getting the closure they both needed and making peace. Nana would have wanted that and it was the least he could do in the little time he had before Mandi left again. Chances were, without Nana to coax her into a rare visit, Mandi wouldn’t have any reason to come back here again. Especially given the way she felt about her father and him. He hesitated when she tensed, clearly sensing his presence, then he stepped closer and leaned against the railing next to her.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” he said, trying to sound cool and matter-of-fact. She simply pressed her lips together and nodded. A lump trailed down her throat as she swallowed. He could tell she was struggling to find her words. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am about Nana. I couldn’t find you inside. Besides, John would’ve found a way to intercept,” he said.

That earned him a chuckle and she let her arms relax.

“You’re right about that.” She smiled softly. “Nana used to joke about how he needed a dog to help him relax but that he’d never get one because you were the only vet in town.”

“That would have to be one biddable dog. I would think your dad would love having someone around who would obey his every command.”

“Shh. He might hear you.”

She stifled a laugh and looked over her shoulder. Gray shrugged.

“It wouldn’t make him hate me any less.”

“How’s your dog? Laddie. Nana talks—talked—a lot about him,” she explained. Laddie and Mandi had never been formally introduced.

“I usually take him everywhere I go when I take my truck, but he’s at home right now watching a nature documentary. He’s the best, smartest, most patient dog I’ve ever met, but I doubt he’d have the patience for your dad. Everyone has their limits.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

He loved her laugh. Her face relaxed and her dark brown eyes softened like warmed chocolate. He was letting himself fall into dangerous territory. But he had a safety net. She’d be gone soon.

“It’s okay to laugh. Nana would want you to. She was all about celebrating life.”

Mandi nodded, but her smile disappeared and chin quivered.

“She really was. I feel guilty about not being here. For not knowing something was wrong.”

He reached over and put his hand over hers. For a fraction of a second, he thought she was going to pull away, but she didn’t.

“You can’t feel guilty. No one knew. You can’t predict when an aneurysm will give, and she never told anyone she’d been diagnosed with one a few months ago or that the doctors told her operating in her case would be risky. It’s probably the only time I’ve ever known her not to take a chance. It was her choice, Mandi.”

This time, she did pull away. She covered her face briefly, then pushed her hair back.

“But don’t you see? I used to go to her doctor appointments with her when I was here. I would have known. I could have convinced her to try surgery or something. If she had told me, I would have at least come down to be with her.”

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell you. She didn’t want you dropping what was important to you on her account.”

Mandi’s lips parted and she shook her head. Oh boy.

“That didn’t come out right,” he quickly added. “I mean that she knew you wanted to be out there following your dream. Maybe she didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I understood you perfectly. I prioritized what I wanted and left Turtleback. I left everyone behind, including you. Do you really want to go there now, Gray?”

“That’s not how I meant it. I meant that she probably couldn’t bear the thought of being hospitalized or anyone having to take care of her. Nana hated to burden anyone. She was too independent.”

“Yeah. Maybe I got that from her.”

Gray threw his palms up. This wasn’t worth it.

“Forget I said anything. I’m expected over at the clinic, so again, my condolences. If I don’t see you before you leave town, then—just drive safely and have a good life.”

He turned on his heel and headed for his motorcycle as the first drops of rain hit the ground. He wasn’t expected at work today unless there was an emergency, but as far as he was concerned, getting out of Mandi’s hair qualified as one. He didn’t care if he got drenched. He needed to get out of here. He put his helmet on and rode off without looking back, but he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that this was the last time he’d ever see her.

* * *

EIGHT HOURS SINCE Mandi had been dropped off at the cottage and she was still in a fetal position on Nana’s bed. She glanced at the time on her phone, squinting with one eye to lessen the screen’s glare, and slapped it back down on the bed. Three in the morning? She covered her eyes with her hand. Her legs didn’t want to move any more than the rest of her did. Yesterday evening, without so much as a bite of dinner, she had wrapped herself in Nana’s favorite crocheted purple shawl and curled up on her bed, dozing on and off for mere minutes at a time. At some point, she must have really fallen asleep, lulled by the faint, lingering scent of Nana’s woodsy perfume on her pillow.

