Fly Away with Me by Susan Fox (3)

Chapter Three

Eden had to laugh. “Seriously? Your destiny awaits you on Destiny Island? Can you be any cheesier?” Still, she had to admit Aaron was charming as well as hot, and there was something incredibly tempting about the fun he was offering. He was right that she was stressed out from all that had happened this past year. Not to mention she was almost thirty and it was going on five years since she’d dated, much less had sex with any man other than Ray. Five years!

Her twenty-one-year-old sister Kelsey would say, “Go for it, girl!” Kelsey was the free-spirited, spontaneous one. Responsibility slid off her shoulders like water off a duck’s back. When Eden had told her about the breakup, she’d recommended a rebound fling.

Was there, for once, some merit to Kelsey’s advice? Eden weighed the pros and cons of spending time, maybe time that would lead to sex, with Aaron Gabriel. Pro: He was hot, very hot! Pro—and a major one she really should put first: He could help her meet islanders who might have known Lucy. Pro: As best she could tell, he seemed genuine about wanting to help her find her aunt and about respecting her boundaries. Pro: There should be no negative consequences for either of them.

Con: A fling wasn’t Eden’s style. She was a serious woman with serious goals, and when it came to relationships, the ultimate goal was a loving marriage, a home, and a family.

Counterargument to the con: She didn’t have time for that kind of relationship, not until her mom’s physical and emotional health had improved a lot. Aaron wouldn’t make demands on her time or her emotional energy, not after this one week was finished.

Query: Was there any harm in, for one short week, acting out of character and having a meaningless flirtation, maybe leading to sex, with a hot man who seemed like a decent guy?

“There’s a lot of serious thinking going on over there,” Aaron said.

“That’s me. Serious thinker. I need to analyze situations before I make decisions. It’s the only sensible way.”

“Because being sensible’s so much fun,” he said dryly.

“Life’s about more than just fun.”

“Yeah, but it’s also about fun. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

She firmed her jaw and stared at him. “Being a good person. Looking after the people you love and helping others who aren’t as fortunate as you.”

“You’re pretty sexy when you get all earnest like that.”

She puffed out air in exasperation. About to shoot off a snippy retort, she stopped herself. So he wasn’t the same kind of person she was. It wasn’t a sin to prefer fun to living a more responsible life. She wasn’t going to go all self-righteous on him. After all, it wasn’t as if she were considering the man as a potential boyfriend.

Flirtation wasn’t a skill of hers, but she gave it a try. “Okay, being totally earnest here, and therefore sexy, you might be interested to hear the result of all that analysis.”

“I just might.”

“I’m opting in. I’m grateful for your offer of assistance and I accept. I’m also open to the concept of fun and seeing where that may lead us.”

He took his right hand off the steering yoke, rested it on her hand where it lay on her thigh, and squeezed gently. “Good places. It’ll lead us to good places, Eden. I promise you that.”

From the tingly warmth that spread up her arm, she figured he’d live up to that promise.

He lifted his hand to point out the windshield, to a rocky shore fringed with tall evergreens. “There’s your first view of Destiny. I’ll fly over and point out the landmarks. Blue Moon Harbor’s on the south side.”

“The island looks pretty rugged.”

“The Pacific Northwest is like that. Nature has a rawness, which the indigenous people who lived here respected. What we think of as civilization is a fairly new thing. Destiny was first settled around 1860.”

“By Europeans?”

“Mostly, but there were also Chinese, Japanese, freed slaves from the States, people from just about every country you can name. Destiny has a colorful history. I’ll tell you about it if you’re interested, but right now let me show you the lay of the land.”

“Okay.”

“The island’s shaped roughly like an hourglass, with the north part a bit smaller than the south. The north end is more rocky and mountainous and less inhabited. That bay to the west—the right—with the grouping of three dozen or so houses, is Sunset Cove. Yes, it does get lovely sunsets. The pub’s a great place for dinner. We’ll go there one night.”

“That sounds nice.” After all, she had to eat. She couldn’t spend every minute on her quest to find her aunt. Surprised by how sparsely settled this part of the island was, she asked, “What’s the population of Destiny Island?”

“Around fifteen hundred.”

“That’s tiny.”

“That’s permanent residents, with maybe three hundred in the north part of the hourglass and the rest in the south. Lots of other people, mostly from Victoria and Vancouver, have cabins or houses they use for holidays. And we get a lot of tourists, especially in summer.”

Intrigued by the scenery unfolding below them, she said, “It’s lovely.”

“Best place on earth.” He flashed a grin. “But I guess most of us think that when it comes to the place we live.”

