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Donovan hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go now. Listen, my offer still stands if you change your mind about the antique mall. And Maggie, I hope you know I’m here for you if you want to talk about your dad or Magpie’s oranything.”
A little dizzy, I said, “I won’t forget, Donovan.”
His wide shoulders rounded as he stuck his hands in his pockets. A rock skittered as he kicked it far across the alley. He climbed into the van.
I wanted to call out, to tell him not to leave, to stay. Stay and tell me more about the antique mall. Tell me more about his plans for us.
I pressed my lips together, keeping in all the things I wanted to tell him. All the things I thought he ought to know. Like how much I loved him. How much I’d loved him since I was fifteen years old.
The van roared to life and he turned and gave me a sad smile before driving off.
I felt like crying. Full-out, body-shaking sobbing. It took a good minute and every ounce of willpower to hold the tears at bay, to keep my composure.
When I finally turned to go back inside, I found Estrelle standing in Stitchery’s back doorway, an empty cardboard box in her hands. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, and I supposed it didn’t really matter. With herknowing,she likely had plenty of insight into my sad love life.
Her voice was rough and rock hard as she said, “Magdalena, are you not now denyingyourselfof your true desire? If you continue to allow yourself to be haunted by your past, if you continue to allow fear to run your life, you willneverhave the future you yearn for, the happiness you’ve dreamed of. You must make peace with your past in order to move forward. Stop hiding from your pain. The only way out isthrough.”
Despite her rigid tone there was softness in her eyes behindthe veil, and at the sight of it, my composure threatened to break. Tears pooled in my eyes.
A diaphanous black chiffon dress billowed as she clomped to the recycling bin in her chunky heels, tossed the box inside, then shuffled back to the doorway, and looked at me.“It has been said.”
CHAPTER 14AVA
“How was it?” Sam asked an hour after I nearly fainted in the square.
Norman slept at my feet, snoring softly, as I sat at Sam’s round wooden bistro table. He’d just cleared my empty plate. “Honestly? The toast tasted like sawdust, but the jam was the best thing I’ve tasted in months. I could happily eat it with a spoon.” I picked up the unlabeled mason jar, held it to the light, admiring its ruby glow. “Is it made out of rainbows and unicorns?”
“Close. Raspberries from my mama’s garden.”
I watched him move about the kitchen, his lanky body smooth and fluid as he put the plate in the dishwasher, wiped crumbs from the counter around the toaster, and hung a dishtowel on the oven handle.
Sam’s house had a similar footprint to Maggie’s place, only bigger and more airy, with its vaulted ceiling. Light poured in from the south-facing windows, which had stunning views of the gulf across the road.
The windows were closed but I could still hear the waves, that endless push and pull. A ceiling fan whirred noisily; one of its blades was slightly out of balance. Down the hall, a washing machine behind a closed door entered a spin cycle.
“Do your mom and her magical garden live around here?” I asked.
The open space was decorated in light neutrals and was minimalist yet somehow cozy, done in beiges and blues. A thick area rug sectioned off the living room, covering a white oak floor. Four throw pillows topped each of the two couches, which werearranged in an L shape, one facing the TV, the other facing the front windows and the gorgeous view. A sleek oak sideboard acted as a TV stand, its remote the only item on a round coffee table. There were no photographs except for a snapshot of Norman tacked to the fridge with a magnet. The only artwork was a series of three large framed posters—blueprints for musical instruments. A guitar, a violin, and a banjo. They hung side by side next to the bistro table. Those prints were the only things in the space that hinted about the musical nature I suspected Sam of hiding.
“North Alabama, not too far from Huntsville.”
“Is that where you grew up?”
His body stiffened, his motions no longer loose and limber as he checked Norman’s food and water dishes before rejoining me at the table. He sat and folded his arms across his chest. “Yep. Mom, Dad, my sister, and me. Everyone’s still up there.”
“Except for you.”
He looked toward the front windows. “Except for me.”
Across the street, alongside the boardwalk, sea oats were swaying in the wind like they were dancing to a tune only they could hear.
“What brought you here?” I asked, pressing my luck.
He swept a hand over the table, brushing away invisible crumbs. “Chasing happy memories. My grandparents used to have a place down here when I was a kid. I tried to buy direct beachfront, but those houses don’t come up on the market often. I spent a lot of summers on that beach, playing in the water, letting the soothing lullaby of the waves lull me to sleep.”
“As far as lullabies go, I don’t think you can get much better.”
My gaze flicked to Dez’s house. How soon would he hear about my little episode this morning and reconsider hiring me? Maggie had already called my cell phone—apparently she’d been one of the first to hear the news—and had gone all mama bear on me, not hanging up until she was assured by both Sam and me that I was okay. In my head, I could easily picture thespandexed Bettina flying into the coffee shop to share the news, all fluffed up and flapping away.
