Nantucket Sisters (27 page)

“My God, Tyler. I can’t believe it.”

He smiles, but he’s changed, become an adult, and now he rolls his eyes. “Enough. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Oh, nothing, cleaning houses. Living at the farm, which we might as well call The Convent—it’s all women, my grandmother,
mother, me, and Heather.” Her heart stops. “Are
you
married?” A guy who looks like this? He’s married.

“Nope.” Tyler’s head is bent as he fastens his seat belt.

“No way. Engaged?”

“Nope.” Seemingly determined not to meet her eyes, Tyler focuses on untwisting the belt.

“Why not?”

“I’ve been too busy.” He clicks the seat belt fastened. “How’s your mom? How’s Ben?”

“He’s good. But he’s changed.” She can’t talk fast enough, she has so much to tell him. “All he wants is to get rich.”

“And is he rich?”

“Oh, yes. He lives in the Orange Street house.” Seeing Tyler’s expression, she admits, “It’s taken a long time, but we’ve finally sorted it all out: Mom, Clarice, Heather, and I have moved from the Orange Street house to the farm. Ben and I did all the legal paperwork, and now the Orange Street house is his, the farm mine. It was pretty difficult, convincing Clarice to leave her beloved home, but she’s older now, and aware that it’s better for her to live with us. She’d lived on the farm years before, when Thaddeus was born, and she loves it there, too.”

“But why does Ben live in the Orange Street house?”

“Ben is now—wait for it—a real estate broker. He tried working as a stockbroker for a while, but Ben will never be a desk man, and he wasn’t any good at it. He considered selling the Orange Street house, which would give him a fat chunk of money, but he needs a house of his own—he wouldn’t want to live with us at the farm, how could he bring home his thousands of women? So he got his Realtor’s license, joined a brokerage firm, and is doing quite well. He insists he’s working for the island as well as for himself, showing people places that are already built, not showing them land we all hope will be kept open.” Maggie stops to catch her breath. “Tyler,
how is your mother? I know she married Clary Able and they moved off island—was it to Boston?”

“Portland. Look, I have appointments to look at some apartments, but can you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m your chauffeur for the day.”

“Could I borrow your car instead? I want to concentrate on business, and you’re interfering with my focus.”

“Can’t let that happen to an optometrist,” Maggie jokes. She’s light-headed.

Tyler drops Maggie at the farm before driving off to check out rental spaces, commercial and residential.

Maggie searches out Frances and finds her in her sewing room, embroidering.

“Mom, you’ll never believe it! I just picked up Tyler from the boat, and he’s
gorgeous
!”

Frances pushes her sewing glasses up onto her forehead, leans back in her chair, and closes her eyes. “Tyler Madison. Smart boy. One of your best friends. His mother and father divorced … and then they both left the island, right?”

“Right. But Tyler’s an optometrist now—”

“That’s not surprising.”

“—and he’s going to practice on the island!”

“Good for him. I’d like to see him.”

“I’ll bring him in later. He’s driving my car to some appointments. He’s picking me up for dinner at six.” Maggie clutches her hair. “You can babysit Heather, right? She’s at Kerrie’s for a playdate with Marina. Kerrie can drive her home. I’ve got to do something about my hair.”

“A change of clothes might be good, too,” Frances suggests, smiling.

In her bedroom, Maggie pauses to check herself out in the mirror. Over the past four years, she’s been too busy being what Virginia Woolf called “the essential angel of the house”—meaning doing most of the grocery shopping, caring for her baby, caring for Clarice. She’s hung out with girlfriends for fun, and she’s written a few articles for
Nantucket Glossy
during the summer. On winter evenings, she works on her novel. All in all, not a lifestyle requiring any sort of glamour.

She showers, washes her hair, blows it dry, taming it with hot rollers while she applies eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush, lip gloss, reminding herself that this isn’t a
date
, this is dinner with Tyler, an old friend. Still, she pulls on her sexiest dress, the red one that plunges low over her bosom.

When she opens the door to Tyler’s knock, he whistles. “Wow. You’re all grown up.”

“Come in. Mom wants to see you.” Maggie can tell she’s blushing at his compliment. Blushing because of Tyler?
Whoa
.

