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  Jessica’s smile brightened again as she took both boxes in her arms. “Emily, you didn’t have to get us anything.”

  “Of course I did, silly. I bought both at the Bramble, so you can exchange them if they aren’t right.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be perfect,” Jessica said. “Let me put these down, and I’ll get you something to drink.”

  “Oh, I can help myself. You must have things to do. I’ll find you later,” Emily promised.

  “The drinks and hors d’oeuvres are over there.” Jessica nodded toward a long table against the windows. She turned and headed in the opposite direction. “If you see Sam around, tell him he needs to come help.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Emily answered, thinking with amusement that Jessica already sounded very married.

  “There you are, Em. I knew you’d make it sooner or later.” Emily turned to see her good friend, Betty Bowman. “Let me guess,” Betty said. “Your mother called with a last-minute emergency?”

  “Of course. What else?” Emily replied with a grin. “Lillian is nothing if not reliable.”

  “At least you got here. I think Jessica was starting to worry,” Betty confided. She smiled at Emily with an appraising glance. “That color looks great on you. New dress?”

  “Yes, it is. Thanks.”

  The plum-colored wrap dress wasn’t Emily’s usual style, but the saleswoman had pressed her to try it. The simple lines suited her slim figure, and the rich color brought out her blue eyes and short, reddish-brown hair.

  “I found a great sale up in Newburyport,” Emily told her. “At that boutique at the end of Lowell Street.”

  “They’ve got great stuff,” Betty agreed. “And you probably need things for the campaign now, with all the appearances and socializing, I mean. How’s it going so far?”

  “It’s a bit early to tell. As well as can be expected, I guess.”

  “I know you’ll win it, Emily, but I’m thinking of joining your reelection committee. I’d like to help if I can.”

  Emily was touched by the offer. “Thanks, Betty. Are you sure you can spare the time?”

  “I always manage. Besides, you know how I feel about Charlie Bates,” she added quietly. “So I consider it a good investment of time.”

  Every inch a businesswoman, that was Betty, Emily realized. Time was a valuable commodity to be invested carefully for a good return.

  “We’ll be lucky to have you. Warren Oakes is the chairperson this year. I’ll let him know you’re joining up.”

  “Have him call me at the office, and I’ll get up to speed. Oh . . . there’s Dan.” Betty’s gaze suddenly shifted across the room and settled on Dan Forbes. “I need to speak with him about something. I’ll catch you later, Em.”

  As Betty crossed the room, Emily noticed that her friend looked terrific in a slim-fitting red wool suit and black heels, her blond hair barely brushing her shoulders in a smart blunt cut. Betty was a hometown girl, who had left New England for many years before recently returning with her teenage son. But she’d never lost the aura of the most popular girl in high school—head cheerleader, even class president their senior year.

  Was Betty dating Dan? Emily wondered. Betty hadn’t mentioned it, but as she watched them now, talking intently, she wondered. Tall, with dark blond hair gone partly gray, Dan was attractive, Emily had to admit. Jogging and sailing kept him lean and fit. His work as owner and editor in chief of the Messenger, the town’s local newspaper, kept his wit sharp, his conversation lively and challenging. Emily could see why Betty would like him, why most single women her age would, herself included.

  But I’m not included, Emily chided herself. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that relationships just didn’t work out for her. Long ago she’d given up even trying. She had too much baggage, too much unfinished business, too many regrets that quickly smothered the spark of anything new.

  Deliberately turning away from Betty and Dan, Emily went over to the table of appetizers and began making a careful selection.

  “No stuffed mushrooms, dear?” Sophie Potter asked, appearing at Emily’s side. “I made them myself.”

  “In that case, I’ll take two.” Emily added the mushrooms to her plate, then smiled at Sophie as she took a bite. “Delicious, as usual.”

  “Thank you, dear. I added a little something different this time. Not that I can tell you what, mind you,” she warned.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of asking,” Emily replied around a mouthful.

