Evening Stars (20 page)

“It must be nice to know what you’re supposed to be doing,” Averil said, her voice wistful. “I was never sure.”

Nina stared at her, not sure if that was the tequila talking, or if Averil was about to spill an unexpected truth.

Her sister picked up her fork, then put it down. “I might as well tell you—there’s no novel.”

Kyle looked confused. Nina leaned close to him. “Averil has been writing a novel for a few years now.”

“Not writing,” her sister corrected. “I’ve taken classes and I have an online critique group. I rarely send pages. I’ve started it a dozen times and I pretend to write, but there’s nothing.”

Bertie and Bonnie exchanged a glance, then Bonnie sighed. “Is it something I did wrong that’s preventing you from writing?”

Averil’s brows drew together. “No, Mom. This is all me. I keep starting projects, but none of them feel right. I get input from different people and then I read their comments and I question my own judgment. Maybe I’m wishing for the moon.”

“Don’t say that,” Bertie told her. “You’ll write a wonderful book someday.”

“I was hoping for something a little sooner than that.”

Bonnie patted her daughter’s hand. “You’ll find your way. You write those great articles. I love reading them.”

“It’s not the same,” Averil told her. “I told everyone I was going to write a novel. Was I lying? Aren’t I willing to do the hard work? And what about the baby?”

Now Nina was the one putting her hand on Kyle’s leg. Talk about an emotional dump.

“You’re pregnant?” Bonnie asked, obviously thrilled.

“No.” Averil sighed. “Kevin wants to and I’m not ready. Why aren’t I?”

“Children are such a job,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “Of course, I love both of mine.”

“They change your lifestyle,” Bertie added. “It’s a lot to think about.”

“I want to feel like I have it all together,” Averil told them. “But at this rate, I’ll never get there.”

“Don’t worry,” Bertie told her soothingly. “No one has it all together. As you age, you get better at faking it. That’s the only difference.”

Kyle picked up his margarita. “Or you figure out what you wanted all along. Like when I was crazy about Nina before. I was right to stalk her. She was totally hot then and she still is.”

“An unrequited love,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “That’s nice.”

“Especially as it’s plenty requited now,” Averil murmured.

“Do I need to start kicking you under the table?” Nina asked sweetly.

Averil grinned.

“So many men from your past,” Bonnie said. “How unexpected.”

“Men?” Kyle raised his eyebrows. “I have competition?”

Not a question Nina planned to answer. Saying yes meant more explanations. Plus, Dylan wasn’t competition. Not exactly. They were friends with a past. She’d loved him once, and losing him had been harder than anything she’d ever been through. But she wasn’t going to say that.

Averil solved the problem. “Nina’s first serious boyfriend moved back to town. Dylan. He’s a doctor.”

“The other man, huh?” Kyle smiled at her. “I should meet him.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Nina said. “We’re friends, nothing more.”

He studied her for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

“It’s not like you don’t have plenty of old girlfriends,” Bertie pointed out. “How interesting if some of them are living on the island. Are they?”

Kyle was drinking as she asked the question. “No,” he started to say, then began to choke.

Averil laughed. “Was that helping, Bertie? Because I’m not sure.”

Bertie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, dear. I think I’ve had too many margaritas.”

Bonnie raised her glass. “Is that possible, my love? To us, family and friends.”

They all repeated the phrase and took a drink. Kyle leaned over to Nina. “You have a great family.”

“You’re not terrified?”

He gave her a quick kiss—one that promised more to come. “Never.”

* * *

Nina had always been a baby-lover. She liked how they smelled and the way their little bodies felt when she rocked them in her arms. But after a morning of crying babies, she was starting to rethink her career choice.

As yet more shrill cries carried through the office, she hurried into the break room and pulled open the cabinet door. The ibuprofen bottle looked less full than it had a few days ago. Obviously she wasn’t the only one with a headache.

She took the two pills, then walked into the hallway. Andi stepped out from an examination room.

“Never again,” she said. “I know it was my idea, but next time, tell me no.”

“You know I will,” Nina told her.

