The Inn at Angel Island (11 page)

“She does a lot of good for the town of Cape Light,” Claire replied, defending the mayor. “People will vote for her again if she runs next fall.”

“For the tenth time, you mean?” Daniel teased her. “There are no term limits in Cape Light,” he explained to Liza. “Emily Warwick will run until . . . well, until she’s running in a walker, I guess.”

“Oh, Daniel. That doesn’t make any sense,” Claire said, shaking her head. Liza, though, glanced at him and smiled.

“Well, back to work.” He rose and took a long last sip from his mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Liza also took a last sip, secretly appraising his appearance as he walked to the door. Today he wore a blue sweater under a dark red down vest, his long, lean legs covered in worn jeans. For a guy out power washing, he looked good. Very good.

And he was clever and charming. But he had to be in a relationship, she reminded herself. And she was just divorced and not ready to date anyone, especially some guy living on a remote island. So what was the point of even thinking about him?

“Do you want to continue working on the closets down here today?” Claire’s question broke into Liza’s thoughts.

“I guess so. There’s so much more to sort out. We might as well stay focused.”

“Little by little, we’ll get through it,” Claire promised. “Your aunt was a big saver, but she knew how to store her treasures in heaven, too—‘where moth and rust do not destroy.’ ”

Liza nodded. The bit of scripture was vaguely familiar—and surprisingly comforting. Claire was right. Her aunt and uncle were not really materialistic people. They had always lived with strong faith and spiritual values. While Liza struggled to sort out the collection of possessions that chronicled their earthly lives, she had to remember that they both lived on in spirit, in some better place.

Looking at it from that angle, the rest of the closets didn’t seem nearly as overwhelming.

“All right, let’s get to it then,” Liza said. Then she remembered that she hadn’t checked in with her office yet. She had gotten distracted talking to Daniel. Now it was nearly ten, and no one had heard from her. That wasn’t going to look good.

“I just have to check messages from my office first,” she said to Claire.

She pulled out the BlackBerry, dismayed to see she hadn’t even turned it on. What was happening to her? Three days in this place and she was losing her edge! She pressed the Power button, relieved to see there was Internet service this morning.

Liza was hardly aware of the housekeeper leaving the room as she quickly scrolled down her new e-mails. A message from her boss immediately caught her eye. Subject: Shoe Paradise Logos.

Liza clicked it open, feeling an anxious knot in the pit of her stomach. But the e-mail wouldn’t open. The screen froze. The Internet connection was gone.

“Again!” she muttered. “Does this thing
ever
work out here?” She hit the Phone button and speed-dialed the office, Eve’s direct line.

Why did I ever come out here in the first place? It was just not the right time. I should have just let this place fall down . . .

The phone rang five times before Eve finally picked up. Liza greeted her with what she hoped was a cheery tone.

“Hi, Liza,” Eve said smoothly. “How’s it going?”

“Just fine. The house is already on the market. The real estate agent thinks we can sell it very quickly. I might be back even sooner than I thought,” she added, knowing that wasn’t entirely true.

“Sounds like you got a lot done out there,” Eve commended her. “I’m not surprised. You’re always so efficient.”

“Not always, but thanks.” Liza hesitated, knowing she had to ask about the logo. “So you got the sketches the other day? You should have seen me trying to find a fax machine.” Liza turned her frantic search into an amusing anecdote. “The new technology has definitely not caught on out here. My real estate agent finally took pity on me and sent the package from her office.”

“You poor thing. What an ordeal.” Eve laughed and Liza felt a sliver of optimism. Maybe this wasn’t going to be bad news after all?

Liza took a breath. “So, what did you think?”

“About the logos? They were fine. A little rough, but I could see where you were going.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t have time to find a graphics place to do a mock-up.”

“Of course not,” Eve cut in. “You could hardly find a fax machine. Don’t worry about it. We were all able to visualize.”

We? Who did that include exactly, Liza wondered?