  Sophie Potter was the finest cook for miles around, certainly in the village of Cape Light. Notoriously secretive about her recipes, she claimed she was writing a cookbook, though Emily had heard Sophie say that ever since she was a little girl. Emily had a soft spot for Sophie. She and her husband, Gus, had gone out of their way to show kindness and sympathy to the Warwicks during their trouble, Emily recalled, unlike many others in town who seemed almost pleased to see her father disgraced and their prominent family brought down. While her mother had never really acknowledged Sophie’s generous spirit, Emily considered her a dear old friend.

  “I’m glad your sister finally came to her senses and decided to marry Sam Morgan,” Sophie confided. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You can’t fight love, no matter how you try. Like Gus and me,” she added, nodding sagely.

  “Where is Gus?” Emily asked, gazing around.

  “Oh, didn’t you hear? Gus is sick. Doctor says it’s bronchitis now.” Sophie shook her head.

  “That’s too bad. I’m so sorry. How is he feeling?”

  “Not his best. But it’s his spirits being low as much as anything. He feels his age finally catching up, I guess.” Sophie sighed, her mouth set in a thin, tight line. “I’m just praying to get through the picking season and then the winter. When the spring comes, we’ll have to see what we’re going to do, I guess.”

  Emily knew she meant that they might give up the orchard. It was such a sad prospect, it was hard to say outright. For Emily it was impossible to imagine the village without Potter Orchard. But it was doubtful that the Potters would find a buyer for the place who would keep it unchanged. Emily knew that Betty often got calls from developers who had their eye on the land.

  “Well, a lot can happen between now and spring,” Emily said encouragingly.

  “Quite so, dear,” Sophie agreed, her expression a bit brighter. “And none of us knows what the good Lord has in store for us, do we?”

  “That’s the one thing that seems certain,” Emily agreed wryly. She could never have imagined the course her own life had taken, so different from her dreams and plans.

  Just then Jessica came toward them, carrying a platter of poached salmon. “I guess this can fit here,” she said to Sam’s sister, Molly Willoughby, who followed close behind carrying a platter of ham.

  “I’ll put the ham here, then,” Molly said.

  “I’ll put the turkey on the end,” Joe Morgan, Sam’s father, added as he brushed by with another huge platter.

  His wife, Marie, a small dark-haired woman with Sam’s dark eyes, marched past with a large bowl of green salad and smiled a greeting at Emily.

  “Can I help?” Emily asked.

  “I think we’ve got it covered,” Jessica replied. She looked back at the table and seemed to be checking off a list in her mind. “Roasted potatoes . . . I must have left them in the oven.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get them,” Molly offered, turning back toward the kitchen with a rueful shake of her head. “Crisp-but-not-forgotten potatoes, I guess we’ll call them,” Emily heard her mutter under her breath.

  Emily noticed Marie step up to her husband and pat his shoulder as he hovered over the platters. A professional chef, Joe couldn’t resist arranging each tray just so. “Come on, Joe,” Marie said. “Everything looks beautiful. Let the people have their dinner.”

  “All right. I give up.” Joe turned to his wife and future daughter-in-law, his hands lifted in surrender.
“Let them at it.”

  “Everything does look great,” Jessica praised. “Thank you both so much,” she added, turning to Joe and then Marie. “I could never have done this alone.”

  It was true, too, Emily knew. It was nice to see that Sam’s family had gotten so involved. Whatever reservations they might have had about the match—and Emily knew even Sam’s warmhearted parents had harbored a few—the Morgans seemed to accept Jessica as part of the family simply because Sam loved her so much.

  How different they were from her mother, Emily reflected unhappily.

  “Everything looks perfect, Jessica,” Emily assured her. “The food, the flowers, the candles all around. Too bad—” Too bad Mother didn’t come, she was about to say. Then caught herself. She didn’t want to bring down Jessica’s buoyant mood.

  “Too bad . . . what?” Jessica stared at her, questioning.

  “Too bad I couldn’t get here sooner, to help you. Why don’t you show me the house?” Emily said, wanting to distract her. “I haven’t been here for weeks, and you two have obviously done a lot of work since then.”