Andi had thought it would be good to have all the babies come in on the same day. Vaccinations, well-baby visits and the like. The theory was the visits would go smoothly because everyone was dealing with a specific age group. The reality was one baby started crying, which set the others off.

Holly, their receptionist, entered the hallway.

“Can you come help?” she asked Nina. “Boston is here and says her little girl won’t stop crying.”

“I can see her,” Andi said.

“You have three more appointments.” Nina pointed toward the first examination room. “If I can’t handle it, I’ll come get you.”

Andi hesitated. Nina understood—Andi and Boston were friends. But they were packed with appointments and already running about twenty minutes behind.

“Trust me,” she said.

Andi nodded and went in to see the next patient. Nina followed Holly to the waiting room.

Two other mothers sat there, crying babies in their arms. The sound seemed to vibrate off walls and furniture. Nina wasn’t a big believer in auras and energy, but she was wondering if baby day was cursed somehow.

“I don’t know what to do,” Boston said, her face pale. “She won’t stop crying. She doesn’t have a fever, and she’s eating all right, but I’m getting scared.”

A reaction Nina understood. Boston and her husband had lost a baby a couple of years before. He’d had an undiagnosed heart condition and had passed away in her arms. When their little girl had been born, she’d been tested for nearly everything possible, but under the circumstances, Boston was more sensitive than most to anything out of the ordinary.

Nina took the baby and rocked her. She gently slipped her finger into the little girl’s mouth and rubbed her gums. The crying faded.

“What did you do?” Boston asked frantically.

“She’s teething. It’s a long, ugly process, I’m sorry to say. Let me get you some information on what’s happening and how to soothe her.”

Nina handed the baby back, and she instantly began to cry louder.

Boston’s face crumpled. “She hates me.”

Nina’s headache clicked up a notch. This had the potential to be a very long day.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Nina told her.

She was saved from having to figure out what else to say by the front door opening and Dylan walking in. He smiled when he saw her, but quickly turned his attention to Boston.

“Sounds like someone’s unhappy,” he said.

“She hates me,” Boston said, tears filling her eyes.

“No, she’s probably teething.” He moved toward her and shifted her hands on her baby. “Hold her this way. There are pressure points that help infants relax.”

As he spoke, he shifted Boston’s hands a few millimeters and then pressed on a few of her fingers.

“Like that,” he said, as the crying softened.

“Oh, wow. Look. She feels better.” Boston sniffed. “Thank you.”

Dylan nodded and moved to another mother. He showed her the same move. The third baby quieted on his own.

Nina stared at him. “Where did you learn that?”

He grinned. “Where I learned everything I know about babies and childbirth. From a midwife. She had to be at least ninety. I stayed with her for about three months. She was crotchety, but for some reason she took a liking to me and taught me more than I ever learned in medical school.”

“You are so hired,” Andi said, from the entrance to the waiting room. “And you’re going to come by later and show me how to do that.”

“Sure thing, if I can borrow Nina for a couple of minutes now.”

Andi nodded, even as she raised her eyebrows. Nina knew there would have to be an explanation later.

“What’s up?” she asked as she led Dylan into the break room.

He surprised her by closing the door behind them, then turning to her. She was about to ask what was going on, but suddenly his hands were on her waist and he was pulling her toward him.

She went because she was too surprised to move away. Without meaning to, she found herself putting her hands on his chest, which was broader and more muscled than she remembered.

He’d filled out, she thought hazily. Finishing growing up in the time they’d been apart. He felt nice and—

His mouth settled on hers. She didn’t have any warning, and once she realized he was kissing her, she couldn’t figure out if she minded or not.

This was Dylan. Her first love, her first time, her first broken heart. Familiar and different all at once. His mouth explored hers with a thorough easiness that had her relaxing. Her fingers found their way to the back of his neck. Her body leaned into his, even as she let her lips soften and accept the warm pressure of his.

He tilted his head. She felt the first brush of his tongue against hers, not exactly sure how things had gotten that far. They weren’t dating, so why were they kissing?

