“What are you doing in there,” she murmured, fishing it out.
“What’s that?” Star asked curiously.
Georgia showed her the drooping clover stem.
“I’m finding them everywhere.”
Star looked thoughtful. “Any idea why?”
Georgia blotted the clover on her cloth napkin. “Not a clue.”
Star reached over and picked up the clover stem, twirling it between her fingers. “Maybe the island is trying to tell you something,” she suggested.
“Like what?” Georgia said with a note of skepticism.
Star pondered for a moment. Her expression was serious. “Idon’t know, but there’s a little bit of magic in this place, remember? It’s a place where secrets are revealed and where lost things find their way home.” She set the soggy clover in front of Georgia. “You should ask the island what it’s trying to tell you,” she said at last. “Maybe you’ll be surprised by the answer.”
29
Georgia could hearthe bluegrass music drifting over the lawn as she walked through the evergreens toward the shellfish farm, flanked by Star and Cole. Star was holding up the hem of her patchwork peasant skirt as it brushed the dewy grass. Cole, looking particularly striking in an ink blue wool fisherman’s sweater and jeans, took long, silent strides. He’d said only one word to her since coming to pick her and Star up, a muttered, “Ready?” But she’d seen his eyes widen in surprise when he first spotted her.
She’d eschewed her little black dress, the standard-issue Parisian outfit for almost every special event, and instead pulled out a dress she had only worn once, on a brief trip to Cannes with Etienne. It was a gorgeous silk emerald green cocktail dress with a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. She’d adored it the moment she’d seen it in a vintage shop in Paris, but Etienne had not liked her in it. Too garish, he said when he saw it on her the first time she’d worn it, so she’d put it away for another occasion. That occasion was tonight, she’d decided. She’d paired it with her soft cashmere cardigan as the evening was growing chilly and low black peep-toed heels that always made her want to dance. She’d worn her good black lace bra too, the one that made her breasts look extra perky. She’d done her hair in soft waves, the glamorous starlet look she favored for events, and slicked on her signature red lipstick for the final touch. She knew she was probably overdressed for an outdoor oyster festival, but she didn’tcare. Screw Etienne, she thought, as she walked through the damp grass. Georgia felt like a million bucks. It was her birthday and she was leaving the island soon and she wanted to celebrate in style. For tonight, she was going to forget all her unfinished business and simply enjoy.
“Oh, look,” Georgia exclaimed as she spied the shellfish farm through the trees. “It’s magical!”
The entire property had been transformed for the party with strings of white lights crisscrossing overhead in the eating area, and lanterns illuminating the pathways. Every picnic table was filled with islanders and tourists in their party clothes, chowing down on fried and barbecued oysters and beer and wine. Over in one corner was a live bluegrass band with a stand-up bass and fiddle and banjo, already plucking a lively tune. There was a dance floor set up in front of the band, and a few intrepid couples were whirling and dipping each other more or less in time to the music. She spied several carnival-type booths set up in the grassy area behind the main building, children and teens gathered around them, cheering one another on in games of skill and chance. The place was packed, buzzing with happy, festive energy, the air thick with the smell of charcoal and fried oysters. It was mouthwatering. Georgia looked around and grinned, glad now that she’d worn the party dress. This felt like the perfect way to finish out her birthday.
Georgia spied Billy talking to an older white-haired woman seated at a picnic table. They waved and Star said, “There’s Barbara and Billy. I’m going to go say hi. I’ll see you two later.” She peeled off from them, leaving Georgia alone with Cole.
“Come on,” Georgia invited, grabbing Cole’s hand and dragging him toward the line for food and beverages. “I’m going to try a fried oyster. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to taste it this time around.”
COLE
Reluctantly, Cole stoodbeside Georgia in the line. She was pressed close to him in the crowd. Her hair brushed his arm, and he could smell her perfume, something that reminded him of the delicate scent of cherry blossoms, a warm Paris evening, the freshness of growing things. He leaned a little closer, savoring the memory and the warmth of her against him. She was leaving soon, and the thought filled him with regret. It scared him, how fast his feelings were growing for her. It had been a long time since he’d felt this attracted to someone. Not since Amy. Not since he’d destroyed everything. He was leery of love. He had not deserved it the first time, and he was certainly not worthy of a second chance.
But Georgia would be gone in a few days, he reminded himself, and with that knowledge, he let down his guard a little. What was the harm of savoring being close to her when the odds were high that he would never see Georgia May Jackson again? Might as well let himself enjoy the evening, a bittersweet farewell before she swanned out of his life for good. The thought of her departure gave him an unexpectedly sharp twist of pain right in the center of his chest, the place that had felt hollow since Amy left him. It surprised him to feel anything in there. He had felt numb for so long.
“One white wine, one Coke, and a dozen fried oysters, please,” Georgia said confidently when it was their turn at the shellfish farm’s walk-up order counter. She glanced at him. “Want anything else? My treat.”
“I’m good.” He shook his head. She paid and then turned quickly, almost bumping into him. He was standing so close, too close.Back off. Don’t make this weird, he chastened himself,taking a step back. What was it about this woman that made him keep edging closer?
“Here you go.” She handed him the Coke and a paper tray of fried oysters. Miraculously, they snagged two empty stools made out of cut rounds of logs. A few had been scattered around the open area near the beach for extra seating. Cole dragged their seats a few yards away from the other revelers, giving them a bit of privacy. Then he sat down and took a long swig of his Coke. Georgia sat across from him, holding her little paper tray of fried oysters and a plastic cup of white wine, looking around with a delighted smile.
Right then, in the glow of the lights overhead, with the strains of the fiddle and the mournful voice of the lead singer wailing about the girl he loved so true, Cole didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so beautiful. She was saying something to him, but he was distracted by the curve of her full lips, with that scarlet shade of lipstick she always wore. Her curls tumbled loose, brushing her neck, and when she threw her head back and laughed, his mouth went dry.
He didn’t want her to leave, plain and simple. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to hear her voice calling sleepily to him in the darkness of a rainy winter night. He wanted to feel the curve of her hip against his as she shifted in sleep. He wanted... her. And it petrified him. He took another swallow of Coke and gazed out at the dark water of the bay, trying to steady the battering ram thud of his heart in his chest. She was going away soon. Back to her life in Paris, back to the life she’d always dreamed of. And he and Star... what would become of them?
You have to tell her, his conscience urged.You can’t let her walk away without knowing the truth. It could change everything.He owed it to her. She deserved the truth.
“Georgia.”
“Yes?” She turned to him, eyes bright. He opened his mouth to tell her, but stopped, picturing Star’s face, the hope and sorrow mingled as she swore him to secrecy and told him about her plan to bring Georgia to the island. It was not his secret to tell. It was Star’s, and although it affected all of them, he could not break a confidence. He’d promised Star, and he was a man of his word.
He snapped his mouth closed. “Nothing. You look beautiful tonight. I like your dress.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked pleased. “Thank you.” She took a sip of wine and grimaced. “I wish this tasted better.”
“It’s probably not that good even if you could taste it,” he assured her. “Billy always goes cheap with the wine at these events.”