She stared up at the moon shadows that stretched across the ceiling. Her grandmother’s energy still seemed to fill the room. It was both comforting and unsettling. Was Nana passing away so suddenly all Mandi’s fault? Had she brought on everything bad that had happened in her life, like losing her mother, grandma and even Gray? No regrets. That advice didn’t make sense at a time like this. She did regret not seeing her grandmother at least one last time. She regretted not being there for Nana the way Nana had always been there for her. She regretted...

Gray’s face flashed in her mind. No, she didn’t regret leaving him. She had done the right thing not marrying him. Even Nana had consoled her through the ordeal, emphasizing that a person had to find themselves and master the art of self-love and self-respect before they could ever stand tall enough to lift others off the ground. Mandi had assumed that those who needed lifting referred to people—or even animals—around her in general or maybe future children and family...but not Gray. Nana couldn’t have meant him, specifically. Gray didn’t need anyone holding him up. He exuded confidence with every step he took and had his life exactly where he wanted it to be, from his thriving practice to his work saving endangered turtle hatchlings on the beach. Grayson Zale knew exactly who he was. He simply could not bring himself to share every part of him with Mandi, and that wasn’t good enough for her. Or maybe she hadn’t been good enough for him. Whatever it was, she deserved more than to settle for a life with someone who didn’t trust or love her enough to be completely open with her. Neither of them would have been happy.

She rolled off the edge of the bed, flicked on the side lamp, gave her puffy eyes a moment to adjust, then began folding the shawl. The open, floral-patterned stitching on the bottom left corner snagged on the nightstand’s knob, pulling the loose drawer slightly askew. She freed the shawl and set it carefully where it had been, near the end of the bed, then turned to straighten the drawer.

Open it.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and sucked in the corner of her lip. Going through all of her grandma’s drawers and belongings was inevitable. She would have to face it sooner or later, but the fact that she was actually curious about what Nana kept in her nightstand felt wrong. She had never been a snoop. She had always respected people’s privacy because she wanted the same for herself. That was probably why she’d never made enough headway with getting Gray to share more about his past with her. She wasn’t aggressive enough. Her father was aggressive and she made a point of trying not to be like him. She fingered the knobs.

“I’m sorry, Nana, but I get the feeling you’d want me to make sure there aren’t things tucked away you don’t want my dad seeing.”

Nightstands were very personal spaces. What if her unabashedly wild-at-heart grandmother kept secret love letters or sexy romance novels hidden in there? Did she want to know? Did she dare look inside? She opened the drawer, supporting the side with the broken runner with her left hand. A five-by-eight notebook with a recycled paper cover adorned with pressed flowers lay next to a few pens, a very old camera, a rather large multi-tool camping knife, a colorfully woven, empty change purse that looked like it had been made somewhere in South America and the remains of a small ball of yarn with a crochet needle stuck through it. Leave it to Nana to have such an eclectic collection of items.

Mandi picked up the journal and did a quick flip of the pages. They were yellowing around the edges and one had what looked like coffee stains. “Journal #2” was written inside the cover, but there wasn’t another notebook in the drawer. Apparently, Nana had another tucked away somewhere. What was odd was that this one was mostly empty. There were only a few entries, the first of which was dated a couple of decades ago, around the time when Mandi’s mother left town. She held Nana’s difficult-to-read cursive scribbles up to the light.

I haven’t written in many, many years. Not since returning to Turtleback. But I thought it was time to try again. I haven’t been able to write since I lost the two most important people in my life. The only trusted, loved, closest friends I’ve ever had and ever will. That pain still lingers in my chest and haunts me in the early morning hours when I walk the beach. They would have loved this beach. They would have understood my need to protect the turtle nests...to save lives. Lives hidden secretly beneath the sand, waiting for the chance to break free and truly live. But some secrets can never surface. They would have understood that, too.

