Meant to Be (14 page)

Lola slid a dark finger down the page as she read the names. She stopped when she reached Floyd’s name. “His wife is buried here, so I know Floyd isn’t going anywhere. Especially if Helga stays put, too.”

“What does Helga have to do with Floyd?”

“He’s been courting her for a year now, though Helga pretends he’s just being friendly.” Beth had yet to meet these people, but couldn’t resist a potential love story. “I thought Floyd was devoted to his dead wife? You just said so yourself.”

“He loved that woman like a sailor loves the sea, but old Floyd isn’t the kind to stop living. Mabel’s been gone five years now. Even us old folks get lonely and need someone to spend our days with.” With a wink, Lola added, “And our nights.”

Beth sat back in surprise. “I don’t know Floyd or Helga, but I’d rather not think about how they do or do not spend their nights. And not to step too far into your business, but that wink says Floyd isn’t the only one looking for a companion.”

She couldn’t be sure, but the black woman appeared to be blushing. “The man for me is miles from this island. More’s the pity.”

“Where is he?” Beth asked. “Is he back in New Orleans?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear this old lady’s sad tale,” she replied, squeezing Beth’s knee. The fragile grip reminded her of Granny and how she missed their talks on the old porch swing.

“Now I have to hear it.” The notepad dropped to the floor as Beth gave Lola her full attention. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you left a lot of broken hearts behind you.”

Lola shook her head slowly and her eyes gentled. “There were men I might have left a little bruised, but when it comes to Marcus, I broke my own heart.”

“Oh,” Beth said, instantly regretting pushing the question. “I shouldn’t have pried into your personal life like that.”

“Don’t be silly. It was a long time ago, and I really am too old to be pining like a schoolgirl.” Settling back into her chair, Lola crossed her legs, bouncing one foot as if tapping to the beat of a song only she could hear. “Marcus Javier Granville was a fine man, but I was young and wild and thought I was doing the right thing. You see, my best friend, Dorothy, had been in love with Marcus for years. Well, we were all a little in love with Marcus, but Dorothy believed him to be the very air she breathed.”

Beth remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt the story.

“I’d have done anything for Dorothy. We grew up together, and she was there for me when times were hard. More like a sister than a friend.” Lola looked as if she were floating back in time. Wherever she’d gone, the memory didn’t appear to be a happy one.

Beth squeezed her hand again. “You don’t have to tell me the rest.” Though not knowing what happened to Marcus Granville would drive her nuts, she’d rather Lola return to her sweet, peaceful self than see the pain now lingering in her eyes.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Lola said, her smile returning. “Dorothy was like a sister, so when Marcus declared his love for me, I did a terrible thing.”

“What did you do?” Beth asked, holding her breath.

“I lied. I told him I didn’t love him and never would. Now, mind you, Marcus and Dorothy were never an item. He knew she had a thing for him and he never abused her attentions, but he never pretended to return them either.” The smile dimmed again. “But I knew following my heart would break Dorothy’s. I couldn’t do that to her, so I lied, and shortly after left New Orleans and Marcus behind.”

The finality of Lola’s words, how hard it must have been to walk away, tightened something in Beth’s chest. “You said he isn’t that far away. Does that mean you know where Marcus is now?”

“I do.” The happy Lola returned, a sparkle in her eye making her look younger than her sixty years. “Can you believe he found me on the Internet?”

“No,” Beth said. “Where is he? Are you going to see him? Is he married now? Tell me he isn’t married.”

Lola laughed. “He’s living on the Eastern Shore, and no, he isn’t married. His wife, who was not Dorothy, by the way, died a few years ago. He’s mentioned coming for a visit, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Beth nearly tipped forward on her chair. “Of all the places he could have ended up, he’s a few hours away from you. That’s a sign.”

“I haven’t seen the man in almost forty years. A quick glimpse in the mirror is my sign.” The woman rose from her chair to fiddle with flyers on the counter. “Best to leave the past in the past, I say.”

