“Darlin’, I know you’ve been away a long time, but down here, folks help each other out in a crisis. I’d say this latest hurricane qualifies. Your grandmother’s in the kitchen, by the way. I’m sure she’s real anxious to see you.”
He turned back to his chore, essentially dismissing her. Emily just stared at him, then turned to see Samantha grinning as if she’d just witnessed a scene in some ridiculous romantic comedy.
“Oh, hush your mouth,” she muttered to her sister as she headed for the kitchen at a fast clip.
“Never said a word,” Samantha retorted, following along behind, still grinning. “But in case you’re interested in my opinion, that was hot.”
Emily blinked and stared. “Are you delusional? The man just shooed me away as if I were an annoying mosquito or something.”
“Hot,” Samantha repeated. “Again, in case you’re interested in my opinion, I’d have to say things between you two are far from over.”
“The man is married,” Emily reminded her.
Her sister’s grin merely spread. “Oh, didn’t anyone tell you that he lost his wife?”
“Did he happen to leave her behind in the Great Dismal Swamp?” Emily asked sarcastically.
Samantha’s expression instantly sobered, all hints of teasing gone. “No, sweetie. Jenny died. Just over a year ago, in fact.”
Emily stopped just inside the kitchen door and stared after her sister. Oh, God, that was awful. She was suddenly assailed by more emotions than she could even begin to untangle. Sorrow for Jenny, who’d been a genuinely nice girl. Heartache for Boone and for his child, who must have been devastated.
And a completely inappropriate and unexpected flash of relief, followed all too quickly by panic. It was one thing to discover she wasn’t immune to the man when he was safely off-limits, but it was something else entirely to realize he was available, after all. She had not needed to know that. She really hadn’t.
Because the very last thing she needed in her very busy and tightly scheduled life was to have feelings for Boone Dorsett, the man she’d very deliberately left behind.
* * *
Cora Jane’s gaze went straight to Emily when she and Samantha walked into the kitchen. In that first quick glance she saw that her granddaughter was too thin, her face bordering on gaunt. She’d been working too hard, not taking nearly enough time for herself, Cora Jane assessed.
There was also no mistaking the bright patches of color in her cheeks and the sparks in her eyes, put there by Boone, no doubt. Cora Jane turned away, hoping none of the others would see the satisfied smile she couldn’t seem to stop. She wished she’d been witness to the first meeting between those two after all this time, but seeing Emily’s face told her it had gone exactly as she’d hoped.
“My sweet girl,” she said, then held open her arms. “It’s been entirely too long since you’ve been home.”
Emily stepped into her embrace and gave her a fierce hug. “I know. I’m sorry. I always think I’ll get here, but time just flies by.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Cora Jane said, misty-eyed as she glanced around the table where Samantha and Gabi were seated along with B.J. “You’re all here. You have no idea what it means to me that you dropped everything and came.”
“Well, of course we did,” Emily said. “Isn’t that the lesson you tried to teach us, to be there for family? Now tell me what you’re doing in here cooking? Judging from the looks of things in the dining room, we should all be on our hands and knees out there scrubbing the place down.”
“She’s making pancakes for me,” B.J. piped up, catching Emily’s attention.
Cora Jane watched as it dawned on Emily who B.J. was. There could be little question he was Boone’s son. The boy was the spitting image of the man. Shock registered on Emily’s face for just an instant, but she managed a smile.
“And who might you be that you can convince my grandmother to make pancakes?” Emily teased, her voice unmistakably shaky.
“I’m B. J. Dorsett,” he responded seriously. “Boone’s my dad. I help out here a lot, don’t I, Ms. Cora Jane?”
“Best helper I have,” Cora Jane confirmed. “And I figured B.J. had the right idea. We all need a hearty breakfast before we tackle this mess.”
“I’m betting you talked her into the Mickey Mouse pancakes, too,” Emily said to B.J., whose eyes lit up.
“Uh-huh. They’re the best.”
“I always thought so,” Emily said.
B.J. gave her a perplexed look. “How come I’ve never seen you before? Ms. Gabi’s here sometimes, but not you or Ms. Samantha.”
“Well, we both live far away,” Emily said, a guilty flush in her cheeks. “Samantha lives in New York. She’s a very busy actress.”
B.J.’s eyes widened as he took another look at Samantha, then widened some more as recognition dawned. “I’ve seen you on TV. You were the mom in a commercial for my favorite cereal.” He pumped a fist in the air. “I knew it. Cool! Have you been in other stuff?”
“Lots of things you probably wouldn’t have seen,” Samantha said. “I’ve been in a few plays on Broadway, a soap opera, a few other commercials.”
B.J. bounced in his chair with excitement. “Wait till I tell the kids at school.” He glanced at Cora Jane. “Does Dad know? I’d better tell Dad.”
“In a minute,” Cora Jane said, noting that Emily looked vaguely disgruntled by B.J.’s excitement over meeting a famous actress. That girl’s competitive streak between her and Samantha was still alive and well, apparently. “Your breakfast’s ready.”
She set plates of pancakes, eggs and bacon in front of everyone, poured more coffee, then took her own place at the table. Turning to B.J. she deliberately mentioned that Emily had worked for a few movie stars.
“No way!” B.J. exclaimed, now giving Emily his full attention. “What’d you do? Who’d you work for? Did you ever meet Johnny Depp?”
Cora Jane knew that Emily didn’t really like talking about her famous clients, but she also knew she needed to get the spotlight back on her. The affections of little boys could be fickle. Maybe it was ridiculous, but Cora Jane had a feeling that B.J. just might be the key to a reconciliation between Emily and Boone. The boy needed a mother. Oh, she knew that Boone was doing the best he could and would disagree with her about that, but in just the past hour she’d seen how B.J. responded to the attention of her granddaughters.
Over the years she’d been fortunate to have these three girls with her most summers. They’d been closer than many grandparents and grandchildren. She thought that was, in part, because she hadn’t done a lot of meddling in their lives. Oh, she’d given advice, given the occasional nudge when called for, but in general she’d let them make their own mistakes, their own decisions.
Now, though, they were older and showing no signs of settling down. Each of them had professional successes to be proud of, but not a one of them had a life. At least that’s how she saw it.
That needed to change. And though none of them had grown up here in Sand Castle Bay, they’d spent enough time here to earn the right to call it home.
She sat back and listened as B.J. peppered Emily with excited questions about Hollywood. Her granddaughter answered patiently, a smile playing about her lips.
“What