“Yes. Ottawa is, for me. I grew up there and it’s home, I love my job, but mostly it’s where my parents are.” Her heart would always lie with her parents.

Aaron pointed out a lake with cabins beside it and boats scattered across it, a couple of campgrounds, and a beachfront summer camp run by a church. The farther south they flew, the more development she saw. Now he was indicating the schools, a medical clinic, and a community center. “And that’s Blue Moon Harbor—the village and the bay,” he told her.

The bay was like a teardrop-shaped bag with a drawstring neck, but the string hadn’t been pulled tight. She guessed the narrow neck reduced ocean swells to provide a calm harbor. Houses and a few apartment and town-house buildings were scattered among trees along the sides of the bay, stacked on two levels: one down close to the ocean and another above, clinging to the rocky hillside. At the head of the bay was the village, not much more than four blocks long and two blocks deep. Here there were no office towers; the tallest buildings were two stories. A green space indicated a park, with a parking lot beside it.

Below the village, docks were lined with boats, and more boats were anchored out in the harbor. On the west side of the bay was another web of wharves with boats—a marina, she guessed. On the other side was a huge dock with a parking lot that would hold thirty or more cars. “What’s that big dock?”

“It’s for the ferries. They run among the Gulf Islands, as well as over to Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island.”

“Not to Vancouver?”

“No. You have to take the island ferry to Swartz Bay, then the big one to Vancouver. Or, of course, fly.”

“If you live on an island, you can only get on and off by boat or plane.” She gave a snort. “Duh, that’s so obvious. It’s just not something I’d really thought about. Don’t you start feeling claustrophobic?”

“Not if you can fly a plane.”

“Good point.”

He flew over the harbor out toward the neck of the bay and spoke into his headphone, announcing their arrival to someone he called Kam. Eden recognized the name; that was the obliging man she’d spoken to earlier on the phone.

The plane banked in a graceful turn and came back, dropping altitude as it soared down a clear stretch of water between a variety of pleasure craft, some anchored and some in motion.

“I was nervous at first,” she said, “but this is cool. Does it ever wear thin, like driving a bus over the same route every day?”

The plane’s floats caressed the water like lips touching lightly and then sinking deeper into a familiar kiss.

“Nope. For one thing, it’s never the same. The routes change depending on passengers’ needs, and the weather’s always a bit different. And the more experienced a pilot gets, the better he knows his plane, the whole thing kind of goes to a different level. Deeper.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “That Zen kind of thing.”

His comment reminded her of something she’d overheard when she was a teen. Her mom had been talking to a friend who’d gotten engaged. The other woman had said she worried that, after years with one guy, their sex life would go stale. Eden’s mom had said that if the couple really loved each other and was doing things right, making love went to a whole different level of intimacy. For the most part, Eden had been horrified to have heard that. Yet she was sensible enough to know that of course her parents had sex, and she was happy it was still meaningful for both of them.

She’d hoped for that with Ray. The sex had always been good but never amazing, and she’d hoped that once they married they’d find that deeper level of intimacy.

“You sighed,” Aaron said as they approached a dock and she saw the Blue Moon Air logo on a small wooden building above it, up a ramp. “Sorry the flight’s over or worrying about whether you’ll find your aunt?”

Lying went against her moral code. “I was thinking about my breakup. I know we weren’t right for each other, but every now and then I feel a moment of regret.”

“Regrets are a waste of time. You gotta leave the past behind you and move on.”

“You can learn from the past. But yes, I agree about moving on. I’m doing that, Aaron.” A sense of optimism and a thrill of excitement made her smile. “And you’re going to help me.”

He returned the smile and then concentrated on jockeying the plane up to the dock behind an even smaller plane painted with the airline’s colors and logo. Waiting to assist was a slender young man with black hair and light brown skin, wearing the same blue, logoed T-shirt as Aaron. When a float nudged the dock, Aaron jumped out and the two men secured the ropes. Aaron then pulled down the ladder, said, “I’ll see you up in the office, Kam,” and extended a hand to help Eden out.

The dock certainly wasn’t solid land. It moved gently and it took her a moment to find her balance. Boats of all sizes lined the surrounding wharves, two of the larger ships looking like commercial fish boats. Up above, the village was picturesque, the jumble of architectural styles and paint colors creating an intriguing tapestry.

Aaron had her wheelie bag in one hand and her briefcase in the other. “Where are you staying?”

“The Once in a Blue Moon B and B.” Her dad had booked it for her. “They’re supposed to be within walking distance.”

“That’s it on the hill.” He nodded toward a big, old-fashioned house just past the west end of the village. “You’ll like it.”

