Maybe We Will (Silver Harbor) Read online

  She walked away, nibbling on the sweet croissant, but she couldn’t resist taking one last peek over her shoulder. Aiden was standing on the side of the patio watching her. Butterflies took flight in her stomach as he flashed that sexy grin and waved.

  Real smooth, Abby.

  She hurried toward the street. He was probably just as bad for her as the croissant—and even more delicious.

  By the time Abby made it back to her mother’s house, she’d devoured the croissant despite the butterflies nesting in her belly and mulled over her conversation with Aiden at least a dozen times. It had been so long since she’d flirted with a guy, she was kind of proud that she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself. Well, except for the underwear model debacle.

  She walked down the narrow dirt road to her mother’s driveway on the outskirts of Silver Haven, feeling lighter than she had when she’d left. But the sight of Deirdra’s car parked in front of their funky four-bedroom, three-bath bungalow brought a knot of tension. While Abby didn’t even own a car, her control-freak sister had brought hers with her on the ferry.

  Their mother’s house also had a one-car garage with an apartment above it and a gorgeous view of the water, which Deirdra called their saving grace. The house looked as haggard as her mother had when Abby had visited over the holidays. The picket fence was missing boards, the lawn was long and uncared for, the vegetable and flower gardens overgrown with knee-high tangles of weeds. The white siding on the house was so dirty it looked gray, but the wide front porch still held memories of Abby singing with her mother as her father stood at his easel painting with the wind in his hair and the familiar spark of happiness in his eyes.

  Deirdra had it all wrong.

  The view she deemed as their saving grace was something everyone on that side of the island had. It was gorgeous and it added to their property value, but to Abby, her cherished memories were the real saving graces.

  She held on to those treasured thoughts as she breezed through the front door, humming as she walked into the crowded living room, refusing to stress over Deirdra’s mood or the boxes and piles of magazines, records, books, and other things littering the floor. It was as if time had stopped when their father passed away. Their mother had never gotten rid of any of his belongings. Abby had already begun going through the living room, but she didn’t want to think about how difficult it would be to go through the other rooms. She was glad Deirdra would be there with her. She’d been embarrassed when her mother’s friends had stopped by over the last couple of days, bringing casseroles and pies and all sorts of other food, and had seen the mess. The freezer and refrigerator were packed full, and the counters held so many dishes, it looked like they were having a potluck gathering. You’d think her mother had just passed away. But that was life on Silver Island, where everyone pulled together during difficult times. Her mother’s friends had all known of her alcoholism, and Abby remembered the carefully choreographed dance of talking around the elephant in the room when she’d see them at the Bistro or around town. Thankfully, they had never looked down on her or Deirdra because of it.

  Abby found her sister pacing in the cozy, though outdated, kitchen with her cell phone pressed to her ear. They shared the same brownish-blond hair color, but while Abby’s was coarse and rebellious, always appearing a little messy, Deirdra had been blessed with silky hair that looked perfect at any length. Her natural waves fell just past her shoulders. As always, Deirdra was ready to take on the day, although she looked like she was going out for drinks in the Hamptons in her skinny jeans, white-and-blue-striped shirt, a pink blazer with the sleeves rolled up, and sharp strappy sandals.

  “Damn it, Malcolm, this is the one week—” Deirdra pursed her lips, anger simmering in her mossy-green eyes. Malcolm was her stern sixty-year-old boss. “No. I need to be here.” She paused, listening. “Fine. I’ll see you Friday afternoon.” She ended the call and grumbled, “Bastard.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Deirdra put her phone in her pocket, closing her eyes. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, her eyes opening as a calm came over her like a curtain. The momentary slip in her behavior was pushed aside as if that part of her didn’t matter. But it did matter. Abby missed the unpredictable side of her sister, which she’d lost when their mother had started drinking.

