Where Your Heart Is (Lilac Bay Book 1) (3 page)

I just didn’t see why anyone would want to
live
here, full time.

“Iris,” Posey said, her voice slightly strained. “We’re here.”

I looked up and saw that I had completely passed the café. Posey was shooting me a look that I could only describe as disappointed.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” I said, hearing the defensive note in my voice. It wasn’t like I had forgotten what my grandparents’ café looked like. I just…hadn’t noticed it.

Posey held open the door for me, and I slipped inside, the smell of coffee and chocolate hitting me square in the face. It was strange, the way that smelled like home. This island had never been home, not for me. Not really.

“Hey, Mikey,” Posey called out to the guy at the register. “Everything go okay?”

“Fine, Pose,” he called back. “Pretty slow.”

A shadow seemed to cross over her face, but it brightened so quickly, I figured I must have imagined it. “Mikey, this is my cousin—”

“Iris,” he said, smiling as he wiped his hands on the apron around his waist before offering me his hand to shake. “Heard a lot about you. I’m Mike.”

Mike was tall and lanky with a smattering of tattoos stretching up his nicely developed arms. With dark black hair, dark eyes, and a devastatingly charming smile, I had a feeling he was the type of guy that could be counted on to break hearts. He also looked to be in his early twenties. In other words, far too young for me. But nice to look at all the same.

“I’m going to finish up in the back,” Posey said, “then head home, unless you need anything.”

“It’s under control,” he assured her.

“See you tomorrow.”

I followed Posey through the café toward the staff door, my eyes trailing over the familiar shelves and tables. My grandparents hadn’t changed this café much in the years since I’d last set foot inside—or the years before that, honestly. They used to have a full-service restaurant next door, back when I was a kid. It was always packed with locals and tourists alike, but they had shut that down when my grandfather had his first heart attack. The café was easier to manage, much less stress. They served coffee and sandwiches, and the best chocolates and fudge in the entire state. The Lilac Café was one of the most popular spots on the island, both for tourists and locals. It made me sad any time I thought about it, knowing the restaurant was just sitting there, unused. I could still remember the taste of my grandfather’s coq au vin—

“Iris?” Posey asked. She had stopped in the doorway, waiting for me. I realized that I had slowed down, lost in my thoughts.

“I was just thinking about Pops’s coq au vin,” I admitted, and her face broke into a grin.

“Please let that slip when he comes home,” she said. “I know he’ll make it for you. It’s been ages since we’ve had it.”

I followed her through the hallway to the manager’s office and collapsed into the chair opposite her desk. As she got to work on the stacks of papers left scattered on the desk, I asked, “When, uh, do we think that might be? Him coming home, I mean.”

She shot me a worried little frown. “Mimi thinks next month, but…” She shrugged and my stomach clenched.

“He’s not doing as well as they’d like, is he?”

She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. Our grandfather had suffered a second heart attack six months ago, followed by a stroke three months later. He had been in a long-term care facility on the mainland ever since, relearning how to use the left side of his body. In all of our conversations, my grandmother had been positive about his outlook but even from miles away, I could hear the strain in her voice.

“I’ll go see him next week,” I said, trying not to think about having to get back on the ferry. Posey nodded, looking sad.

“I’ll come with you.”

We were quiet for a moment as she worked. I tried not to think about what would happen if my grandfather didn’t come back to the island soon. It was a strain on my grandmother, I knew, running the café without him. Probably the reason Posey had started taking afternoon shifts after school. I felt a flash of shame. They could always count on her. Me, on the other hand…

“Are they doing a big dinner tonight?” I asked to change the subject.

“How’d you guess?” Posey asked, rolling her eyes. “Greg and Sage are even coming.”

Greg was Posey’s brother, Sage his wife. They had three little kids and lived in a nice little bungalow in Traverse City, the nearest decent-sized city on the mainland. I was torn between excitement at seeing my other cousins and a nagging little stab of unease. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of them all present for my arrival in town, tail between my legs.

“Aunt Minny, too.” Her voice was just a touch too casual, and I felt my spine stiffen involuntarily. When I didn’t say anything, she looked up at me, eyes wide and worried. “Is that…okay?”

“Of course.” I forced a smile onto my face. “I was well aware that my mother lived on the island when I decided to come, Pose. I assumed I would see her sooner than later.”

“Have you…talked to her?”

I shrugged. “When I decided to visit.” I busied myself with a stack of recipe books on the counter, wishing she would drop it. I didn’t really want to talk about my mother. It wasn’t like we were estranged, or something dramatic like that. We just…weren’t that close. It wasn’t a big deal. Lots of people aren’t close to their parents.

And I wished my cousin would stop looking at me like that.

Before she could say anything else on the topic, there was a knock on the door. A moment later, the door cracked open, and an all too familiar head of dark blond hair filled the space.

