“How did it go?” she asks, lifting her face for a kiss. “What did she say?”
We sit down, and I tell her everything Louise Butler told me about Maggie Hamilton and Jeffrey Butler’s affair.
“That’s what I was trying to remember,” Liv says. “Last fall when Maggie confronted me, she said something about Jeffrey Butler liking female students, and not in a professional way.”
“I guess she liked him too, if Louise Butler is telling the truth.”
“Can we tell Ben Stafford about this?” Liv asks.
I shrug. “Yeah, but I don’t know that it would do any good. They can’t kick Maggie out of the university for having had an affair. Jeffrey Butler is already retired. Stafford won’t pursue the case just because Butler’s ex-wife has it out for Maggie. And I sure as hell don’t want him to.”
Liv frowns. “It’s just so unfair. I hate that Maggie wins.”
“She doesn’t win.” I put my hands on her knees. “No one who lies like that wins.”
The creases on Liv’s forehead ease a little. Something loosens inside me, like a knot untangling.
“Do you remember that time when we talked about keys?” I ask.
“Of course. You said everyone has a key to unlocking their secrets.” Liv covers my hands with hers. “And you’ve always been mine.”
I turn my palms upward so we can twine our fingers together.
“On our second date, you said that string figures and medieval knights were my keys,” I say. “It’s funny, but until you said that I didn’t realize I still remembered the chivalric code that I’d learned about when I was a kid. Honor, trust, loyalty. I wanted to prove to you that I could uphold those ideals. That I was worthy.”
She tightens her hands on mine. “You’ve proven that over and over, Dean.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not always. But maybe it’s not about upholding some perfect code. Maybe it’s just about doing your best.”
And I know I’ve done that. I haven’t been able to protect Liv from so many things, but at least now I’ve blocked the storm. I’ve stopped Hamilton from destroying my reputation, dredging up my wife’s past, attacking us. I’ve battled the monsters away from our island.
Finally.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Olivia
May 26
know, right?” Allie shakes her head at me in astonishment, her red curls tumbling around her face. “The brochures went like that.”
She snaps her fingers, pleased with the success of our pre-grand-opening advertising campaign. We’ve contacted all the local media, sent out press kits, printed coupons, and set up a website. The head chef, Jan, is working overtime organizing the kitchen, Marianne is retraining the staff, and Allie and I are finishing the details of the interior design. We’re almost ready.
“When’s Kelsey getting back?” Allie asks.
“Thursday.” I check my calendar, remembering that Dean is going to pick Kelsey up from the airport when she gets back from her combination vacation and meteorology conference in Japan. I write a note to myself to make a special dinner that night so Kelsey can join us her first night home.
After conferring with Allie about our schedule, I take my laptop and go through the kitchen, where manager Brent is talking to the kitchen staff.
A ripple of excitement fills me whenever I walk through the café and hear the noise, the chatter, the sound of things happening.
I pause where Crystal is painting a border on the walls close to the ceiling. She’s been working on and off for the past few weeks, and though I haven’t seen much of her since she moved out of the apartment, I’m constantly aware of her presence.
“It looks great,” I tell her, which is the truth. The diamond-shaped border matches the playing-card motif throughout the lower floor of the café.
I’ve discovered that my mother is more talented than I knew, which both surprises me and makes me a little sad. I can’t help wondering what she could have become, if her life had been different.
“Is your car fixed yet?” I ask.
“Almost.” She wipes a drop of paint from the wall. “They had to order some part. I guess they’re waiting for it to come in. Are you leaving for the day?”
“I’m going to distribute some flyers.”
“I’ll come with you. Can you wait ten minutes?”
“Okay. I’ll be on the porch.”
I get a stack of flyers and go outside just as Dean crosses the street from his parked car. Dressed in old jeans, a sweatshirt, and work boots, he looks both comfortable and worker-guy sexy. He’s looking in the opposite direction, his stride long and confident as he approaches the café.
My heart does its usual my husband is here! twirl, but beyond that I’m struck by the looseness of Dean’s posture, the relaxed set of his shoulders. He looks at ease, almost untroubled.
He turns his head, his gaze meeting mine. He gives me that gorgeous, hint-of-wicked grin that makes my breath catch and my body hum.
“Hi.” He climbs the steps to me and brushes a kiss across my mouth. “You busy for lunch?”