“You have to find Amelia’s biological mother before she finds me,” Mark added. “And once you find her, you have to find a way to discredit her. If this Ashley has prescription medication or mental issues, that could make her an unfit mother, or at least give us some ammunition.
“Ashley may not be the mother.”
“But she might be. Until we know for sure, we need to dig up information on each of the women. I have something to fight with. The more dirt you can get the better. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect Amelia.”
“So will I,” Tyler promised. His niece had already lost her mother, he wouldn’t let Amelia lose her father, too. They deserved to be together. No matter how they’d started out, they were a family now, and if Tyler had anything to say about it, they would stay that way.
The family picture evolved slowly, first the father, then the mother, the son, the daughter, and finally the dog. Ashley stared at the photograph she was developing in her makeshift darkroom, which also served as the bathroom in her one-bedroom apartment. It had been a good day of work. After she’d left the marina, she’d joined the Haroldsons for their family reunion picnic at Stern Grove. She’d snapped a dozen photographs of the large clan and the individual families who had come from far and wide to spend the weekend together playing volleyball, barbecuing burgers, and laughing a lot. The Haroldsons had treated her like part of the family, and she’d enjoyed herself, too.
Stern Grove was a forested area set deep in the center of the island -- no sign of water, just tall trees, thick bushes, and plenty of flowers. It was one of Ashley’s favorite spots, and one she’d photographed many times. She’d had a picnic at Stern Grove with Sean once. They must have been eleven or twelve, and their picnic fare had consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples, and Twinkies. She smiled at the memory, wishing all her memories could be so happy and carefree.
Although, it wasn’t her memories that were the problem these days; it was Sean’s presence on the island. She no longer had the luxury of roaming freely without worrying about running into him. She’d already bumped into him twice in as many days. And, with race week coming up, they’d be crossing each other’s paths constantly. How on earth was she going to handle him?
The doorbell rang, and she started. What if it was Sean? Her pulse sped up at the thought. She wanted to see him almost as much as she didn’t want to see him. But, if it was him, she had to answer the door; she simply could not allow him to go on thinking that she was avoiding him. It made it all seem that much more important. She just had to act casual, as if she didn’t care, as if it really was over between them.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of the darkroom, closing the door behind her. A quick glance at her small apartment reminded her that it was in its usual state of disarray. Her kitchen table was covered with photographs, her coffee table piled high with more of the same. She liked to think of her space as controlled chaos, but in truth it was more chaos than control. Her attention span had never been particularly long; she was known for starting one thing, getting distracted, and never coming back to it. She picked up the half-eaten sandwich she’d made for lunch and tossed it in the wastebasket as she headed for the door.
“I’m coming,” she called. She threw open the door, and her jaw dropped open in surprise, for standing in front of her was the last person she’d ever expected to see, Sean’s mother, Naomi Amberson.
Ashley stared at her in dismay. They’d shared a few brief conversations over the years, even conversed about the weather or some island happening, but they hadn’t had a private discussion in years, and Ashley didn’t particularly want to start now.
“I should have called,” Naomi said, holding her purse tightly in both hands. “But I need to speak to you. It’s important. May I come in?”
“Of course.” Ashley stepped back as Naomi entered the room. A petite brunette, Naomi barely reached five feet. But what she lacked in height, she made up for in the sheer force of her personality. She’d always ruled the Amberson household, despite the fact that her husband and sons topped her by a good twelve inches. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. And what she wanted always had to do with her family’s happiness -- which made Ashley uneasy. Why did Naomi need to speak to her now?
“Do you want to sit down? Can I get you a drink?” Ashley asked.
Naomi shook her head. Standing stiffly in the middle of the living room, she looked as uncomfortable as Ashley felt. “I’ll get right to the point. Sean has signed on to race in the Castleton. I want you to talk him out of it.”
“Me? I can’t talk him out of it.”
“You’re the only one who can.”
“Sean and I aren’t even friends anymore. He’s been gone for years. We barely know each other.”