“Posey,” David said, nodding at her. I noticed that he wasn’t smiling, but his expression was far from the scowl he had worn when he saved me on the dock. “I have that order. Can you sign for it?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks, David.” She jumped up from her chair as he opened the door the rest of the way, handing a clipboard full of papers to her.

“Both pages,” he instructed.

Posey scrawled her name, flipped the paper, and scrawled again before handing the clipboard back. “There you go.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it taken care of right away.”

She grinned. His expression didn’t change. God, had he always been so moody? I definitely didn’t remember
that
.

“Oh, David,” she said, looking over at me. “I know I said thank you back at the dock, but I’m
so
glad you were there.” She widened her eyes a little. “You saved my cousin, and the entire family will be eternally grateful. My grandmother would have killed me if I couldn’t manage to get her safely on shore.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, eyes barely flicking in my direction. “You don’t have to tell them.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That sounds good to me.”

His eyes snapped to my face and away again so quickly, I could almost pretend I didn’t notice. “What?” Posey asked, faux-shocked. “You don’t want the entire Powell clan showering you with their thanks?”

For the first time since I’d opened my eyes to his scowling face on the dock, he smiled. A small smile, but a smile, nonetheless. And the effect was nothing short of spectacular. His eyes crinkled up around the edges, the grey of their depths still dark but not quite so stormy. I could almost imagine him as a nice guy, the way I remembered him—but then the smile faded. “I think I’ll pass.”

He turned to go, but Posey’s hand shot out in a blur and grabbed his shoulder. “Did my cousin get a chance to introduce herself after you saved her life?” she asked, voice sweet and innocent. I wanted to slap her. Like she didn’t know he knew who I was.

“David and I go way back,” I said, my voice tight. Again the little eye flick in my direction. This time his gaze stuck. “Remember, Pose?”

“Iris, right?” David asked.

My mouth dropped open. Was he really going to pretend he hadn’t known me immediately?

Posey must have noticed that I was too annoyed to respond, because she stepped in. “Yeah, Iris. Iris Holder. She went to school with us for a few months, David. Remember?”

“Vaguely.”

I knew I was scowling, but I didn’t care if Posey noticed. “It’s been a while,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “I don’t blame you—I barely recognized you myself.”

He held my gaze for a long moment. Why did that make my stomach tighten? Finally, he turned back toward the door. “Time will do that.” He nodded at my cousin. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” He was out the door in a flash. “You coming to the fish fry?” she called after him.

I thought I heard him respond in the affirmative, but I was too busy thinking of cutting remarks I should have shot in his direction to be sure.

“Well,” Posey said, turning to me, eyebrows raised. “That was interesting.”

“What was interesting?”

She just stood there, watching me, a smile playing around her lips. “Nothing,” she finally said. “Nothing at all.”

She stacked up the receipts she had been working on and tucked them into a zippered pouch, which she then placed in the safe under the desk. When she was done, she straightened and looked at me. I tried to wipe away the expression I knew I was wearing—hot annoyance still coursed through me after my second interaction of the day with my former boyfriend.

“You ready?” she asked, picking up her purse. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and accepted her arm when she offered it. “Come on, cousin of mine. Let’s go home.”

I
had
to admit that Posey had a point about the distance between places on the island. It only took us about ten minutes to walk from the café to our grandparents’ house in the hills outside of town. A car probably wouldn’t have saved us much time—though I still wasn’t ready to admit that it wouldn’t have been nice to have one, all the same.

I paused at the front walk, looking up at Lilac Ridge, a strange sense of nostalgia filling me. I hadn’t been here in ages, but Rose and Francis Powell’s house looked exactly the same as it had years ago. An expansive, white Victorian dating all the way back to the late eighteen hundreds, the house had been in the Powell family for generations. I knew that stepping inside would reveal creaking floors, drafty windows, and small, closed in rooms, all covered in the kind of dark, intricate woodwork popular many, many decades ago—a far cry from the modern, open floor plans and soaring high ceilings in the properties my firm developed. But it was all too easy to overlook those flaws from here. If I closed my eyes, I could practically see Posey, the other cousins, and me running across the wrap-around porch while our grandparents and parents sipped lemonade and half-heartedly told us to settle down. Posey and I had created a thousand fairy stories about Lilac Ridge, with its steep gabled roof, charming bay windows, and turret rising above the second floor. I had always thought it the most beautiful house in the world.

I glanced around the yard, smiling at the pile of bikes near the porch. That was something that hadn’t changed, either—there were always bikes in the yard, abandoned by grandkids or great-grandkids or any number of neighborhood children who had come by to play in the woods behind the house and maybe talk my grandmother out of some of her famous cherry fudge cookies. Next to the walkway, her prized tulips were beginning to poke their heads above ground, and I knew the yard would be a riot of color in a few short weeks.