  “Sure, let’s go upstairs first,” Jessica said, leading the way through her guests.

  Emily followed her up the L-shaped staircase. “This banister is gorgeous,” Emily commented, running her hand along the smooth polished wood.

  “Thanks, but it’s only halfway done, see?” Jessica pointed out the spot where the finished wood ended. “There are still so many bigger things to work on, I get distracted.”

  “It may take years before you’re really finished renovating this house,” Emily remarked as they reached the top of the staircase.

  “Please. Don’t remind me,” Jessica said with a laugh. “Sometimes I worry that Sam and I will be married, and we’ll still be living in our own apartments because this place will still be a complete mess.”

  Emily met her sister’s eye and smiled. She knew how organized and particular her sister could be, her efficient personality well suited to working in a bank. Moving into this work-in-progress was a stretch for her. But that’s part of getting married, Emily reflected, being willing to stretch your boundaries for the sake of the one you love.

  “Sounds like I should have gotten you a framed copy of The Serenity Prayer,” Emily teased as she followed Jessica to the center hall at the top of the stairs.

  “Believe me, I already know it by heart.” Jessica opened a nearby door and turned on the light, a bare bulb that hung by some wires from the ceiling.

  “We haven’t done much with this spare room. Just built a big closet on that wall. It could be a guest room, we thought . . . or a nursery,” she added, glancing quickly at her sister.

  The image of her own child rose in Emily’s mind, the baby she’d been forced to give up for adoption more than twenty years ago. The memory brought a stab of pain, and she forced it away.

  “Our bedroom is just about done,” Jessica said, leading the way toward a larger room at the front of the house. “All we have to do to it is paint—if we can ever agree on the color.”

  “This is great.” Emily gazed around, admiring the large room. The woodwork and floors were beautifully refinished, and a set of large French doors in the center of one wall lent an elegant, graceful touch.

  “Sam finally fixed the balcony,” Jessica added, opening the doors and stepping outside. “Here, take a look.”

  Emily gazed out at the surrounding woods, then up at the starry sky, and took a deep breath. The September night air was pleasantly cool and smelled like fallen leaves and wood smoke. “Oh, this is fantastic. I bet you’ll love sitting out here, just looking at the stars.”

  “We already do,” Jessica confided with a small smile.

  Emily could just imagine it. She felt happy for her sister. Truly happy. But she felt a pang of sadness for herself as well.

  She was alone and would always be, it seemed. Taking care of her mother, carrying on in her job, going to church—those duties filled her life. There was no husband or children in her future. The role of adoring aunt is the best I can hope for now, Emily told herself as she followed Jessica back inside.

  “What about those other rooms across the hall?” Emily asked, shrugging off her dark thoughts.

  “Oh, there’s not much to see yet. I’m going to turn one into an office for myself, I think. But that’s last on our list right now. We just want to get the main rooms ready in time. Oh, for goodness’ sake. I never told you.” Jessica pressed her hand to her cheek, her eyes wide. “We finally settled on our date. It’s November nineteenth,” she announced excitedly. “We found a really nice inn in Southport. It’s right on the water, and even Sam’s father approves of the food.”

  “But that’s just ten weeks away,” Emily said, a little startled.

  “I know. That’s the only date they had free for the next six months, so we grabbed it. Luckily Reverend Ben had the date open, too. Maybe you can go over there with me next week and take a look, help me figure things out? They have so many questions. . . . I was pretty overwhelmed,” Jessica confessed. “And Sam doesn’t have much interest in the small details.”

  “Of course I can go. I’d love to help plan the party,” Emily gave Jessica’s hand a squeeze.

  Jessica had already asked her to be the maid of honor, and while Emily wanted to do anything she could to help her sister, they both knew that planning the reception was something Jessica should be doing with their mother.

  “We don’t have much time to pick out bridesmaid dresses, either,” Jessica added. “But I think I found one on the Net.”

  Internet bridesmaid dresses? It sounded dreadful, but Emily wanted to be supportive. “You have great taste,” she assured Jessica. “I’m sure you’ll find something nice.”