  “The shit hit the fan, of course.” Deirdra’s gaze softened, and she said, “I’m sorry, Abby. I know I promised to help you go through Mom’s things this week, but this is my—”

  “It’s okay,” Abby said, cheerily masking her disappointment. Deirdra was a corporate attorney for a major Boston tech company. Abby knew how much pressure her sister was under and how overwhelming her schedule was. It had only gotten worse since her promotion last year. Even though they were very different by nature, they usually enjoyed each other’s company, and they used to make time to see each other one weekend each month, but ever since Deirdra’s promotion, those get-togethers had been few and far between. They hadn’t seen each other since their brief visit with their mother over Christmas.

  “I can handle going through Mom’s things. Like I said last night, I’m here for however long it takes, so I have plenty of time.”

  “Even the junk room?” Deirdra arched a brow.

  The famed junk room, aka the Bermuda Triangle, was down the hall from the kitchen. Abby was pretty sure it was meant to be the master bedroom because it protruded from the back of the house, had two walk-in closets, a full bath, and three walls of nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, offering exceptional views of the water. They had used it as a playroom when they were young, and even back then the closets had been packed with boxes. Sometime after their father died, it had become the junk room—a catchall for everything from outgrown toys and clothes to broken furniture.

  “That might take a bulldozer,” Abby joked. “I don’t mind doing it alone. I was just looking forward to spending time with you, beyond the Mom stuff and the restaurant.” She lifted one shoulder and said, “I miss you, Dee. You know what? After you’re done with whatever you’re dealing with at work, if you can’t come to see me, I’ll come to Boston and hang out for a weekend.”

  “Thank you for understanding, but I’ll be back my next free weekend. I don’t want to leave you with this nightmare.”

  “It’s only a nightmare to you because you resent Mom so much. What’s happening at work, anyway? What’s so dire that they need you back so fast?”

  Deirdra gave her a deadpan look. “You know my work is confidential.”

  “Really? I’m your sister. Who am I going to tell?” Abby opened the fridge and dug out a water bottle. “Fine, keep your lips sealed and I won’t tell you about the hot guy I met when I was out running.” She opened the bottle and took a drink as she sauntered out of the kitchen.

  “If you’re talking about Wells Silver, I’ll slaughter you for even looking at the hot two-timer,” Deirdra called after her.

  Abby had gone out with Wells briefly in high school, until she’d found out that he was also seeing her best friend, Leni Steele. They’d both ditched his cheating ass. She went upstairs to her bedroom, remembering the chicks-before-dicks pact she and Leni had come up with after that. But while Silver Island had three primary schools, it had only one high school, and before long they’d forgiven Wells for his indiscretion. Mostly, anyway. Leni still carried a chip on her shoulder about it.

  She turned on the shower, and as the water heated, Aiden’s sexy smile and serious eyes pushed to the forefront of her mind. She touched the back of her hand, thinking about his warm, soft lips and the spark of heat in his eyes when he’d said, I go down, you go down. Her body shuddered with the tease of something more.

  She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, wondering if she’d misconstrued heat for mischief. Even if she had, a girl could fantasize, couldn’t she? She closed her eyes, letting the water rain down her face and body, and imagined Aiden’s dark eyes and tantalizing lips and his rich voic
e whispering in her ear, Only for very special people . . .

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re wearing a dress. I haven’t seen you in a dress in years,” Deirdra said as they climbed out of Deirdra’s car at the Bistro, where they were meeting Shelley. “You look great, but I swear to you, if that’s for Wells . . .”

  “It’s not for Wells. We haven’t seen Shelley in months, and I want to look nice for her.” Abby wasn’t about to tell her that she’d dressed up in case she ran into Aiden again. It felt good to wear something pretty. She’d paired a floral sundress with a dressy button-down, which she’d left open, and wore cute ankle boots. She felt young and fresh, which was a big change from the woman who stood behind ovens for sixty-plus hours each week. She was never going to give up being a chef, but maybe she could fit in a few days each month of doing something just for her. “Besides, look at what you have on. Who wears a blazer at the beach? That can’t be comfortable.” She thought of Aiden’s khakis and loafers and almost allowed her mind to put the two sharp dressers together. But she wasn’t that generous.

  “It’s soft and extremely comfortable, thank you very much,” Deirdra said as they walked around to the front of the restaurant.