Beth wanted to argue but instead thought about what she would do in the same situation. The pain of the choice shone clearly on Lola’s face. She’d loved the man once upon a time.

“Have you told him?” Beth asked, keeping her voice soft.

Lola kept her back turned. “Told him what?”

Beth rose and joined Lola at the counter. “Told him that you lied. Does he know that you loved him?”

No answer came, nor did Lola meet her eyes. Beth worried she might have crossed a line, but then the woman turned and laid a hand against her cheek.

“Some choices can’t be undone. Some wounds can’t be healed. Telling him now won’t change anything.” Narrowing her eyes, she added, “Let my story be a lesson for you. Real love comes along once in a lifetime. When you find it, don’t ever let it get away.”

Lucas appeared in Beth’s mind, but the face shifted to one with blue eyes and a rarely seen dimple. Beth blinked the image away. “I won’t. I promise.”

C
onvincing Floyd Lewinski to join the anti-Wheeler movement took little effort, as Joe expected, but his insistence they involve Helga Stepanovich came out of nowhere. After reassuring him Helga was on the list to contact, Floyd said he’d take care of bringing Helga up to speed, then proceeded to tell Joe no less than three stories about the “good old days.” All of which he’d heard before.

Unlike most men Joe knew, Floyd was a talker. He’d been on the island since before the Dempseys arrived, twenty years before, and considered himself an expert on the good old days. No one had the heart to remind Floyd that little had changed on the island in fifty years. Joe took advantage of a newly arrived customer to make his getaway. Minutes later, he swung by the art store to pick up Beth, who, other than to say Lola was on board, remained silent on the short drive to the house. He wondered what she and Lola could have talked about to put such a distracted look on her face.

More than once she glanced his way wearing a thoughtful but confused expression he couldn’t interpret. Something
deeper than thwarting a real estate deal was on her mind, but Joe knew better than to ask a woman what she was thinking.

The restaurant was quiet enough on Monday nights for Tom and Patty to both take the night off, which meant a family dinner at the house. Beth was as quiet during the meal as she’d been in the Jeep. His stepmother shot him an accusatory look. Joe shrugged in response. He had nothing to do with this mood swing. Nothing he could think of anyway.

Tom drew Beth into the conversation when he brought up the plot against Wheeler, but she fell silent again after Joe had to pass along bad news. Running two charters a day for the next three days was good for business, but left Beth on her own to deal with the locals and move the plan along.

She should have been happy to have him out of her hair, considering how well they got along, but just when he thought he had her figured out, Beth changed the rules and kept him guessing. Patty volunteered to go with her, but Beth still looked disappointed, casting strange looks his way through dessert. How was he supposed to enjoy his pie with her making him feel guilty like that?

The guilt stuck with him as he boarded the boat the next morning.

“You look like someone stole your pecker,” Sid said as they prepared for the first group of tourists to arrive. “Did right-hand Rosie tell you no again?”

“Where do you get this shit?” Joe asked, ignoring the question.

Now that Beth had given him a more feminine view of Sid, he was having trouble thinking of her as one of the
guys. Spending a little time with Beth might be good for Sid. He’d get answers, and Sid could get in touch with the girl hidden under all the grease and profanity. “Forget the question. I don’t want to know.”

Double-checking the fishing rods for adequate line, he waded into the topic. “I need a favor.”

Sid looked up from securing a hook, eyebrow raised. “What makes you think I like you enough to do you any favors?”

“Not for me so much as for Lucas.” So he was using Sid’s feelings for his little brother against her. Ferreting out Beth’s secrets really was for Lucas’s benefit.

His mechanic gave him her full attention. “If this involves making little lawyer chick disappear, sign me up.” Her girly side really was buried deep. Like two hundred feet below the surface.

“I asked Beth about her background. Something simple like where she grew up. She dodged the question and changed the subject.” Joe glanced over to Sid to make sure she was paying attention. She’d gone back to tying the hook, but he could tell she was listening. “I want to know what she’s not telling and if she’s also not telling Lucas.”