Never lasts though
, I thought to myself, trying to remember that there was no need to romanticize the place. The seasons were shorter up here, spring seemingly over in the blink of an eye. Only winter seemed to stick around, endless and bitter cold. I didn’t know how they all got through it without going crazy. Eventually, the weather would be too bad for ferry service, effectively trapping most of the town here until Lake Michigan froze deeply enough to form an ice bridge. Isolated, freezing, and completely on their own. I shivered at the thought, reminding myself that there was no reason to think I would still be around by winter. I should be back in Chicago by then, some new, equally flashy job making me forget all about the old one.

“You ready?” Posey asked, voice soft.

I shook myself a little. “As I’ll ever be.”

I followed her up the walk. Before we even reached the front porch, I could hear the noise from inside. An adult was laughing, loud and boisterous, the sound mingling with the squeals and laughter of little voices. Probably my cousin Greg’s kids. A shout for the kids to stop running. And my grandmother’s steady, musical voice, a warm hum that cut through the rest of the noise.

“Jonathan, you get your fingers out of that pie,” Mimi Rose scolded as Posey opened the door.

“Hello!” Posey called out. “Look who I brought!”

I barely had a chance to glance around the foyer before it was filled with people. The kids came barreling in first, knocking Posey right into me. Before I could get my bearings, the entryway was filled with people. Posey hadn’t been exaggerating when she said everyone was coming. They were all there. My Aunt Deen and Uncle Marcus, Posey’s parents. Greg, their oldest, along with his wife Sage, attempting to save me from their kids assault. Pops and Mimi’s oldest, my Uncle Frank, was waving from the back of the crowd, an arm around his wife, Lindsey. Their twin boys, Edward and Andrew, along with Edward’s boyfriend, Zane. I was dizzy before I’d managed to say hello to half of them.

“It’s so good to see you,” Posey’s mom whispered into my ear, hugging me close. I felt the strangest lump in my throat.

“It’s good to see you, too, Auntie Deen,” I managed, hoping she couldn’t hear the shake in my voice. Gardenia, known as Deen to everyone except her mother, had always been one of my favorite relatives. My mom’s older sister was exactly the kind of aunt you wanted growing up because she had never quite managed the feat of growing up herself. When Posey and I had sleepovers, she was right there with us in her own sleeping bag in the living room. She would take us shopping and out for pedicures, and when I was ten and my parents’ business kept them from being able to go on the family trip to Disney World, she had invited me to share their hotel room without a second thought so I wouldn’t have to stay home.

She had also been the one to move Posey and me into our dorm when we went away to school together at DePaul. My dad had been overseas, working. Mom was…well. Let’s just say it hadn’t bothered me at all to have Auntie Deen be the one hugging and kissing me, tears in her eyes, before she drove off and left us to start our college careers.

Before Deen could release me, Jasper, my grandparents’ geriatric beagle, jumped between us, slamming into my knees and nearly knocking me to my ass.

“Jasper!” Deen gasped. “You’ll ruin her lovely jacket!”

“It’s fine,” I said, kneeling down to scratch between his ears. Jasper whimpered happily, kissing my wrists, the only bit of skin he could reach.

“Now it might take me longer to move this old body from the kitchen, but I certainly thought I ranked a bit higher than the dog in your view.”

I looked up to see my grandmother standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She was beaming at me, her eyes wet, and I felt the lump in my throat grow. “Mimi Rose,” I whispered, standing, and then she was pulling me into her strong embrace. She was taller than I was, my grandmother. Taller than my cousin Greg as well. Pictures of her when she was young revealed a statuesque beauty, imposing and regal. Her old age had stolen a few of those impressive inches, but she carried herself exactly the same way. I had always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

There was that smell again, in her arms. The chocolate and cinnamon smell with just a hint of coffee. The scent that felt like home. I breathed in deeply, feeling like I might cry, as she hugged me close.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered in my ear, and I felt a stab of guilt. For most of my life, I had seen her multiple times a year, either visits here on the island or on the mainland at my Uncle Frank’s vacation cabin in Traverse City. My mom and I had even lived with her for those few short months after the divorce. But that was the last time I’d set foot on the island. In recent years, our only visits took place at the cabin. And as my grandfather got too sick for travel, those visits had petered out almost completely. I couldn’t even say for sure when the last time was that I had seen her. Christmas two years ago? The Easter before that?

“I know,” I whispered back, starting to move away. But she didn’t loosen her arms, only held me tighter.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too, Mimi,” I said. And for the first time since I’d decided to make the trip, I actually was glad to be on the island.