After they died, writing about my days didn’t seem as important as returning home, picking up the pieces, building a new life and figuring out how I was going to raise my unborn child. I had survived the worst in life and knew I’d survive this, but I didn’t know I’d fail at it. I failed my only child. I spoiled John when I thought I was giving him everything I didn’t have. He has never learned the true value of life...and love. Audra left them last night. She left John and her sweet little girl without warning. I sensed it would happen sooner or later. It makes me so sad to know that Mandi won’t have her mother around. I love that little girl with all my heart. I’ll be there for her. I’ll do my best and hope that this time, I won’t fail at parenthood. My hope for her is that she will someday experience love as deeply as I have and that it never leaves her behind.

Mandi wiped her face on her sleeve, but the tears kept falling. All she’d ever been told was that her grandfather had died at war. Nana had never expressed or shown in any way just how heartbroken she was, nor had she mentioned this other friend in her life. What secrets was she talking about that could never surface? Did everyone have secrets they were keeping from her? Like Gray?

Mandi grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Her grandmother didn’t say anything specific about why Audra had left. All she’d ever told Mandi was that it wasn’t because of her. And her father had declared the subject off-limits more than once, during her teen years.

She turned to the next page and double-checked the date. This entry was only written about two years ago. That was strange. It seemed that her grandmother’s attempt to start journaling again hadn’t worked out. Why? There weren’t any entries made during the years since Mandi’s mother, Audra, had abandoned them. The only other entry was on the day Mandi had almost become a bride. It was a little shorter and the handwriting slightly messier, no doubt a reflection of Nana’s age and arthritis.

I failed again. Mandi did find the kind of love I had wished for her, but I had asked for it to never leave her. Love didn’t leave Mandi. I know this because I saw the pain she left in her wake. She was the one to abandon love. Maybe her father was right, for once, in saying that she was too young. He and Audra had been too young. I hope that someday Mandi embraces her inner strength and confidence and proves to herself that she can achieve anything she puts her mind to. I hope she finds success and understands the true meaning of it. And, most importantly, I hope she learns to love herself.

Mandi closed the journal. She had no more tears. Instead, she suddenly felt empty and cold. She’d never known anyone to exude confidence like her grandmother. Nana had been her rock. Yet, these two entries mentioned failure and loss. They were tinged with disappointment. Why hadn’t she written about the good times, when Mandi was growing up? Had she been too busy helping to raise her? Did she only write about bad times? If so, that made Mandi wonder even more what her secrets were and where the first journal was hidden. Maybe it had answers. As for Mandi’s finding success, she hoped Nana had seen that happen over the past couple of years. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t written another entry. All was good and she felt Mandi had picked up the pieces of her life and was on the right track. She had told Mandi, during her last visit to New York, that she was proud of her.

Mandi shut the drawer and quickly rummaged through the opposite nightstand, top shelf in the small closet and dresser drawers. The other journal wasn’t in the room, but she’d find it. Not this minute—for all the hours she’d spent trying to sleep, her body and mind felt wrung dry—but she would probably find it while sorting through Nana’s belongings. She turned off the light.

“Nana, if you can hear me now, know that you didn’t fail. You were always amazing and so important to me. I won’t fail you. I’ll prove you did everything right. I will be strong and I’ll continue to prove I can be successful. I promise.”

She would. As soon as she wrapped things up in Turtleback, she was more determined than ever to put all her drive and energy into her new job She’d make that advertising company wish they could clone her. She’d make other companies in New York wish they could have her. She’d channel her grandmother’s strength and show the world what she could do.

Her stomach growled and she pressed her hand against it. She didn’t actually have an appetite, but maybe the lack of food had something to do with how weak she felt.

She walked over to the window and peered out. The beach was dark and quiet with nothing moving but the moonlight skipping on the water. She closed the blinds and went to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would be enough to shut her stomach up and open up her appetite. And going through emails might get her mind off things.

She turned on the kitchen light, set the water to boil and checked messages on her phone while her laptop booted up on the breakfast table. A few messages were from new acquaintances at work letting her know about where they were planning to meet for Friday night happy hour. She ignored them. One was from Lana, her college apartment roommate and friend sending her sympathy from New York. She’d met her through the same master’s program. Mandi sent her a quick reply. She scrolled down and almost missed the one from a name she recognized as Nana’s lawyer and old friend.

