Chapter Nine
Luke’s “Hi” died in his throat when Miranda opened the door of her log cabin at SkySong. After swallowing hard, he managed to croak, “You look amazing.”
Her wavy blond hair was up in a fancy hairdo with a few loose, curly tendrils. It drew attention to her face, and she was wearing more makeup than usual. Not the exaggerated stuff she’d worn as a teen, but the kind Candace had favored, that made her eyes look even larger and brighter, and called attention to her high cheekbones and full lips. Silver and abalone earrings dangled from delicate earlobes.
As if that weren’t enough, she wore a scoop-necked, long-sleeved top that hugged her slim curves. The fabric was silky and the blue-green colors rippled and shifted like the ocean. With it she wore a black skirt that ended well above her knees, revealing amazing legs in sheer black hose and pretty feet in strappy, high-heeled shoes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “I didn’t realize . . . I mean, I knew you were attractive, but wow.”
She was grinning, seeming to take pleasure in his stunned reaction. “You clean up okay yourself, Dr. Chandler.”
You rarely saw a suit on Destiny, not even at weddings or funerals, and he saw no reason to own one. Tonight he’d gone with tailored black wool pants, a green cotton shirt—sage green, his mom had said when he’d opened it at Christmas—and the green-and-gold striped tie she’d paired it with. “You can thank my mom. She’s the only one in the family”—at least now that Candace was gone—“who gives a damn about clothes.”
“Not Candace’s mother? Candace was always so well dressed.”
“In reaction to her mom, who lives in denim and flannel.”
“I guess if you’re that rich, you can do whatever you like.”
“Ready to go? Is Ariana in good hands?”
“I hope so. Eden’s sister is looking after her.” Miranda took a black leather coat from a hook by the door. “She’s been going ‘please, please, please let me babysit’ for months, but I’ve almost never gone out.”
He took the coat and held it so she could slide her arms into it.
That lily of the valley scent drifted toward him and he leaned closer, inhaling and enjoying.
Miranda hooked the strap of her purse over her shoulder and called, “Bye, bye.”
“Bye! Have fun!” came a light feminine voice.
“I’m fighting the urge to issue the reminders again,” Miranda admitted as she closed the door behind them.
“To call you if she has any concerns?” He tucked her hand through his arm because SkySong, a rural retreat by the ocean, had limited lighting and the sun, such as it had been on this early March day, had already set. Or maybe just because he wanted to be closer to her.
“And to remember that Di and Seal are close by.” She sighed. “I’d have had Aaron and Eden babysit, but they’re off at Jillian’s wedding. You know her, right?”
“Sure. She’s another island native.” Jillian was a pilot and flew for Aaron part-time.
She nodded. “It’s a small ceremony, just their families and Aaron and Eden. Jillian says she’s eternally grateful to Aaron because he introduced her to flying.”
“It’s her passion?” he asked as he opened the passenger door of his SUV and helped her up. The vehicle wasn’t built for a woman in high heels, though it was perfect for his needs: comfortable seating for him and the boys, plus a large back area for the family pets, his vet equipment, and any smallish animals he needed to transport. He could also tow a horse trailer.
She waited while he went around and climbed in the driver’s side. “Seems so. Just like with Aaron, who in turn was inspired by Lionel.”
“And I wouldn’t be a vet if it weren’t for Viola.” He turned on the engine and adjusted the heater. “It’s great to have that kind of inspiration and mentorship.” He guessed that Miranda’d never had a person like that, so he didn’t ask. Instead, as he carefully drove the unlit road through the SkySong property, he said, “Is working with little kids your passion?”
“I think it might be. I love kids and I’m enjoying the coursework, though some of it’s tough.” Wryly, she added, “I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to school. But it helps when I’m interested in what I’m studying.”
“That’s for sure. But you can work at some daycares without being licensed, so why put yourself through the course?”
“Because children are important,” she said solemnly. “They’re the most important thing, I think. And they deserve to be properly looked after.”
“I sure won’t argue with that.” Yeah, she’d be good at her job, and her studies would help her be an even more knowledgeable mom. “I hope it does turn out to be your passion. It’s so much easier to get up on a cold, dark morning when that alarm rings, knowing you’re going to a job you love.”
