It Had to Be You

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“Please don’t tell me I missed her again?” He’d been trying unsuccessfully for the past two days to reach her, and the frustration was evident in his voice. If every minute of his stay in Castine hadn’t been packed, he would have simply driven over and planted himself in her drawing room until she had time to talk to him. But he knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t leaving Blue Hill until he saw her again, even if that meant tracking her down wherever she might be now.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. She’s in the studio, Mr. West”

He felt the tension in his shoulders ease, and he smiled. “Call me Jake. And where’s the studio?”

“It’s the little room off the kitchen.”

“Would it be all right if I go back?”

“Sure. Aunt Maggie won’t mind,” Abby said breezily, ignoring the worried look that Allison sent her way as she stepped outside. “It’s just down the hall and through the door at the end.”

“Thanks.” Jake turned to find Allison in the doorway.

“Hello, Mr. West,” Allison greeted him.

Jake grinned at her. “No one’s called me ‘Mr.’ in years. Just Lieutenant. And both of those sound too formal now. So how about we just make it Jake?”

Allison smiled. “Okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you ladies later.”

Allison watched him disappear, then turned to her sister with a worried frown. “Why did you send him back there?” she demanded urgently. “You know Aunt Maggie said never interrupt her when she’s painting, unless it’s an emergency.”

Abby gave her sister a condescending look. “Allison, Aunt Maggie’s love life is an emergency.”

Allison clamped her lips shut How could she argue with Abby—especially when her sister was right?

Maggie tilted her head and frowned. She wanted the seascape to convey restlessness, inner turbulence, the sense of impending fury. But she wasn’t quite there yet. Considering her firsthand knowledge of the ocean, and given that her own emotional state paralleled the scene she was trying to paint today, it ought to be easy to transfer those feelings to canvas. But the mood was eluding her, and that was frustrating.

A firm tap sounded on the door, and Maggie glanced toward it in annoyance. Why were the twins bothering her? They were old enough now to handle most of the so-called crises that occurred at the inn. But maybe there truly was an emergency of some kind, she thought In sudden alarm she reached for a rag to wipe her brush, psyching herself up to deal with whatever crisis awaited her. “Come in.”

The “crisis” that appeared when the door swung open was not one she was prepared for, however. What on earth was Jake doing here, in her private retreat? She stared at him in surprise as her heart kicked into double time. Try as she might, she couldn’t control the faint flush that crept onto her cheeks, or stop the sudden tremble that rippled over her hands.

Jake smiled engagingly. “Abby said I could come back. I hope you don’t mind. But I’m on my way back to Boston, and this was my last chance to see you before I left We didn’t seem to have much success connecting by phone.”

“Y-yes, I know.” Why did her voice sound so shaky? “Sorry about that I was at a zoning board meeting the first night you called, and running errands the other times.” That was better. Steadier and more in control.

“So the girls told me.” He propped one shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest. “You continue to amaze me, Maggie. I don’t remember that you ever had any interest in politics or government, local or otherwise, and now you’re on the zoning board?”

She carefully set the brush down and reached for a different rag to wipe her hands on, using that as an excuse to escape his warm, disquieting gaze. “Well, I’m part of the business community of this town. It’s my home. I feel a certain sense of responsibility to do my part to make sure Blue Hill retains the qualities that attracted me in the first place.”

“Once again, I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. A lot of people do a whole lot more than me.”

He didn’t agree, but rather than debate the point, he strolled into the studio, his gaze assessing. It was a small room, illuminated by the light from a large picture window on one side. Unlike his image of the stereotypical messy artist’s studio, however, this one was neat and orderly. A couple of canvases in various stages of completion stood on easels, and several other finished works were stacked against one wall.

But what captured his attention most were the posters. Vienna. Florence. Rome. Paris. London. Athens. As his gaze moved from one to another, he realized that these were the places he and Maggie had planned to visit together. And he realized something else, as well. He’d seen most of them, while Maggie had been confined to rural Maine, coping with responsibilities that even now her slender shoulders seemed too fragile to bear. His dream of travel had become reality; hers had remained a dream.

He looked down at her slim form silhouetted against the window, the sun forming a halo around her hair, and his throat tightened. He wished with all his heart that he could take her to all the exotic places pictured on her walls. She would love them, he knew, would be as awed as he had been on his first visit But maybe…maybe she’d managed to see one or two, he thought hopefully.

He nodded toward the walls. “Nice posters,” he remarked casually. “Are any of them souvenirs?”

She gave him a wry smile and shook her head, dashing his hopes. “Hardly. B&B owners may cater to travelers, but they do very little traveling themselves. Especially with two girls to raise. I’ve stayed pretty close to home all these years. I expect you’ve made it to some, or all, of these spots, though.”

He nodded, trying to stem the surge of guilt that swept over him. “Yes.”

“Are they as wonderful as we…as people say?” she asked, the slightly wistful note in her voice producing an almost physical ache in his heart.

“Mmm-hmm.” He cleared his throat, but still the huskiness in his voice remained. “I’m sorry you never got to see them, Maggie.”