The Goodbye Bride (10 page)

She looked up at the beautiful old mansion. An enormous veranda, complete with swings, warmed the stately brownstone exterior. The inn had advertised its need of a desk clerk in the help-wanted section of the
Harbor Tides
, and Lucy figured she had a good chance at the job. The owner, Margaret LeFebvre, a bird-watching enthusiast, had often visited the Natural History Center when Lucy worked there, and they'd hit it off.

Lucy had woken this morning feeling decisive and optimistic for the first time since she konked her head. She called the company she'd worked for in Portland and quit, explaining her situation. It seemed like a large company, as the person in human resources didn't even seem to recognize her name. She canceled her lease and made plans to store her belongings—the apartment
had come furnished, so she didn't have much. She'd collect them later. Lastly, she had her mail forwarded.

She was staying in Summer Harbor, with or without her memory. She had yet to mention that fact to Zac. She'd left while he was busy, saying she was stepping out for a bit. But the sooner she got a job the better. If the Primrose Inn didn't work out, there was also a position open at the Unique Boutique.

She could do this. She felt more like her old self in her favorite gray slacks and a lightweight sweater that matched her blue eyes. She'd found a pair of gray Michael Kors wedges that added four inches to her height.

A bell jingled as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. The house carried the fragrant scent of bacon backed with a sweet cinnamon smell. The aroma made her stomach growl.

There were voices in the back room, and she was about to follow them when Margaret came through the doorway, a warm smile on her face. The woman had always reminded her of Diane Keaton, with her smart fashion sense and elegant figure.

“Mrs. LeFebvre, how are you?”

The woman's smile diminished by a few watts. “Lucy. You're back in town.”

Lucy smiled wider, trying not to be discouraged by Mrs. LeFebvre's lack of enthusiasm. “I am. I arrived Saturday. Your primroses are so lovely! You have a very inviting home. I can see why your inn is so popular.”

Mrs. LeFebvre removed her readers, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck. “Thank you.”

“Have you done much bird-watching lately?”

“Not much. We've been quite busy with tourists since the weather turned warm. Are you looking for a place to stay?”

“Oh! No, I'm not. Actually I came across your ad in the paper for a desk clerk. I was hoping the spot might still be available.”

The woman gave a thin smile. “I see. So you're here to stay.”

Her flat tone made Lucy's heart feel as if it were shrinking. “Yes, ma'am.”

“I didn't realize you and the Callahan boy were back together.”

Lucy's smile wobbled. “We're—well, we're not, exactly. But I'm moving back to town. I missed Summer Harbor.” Not that she remembered missing it, but she must have. “I have a lot of experience working with the public, as you know, and I worked as a—”

“I'm sorry, dear,” Mrs. LeFebvre said, her gaze direct. “I'm afraid you're not quite right for the position.”

Lucy squirmed as a heavy feeling settled in her stomach. “Oh. Well, I see. I—I do hope you'll keep me in mind if something else opens up.” She lifted the edges of her mouth in the semblance of a smile.

“Thank you for stopping by.”

Lucy turned and left, navigating the porch steps on wobbly legs. The woman was a lifelong friend of the Callahans, and obviously she was bitter about Lucy leaving Zac.

She thought of all those calls he'd had to make, canceling their wedding, of the humiliation he'd suffered. Shame stole over her, making her cheeks fill with heat. What had made her do such an awful thing?

She turned onto the sidewalk, making a valiant effort to shrug off the depressing thoughts. There was nothing she could do about the past. At the corner she turned, heading toward the Unique Boutique. She'd splurged on a baby-blue sundress there last summer. She'd been wearing it the night Zac proposed.
Two hours later Lucy sat on the beach, heedless of her nice pants. She removed her wedges and dug her toes into the coarse sand. The coolness felt good against her aching arches.

Out in the harbor, lobster boats bobbed in the water. The wind tugged at her hair, and she drew in a deep breath, letting the salty tang of the air fill her lungs. The water kissed the shore in quiet ripples, a sound that failed to soothe her troubled spirit. Overhead a seagull gave a lonesome cry.