“It would be. Waitressing and retail were okay, depending on where I worked, but they sure never made me feel that way.”
It was nice having her beside him in the big cab as he drove through the night toward the village of Blue Moon Harbor, the radio on low, providing background music. He could get used to this.
After a minute or two, she said, “You said your in-laws liked it that you were following your passion. They are as well, right?”
“Yeah. Her with her video games and him with photography.”
“How about your parents?” Miranda asked. “And your stepdad? You said he made the coffee table in my cabin?”
“Yes. Forbes is a woodworker and has a real sense of the wood. He does enjoy it but his other passion is music. He’s always played.”
“He taught Julian? And inspired him?”
“Guess so. Julian was already really good by the time Forbes and Mom married. As for my own dad, he was a chiropractor and yes, he loved it.” How ironic that his father, who’d happily devoted his life to healing, had been defeated by cancer. “Mom’s always been a teacher—except for a couple of years when she was on leave, when Dad was really sick and then he died and she was so depressed. But yeah, she does enjoy it, so much she may never quit.”
“What and where does she teach?”
“You’d have had her in school, for sciences. Sonia Russo.”
“Oh gosh, Ms. Russo! I’d never have guessed. Your name’s Chandler, and you don’t look much like her.”
“No, I don’t. She looks like her Italian parents and I take after my Anglo dad.”
“She didn’t change her name when she married. Nor did your mother-in-law.”
“Nope.”
“I totally agree with them. So does Eden. The notion of a woman taking her spouse’s name is archaic and paternalistic,” she stated firmly. “Unless you do what Di and Seal did when they had their commitment ceremony, and share a new last name.”
“I’m with you. So was Candace.” He gave a little smile. “Good thing. Annie’d have had a heart attack if her daughter, Candace Yuen-Byrne, became Mrs. Luke Chandler.”
Miranda snorted, and then said, “To get back to your mom, have you told her you’re seeing me? She’d think you’re crazy.”
“I told her. And Miranda, you were a kid. A kid who’d had some crappy stuff happen to you. Mom knows that people can change. Look at Julian. He was as messed up as you in high school. And he’s made a success of himself.”
“I am so not Julian Blake. I’m just a salesclerk single mom who wants to work in a daycare or preschool.”
He hated the way she put herself down. “Where you’d care for children, which we agree is one of the most important jobs in the world.”
“Oh.” Her surprised tone suggested she’d never thought of it that way.
They were driving down Driftwood Road, passing the first village shops. He found a parking spot at the curb and went around to help Miranda out. Remembering the thinness of that leather coat when he’d held it for her, he said, “You going to be warm enough in that?”
“I’m not wearing fleece out for dinner.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s the only nice coat I own. Can you believe it was only forty dollars at a thrift shop, and it had barely been worn?”
“Well, it looks great. You look great.”
He reached for her hand as they walked down the sidewalk, and her slim fingers slipped easily between his larger ones. “Downtown” was quiet on this Saturday night, with only Dreamspinner and the half dozen restaurants and pubs open.
“Have you been to C-Shell before?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve drooled over the menu. You’ve eaten there, I’m sure.”
“Candace and I used to come every month or so.” Then, so she wouldn’t think he’d be depressed, remembering dinners with his wife, he added, “Since then, it’s been my go-to place for parental birthdays and anniversaries.”
She nodded. “What’s up with the name, by the way?”
“It’s owned by Celia and Rachelle. Rachelle is a native Destiny Islander. Her dad is descended from very early settlers of the island, freed slaves from the States who came north to Victoria and then scattered around the area. Anyhow, she runs the front of the house and her wife Celia, who grew up in Vancouver, is the chef.”
“Cool combo on their names. Obviously, it was meant to be, them getting together and opening a seafood restaurant.”
“Like it was their destiny, right?” He winked.
She groaned. “I really wish this island had a different name.”
He chuckled. “Before C-Shell, this was a fish and chips place, but not a very good one. Rachelle and Celia renovated it outside and in.” They’d reached the front door now.
“I like the cedar shakes.”
“They probably wouldn’t look so good in Vancouver,” he teased as he ushered her inside.