Liza guessed there had been a meeting about the logos—a big meeting probably—and wondered if Charlie Reiger had been included. Had the client been there, too?

“So you had a meeting about it?” Liza tried for a casual tone but heard an anxious note slip in.

Why didn’t they let her know? She could have been included by telephone. That wasn’t any big deal.

“It was sort of impromptu,” Eve explained. “Shoe Paradise wanted to see what we would do before they signed on. You know how it is.”

“How did it go? Did they like any of my ideas?”

“They did like one or two. I liked them, too,” Eve said. “But some other approaches seemed more in tune with the market they want to pull in. One concept in particular caught their eye, and we’ve sold them on a campaign built around it.”

An entire campaign from one sketchy little logo? It must have been brilliant, Liza thought. And not her brilliance either.

“Well, that’s great. That’s terrific,” she said, trying her best to sound like a team player.

“We’re all very pleased. We lost a few big clients this year, and nobody’s spending like they used to,” Eve reminded her. “Charlie is going to work with the shoe people,” she added smoothly. “His ideas brought them over, and he had good rapport with their CEO.”

Good rapport? Liza nearly dropped her phone. Charlie’s “rapport” usually consisted of discussing the Red Sox’s pitching staff. And she could have bet money that his ideas were borrowed from her. The little twerp was forever searching her old ad campaigns for his “new concepts.” She had taught Charlie Reiger everything he knew. Of course, it was easy for him to win the account while she was out of town. That was like saying you set a record for swimming, but Michael Phelps wasn’t in the pool.

“Liza, are you still there?” Eve asked.

“I’m here. Sorry. I got distracted a moment. So much going on.” The power-washing machine roared right near the window, blowing water against the building at gale force. “Sounds like it all turned out for the best,” Liza said, letting her boss off the hook. “I’m sure Charlie will do a good job.”

“I’m sure he will. And you certainly don’t need the headaches of a new account right now,” Eve added.

Perhaps she meant it kindly, out of concern. But Liza heard another message: You’re distracted and overwhelmed, letting your personal life interfere with your work and not doing a first-rate job around here anymore.

“You just do what you have to do out there,” Eve continued. “Don’t worry about us. This is a vacation break, too, right?”

“Not really,” Liza corrected her. “I’m basically working long distance for a few days. That’s all. I’m totally available to the office.”

“All right. I’ll remember that. You take care. See you soon.”

They said good-bye, and Liza ended the call. Her heart sank.

Charlie had won this round. Was he angling to force her out entirely? The economy was awful, and Eve had said that the company had taken a hit. Liza had never thought her job was in jeopardy, but maybe she had been wrong.

Or maybe it hadn’t been in jeopardy until she came out here.

She was fair game now, unable to defend herself. Who knew what would happen by the time she got back?

Eve had not mentioned the promotion, Liza noticed. Earlier, Eve had promised her that no decision would be made before she returned, and Liza trusted her. But she still worried. She had left a few days ago concerned about a promotion. Now she was wondering if she was losing her job.

Liza sighed and heaved herself up from the kitchen table. She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, hoping a cool glass of water would calm her down.

Back to battling the closets. At least that was a front she might win. There might even be some upside to all this anger if she could channel it productively. Maybe the closet question could calm her?

“Save, discard, give away,” she chanted under her breath. “Save . . . discard . . . strangle Charlie Reiger . . .”

“What did you say?”

Liza spun around to find Daniel standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her. “Save, discard . . . strangle somebody?”

She laughed self-consciously. “I was just . . . upset about . . . something. A phone call from my office,” she confessed.

“That’s the problem right there.” He pointed to the BlackBerry still in her hand. “Don’t you know those things are bad for your health? They definitely raise your blood pressure—and put you in a bad mood.”

“Well, it did today,” she admitted.

“A problem at work?”

“You might say that. A problematic person,” she clarified, not knowing how much she wanted to confide.

“There usually is at least one of those in any office,” he said sympathetically. “What do you do for a living, Liza? I don’t think you mentioned it.”