“It’s charming.” She was no expert on architecture, but the three-story building struck her as kind of Victorian, with lots of interesting details like shutters and trim. Funky Victorian, though, with its paint in multiple shades of blue: a soothing grayish tone for the walls, indigo for the front door, robin’s egg blue for the shutters, and a purplish-blue for the trim. She’d never have put those shades together herself, but the result was perfect.

“I’ll help you get your luggage over there and you can get settled in. Maybe have a nap. I’ve got a flight to Victoria in the Cessna 180—that’s the smaller plane—and then I’m done for the day. How about I pick you up just before seven? We’ll have dinner, you can tell me whatever you know about your aunt, and we’ll work out a strategy.”

“Sounds good.” Much better, in terms of fun as well as productivity, than an evening alone in her room with her laptop computer.

She followed him along the dock, so used to toting her briefcase as well as her purse that she felt unbalanced not having its weight on her left shoulder. Not that she was about to protest. Nor did she complain when Aaron mounted the skid-stripped ramp ahead of her. No woman would complain about following a world-class butt and a pair of long, lean, denim-clad legs.

He poked his head through the open door of the Blue Moon Air office, a small building made of weathered wood with bright blue trim. “Kam, I’m taking Ms. Blaine over to the Once. Back in ten for my next flight.”

It seemed an informal way of checking in, but obviously, things were done differently on Destiny Island.

Aaron led her at a brisk pace down the main street of town, which a carved and painted wooden sign told her was Driftwood Road. It was lined with restaurants and an eclectic and intriguing array of stores, everything from a marine supply shop to one selling fancy soaps and lotions. A bookstore called Dreamspinner, a clothing shop, and several arts and crafts stores drew her eye, and she hoped she might have some free time to explore them.

When they arrived at the Once in a Blue Moon, which looked as appealing close-up as it had from a distance, Aaron avoided the wheelchair ramp and hefted her bags up the ten or so front steps. He wasn’t the slightest bit winded when he reached the top, though Eden had trouble keeping up. “I’ll leave you now,” he said. “Give me your cell number and I’ll give you mine.”

Though she hadn’t known him long, she’d noted that he had a habit of making statements and issuing orders rather than offering suggestions. Still, what he said made sense, so she didn’t protest. After they’d exchanged numbers, she said, “Thanks. See you just before seven.”

“Don’t forget that nap.” He winked. “You want to be rested up for when the fun starts.”

Honestly, the man was incorrigible. How strange that, rather than being annoyed by it, she was amused and, let’s face it, kind of turned on.

Inside the reception area, the air smelled of lemon and the furniture was either genuinely old or artificially distressed, but the blue-striped upholstery was fresh and the wood gleamed. There was no one behind the writing desk that was signed “Reception,” but a brass bell sat alongside a computer, so she rang it.

A few seconds later, a slight woman with short, spiky salt-and-pepper hair bustled out from a back room. She wore a pretty red top and denim capris and was smiling warmly. “Hello there. How can I help you?”

“I’m Eden Blaine and I have a reservation.”

“Welcome, Eden. I’m Bernie Barnes.” The woman held out her hand. “My husband Jonathan and I own the Once in a Blue Moon.”

Eden exchanged a firm handshake with her.

Bernie seated herself behind the desk and tapped energetically at the computer. Dangly earrings made up of wire and colored stones tinkled like miniature wind chimes. “A single room and you’re with us for six nights, correct?”

“Exactly.” Eden unzipped her purse. “You’ll want my credit card.”

“No need. I’ll show you to your room and you can get comfy.”

Bernie came around from behind the desk, took the handle of Eden’s wheelie, and pulled it across to an elevator. “You’re on the top floor, with a lovely view of the harbor. Your timing was perfect, you know. Normally, we’re full up from the May twenty-fourth weekend through Labor Day weekend, but we’d just had a cancellation when you checked online.”

Eden sent a mental thank-you in her dad’s direction. Not only had he found her a charming place to stay but he’d done it at the height of tourist season. She hoped the B and B would also prove to be a good place to start her hunt for her aunt. Bernie looked to be in her fifties. Was it possible she might have known Lucy? As they rode up to the third floor, Eden asked, “Have you lived on Destiny Island long?”

“Roughly ten years. Jonathan and I were in Vancouver, him working as an accountant and me doing human resources at a hotel. We holidayed here two or three times and fell in love with the island and the lifestyle. We sold our house, pillaged our savings, and opened the B and B.”

“That was brave of you.” Eden couldn’t imagine uprooting her life and taking such a risk.