Rachelle, all brown and black as usual, with her chocolate skin and black, long-sleeved shirt and pants, glanced up with a smile. “Luke! It’s so good to see you.” She came toward them, her only touch of color in the bright beads that decorated her ears and were woven into her intricate black braids.
“You too, Rachelle. This is Miranda Gabriel. You may remember—”
Miranda jumped in. “You were in Aaron’s class, weren’t you, Rachelle? Your name didn’t ring a bell but I do remember admiring that stunning hair.”
“And you’re his little sister, all grown up and beautiful. Have to say, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
Miranda laughed as she let Luke take her coat. “And that’s a good thing.” She glanced around. “What a great job you’ve done here. I can’t believe you and your wife own a restaurant. And Luke’s a vet, and Aaron has Blue Moon Air. It makes me feel like we’re all so old.”
Rachelle gave a rich laugh. “Older and wiser, if we’re lucky. Come on, I’ll show you to your table.” She turned, straight and sleek and gorgeous. She could have been a model. And yet Miranda’s less dramatic looks appealed to him more.
Crossing the room, he exchanged nods with several islanders, and noted that Miranda smiled at a couple herself, probably customers of Blowing Bubbles. By later tonight, the gossip mill would be churning and an expanding circle of islanders would know he and Miranda were dating.
When Rachelle had seated them at a window table looking out on the harbor, she said, “Luke, I can’t thank you enough for making that emergency call when Fairley got attacked by that dog. Mom was crazy worried and if she’d had to drive she could’ve crashed the car.”
“No problem. It comes with the job.”
To Miranda, Rachelle said, “Fairley’s my mom’s ferret. And best friend, I think. My dad was out fishing—he supplies the restaurant, by the way—when a crazy dog lit into Fairley.”
“I’m glad Fairley’s okay,” she said. “And I’m looking forward to the seafood. This is a real treat for me. I’ve been wanting to eat here.” She gently touched the sprigs of purple heather in a small pottery vase and then gestured around. “I love the décor. The nautical touches are just right, adding authenticity without making it kitschy.”
Luke agreed, and knew that the fishing nets and old floats, the rusted anchor, and other items were genuine, provided by Rachelle’s dad.
Miranda went on. “I’ve worked in a lot of restaurants over the years, and it takes real talent to hit the right note.”
“Thanks, Miranda. I appreciate that.” She winked. “And I’ll tell the staff to be on their toes, since they’re looking after one of our own. Speaking of which, your server will be along in a sec to see what you’d like to drink, so I’ll let you peruse the cocktail menu and wine list. First drink’s on me, as a thanks to Luke, so make it a special one.”
After she’d gone, he and Miranda both put their phones on the table and exchanged smiles. He only hoped that neither phone vibrated for the next couple of hours.
Miranda picked up her menu and made a humming sound. “Oh, this is nice. Being in a fine restaurant as a customer rather than as waitstaff or busgirl.” She gazed out the window at the harbor view. “It’s so dark at night at SkySong and at Aaron’s place, but here you can see the lights on the boats down on the docks. Like stars that shine even when it’s cloudy out.”
When she pulled her gaze from the view and turned it on him, he saw sparkly stars in her blue eyes, though maybe it was a reflection from the candle on the table.
“Thank you for this, Luke. It makes me feel special.”
“You are special, Miranda.” And so beautiful, with that fancier hairdo and the touch of makeup. Her bare neck and upper chest looked creamy and feminine against the greenish-blue top. The abalone earrings danced and caught the light, calling attention to her delicate ears and long neck. He’d noticed that whatever pair of earrings she wore, the silver heart remained in her left ear.
She glanced down at the menu. “Not so special. I’m just a hardworking single mom who’s made more than her share of mistakes in her life.”
“And haven’t we all done that? We learn from them, we keep trying. That’s what you’re doing. Don’t put yourself down, okay? You’re special. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially yourself.”
Her head was still down and he said, “Miranda?”
When she finally looked up, her eyes were moist and gleaming. “I hear you. Thanks. But please stop talking now, okay?”
Smiling, he ducked his own head and perused the menu. “I’m not much for cocktails or hard liquor. Think I’ll have a craft beer from Blue Moonshine. How about you?”
“I’m a woman,” she announced, some sass back in her voice.