  Abby’s hopes deflated at the sight of the empty patio. She imagined him hauling the table and chair he’d brought back to his room at the resort with his newspaper and book tucked under one arm. She’d been silly to get her hopes up. What did she think? That a handsome, charming guy like him had nothing better to do than sit on a patio all day to see if she returned? He probably had women at his beck and call.

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that Mom needed Shelley to go over her estate with us?” Deirdra asked, pulling Abby from her thoughts. “It’s not like she had anything more than the house and the business.”

  “I’m thankful Shelley was there to help her. But everything Mom did was weird, don’t you think? She never even told us she was sick. I keep thinking about the last time she called, two weeks before she died. She was saying goodbye, but she never gave us a chance to say it back.”

  When Shelley had called to let Abby know their mother had passed away, Abby had asked her why their mother hadn’t told them she was sick or given them a chance to come home and be with her to say goodbye. Shelley had said that she didn’t want to be more of a burden to them, and she hadn’t wanted them to remember her as bedridden and sickly. She’d said it was bad enough that she’d been drunk for half their lives. On some level Abby appreciated that, but to Deirdra it was another strike against their mother.

  “That was Mom,” Deirdra said. “Selfish as the day was long.”

  Abby was hurt by Deirdra’s cold tone. “She missed Dad.”

  “So did we, Abby. It was her job to take care of us, not the other way around.”

  Same talk, different day.

  Abby opened the door to the restaurant, and they stood in the entryway, taking in stacks of dusty tables and chairs, candle votives, and other restaurant paraphernalia. The wallpaper looked ancient, not elegant as she’d remembered. The rafters that had once held fancy lights were covered with cobwebs, as if the romantic decor of their youth had been only a dream. With the windows boarded up, the room felt cold and desolate, as ignored and cluttered as their mother’s house.

  “It smells like a mausoleum,” Deirdra said.

  “It’s musty. We’ll air it out.” She propped the door open and headed inside. “Are you coming?”

  Deirdra stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a look of disgust on her face. “You can’t be serious. We’re not sitting in there. It’s awful. I say we lock it up, take that offer, and run.”

  Abby sighed. “This was Daddy’s dream. Don’t you remember how he taught us to cook here? Friday nights dancing with him on that very patio? Watching him and Mom mingle and dance? How can you want to leave all that behind?”

  “It’s called living in the present, Abby. Dad’s been gone for nineteen years.” She softened her tone and said, “I know how much you miss him. I do, too. But you’ve worked hard to get where you are at your job, and this is a money pit. The whole thing needs to be redone. Not to mention that neither of us knows a darn thing about running this place.”

  “Excuse me?” Abby said sharply. “I’ve been a cook for years, and we worked here every night from the time we were nine and eleven and all summer, every summer. I basically ran the place after graduating from high school. We know enough to make it work.”

  “You’re such a dreamer.” Deirdra shook her head and walked away. She stood at the edge of the patio with her back to Abby, arms crossed, gazing out at the water.

  Abby was used to their differences, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed arguing with Deirdra. She went to her, but rather than argue, she watched the sandpipers along the shore and let the sounds of the waves calm her.

  “It’s a mistake, Abby,” Deirdra said softly. “I love you, but I can’t give up a six-figure career for memories I’d like to forget.”

  Abby felt like she’d been poked with a hot needle. “You want to forget Dad?”

  Deirdra turned with glassy eyes and said, “No, of course not. But everything after he died?” She nodded solemnly. “Everything but you.”

  Tears rose in Abby’s eyes.

  “Excuse me . . . ?”

  They both turned at the unfamiliar voice, meeting the cautious eyes of a tall woman with jet-black hair cut just below her ears and porcelain skin. She looked like the lead actress from Blindspot. Her gray sweater hung loosely over her lithe frame. Her legs went on forever, and her cropped jeans revealed a swath of pale skin decorated with a colorful tattoo a few inches above her flat, black leather ankle boots.

  “Hi,” Abby said.

