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“What a shame.” Nicky shook her head, then looked worriedly at Megan. “Are you okay on your own at the cottage?”
“I’ve been staying there since summer vacation began,” Megan told her. “Mike Sullivan, Mr. Sullivan, from the bookstore’s nephew, is staying at Sullivan’s Cottage next to mine.” She looked around. “He’s been great, and Sam Beckett calls on me all the time as well.”
“That’s good to know,” Nicky said.
“I don’t know if you heard, but Mr. Sullivan passed away six months ago.” Megan wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. “There’s been so much loss and pain over the past year.”
“I know about Mr. Sullivan,” Nicky answered. “I was coming from the bookstore when I found you.” She smiled. “I’ve put in an offer to buy the store.”
“Oh, that’s amazing!” Megan’s eyes widened with joy. “Mr. Sullivan would be pleased for you to have his store.” She smiled. “He spoke about you quite a bit about how you were his best customer in his store nearly every day, curling up on the armchair near the glass door with your nose in a book.”
“That was me!” Nicky confirmed. “I did love that store, and between you and me, I always dreamed of owning it one day.”
“Does this mean you’re moving back to Marco Island?” Megan asked her. “I’m sure Mr. Sullivan said something about you living in Miami.”
“I moved back yesterday, as a matter of fact.” Nicky dusted the sand off her hands. “As soon as I drove in, I saw the for-sale sign in the bookstore window.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Megan gave Nicky’s arm a squeeze. “And I think you should start believing in fate again because I think it led you back home to Marco Island for a reason.” She looked toward the bookstore. “One of them being to buy the bookstore, the other to help a distressed nineteen-year-old realize that talking really does help, and I’m sure the other reasons will become obvious as the days unfold.”
“I guess so!” Nicky pursed her lips and nodded before looking at Megan. “Say, what are you doing for dinner?”
“Nothing. I was going to boil an egg or something.” Megan shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“You can’t just have a boiled egg and bread!” Nicky shuddered. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner?” She glanced at the Scotts House. “My mother is cooking tonight, and she cooks enough to feed the whole of Marco Island.”
“I don’t want to put anyone out.” Megan looked toward the Scott properties.
“Nonsense!” Nicky waved her concern off. “Besides, my grandmother would love someone to fuss over.”
“If you’re sure.” Megan’s eyes searched Nicky’s.
“Come on.” Nicky pushed herself to her feet and dusted the sand off, holding out her hands to help Megan up.
“Thanks,” Megan puffed as she stood. “The heavier I get, the harder it is to get up off the ground.”
“I can imagine.” Nicky couldn’t help the catch in her voice and shook the pang of pain away.
“Thank you, Nicky.” Megan gave her a small smile, her vulnerability and gratitude shining through. “Talking to you has made me feel a bit better.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Nicky replied, a warm smile of her own forming. “Remember, you’re stronger than you think, Megan.” She put her arm around Megan’s narrow shoulders as they walked toward Scott House. “Sometimes we just need someone to remind us of that.”
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, they walked in companionable silence, sharing a bond of empathy. In the background, the waves continued their rhythmic dance, a reminder of the constancy of nature amid life’s uncertainties.
Nicky and Megan had no sooner stepped onto the small boardwalk that led to the Scott’s Hotel and Scott House when Nelly Scott, Nicky’s grandmother, rushed out to greet them.
“Goodness, is that Megan Riley?” Nelly pulled Megan into a warm embrace. “Hello, honey, how are you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Scott.” Megan smiled shyly. “I’m a lot better after Nicky found me.”
Nelly’s brows shot up as she looked inquiringly at Nicky.
“I was out walking on the beach,” Nicky explained. “I invited Megan for dinner.”
“I hope that’s okay?” Megan asked quickly.
“Of course,” Nelly said emphatically. “I’m so glad she did too. Pat always makes way too much food, and then we have to freeze it and end up eating for weeks to come.”
The three women walked into Scott House as Pat came out from the kitchen to greet them.