Bernie gave a mischievous grin. “Ah well, when destiny calls, what can you do?” She led Eden down a narrow hall lightened by pale yellow paint and decorated with paintings and photographs, discreet labels indicating they were for sale. After unlocking a door with an old-fashioned key, she ushered Eden inside.

“It’s lovely.” The room was furnished with a four-poster bed with a canopy, a distressed-wood desk and a tall cabinet, and a comfy chair by the window. A vase full of mixed-color dahlias sat on the desk. Beside the window, a paned-glass door led to a small balcony with a couple of chairs and a tiny round table. Unable to resist, Eden went out and leaned on the wooden railing, gazing over the village and harbor. The tiny Blue Moon Air Cessna was leaving the dock as a larger white-and-red seaplane approached.

Bernie joined her. “From here, I feel like a bird perched in a tree, surveying my domain. It’s a lovely place to while away time with a pair of binoculars, a good book, or a glass of wine. By the way, there’s a wonderful winery, Destiny Cellars. They do tours and wine tastings.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll be very comfortable.” Eden hadn’t come here to while away time, so she went back inside, and the proprietor followed. “Bernie, you’ve been here long enough to know a number of islanders and a bit of the island’s history. I wonder if you have twenty or so minutes to spare? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“If it’s tourist recommendations, there’s a set of brochures in the desk drawer. They’re quite thorough.”

“No, it’s something a bit more complicated than that.”

“I’m so sorry, Eden, but I only have a few minutes right now. How about tomorrow morning, after breakfast?”

“Sure. I’d appreciate it.” By then, Aaron would have given her some ideas as well, so her conversation with Bernie might be even more productive.

Her hostess quickly showed her the other amenities: bathroom, closet, TV inside the cabinet. “The Wi-Fi password is once, all lower case. If there’s anything else you need, call us or ring at the front desk. Oh, will you want a rental car?”

“I’ve booked one to pick up tomorrow. I think I’m all set. Thanks again.”

After Bernie left, Eden snapped photos of her room and a selfie out on the balcony. She emailed her family to let them know she’d arrived safely, show them the place, and tell them she had met a couple of contacts who might help with her search for Lucy. She also sent an email to herself at the Butterworth Foundation, attaching files she’d worked on during the day.

Using the security app on her laptop, she signed into her work account and saved the files using the Foundation’s document management system. She popped off an email to update her assistant, Navdeep Grewal. She also reminded him of what documents he needed to take to the Monday afternoon meeting with a prospective applicant for funding. Though she hated to miss that meeting, Navdeep had accompanied her to similar ones and ought to be able to provide the applicant with the information they needed and ask the right questions of them. When he sent her a report, she could advise him on how to proceed.

A few years ago, she’d have had a bunch of personal texts and emails to answer, and she’d have used social media to update her friends and check on them. But since she’d graduated from law school, she’d been so busy establishing herself at work and getting involved with Ray that she’d cut back on girlfriend time. Then, when her mom got sick, Eden had abandoned any attempt to have a social life. She stifled a pang of regret, reminding herself that her priorities were valid.

Unloading her tightly packed carry-on, she fought back a yawn. Though she had more than an hour and a half before Aaron would pick her up, she wasn’t going to waste the time by napping. She’d see if the tourist brochures provided any information to help in her quest.

A bottle of water sat on the desk and she poured herself a tall glassful. She’d been up before dawn and it had been a long day of travel. Her body was on Ottawa time, which meant it was past eight o’clock rather than past five. She took the water, the tourist information, and a snack bar from her purse, and settled on the decadent bed, propped up with two pillows.

She munched, drank, perused brochures, and yawned. The island newspaper, the Destiny Gazette, was enlightening. The news and announcements told her, as if she didn’t already know, that she was a long way from Ottawa. Here, people were interested in kids winning 4-H prizes, in artisan craft fairs, and in whether the chamber of commerce would approve the addition of a second traffic light. The pace of life was certainly slower. Maybe that was why she was yawning so much.

Her brain felt so groggy she had trouble concentrating. Perhaps she did need a catnap to recharge her batteries. She set the alarm on her cell for an hour and pulled one of the pillows from behind her head. This was a wonderfully comfortable bed. Too comfortable. It almost tempted her to call Aaron to cancel tonight and settle in for a long, deep sleep. In the past year, she’d rarely slept more than five or six hours a night, staying up late to catch up on work after taking time off during the day to help her mom and dad.

A familiar guilt niggled at her. She’d come to this island for one reason, and it wasn’t to while away time, as Bernie put it, with a seaplane pilot.

