Every Little Kiss (17 page)

“He’s not Ben, Em. He’s nothing like Ben. That much is obvious.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “You’ve never even met Seth. How would you know that?”

“Because you thought Ben was perfect from the
get-go, and that scared the hell out of
me
. He was always too good to be true. The fact that you recognize this one’s issues is promising.”

“I just wasn’t . . . enough . . . for Ben.” The words came out sounding stiff, but talking about her ex had that effect. She was over him, but not the implications of their breakup.

“Oh, bull,” Sam snapped. “No one is ever going to be enough for him. And it’ll never be his fault—just ask him. You weren’t the problem.”

Emma simply shrugged. As far as she was concerned, the jury was still out on that one. “That’s old news anyway. I’m just not much good at getting close to people. I don’t like the risk. It’s not usually worth it.”

“But sometimes it is,” Sam said gently. “I took some convincing, but Jake managed it.”

“I’m not sure which of us needs more convincing, me or Seth,” Emma said. “And making people feel comfortable with their relationships with me isn’t really my area. Unless they’re paying me, which is different.” She sighed and looked away. “Well, that sounded bad. With my luck, that’ll be the next chapter in my imaginary saga. ‘Emma Henry, Small-Town Hooker.’”

“Nah, that’s Kimmie Talbot, over on Nightshade. I think that might actually be true, though.” Sam leaned in. “You going to be okay? I really think it’ll be okay.”

“I have no idea,” Emma said, beginning to gather up her things and place them neatly in her little two-person picnic basket. She looked up at her sister with a small wistful smile. “But talking about it helps. At least you understand all my messed-up Henry baggage.”

“It’s our gift and our curse,” Sam replied, picking up her sketch pad and getting to her feet. She wore a long, shimmering shirt that looked like fine silver mesh over
tight black leggings and a pair of strappy heels, and her pale blond hair shone nearly as bright as her shirt. Emma smiled at the sight of her beautiful little sister, finally comfortable in her own skin and living a life that fit her like a glove. She’d found her place in the world.

Emma felt as though she’d been close to finding that same sort of contentment for years now, having made her peace with so much of the past. But pieces were missing. The thought that she might be on the verge of finding one was tantalizing . . . but being wrong would cost her. She just didn’t know how much.

The thought that Seth might somehow be in a similar position was cold comfort.

“I want to meet this guy,” Sam said as they walked together from the sheltering shade of the Witch Tree into Oak Shadow Park, which sat lush and green at the heart of the square. “Are you going to bring him to the wedding? Since I’m making you be maid of honor and not letting you try to run everything, no matter how much you whine.”

“I haven’t whined. And I hadn’t even thought about it,” Emma replied, though the thought made her happy, in a nerve-racking sort of way. “Probably. If he can.”

“And the rehearsal dinner. You should bring him to that, too.”

“Mmm.”

“Oh!” Sam spun, her eyes bright. “I know! Let’s go out this weekend, the four of us. Jake and I can size him up, and then maybe I’ll know how to help!”

Emma considered it as they left the wrought-iron fence at the edge of the park and crossed to the shops lining the square. Hers was just a little up from where they stood, which meant she had very little time to make a decision. She’d rather analyze it to death, but there
wasn’t time. There never seemed to be anymore, at least in her personal life. Things just kept
happening
before she could take the time to figure them out.

“Saturday’s bad for me,” she said. “As usual. And I think he works days this weekend. Let me see if I can pin him down for next weekend, okay?”

Sam gave her an incredibly feline smile. “You do that.”

Emma gave her a playful swat as they stopped in front of Occasions by Emma. Brynn waved at them from the desk inside. Sam returned the wave, then refocused on her sister.

“Call me and let me know, okay? It’ll be fun. And don’t worry so much. Some people just take a little more time. Don’t be afraid if he needs some work. I mean, we all do, right?”

“Most of you do, yes,” Emma replied, and darted inside just in time for Sam’s foot to miss her rear end. Sam stuck her tongue out and flounced off as Emma smiled sweetly and waved good-bye, feeling immeasurably better just for having been able to share. It had taken her a long time, but she was getting better at it. Not that she could have gotten a whole lot worse, but . . . baby steps.

“Emma! Good! Mrs. Charles has decided to go to war with Larkin over the cupcakes for the shower, and both of them have called to shout at me.”

“Larkin shouted? She never shouts.”

