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“They say she had two speeds,” Viv whispered, her tone hardening as she stared at the mailbox. “Wild and catatonic, with no in-between. A wild cat. As though she were an animal or an object. Like she wasn’t even a person.” She straightened slowly, walked to the mailbox, and trailed her fingers over the garish paint. “She saw this. Heard the talk swirling around her all her life. You think I could ever put that behind me?”
Beau grimaced, the thought of what Sylvie and Viv must have endured disconcerting. The idea that Kit had abandoned Sylvie and Viv, along with the rest of her family, was just as troubling.
“I won’t go in.” Viv glared at the house. “Not while Kit’s in there. She doesn’t deserve to step foot in that house, much less live there again.”
“There’s no need to go in.” He walked over and squeezed her upper arm gently. “We’ll just knock on the door, let her know you’re here, and she can come out to you.”
“And you’ll get on the boat with me?” she asked, an uncharacteristic tremor in her tone.
“That’s not up to me. That’ll be up to your family.” He smiled softly. “But I promise I won’t leave here until you do.”
Beau walked with Viv up the driveway, his step hesitating at the sight of a rusty truck.
Royal Teague might not be very accommodating. At least, he hadn’t been too friendly at the Hope Creek Community Center two years ago. A meeting had been held to discuss Beau and Nate’s proposed oyster farm and debate its potential impact on Hope Creek and its permanent residents. Royal had been the most vocal of the small crowd, his questions spat across the room like accusations, garnering applause from several attendees and increasing the potential for pushback regarding Beau and Viv’s future proposal for expanding the farm.
Teague’s Seafood had barely broken even the year prior to the installation of Pearl Tide Oyster Company’s farm, and now . . . well, Royal’s business was on the verge of going belly-up. Something Beau and his father hadn’t set out to do, though he knew Royal blamed them all the same. Viv, too, now that she’d become a partner in the Sutton family venture.
“They’ll agree to it,” Viv said. “Mama didn’t leave them a choice.”
They continued up the driveway, and Beau walked up the steps to the screened-in front porch. Viv stopped halfway up the steps and leaned against the rickety porch rail. Beau knocked on the frame of the screen door and shoved his hands in his pockets, listening for sounds of someone approaching, but no one stirred inside the house.
Beau tilted his wrist, glanced down at his watch, then tilted his head back and looked around. The sky blushed as the sun ascended higher above the moss-laden tree line, and a fine dew sparkled across the knee-high grass and weeds littering the front lawn of Teague Cottage. A thin ray of sunlight strolled across the driveway and up the dented porch screen before settling on the frayed armrest of a wide wicker chair by the front door.
Dawn had definitely arrived, but maybe they’d come too earl—
The front door swung open on a creak, and Kit walked onto the front porch. Her cheeks blushed the same shade as the sky when her gaze settled on him. She wore a T-shirt and jeans today instead of the polished business suit from yesterday, and she’d pulled her long brown hair back in a tight ponytail that skimmed her shoulders. Her expression was soft in the morning light, her face devoid of make-up, her thick lashes were lowered, and a hint of drowsiness was in her gaze, as though she’d just woken up recently.
Beau cleared his throat. “Good morning. I hope we’re not too early.”
“We?” She perked up, and her eyes focused over his right shoulder, then widened at the sight of her sister.
Beau eased out of the way.
Kit opened the screen door, walked slowly down the steps, and stood in front of Viv. Both women remained perfectly still, inches apart, each studying the other. Their gazes roved over each other’s feet, legs, waist, chest, arms, shoulders, and face before locking eyes.
Kit’s mouth moved soundlessly, and a look of pain and dismay passed over her face, before she lifted her arms and embraced Viv.
Beau tensed as he watched Viv stiffen when Kit pulled her close. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and she stared straight ahead, fixing her hard glare on the tangle of live oaks on the other side of the driveway. All traces of grief and vulnerability he’d glimpsed earlier had drained from her face, and a hard, stoic look had taken their place.
After a few silent moments, Kit let go and stepped back.
Viv’s glare shifted, sliding from the tree line to Kit’s face. “Feel better?” she asked quietly. “Help soothe your conscience?”
Kit’s chest lifted, her breath quickening between her parted lips, as she returned her sister’s stare. “I missed you, Viv. More than I could ever say.”
“Yeah?” Viv’s lip curled. “I’ve been right here. Right where I’ve always been.” One dark brow lifted. “Where’ve you been, huh? Where were you while Mama was dying?”
“Viv . . .” Skin prickling, Beau lifted his hand in appeal.
“What?” She cut her eyes at him briefly, then refocused on Kit. “I’m just chatting with my sister.” Her lips lifted, and she bared her teeth in a slow, dead smile. “My dear, sweet, selfish sister.”
Kit straightened and squared her shoulders, her dark head rising two inches above Viv’s slumped form. “I don’t want to fight, Viv.”
Viv braced her hands on the rail at her back and pushed to her full height. The metal rail shivered beneath her forceful grip, then wobbled precariously on the edge of the steps. “No, you don’t, do you? You’re a coward, and cowards prefer to slink away and leave everyone else behind to suff—”
“That’s enough.” The screen door slammed, and Royal walked onto the top step. He cradled a small, cylindrical bamboo case close to his chest, his eyes bloodshot and his voice hoarse.
Viv looked up at Royal and scoffed. “Of course. Daddy to the rescue.” She faced Kit again, her chin trembling, a sheen of moisture glinting in her eyes in the morning sunlight. “Always Daddy’s little g—”
