“With all due respect, Mrs. Bishop, I need some time.”
Time? That’s what he’d said when they lost their jobs. But now he was here, so he must have realized he didn’t need time, he needed Marin. Why go through that same useless exercise? “You two can work this out. I know she cares about you. More than she’s cared about anyone. I saw that the first day she told me about you.”
He shook his head. “I know you’re trying to help.”
Blythe glanced back at the house. There was so much she needed to say, things he had to know before he made a decision that would hurt him and Marin and, yes, maybe even the baby. Things she’d learned only in the past month, like the way the truth always comes out. That maybe the truth isn’t as scary as you think; it’s the running away that’s the problem. The fact that family has to do with so much more than biology. That investing in loving someone is worth it.
The front door swung open and a strange woman and teenage girl walked out carrying beach chairs. The woman smiled at Blythe.
Who on earth were they? She was in the midst of a crisis, and that damn porch was becoming Grand Central Station. Before she could salvage the moment, Julian walked away.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rachel’s first morning running the inn, and breakfast was late.
She completely misjudged how long it would take to prepare Amelia’s usual spread. She thought since the only food that took real time was the broa and the orange muffins, that was all she had to account for. But it was the little things, like hard-boiling the eggs and squeezing the orange juice and cutting up the fruit salad, that threw her off. Even simply putting the organic granola into the bowl, setting out the yogurt—it all added up. The Millers patiently drank coffee while they waited. Well, the parents were patient. The two teenagers protested loudly, wanting to skip breakfast and head to the beach.
When she finally set the food out, they all made such a big deal about how good it was, she stopped beating herself up on the timing.
“This is all so delicious, Rachel—just like your grandmother makes!” Mrs. Miller said. Her husband nodded his agreement, his mouth full. Mrs. Miller told her daughter not to drink too much coffee, which got an eye-roll. Rachel was heading back to the kitchen when Mrs. Miller called out to her.
“You don’t, by any chance, have that incredible cheese?”
Cheese? Did she mean the homemade cheese? She’d forgotten all about that. She hadn’t seen it after she and Amelia had spooned the curds into cheese molds and put it in the refrigerator. Things had gotten so crazy around there.
“I don’t, but…” Was this something Amelia always put out for her guests? Did she have a responsibility to make it? There was no way. She’d mess it up. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Mrs. Miller clapped her hands like a little kid. “I just love it here. We’ve missed it so much.”
Rachel nodded, hoping the panic didn’t show on her face. She headed back into the kitchen, where Marin was making herself decaf.
Oh God. She hadn’t seen Marin since the horrendous faux pas yesterday afternoon. Marin hadn’t shown up for dinner, and neither had Blythe. Rachel ate a lobster roll alone at the Canteen.
“Marin, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was just so excited about the baby. I hope it didn’t upset you. Or him. Was that your boyfriend?”
“He used to be my boyfriend. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. He had to find out sooner or later.”
Rachel covered her face with her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, really. You did me a favor. It was like pulling off a Band-Aid, you know?” She looked out the window. “So I don’t get it. These people just showed up thinking they had a reservation and Amelia said let them stay?”
Rachel nodded, weak with relief that Marin forgave her.
Marin groaned. “I’m just not in the mood for randoms.”
“Well, think of it this way: Two months ago we were the randoms. Imagine how Kelly felt. We invaded.”
“We’re not randoms. We’re family.”
“Yeah, well, I think that’s sort of how Amelia and Kelly feel about the people who have been coming here for decades, so try to roll with it.”
“I guess. Oh—Luke’s out front. He wants to talk to you.”
“Here? Now?”
Marin nodded, poured her coffee and snagged a hard-boiled egg, and headed back up the stairs.
Rachel looked down at her flour-covered T-shirt, then brushed it off. She pulled her hair out of its rubber band and shook it loose. Oh, what difference did it make what she looked like? Friends.
She found Luke standing on the top step, facing the house. He wore navy cotton shorts and a baby-blue University of Rhode Island sweatshirt, his jaw notably covered in gold stubble. Oh, Lord help her.
“Hey,” she said as casually as she could manage. “Marin said you wanted to see me?”
Luke smiled. “Any interest in going whale watching with Bart and me? The boat leaves at eleven.”
Luke, a boat, four hours at sea in hopes of catching a glimpse of a majestic creature. It was her mermaid TV movie come to life.
“I’m busy. Thanks anyway.”
He looked genuinely disappointed. “Rachel, I meant what I said. I really do want us to be friends.”
Who cares what you want? she thought, suddenly irritable. It hurt to want someone so much. Still, it was tempting. But the laundry. The cheese!
“It’s not that. I’m actually busy. Amelia and Kelly are away, and a family showed up because they never got the cancellation of their reservation, so I’m running the inn all week.”
“Really,” he said. “That’s…great.”
“Yeah. Hey, why don’t you ask Marin to go?” There. That’s what a friend would say.
“I don’t think a whole afternoon on a boat would be her first choice for passing the time, considering…”
“Oh, you know about that?”
“Word gets around in this place.”
They stood awkwardly. “Well, thanks anyway.” With great effort, she turned and walked back into the house.
Thank you, cheese. Thank you for helping me do the right thing.
Marin couldn’t stand being alone with her thoughts. It was agony. The baby, Julian…her life was completely out of her control. There was nothing to do to occupy her mind except work on the mosaic.
It felt strange to be in the studio without Kelly, almost as if she were trespassing. Before she started working, she reread the note that had been slipped under her door:
Marin: You’ll be happy to know I told Amelia. It was rough. She wants to get away for a few days and how could I refuse? But this is throwing off my timeline for the mosaic. I really need you to start applying some of the pieces. Do the sapphire, bluebell, and arctic Venetian tile—follow my drawing. I started that area so just keep going with the pattern. When in doubt, check the sketch. Remember what I showed you about buttering the tile with the adhesive. Thanks so much and have fun with it! XO K