“I kinda noticed that.” He matched her teasing tone and tried to keep his eyes from the scooped neckline of her top, which bared a lot of skin but stopped short of revealing cleavage. “But the significance of it escapes me at the moment.”
“I like girly drinks.” She read the beverage menu, with a lot of, “Oh, listen to this” and “Doesn’t this sound amazing?” comments.
Their server, a middle-aged woman in black pants and shirt, with a neat blond braid, came over to the table. He knew most of the locals, but didn’t recognize her. “I’m Ellen,” she said, “and Rachelle asked me to take special care of you two. What can I bring you to drink? And how about some appetizers to start with? Celia’s lobster ravioli and the crispy crab bites are my personal favorites, especially on a chilly night like this.”
“Tell me more about the C-Shell cocktail,” Miranda requested. “I’ve never heard of guavaberry rum.”
“It’s a special liqueur made on the island of Sint Maarten, from berries that grow there,” Ellen said. “Rachelle has relatives there and she and Celia discovered it on a visit. Now they import it for that cocktail and a couple of dessert specials. The flavor’s kind of fruity, kind of herbal. It goes beautifully with the orange juice, pineapple juice, and cream in that cocktail.”
“Sold. It sounds delicious. Can you give us a minute to think about appies?”
“Of course. Sir?”
He ordered his beer and he and Miranda studied the menus. She put hers down and plunked her elbows on it, leaning forward and saying dramatically, “I want everything!”
Her eager expression and the desire in her voice had him thinking about an entirely different “everything” than what he knew she meant. What would it be like to have Miranda in his bed, making that enthusiastic pronouncement? His body tightened with arousal.
“How can I possibly choose?” she went on.
In bed, he’d take the pins out of her hair, one by one. And then he would slowly, thoroughly, and erotically give her everything. Happily. And then he’d do it all over again. He cleared his throat and suggested, “Want to pick a few things and share?”
“Yes, please.” She sat back, the silky sea-colored top rippling across her breasts. “What about starting with those two appetizers? If a server recommends a dish, it’s because either the kitchen wants to get rid of it or she genuinely loves it. At this place, I’d bet it’s the latter.”
“Where’s the business sense in pushing something that’s maybe subpar?”
“Depends on your clientele. If it’s tourists who’ll eat there once and never come back, why not use up leftovers and stuff like that on them? Though I do think it’s dumb, because some of them go online and leave bad reviews. Most good restaurants don’t do it.” She grinned. “The staff get to take home the crappy leftovers.”
“There’s lots to think about when you run a business.”
“For sure. I’m happy leaving that to someone else and just doing my work and earning my paycheck. Running your own business is too risky for me. Though”—she gave him a smile—“if you’re the only vet on an island, I guess the risk factor is low. As long as those bulls and newts keep on breeding.”
He was laughing as Ellen delivered their drinks. Miranda’s was a frothy, peach-colored concoction in a martini glass. The server carefully poured Luke’s beer into a glass mug and departed with their order for appetizers.
Miranda took a sip and said, “Oh, my. This might even beat chocolate.”
Rachelle dropped by to ask, “How do you like the C-Shell, Miranda?”
“It’s orgasmic.”
Luke almost choked on a swallow of beer and Rachelle gave him an amused glance. “Glad you’re enjoying it.” She winked. “A girl can never have too many orgasms.”
Okay, now he was officially choking and, he guessed, beet red. Not to mention battling an erection.
After Rachelle departed, Miranda turned an impish grin on him and then her expression grew thoughtful. “So if—no, never mind.”
He was almost afraid to find out what she’d started to ask, but he said, “If we’re going to date, I want us to be honest. Miranda, this is maybe rude or insensitive, but here’s the thing. We’re two independent grown-ups, but that’s not all we are. We’re parents. Whatever we do, we have to think how it’ll affect our kids.” Even if his aroused body, so frustrated after years without intimacy, urged him to make sex his priority.
“Yes. Totally.” She swallowed. “I’m not exactly the best influence, given my past.”
“Your past is . . . well, of course it’s relevant, because it’s part of what made you the person you are today. But that’s what’s important to me: who you are now. I need to be able to trust you. And you need to be able to trust me. Right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So I think you should be able to ask me anything. Even if it’s about something that might be painful for me to talk about. To think about. And vice versa. Okay?”
