“Are you interested in a house?” Nola said as she took a seat behind her massive desk.
“No, actually.” Gina pulled her gaze away from the photograph to look at the Realtor. She sat on the edge of her chair, her damp palms cupping her bare knees. “I’m interested in the Kiss River lighthouse.”
“Kiss River?” Nola looked surprised, her gray eyes wide. “Interested in it in what way?”
“I’d like to see the lens rescued from the bottom of the ocean and displayed someplace where the public could enjoy it,” Gina said.
“Ah.” Nola leaned back in her chair, nodding. “Are you the friend Lacey was trying to find a rental for?”
Gina nodded. “Yes. I’m staying at the keeper’s house for now.”
“I see. I guess Lacey told you that I had been on the Save the Lighthouse committee long ago. Before the storm.”
“Her father … Dr. O’Neill, told me, actually.”
“Really?” Nola looked surprised by that. “I didn’t think he cared about Kiss River anymore.”
“Well, I don’t think he does,” Gina said. “That’s why he told me to contact you.” Not quite the truth, but not exactly a lie, either.
Nola swiveled her chair back and forth, her eyes on Gina. “I happen to be one of the few Outer Banks natives who would love to see the lens raised,” she said, then smiled. “Of course, I have a vested interest in attracting more tourists and keeping them happy.”
“Will you help me then?” Gina tightened her hands on her knees. “I know I need to find someone to fund the project, but I’m an outsider and I really need the support of someone who isn’t.”
“Where are you from, hon?”
“Washington State. I’m an amateur lighthouse historian there, and I wanted to see some of the lighthouses in the East. I was shocked to discover that no one had bothered to raise the Kiss River lens.”
“I agree with you one hundred percent,” Nola said.
Gina let out her breath in relief. Nola Dillard seemed the type of woman who could get things done.
“I could contact the travel bureau for you,” Nola continued. “Put you in touch with someone there. If you’re willing to take on the administrative work involved, they would probably help you out with the money.”
“That would be wonderful!” Gina smiled. Finally, she was getting somewhere. “Alec O’Neill was so adamant about not getting involved, I had just about given—”
“I thought you said Alec told you to get in touch with me,” Nola interrupted her.
Gina knew by the tone of the Realtor’s voice that she had suddenly stepped onto thin ice. “He gave me your name,” she said.
“Does he want the lens to be salvaged?”
Gina hesitated. “No,” she said in a rush of honesty. “But I think it’s just that he—”
“I can’t help you then, hon,” Nola interrupted her again, folding her arms across her chest.
“Why?” Gina’s voice was a near wail.
“Oh, I think Alec is probably right,” Nola said. “The lens should stay where it is. That’s what most people want. I just got caught up in the idea for a moment.”
“Please, Mrs. Dillard,” Gina said, disturbed by the emotion in her own voice, but Nola didn’t seem to notice. She was already standing up, looking at her watch again.
She smiled at Gina with real sympathy. “Alec’s a friend,” she said. “I’ve never completely understood his change of heart about the lighthouse, but I’m not going to go against his wishes. I’m sorry.”
Gina was slow to get to her feet, and Nola put a gentle arm around her shoulders as they walked out of the office and down the hall.
“How’s Lacey doing?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Well, I’ve only known her a few days,” Gina said, aware of the flat tone of disappointment in her voice, “but she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” Lacey had nursed her and her upset stomach the day before, buying her ginger ale and crackers, making her chicken soup from scratch for dinner. “Today’s her birthday.”
“The first of July,” Nola mused. “That’s right. A couple of weeks after my daughter’s birthday. Lacey was my daughter Jessica’s best friend when they were growing up.”
Gina thought back to the picture on the bookcase of the young woman and little girl. She knew exactly how that child’s hair would feel against the woman’s chin.
They had reached the waiting room, and Nola turned to face her. “I’m sorry about the lens,” she said.
“What should I do?” Gina asked her.
“Have you talked to Walter Liscott or Brian Cass?”
“Not yet,” she said. “Alec said they were very old, though, and—”
“They’re getting up there in years, but they’re not dead,” Nola said with a laugh. “And age has its benefits. They have a lifetime’s worth of contacts.”
Gina nodded. “I’ll talk to them,” she said without much hope. “And if you change your mind, you know where I am.”
There was a new rattling coming from the underbelly of her car as she drove back to Kiss River. The rutted lane to the keeper’s house had probably shaken something loose. Between that and the broken air conditioner, she wondered if the car would ever be able to take her back to Washington.
She parked in the sand-covered parking lot near the keeper’s house, then opened the car door but didn’t move from her seat, not quite sure what to do next. She had the house to herself this evening. Lacey and Clay and even Sasha were at Alec O’Neill’s tonight, celebrating Lacey’s birthday. She had not been invited, and certainly hadn’t expected to be. Frankly, the last person she felt like spending more time with was Alec O’Neill. She’d looked forward to the evening alone, yet now she found herself missing Lacey’s caring company, and that worried her. The closer she got to Lacey, the harder it would be to lie to her. She had to remember to keep some distance from her hosts. She had no room in her for the responsibilities that came with friendship. There was no one she could talk to about her plight anymore, no one she could open up to. They would think she was crazy. And maybe she was, if only just a little. Desperation could make you that way.
At breakfast, she had given Lacey a birthday card with a note inside promising her a massage whenever she wanted one. It was the one gift she could give that would cost her nothing.
“I’m a good masseuse,” she said after Lacey had thanked her. It was true. She had taken a few courses several years ago, because massage was the one thing that had eased her mother’s pain during the last few months of her life.
“I’m so sorry you can’t come with us tonight,” Lacey had said. She had been standing in the middle of the kitchen after breakfast, the card and note in her hands while Clay opened the back door, ready to leave for his office. Gina could tell that Lacey felt guilty about leaving her alone.
Gina had put her hands on the younger woman’s arms and looked her firmly in the eye. “You’ve barely known me three days, Lacey,” she said. “I’m just your boarder, not part of your family, and that’s fine. You and Clay go and have a great time tonight. You’re going to have an ulcer, worrying so much about people.”
Lacey gave her