While Tyler and Frances and Clarice chat, Maggie waits impatiently, trying not to wriggle. Heather has been asked to spend the night at Kerrie’s. Maggie’s disappointed because she wants Tyler to see her beautiful daughter, but also rather relieved, because with one more person to drool over Tyler, they’d never escape this house and be alone.

She clears her throat. Tyler glances at his watch. “Sorry,” he says to Frances and Clarice, “I’ve made a reservation for seven.”

“Have fun,” Frances tells them, eyes twinkling.

As they walk out to Maggie’s Bronco, Tyler tosses Maggie the keys. “Thanks for loaning it to me.”

“Did you have any luck?” Maggie asks as they drive into town.

“Great luck,” Tyler tells her. “Dawn Holdgate showed me several places. I think I’ve found an excellent location for my office, on North Beach Street, within walking distance of town.”

“Which building?”

“Across from the Harbor House.”

“Oh, I know which one you mean.”

“The rent is reasonable, too.”

“Did you find an apartment?” As she drives, Maggie’s aware that Tyler’s angled in his seat so he can look at her while they talk. She can’t believe how nervous this makes her. She has to concentrate to find the restaurant she’s frequented for years.

“I found two that will work. One’s more than I wanted to pay, but it’s close to the office space.”

They park on India Street, walk to the Boarding House, and are ushered to a table in the corner. Other diners glance up as they come in, but to Maggie’s relief, no one recognizes Tyler, so she can have him all to herself.

After they order drinks, Maggie says, “Now. Tell me everything.”

His mouth (his beautiful mouth!) quirks up in a half-smile. “Which everything?”

“Any serious romances?” she asks boldly.

“One. Penelope. Three years.” He smiles wryly. “A college thing, you know.”

She asks, “Where’s Penelope now?”

“Australia.”

“Ah.” Maggie can’t help smiling. “Good place for her.”

He laughs. Does he find her attractive? Can he tell Maggie’s going wild?

“You obviously had a serious romance,” Tyler remarks.

“I did?” She’s so flustered she can’t think straight.

“Well, you have a daughter,” Tyler reminds her.

Maggie throws her head back and laughs full-heartedly. “Honestly, Tyler? It was a one-night stand. I was such a fool, but I got Heather out of it, and I’m glad. Heather is my pride and joy, sweet and smart—oh, I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Weren’t you dating Shane Anderson?”

“I can’t believe you remember that. Yes. Yes, I did date him, and he’s a nice guy. But not the one for me. He’s married now. He and his wife have twins.”

Their meals are set before them. For a few moments they concentrate on their scallops and steak, but the mood between them changes.

Their eyes meet. Maggie feels her protective façade melt in the face of her good old friend. “Tyler? I know this is weird, but I feel kind of shy around you. You’re so handsome. I can’t believe that you’re you.”

Tyler leans back in his chair and considers her words. “Maybe I’m not the me I used to be. Actually, I hope I’m
not
the me I used to be. I was awfully isolated, Maggie, when I was a kid. It was hard, being such a dork. Plus, with both my parents finding other partners, having other kids … I became a real loner.”

Maggie nods. “You stopped emailing me. We lost touch.” She smiles at him. “But you’ve
changed
.”

“The changes didn’t take place overnight, Maggie. The eye operations were hard. Having surgery isn’t fun, wondering if you’ll be able to see normally is scary. I had a few years of real misery. Plus, braces. Damn, they hurt.”

“Could you tell me about your operations, Tyler? I’d like to hear about them. Really.”

His eyes are meltingly deep. Slowly he straightens and smiles. “Sure. I’ll tell you about them. But not tonight, not over this delicious meal. I want to enjoy myself.” He cuts off a bite of steak and chews it. “Let’s focus on you. What about your writing?”

The mood changes to a brighter, lighter tone. “Oh, Tyler, I have such fun in the summer, going to galas for
Nantucket Glossy
. Some summer people are snobs who don’t give a fig about the island, I
know, but some are really nice. A lot of them are truly generous to the island institutions. I enjoy interviewing most of them.”

“And your novel?”

“I work on it in the off-season. But taking care of Heather has been my priority. The first couple of years I could hardly take my eyes off her. She’s the most beautiful, magical, darling, and fast-moving thing I’ve ever seen.” Thinking about Heather makes Maggie glow. “She is my one true love.”