She thought about that and then gave him a half-hearted, “I guess.”
Ellen served the two appetizers and they divided them and tasted them. Luke thought they were delicious, but the best part was Miranda’s obvious enjoyment. He ate quietly, letting her concentrate on the food. But when the appetizers were finished, and they’d ordered the shrimp and sausage jambalaya and the miso-maple glazed sablefish, he said, “You were going to ask me something earlier, after you were raving to Rachelle about your drink.”
“Was I?”
“Yeah. You started, and then said, ‘Never mind.’”
“Oh, that.” Her lashes lowered, darker than usual with a touch of mascara, and he noticed the bluish-green makeup that accented her eyelids.
“Go ahead and ask.”
“It involved Candace. And it was, uh, intrusive. It’s not something I need to know.”
“Ask, and if it is too intrusive, I’ll tell you.” He braced himself.
Toying with the straw in her fancy drink, not looking at him, she muttered something he didn’t catch.
“What?”
She glanced up and whispered, “Sex.”
Thank God he wasn’t drinking beer this time, or he might have spewed it across the table. “What about it?” His erection was painful now.
* * *
Cursing her own curiosity and impulsiveness, Miranda wished she’d never started this. It was too embarrassing and far, far too personal. But now that she had, and that Luke had insisted they be open with each other, she pretty much had to go ahead and ask. “You’ve only been with one woman. And she was only ever with you?”
He nodded.
She knew she was blushing, and there was a flush of pink on Luke’s cheekbones. The man sure did look good tonight. His dark chestnut hair gleamed like satiny wood, making her want to run her fingers through it. The muted sage green shirt and green-and-gold striped tie brought out the green and gold flecks in his amazing eyes. Luke was the kind of handsome that didn’t whack you in the face with an “OMG, he’s hot!” reaction, but grew on you the more you looked at him and spent time with him.
She took a breath and came out with her question. “So how did you, you know, learn? About sex.”
“Uh, the good old-fashioned way, I guess,” he said. “Experimenting. Playing. Figuring out what felt best for each of us.” As he spoke, she could see him relaxing, even smiling as if he enjoyed the memories. “Laughing. With sex, you have to have a sense of humor, right?”
“Uh . . . I haven’t done a whole lot of laughing in bed.” If she wanted to chuckle, she read a humorous book or watched a comedy on TV. “I mean, sex should be, well, arousing and satisfying. I don’t think of it as funny.”
Those colored flecks in his eyes danced as he gave a teasing grin. “Not even when you try some weird position in the Kama Sutra and get all tangled up and fall off the bed?”
Oh my God. If he was trying to get her back for that tease about her drink being orgasmic—which had been another impulse she maybe should have resisted—he’d certainly done it with a vengeance. “The Kama Sutra? Seriously?” Luke? The handsome, responsible dad, the island vet, knew the Kama Sutra? She’d only ever glanced at it herself, finding it too foreign to relate to.
What kind of erotic sex tricks did the man seated across from her know? Sexual awareness hummed through her, centering between her legs, and she tried not to squirm.
“Can you believe, it was a gift from my mother-in-law? She’s very frank.”
“Frank?”
He nodded. “She’s a wonderful, loving person, but, well, the social niceties often escape her. She’s in your face. It takes an effort for her to think about censoring herself before she blurts out whatever she’s thinking. Sometimes it’s amusing, sometimes it’s painful. Often, she’s spot on, insightful, but she can miss subtleties that are obvious to the rest of us.”
“Huh. Candace must have taken after her dad then. She was definitely socially skilled.”
“Yes, and you’re right that her father is, too, though he’s quieter than Candace was. She was just naturally bubbly and sociable.”
Yes, she had been. Personable, beautiful, and pretty much perfect. How could Miranda ever compete with Luke’s memories of Candace?
Fortunately, Ellen’s arrival distracted her from that depressing thought. The server set out a platter of fish and veggies and a covered cast-iron skillet. Earlier, she’d placed empty dinner plates in front of each of them. “Since you’re sharing,” Ellen said, “I’d suggest you start with the sablefish. The flavor’s milder than the jambalaya. The jambalaya will stay warm in the covered pan. Enjoy.”