  The woman looked down at an envelope she was fidgeting with, and Abby noticed tattoos on the back of her hand and snaking out from the edge of her collar.

  “I’m looking for Shelley Steele.” Her voice was as cautious as her green eyes.

  “Shelley?” Abby said, exchanging a curious glance with Deirdra. “She should be here soon. I’m Abby and this is my sister, Deirdra. We’re actually meeting with Shelley this morning. How did you know she’d be here?”

  She looked down at the envelope in her hand again, her finely manicured brows knitting as she held it out to them, her unsure eyes moving between Abby and Deirdra. “She sent me this letter and asked me to come here.”

  Deirdra took the envelope and read the letter with a pinched expression. “This says our mother left you something in her will. Your name is Cait Weatherby?”

  Cait nodded.

  Deirdra looked at Abby, her silent question—Do you know her?—hanging between them. Abby shook her head. Deirdra handed Cait the envelope and said, “How did you know our mother?”

  “I didn’t,” Cait said softly.

  “You didn’t know her at all and she left you something? Are you sure? Ava de Messiéres?” Deirdra sounded out their last name slowly—de mess-ee-ay. “She was tall, about my height, and skinny, with shoulder-length sandy hair and a gap between her two front teeth like Lauren Hutton.”

  Cait shook her head again.

  “Have you ever been here before? Maybe you met her in the restaurant,” Abby suggested. “She could have taken a liking to you. Are you an artist?”

  “This is my first time on the island. I’m a tattooist and body piercer at Wicked Ink on Cape Cod.” There was a quiet strength behind Cait’s voice that was at odds with her fidgeting hands. She slid one arm across her stomach and leaned her other elbow on her wrist, her knuckle grazing her chin, as if she needed a barrier, a shield of protection.

  “Okay,” Abby said. “I don’t know if our mother had hidden tattoos or piercings, but it wouldn’t surprise me. She could have been one of your clients.”

  “Sorry I’m late!” Shelley exclaimed as she flew around the side of the building, a whirlwind in jeans and a blue clingy top, carrying a thick messenger bag. “The meeting at the winery went
on forever.” She was a big, beautiful woman with long auburn hair and bangs that made her look like she was in her forties rather than fifties. She had a zest for life, a heart of gold, and a contagious smile.

  “Shelley.” Abby hugged her, and Shelley enveloped her in the maternal warmth Abby knew she’d never get enough of. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart.” Shelley embraced Deirdra and said, “I’ve missed you, too, honey.”

  “Me too, Shelley. Thanks for taking care of Mom’s will.”

  “I loved her, and I love you girls.” Shelley turned to Cait with a warm smile and said, “You must be Cait Weatherby.”

  Cait nodded.

  “I’m Shelley, and, darlin’, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Shelley embraced her, but Cait stood rigid, her face a mask of apprehension. When Shelley let go, Cait’s breath rushed from her lungs, as if she’d been holding it.

  “I assume you girls know each other now?” Shelley asked, her eyes moving between the three of them.

  “Yes,” Abby said. “But we’re confused. Cait said she didn’t know Mom, but the letter said Mom left her something?”

  “That’s right, honey. Why don’t we go inside and sit down,” Shelley suggested.

  “That’s a big no,” Deirdra said. “It’s pretty bad in there.”

  “We can bring chairs and a table out here. Come on, Dee. I’ll wipe them off.” Abby hurried into the restaurant, and Deirdra and Cait followed her in.

  The three of them set up a table and chairs on the patio. Abby and Cait wiped them down while Deirdra took a call from Malcolm. When they finally gathered around the table, Shelley seemed a little uneasy with the three of them looking at her expectantly. The buzz of the unknown reminded Abby of the day many years ago when Shelley had sat her down and told her that her mother was not her responsibility and that she needed to study hard and get a scholarship so she could one day leave the island and build her own life. Deirdra had been in her first year of college and doing just that, but at the time Abby couldn’t imagine leaving her mother, who, though she was a functioning alcoholic during the day, at night was nearly drowning in her sorrows and threatening to take everything else down with her.