Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (20 page)

“Yes.” Louise looked truly miffed. “I insist that you tell me what went on between you two last night.”

Blake frowned. He wasn't used to being grilled by girlfriends' mothers. Not that he'd experienced too many girlfriends or their mothers. But this was just plain weird.

“What did you do to my daughter?” she demanded for the second time.

“Nothing,” he answered.

“Nothing?” She firmly shook her head. “You two left together, came home separately, and then Janice, as I said, went to pieces. Something happened, Blake.”

“Yes, something did happen,” he admitted. “Did you ask Janice about it?”

“I didn't get the opportunity. She cried and carried on like an adolescent last night and then, just like that, fell asleep.”

“Right.” He wondered if she'd passed out.

“And she's still sleeping now. Poor thing!”

He carefully considered his words. “The only thing I can tell you is that Janice and I have mutually decided to part ways.”

“Mutually?” She narrowed her faded blue eyes at him.

“Yes, mutually. After the silent auction event, I was very honest with Janice. I explained that I thought she and I were too different, and it would be best—”

“Of course you're different, Blake. But everyone knows that opposites attract.”

Blake wanted to tell her he felt absolutely no attraction to her daughter but knew that sounded harsh. “Not always.”

“What did Janice do to change your feelings?” Louise grew meeker. “I realize she's a different sort of girl. A bit strong-willed and, Lord knows, she's useless in the kitchen. But men these days don't care so much about that sort of thing. She's an intelligent woman, a good attorney, and has a brilliant political career ahead of her. All she needs is a good man by her side.”

“I agree on all accounts, but—”

“If you agree, why did you break her heart?”

“I broke her heart?” He studied Louise closely. “How so?”

“I could see she was falling for you,” Louise said earnestly. “I've known Janice her whole life, and I never saw her fall so quickly or so completely for a fellow.”

“Really?”

“Would I jest with you about my own flesh and blood?”

“No, I doubt you would do that.” Now Blake felt guilty. He'd had no idea that Janice had been that serious. She had an odd way of showing it. She'd started that argument last night and had been equally glad to call it quits.

“At first I wondered if it was simply the romantic atmosphere here in Martha's Vineyard. That's understandable—white sails in the sunset and moonlight and all that. But then I began to realize that Janice was genuinely attracted to you.” Louise clutched her hands to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “I was so moved by it, Blake. I was already adopting you into my family. You and your precious little girl. You probably think I'm a foolish old woman, but I was already planning a wedding, in my head of course. I could just imagine Sicily as a junior bridesmaid in a dress of shell pink, Janice in creamy white satin, you in a dove-gray tuxedo, a small but elegant ceremony at Gay Head lighthouse—”

“Daddy?” Sicily came out onto the deck in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said eagerly, relieved for this distraction. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh. But we need to get over to The Gallery so I can paint the mural with Waverly today.”

He stood now. “That's right.” He gave Louise a sympathetic smile. “I guess we'll have to finish this conversation later.”

“Well, I suppose…”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see that Sicily gets some breakfast before she heads off to her first day of work.”

“Of course, but I—”

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with me.”

“You will keep in mind what I told you?” she questioned him. “You'll carefully consider what I said, won't you?”

“Absolutely.” He gave her a stiff smile as he reached for the screen door.

“And we'll talk more later?”

He nodded briskly. “Oh, I'm sure we will.” Then he turned and hurried inside, instantly wishing he'd never cut that handy little trail between their two houses. Perhaps he should consider putting up a fence now. Or maybe even a stone wall to protect him from all the things that Louise might start slinging his way if he didn't do something to smooth this thing over with Janice.

“Was Louise mad about something?” Sicily asked as she took the pitcher of orange juice from the fridge.

“Mad?” He got out the egg carton and began breaking eggs into a bowl. So far he knew five things his picky daughter would eat for breakfast, only two which did not involve cold cereal. But thankfully, and perhaps due to Waverly's influence, since Sicily had quoted her new friend, Sicily now appeared more concerned about “eating healthy” than counting carbs and calories.

“Yeah.” She sipped her juice. “She sounded mad. Was she?”

“I wouldn't use the word
mad.”
He dumped the egg mixture into the hot pan, listening to the sizzle as he stirred. “Upset maybe.”

“Because of Janice?”

“What makes you think that?” He poured himself another cup of coffee, watching the eggs bubbling.

“Cuz you came home without her. And why did you ride Waverly's bike anyway?”

“How did you know—”

“I saw it on the porch last night, Dad. I'm not blind.”

He wondered how much to say as he dished out their scrambled eggs. Then, setting their plates down, he decided to take Waverly's advice about trusting his daughter. He knew she was right. Sicily was much more mature than her nine years belied. “Truth is, Janice and I got into a little fight last night.”

Sicily frowned. “You broke up with her?”

“Would that bother you much?” Now he knew he had the upper hand here. Sicily didn't really like Janice. If anything, she should be elated about this new development.

“Yes, Dad, that
would
bother me.” She stared at him like he wasn't too smart. And he felt like someone had just changed the rules on him.

“Why would you care?”

“Because Janice is like family, Dad. And I really, really like Louise and Vivian and Waverly. So if you and Janice are together, it's like we're part of their family. And that is a very good thing.” She smiled brightly, as if it should be perfectly clear.

