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“Do you have any idea when he might return?” By this point, Maisey thought the question was futile, but had to ask.
“We aren’t expecting him anytime soon,” she replied.
“Is he safe?” she asked in a small voice.
“Excuse me, miss?”
“Never mind. Thank you.” After she disconnected, she slid her phone halfway across the porch; she could no longer bear to look at it, after that news. “What the hell am I going to do now?” she asked aloud. The possibility that Keith might try to harm himself terrified her. But she couldn’t help him if she didn’t know where he was. At the moment, she wasn’t in a good situation herself. She didn’t have so much as a blanket or a pillow.
And it was growing dark.
* * *
The beach was cold and damp, but there was nowhere soft enough to lie down in the bungalow, and nothing to cover up with. Hugging herself, Maisey tried to go back to sleep. She wasn’t ready to wake up, was exhausted in a bone-deep way. With dawn breaking, she hoped it would get warm quickly and she’d be able to nap for a couple of hours before she had to face the day.
“Maisey? Is that you?”
Startled to realize she had company, she came more fully awake and squinted at the man standing over her. He looked like a giant amorphous shape surrounded by a halo of bright sunlight. At first she had no idea who he was. But after she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she saw that it was only Rafe, wearing jogging clothes and a pack-like contraption strapped to his back that made him appear larger than he was.
Maisey’s face grew instantly hot. She was wearing several layers of clothes—almost everything in her suitcase. She must look like some kind of homeless person. Which, in fact, she was...
Scrambling to her feet despite the restriction caused by all those layers, she started brushing away the sand clinging to her cheek, hair and clothes. “Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to alarm you. I didn’t expect anyone to be on the beach this early.”
“I’m just glad you’re breathing,” he said. “I had a terrible feeling I’d discovered your...never mind.”
The glare of the sun made it hard to interpret Rafe’s expression. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but his tone conveyed surprise.
Once she shaded her eyes, she was surprised herself. The contraption on his back was a child carrier, and there was a child in it—a girl, who had to be five or six, with blond pigtails and sunglasses.
Why was he carrying such a large child? And on a run? Most people found it challenging to exercise without the extra weight. But...he looked stronger than a lot of men. Maybe that was how he’d gotten to be so muscular. Maybe he liked to push himself.
“Why are you down here?” he asked. He didn’t add, “Looking like that,” but she heard it in his voice. “Did you lose your key? If you couldn’t get in, you should’ve come to my place. I would’ve helped you.”
She cleared her throat. “No, I’ve got the key.”
He gestured at the indentation her body had made in the sand. “Then what’s this about?”
Maisey was relieved when the child spoke, because it saved her from having to come up with an answer. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her mother was so private, and Rafe worked for her mother...
“Who is it, Daddy?”
Daddy? Yesterday, when she first saw Rafe, Maisey hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might have children. Had he ever been married?
“It’s our new neighbor, sweetheart,” Rafe replied.
“Our neighbor?” the child echoed. “We have a neighbor?”
“We do now. Her name is Maisey Lazarow.”
Wrinkling her nose, the girl rolled her head back; she seemed to be looking at the sky instead of at Maisey. “She doesn’t sound like Mrs. Lazarow.”
“Because she’s not,” he said. “This is her daughter.”
“Silly!” she said with a laugh. “She doesn’t have a daughter.”
He adjusted the pack. “Maisey moved away a while ago. And now she’s back.”
Curiosity lit her face as she sobered. “How old is she?”
The way they were talking—as if Maisey wasn’t right in front of them—seemed odd. If those sunglasses made it difficult for the child to see, why didn’t she remove them?
“Thirty-four,” Maisey volunteered, but that was an unexpected question. Generally, to a child of that age, an adult was an adult. But this girl acted as though she had no frame of reference. “How old are you?” Maisey asked.
“Five and three-quarters.”
Almost six. Maisey had guessed correctly; this wasn’t a toddler. “Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Laney,” she announced, and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck in an impulsive and exuberant hug.
Maisey shifted her eyes to Rafe.
“I would’ve told you,” he said. “You didn’t let me get that far.”