“Really?” Tyler raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Really what?”

“She is your one true love?”

Maggie stirs her pasta with her fork. “You know what I mean.”

“No grown-up, male one true loves?”

Maggie deliberately takes a bite of pasta and chews, giving Tyler an insolent look. All at once she feels flirtatious. Maggie’s emotions are taking her on a carnival ride, one of those centrifugal force things; she has no idea what’s going on, but she feels as if she’s whirling around ten feet in the air. Such a mix of childish responses to this old friend, plus a tsunami of entirely new adult physical flashes.

“Maybe. Maybe I’ve had several grown-up, male one true loves,” she says mischievously.

Tyler responds by saying nothing, only staring at her with his beautiful, dark intense eyes.

“Okay, fine.” Maggie takes a sip of wine. “No, I’ve never truly been in love. Have you?”

Tyler smiles enigmatically. “Yes. For almost all my life.”

Maggie’s heart skips a beat.

Tyler leans forward. “I want to ask you something, well, personal.”

Maggie nearly stops breathing. “All right.”

“Do you still have
The Official Register of Secrets
?”

It takes her brain a beat or two to switch tracks. “Well,
of course
I do.”

His face lights up. “That’s great. But I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“I thought since you had to move from Thaddeus’s house, you might have chucked it out with any other miscellaneous junk.”

“Hey! That masterpiece? It was never junk!”

With a lopsided smile and a shrug, he says, “We were silly kids when I wrote it.”

The waitress appears, setting the bill on the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We’re ready now.” Tyler looks at his watch. “I’d better not be late to the airport.” Pulling a credit card from his wallet, he hands it to the waitress, who goes off. He leans forward again. “Know what I’d like to do?”

Kiss me
? Maggie thinks.
Go to bed
? Damn, she is
giddy
. “What?”

“I’d like to go for a nice long walk over the moors, with
The Official Register of Secrets
, checking out the old rocks and trees and ponds and stuff.”

“Oh.”

The waitress returns. Tyler scribbles on the credit receipt, takes his credit card, and sticks it in his wallet. “I’m coming back this Thursday. I need to start organizing my move here. How about Sunday?”

Maggie blinks. “How about Sunday what?”

“To spend a day with me on the moors? We could take a picnic.” He checks his watch, pushes back his chair, and rises.

He moves with such authority, Maggie thinks, He’s become such a
man
. “Lord Boulder,” she says, grinning. “Princess Pond!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sunday afternoon, Maggie and Tyler spend hours walking over the moors, checking out boulders, rocks, ponds, and trees. Tyler scarcely speaks, and Maggie, understanding his silent communion with the sacred places of his youth, respects his need for silence.

By the time they return to the car, it’s too cold to stay out any longer, and the light’s fading, so they bump over the rutted dirt lanes back to the main roads and to Tyler’s hotel room. They set out the bread, cheese, and wine left over from their picnic. Tyler moves a chair so they can both sit at the small round table while Maggie pours the wine.

“I can’t believe how many new houses there are on the island,” Tyler says.

Maggie looks at his hands, pale and long, covered with fine brown hairs. His nails are long and rounded and clean. “I don’t mind the number as much as how gigantic they are,” Maggie tells him. “And the way they’re situated on the land, as if saying,
Forget about the beautiful land. Look at me!
But never mind.” She taps her glass against his. “A toast. Good luck. I’m glad you’re moving back.”

Tyler smiles. “Because I respect the island?”

Something about the way he’s looking at her makes her breath catch. “Well …
sure
.”

“Is that the only reason?” Tyler asks, as if in jest, but Maggie believes she senses something in his eyes that assures her his question isn’t frivolous.

“Tyler, you’re confusing me,” she tells him, her voice louder than she means it to be.

“I am?”

“Yes, you are! I mean, we’re friends, and we haven’t seen each other for a long time, and here you are back again, and I don’t feel
friendly
at all.”

He smiles. He reaches out and takes her glass, which is a good thing, because she’s started to tremble so much she’s about to slosh wine on the rug. “How
do
you feel?” he asks.

“How do
you
feel?” she shoots back.