How to Keep a Secret

“I’ll visit soon.” There was a note of desperation in Alice’s voice. “Tell Nancy to call. I’m going to miss squeezing through that gap in the fence. We’ve been doing that since we were four years old.”

“I know.”

Years of friendship. One betrayal.

Lauren had no idea what she would have done in her mother’s position, or whether she would have been able to hold on to that particular secret for so many years.

Nancy had told them that she’d suspected for a long time, but hadn’t been sure until that day she and Alice had visited the Sail Loft.

“It’s the reason I took her,” Nancy had confessed one night as they’d all shared a bottle of wine. “I wanted to see her reaction. I needed to know for sure.”

And now she knew.

“I heard you’re starting your own business.” Alice wasn’t in a hurry to let Lauren leave.

“Yes. It’s all very exciting.” And frustrating. And impossible. Why had she thought anyone would give her a loan? She was a terrible risk.

“I heard from Mary-Beth that you even have your first client.”

“Yes.”

Miranda Hillyard, a lawyer from Boston who had moved to the Vineyard permanently a few years earlier, and was in the process of renovating a $8.8 million waterfront home near Chilmark. She’d happened to be walking her dog along the beach path one day when Lauren had been painting pallets to use as nightstands.

Miranda had stopped to talk. Within minutes, Lauren had found herself showing her round the Sail Loft. Miranda had fired questions at her and later, when Lauren had typed her name into a search engine, she’d seen that Miranda had a terrifying reputation as the lawyer who never lost a case. It was easy to see why. She was nothing if not persuasive and when Miranda had asked to see The Captain’s House, Lauren had agreed. She was proud of what they’d achieved there, although she’d kept details of the budget to herself. Turned out she was the queen of recycling and repurposing, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do that with every job.

Finally, after Lauren had bitten her nails to the quick, the woman had called and asked Lauren to come and look round her house and give an opinion.

Lauren had spent half a day with her, walking through the place room by room, absorbing Miranda’s vision for the place and translating that into ideas. It had been exciting to think about decor without first thinking about whether they could afford to do it. Miranda was wealthy and had big plans.

Lauren had left with her first client and a major problem.

The Hillyard project promised to be huge and Lauren had no capital with which to fund her new business.

Her mother couldn’t contribute because she needed all the rental money from The Captain’s House to get through the winter.

If Miranda had been more approachable, maybe Lauren could have discussed it with her, but the other woman was so terrifyingly competent, Lauren didn’t want to reveal the horrible mess that was her life.

She’d worked into the night drawing up business plans and Mack had helped her produce a professional-looking document, but it hadn’t been enough to satisfy the bank who had turned down her request for a loan. Although she was deeply disappointed, she could hardly blame them. She had no collateral and no business track record. Given the facts, she probably wouldn’t have loaned herself money either. They’d suggested she talk to her mother about either loaning her the money or acting as guarantor, but Lauren knew neither was an option.

She was going to have to call Miranda back and say she couldn’t take on the project.

That was a call she was dreading on so many levels.

“I should go, Alice.” She turned away, holding back the emotion that threatened a serious assault on her dignity.

The sun was hot and the streets were noticeably busier. The island smelled of summer. The thick scent of colorful blooms mingled with the smell of sunscreen. Summer on the Vineyard meant the shrieks of happy children, strawberries piled like jewels in the farmer’s market, the slow drip of ice cream melting in the heat. It meant cooling dips in the sea, a barefoot run on the beach with a salt breeze cooling your face. It meant sitting on the harbor’s edge eating lobster claws while butter dripped down your chin.

There was a buzz in the air and an energy that was absent in the winter. The population of the island exploded and people moved at a slow summer pace. The locals would mutter and complain and some would secretly wish for the season to be over, but Lauren didn’t wish that.

The Captain’s House had been rented for the whole summer right through until Labor Day and the amount they were earning would enable her mother to stay in it for the winter.

The place wasn’t going to be sold. It was still the Stewart residence, as it had been for well over a century.

She would have felt hopeful for the future, if it weren’t for the meeting she’d had at the bank and the phone call she’d had the night before from London.

What was she going to do if she couldn’t get her business off the ground?

Blinded by the combination of dark glasses and misted vision, she walked slap into someone.