* * *

D
inner
at my grandmother’s house was loud, chaotic, and more than a little stressful. Delicious, too, but I was pretty sure the roast chicken and potatoes would have tasted even better if I could have enjoyed them with a little peace and quiet—and, if I’m being honest, if I hadn’t just met Jerry’s chicken a few hours before. As it had been years since I was subjected to a Powell family dinner, I was more than a little rusty with the skill of following no fewer than five conversations at once without getting a headache.

To my great surprise and relief, no one asked me about my job or the circumstances that had led me back to the island. Sure, they danced around it a little. I caught more than one concerned, searching gaze out of the corner of my eye as I ate. And Aunt Deen subjected us to a ten-minute rant about the perils of big-city living. Apparently, she had recently been down to the state capitol in Lansing for her job as town clerk, and was convinced she had nearly been mugged waiting at an intersection.

“Right there on the street!” she cried, eyes wide as she looked from one sympathetic face to the next. “In broad daylight!” Then a pointed glance in my direction. “I can tell you, I had never been more glad to see our cozy little island when I got home.”

I stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to respond that a man bumping into her arm could hardly be classified as a near mugging. Besides, I didn’t think anyone at the table would be too sympathetic to my position that the water surrounding this island was a hell of a lot more dangerous than any would-be mugger in Chicago.

If I thought I was out of the woods, my cousin Andrew, who worked in the accounting department for the city, quickly dashed my hopes. “Did you all see the board at Town Hall this morning?” he asked, his voice way too casual to actually
be
casual. “Lots of hiring happening for the season, looks like. Plenty of jobs for someone who might need a, uh, fresh start.”

I nearly choked on my chicken. Was he honestly suggesting I get a job here? Was I supposed to go from developing and selling the hottest hotels, condominiums, and restaurants in Chicago to…what? Selling ice cream to tourists in Town Square? Helping my cousin Edward in one of the fudge shops on Main Street?

“You’re real subtle, you know, Andrew?” Posey rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Iris doesn’t need to find a job.” She linked her arm through mine. “She’s going to help me at the café.”

“I am?”

She faced me, eyes wide. “Didn’t I ask you?”

“No, Pose. You didn’t.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Greg asked, smirking at his little sister.

“Come on, Iris!” she pleaded. “Once school gets out, I’ll be so bored at the café all day. We could totally have fun together. Just like the old days.”

The old days had consisted of the two of us selling coffee to locals in the dead pre-tourist months. Hardly scintillating work.

“Remember the dance parties after closing?” she asked. “And all the ‘mistake’ fudge we got to eat?” She made over-exaggerated air quotes around the word mistake, and I snickered—until Mimi cleared her throat loudly.

“Mistake fudge, eh? It’s a wonder I didn’t lose money on you two.”

“Well,” Posey said quickly, “I would never do something like that
now
.”

Mimi rolled her eyes, clearly disbelieving, but she was smiling when she turned to me. “It actually would help me out, dear. With your grandfather, it’s harder to get down there as much as I would like. To keep an eye on the business things.”

“What she’s saying,” Posey cut in, “is that I’m terrible at business.”

“I would never say that,” Mimi argued. But her eyes made it clear Posey was more or less on the money.

I supposed it wouldn’t be too bad. Work at the café wouldn’t be hard. And I would get to spend more time with Posey. Plus, sitting around alone all day thinking about what I would have been doing in Chicago was probably not the healthiest thing for me. And, of course, it was basically impossible to deny my grandmother when she actually asked for something—it happened so rarely. She was much more likely to give a favor than ask for one.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

Posey beamed at me. “This is going to be so fun!” she squealed.

I wasn’t exactly sure about fun but I was fairly confident it wouldn’t be too terrible. It was selling coffee and sandwiches for God’s sake. What was the worst that could happen? And it wasn’t like it needed to be long term. I could help for a few weeks, assuage some of my guilt at being the absent grandchild, and move along.

“Zane,” my Uncle Marcus called from the other end of the table. “What’s this I hear about the Big Hotel raising prices again?”

There was a chorus of disbelief around the table as everyone turned to Zane, the dining room manager of the hotel in question. “Again?” Aunt Lindsey asked. “Do they
want
to price the tourists out before the season even starts?”

I sighed a little in relief. Now that the topic of the season had been raised, I knew I was safe from further discussion about my career. There was nothing islanders loved to do more than worry about the season.

As my family went on and on about the upcoming season and our plates steadily emptied, it became harder and harder not to let my gaze flicker over to the lone vacant seat kitty-corner from me. I was annoyed with myself for caring. It’s not like she had told me she would be here when I arrived, although Posey had said she was coming. Knowing my mother, she could have been preoccupied with any number of things. This was the woman, after all, who had once sent the nanny to my ballet recital in her place because she was in the middle of closing a big deal.

And I didn’t blame her for that. I would have done the same thing. A deal is a deal.

Of course, these days, I doubted her absence had anything to do with something as important as a multi-million-dollar deal.