But as he explored her mouth, she felt heat pouring through her. Once again, as she remembered and yet completely different. This Dylan was just different enough to keep her off balance.

He drew back and sucked in a breath. “That’s not why I stopped by.”

Nina found herself wanting to ask “Why not?” Talk about baffling. She dropped her arms to her side and retreated to the safety of the counter. She leaned against it in an effort to regain her balance. She wasn’t sure which was more surprising— that Dylan had kissed her or that her head was spinning.

She was with Kyle.
They
were the dating couple. She and Dylan were friends. Just friends. Friends didn’t kiss like that. At least she didn’t.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m guessing it wasn’t to show off your baby whisperer skills, either.”

That earned her a smile. “No,” he admitted. “I came by because of the painting.”

“What painting?”

“The ugly one with the great frame. I kept thinking about it.”

“Why? Are you saying you’re scarred by the hideousness of it?”

“No.” He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and touched the screen. “There was something about it that seemed familiar. It took me a while to find what it was.”

He turned the phone toward her and showed her a picture of another painting. One that looked eerily similar to what Bonnie had purchased on her trip. The colors were in the same family, but what really caught her attention was the face made out of boxes.

“There’s more?” she asked. “Why would anyone do that? It’s so weird. Are there like six ears?”

She realized that maybe she was missing the point. “Where did you find that?” She felt her eyes widen. “You’re not saying it’s by someone famous. It can’t be, can it?”

He shrugged. “I think it is.”

She drew in a breath and emotionally braced herself. “Who painted that one?” she asked, pointing at his phone.

“Emilion Stoicasescu.”

“Who?” she asked, even as the name nibbled at the back of her mind. She held up a hand. “He’s dead and was sort of a famous artist. He has a daughter or granddaughter who does maybe sculpture?”

“Caterina is his granddaughter. Emilion was a protégé of Picasso.”

“Okay, well, good to know.”

Dylan touched her arm. “You don’t get it, Nina. Emilion Stoicasescu isn’t in Picasso’s league, but he’s well-known. His paintings are worth a fortune.”

She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “How much is a fortune?”

“From what I found online, his last painting to go to auction sold for ten million dollars.”

Chapter Fourteen

AVERIL WATCHED AS Nina carefully locked the front door of the store. Her sister had called earlier and said they had to talk. Privately. Which meant not at home where Bonnie could bounce into one of their rooms at any moment.

Averil wasn’t sure which was the most troubling—Nina’s insistence on absolute privacy or describing their mother as “bouncing.” Bonnie moved with enthusiasm, but it wasn’t as if she were spastic.

Of course a greater point could be made that Bonnie wasn’t at the store. As she was the owner, one would think she would spend her days here. But she never did—which was part of the reason Blackberry Preserves had never done much more than lurch along. No one had cared enough to provide continuity.

Averil’s laptop sat open on the counter. She’d decided to try writing in the store, to see if some of the old pieces would inspire her. So far she’d managed to write five pages which could have been the start of a novel, only she’d deleted them all. The problem was she didn’t know what she wanted to write about. The old advice of “write what you know” seemed ridiculous. What did she know that was anything anyone would want to read? Or even different? Her life was just like everyone else’s. Where was the special in that?

Nina crossed the now-closed store and stood in front of the counter. “I have to tell you something.”

“I guessed that. You’re eloping with Kyle.”

Her sister—blond and curvy with a quiet sex appeal Averil had always envied—stared at her as if she’d suddenly started speaking in German.

“What? No. Kyle? I wouldn’t elope and I certainly wouldn’t elope with him.”

“Why not? He’s adorable. All that energy. Plus he’s crazy about you. And you have all that history.”

“He had a thing for me when he was twelve. That’s not exactly a foundation for a solid relationship.”

Averil smiled, aware she was pulling her sister off topic. While it wasn’t an amazing achievement, it was still satisfying. Nina was always so damned together. It helped to take small victories wherever possible.

“He never forgot you,” Averil pointed out. “Doesn’t that say something about his emotional staying power? I can’t speak to his other attributes, although based on how your skin is glowing, I’ll guess they’re pretty good, too.”