“Yes, she was.”
People will pay money to see my face. You’ll never be as pretty as me, and that’s why people don’t love you.
She tried to wipe the memory from her mind. “No one will take pictures of you here. People are friendly.”
That much was true. She, Skylar and Brittany had spent plenty of happy evenings laughing and drinking in the Shipwreck Inn, and Brittany was well-known and loved on the island. Too well known.
She tried to remember whether her friend had ever mentioned a Ryan Cooper.
She was certain she hadn’t met him before.
His wasn’t a face that was easy to forget.
That face was in her head as she pulled open cupboards, looking through tins and dried pasta that Brittany left as emergency food. She found cereal, tipped it into the bowl along with the milk she’d bought and settled the child at the table. “We’ll finish unpacking and then explore the island.” Unpacking wasn’t going to take long. Should she be depressed that everything she valued from her old life had fit into two small suitcases? A few clothes and her precious first editions. “We can have lunch by the harbor. You can pick anything you like from the menu. It will be fun.”
“Can I bring my bear?”
Emily looked at the battered bear and decided its chances of surviving the trip were slim. There was a rip in its neck, and it had lost an eye. “Why don’t we leave him here? We don’t want to lose him.” Or parts of him.
“I want him to come.”
Concerned that half the bear might fall into the harbor, Emily was tempted to argue, but she was more afraid of doing something that might destabilize an already fragile situation. “We’ll take the bear.”
“Can I wear my fairy wings?”
Because fairy wings weren’t conspicuous at all. She closed her eyes and told herself that no one would be looking for the child of a Hollywood actress on an island off the coast of Maine. And if Skylar was right, then Lizzy wouldn’t be the only six-year-old wearing fairy wings. “If that’
s what you want.” She stiffened as the child slid off her chair and walked across to her.
A small hand slid into hers. “Will they find us?”
The feel of that hand made the pressure in her chest worsen. “No.” She croaked out the word. “We’re safe here.”
Or at least, she hoped they were.
Picking up her phone, she found Brittany’s name in her contacts and sent a text.
Who is Ryan Cooper?
BECAUSE IT WAS still early in the summer, she managed to park near the harbor. The busy working waterfront was a popular spot for tourists keen to experience all Puffin Island had to offer. Lobster boats, the lifeblood of the local community, bobbed alongside yachts, and fishermen rubbed shoulders with locals, tourists and sailing enthusiasts. The ferry that connected the island to the mainland ran three times a day when weather permitted. John Harris, the harbormaster, had been in charge of the service for as long as anyone could remember, terrifying everyone with his white shock of hair and heavy eyebrows.
From a distance, Emily recognized Dave Brown, who had been lobstering the waters around Puffin Island for three decades. She remembered standing with her friends, watching as he’d brought in the catch of the day, standing a safe distance from the deep waters of the harbor while Brittany and Kathleen had bought fish straight from the boat. They’d cooked it fresh and eaten it in the garden with butter dripping down chins and eager fingers.
“Can I see the boats?” Curious, Lizzy wandered toward the edge of the harbor, and Emily grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back.
Her heart was thudding and her palms were clammy. Why had she parked by the harbor? She should have found a side street and stayed as far from the water as possible.
John Harris walked across to them, a frown turning his eyebrows into a single shaggy line. “Careful. The water is deep here.”
While Emily waited for her heart to slow down, she kept a grip on Lizzy. Brittany had once confessed the harbormaster had terrified her as a child, and Emily and Skylar had laughed, both unable to imagine Brittany being terrified of anything.
Lizzy didn’t seem to share that fear. She looked from him to the ferry that was just leaving the harbor. “Is that the same ferry we came on last night?”
“It’s the same. The Captain Hook.”
“Like in Peter Pan?”
John Harris studied the child. “It’s named for Dan Hook who donated the money for a ferry service fifty years ago. Is this your first visit to Puffin Island?”