Brynn looked at her blandly. “This is Rowena Charles, Em. She could make Mother Teresa shout. Anyway, Ms. Party Coordinator, Mrs. Charles wants you to coordinate Larkin into agreeing to change everything she’s baking for the shower in two days—at no extra cost, of course—and Larkin wants you to coordinate Mrs. Charles into a hellish vortex from which she’ll never return. Thoughts? I tried, but they don’t want me.”

“Be grateful,” Emma said. But she headed for her office with a smile, because no matter how bad things got, she knew she’d find a way to make things work. That was just what she did.

And for the first time, she had to consider that because of it, a future with someone might not be out of the question. She’d spent so much time arranging wonderful moments for other people.

All she needed was the nerve to give making her own life something wonderful one more try.

“Y
ou’re holding out on me.”

“I am not.” Seth took a sip of coffee and stretched out one of his legs while he lounged on the couch, exactly the kind of start to a Saturday he liked. He’d been glad to hear his sister’s voice this morning—after his initial annoyance at the phone waking him up—but he didn’t think he was quite awake enough for the interrogation he was currently undergoing. One of the things about being a twin that was both a blessing and a curse was the deep connection they shared. And though he liked to pretend Kira didn’t have a love life, she always seemed to know when something was going on with his.

“Are, too. You think you’re so smooth. It’s kind of sad, really.”

Seth snorted. “The only sad thing is that you’ve never appreciated my awesomeness.”

She laughed, a sound he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing. Not after he’d made her cry so often. He’d been determined that the last time would be just that—the last time. So far, so good.

“It’s because I got more of the awesomeness,” she said. “I just spend most of my time feeling superior. Sorry—it’s just genetics. You got a raw deal, being male and all.”

“Ha.” He took another swig of coffee. “So how are things in sunny St. Augustine?”

“Believe it or not . . . sunny. And full of tourists. And you’re trying to change the subject. So who’s the girl?”

“I didn’t say anything about a girl,” Seth replied, hoping she couldn’t hear the smirk that he couldn’t quite help. No such luck, though.

“I hear you smiling, you jerk.” Kira heaved a long-suffering sigh. “This is what I get. I shared a womb with you, I played army men with you, I let you hit on my friends, and you hold out on me. Fine. I see how it is.”

He rolled his eyes. She could probably hear that, too. When he was younger, he’d been convinced his twin was psychic, but it turned out that she was just extremely perceptive. It worked well with her natural gift for snooping. He’d tried to push her into police work because of it, but she seemed just as happy being a journalist.

“So much drama,” he said.

“As if I would pretend to be deeply wounded just to get information out of you,” she replied, and because her mood had lifted his own, he relented just a little.

“There might be a
woman
. Not a girl. Someone I’m starting to see. Happy now?”

The squeal was deafening. He jerked the phone away from his ear and winced. “Seriously?”

“That’s great! Who is she? What’s her name? What does she do? Is she nice?”

“Of course she’s nice. Jeez, Kira. It’s not like I’ve been living under a rock. You had to do the screech?”

“I had to do the screech,” she replied. “It was necessary. Quit sounding so grumpy about it, Seth. I’m just happy you’re starting to get out again. You know . . . to reconnect.”

His smile was wistful. “Not like back at home, you mean.”

“Well . . .”

“It’s okay, Kira. I know what a pain in the ass I was before I left.” The burying himself in work even though he hated what it was doing to him, avoiding his family because he didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for, well, anything. It hadn’t been bad at first, right after he’d gotten out of the service. But by the time Uncle Steve had thrown him a lifeline, he’d felt as though he’d fallen into a pit with sides made entirely of slippery, shifting mud.

“You weren’t a pain in the ass,” she said firmly. “You were just . . . lost. I only wish you’d mentioned you were looking for jobs elsewhere before you blew town.”

“I knew I needed to go. You all would have tried to get me to stay. It was for the best.”

“Hmm. Leaving here, maybe. Not saying good-bye until you were halfway to Massachusetts, not so much. I know you’ve got some noble idea you were sparing us, Seth, but I think it was just easier for
you
.”

He winced. “Kira—”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You did what you needed to, and believe me, I’m just glad it seems to be working out.” Her voice brightened as she quickly shifted the subject away from his hasty departure. Seth appreciated it, but his guilt lingered. He knew he should have said good-bye. He’d just been afraid that if he had, he would lose his nerve, and staying would have been the worst thing he could have done. He’d been losing himself.

