Tidewater Inn (14 page)

“Love the floors,” she said. She grabbed a suitcase from the shelf and began packing it.

Vanessa didn't look up. “Thanks.” She went to the attached bathroom, then returned moments later with an electric toothbrush and toiletries. She dumped them on top of the clothes in the suitcase. With her hands on her hips, she stared at Libby. “What do you expect from us anyway? That we're all going to be a big happy family now that you've arrived? Forget it! You're not my big sister. You're not anything to me. I don't know you and I don't want to know you.”

Libby dropped the top she'd been folding.
Be generous with grace
. “I want to know my family,” she said. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“The family has to want to know you too. You can't just force your way in here and expect us to fall on your neck.”

Libby rubbed her forehead. “I'm sorry if I've been presumptuous, Vanessa. That wasn't my intention. If I back off, would you agree to trying to be friends?” She held out her hand.

Vanessa stared at Libby's extended fingers and shook her head. “I'm not promising anything. I think the only reason you're here is for the money. There's been ample time to get to know us before now if that's what you really wanted.”

Libby dropped her hand to her side and struggled to keep the tears at bay. “I'll see you at the hotel.” She turned and plunged through the door and down the stairs to the fresh air outside, free of her sister's vitriol.

She'd tried to honor her father's request, but she'd failed.

T
HIRTEEN

E
very inch of the island was damp and covered with flotsam when Nicole finally descended from the roof. Her face and arms were sunburned from her hours atop the shack, and her tummy rumbled and twisted in its desire for food. She'd eaten half of a peanut butter sandwich, but that was all she'd allowed herself. What if no one came back for days? She would conserve her food and water as much as possible.

Libby had always preached that she should have foresight, but Nicole wasn't sure any kind of wisdom would get her out of this predicament. She kicked a palm frond out of her way and resisted the urge to cry. Tears wouldn't get her rescued. Glancing at the fallen palm fronds, she decided to gather them up. Maybe she could make an outdoor shelter from the sun. She wouldn't be cooped up in the waterlogged shack that smelled of mold and fish.

Once her arms were full of fronds, she deposited them under the palm tree and went back for more. After she'd gathered every frond from the island, she sat down to rest under the tree. The wet ground dampened her shorts almost immediately. Glancing at the water jug, she resisted the urge to drink.

She thought she heard a motor in the distance. Leaping to her feet, she ran to the edge of the water, but at first she saw nothing. Then in the trough of a wave, she saw a boat carrying one person. Shouting and waving, she jumped up and down. The boat was heading for the island like before, and as it neared, she realized it was the same craft as yesterday. The same young man dropped anchor offshore.

She had to convince him to take her off this cursed island. Standing with her hands at her sides, she waited for him to splash ashore. He carried more supplies, so the pain in her stomach would soon be eased. And fruit! She spied apples and oranges in his arms. She salivated at the thought of their sweet taste.

“You're okay,” he said. “I was worried the storm surge would carry you off.”

“It would have if I hadn't climbed on top of the building.” She couldn't take her eyes off the apples. Pink Lady, her favorite variety. “Can I have an apple?”

“Sure.” He handed her one.

She bit into it, relishing the sweet yet tart flavor that flooded her mouth. It was all she could do not to moan at the taste. And while she was eating, she didn't have to talk to her jailer. Though she
needed
to talk to him, needed to convince him to let her go.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she smiled at him. “Were the seas rough?”

“Not bad. I caught some mullets. You want some?”

“I would love some. But how do we light a fire?”

“I brought a lighter.”

She watched him slosh back to the boat and return with a box. Inside she spotted fish, a lighter, a knife, and other food items. If she could get the filleting knife, she'd force him to take her to the mainland.

“We'll need firewood. I should have thought of that,” he said.

“I have palm fronds. Will that work?”

“No.” He glanced back toward the boat. “I can cook it on board, though. There's a grill in the galley.” He squatted and grabbed the knife, then began to clean the fish.

Nicole had never wanted anything as much as she wanted that knife. She wanted to leap on him and wrest it away, but he was muscular and she wouldn't have a chance. Even the lighter would do her no good without firewood to burn. She eyed the palm tree. Unless she could manage to set it on fire where it stood.

He finished cleaning the fish, then put the knife in his back pocket and picked up the fillets. “I'll be right back.” As he walked toward the boat, the knife slipped to the sand.

She swooped down on the weapon. The handle felt substantial and deadly in her palm. Turning her back to the boat, she tried a few threatening swoops with it in her hand. Could she even bring herself to hurt him? He seemed to believe she was a danger to some imaginary brother. There was no malice in his treatment of her.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was intent on his task, and she caught a whiff of the fish beginning to cook. How could she get this to go down her way? After he returned to the beach, she could back out to the boat with the knife in front of her. He might be afraid to charge her for fear of getting cut. She would have to turn her attention away to get in the boat. Still, she should manage to get aboard before he could wade through the waves. But what if he boarded in spite of her efforts?

