“I know this probably sounds presumptuous and odd, but do you think we could be friends?”
He chuckled dryly. “That is not what I expected you to say.”
She shrugged. “Just to clear the air, I read the news. I’m very sorry for your loss, and I understand that it takes time to recover from something like that. I lost someone very special to me around the same time.”
He swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Thank you.”
“And I just started painting again. So just so you know, giving me access to the lighthouse actually means a lot. There were times I thought I’d never feel that passion again, but here I am.” She spread her arms wide.
She didn’t say that he’d get there too. Didn’t give assurances that all he needed was time. Simply said that it meant a lot to her. He appreciated that more than she could know. He’d just about had it with the well-meaning but empty platitudes.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice rough.
There was a pause while he searched for the right way to say goodbye. She shifted her weight to her other hip and then smiled again. “Okay, so I’d better go. Have a good day, Branson.”
“You too. And thank you for the peace offering.” He attempted to smile back and saw her eyes widen. Wow. Did he really smile so rarely that it came as a complete surprise?
“Okay...bye, then.” She took a step backward, then gave a little wave before turning away from him and heading across the lawn toward the bluff and the red-and-white sentinel standing guard.
He shut the door, then went to his den. The broad expanse of windows gave him a perfect view, and he watched as she picked her way over rocks and bumps, her footsteps sure and light. She pulled out her camera and started snapping, and after a while put it away and pulled out a sketch pad. A half smile on his face, he shook his head as she picked a large rock for a seat, plopped herself on it and started to draw.
Then he sat down and opened his laptop. Stared at the screen for a few minutes, then opened his browser.
He wasn’t quite ready. But for the first time since losing Jennie and Owen, he felt that someday he might be.
* * *
Jess hadn’t planned to stay at the Sandpiper so long, and when Tori offered up her boathouse as an alternative place to stay, Jess snapped it up immediately. The building was adorable, with a warm and welcoming red door, tons of natural light, the coziest of galley kitchens and a single bedroom. The bunk beds inside had a small double on the bottom and a single on the top, so she put her clothes in the tiny dresser and made herself comfortable on the mattress with the cheery comforter sporting nautical designs in navy, red and white.
According to Tori, she and Jeremy had considered making it a vacation rental. But they were waiting to do that since Tori’s time was taken up with being a brand-new mom. Jess stared up at the bottom of the bunk above her and let out a happy sigh. She’d take this over a hotel room any day.
After a twenty-minute nap, she got up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While it was steeping, she looked around the tiny living room and examined the light sources. Sketching wasn’t a big deal. If she wanted to paint, she had different requirements for light and space. A few adjustments and she’d moved some of the furniture, pushing it closer to the wall. The wicker rocking chair found a new home on the sweet white-railed porch, and she wondered if Tori would be amenable to taking out the coffee table altogether. Then it would be just about right.
But she wasn’t ready to start painting yet. Today she’d started some preliminary sketches that she liked but wasn’t crazy over. Carrying her tea, sketch pad and pencils, she went to the porch and sat in the afternoon sun, sipping and contemplating. She turned the page over and started something different. Just the very edge of the lighthouse intruded on the right-hand side of the paper; and then, just to the left of center, she started moving her pencil, beginning an outline of a man, hands in his pockets, staring out to sea.
There was something captivating about him. She wanted to say that it wasn’t because of his celebrity, but now that she knew, it kind of was. She’d read one or two of his books...figured he’d released something like ten now, maybe a dozen. Mysteries and procedurals, where she couldn’t wait to turn another page and was afraid to at the same time. She admired a brain like that, so willing to wander into the darkness and face it unflinchingly, and with such detail. Now, having met him, and knowing he was grieving, she had another impression. In all his books, there was still a thread of hope through them. The bad guy always got what was coming to him. The main characters always came through with a happy ending.
He didn’t get his happy ending, though. She knew how that felt. Broken hearts, crushed dreams. Jess had never quite had the family she’d always wanted. And as she made sweep after sweep on her pad, she saw the outline of a broken man coming through.
She didn’t notice the time until the sun went behind the trees, dimming her light. She’d been working for hours, and she tilted her neck, working out a creak. With a sigh she picked up her phone and checked her messages. There was one from Tori, inviting her up for drinks later. She checked the time...inviting her for drinks in twenty minutes, to be exact. She’d worked throughout the late afternoon and what normally would have been dinner. She went inside, closing the red door behind her, and opened the fridge. She wasn’t about to have drinks on an empty stomach, so she took out a container of hummus and nibbled on some crackers and veggies. Her hair was tucked in a bun and held there with a pencil, but she didn’t really care. It was Tori and Jeremy, and they seemed like the most laid back people she’d ever met. On went her flat sandals, a quick smooth over her flowy skirt, and she was off along the gravel path to the main house.
Branson’s car was in the driveway and she hesitated, wondering if Tori had asked him to join them. They’d made peace yesterday, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for couples drinks and a social call where he was concerned. She nearly turned back when Tori’s voice called her name. She couldn’t turn around now and pretend she hadn’t heard. Her careless hair and slightly wrinkled skirt would have to do. And she could fake her way through small talk, couldn’t she?
“Hi!” she called out, skirting the house and heading to the backyard patio. Clearly this was where the action was in the Fisher house. She shivered; it was only May, and she hadn’t thought to bring a sweater.
“Hi yourself,” Tori offered. “I’m out here grabbing Rose’s blanket. I left it out earlier. Come on inside.”
Grateful to be going inside for the visit, Jess let out a breath and held the door as Tori went in, her arms full of baby and blanket. Jeremy was at the island pouring drinks. “Hey, Jess,” he said. “Glad you could come up.”
“Jess?”
She turned around abruptly. Bran was there, at the end of the hall, staring at her. Oh, Lord. He hadn’t known she was invited. Her face heated and then together they stared at Tori, whose eyebrows lifted in an expression of innocence.
“What? Jess is staying in our boathouse so she can paint. And you haven’t been over in a week. What’s the big deal?”
Bran leveled his gaze on her. “Because you set it up, Miss Innocent.”
Great. He had no desire to be there with her. And she wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she wouldn’t have put it precisely that way. Then again, her initial encounters with Branson had demonstrated his usual manner was blunt.