She'd put in an appearance at the boutique and had spoken with the owner. The thirtysomething woman had taken one look at Lucy, put her twitchy nose up in the air, and said in a clipped tone that the position had already been filled.

So had the opening at the bookstore, though the help-wanted sign still hung in the window. She'd stopped in other shops, but no one else was hiring.

She'd finally gotten desperate enough to check Frumpy Joe's diner. She'd spent many hours at the café with Zac, and the owner was one of the friendliest women she'd ever met. Lucy had worked as a server during college. Maybe she'd dropped a few trays, but she was efficient, and she had a great memory. Well. Normally.

Turned out she needn't have fretted about dropping trays at Frumpy Joe's. Charlotte Dupree took her number, but her tone gave Lucy little hope of hearing from her.

Lucy's brain may not have been operating at full capacity, but she'd have to be dead to miss the cold shoulders turning her way. The enormity of what she'd done seven months ago was sinking in, and it wasn't feeling too good.

She couldn't bring herself to go back to the Roadhouse. Zac
was as eager to get rid of her as everyone else in town. Probably more so. The thought was a kick in the gut.

Hearing footfalls behind her, she turned and spotted a young woman jogging on the boardwalk. She felt a moment's envy at the peaceful expression on her face. That was what she needed right now. There was nothing like a nice, long run to wash away a person's troubles.

Wanting to think about something else—anything else—she rooted through her purse and pulled out a bundle of envelopes. Between her and Zac they'd managed to find some mail and papers lying around her apartment. Maybe they'd give her a clue about what she'd been doing in Portland and provide the information she needed to resettle.

She pulled an envelope from the stack and saw it was from a bank. After her disastrous afternoon, she hoped she'd spent the last several months putting away some serious money. She pushed a finger under the flap and tore it open. She'd need to contact the bank and get another ATM card. She only had twenty-seven dollars in her wallet.

As she unfolded the paper, a gust of wind took the envelope, and she reached out for it. But as she did so, the wind swiped the papers from her hand, and they went scuttling across the beach.

Lucy jumped up and followed their harried path up the beach and across the boardwalk, grabbing at empty air. When she reached the boardwalk, she snatched one of the pages from the air while someone's tennis shoe stomped on the other.

“Oh! Thank you!” She looked up to see the woman jogger. Her chestnut hair was clasped in a perky ponytail.

The woman chuckled through her ragged breath as she
handed Lucy the paper. “I'm not sure who's getting the best workout this afternoon.”

Lucy couldn't help but smile at the woman's friendly expression. “I was just thinking I needed to go for a jog.” She looked down at her outfit. “This wasn't how I planned it.”

“Are you visiting? Your accent places you well south of here.”

“Georgia, actually. But I'm moving here—if I can find a job, that is. I didn't have much luck this afternoon.”

“I don't know of anything, but I'll keep my ears open.”

“I'd be much appreciative. I should let you get on with your jog.”

“I was just cooling down. I'm new at this. A mile feels like a cross-country trek.”

“Sounds about like me. I do like the way it makes me feel though.”

“Afterward.” They spoke at the same time, then laughed.

“You should meet me out here sometime,” the woman said. “I could use an accountability partner. I usually jog in the morning, but I got a late start today.”

“I'd like that. Maybe it'll go faster with company.”

“We can only hope.” The woman put her hand on her waist, still breathing hard. “The wind's ferocious on the harbor today. Did it blow your shoes away too?”

Lucy laughed as she wiggled her bare toes. “No, but I'd better get back to them before it does.”

The other woman held out a hand. “My name's Eden, by the way.”

“Lucy,” she said as they shook hands.

The woman's smile froze. Recognition dawned in her eyes, stealing the sparkle. She shuffled back a step.

Lucy bristled. Really? Someone she'd never even met? “I guess my reputation precedes me.”

Eden's mouth worked, and her hands fluttered around her body. “I—I'm Beau's fiancée.”

Lucy gave a tight smile. “Of course you are. Well, no worries, Eden. I won't hold you to your offer. Go ahead and walk away. Everyone else has.” She turned toward the beach, her back as stiff as a flagpole.