But Aaron had offered to help her. Surely she could carry out a thorough investigation and also enjoy spending time with a man who was, objectively speaking, one of the most attractive she’d ever met. A man who had offered her fun without commitment or pressure. On the verge of sleep, she remembered Bernie joking about not being able to refuse the call of destiny.

* * *

Aaron wasn’t exactly hot and sweaty after a day of flying, but all the same he used the bathroom at the Blue Moon Air office to shower after his last flight. He kept a change of clothes there, so he slipped on fresh jeans and a black Henley, rolling the sleeves up his forearms and knowing he’d roll them down later. Though the early June days were mostly warm, the temperature dropped in the evenings.

He walked the few blocks to the Once, as locals called it. Bernie Barnes, seated at the reception desk clicking a computer keyboard, looked up with a welcoming smile. “Hi, Aaron. What brings you here?”

“Hey, Bernie. I’m picking up one of your guests, taking her to dinner. Eden Blaine.”

“Ah. I should have known.”

“Because . . . ?”

“She arrived without a car, which suggests you flew her in. She’s young and pretty, which means you hit on her.”

It hadn’t happened exactly like that, but close enough that he said, “Busted.”

She shook her head, the spikes of her gray-flecked hair flicking. Sounding amused and a touch exasperated, she said, “Will you ever grow up?”

The jibe hurt a little; after all, he was a twenty-eight-year-old man who owned his own business. But he knew that wasn’t what she was referring to, so he brushed it off. “If someone ever convinces me there’s a good reason to. So far, no one has. Besides”—he winked—“name me a woman who doesn’t find Peter Pan irresistible.”

Bernie gave a snort of laughter, and at that moment Eden stepped out of the elevator looking classy and beautiful in tan-colored pants and a sleeveless black top with an abstract design in shades of tan. Her big purse hung over her shoulder and she carried a black sweater. She’d freed her hair from the confining ponytail and loose waves framed her face and caressed her shoulders. Aaron felt a compulsion to smooth those glossy strands back from her face and kiss the pulse point on her neck.

Bernie wished them a good time and Aaron ushered Eden out of the B and B. As they walked down the steps, he said, “Nice room?”

“Very. And yes, I did have a nap and a shower and I feel much more rested.”

Had she showered for him or only to wash away a day of travel? “Good. Now, what do you feel like for dinner? Blue Moon Harbor is a small town, but we have some good restaurants.”

“Seafood? Being by the ocean, it seems appropriate.”

“Italian seafood, Cajun blackened fish, fish and chips, sushi, or the best grilled fish and prawns you’ve ever tasted?”

“Wow. Who could resist the best?”

“C-Shell, then. It’s near Blue Moon Air. Nice view of the harbor.”

They meandered along Driftwood Road with Eden gazing into the windows of the now-closed shops and making comments. The handful of restaurants and bars were doing a lively business. So was Dreamspinner, the bookstore and coffee shop. Many of the people strolling the sidewalk were tourists, but now and then Aaron exchanged greetings with another islander. Colm, a young local man, stood in the doorway of Blowing Bubbles, the children’s store, playing Celtic music on his fiddle. Aaron added a two dollar coin to the substantial collection of coins and bills in the fiddle case and Eden did the same.

Inside the entrance of C-Shell, several people sat on benches waiting for tables. Rachelle, co-owner of the restaurant and a high school classmate of Aaron’s, looked up from telling a pair of tourists that there’d be a fifteen-minute wait, and grinned at him. “Hey, Aaron.” Her brown-eyed gaze skimmed Eden and she said, “Reservation for two, right? Your table’s being cleared. You can come in with me now.”

“Appreciate it,” Aaron said with a wink.

Rachelle led the way, tall and trim in flowing black pants and a black halter top that showed off her beautiful dark brown skin. Her long black hair was, as usual, braided intricately, with colorful beads interwoven.

He liked the restaurant’s décor. Lots of wood, candles in pottery holders made by one of the locals, small flowering plants on each table rather than cut flowers. A few nautical touches like coiled ropes, fishing nets, old glass floats, and a rusted anchor. Local art on the walls.

Eden glanced back at him and murmured, “You made a reservation? You knew which restaurant I’d choose?”

He stepped closer, taking the excuse to rest his hand on her lower back. She gave a slight start but didn’t protest, and he enjoyed the warmth and motion of her body as they kept walking.

“Nope. Rachelle’s being nice to me. Locals get priority over tourists, right, Rachelle?” he said as the hostess seated them across from each other at a window table for four.

“Locals are repeat business,” Rachelle said. Turning to Eden, she added, “Besides, Aaron and I were both rebels back in high school. We black sheep gotta stick together.” She handed them menus. “Jonah will be by to take your drink order.”