Taking her advice, Miranda and Luke served themselves portions of miso-maple glazed fish along with the accompanying sautéed sugar snap peas and mashed potatoes. Miranda tasted everything. The fish melted in her mouth, the peas crunched, and the potatoes—“Oh, my, those are the tastiest potatoes I’ve ever eaten.” As best she could tell, the creamy mash combined white potatoes, sweet potatoes, a touch of ginger, and a tang of sour cream or cream cheese.
The food even went well with the final sips of her still-frothy C-Shell cocktail.
Between bites, she returned to the subject that intrigued her. “Your mother-in-law really gave you guys the Kama Sutra?”
“She said that in a long-term relationship that involves fidelity, sex can become routine and it’s important that you not let that happen. So she gave us the book.” He smiled. “At first Candace wouldn’t touch it. She said that if she looked at the pictures, she’d imagine her mom and dad doing that stuff.”
Miranda laughed, spontaneously and loudly, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I take it she got over that?”
“Yeah, we had some fun with that book.”
“And here I thought you might be less experienced than me. You probably know way more than I do.” And didn’t that notion keep her body buzzing? How had she ever thought that Luke wasn’t a particularly sexy man?
He frowned and then said, “Sticking with my honesty thing, I have to admit it bothers me to think of you with a bunch of other guys.”
She swallowed. “Because it makes you think I’m slutty?”
“No. I’m sure it’s more typical of twenty-somethings than the faithful-to-your-first-love thing Candace and I had. It’s more that I hate to think of other men’s hands on you. I don’t like the idea of you caressing other guys, being intimate with them.” He shrugged. “It’s some kind of primitive male reaction, I guess. ‘My woman. Hands off.’”
His woman? She leaned forward. “That makes no sense. You didn’t even know me until a few weeks ago.”
“Did you hear me say ‘primitive male’? It’s instinct. There’s nothing rational about it.” He lifted the lid from the cast-iron skillet of jambalaya, and dished out portions for both of them.
“Well, as long as you admit you’re irrational,” she teased. After all, it was irrational of her, the feminist, to feel pleased by his caveman reaction.
She tasted the rich, spicy mixture of shrimp, sausage, rice, and tomatoes. “Oh my God, that’s even better than the sablefish. And so perfect for a cold winter night.”
“Chef Celia’s a genius,” he affirmed.
Ellen dropped by and asked if everything was to their liking, and they both gave her raves. On her heels, a man approached their table. He looked familiar, so perhaps he’d been in the store once or twice. He was dressed up, for an islander, wearing a nice sports jacket and tie. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, kind of handsome in a distinguished way. His hair was a mix of gray and blond, he wore glasses with tortoiseshell frames, and as he extended his hand, he flashed a big, white-toothed smile.
The smile did it. This was the Destiny Island Realty guy; his photo was on all their signs.
Luke half rose to shake his hand. “Hey, Bart. Good to see you. I noticed you and Cathy having dinner.” He waved in the direction of a window table a little ways away, and Miranda saw a dark-haired woman in a navy dress with a matching jacket. She’d definitely seen her before, working in the credit union as some kind of manager.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” the older man said, “so I figured I’d come say hi and meet your lovely companion.”
“Miranda, this is Bart Jelinek, owner of Destiny Island Realty and an old friend of the family. Bart, this is Miranda Gabriel, Aaron’s sister.”
“Miranda, I’m so glad to meet you.” Jelinek extended his hand.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too.” Unsure whether to call him Bart or Mr. Jelinek, she omitted his name. She put down her fork and took his hand. He gave her a warm, hearty shake.
“A belated welcome to Blue Moon Harbor,” Jelinek said. “I hope you’ll be with us for a long time.”
She gave a polite smile. “We’ll see how things go.” Right now, she just wanted to enjoy this fabulous meal and Luke’s company.
The man returned his attention to Luke. “Cathy and I ran into your mother and Forbes at Destiny Cellars a week or two ago. It was nice to catch up with them. I told them we needed to get together for dinner soon.” He pressed a finger against the bridge of his glasses, like he was pushing them up except they were already in place. “Haven’t seen that stepbrother of yours on the island for a while. He’s making a name for himself, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Julian’s doing great,” Luke said. “His career keeps him busy.”
