The Way Home (26 page)

Avery felt a knot in her stomach. She couldn't hide her surprise and didn't even try. “Paul. What are you doing here?”

Her ex-fiancé's dazzling smile grew wider, his blue eyes shining. He stepped past Gena and sailed through the doorway. “You look terrific, Avery. The sea air really agrees with you. And this place is beautiful. It's awesome. Honestly.”

Avery quickly wiped her hands on a towel and pushed the chopping block aside. Paul was here. Could that possibly be?

She had been working hard all day and suspected she looked terrible, but suddenly realized she didn't really care.

He walked over to the worktable and smiled down at her. “I know I should have called first, but I just stopped by on a whim.

“I was on my way back to the city from Bar Harbor. I wasn't even sure I would find this place. It's barely on the map,” he joked. When Avery didn't answer he added, “Your sister told me you set up shop out here.”

“Right. She told me she ran into you. Too bad about the Tulip. I was sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely.

“Yeah, we had some good times at the Tulip, didn't we? But what can you do? That's the way this business is, up one minute, down the next. How are you doing out here? It's a little off the beaten track, wouldn't you say?”

His tone was half teasing, half mocking. Or maybe she was just extra-sensitive to his opinion. She always had been . . . for no good reason, she realized now. Paul seemed different to her, diminished somehow. He even looked . . . shorter. Could that be because Mike was so tall? She had always thought so well of Paul, maybe just because he thought so well of himself? He was, as always, perfectly dressed, in a black T-shirt and khaki shorts and expensive sunglasses that gave him the “celeb on vacation” look.

“We're doing very well,” she told him. “It took a few weeks, but when you have good food, people find you.”

“You're a fabulous cook, no question about that.”

“Thanks,” she said stiffly. “So, really, why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted to say hi, make sure you're all right. I've been thinking about you,” he added. “Are you doing okay, Avery? Really?”

Avery blinked, unable to believe he had asked that. He certainly hadn't been so concerned about her welfare when he dumped her.

“I'm better than ever, Paul,” she said honestly. “What did you think happened to me after we broke up? Did you think I was hiding away in my apartment—alone with a bunch of cats?”

He laughed nervously. “I never thought that. You were always more of a dog person.” His thin joke fell flat. “I can see you haven't been pining away over me. I didn't mean that. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for way things turned out between us. The way you left the business . . . When I heard you started this place . . . well, I just wondered if you were managing all right on your own. It's hard to do it all, Avery. The staff, the books, the permits, the insurance. I think I owe it to you to offer some help, some support. That's all.”

Help, from him? Was he serious?
He was the last person on earth she would allow to help her. An image of Mike flashed into her mind. She had let Mike help her and didn't regret that for a second—maybe because when Mike offered help it was genuine; he was never trying to manipulate her. Paul and Mike were night and day, and Avery knew now that she preferred the daylight.

“You've always hated bookkeeping,” Paul reminded her. “I remember that much,” he added in a teasing tone.

Avery suddenly understood Paul was trying to weasel his way into her life again—and into her new business.

Handsome, smooth-talking Paul, who was used to being able to charm anyone, was down on his luck and out of work. Despite the Peregrine's rocky start, she was the one who was doing better now, and he was hoping she would throw him a lifeline—though, of course, he was so arrogant that he tried to sound as if
he
were the one doing
her
a favor.

Avery felt a little sorry for Paul. But that was all she felt. The hurt and even the anger were gone. She had finally gotten over him and was more than ready to turn the page. And that, she suspected, had a lot to do with Mike Rossi.

“I'm sorry, Paul, but I don't need help. The Peregrine is doing just fine.” She shrugged. “I think it all worked out for the best.”

He looked surprised at her reply, but finally sighed and swept his dark brown hair back from his forehead. She smiled at the familiar gesture, remembering how crazy she had once been about him. Now she didn't feel even a twinge of attraction.

“Well, you can't blame a guy for trying. I must have been crazy when I let you go. But I do wish you the best. I hope we can meet again someday with no hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” she assured him.

“Thanks, Avery. I'm not sure I deserve that,” he admitted. “May I kiss you good-bye?”

Surprised by his request, Avery simply nodded. She expected a quick kiss on the cheek, but he leaned over and rested his hands on her shoulders then gently kissed her lips. Avery closed her eyes, and a bittersweet feeling rushed through her as she remembered the good times and the hopes she once had for their relationship. But she knew now that he was not the one for her, and she was finally able to say good-bye.

They had not quite parted when the kitchen doors swung open. Avery quickly turned to see who was walking in, though she still felt Paul holding her.

She expected Gena or Teresa, returning to the kitchen. Which would have been bad enough.

But it was Mike, his eyes wide with shock, his face turning nearly as white as his cooking jacket.

She jumped away from her ex-fiancé, sure that Mike had the totally wrong idea about what was going on. But she had no idea of what to do or say to correct that.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” Mike quickly started to back away.

She took a few steps toward him, practically grabbing his jacket to stop him from leaving.

“Wait, don't go . . . This is my friend, Paul. Let me introduce you . . .” Friend? The term was stretching it a bit, but Avery didn't know what else to call him. “Paul just stopped by to say hello,” Avery continued in a rush. “He's on his way back to Boston.” She turned to Paul. “Mike owns the Lazy Tuna down the street. He's got an incredible following. The place is packed every night.”

“Well, that's an accomplishment. I had a little place with Avery in the city. We were packed every night, too. Then business fell off and I had to close.” Paul walked around the table and stood by Avery. For some strange reason, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “We were just talking about that place, right, Avery?”

Avery forced a smile then quickly stepped away. “Yeah, we were. Well, you were,” she added.

Mike's mouth twisted to one side. “It's a tough business. Survival of the fittest . . . So you guys worked together? Is that the . . . connection?”

