On Sunset Beach (38 page)

No more than you have
, Carly could have said. Instead, she merely shook her head, plastered her best smile on her face, and set off to find Evan Smith.

By eleven, it was over. The visitors had all trailed off, most to one of the B&Bs in town where they’d been lucky enough to find a vacancy, others to the inn. Just as had been hoped, most of the people on Carly’s VIP list had come to St. Dennis on Friday night and were staying till Sunday. Carly saw out the last of the stragglers with promises to call when such and such a painting became available.

“You could have sold every last one of them,” Enrico told her.

“Ellie could find herself a very, very wealthy woman if she decides to sell them.”

“She still doesn’t know what she’s going to do?”

Carly shook her head. “She might not do anything with them for a while, and she shouldn’t, at least until she has a strong feeling to either sell or not sell. She doesn’t have to sell any of them right now, or ever.”

“Good,” he said. “Drives up the price the longer they stay off the market.”

“True enough.”

She turned out the lights and paused at the doorway before arming the alarm. “Ready?”

“I am.” He walked past her and she punched in the code, then locked the door.

“Where does a thirsty guy go to get a drink in this little town?” he asked as they walked to their cars, hers in the driveway, his rental a few blocks down the street.

“There’s a nice place down by the marina. Captain Walt’s. Great seafood and a great bar.”

“I’m there.” He stopped next to her driver’s-side door. “You want to join me?”

“Thanks, but I’m exhausted. I have done nothing but eat, sleep, and drink this exhibit for the past couple of months. I’m going to go back to the house and crash.”

“You okay?”

“I’m just tired.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Brunch at the inn where I’m staying, right?”

She nodded. “See you in the morning.”

Carly drove home, exhausted and depressed. All of her energy had been poured into making this day, this
night, a success, and she’d done that. Still, the evening had lacked the shine, the electricity she’d hoped for. The zip it would have had if Ford had been there with her. For Carly, the paintings and the exhibit were all entwined with Ford, with their days and nights at the house on Hudson Street. Now that he was gone, everything, even Carolina’s paintings, had lost their glow.

She pulled into her driveway, got out of the car, and locked it. She was almost to the porch when she saw the figure sitting on the top step.

“How was it?” he asked.

Her heart almost stopped. “It was fine. Ford …”

“I’m so sorry. I tried to get home in time. I swear I did. But my plane was late and I—”

She burst into tears. In two strides he was there, holding her, rocking her gently.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I know how much the gallery means to you, how much the exhibit …” He swallowed hard. “Baby, I’m sorry I didn’t make it. Please stop crying.”

“I’m not crying because you weren’t there.” She gulped between sobs. “I’m crying because you came back. Because you’re here.”

“Of course I came back.” His arms tightened around her. “
You’re
here.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Mr. Nakimbe is now a guest of his government. He’ll be put on trial soon for war crimes. That is, if he isn’t assassinated while he’s in prison.”

“But you’re done with it?”

He nodded. “I gave my testimony. I’m done with it.” He took her hand and led her back to the porch. He sat on the top step and pulled her onto his lap.

“Does your mom know that you’re back?” she asked.

“There’s time to tell her in the morning.”

“She’s going to want you to stay, you know. To stay and take over the paper.”

“That’s the plan,” he said solemnly.

“Seriously? You want to work for Grace at the paper?”

“I’d rather have her work for me.”

Carly laughed. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“That has to be part of the plan. I’ll work for her now, learn the ropes, but she’s going to have to ease out at some point and let me take over. She can continue to write features when she wants, she can cover the local events and the weddings and the parades like she has for the past fifty years. But sooner or later, she’s going to have to cough up the reins.”

“You’re going to push her out?” Carly was horrified.

“No. I’m going to make her an offer she can’t refuse.” He stroked her back while he spoke. “This accident of hers has made me realize a lot of things, like the fact that my mother is mortal. She’s worked too hard for too many years, and she deserves to slow down a little. Take life a little easier.”

“What if she doesn’t want to?”

“That’s going to be the deal. I’ll stay, I’ll take it over, but she has to take more time for herself.”

“Would you leave if she refused?”

“Would you go with me, if I did?” He turned her face toward him. “The whole time I was away, all I could think about was you. How much I missed you. How much I need to be with you.”

“Don’t say you’ll stay in St. Dennis just because of
me. If you take over the
Gazette
and your heart isn’t in it, you’ll end up resenting me and the paper and probably your mother as well.”

“That’s the thing. I had a lot of time to think, Car. I realized that I
want
to work at the paper. I want to be the one from my generation to keep it going, just like my mom, and like my granddad was in his day. I want to be the one to step up. I always sort of pooh-poohed it, but being here, seeing what that newspaper means to the town, to the people who live here and work here … I can’t let it end with my mother.” He smiled. “Besides, I kind of like doing the features thing. Meeting people, interviewing them, finding out what makes them interesting or special. I’ve enjoyed it.” He tilted her face to his. “I want to stay, Car. I want to stay here with you and see what kind of a life we could build together. If you’re interested, that is.”

She searched in his pocket for his phone, scrolled through his playlist until she found what she was looking for, made her selection, then stuck the phone back into his pocket as the music began to play.

“You Had Me at Hello.”

“That’s my line,” Ford told her.

“I’m borrowing it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Does that mean you’ll stay in St. Dennis, too?”

“That means I’ll work out a way to run my businesses from here as much as possible. Ellie’s thinking about leaving all of her paintings right where they are, and that means that someone has to be in charge of the exhibit for as long as it’s running. No one knows Carolina’s work better than I do. Besides, I’ve had some
really good ideas for that gallery, and I’d like to explore them.”

“Well, then, it looks like we’ve both landed in the same place at the same time.”

“Looks like.” She ran a finger along the side of his face. “So I guess this means you’re staying.”

“I guess it does. You know what they say: there’s no place like home.”

She searched her bag for the house keys, stood and pushed open the door, and led him into the darkened house. She wrapped her arms around him, then kicked the door closed with her foot.

“Welcome back, Ford,” she whispered. “Welcome home …”

Writing a novel—much like raising a child—takes a village. I will be eternally grateful to everyone at Ballantine Books for being my village—especially Gina Wachtel, Junessa Viloria, and most of all, Linda Marrow, who bought my first book lo those many years ago and started me on this incredible journey.

Heartfelt thanks to my agent, Loretta Barrett, for always representing me with honesty and integrity, and for the blessing of your friendship.

Thanks to Chery Griffin, Helen Egner, and Jo Ellen Grossman for unwavering friendship across the years and across the miles. I love you and appreciate the support you always offer.

And thanks to my beautiful, crazy, wonderful family—Bill, Becca, Kate, Mike, Cole, and Jack. You are my everything.

B
Y
M
ARIAH
S
TEWART

On Sunset Beach

At the River’s Edge

The Long Way Home

Home for the Summer

Hometown Girl

Almost Home

Home Again

Coming Home

Acts of Mercy

Cry Mercy

Mercy Street

Last Breath

Last Words

Last Look

Final Truth

Dark Truth

Hard Truth

Cold Truth

Dead End

Dead Even

Dead Certain

Dead Wrong

Forgotten

Until Dark

The President’s Daughter