Eden thanked her and then, when she’d gone, said, “You two went to school together? Is Rachelle a native Destiny Islander?”

“Rachelle’s family goes way back. Her great-great-great-whatever-grandparents on her dad’s side were American freed slaves who came up to Victoria via San Francisco, and then they came over to Destiny. There are descendants of those original black settlers scattered all through the islands. Her mom was born here, too, but that side of the family doesn’t go back as far.”

“So her parents might—” she started.

“Be useful people for you to talk to. After dinner, when the place has quieted down, we can ask her.”

Jonah, nineteen or twenty, skinny in his black shirt and pants, came over. After he and Aaron exchanged the usual, “Hey, how’s it going?” greetings, Jonah asked if they’d like a drink.

“I’m fine for the moment,” Eden said, and Aaron agreed.

“You know him, too,” Eden noted after the waiter had gone.

“He’s Rachelle’s cousin. He works for the restaurant during the summer to help pay for attending university in Victoria. By the way, Rachelle and her wife Celia own this place.”

“C-Shell. Now I understand the unusual spelling.”

“Celia’s the chef. Not an islander. They met when Rachelle was at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver and Celia was doing culinary training.”

“Are family-run businesses the norm here?”

“Pretty much. It’s a small island, small population. It’s also, from the beginning, been a place that attracted free-spirited people and entrepreneurs. Ones who do better going their own way rather than toeing some corporate line.”

“Unlike Ottawa, where most people work for the government or for some organization, corporate or nonprofit. It’s such a huge responsibility and risk, running your own business.”

Yeah, especially when you employed other people, owned seaplanes, had to deal with insurance issues, and on and on. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Yeah, but you’re working for yourself, so that makes it worthwhile.”

“Hmm.” Her tone said she wasn’t convinced. She opened her menu. “Let’s decide what to order, then we can strategize about how to find my aunt.”

Getting this woman to have fun was going to be a challenge, but intuition told him the result would be worth it. She sure was pretty, with candlelight warming her cheeks and the pale skin of her arms and casting highlights in her walnut hair. “Not even going to spare a moment to appreciate this great table Rachelle gave us and admire the view?”

“Oh.” Eden glanced around. “Sorry. I can be pretty single-minded.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

She gave an amused huff. “Point taken. Yes, it’s a wonderful table and the harbor looks spectacular with all the lights on the boats twinkling. As for the restaurant, I like the simple décor and how there are oceany accents, but they aren’t overdone and kitschy.”

“The nautical things are real, not the gimmicky stuff manufactured for the tourist trade. Rachelle’s dad is a commercial fisher and he supplied them. He also provides the fresh seafood.”

They studied the menu and Eden said she was torn between cedar-planked sockeye salmon and skewers of prawns and veggies.

“Let’s order both and split them.”

“Sounds great.” She closed her menu.

“White wine?” he asked. “Or do you prefer red?”

That scrunchy knot appeared in her forehead, the one he’d learned meant she was worrying or overanalyzing. “I probably shouldn’t drink, not if I want to concentrate.”

“A glass of wine’s going to throw off your concentration that much?”

“Well . . .”

“It’ll help with part two of tonight’s agenda.”

Warily, she asked, “What exactly is part two?”

“Forgotten already? Having fun. Good food, great view, terrific company”—he winked—“so why not a little wine as well?”

Her lips curved slowly. “Why not?” But then the frown returned. “Wait a minute. Pilots aren’t supposed to drink, are they?”

“We can’t fly when we’re under the influence, or have a drink within eight hours of flying. If I’m flying in the morning, I’m safe with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer with dinner.”

“If you’re sure . . .” she said doubtfully.

“Believe me, I am.” No way would he endanger his passengers, much less risk losing his license and his business.

“Well, okay.” She opened the bar menu and glanced at the wine list. “Bernie mentioned Destiny Cellars. Are their wines good?”

“They are.”

“I’ll try the pinot gris.”

Aaron caught Jonah’s eye, and he came over to take the order.

A few minutes later, he returned with their wine. He also brought warm, fresh-baked bread: a small loaf on a wooden board, together with a bread knife, a bowl of oil and balsamic vinegar, and another bowl of herbed butter.

After Aaron and Eden had each spread butter on a slice of bread, she opened her large purse and pulled out a laptop computer.

“Wait,” he said. “Before we start planning, I need to hear the story. The whole story, not the bare bones you gave me before.”