“Paul and I were partners at the Tulip Café. I told you about that,” Avery reminded him.

“Oh, right.” Mike nodded, and looked down a moment. She could tell he was silently fact-checking. Yes, she had told him about her partnership in a café somewhere in Boston that didn't work out. And she had mentioned a diamond engagement ring she sold to raise money for the Peregrine. But she had not told him about Paul. Not really.

He seemed to be adding things up now. And she had a feeling the equation wasn't coming out in her favor.

“Paul was just leaving,” she said quickly. “Weren't you, Paul?”

But Mike spoke before Paul could. “That's all right. I'll catch you later, Avery.” Before she could reply, Mike turned and walked out the door. This time, Avery didn't chase him. There seemed no point to it.

“Well, he seemed a little uptight,” Paul said as soon as Mike was out of earshot. “I noticed that fish shack down the street. Is that the place you were talking up? Looks like a fish and chips.”

“It's actually very good. People love it.”

It occurred to Avery that she had never tasted Mike's food, but somehow, she couldn't let Paul criticize Mike's restaurant.

“Well, maybe I'll stop there for some take-out. Time to get back on the road, I guess.” He cast one more wistful glance her way, as if she might have second thoughts about letting him go this easily. Paul wasn't used to rejection.

“I have to get back to my prep work. It's almost time to reopen,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Have a safe drive back to the city.”

He stared at her a moment and nodded. “Thanks. Good luck again. I hope this all works out for you.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you, too, Paul,” she said sincerely. “I'm sure some opportunities will come your way soon.”

He smiled and left the kitchen, walking out the way he'd come in.

Avery watched him a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. Paul Miller was the last person she expected to see today.
If only Mike hadn't walked in. Avery worried that he thought Paul was some long-lost love and now they were back together. She would have to find a moment to explain things to him, which would not be easy.

Life was so complicated. That's why she loved cooking. You had a very clear recipe and a list of ingredients, and if you followed the instructions, nine times of ten, everything turned out fine.

She didn't even have the time to figure this out now.

Don't think, just cook,
she coached herself, remembering another bit of Mike's useful advice.

* * *

C
LAIRE,
Liza, and Jamie spent the rest of the day searching the entire inn for the watch, without success. Claire realized that hours had slipped by. She had never gone out to the beach. She hadn't even stepped outside, except in the morning, when everyone was arguing on the porch.

There were only six guests left at the inn. Claire began cooking dinner around five while Liza set the dining room table for the guests and the table in the kitchen for herself, Claire, and Jamie. Jamie was still searching, going through the old barn where they kept the bicycles.

“I was so sure the watch would turn up somewhere today,” Claire said, thinking out loud. “I keep wondering if there's someplace we still haven't looked.”

“I was thinking about that, too,” Liza said wearily. “And wondering, well . . . if Jamie is really telling us the truth.”

Claire turned quickly to look at her. Her heart fell. “Do you doubt his story now, too, Liza?”

Liza took a breath. “I'm not saying I'm sure he's guilty. But I have to admit, I wonder. I'm just trying to be honest with you, Claire. I want to believe he's innocent, but I think we need to be . . . prepared.”

Prepared? Prepared for what?
Claire didn't like the sound of that word. She turned back to the stove, frantically stirring a pot of chowder. Liza had a right to her opinion.
But she doesn't know Jamie the way I do,
Claire consoled herself.
I still believe he's entirely blameless and with the help of heaven, everyone will soon see that.

Liza's cell phone rang and she checked the number. “It's the police station,” she said quietly.

Claire felt frozen where she stood and said a silent prayer.
God, please don't let Jamie get in trouble over this. Please have mercy on this boy. Please protect him.

“Yes, Tucker, I understand. Thanks for letting me know. Yes, I will tell him,” she added. She ended the call and glanced at Claire. “The Rapps filed a report, and it will be passed to the district attorney. Tucker says the situation is drawing attention because the Rapps say the watch is so valuable, worth about five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand? My goodness, I didn't realize it was that valuable,” Claire said.

“Neither did I. Tucker says if someone was found guilty of stealing it, since the value is over two hundred and fifty dollars, it's grand larceny and the penalty is up to five years in prison.”

Claire took in a sharp breath. “I don't even want to think about that. There's no evidence.”

“Not that we heard this morning,” Liza agreed.

Jamie walked into the kitchen then. Claire hadn't even heard steps in the hallway. “Do you need me in here yet?”

“Not quite,” Claire said. “The food won't be ready for about twenty minutes.”

“I'm going out to start the recycling,” he said to Liza. “I'll be back by then.”

One of his many jobs was taking care of the trash that needed to be recycled—newspapers, cardboard boxes, bottles, and cans. The recycled trash was kept out in the barn in different barrels, and Jamie had to get everything ready on Sunday night for the Monday morning collection.

After he'd gone out the back door, Liza glanced at Claire. “Do you think he heard us?” she asked.

“I'm not sure. But when he comes back we need to tell him what Tucker said. He needs to know what's going on.”

“Yes, I will. I didn't mean to keep it from him. He just breezed by so quickly.”

Claire nodded. She knew Liza had not hid the news intentionally. It would be better to talk about this over dinner anyway, when they could sit down together and have a reasonable discussion. Though it would be hard to talk about terms like larceny and prison in any reasonable way.

Claire's stomach felt so jumpy as she finished cooking, she had absolutely no appetite. Liza had gone into her office but now returned. “Should I call the guests down to dinner?” she asked.

“I think so. It's all ready. You had better get Jamie in here first. He needs to wash up before he serves and maybe change his clothes.”

“All right.” Liza turned toward the back door, but Jamie was walking in. He still wore the thick work gloves used for packing the trash and gardening. He was smiling very widely as he strode into the room, waving something in the air.