Sid finished with the hook and reeled in the excess line. “Where do I come in to this?”

Joe shrugged. “Girls talk, right?”

“I’m talking to you, ain’t I? What the hell are you getting at?”

He should have known being subtle would never work with Sid. “Take her out. Give her enough alcohol to loosen her up and start asking questions.”

The rod in her hand hit the floor. “You’re full of shit if you think I’m having a girls’ night out with that tight-assed Goody Two-shoes. First off,” she said, counting on her fingers, “I don’t do girls’ nights out, and you know it. Second, what would we talk about? The latest fashions? Maybe we could paint each other’s toenails pink.”

Joe started to laugh at the image of Sid with painted toenails, but the look on her face said danger, so he shifted to a cough. “I’m not suggesting you have a sleepover. Get some drinks. Ask her some questions. That’s all.” When Sid didn’t look convinced, he went in for the kill. “Don’t you think Lucas deserves to know who he’s marrying before he’s stuck till death do them part?”

She wanted to argue. Joe could see the war waging as she switched from grinding her teeth to chewing her bottom lip. As far as he knew, Sid didn’t have any female friends. If convincing her to spend a little time with Beth would get him the answers he wanted and buff out some of her rough edges, all the better.

“If I do this, you’re paying,” Sid said, crossing her arms over her “Wench My Ass” T-shirt.

“Like what, washing your truck or something?”

“I mean you’re buying the drinks. You want me to do this without interference, that means avoiding Dempsey’s.” Shooting him an “I dare you” look, she added, “I’ll need cash up front.”

He should have known she’d find an angle. “How much?”

Sid hesitated, clearly pondering how much she could take him for. “A hundred bucks.”

Joe shook his head. “I said get her tipsy, not give her alcohol poisoning.”

“Fine,” she said with a huff. “Fifty bucks, but that’s my final offer.”

“You got it.” Joe took the hand she extended, but threw in a caveat of his own. “But you have to convince her to hang out with you. If she thinks I’ve set this up, she’ll be suspicious.”

Sid pulled her hand away. “She’s never going to believe I want to hang out with her. It’s not like I’ve been friendly so far.”

She had a point. What would make Beth spend an evening with Sid and not leave her wondering what he was up to? The answer was obvious. He’d already considered the idea of Beth helping Sid find her girly side.

“I’ll tell her you’re interested in a guy and need her help to look like a girl.”

“Hey!” Sid yelled, poking him in the chest. “Are you saying I don’t look like a girl?”

Joe raised a brow and looked her up and down. The dark-green carpenter pants had to be two sizes too big, and the work boots were covered in grease. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her hair in anything but a ponytail. As he brought his eyes back to hers, Joe put on his best unimpressed face.

Sid huffed. “You’re a dick.”

“You going to do this or not? Fifty bucks and one day of your life to make sure Lucas isn’t fucked for the rest of his.”

“If I’m going along with this stupid looking-like-a-girl story, the price goes up to seventy-five.” Joe opened his
mouth to argue but she cut him off. “She’s going to want to buy me clothes. It’s not like I have girly shit in my closet.”

Of that he was sure. “Seventy-five. But you don’t get the money until Beth says she’ll go. I’m not stupid enough to give it to you before.”

Sid fluttered her eyelashes, which looked about as natural as a trout on water skis. “Why, Joe Dempsey, don’t you trust me?” Her fake Southern accent sounded like that
Gone with the Wind
chick on steroids.

“Beth doesn’t have a shot in hell of turning you into a girl.”

Voices sounded from up the pier as their first group of the day headed toward the boat. Sid turned her back on the tourists, giving Joe a determined look. “Now you’ve just pissed me off. I’ll play your little game and find out what big-city girl is hiding. But an extra twenty-five bucks says I’ll be the hottest thing in O’Hagan’s Pub come Saturday night.” Before Joe could apologize, Sid snatched the stack of fishing rods off the floor of the boat. “Now go greet your customers before I shove your nuts down your throat.”