The Goodbye Bride (27 page)

He was right. She decided to shake off the mood. She returned the squeeze. “This is a celebration, and that's exactly what we're going to do. Now if I can just get Brad to go away.”

His brows creased. “He's still bothering you?”

She pulled the paper from her straw and stuck it into her iced tea. “He texts sometimes.”

“He has your new number?”

She winced. “I gave it to him early on when I felt bad for him. I still feel kind of guilty. I mean, I did leave him at the altar with no explanation. Of course he doesn't understand why, and I can't even help with that.”

“That's right, you can't help him. So there's no sense in worrying about his feelings. He's harassing you, and that's not okay. How often do you hear from him?”

“A couple times a day, maybe?”

His eyes went tight. “A couple times a day?”

“I stopped answering. And I never pick up when he calls. I did tell him I was with you now. I mean—” She pinched her lip. Zac hadn't said anything about being exclusive, and now she realized she'd been presumptuous. Heat crawled into her cheeks. “I mean, not that we're, you know . . .”

He threaded his fingers through hers, his eyes piercing hers, going smoky. “Yes, we are
you know
. As far as I'm concerned, you're the only woman in all New England.”

Her heart gave a tug. Her eyes drifted over his straight nose,
his sculpted cheeks, his scruffy jaw. He was so handsome. And he was hers.

Mine.

“Miss Trudy will be mighty dismayed to hear that,” she said.

The corner of his lips tugged upward. “Relatives excluded.”

Conversation flowed effortlessly as they waited for their food. They talked about Riley, who'd Skyped the night before, and about a new band Zac was thinking about adding to the Roadhouse's schedule.

Before she knew it, a huge lobster platter was set in front of her. Zac had gotten the shrimp scampi, and the garlicky dish smelled amazing.

“I think you'd better use this.” Zac picked up the plastic bib with the image of a big red lobster and held it out.

“You're so right.” She leaned forward, and he brushed her hair to the side, reaching around her with the plastic ties. She felt a tiny sting as a piece of hair got caught in the tie.

A memory flashed in her mind: Zac tying another bib around her neck. He'd gotten her hair caught in the knot, and he'd had to retie it. The image was so vivid her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

She grabbed his hand, squeezing tight. “I remember something!”

His eyes zeroed in on hers. “What?”

“I remember being here before. We sat over there.” She pointed toward the far corner.

Something flashed in his eyes. He finished the tie and sat back in his chair. “That's right.”

She froze, waiting for more. And it came. It was two weeks before their wedding. They hadn't spent much time together in
the days leading up. Zac had brought her here to make amends. He'd been distant, moody recently. Withdrawn. He'd been busy, he said. But with the wedding quickly closing in, she'd been worried he was getting cold feet.

Her eyes stopped on the lobster cracker by her plate as another memory surfaced. Her eyes shot to his. “A piece of my lobster flew onto the lap of the lady next to us.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “She wasn't too happy.”

“I remember!” That was good, right? It felt good, getting back another piece of her life. It meant she was on the mend. She could move forward, with Zac.

Zac watched with mixed emotions as a myriad of feelings washed over Lucy's face. He remembered that night as if it were yesterday. He'd been under so much stress. He was still grieving the loss of his dad; one of his cooks had just quit, leaving him to pick up the slack; and he was trying to help Beau get the Christmas tree farm ready to open for the season. Add one full-time server off with a broken leg, plus an upcoming wedding, and he had a disaster in the making.

He'd given his fiancée precious little time, and he knew that wasn't right. She was the best thing in his life. How many times had he wondered, after she'd left, if it was his own fault? Had he chased her away? Had she simply tired of his dark mood?

“I can't believe I remembered something.” Her eyes lit with excitement, and a smile revealed both dimples.

“That's great, Lucy. Really great.” A heavy weight settled in his chest.

They tucked into their food, but the shrimp scampi had lost all appeal. He swallowed past a fist-sized lump as two questions traveled his mind in relentless circles: Would the rest of her memory come back? And if it did, would she still want him?

Chapter 33

L
ucy took her mail out to the deck. The weeknight was slow at the restaurant, and she had the space all to herself. She'd left Zac in the kitchen dealing with a late bread delivery. They were both having busy weeks, and Zac had suggested they spend the upcoming Saturday evening together.

“I'll plan it,” he said. “Just be ready at five and wear something comfortable.”

On the deck she kicked off her heels, and her feet practically sighed in relief. The evening was beautiful, the sinking sun stealing the warmth of the day. A salty breeze blew in off the sea, pushing her hair over her shoulders.

She tore open the first envelope, her credit card bill. She looked at the balance. Ugh. She stuck the bill back in the envelope. A Nordstrom flyer, addressed to her, attested to her expensive taste in shoes. Her eyes caught on a pair of emerald Gucci sling-backs with a silver buckle. Her pulse gave a leap at the sleek design and glossy leather. Gorgeous!

Remembering her credit card bill, she gave a hard sigh and set the flyer on the table. She passed on a political brochure and a
credit card offer. The last envelope was from an investment firm. She slid a finger under the flap, her eyes on a seagull that swooped near the deck, hoping for a crumb.

“Sorry, little guy, not allowed.” Zac had signs posted, but that didn't stop tourists from feeding the birds.

She pulled out the slip of paper and unfolded it, reading. Her eyes narrowed on the words. On the information that followed. On the numbers.

What?

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reread the statement, checked the name at the top. Looked at the number again. She glanced at the letterhead. The investment firm was located in Savannah. She punched the number into her phone, but it was after five. She doubted they were still open.