“That makes sense. Okay.” She put the laptop aside, took a sip of wine, and gave an approving smile. “Until a week ago, I never knew my mother had a sister. Lucy was older than Mom by five years. My grandparents were conservative, straitlaced, and strict. They set rules for their kids. Mom obeyed and Lucy didn’t. Lucy challenged, rebelled, fought back.”

“I’m liking Lucy.”

Eden rolled her eyes. “This was the mid- to late sixties. Hippie days, and Lucy was into that whole scene. A scene that Nana and Grandpa, who were quite religious, thought was sinful. Mom says she and Lucy’d been close when they were younger, but they grew apart, and she didn’t understand what was going on with Lucy.”

“It’s pretty normal for teenagers to rebel.”

“I never did. But sure, some do. Kids need to figure out who they are, as compared to who their parents want them to be. In my case, I realized I’m a lot like my parents. My baby sister is less so. She’s spontaneous rather than being a planner. But she’s still a decent person. Not someone who’d hurt her parents like Lucy did Nana and Grandpa.”

“Maybe they hurt her by not trying to understand her. By imposing rules that made no sense to her.” No, wait. Just because his and Miranda’s grandparents had been crappy to them, that didn’t give him the right to judge Eden’s. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Looking thoughtful, she finished chewing her bread. “My dad’s parents died before I was born, then Grandpa passed away when I was five. My family spent a lot of time with Nana. She was set in her ways. Demanding and . . . well, she could be judgmental. Kelsey—my sister—and I used to say Nana must never have been a kid. She sure didn’t seem to remember what it was like.” Her forehead scrunched. “But all the same, we always knew she loved us and wanted what was best for us. And when we did win a word of praise, it meant a lot.”

To him, the woman sounded manipulative. “She’s dead now?”

“Last year. And that’s what started all this. Well, that and Mom’s cancer. Mom had a really awful year.” She took a breath, as if she was bracing herself.

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard for you, too.”

She nodded. “First, Nana died from a stroke, unexpectedly, and that was really rough on Mom. And then Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Dad and I handled the practical details surrounding Nana’s death, like selling her house and most of her furniture, and probating her will. Mom inherited everything, so at least that was straightforward. But she was in no shape—after a double mastectomy, and then starting chemo—to think about what she wanted to do with Nana’s belongings. Dad and I shoved everything into boxes and put them in the attic.”

As she’d been talking, she’d sipped wine, and now her glass was almost empty. Aaron signaled Jonah to bring another as Eden went on.

“Recently, Mom finished with radiation and had enough strength to start going through those boxes. Last week she found a letter. It was addressed to Nana and Grandpa, from Lucy.”

She shook her head. “No, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. I didn’t finish telling you what happened when Lucy was seventeen, in twelfth grade. The push and pull between her and her parents got worse. They fought all the time. One night, Mom heard Lucy screaming that she hated them. They said she was grounded. Lucy said they couldn’t lock her in the house. They said if she went out, she shouldn’t come back because she no longer had a home with them.”

He groaned. “I don’t know much about parenting but that doesn’t sound smart.”

“No. They locked her in her room, not knowing she had an escape route out her window and down a huge old maple tree. The next day, when they unlocked the door, she was gone.”

“What did they do?”

“They figured it was just Lucy being Lucy and she’d be back in a couple of days. All she’d taken was her school backpack, a few clothes, and a couple of treasured possessions. But she never came back. And they didn’t call the police.”

“Oh man. Never? I mean, not even after weeks?”

“No. Mom’s positive about that. They stopped talking about her. After a few months, they converted her room into a sewing room for Nana, and threw out everything Lucy had owned, even every picture that had her in it.”

He whistled. “That’s harsh.” Maybe his grandparents weren’t so awful after all. They’d been planning to retire to Florida when their estranged daughter, Corinne, OD’ed, and they were pissed off at having to delay their move. But they’d done it and taken in their grandkids, something they’d never been willing to do before, not when Corinne was alive and social services had put Aaron and Miranda in foster care for weeks, even months at a time. Anyhow, for whatever reason, this time they’d stepped up to the plate and provided a home, even if they made it clear they hated having to do it. They’d told Aaron and Miranda that they’d better learn useful skills in high school because they’d be on their own after that.

“It was harsh,” Eden agreed. “I was stunned. I didn’t think Nana could be so unforgiving. Mom managed to hide away a few mementos, photos of her and Lucy. But if she ever mentioned Lucy, her parents shut her down, saying they had no daughter by that name.”

Jonah slipped the second glass of wine in front of her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Your mom let it go?” Aaron asked.