It wasn’t an easy thing to explain. Words weren’t his favorite medium of expression. But here and there, he’d tried. It had helped immensely, though he knew Kira hadn’t quite gotten all the way through forgiving him yet. Soon, he hoped. But not quite.

“So I’m hoping to get up there for a visit this summer,” she said. “If that’s okay. I know you wanted some settling-in time, but frankly, it’s been six months and I have no patience.”

Seth laughed. Yeah, she’d just about forgiven him. “Anytime,” he said, and was glad to find that he really meant it, that the thought of seeing her filled him with excitement instead of dread. “Just let me know when you’re coming so I can have more than three cans of soda and, like, half a package of cheese in the fridge.”

“Really?
Yes!
Because I kind of already put in for time off next month, so . . . you were going to find me on your doorstep regardless. I miss you.” All the humor vanished from her voice, leaving only the simple, sweet truth.

“I miss you, too,” he replied, meaning it just as much. They’d been a unit since before they’d been born. They’d banged each other up from time to time over the years, but that bond had never been broken.

“Aw. So now I don’t know what I’m more excited to see. This amazing no-name town that you and Uncle Steve are so in love with, or the girl—sorry,
woman
—who finally got you to break your dating moratorium. I’ll make her love me. Just you wait.”

Seth groaned. “And that’s terrifying. Thanks, Kira.”

“Hey, it’s my job to bring joy into your life. I’m the good twin, remember?”

“Is that why you were always the one in trouble when we were teenagers?” he asked.

“I was unappreciated in my own land,” she said. “And you were just quieter about your inherent badness. Plus I had better ideas.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he snorted. He thought a moment, tested out the idea in his head, and decided it wasn’t just time to invite his sister to come see what he
was making of his life up here. He’d waited, maybe too long . . . but he’d wanted to be sure this place was the right one first. He was a little surprised that his parents hadn’t used Steve and Ginny as an excuse to come up already, but some part of him knew that Steve would have told them to wait.

He was only beginning to understand just how worried they’d all been.

“I need to get Mom and Dad up here, too,” Seth said, and was treated to another screech. “Jesus, Kira!”

“Sorry. I just . . .” It stunned him to hear his devil-may-care sister on the verge of tears. “You really are better. I mean, you sound like your old self again. Is it the place, or the job, or . . . What’s made the difference? What was missing here?”

Seth sighed softly, hating that she was still determined that he’d left because his family was somehow lacking. “You know it wasn’t you, Kira. You and Mom and Dad are the only things I miss about being down there.” He tried for a laugh. “Guess I never really got the north out of my system.”

“But it’s cold. And no palm trees.”

“It’s beautiful. Even when it’s cold,” he assured her.

“It’s so
far
, though,” Kira said. And it was, but . . .

“Some places just call to a person, I guess. I used to dream about places like this.” He remembered the phone call from his uncle, right at the point when he’d basically decided to head for a job out in Washington State. He’d figured his father had put him up to it, but his normally quiet uncle had been surprisingly passionate in his argument for Seth’s coming up to Harvest Cove instead. Ginny was a local, they’d been there for years, and he was friendly with the chief. A place could be made for him almost immediately with little fuss, and besides . . .
Steve wanted him there. Because he understood. And sometimes, just having someone around who got it was enough.

That had been the deciding factor, with the small size and purported beauty of the Cove coming in a close second. Seth had been positive that the descriptions of the town had been overblown, but no. It was exactly what Steve had promised. Maybe Kira would understand when she came up.

Not if, but when. The thought made him smile. The invitation had been long overdue.

“Well, I’m definitely curious. You make it sound so quaint. And
romantic
.” She drew out the word in a ridiculous voice, then chuckled. “Don’t do anything stupid before I get there, okay?”

“Hey, you know I wouldn’t do anything stupid without you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kira replied. “All right, I have to go try to get coherent answers out of a politician now. May your day be better than mine.”

“Sounds like it will be,” Seth said. “I’ve got the day off.”

“Loser.”

“Love you, too, Sis.”

He heard that funny catch in her voice again when she replied, “Oh, you know I love you. No matter how big a buttface you are. Later.”

She hung up, leaving Seth with the bittersweet knowledge that he was still making his sister cry. It was simply for happier reasons.

He’d just stood up to get himself another cup of coffee when his phone rang. He figured it was Kira again, calling back with either some forgotten scrap of information or one more insult. He was used to both. But a quick look at the number made him glad he hadn’t picked up and
tossed out a “What do you want
now
, butt nugget?” without thinking.