Naomi dismissed that with a shake of her head. “Sean has been in love with you since he was twelve years old.”
“But that was a long time ago,” Ashley protested, not liking the look in Naomi’s eyes. “We had a teenage crush, that’s it.”
“I know my son. That was never it. But we can argue about that later. Right now, I need you to focus on getting Sean out of that race.” Naomi’s lips drew together in a tight line. “I can’t lose him, Ashley.”
“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” she said tentatively.
“The only way I can be sure is if he doesn’t go. If you were a mother, you’d understand how hard it is to watch your child head straight for danger. I can’t let him do it. Not without trying to stop him. Will you help me?”
Naomi’s pain was so palpable Ashley could feel it coursing straight through her. But she didn’t know what to say. Sean wouldn’t listen to her.
“You’re my only hope,” Naomi continued. “His father and I have tried. Sean seems determined to do this, as some sort of quest to retrace Jeremy’s path. But I don’t want him to go down that path. The sea already took one of my sons; I won’t let it take another. You were out there once, Ashley. You saw how horrible it could be. You saw what the sea could do to a boat and a few men who thought they were invincible.”
Yes, she had seen all that. In fact she still saw it now in her dreams -- in her nightmares.
“I don’t want to lose Sean. I don’t want to spend the next year worrying about whether or not there’s a storm blowing his way. I want him on solid ground. I want him to be safe. Please, Ashley, you have to try.” She could see the desperation in Naomi’s eyes.
“All right. I’ll try,” she replied. “But don’t expect too much.”
She should have been late, Kate thought as she pulled into the parking lot next to the Fisherman restaurant exactly on time. She’d wanted to make Tyler wait for her. He thought he had her pegged, and he was right, dammit. Both her watch and the clock in her car read exactly six o’clock. She was embarrassingly punctual.
Stalling, she tilted the rearview mirror and checked her face one last time. With the blush on her cheeks, the light blue shadow on her lids, and the soft pink on her lips, she almost didn’t recognize herself. Why on earth had she put on makeup for this guy? This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t even a friendly dinner. It was a battle. She couldn’t let herself forget that, couldn’t let herself get lost in a pair of incredible dark blue eyes that reminded her of the waters of the Mediterranean.
Moving the mirror back into place, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Just because she’d agreed to have dinner with Tyler to head him off from other sources didn’t mean he wouldn’t go after Sean or Ashley or Caroline tomorrow. In fact, he probably would. Which meant this dinner was a complete waste of time. Of course, if she were honest, she’d have to admit that having dinner with him appealed to her on a personal level. And, obviously, if having dinner with a reporter was appealing, she needed to get out more. She needed to work on a social life. In truth she was a little lonely. It wasn’t a crime. People got lonely, especially people who’d been working nonstop the past few years.
Maybe she’d call someone tomorrow. Maybe Neal Davis. He’d asked her out before. And be was nice looking, not to mention responsible, decent, kind … boring. Or maybe it was just his job. There wasn’t a lot of excitement in the accounting field. But he did a heck of a job on her books.
No, not Neal. Dating someone who knew her finances wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Connor O’Brien, one of the bartenders at the Oyster Bar. No, she couldn’t date a bartender. Besides, Connor knew her father and had heard many stories about her. How embarrassing would that be?
Maybe dating an out-of-town stranger was a good idea. Someone who wouldn’t be around forever. Not that she was dating Tyler Jamison. Good heavens, where was her mind going?.
Kate banged her head gently against the steering wheel, hoping to knock some sense into herself. She was attracted to Tyler, no doubt about it. But she didn’t want to be attracted, didn’t want little shivers running down her spine. They reminded her of the past, of feelings she didn’t want to feel again. Love hurt. It was an irrefutable, inescapable fact of life. She knew that without a doubt. But she also knew that someday she would have to try again, that she wanted the things that came with love, like marriage and children. She just had to find the right man, one who didn’t sail into the wind, didn’t lead with his heart, didn’t do anything remotely dangerous or risky.
Someone who wasn’t anything like Jeremy.