“Wait,” Eden called after her.

Lucy turned, her lips pressed together.

“Is it true—you have amnesia?”

The wind whipped her hair around her face. “I don't remember the last seven months.”

Eden's brown eyes squeezed. “Not at all? That's . . . that must be hard.”

Still being in love with the man whose heart you didn't remember breaking? Not exactly a walk in the park. But she didn't know this woman. Didn't owe her an explanation.

“Look.” Eden stepped off the boardwalk and onto the sand. “I don't see any reason why we can't be friends. Or jogging buddies. I mean, you and Zac are history, right?”

Lucy's chest tightened. She offered a weak smile. “It appears that way.”

Eden's lips parted as realization flared in her eyes. “Oh, you—you don't remember leaving, so . . .”

“Yeah, I'm pretty much operating on the emotions I had when we were still engaged.”

Eden winced. “Ouch. Do they expect your memory to come back?”

Lucy lifted a shoulder. “God only knows.”

Eden studied her for a full ten seconds while the wind fluttered her jogging pants. She seemed to be weighing something out.

A seagull cried out, its lonely call echoing across the harbor.

Lucy dug her toes in the sand, fixing to turn. “Well, I should let you—”

“How about tomorrow?” Eden said. “Eight o'clock?”

Was this woman really giving her a chance? Beau's fiancée? “I'm not really supposed to jog until my symptoms are gone.”

“Oh, that's right. Your head injury. We could walk . . .?”

She was pretty sure a walk wouldn't be much of a challenge for Eden. But she needed a friend too badly to turn her down. “All right. If you're sure.”

Eden smiled brightly. “My legs thank you.” She backed up a few steps. “So right here at eight a.m.?”

“See you then.” Lucy watched her hop onto the boardwalk and head toward the cars parallel parked along the curb. She turned and headed back to her bag and shoes. Maybe things were finally looking up.

Chapter 12

Z
ac locked the door and shut off the restaurant lights. It had been a long day. He'd filled in for Marci since she'd called in sick again. He was glad to stay busy, but he was getting behind on paperwork. Three advertising proofs sat neglected on his desk, and he still had payroll to do.

He headed down the hall toward his office. Lucy was sitting behind the computer when he entered. He'd told her to help herself, and apparently she had. She was in a pink tank top, and beneath the desk he could see a pair of pajama pants that were scattered with tiny cows. Her hair was in a floppy ponytail, and her face looked fresh-scrubbed. He admitted, if only to himself, that she was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“About the same. Have you seen the articles?”

“What articles?”

She flipped the laptop around, and he saw an article from a Portland newspaper. He stared at the photo, which had been taken in front of her apartment, of Lucy ducking into his shoulder.

“The article refers to my aunt as ‘the late Audrey Lovett.' ”

His eyes found hers.

“She died . . . and I don't even remember.”

His heart softened as her eyes glossed over with sadness and something else. Guilt? “I'm sorry. I should've thought to tell you.” He'd heard it on the news a couple months after Lucy had left. He couldn't even pass on his condolences at the time, since he had no idea where she was.

“I wasn't awful close to her, as you know, but she was my guardian for years. My only relative. How can I not even remember her dying?”

“It's not your fault. You have a brain injury.”

“I know you're right, but—” She seemed to shake the thought away. “Anyway, the article spells out what's happened to me. Now all of Portland knows.”

He propped his palms on the desk and scanned the article.

Missing Woman with Amnesia Turns Up

A missing young woman who was diagnosed with amnesia turned up last night at her Portland apartment.

Lucy Lovett, great-niece of the late-sixties starlet Audrey Lovett, failed to show up at a private wedding ceremony where she was to wed local businessman Brad Martin. After being unable to reach his fiancée, Martin filed a missing person report the next day.

Police discovered Lovett had been treated at the hospital Saturday evening. They have since learned that Lovett fell and struck her head at Dee Dee's Diner after her disappearance Saturday. Martin received a phone call from Lovett, during
which she said she had been diagnosed with amnesia and had subsequently left town.