“No, it’s all right. She left.”
Heather swung her head up. “She left?”
Cara appeared a bit nervous. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. And, well . . .”
“What did you do?” Heather asked, alert.
Cara shrugged. “I asked her if your father knew what she’d said to you. It was obvious he did not.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Heather said. “You didn’t threaten to tell him?”
“Not exactly. I suggested she tell him. Because you weren’t going back home to that toxic environment. Then I asked her to leave.” She looked warily at Heather, gauging her reaction.
“Why did you do that?” Heather asked, incredulous.
“Because you’re my friend. And no one talks to my friend like that.”
Heather saw the fierce loyalty in Cara’s eyes, and a thousand thoughts flew through her mind. She’d lain there thinking of all the things she wanted to tell Natalie. Some of them real zingers. And now she wouldn’t have the chance.
She cringed. But would she really have said them? Or would she have caved, as she always did with Natalie? Of course she would have. She always ran from confrontation. She liked to think she would have stuck up for herself in the end—but now she would never know. She felt like such a loser. Why couldn’t she be more like Cara? Cara had stood up for her as a friend. And Heather loved her for it. That alone was almost worth all this drama. And the sense of relief that Natalie was gone and she wouldn’t have to go out to dinner with her was so acute she nearly sagged back into her pillows.
She looked at Cara, suddenly feeling very tired. “Okay,” she said.
Cara sighed with relief. “Okay,” she repeated. She smiled at her. Then, lifting her head, she sniffed the air and looked quickly around the room. “Is that jasmine?” She looked at Heather with attention. “Are you wearing my mother’s scent?”
Heather shook her head and released a small, knowing smile.
Cara’s eyes widened, and she gasped with understanding. “I smell it, too!” she said with joy. “At last!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE STRUCTURE ROSE among the trees looking like it was part of them. Gazing at it, Bo felt his chest swell. He had never felt prouder of anything he’d made.
The tree house was a small space, only one room, nestled among the strong branches and foliage of neighboring trees. He’d built in bookshelves, nooks and crannies. Electricity, of course. The wooden walkway from the house’s deck to the tree house was very Swiss Family Robinson. The small space was meant to be an office for the homeowner. Bo thought if it was his, he’d put a bed in there and dream of jungles.
It was the first tree house he’d built. He’d designed it with his friend, an architect, more than a year earlier. He spent months tweaking the plan, taking his time, until the owner was satisfied. Then he’d gathered a crew of builders he knew were up to the task. Getting the materials to the island required special handling. Finally, after a year of prep and planning, the whole team had come together. The project had been more fun than he’d expected: when it was time to finally construct the tree house, every single guy on his team was excited to see it take shape, as giddy as though they were young boys again watching their dream fortress materialize.
The first person he wanted to show the tree house to was Heather. In the span of one summer, she’d quickly become the most important person in his world. When he’d described the project—and his fears about it—she’d listened quietly, as was her style. Then she’d looked at him and said, “You’re afraid because this isn’t just another job. This project represents what you really want to do. It’s creative. It’s art. And it’s important. If you succeed”—she smiled—“you’ve proved what you’re capable of, not just to the world, but to yourself. Failing would crush that dream. I have faith in you. But you need to have faith in yourself. This is your baby. Own it.”
And now it was done. He looked at his watch. She’d arrive on Dewees soon. He didn’t want to be late to pick up Heather at the ferry. God, he’d missed her. The more time they spent together, the more he discovered they had in common. Music, art, humor, quiet times, dawns, sunsets, being outdoors. They were like two sides of one coin.
He loved her. He didn’t question that. She was his best friend. She cared about his day, lifted his spirits when he was down, and celebrated his accomplishments. And she was always so grateful for anything he did, great or small, to show her how much he loved her, which let him know that she loved him, too.
Her loving him made him want to be a better man. To be worthy of her. He looked again at the tree house. He had to admit, it was nothing short of spectacular.
A knock on the front door of the main house drew his attention. He hurried through the rooms and swung wide the door. A small blond woman wearing a crisp white shirt with DEWEES ISLAND embroidered on the pocket smiled warmly at him.
“Judy!” Bo said with surprise. Judy Fairchild was the island’s manager. She oversaw just about everything that happened on the small island, especially construction. She looked perky and cute and was easy to work with, but looks could be deceiving. She was sweet, but she was also as smart as a whip. Nothing slipped past her, whether it was about construction, sewers, or wildlife. The woman was a walking encyclopedia. She mixed it up with the guys, but always knew when to bring down the hammer. And he respected her for it. She was likely coming to take another look at the tree house, make certain it didn’t violate any island codes. Luckily, Bo had been careful and precise.
Judy walked into the house and looked around, no doubt making sure he was keeping everything tidy. She felt a personal responsibility to the owners to check their property when they were out of town. Especially when work was being done.
“I expect you want another look at the tree house?”
“Actually, not this time,” Judy said. “There’s something else I’d like to discuss with you, if you have a minute.”
“Why, sure, of course.” He glanced at the clock, but saw he still had a good forty-five minutes before the ferry arrived.
Judy went to sit in one of the dozen chairs positioned around the long wood table. The dining room had large windows that offered tremendous views of the small lake outside. Bo spent most nights sitting on the screened deck just outside, staring at the birds as the sun set. Naturally, the sight always made him think of Heather.
He brought two glasses of water to the table and took a seat beside Judy. They exchanged a few words about the tree house. She checked on the schedule for equipment and trash removal by barge. Then she leaned forward and folded her hands on the table.
“You know everyone on Dewees thinks very highly of you.”