“B&D Investments.”

“Hi, um, may I speak with”—she checked the bottom of the statement—“Allen Foster?”

“Name, please?”

“Lucy Lovett.”

“Oh, Miss Lovett. Just a moment. I'll put you right through.”

Had the woman's voice warmed when she'd said Lucy's name? Lucy looked over the statement while she waited. All those zeros . . . She blinked, and they were still there. The paper shook in her hand.

“Lucy,” a male voice said. He sounded older, maybe in his sixties. “It's so good to hear from you. How are you?”

“Thank you, um, Mr. Foster. I'm—I guess I'm doing just fine.”

He gave a warm chuckle. “Allen,” he corrected. “I thought we settled that a long time ago.”

“Yes, well, the thing is Mr., uh, Allen, I don't exactly remember
that conversation. Or lots of other conversations.” She explained her injury and the memory loss she'd been coping with.

“Oh, you poor dear! Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, actually, there is. I got a statement in the mail from your firm. Am I to understand I have money invested with you?”

“Oh my . . . I'm not certain how much you remember. Are you aware that your great-aunt, ah . . .”

“Yes. I know she passed on. I don't remember it, but I read about it in the paper.”

He tsked. “I'm so sorry. What a wretched way to find out. But yes, your aunt Audrey left you a healthy sum, and you invested the majority in the market. I'd be happy to review your portfolio with you if you'd like.”

“But—but she always said she was giving everything to charity. She didn't believe in leaving money to heirs. She said it made for spoiled and entitled children.”

“She didn't want you counting on the money, that's all. She wanted you to make your own way and have your own goals. You did. You have.”

“But her estate . . . her home and . . .”

“All settled. You handled that months ago.”

“Oh. I feel so silly.” How did she not remember any of this? She rubbed her temples as if it might make the memories reappear.

“Not at all. The brain is a perplexing organ. Would you like to go over your portfolio tonight? I have a dinner appointment in half an hour, but I'd be happy to call you afterward.”

Her mind was reeling, mostly with all those zeroes. “Would you mind sending me the information in the mail? I have a feeling I'll need to see it all in black and white.”

“Of course.”

She gave him her current address so it wouldn't be forwarded and hung up the phone. Still staring at the number on the bottom line, she headed inside and found Zac in the back alley signing off with the bread guy. She waited by the back door until he was finished.

A minute later exhaust fumes filled the air as the truck pulled away.

Zac turned, a smile tipping his lips when he caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed as they studied her face. “What's that secret little smile all about?”

She blinked, still trying to believe it was true. “I have money.” Her voice sounded as dazed as she felt.

Zac pulled her into his arms. “That's good, because you've worked up quite a tab, young lady. All those sweet teas are adding up.”

She braced her hands on his arms. “No, Zac. I mean I have
money
. A lot of it.”

He tilted his head, studying her, his fathomless gray eyes questioning.

She held up the statement. “I got this in the mail from an investment firm, and I just called. My aunt left me everything.
Everything.
Apparently I settled up the estate, I just don't remember it.” She handed him the paper.

He took the statement and looked it over, his eyes widening when they hit the bottom line. “Holy moly. That's a lot of zeros.”

“I know, right? Can you believe it?”

His eyes found hers again, searching. “What do you think about that?”

“I don't know what to think. It's so new.” What did a person do, coming into sudden money of that kind? She was used to clipping
coupons and saving for apartment deposits and shopping for bargains.

“I don't know who that Lucy Lovett was—the one in Portland. I'm so confused.”

He tipped her chin up. “She was the same Lucy that's standing right in front of me. She had a sweet Southern drawl, a special way with people, and a big heart.”

His words warmed her from the inside out. She gave a wry smile. “And a big bank account apparently. No wonder I could afford that apartment.”

Zac placed a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into his arms. “It's just money. It doesn't change who you are. And hey . . . now you could open that community center you were talking about. Wouldn't that be something?”

The thought made her chest squeeze tight. She
could
open a community center. The thought of providing a safe place for people, for kids, to connect made her heart race. She saw it as a gathering place. She'd love it if it could be free for the community—and now she actually had the money to pull it off.

She settled into his embrace, letting her hands drift over the hard muscles of his arms. She breathed in his spicy scent, savoring the smell of him. The feel of him.

She snuggled deeper into his arms. She could stay like this forever. In Summer Harbor. In his arms. She could start her community center and keep her little room in the Roadhouse. Maybe she could afford the biggest home in Summer Harbor and a yacht the size of Rhode Island, but that didn't mean she had to have it.

That pair of emerald-green Guccis, though . . . those were all hers.

Chapter 34

T
he next morning while Lucy was working she missed a call from Brad. She was relieved that he'd left no voicemail, but a few minutes later a text came in.

Can't we at least talk? I need to hear your voice and know
you're okay. I need to see you. I miss you. Please call me back.

A niggle of fear wormed through her veins. Her senses went on heightened alert. She cast a look out the screen door of the visitor center as if he might appear on the stoop.

Stop it, Lucy. You're being melodramatic.

He'd been her fiancé, after all. Maybe he didn't know when to quit, but some part of her must've loved him and trusted him in order to have accepted his proposal.

Later that afternoon she locked up the center, anticipating seeing Zac. She'd gotten in the habit of hunting him down in the restaurant and greeting him with a kiss. She loved seeing the heart-stopping smile that curved his lips when he caught sight of her.