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Trent cocked his head and set his elder-brother stare on Derek, indicating that he needed to get control of himself.
Derek turned away from them all, muttering a curse. One Quinn agreed with wholeheartedly.
“I’ll be reading over this document with a fine-tooth comb this evening,” Trent said in a remarkably even voice, one Quinn knew he’d honed from years of being the best lawyer in the business. “What is your deadline on our decision?”
“One week from today, seven a.m.” Their grandfather clutched the arms of his wheelchair again. “Didi.”
“Yes, sir.” Her soft, apologetic gaze swept over the brothers—“Gentlemen”—before she wheeled their grandfather from the office.
Chapter Five
SHELLEY HAD BREAKFAST at the resort and spent an hour reading through brochures of the amenities the island had to offer while staff members stopped by to give their two cents about places to visit and things to do. At her coffee shop, one of her favorite things to do was talk with the customers. Anyone could see that the resort staff felt the same way. Another hotel guest struck up a conversation about sailing lessons, which Shelley immediately signed up for. By midafternoon she was having fantasies about what it would be like to live on the warm, friendly island full-time.
After breakfast she set out on foot to explore the nearby town, silently thanking Quinn for the Motrin. She followed a group of window-shopping tourists along pristine sidewalks lined with manicured flowerbeds to the town center. The town center had a turnabout with a courtyard in the center, complete with iron benches, tall trees, and a dark, cedar-sided tourist information center.
Already enthralled by the island, Shelley went inside the information center to make sure she didn’t miss anything Rockwell Island had to offer. A gray-haired woman smiled up at her from behind the information desk, where she sat with a phone pressed to her ear. There were even more brochures here than there were in the resort, and on the wall to the right, a mass of photographs were thumbtacked to a corkboard, immediately drawing Shelley’s attention. There were pictures of children holding up handmade signs announcing various events: the Rockwell Wine Festival, a book fair, a 10K race, and more. Other pictures included photographs of men and women with large fish and wide smiles, and quite a few wedding pictures, too.
“Hello there.” The woman moved from behind the desk and joined Shelley by the pictures. “I call this our brag wall.” She had warm, deep-set gray-blue eyes, and her face was mapped with lines that told of lots of sun and smiles.
A brag wall for the town? I love that.
Shelley scanned the wall, then focused on a picture of a lanky teenager on a sailboat. His eyes looked strikingly familiar. “Are these island residents?”
“Why, yes. I call all the youngsters here on the island my grandchildren. I think I have hundreds now.” She laughed. “See this handsome man with the large fish? That’s Ethan Rockwell. I’ve known him since he was yay high.” She held her hand up just above her knees. “And Quinn on his sailboat? That’s one of my favorites.” She pointed to the picture of the lanky teen Shelley had been admiring.
Quinn grew up on the island. Shelley’s pulse quickened all over again from memory of the kiss they’d shared. She worked to pay attention as the woman pointed out and named several more residents, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the photograph of Quinn. His eyes were wide with excitement in the picture, one long arm holding the mast of the boat, the other waving to whoever took the picture. The boy she saw in the picture was a far cry from the broad and muscular man she’d met last night.
A family came into the visitors’ center, and the woman touched Shelley’s arm. “My name is Eleanor. Please come back and see me sometime. I’ll show you more pictures. I replace them every few months, except for my favorites, which stay up for years.”
Shelley meandered into Books by the Bay next, where she bought the newest romance novel by her favorite author. Then she stopped into Taylor’s Treasures, a souvenir shop, where she bought an island key chain. Farther down the road a cheerful yellow sign with red letters caught her eye. Annabelle’s.
Annabelle’s was a clothing shop that had hardwood floors and effervescent blue walls trimmed with dark stained wood. There were two tables out front with lovely soft shirts and lightweight cardigans. Shelley happily began to look through racks of pretty summer dresses along the far wall. She’d never been a clotheshorse, but she wanted one of everything in this boutique.
“Hi. Is there something I can help you find?”
Shelley turned at the soft voice and was met with a pretty, petite blonde with big blue eyes and a wide smile. “I’m just looking. But everything is gorgeous.”
