Emma’s chuckle was spontaneous but her eyes darted away. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I emphasize the word sleepy as it relates to Sanctuary Cove. For those of us born and bred here, watching paint dry can be an event.”
Sherri’s comment surprised Emma. “If you’re unhappy, why have you stayed?”
Sherri laughed. “Oh, I’m not unhappy! I was quite determined to leave when I was younger. I had a taste of city life while I was at college and I liked it—for the short term. But when it comes down to it, I’m not built for the city. Like most of us locals, I appreciate what I have right here. Family and friends. A job I love. And a pace of life I’m comfortable with.” She swept an arm toward the windows. “How can you beat the beauty of nature all around us? I’m quite happy. So—” she smiled and swirled her wine “—back to you. What enticed you away from the bright lights?”
At Emma’s sigh, Sherri reached forward and touched her knee. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Well, yes, I suppose I do, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I sense there’s a story there, but we can leave it.”
Emma glanced at the pale gold liquid in her glass. Took a small sip. She really liked Sherri and maybe it would help to talk about what had happened. At least some of it. She shrugged. “Things weren’t working out for me in New York. Not on a personal level and not with my job. I thought a change of scenery would be good.”
“Hmm...”
“Well, I’ve always loved spending time at my cottage. So, with no obligations, I decided to move here. I know that sounds cryptic...”
“You’ve been here for what, two months, maybe three?”
“Nearly four.”
“For most city transplants, the novelty wears off in time, and they can’t wait to get back to civilization.” Sherri helped herself to a strawberry, then dipped it into the melted chocolate. “Something tells me you’re different. That you might stay.”
Emma smiled. “It’s nice of you to say that. I would like to.”
“If you don’t mind me being honest, I think what drove you here was a lot harder on you than you’re letting on. I remember the first time I met you. You had dark shadows under your eyes and there was an edginess to you.” She returned Emma’s smile. “Now the shadows are gone and I don’t see the nerves, or at least not nearly as much.”
“It’s hard not to unwind in Sanctuary Cove,” Emma said evasively and popped a candied almond into her mouth.
Sherri helped herself to a plateful of snacks and snuggled back in the chair, a distinct gleam in her eyes. “So, are you going to go out with the dreamy Dr. Whitmore?” she asked.
Emma choked on her wine. Grabbing a napkin, she held it to her mouth for a few moments until she could swallow. “Where did that question come from?”
“I’ve seen how the two of you look at each other. Not directly—but when you know the other isn’t paying attention. You can’t tell me you’re not interested in Josh.”
“Didn’t you say he had a bad breakup recently?” Emma asked. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m sure you’re reading us wrong.”
“I know Josh, and he is interested in you.” Sherri savored another strawberry. “Mmm. I might not know you that well, but I’d say you’re attracted to him, too. Am I incorrect?”
When Emma stayed silent, Sherri continued. “So what’s holding you back?”
“I don’t want a relationship,” Emma blurted out. “Besides, it’s hard to imagine a guy like him wouldn’t be with someone already.”
Sherri shook her head, sending her dangly silver earrings dancing. “Nope. He hasn’t seen anyone for months. Bad breakup, remember. And good-bye and good riddance to Crystal, if you ask me. Also, if he was with someone, he wouldn’t be sending off those signals like he does with you. Josh isn’t like that.”
“Why aren’t the two of you together, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Are you kidding? Josh and me? I haven’t thought about him romantically since I was about ten. For his part, he’s always considered me like a kid sister. I’ve known Josh a long time. His sister, Angie, is one of my closest friends. As kids, Angie and I were inseparable whenever their family was in Sanctuary Cove. I spent so much time at their place during the summers, Josh and I virtually grew up together. Over the years, he’s become a good friend. I’d like to see him happy with someone. But that someone is definitely not me.”
Loud cracking sounds from the direction of the forest caused Emma to jolt and she nearly toppled her wineglass. Max was instantly alert and up on all fours. “Was that what I think it was?” she asked.
Sherri frowned and nodded. “Yep. Gunshots.”
Emma thought of the beautiful white-tailed doe she’d seen just that morning, and pushed out of her chair. The thought of a hunter trespassing on her property outraged her.
Sherri put down her glass and joined Emma and Max by the window.
At the sound of another series of shots, Emma winced. She’d check the regulations and, if warranted, report the occurrence to the authorities, she decided.
The incident left them in a more subdued mood. Regardless, when Sherri left hours later, Emma felt they had the beginning of a friendship. She cleared away the plates, glasses and empty bottle. She checked to see if the person who’d called earlier had left a message but there was no voice mail. Grabbing Max’s leash, she took him for a long, brisk jog down the driveway and along Otter Creek Road. When they returned, her skin was flushed and damp with the exertion, despite the chill in the air.
Emma retrieved her laptop from her office, made herself a cup of tea and took both out to the back deck that overlooked the lake. The property dropped off steeply from the north end of the cottage, toward the shoreline. More gardens were visible from here, each boasting a dazzling array of colors of her late blooming perennials. Sipping her tea, she watched a great blue heron skim gracefully above the lake’s mirrored surface to alight delicately in its marshy end. With keen eyesight, speed and agility, it plucked its dinner of fingerlings out of the shallow waters.
Emma heard the mournful call of a loon and its mate’s answering cry, followed by the jarring ring of her phone inside the cottage.
Putting her mug aside, she went in with Max following.
“Emma, this is Daniel Leighton,” the caller introduced himself as soon as she answered. “You’ll remember—”
“Yes. I remember.” Just hearing his voice caused Emma’s palms to sweat. “But I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
“I understand how you must feel, Emma, but I need to tell you something. Morgan knows about the information I have.”
Exasperated, Emma strode across the room. “The information? I believed you. My fiancé didn’t. But I believed you, and I tried to get Richard—Richard Peterson, he was my fiancé—to resign his contract, too. He wouldn’t and our relationship consequently fell apart. And you’ve not used that so-called information in an article. At this point, do you really think I care what Morgan knows and whether you deceived me or not?”
There was a short pause. “I was entirely truthful with you.” His voice was low and earnest.
“Then why didn’t you run your story? It’s been months.”
“Morgan’s attorney pressured the paper. Threatened, actually. That attorney was your ex-fiancé. Our lawyers were concerned about how I’d gotten the copies of those checks for the payments to Morgan.