“They didn’t give her a choice. She was twelve; what could she do? She did ask Lucy’s friends if they knew anything, and they said no, just that she’d been madly in love with some new guy. Some secret, hippie boyfriend named Barry none of them had met. Later, once there was the Internet, Mom and Dad both hunted for Lucy. Dad has mad computer skills. They’d try every now and then but never found anything. Mom said that thinking about her missing sister hurt, so she mostly avoided doing it. That’s why she never told Kelsey and me about Lucy.”

Jonah brought their meals, steaming hot and smelling so good that Aaron’s stomach growled. “Okay if I split this?” he asked Eden. At her nod, he proceeded to do an even split, though she protested that she’d never be able to eat that much.

She tasted both dishes, pronounced them delicious, and for a few minutes they savored their meals in silence. Then she said, “Okay, to get back to the letter Mom found. Lucy sent her parents a letter in the fall of 1969, a few months after she ran away. She said she was on Destiny Island with her boyfriend and they’d joined a commune.”

“Bet that went over well.”

“Mom said, looking back, that must have been when Nana and Grandpa said they no longer had a daughter named Lucy.”

At least Aaron’s mom’s parents hadn’t been that harsh. They’d accepted responsibility for their grandkids because there was no one else to do it. There’d never been another set of grandparents, not for him or his sister. His own father—a guy from the Musqueam First Nation his mom had been crazy about—had disappeared when she got pregnant. By the time she’d gotten pregnant with Miranda, she’d been turning tricks to pay for drug money and hadn’t had a clue which man had knocked her up.

Aaron and Eden had both been eating in silence for a few minutes. He drew his mind back to her story. “So that letter gave your mom the first clue.”

“Yes, and she has an urgent desire to find her sister. Cancer’s had a huge impact on Mom.” She swallowed and firmed her jaw. “She’s fighting the disease, and we keep telling her she’ll beat it and she needs to remain positive. But it’s thrown her. Badly.”

Moisture sheened her amber eyes and Aaron reached across the table to touch her hand. “I’m sorry.” His own mom had been pretty much broken from way before he’d been old enough to realize his childhood wasn’t a normal one.

“She was always so strong, physically and mentally. She’s a high school teacher, she coaches the debate team, and she’s made a difference in so many kids’ lives. To see her so shaken, so fragile and vulnerable—” She broke off and a tear slipped down her cheek. “So afraid,” she whispered.

“Aw, Eden.” He knew she must be scared, too. Helpless, he watched as she used her free hand to swipe away the tear.

She sniffed. “She’ll heal and regain her strength and confidence. I’m sure of it. And finding Lucy will help immeasurably.”

Aaron vowed to himself that he’d do everything in his power to locate the missing aunt. And he wouldn’t mention the possibility—which Eden and her mom had to be aware of—that the search might result in the discovery that Lucy was dead.

Rachelle approached their table. “How are you two enjoying—” After a glance at Eden’s face, she stopped. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Eden waved a hand and gave a wobbly smile. “No, it’s okay. Just a family thing that gets me a little emotional. On top of being run-down, stressed, and drinking too much wine. I’m so embarrassed.” Her voice had firmed as she spoke and she sounded rueful as she went on. “Believe me, the interruption is welcome. Rachelle, this restaurant is great and the food’s wonderful. My compliments to the chef. Aaron tells me she’s your wife.”

“The first time Celia cooked for me, she won my heart.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. And I can understand why.”

“Say, Rachelle,” Aaron said, “you know pretty much everyone on Destiny. Can you think of a woman named Lucy, age sixty-five? Or a man named Barry?”

She tilted her head, reflecting. “I’m pretty sure there’s no Barry on Destiny. Lucy Smolenski’s a lot younger than sixty-five and Lucinda Barrie is a teenager. I think they’re the only ones named Lucy. Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for a missing relative,” Eden said. “She came here in 1969, joined the commune, and, uh, the family never heard from her again.”

“That’s too bad. There were lots of hippies on the island and some ended up staying. Maybe one of them will know what happened to her.”

“When you’re not so busy,” Eden said, “would you mind giving me some names? And Aaron said it’s possible your parents might know something?”

“Dad didn’t have much patience with the hippies. He says their idea of living off the land was expecting the land and sea to provide for them without them having to put in the hard work. Mom’s eight years younger than him, so I’m not sure she even had much contact with the commune folks. But I’ll ask them and let you know.”

“I’d appreciate that. Could you ask them if they’d mind talking to their friends as well?”

“You bet. The wider you spread the net, as Dad says. Now, you finish up your dinner so I can tempt you with dessert.” With a flick of her beaded braids, she moved on to the next table.

And with any luck, after dinner Aaron would be able to tempt Eden into a shared kiss or two in the moonlight.