“I see, and I can understand that.” More than he cared to say in fact. “But what if I wasn't dating Janice, but we could still be friends with Louise and Vivian and Waverly?”

“Oh, Dad.” She sounded exasperated. “Don't you get it? It's okay if I don't like Janice that much. I still like the rest of her family. And it's not like I'd be the one marrying her anyway.”

“Marrying her?”

Sicily nodded. “Well, you don't plan to just
live
with her, do you? Mom wouldn't like that, Dad.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I suppose she wouldn't.” Never mind that Gia had lived with Gregory for nearly a year when Sicily was too young to understand such things. Not that he had any intention of living with Janice—or anyone else for that matter.

“So, it's fine with me if you make up with Janice.” She smiled like that settled it. “And, really, she's okay sometimes. Besides, it gives you someone to hang with, you know, like while I'm working with Waverly.”

“Kind of keeps me out of your hair?” he added.

She laughed. “Yeah. Maybe so.”

Sicily seemed to have it figured out. In a nine-year-old sort of way she'd decided that he could have one of the cousins and she could have the other, and everyone would be happy.

He was still pondering these things as he carefully loaded Waverly's bike in the back of his SUV. He'd even taken time to wipe the bike down with a soft rag, making certain he returned it in as good of shape as possible.

“I was thinking I should leave my new bike at Waverly's,” Sicily said as she got into the car.

“Why's that?”

“Then she and I can take rides together. Like we did yesterday. It was really fun, Dad.”

“What if I want to take a ride with you?” he asked.

“Well, we could just go and pick up my bike.”

“Right.”

She had it planned. Although he knew he should be grateful that Sicily was finally interested in life beyond video games, he felt envious. Not only was he jealous that his own daughter preferred Waverly's company to his, it miffed him nearly as much that Waverly probably preferred Sicily to him. He was definitely odd man out.

Waverly woke up thinking about Blake. Perhaps she'd been dreaming about him. She wasn't totally sure. But she was sure of one thing—she was determined to get control over
this thing.
Despite his surprising late-night visit, which turned out to be motivated by a necessity for transportation, there was still the Janice factor to consider. No way did Waverly intend to cross that line with her cousin. It was one thing to squabble over toys as children, but when it came to men and romance, Waverly was just not going there.

No, if Waverly was to have any future with Blake, and that was extremely uncertain, she would wait until she was convinced the coast was completely clear. Perhaps even until Janice returned to the mainland coast. From what Waverly had heard, that wasn't going to happen until
after
the Fourth. Until then, Waverly would simply keep a low profile and focus on work. Work had been her escape for years now. Why should this be any different?

She went down to the arcade and unlocked the door at seven o'clock sharp. Several hours earlier than usual, but so that Zach could get in and set up. She'd already gone over the details with him, specifying which wall to begin with, and he'd promised an early start, although according to Rosie, there was such a thing as “island time” here. Waverly checked the gallon paint cans and the notes she'd placed on top of them. For now she'd gone with a buttery yellow basecoat. In a way it was neutral. After that, whatever happened when she and Sicily applied their touches from the pint-sized cans of a rainbow's selection worth of paint was anyone's guess. To be honest, Waverly didn't really care. Anything beyond drab beige would be a vast improvement in here.

Next she dashed down the street to the coffee shop, ordered a latte and an “Egg-Witch,” then hurried back to the arcade to wait for Zach. Fortunately Zach's “island time” wasn't too far off, and by 7:30 he was applying the first coat of paint. Since he appeared to know what he was doing, she took the remainder of her latte and breakfast sandwich back to the coffee shop, where she made herself comfortable at an outdoor table and took her time perusing the latest issue of
The Martha's Vineyard Times.

“Good morning.”

She looked up to see Reggie Martin, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other, smiling down at her. “Hello.” She motioned to a vacant chair across from her. “Care to join me?”

“Love to.” He set down his book, pulled out the chair, and sat down. “Fine morning, isn't it?”

“Gorgeous.” She nodded.

“I love this time of day.” He looked down the relatively quiet street.

“So do I.”

“It's as if the rest of the world is still in bed, leaving the best part of the morning to us.”

She took in a deep, happy breath. “And the air feels fresher too.”

“I thought you'd be hard at work with your painting project.”

“Mostly I just needed to get up in time to let the painter in by seven, and make certain he was set up. My young assistant shouldn't be here until nine or so. Hopefully the first coat will be dry by then.”

“I'll be interested to see the fruits of your labors.”

She laughed. “Me too.”

“I really enjoyed getting to know you better last night,” he said quietly.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I had a lovely evening too. It was the first time I'd really gone out and done something special since I arrived here.”

“You need to do that more often.” He took a sip of coffee. “Otherwise you might as well be living on the mainland.”

“I agree.”

They sat there visiting pleasantly into second cups of coffee—long enough that Waverly lost track of the time. It wasn't until she heard a child's voice calling out her name that she realized it was already past nine. Down the street she saw Sicily, dressed in overalls, coming their way with her father not far behind.

“Uh-oh.” Waverly checked her watch. “Guess it's later than I thought.”

“Is that Blake from last night?” Reggie asked.

“Yes. Blake is Sicily's father.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Kind of a family affair then?”

She was uncertain how to respond because Sicily was already within earshot. “Hey, Sicily,” she called out, “I was just about to—”