“It’s always nice to see a Destiny Island boy doing so well.”
“To the extent that Julian’s an island boy. He only lived here for a few years and he’s never seemed that fond of the place.”
“Oh. Well . . .” Jelinek shifted his weight, looking restless. “I’d best get back to Cathy. She’s always saying that when we go out, I spend more time socializing than talking to her. But that’s what it’s like on a small island, isn’t it? I know almost everyone who lives here, and it’s the friendly thing to say hi.”
But not at the expense of leaving your wife alone, Miranda thought. Or interrupting someone else’s meal while their food grew cold.
“We won’t keep you any longer,” Luke said.
Jelinek took a couple of steps away from the table and then turned back. “By the way, don’t know if you heard, but Walter Franklin’s planning on retiring when his term ends. Some folks have been after me to run for his spot. If I did, could I count on your vote, Luke?”
Luke smiled. “I’d think you could count on my whole family’s votes, Bart. You’d make a great trustee.”
The man rubbed his hands together and beamed. “That’s what I like to hear. With support like that, how could I not run?”
As he made his way back toward his wife, shaking hands with other people along the way, Miranda grabbed her fork and took a large bite of jambalaya. After swallowing she said, “He’s going to run for office?”
“It seems, if Walter Franklin does retire. The man holds one of the island’s two trustee positions with the Islands Trust, and he’s had it for a long time. Do you know much about local government?”
“Only that it’s complicated. Some things are federal, some are provincial, there’s the Capital Regional District, too, and then the Islands Trust. And local commissions and committees and so on. But I don’t really know which body is responsible for which stuff.”
“A lot of people don’t. And, oddly, it mostly all works out. Anyhow, the Islands Trust is responsible for preserving the special ecosystems on the Gulf Islands. Land zoning and community planning fall under its jurisdiction. Each Gulf Island elects two trustees for three-year terms.”
She cocked her head. “So the Trust is basically anti-development, or at least it makes sure that development is properly controlled?”
He nodded.
“That’s a wonderful concept.” She frowned. “But Bart Jelinek owns a realty company. Mightn’t he be pushing for development, because that’d bring him more income?”
“He’s not like that. I mean, yeah, of course he wants to make a decent income, but he’s not in favor of big development. He’s a great guy. He’s been president of the Rotary Club forever, and they’ve raised funds for a bunch of community projects. The medical clinic, parks, playgrounds, equipment for the volunteer fire department. And Bart’s the one who spearheaded the efforts to bring the Al-Khouri family here, and help them get settled.”
The Al-Khouris were a family of Syrian refugees who’d been sponsored by the island. Blowing Bubbles had donated a number of items to the cause, from children’s furniture to stuffed animals.
Luke was going on, reciting Jelinek’s virtues. “And he’s coached softball, sponsored the school band, mentored a number of island kids.”
“Wow. He does sound like a terrific guy.” Yet she didn’t find herself liking him much. Maybe it was just one of those weird things that happened now and then, when you inexplicably were drawn to or repelled by someone. Pheromones or whatever. “He’s a friend of your family?”
“Yeah. Dad was in the Rotary as well. When he got sick, Bart was there for us. Mom leaned on him, and his wife, Cathy, as well. After Dad died, Bart tried to help me, invited me to hang out with him sometimes. We’d toss around a softball. He had turned an outbuilding on their property into his ‘man cave’ and we’d watch sports movies and eat popcorn. I appreciate what he was trying to do, but it didn’t sit right. I preferred being with Candace and our friends, or with Viola and the animals. I couldn’t let a man get close to me because it felt like I’d be replacing my dad. Same thing when Mom married Forbes.”
She and Luke had finished their first servings of the entrées, and they went back for seconds. “How does Forbes get along with him?” She could imagine some jostling for position between the two men.
“Okay. They’re kind of opposite people. Bart’s ‘establishment’ and Forbes isn’t. But Forbes respects Mom’s friendship with the Jelineks, and appreciates what Bart does for the community.”
“And Julian? Does he like Jelinek?”
Luke shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Why?”
She mirrored his shrug. “Just curious.” There was no reason to tell Luke that she hadn’t warmed to his friend, and was wondering if she was the only one.
