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Wayne shrugged. “Because they have money, power, and the entire island behind them.”
“But not you?”
“I’m kind of a lone wolf,” Wayne said.
“How lucky for me,” Elise said, rolling her eyes.
“Come on. You’ll love the water. And maybe out there, you can think of what you want to do next,” Wayne said.
**
ELISE COULDN’T RESISTthe offer.
The only thing she needed?
A swimsuit.
She insisted on buying one hurriedly at another boutique, then meeting Wayne on the street corner to walk back to his place. As they went, they chattered easily—avoiding all conversation of the Swartzes, of the police station, of Allison Darby. Elise felt herself relax, breathe deeper. When they reached the front door, Elise casually removed the key Wayne had given her and slotted it into the lock.
“Oh, look at you. Acting like you own the place,” Wayne teased her.
“That’s right. Shoes off at the door!” Elise called.
Wayne laughed—and it wasn’t a fake laugh, either. It was the kind of laugh Elise could have really come home to.
Elise changed into her swimsuit and one of her new summery dresses, dropped off the rest of her newly bought supplies, and then met Wayne out front.
“I keep the sailboat out by the Island House,” he said.
“Do you take it out very often?” Elise asked.
“Not as much as I should,” Wayne affirmed. “I used to sail a lot more. Back in the old days, I sailed from Chicago to Mackinac Island. There’s a big race here every July. It ends with one of the most outrageous parties you’ve seen in your life. The docks are lined with the most beautiful sailboats. People are funny and loud and joking and bantering for hours-on-end. The island comes to life in a much different way.”
“And now, it’s on its way out,” Elise said.
“That’s right. But we’re going to catch the last of it.”
Elise had never been sailboating.
Out on the Pacific, the water was a different beast altogether: dark and boisterous and occasionally angry, nothing that Elise had ever especially craved to be out on. The Straits of Mackinac couldn’t have been more different.
Wayne’s boat was glorious. It was about twenty feet long, with a portly hull and a glowing white underbelly, which reflected across the water.
The boat was namedTara.The name was painted across the side in glorious letters. Elise wanted to know who it was named after, what it meant. Maybe it was just some fictional character? Maybe it was his mother?
Wayne instructed Elise on little ways she could help. When they were out beyond the docks, she watched as he flung the sails open. It was a wild sensation, feeling the wind tear at the sails and take them across the waves. She gripped the railing of the boat and gazed back toward the island. Her heart rammed against her ribcage.
“You look scared. Are you scared?” Wayne called.
Elise shook her head, a complete lie. “I love it!”
Wayne laughed. “You look a little green!”
Elise perched in a little chair and continued to gaze at the water. The sun beamed down upon them, a sun that seemed heavy with nostalgia. The sailboat crept south around the island. Wayne pointed out the Grand Hotel; its white pillars reflected the sun, the white so bright it hurt Elise’s eyes.
Wayne stabilized the boat at the southwestern corner of the island. He allowed the sails to fall and he dropped the anchor. He then collapsed back, removed his shoes, placed his head on a pillow, and folded his ankles.
“Don’t you look comfortable,” Elise said.