“Emma,” he said. “What’s up?”

He had a brief instant of worry that she’d finally decided to confront him about waking up alone on the couch Tuesday morning. He hadn’t explained about the intermittent insomnia yet because . . . well, because. But it was eating at him a little, enough that he was holding off asking her to come over. What if he couldn’t sleep again? What if she woke up alone again and asked questions? It was bound to come up eventually.

Not today, though. When Emma spoke, it surprised him to hear the tension running through her voice. It was like listening to the ominous hum of a live wire.

“I need help. I’ve got an engagement party tonight that’s turning into a slow-motion disaster. Both of my part-timers are down with the stomach flu their kids brought home, Brynn stepped off the curb and fractured her foot on her way into work, and I don’t have enough hands to get the gallery looking the way it needs to by seven. I know this is probably the last thing you want to do tonight, but—”

“When do you need me there?” he asked. She paused for a moment, as though genuinely surprised he’d already agreed. It made him wonder, not for the first time, what kind of guys she must have dated before.

“Five,” she finally said. “I’ll meet you at the gallery at five. I’ve roped Sam and Zoe in, too. I think they’re both scared to work with me, but I’m kind of desperate. Do I sound desperate? Because I’m really pretty desperate.” Her laugh was slightly maniacal.

“I’ll be there right at five,” he assured her. “It’ll be fine. You’ve probably dealt with worse than this.”

He heard her blow out a long breath. “Not in a while.
And I’ve never had all my help taken out in one fell swoop. I told Brynn to stay away, but I’m worried she’s going to hobble in and try to help anyway.”

Seth remembered her and thought Emma was probably right. “If she shows, we’ll shoo her out. Or at least tie her to a chair. Do I need to dress up for this?”

“Maybe. Probably. Yes.”

“Done. Don’t panic. I’ll see you at five.”

“God. Thank you. I owe you,” she said, and he put a stop to that notion before it could take root.

“You don’t owe me anything, Em,” he said, deliberately using her nickname. “I’m coming because I want to. I was hoping we could get together tonight anyway. Okay?”

Her voice was tired, relieved, surprised . . . but pleased. “Okay.”

They hung up a few moments later, and Seth stretched, reaching one hand up toward the ceiling. It seemed like today was going to bring him all sorts of signs that he was making a life here. Getting dressed up for polite company—not to mention Emma’s sister—was just one more.

Hoping he still had a pair of decent khaki pants, he headed for the kitchen and one more cup of coffee to start his day.

*   *   *

By the time the tables were set up and artfully arranged, the buffet table was loaded with steaming hors d’oeuvres and smelling like heaven, and the entire gallery was draped in gauze and bathed in candlelight, Emma didn’t care what anyone said.

She didn’t just owe her emergency crew drinks; she owed them a seven-course gourmet meal. And if any of them tried to complain, she would have to stab them. In the most profusely grateful way possible, of course. After
which they would have to go to dinner anyway, because she said so.

As jazz played softly through the speakers and the partygoers mingled in groups, Emma circulated a tray of spanakopita and chatted up the guests. Faith, the caterer, was shorthanded thanks to the stomach plague as well, and this was an easy way to pick up some of the slack. The setup was always more stressful for Emma than when the party was in full swing, by which point she no longer felt like climbing onto the ceiling and staying there wailing until the Party God arrived to magically fix everything.

Luckily, she hadn’t needed divine intervention. And once she’d slipped into her simple black 1950s-style cocktail dress, one of her favorites, she’d felt fully in control.

When she walked back to the buffet table with the empty tray, sharing a relieved smile with Faith, Sam was waiting for her.

“Hey,” Emma said, guiding her sister into an unoccupied corner to talk for a moment while scanning the room for anything that might need doing. Faith’s two servers seemed to be covering the crowd just fine for the moment, and Zoe had vanished, probably pulled into a conversation somewhere or other. Seth was holding a tray of drinks and laughing with a couple of guys he worked with who’d come as guests. Emma let her eyes linger on him, unable to help herself. It wasn’t just that the man wore khakis and a button-down shirt better than anyone had a right to—and she’d nearly had to pick her jaw up off the floor when he’d walked in. He’d been invaluable as they’d set up, moving quickly, doing exactly as she asked, and somehow spurring everyone else to work in the same fashion.