Watching Ellen serve dinner to the elderly couple at the next table, Miranda said, “A bunch of islanders have seen us here. Word’s going to spread that we’re . . . you know.”
“Dating? You can say it. Dinner at C-Shell definitely constitutes dating. Are you okay with that?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have come.” He was handsome and sexy. He was a great father, he did worthwhile work, and he was popular in the community. A woman would be crazy to not want to date him. Why hadn’t she realized that from the beginning? “I wouldn’t have asked Eden’s sister to babysit, thereby notifying Eden and her family, not to mention my brother.”
She put down her fork, knowing she had to stop nibbling in order to leave room for dessert. “It was kind of hard,” she admitted. “I’d told Aaron and the others that I wasn’t going to date. That I was totally focused on Ariana, my job, and my studies.”
“This doesn’t take away from those priorities.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Eden’s family’s been after me to have more of a social life, so they’re happy. Di and Seal think you’re wonderful.”
“The feeling’s mutual. But I notice you didn’t say that Aaron feels the same.”
“Oh, he has only good things to say about you.” Except that he’d expressed doubt whether Luke would ever get over loving Candace. That might be true, but starting to date was at least a step in the direction of moving on. “But you heard him the other night. It’s me he’s skeptical about. It’s taken me forever to even get my GED, and he doesn’t want me to lose focus.”
Looking concerned, Luke asked, “Are you in danger of doing that? I don’t want to get in the way of you pursuing your career.”
She pressed her lips together, giving his question serious consideration. “I feel focused. It’s the first time in my life that it’s actually felt achievable, me getting a great job with a reliable paycheck.” Toying with an abalone earring—a Christmas gift from Eden’s sister—she said, “It does hurt my pride that I’ve only gotten here by letting people help me. I do what I can to pay them back, but it doesn’t even out.”
“I bet they’re not keeping score.”
“No, I’m sure they’re not,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t.”
“People like to help. It makes them feel good.”
She studied him, this man who on the surface seemed to have it all together, but who’d admitted to accepting lots of help: from Candace, from the old vet, from his family. “It truly doesn’t bother you, having to accept help from others?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and then Ellen was there to clear their empty plates. “Room for dessert?” She held up two menus.
“Do I look crazy?” Miranda asked.
Ellen laughed and put the menus down.
After she’d gone, Luke said, “No, it doesn’t bother me. I think maybe it’s because of my dad. He was a strong guy. A healer. I looked up to him and we were close. Closer than Mom and I were, in some ways. We did stuff together, hiking and boating, things Mom wasn’t into. Anyhow, then he got sick.” The flecks in his eyes were subdued now, gray clouds supressing the sunshiny sparkles.
“He needed help,” he said. “From doctors and other caregivers, Mom and me, other family members, friends like Bart. But that didn’t make him any less a strong person. He taught me that it’s a strength to be able to know when you need help and to ask for and accept it.” He gave a wry smile. “You’re frowning. You don’t agree, right?”
“No, I . . . I don’t know. I’d never thought of it that way. But it kind of makes sense.”
“You’d have liked Dad. He’d have liked you.”
“Seriously? Why would he have liked me?”
“Because your heart’s in the right place and you’re interesting.” He leaned across the table. “Want to hear a secret?”
“Always.” Intrigued, she leaned forward, too.
“Bart Jelinek?” he murmured. “He and my father were good friends because they shared lots of activities and a vision of what was right for Destiny, but Dad confessed to me that he got tired of all that heartiness. He said Bart didn’t have much depth.”
She grinned. “I do think I’d have liked your dad. But really, you think I have depth?”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Says the rosebud with thorns.”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“It’s kind of like saying you’re an onion, but more flattering.”
“An onion?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Layers? Lots and lots of layers, like a rosebud. And peeling them makes a person cry, as does pricking yourself on a rose’s thorns.”
“You’re saying I make people cry? Luke, I—”
“Not intentionally. Just that you’re complicated and you’re prickly. You’ve had some crappy things happen to you. You’ve got strong views about being independent. And you’ve got a ton of defenses.”
She wrinkled her nose, considering what he’d said. “I guess I can’t argue with any of that. Which leads me to wonder why on earth you’d want to spend time with me.”