“I’m in advertising. An account executive.”

His eyebrows rose a notch. “Nice. Very impressive.”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. He didn’t seem the type of guy who was impressed by fancy titles or big salaries. Was she trying to impress him? She wasn’t sure.

How had he even snuck up on her like that? She heard the machine still running outside. But obviously, his helper was handling it alone right now. Daniel must have walked in the front door without her noticing.

“Do you need something?” Liza stared up at him, trying to act more businesslike.

“I just came in to tell you that a window on the third floor is open. Someone needs to go up and close it.”

“All right. I’ll take care of it,” she said, hoping he would take the hint and leave her be. She just wanted to have a good sulk. Now she was getting all distracted by him again.

He looked about to say something to her, something more serious. The BlackBerry buzzed. Liza tried to check the number but Daniel was faster, snatching it out of her hand.

“Why don’t you just shut this thing off for a while? You’ll feel a lot better, honestly.”

Liza tried to grab it from him. But he held it just out of her reach. Then he laughed at her. “I know it will be hard at first, but you can do it. I know you can.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Would you please give that back to me? It might be important—”

“I doubt it. Probably just another annoying person.”

Liza couldn’t argue with that. He was almost certainly right. But it was also annoying to be teased like this. “Fine,” she said, pretending to give up. She started to walk away, then quickly whirled around and reached for the phone.

But he was quicker. “Whoa . . . nice move. You nearly got me.”

“This is so . . . silly. And childish. Just give it back to me, Daniel.”

He laughed at her again, and this time she started laughing, too, despite her efforts to look stern. This game was maddening! So why was she enjoying it?

The BlackBerry buzzed again and she pounced, grabbing his wrist so that she could finally see who was calling.

“It’s Peter! Give it, give it . . . I have to speak to him. Right now!”

Daniel finally heeded her excited tone, and his hold on the phone went slack. Liza snatched it back.

“Who’s Peter? Your boss?” He seemed genuinely interested in knowing—or was that just her imagination?

Liza quickly hit the Call Back button. “Peter’s my older brother.”

“I’ll give you some privacy, then. I’ll just run upstairs and close that window if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I don’t mind at all.” Liza met his dark glance a moment, then watched him leave the kitchen.

Daniel was likely right. These instant-communication devices were probably bad for your health and your mood. Luckily, there was a handsome home repairman around to put it all in perspective. The perfect antidote.

Peter’s phone rang several times. Liza hoped she hadn’t missed him. Finally, she heard him pick up and say hello.

“Hey, what’s up?” Liza greeted him.

Please don’t tell me you’re not coming. I’ ll just scream.

“We’re at Logan. We caught a flight late last night with a connection in Atlanta and just got in. We’re waiting for the baggage to come down—”

“You’re at Logan? That’s terrific!” Liza nearly hopped up and down, she was so relieved.

“The car rental is set. We should be there in about two hours.”

“Can’t wait to see you. Drive carefully, okay? . . . You remember the way?”

“Couldn’t forget it. See you soon.” Her brother sounded tired but eager to get out to the island.

Liza felt something deep inside her relax. Thank goodness he was on the way. There were still so many questions to be resolved, so many memories to be untangled. If she really had to say good-bye to the inn, at least she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter Five

E
NERGIZED by the news of Peter’s arrival, Liza whipped through the rest of the foyer closet, then moved on to the dining room.

Claire covered the long dining-room table with a soft old blanket, and they began sorting out china, piles of dinner plates, soup bowls, teacups, and saucers—placing them in three categories: save, discard, and give away. Liza had just finished one shelf of many when she heard a car pull up the gravel drive.

“I think they’re here,” she said to Claire.

Liza set down a flower-rimmed bowl and ran to a window that faced the drive. A small red hatchback pulled up next to her own car. Her brother, Peter, sat in the driver’s seat, and an absolutely huge teenage boy sat beside him.