All she could do was try. Swallowing hard, she put the knife behind her back and turned when he approached with the cooked fish. “Smells good,” she called.

“I'm not the cook my dad was,” he said. “I hope it's done. And it's hot and filling.”

“Was? Your dad is dead?”

His lips tightened and he nodded. “He died in a plane crash. He and my mom.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks.” He set the tray of fish on a rock.

“Where do you live? In Hope Beach?”

He nodded. “With my uncle. He's a Coastie.” His tone held pride. “I don't want to live anywhere else. I'm a commercial fisherman, like my dad. At least that's what I want to do, if my uncle will let me.” He bent down to slide the fish onto a paper plate.

While he was bending over, she shoved him with her foot, and he toppled onto the sand. In a flash, she was running to the boat.

When her feet hit the water, she turned and brandished the knife. “Stay back!”

He'd gained his feet and already stood only five feet away. “You won't cut me.”

“Try me!” She wagged the knife blade at him. “I've been kidnapped, half starved, left to rot during a hurricane, nearly drowned. I'm not someone you want to mess with.”

She began to back through the waves toward the boat. He stood watching her with a scowl.

“You are just as crazy as they said,” he called. “You don't even know which direction is land.”

She stopped. “I'll figure it out.”

“You don't have enough gas for exploring.”

He was just trying to scare her. She continued to back toward the boat. Her bare foot moved and found nothing under it. The underwater hole made her lose her balance, and she fell back into the water. She came up brandishing the knife and sputtering, but he was already at her side.

He snatched the knife from her hand and grabbed her arm. “I was beginning to wonder about what I'd been told, but you just proved how dangerous you are. You tried to cut me like you did your brother.” He dragged her back to the beach and left her there.

Brent and Vanessa were ensconced in rooms across the hall from Libby. After she'd helped to settle them, Alec called her to say a sketch artist was coming. Libby met the artist—a woman—in the parlor and did the best job she could. She could only pray the drawings helped find Nicole.

After the artist left, Libby went to see if she could help Delilah with dinner. The manager had a suite on the second floor and rarely left the property. Libby had the impression that Delilah had been here a long time and was content with her home. Maybe she could get some information out of the woman.

She found Delilah in the kitchen stirring something that smelled amazing. “Is that she-crab soup?”

Delilah smiled. “It is. This is a special recipe with whipping cream and butter. No flour to thicken it either. Want a taste?” Delilah held out a spoonful.

Libby sipped it and closed her eyes as the rich, buttery flavor hit her taste buds. “It's heavenly.”

“I thought you'd like it.”

“Can I help with anything? We have a lot of people to feed.”

Delilah's eyes widened. “Really? You wouldn't mind? I let our cook take the day off to help with cleanup in town.”

“I love to cook, actually. I don't get much opportunity since it's just me and Nicole. She's rarely around anyway. It's hard to cook for one.” Libby lifted the CD player in her hand. “I need music though. That okay with you?”

“Of course. I sometimes listen to Beethoven.”

“This isn't Beethoven.” Libby plugged the player in and started the Counting Crows CD. The lyrics to “Big Yellow Taxi” made her pause.
Paved paradise
.

Delilah stared at her. “Is that what you want, Libby? To see this place become one big parking lot?”

Libby's smile faded. “I don't want that to happen any more than you do.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know yet.” She pulled the notebook out from under her arm. “Do you have a menu plan for the next week? I assume our guests will be here that long?”

“A few weeks, most of them,” Delilah said. “It sounds like Ray's house is pretty bad, so your brother and sister might be here longer, maybe months.”

Months. It would be expensive to feed all of them. Libby mentally counted up the residents. Eight. “Are they chipping in for food?”

“Alec was quick to give me some money for him and Zach. I doubt Vanessa and Brent will contribute. They consider the inn home.” Delilah's glance held curiosity. “They know who you are, right?”

“They were less than pleased to meet me.”

“Don't take it to heart, honey. It's just a shock. Especially to Vanessa. She's always been a daddy's girl, and she's just jealous.”

“Jealous? I didn't even know him.”

“But he loved you,” Delilah said. “Vanessa realizes that. She never wanted to share Ray with anyone, not even her mother. She's been obsessive about him. So much so that Ray had her in counseling when she was fifteen or so. It got a little better, but this has got to send her reeling.”

Was their mother anything like her own? Libby had noticed people often chose the same kind of mates when they remarried. “What about their mother?”

Delilah smiled. “Everyone loved Tina. Ray was nuts about her right up to the day she died.” She pointed to the refrigerator. “If you want to fix some salad, go right ahead. We're having grilled lobster, soup, and salad tonight.”

Libby winced at how much that must cost. “For so many?”

Delilah stirred the soup. “Zach brought me the lobster and crab. I only had to buy veggies for salad. This is a cheap dinner.”

“That was nice of him. Most young men wouldn't have thought of that.”

“Alec's brother raised him right. Most folks in Hope Beach look out for one another. Zach's a little troubled right now, but he'll be all right. He's basically a good boy. Trying to find his place in the world.”