  “There’s just so much to do. And the house, too,” Jessica said. “Sometimes I don’t know how I’ll ever get it all done.”

  “Oh, you will,” Emily assured her. “One way or another.” Jessica sounded worried, but happily so. These were good problems. The kind you want.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BACK DOWNSTAIRS JESSICA CHECKED IN ON THE kitchen while Emily wandered over to the buffet table set against a large bay window. She picked up a dish and silverware and got in line, then realized Dr. Ezra Elliot was standing in front of her.

  “Hello, Ezra,” Emily greeted. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

  “I don’t usually go to parties. But I didn’t want to disappoint your sister.”

  As usual, Dr. Elliot looked dapper, in a gray wool suit and vest, a pale blue button-down shirt, and a red-and-blue striped bow tie. He had been their family doctor for as long as Emily could remember and more than that, a trusted family friend. So much like family, in fact, that Jessica had asked him to give her away at the wedding. He was among the few in town still close to their mother and practically her only company since her stroke had kept her mostly housebound. They enjoyed their verbal sparring matches, Emily knew. Furthermore, Ezra seemed to be the only one who could challenge her mother and win.

  “At my age it’s good to get out and be in company,” he added, glancing around. “Even if it feels like an effort lately.”

  Something in his tone prickled Emily’s intuition. “How is your retirement going? Enjoying it?”

  He looked over the platters of food, then lifted a few slices of turkey to his plate. “Frankly, it’s starting to wear on my nerves. All this free time with no appointments and nobody calling me in the middle of the night. I don’t even have to worry about the cottages anymore, since I sold the property to McAllister.”

  “How is Luke McAllister doing? I understand he’s living out there now,” Emily said.

  “I drop by from time to time, to say hello. It’s hard to say what he’s up to.” Ezra shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to have any plans, far as I can see.”

  Suddenly Betty appeared beside them. “Sorry to butt in, but I just heard you mention Luke McAllister. Somebody told me they heard he was pl
anning to renovate. Maybe build more cottages or even a motel unit?”

  “Really? Where did you hear that?” Emily asked her friend.

  Betty shrugged. “Just around, you know,” she replied, unwilling to say. “Is it true?”

  “He never mentioned anything like that to me,” Dr. Elliot said. “Though I can’t say I’m exactly close friends with him.”

  “I don’t think anyone in town knows him very well,” Betty noted. “Which seems to be the way he likes it.”

  “He’s an odd one, all right.” Harry Reilly stood behind Betty and now leaned over to join the conversation. “I heard he was going to sell the land again, just bought it to turn over.” Harry owned a boatyard near the harbor and knew nearly everyone in town. He was a taciturn man, usually not the gossiping type. “This McAllister fellow is sort of shady, if you ask me. You know what they say about him—kicked off the police force in Boston. Who knows what he’s been involved in or what he’s up to.”

  “I heard he was shot in the line of duty and then quit due to injuries,” Emily offered. Tucker Tulley, a local police officer, had been spreading that version of Luke’s past, relaying information he had from friends on the Boston police force.

  “That’s what I heard, too,” Betty agreed. “And that he had some sort of drinking problem. But when I dealt with him during the sale, he told me he wanted the land for . . . well, sentimental reasons. He said he spent the summers here as a boy, at Dr. Elliot’s cottages.”

  “Said the same to me,” Dr. Elliot added. “Of course, it could be a lot of reasons. He could have an attachment to the property and still turn it into some tacky roadside attraction.”

  “Or sell it to a developer,” Harry added gruffly.

  “I think I’ll just call him and ask if he plans to sell again,” Betty said, picking up a dish and silverware. “That’s one way to find out.”

  “Yes, it is,” Emily replied. She hoped Luke didn’t plan on selling the land. Not until the election was over, at any rate. When Dr. Elliot had first put the land up for sale a few months ago, Charlie Bates had worked the entire town into a lather about the situation, filling people’s heads with exaggerated half-truths and paranoid fears.