She had forgotten all about that part of dealing with a loved one’s passing. She was supposed to meet him this morning at nine regarding Nana’s will. He was confirming the time. She’d be there, but she dreaded it. Hearing Joel read off Nana’s will would only grind in the reality that had hit her today at the funeral.

She stared at the message for a second. Nana’s will. She knew she would have to help sort through her grandmother’s personal items, but in her mind, she pictured the house and everything in it as staying the same forever. But for what? Her father? He’d likely inherit it, but he had his own place on the sound side and never really cared for the cottage. He claimed that it was a money pit in need of too much restoration and repairs, especially after hurricanes. True, the salty air and frequent storms had weathered the place and it needed constant upkeep, like most homes along the Outer Banks, but it had charm and told a story, like the lines on the face of someone who’d experienced more than their share of life. Someone like Nana.

But Mandi wouldn’t be able to argue with her dad if he wanted to sell it. He never listened to her anyway. She certainly couldn’t care for it herself, not just financially in terms of repairs—she was still new at her job and had tons of college debt to pay—but logistically, too. She wouldn’t be around. A sadness enveloped her. This cottage held a lot of memories. Memories that hadn’t been captured in Nana’s journal. Sometimes a person didn’t have a choice in life. Letting go was a part of living, wasn’t it? That was one lesson she’d learned in life, so far. And if she wanted to honor her grandmother’s wish and find success in life, she’d have to let go of this place, too. She closed the lawyer’s email and held the phone to her chest. She didn’t care what was in the will. It didn’t matter.

She didn’t want to gain anything from Nana’s death. She just wanted her back.

* * *

THE LAW OFFICE of Joel Burkitt occupied a space on the second story of what was the original Turtleback volunteer fire station. The station had been moved to a more accommodating space fifteen years ago, partially funded by the sale of the original. The ground floor housed a yoga studio that most people in town claimed stayed afloat only because Joel, who owned the building, was sweet on the instructor.

Mandi noticed her father’s car parked along the street in front of the yellow building. Joel hadn’t mentioned having them both show up together, although it made sense since Nana didn’t have any other family in town. Mandi figured Joel would just give her a copy of the will, review any mention of her in it, and that would be it. That’s what she’d hoped would happen. Nothing formal or staged like in the movies. She pulled up behind her dad’s car and went inside, noting the studio had only two students in it, currently in mountain poses. She climbed the steps to the Burkitt Law Office and knocked before entering.

“Mandi, thanks for joining us. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch you yesterday at the service,” Joel said, waving her in.

“No worries. Hi, Dad.” She shook Joel’s hand and sat on the empty chair next to her father.

“Mandi.” John nodded his welcome, then motioned around the room. “Hard to believe you could have been sharing this practice with Joel by now. A shame, really.”

“Seriously, Dad?” She couldn’t believe he was embarrassing her by bringing up the fact that she had refused to go to law school and, according to him, had thrown away an opportunity he’d set up for her to work with Burkitt and eventually take over his practice when he retired.

Joel cleared his throat.

“Law isn’t for everyone, John. And not everyone makes it in,” he said, barely raising a brow as he looked over at her dad. “Although, I’m sure if Mandi had wanted to and had applied, she would have been accepted.”

Wow. Had her dad been rejected from law school back in his day? Why hadn’t she heard about that? Did Nana know? Or had her son applied without telling her...in case he didn’t make it in. It would be just like him to go about things in a way that allowed him to cover up failure and save face. John dropped the subject. That said something.

Joel took a third chair from the corner of the room and placed it next to her. Mandi frowned. Her father uncrossed his legs.

“Is someone else joining us?” he asked, sitting straighter.

“Sorry if I kept you all waiting,” Gray said, as he entered the room without bothering to knock.

Neither Mandi nor John said anything. Joel greeted Grayson by his full name and motioned for him to sit. Why did Gray’s being here surprise her? Of course Nana would have left something for Gray to remember her by. She had treated him like family and he’d been good to her. Mandi would always be grateful that he had been a good neighbor to Nana and had kept an eye out for her. It was just that... Mandi hadn’t expected to see him today. Seeing him did things to her. It shook the ground beneath her feet. Gray’s eyes met hers and she quickly looked away and focused on Mr. Burkitt.