Eight years had passed, and Jeremy still had a grip on her heart. It was funny, in an odd way, because Jeremy had never been possessive. He’d been too busy leading his own life to worry about what she was doing, who she was seeing. He’d trusted in their love, figured it would always be there.
Even when her father had taken her to sea, Jeremy had assured her that they’d still be together when she got back. He hadn’t worried about anything. He had taken life as it came, and he’d lived every minute of it. He wouldn’t want her wasting her time like this. He’d want her to move on. In fact, he was probably looking down on her right now, tilting his head to the right the way he’d always done when her behavior confused him, muttering, Katie, what are you thinking? Life is going to pass you by while you’re making all your plans.
So, she’d stop making so many plans, stop trying to second-guess Tyler Jamison and his intentions. It was just dinner. She’d survive. And she’d handle whatever came her way. Checking her watch, she was relieved to see a good ten minutes had passed. She was now sociably late. Getting out of her car, she walked into the restaurant, prepared to look like she’d almost forgotten their date.
Kate was disappointed not to find Tyler cooling his heels on one of the nearby benches. She walked into the dining room, a large airy room with windows overlooking the water. Fishnets hung from the ceiling, poles decorated the walls, and photographs of fishermen displaying their prize catches covered every other available space. The room was crowded, but there was no ambitious, handsome reporter at any of the tables.
Tyler could not be late. He wouldn’t take the chance that she’d wait for him. She tapped her foot impatiently as she considered her options. It would serve him right if she left. Then again, she’d just be delaying the inevitable. The sooner she steered Tyler Jamison in another direction, the sooner she could get back to her life. Maybe she’d wait a minute -- or two.
Tyler was running late, but he couldn’t break away from the conversation in the Oyster Bar. He’d gone there to look for Duncan McKenna. Instead he’d run into Ashley’s friend, Sean Amberson. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words when a boisterous crowd at a nearby table captured their attention with swaggering stories of a ferocious storm.
“It was a beautiful spinnaker run down the coast,” one sailor said.
“Magic conditions,” another man added.
“Twenty-four hours later, we had gale force winds of ninety miles per hour and waves eighty feet high.”
“I thought we were going to die.”
A murmur of admiration broke around the table, and more and more people gathered around the group of sailors talking about their experience in the southern seas. Tyler looked to his right where Sean Amberson was perched on a bar stool, nursing his way through yet another beer. He was listening to the stories with an odd look in his eyes, as if a part of him wanted to listen and a part of him didn’t.
“Sounds like a hell of a trip,” Tyler said.
Sean nodded, his face somewhat grim. “My brother, Jeremy, used to talk about the Furious Fifties.”
“The what?”
“Furious Fifties -- the high-latitude zones known for winds gusting to seventy knots. Jeremy said that when you sail through them, you feel like you’re flying.”
“Are you a racer, too?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Sean replied, draining his glass. He set it down on the bar and motioned for the bartender to give him a refill.
Tyler checked his watch. He doubted Kate would wait for him. On the other hand, she was probably late herself; no way would she want to prove him right about her punctuality. But he hated to leave Sean without getting whatever information he could. Maybe it was time to go for the jugular.
“I understand your brother, Jeremy, was one of the sailors lost in the Winston race,” Tyler said.
“That’s right,” Sean said curtly, now eyeing Tyler somewhat suspiciously. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m a reporter. I’m writing a story on sailboat racers. I’m particularly interested in ocean racing and the McKenna family. In fact, I’d like to do a follow-up piece on the sisters and their father.”
“Good luck,” Sean said, a cynical note in his voice.
“Do I need it?”
“With Duncan, no. With the sisters, yes. They don’t talk about the race.”
“Why is that?”
Sean shrugged. “Who knows why they do anything?”
“You’re a friend of theirs, aren’t you? I saw a photograph of you and Ashley taken after the race.”
“I used to be.” Sean’s eyes darkened with something -- regret, anger -- Tyler couldn’t quite tell. “Ashley and I hung out together when we were kids. But when she came back from sailing around the world, it was over. She was a different girl.”