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He hesitated. “Yes, besides that. I always wished I’d been able to do more to help you through that.”
“There wasn’t anything anyone could do.” She inhaled a slow, deep breath. It felt good to get that out. None of them could’ve done anything more than they did. She wasn’t sure she’d ever admitted that before.
Until Preston told her he wanted a divorce, she’d lived most of her life under the illusion that she had some kind of control. But the truth was, she didn’t. No one could control the surging ocean of life. It carried people where it willed, and sometimes all a person could do was splash around in search of a life preserver and then hold on tight.
“Still, I should’ve been there for you. I was in over my head. I didn’t know how to be present in someone’s grief. I wanted to do something, but really, all you needed was for me to be there. And I wasn’t. I’ve always wanted to apologise for that — so here’s my apology. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend when you lost your mum.”
A lump formed in her throat. She coughed to mask it. “No need to say sorry. You were a kid. I get it. You had other things going on in your life. No one else could really understand what we were going through, and I shouldn’t have expected you to. I blamed you for not being around at the time, but now that I’ve raised kids through that age, I’m actually surprised how much of a support you were. Most teen boys would’ve run a mile long before you did.”
Within half an hour, they pulled into the village of Blue Shoal on the opposite side of the island to Kellyville. It faced the open ocean but was protected by the Great Barrier Reef. The blue-green tint of the water looked like a postcard as it licked the long, white sandy shoreline.
At one end of the village stood an old blue inn. It was three stories tall, with white trim. The blue paint was faded and peeled away in places. The garden was a little overgrown. But otherwise, it looked much as Bea remembered it from her childhood. Back then, there hadn’t been much more to Blue Shoal than a jetty, a small marina, the fish processing plant, a few quaint houses and the inn.
Now there were several small resorts, a large one under construction, a collection of upmarket shops and boutiques, and dozens of holiday homes. The inn was an elderly relic of yesteryear, standing vigil against the beach and glinting beneath the warm winter sun.
“I really love this place,” Aidan said, putting the vehicle into park.
They climbed out and stood side by side, watching the sun setting over the ocean. The sky turned pink in a sudden flood of colour. The ocean fell into shadow, surging dark against the shore.
“That’s amazing,” Bea said. “I forgot how fantastic the sunsets are up here. It’s nothing like this in Sydney.”
“There’s nowhere else like it.”
They stood that way for several long minutes, watching the sun ease its way into the ocean. Bea’s fingers brushed against Aidan’s, and a jolt of heat flashed through her body. She crossed her arms over her chest, anxious not to give him the wrong impression.
“I should go,” he said. “I’ve got to get to my meeting. I’ll pick you up around ten?”
“That’s perfect. Thanks for driving me. The road was even worse than I’d expected. I don’t think Dad’s station wagon would’ve made it.”
“My pleasure.” He walked away in the direction of the village.
Bea knocked on the door of the inn, then noticed it was open and pushed her way inside. There was a small reception counter on one side with a bell on it. She picked up the bell and rang. A young woman with blonde hair hurried out from a back room, tying an apron around her neat waist.
“Hi there. Can I help you?”
“Beatrice Rushton… I’m here to see Taya Eldridge.”
“Of course, Ms Rushton. Please come with me. Ms Eldridge is expecting you in our private dining room.”
“Wonderful.”
Bea followed the woman through a large living area full of plush seating and lined with bookshelves stacked with hardcover books. There was an enormous fireplace in the centre of the room. On the other side of it, a spacious dining room dotted with round tables filled with inn patrons and decorated with cosy throw rugs on window seats and swirling blue and gold wallpaper. The back of the dining room looked out over the ocean through large picture windows. The light from the sunset gave the entire space the tone of an old-fashioned photograph.
Past the doorway to the kitchen and into another smaller room, Bea found herself surrounded by familiar faces.
Evie hurried to embrace her. “There you are! I’m so glad you came.”
Taya Eldridge was a tall woman with long, sleek brown hair that hung almost to her waist. Her makeup was impeccable and her figure lithe. She offered Bea a smile over the top of an enormous glass of red wine.
“Beatrice Rushton, what a surprise to find you back on the island. You didn’t change your name to something else, did you?”
Bea gave her a hug. “No, I added my husband’s with a hyphen but didn’t ever fill out the paperwork to make it official. As it turns out, that was a brilliant idea. Now I don’t have to change it back.”
“Well done, you,” said Penny St James, a short, curvy woman with honey-blonde curls that looked as though she’d stepped right out of a surf magazine. She kissed Bea on the cheek.
“Taya, this place is beautiful. It’s hardly changed. I’m so glad you bought it — I’d hate to see it fall into disrepair. It’s an institution on this island.”
Taya’s nose wrinkled. “It’s not in great shape, but I do love the place. I’ve got renovations planned, but I’m waiting for the bank to approve my loan.”