“I see. Well, you certainly don’t owe me any explanations. Congratulations on having such a beautiful daughter.” That wasn’t an empty compliment. Although the girl acted a little...different from other kids her age, she was exceptionally pretty. Maisey could see a lot of her father in her. Her hair was lighter than Rafe’s, but she had his smile and bone structure.
It wasn’t until Maisey noticed the collapsible cane dangling from the child carrier that she realized the sunglasses weren’t the reason Laney couldn’t see. The girl was blind, which explained why Rafe was carrying her, even on a run. He probably couldn’t leave her alone when he worked out.
“Are you exercising, too?” Laney asked.
Out of habit, Maisey shook her head. Then, feeling silly since the child wouldn’t be able to tell she’d responded, she followed up with, “No. I—I was sleeping.”
“On the beach?” She giggled. “Daddy, I want to sleep on the beach!”
Rafe’s gaze swept over Maisey. “I’m pretty sure it’s too cold this time of year.”
“It wouldn’t be if you had some blankets,” Maisey said.
Laney swung her legs to show her enthusiasm for the idea. “We have blankets. We could take them from our beds!”
Feeling awkward and self-conscious, Maisey rubbed her arms, even though the adrenaline that had shot through her at being startled awake had done a great deal to ward off the chill. “How long will you be visiting, Laney?”
Laney rolled her head back again. “Visiting who?”
“How long will you be staying with your—”
Rafe broke in. “She lives with me.”
“Oh.” Maisey combed her fingers through her hair and encountered several tangles that told her she must look as unkempt as she feared. “Then you should have plenty of chances to camp on the beach.”
“With our blankets,” Laney added.
“You wouldn’t want to go without them unless you had to,” Maisey said.
“Why did you have to?” Rafe asked.
“I ran into a little...trouble last night, but I’ll get everything worked out today.” She started to back away, toward the road that led around to their units. “See you later. Have fun, Laney.”
Raphael’s daughter waved. “I like your voice. You seem nice. She’s a nice lady, isn’t she, Daddy? Do you like our new neighbor?”
Maisey spoke before he could respond. “There’s no question that you’re nice,” she said, then turned and ran.
6 (#ulink_fe5f314d-296f-5493-a6d0-88337c3c5e5b)
MAISEY TRIED CALLING Keith as soon as she got back to the house. He didn’t answer, so she left another voice mail and sent another text.
Seriously? You won’t answer my calls? Are you okay? I’m not mad. I swear it. I just want to know that you’re safe.
She stared at her phone for several seconds. Then she called Coldiron House.
Clarissa answered again.
“Is Keith there?”
This time she didn’t need to identify herself. Clarissa recognized her voice. “No, Miss Lazarow. We haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“Really, you can call me Maisey,” she said.
“Yes, Miss... Maisey.”
“There you go. No formality required when dealing with me.” She left all that to her mother, who loved her lofty station in life. “Keith hasn’t called?”
“Not that I know of. Maybe Mrs. Lazarow has heard from him. Would you like to speak to her?”
Maisey considered that, but decided against it. If Keith and Josephine had argued, Josephine would be the last person to know where he was. And Maisey didn’t want to hear their mother blame this latest setback on her. Josephine would undoubtedly claim it happened because she’d walked out on their tea yesterday and “upset” everyone. “No, thanks,” she said, and disconnected.
After that, she wandered from empty room to empty room, trying to figure out if she’d be smarter to grab her suitcase and ask Rafe to drive her to the ferry so she could return to New York. Maybe yesterday when Keith had suggested she go back, he’d done it because he knew he wouldn’t be capable of maintaining the relationship she expected them to have...
In light of his recent actions, that made sense. But it was too late to bail. She’d seen it that way on the ferry, and she saw it that way now. Coming to Fairham had been a last-ditch effort to save herself as well as Keith.
Besides, it wasn’t possible—financially or emotionally—to undo everything she’d done to get here. And there were so many memories in Manhattan, memories she’d rather forget. She didn’t have work to go back to, anyway, not if she couldn’t write or illustrate. Even if she was capable of creating more children’s books, she could do that here, as her mother had pointed out. There was nothing to bring her back to New York. The life she’d lived there felt as if it had burned to the ground. Only ashes remained.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to stop her frenzied pacing and thought of her father. His kindness. His smile. His comfort. She liked it on this side of Fairham, where she felt close to him. She should stay here.