“What’s he doing here?” John asked, not bothering to mask his disapproval. Joel shot her father a professional smile.

“Everyone here is mentioned in the will and, although I had intended to meet with Dr. Zale separately, I realized late last night that your mother had specifically requested a group reading. Dr. Zale was kind enough to adjust his schedule this morning at the last minute. Today is about your mother’s wishes, John. Not yours. And now that we’re all here, let’s get started. This shouldn’t take long.” Joel shuffled through some papers, straightened the ones he needed, then began reading the initial formality and a list of animal and children’s charities she had bequeathed money to. “For you, John, your mother left you the sum of ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten?”

Mandi and Gray exchanged looks. Her father wasn’t shocked in a positive way. Nope. His face turned a purply shade of red. The sum total Nana had given to charity was more than twice what she’d give to her own son.

“That’s what it says, John. As for you, Mandi, you now own half of her house and all of its contents, including—your grandmother has specified—the antique pottery bowl handed down from her side of the family and all of her jewelry.”

The color rose in her father’s neck and his expression tightened. Direct mention of that bowl was a definite dig on Nana’s part. She knew her son well and he’d nagged her one too many times about getting it appraised and possibly selling it. After all, a chunk of pottery didn’t really serve a purpose in his eyes. He didn’t value history. He only worried about the future.

“I assume, then, the other half of the house is mine,” John said. He seemed mollified enough. Half a house softened the blow the measly ten grand had given him.

Mandi didn’t understand him. She never would. Ten thousand would make a huge dent in her graduate school debt, not to mention credit card. Not that she’d take it even if he offered. Money gave him control. She did learn from history and she wasn’t letting him ever have a say in her future.

“Actually,” Joel said, nudging his glasses higher on his nose, studying the document for confirmation, then looking up at Gray. “It says here that the other half of the house belongs to you, Dr. Zale. And that the property cannot be sold or leased without both parties agreeing to the arrangement.”

“What?” The question shot out of her father and Gray simultaneously. Mandi had no words. She couldn’t wrap her head around what had just been said. Gray owned half of the house? They shared Nana’s house?

“This isn’t happening,” she muttered, sinking in her chair. She clutched her purse and closed her eyes. Why, Nana? Why? Her father stood up and braced his hands on the edge of the desk.

“Are you sure? She was old. Were you there when she wrote this up? Was she coherent? Was she of sound mind?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mandi said.

“Sit down, John. And yes, I’m sure. And for the record, I’ve never known your mother to be anything but sharp and sound minded.”

John sat, shifting his weight to one side and grinding his jaw. Gray pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head for a moment, the way he did whenever he needed to gather his thoughts. Mandi would bet her life he wasn’t comfortable with the situation. She knew him well enough to know he didn’t want or expect anything from her grandmother. He took a deep breath and let it out, then leaned forward in his chair.

“Does she explain why? Like, what I’m supposed to do with it or what she wants done with it?” Gray asked.

“There is a little more. A note. It says, To Dr. Grayson Zale, I leave you half of my property, to be shared with my granddaughter, Mandi Rivers. I hope you can carry on our work protecting the beach and saving the turtles. You were like a grandson to me and we were more alike than you’ll ever know. We cared about the same things in life, you and I. Keep it all close to your heart.”

There was a moment of silence as Joel linked his fingers.

“That’s all she has, apart from stating that anything not mentioned specifically should be assumed to belong to Mandi.”

“I share a house with Gray.” It was all she could say. It was surreal. Cruel. Nana wouldn’t do that to her.

“If you’re done, then I’m leaving,” John said. He scowled as he stormed out of the room, but Mandi saw his eyes beginning to water and his chin quiver when he thought they could see only his back. Her heart went out to him. The man had his faults, but he was human. No doubt he was upset about the money, but his pride and feelings had been hurt, too. They had to have been. Was this Nana’s way of trying to teach him what mattered in life? That it wasn’t about money and possessions?

“These are for the two of you.” Burkitt held out two copies of Nana’s house keys.

Gray had a key to the house.

She really needed to go back to bed.

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