But what about her mother and brother? Could she handle living so close to them? They were both difficult, for different reasons. Jack used to say her brother was worse than her mother. At least her mother was strong, determined, driven. In Maisey’s mind, though, “strong, determined and driven” couldn’t make up for being narcissistic and insufferable.
That was what she normally thought, anyway. Right now “weak” and “unable to cope” frustrated and disappointed her just as much.
Opening her eyes, she kicked her suitcase. She must’ve been remembering Keith in a far more favorable light when she’d raced back to Fairham.
But that didn’t mean she could bear to see him hurt...
With a sigh, she checked her phone again. Still nothing. Which meant she couldn’t save her brother if he was in trouble again; she had no way to track him down. With the friends he found online, playing interactive video games and gambling, he could be anywhere. No one had guessed he’d wind up in New Orleans the last time. She could only pray he wouldn’t do anything like what he’d tried there...
She could also get herself situated, so she wouldn’t end up sleeping on the beach again. Last night, after she’d realized she was stranded, she’d gone over to Unit 9 to see what, exactly, was there and found only large furniture, all of it stacked up and too heavy to move alone. That included the mattresses propped up on their sides, squeezed in behind all the furniture.
But she had more time, energy and sunlight today. She could pick out exactly what she wanted and then see if Rafe would help her move it, even though she’d told him she didn’t need his assistance.
She planned to use the internet on her cell phone to look up the number for Smitty’s in Keys Crossing. The store sold groceries, fishing paraphernalia and sundries, and the goods they carried were eclectic enough that she’d probably find bedding, towels and washcloths. Maybe she could order what she needed and pay one of Smitty’s baggers to deliver it—if they still had baggers and those baggers had vehicles. Not everyone on the island drove cars. Most preferred scooters.
One way or the other, there were solutions. She just had to be determined and creative.
But...first things first. After sleeping on the beach, she desperately wanted a shower.
She was standing under the spray, reveling in the simple luxury of hot water, when she heard someone banging on the front door. Hoping it was her brother, she rinsed the soap from her hair and jumped out.
She had to use one of her skirts to dry off. She didn’t have any towels, which gave her a new appreciation for terry cloth. Her skin was still damp, making it a challenge to pull on a pair of cutoffs and the tank top she normally reserved for yoga class. But if Keith had come back, she didn’t want to miss him.
“Let it be him,” she mumbled, and hurried to the door.
It wasn’t Keith; it was Rafe. He kept turning up—but then that was to be expected. They were living next door to each other and were currently the only occupants of Smuggler’s Cove. There was bound to be some interaction. Besides, she couldn’t consider his appearance a bad thing. Since she’d have to humble herself and ask for a hand with the furniture, this would give her the perfect opportunity. She just wished he’d come fifteen or twenty minutes later. She’d scrambled out of the shower so fast she hadn’t put on a bra or combed her hair, which was sopping wet.
Cracking open the door, she stood in the gap. “Hello.”
He was freshly showered, too—but further along in the process. Although his hair was still wet, it was combed, he was fully dressed in a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt and work boots and, once again, he smelled as good as he looked.
“You never returned my key last night,” he said.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m sorry!” Because she’d been afraid he’d catch her on his porch and come out, she’d decided to wait until he was more likely to be asleep. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him for fear he’d ask how the move went, didn’t want him to know that Keith had left her in such an impossible situation. Then she’d become so absorbed in her own misery she’d forgotten. And, as luck would have it, he’d caught her sleeping on the beach, anyway.
“Here, I’ll get it.” She opened the door wider and started to turn, then hesitated. If she was planning to ask for his help, she had nothing to gain by putting it off. “Actually, if you’re on your way there now, would you mind if I tagged along?”
He scowled as he looked past her, into the house. “You don’t have any furniture yet?”
“No, not yet.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to get it by yourself...” She could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“Maybe, if you have the time, you and I could lift the heavier stuff into your truck?”
A bemused expression appeared on his face. “Didn’t I offer to do that yesterday?”
“Yes. And it was very nice of you.”
“Even though my offer was rejected, along with my invitation to dinner.”
She ignored the dinner part. “Something came up for Keith that...unexpectedly took him away.”
He scratched his head. “Must’ve been pretty important, since he left you stranded.”
