Now, why did that seem so personal? She swallowed. “Yes.”
He stepped closer, letting her see that he, too, had grown older. Fine lines creased his eyes, the shadow of a beard graced his jaw. He was wearing cologne. Nothing too fancy, but tangy enough to set her senses on edge and make it hard to remember that she had a whole lot of other things to think about besides old memories.
“Well. I guess you’re all set, then.”
“I guess I am.” She attempted to smile. “I swear, I’m so tired, I’m going to sleep the moment my head hits that pillow.”
The doorbell rang, effectively preventing August from commenting on that. Thank God. “Mom and Tanya are here,” he said, looking almost regretful. “I better go help my mom get settled.”
She was just about to follow August out of the kitchen when her dad wandered in again. “Stay here and talk to me,” he ordered, popping open a beer for himself and pulling out a tray of burgers, all ready for the grill. “You hungry?”
“I could be.”
“I hope so. You look like hell, Evie.”
“Thanks.”
“You need to hear it. You’re too skinny and you’ve got lines on your face.”
“Those would be wrinkles. I am getting older, Dad.”
“Not that old. More likely, I’d say you’re stressed out.” Looking her over again, he shook his head. “That damn John.”
Just hearing John’s name could make her go from almost happy to miserable in a heartbeat. “I don’t want to talk about John.”
Her dad scowled, revealing his own supply of age lines. “We never have talked about him, about what he did to you. Not really.”
“There was nothing to say. He didn’t want to be married anymore.” To her.
“He always was too selfish. The girls needed—”
“He’s a good daddy.” With some shock, Evie remembered how he’d never minded helping to change diapers or spend time with Jenna. How he’d been thrilled to have another girl and had visibly held back tears when Missy had been in the hospital with croup. “John’s always been good to the girls.”
“But never the husband you needed. He should have intended to be more than a good father—”
“Daddy, we weren’t meant to be together. I’ve known it for a long time.”
“Still, he broke your heart.”
“My heart broke because I realized that my marriage had never been like I’d hoped it to be.” Quietly she added, “Daddy, it wasn’t like you and Momma. John and I never had a thing to say to each other at the end of the day.”
Concern flickered in his gray eyes, so like her own. “But still—”
“But still, it’s been hard,” she agreed. Terribly hard.
After taking another sip of his beer, her dad shook his head. “Come on out to the patio and watch me cook. August’s mom and sister are already out there.”
“I can’t wait to see Tanya. I haven’t seen her since she came out to visit last year. Do she and August stop over a lot?”
“Pretty much. August runs Silver Shells now, did you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“He took over when his dad had heart surgery. When Al passed, August made a lot of changes. The place was just listed in Florida Today as one of the top vacation resorts.”
All this was news to her. “I can’t believe so much has happened to August and I didn’t know it.”
“Why? You’ve had your own problems, Evie.” Handing her a tray of appetizers, he said, “Let’s go visit.”
As they heard laughter out on the back patio, her dad’s expression momentarily sobered. “It’s only fair to warn you that Bev Meyer isn’t doing too well.”
Evie’s steps faltered. “Mrs. Meyer’s sick? What’s wrong?”
“You’ll see,” he said before walking out the back door, leaving Evie to wonder what else she’d missed while unsuccessfully trying to have a life with John.
Chapter Three
Evie Ray Randall was skinny. So skinny, August figured she could put on twenty pounds and still look in need of a good meal. Her arms were too thin, her hips too bony. Dark smudges marred the translucent skin around her eyes, the shadows almost matching the smoky gray irises that had mesmerized him from the moment they’d first met.
Evie’s hair needed to be cut or styled or whatever his sister, Tanya, was constantly doing to hers, because it hung down her back in a limp ponytail, the once vibrant color dull and faded.
So, how come he still thought Evie was the most beautiful woman in the world?
It had to be the spark of mischief that never quite left her eyes. The way she was never too sweet, too patient, or too upbeat. In short, Evie Ray had always been real. She laughed when things were funny, showed her temper when she was mad, and cried at Hallmark commercials. Yep, with Evie, what you saw was what you got. And he’d always wanted every bit of her.
“What?” Evie asked, catching him staring from across the table they were setting. “Do I have ketchup on me or something?” She picked up a napkin she’d just folded and swiped it across her face.
“Stop, you look fine,” he said, grabbing the napkin. “I didn’t mean to stare, I was just thinking of something else.”
She pulled a stack of plates from the basket her mom had set out and started walking around the table, placing each in the center of a red linen place mat. “Really? It must have been pretty important.”
When he took too long formulating a reply, she gestured toward the far side of the patio. “Are you worried about your mom?”
“No. Well, not too much.” Out of habit, he studied his mom’s color as she munched on a bacon-wrapped shrimp. For the moment, his mother looked healthy, her color not too flushed.
Evie leaned forward. “My dad told me that she’s been sick.”
“Yeah. She’s had some trouble with her cholesterol and blood pressure, among other things. She had to have a stent put in one of her arteries last year. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s slowed her down for a minute.”
“What gave you the first clue?” Evie asked with a broad grin. “The pile of shrimp or the plate of fries my dad just handed her?”
“All of it,” he said, finally able to see the humor. Bev Meyer had never been one to follow anyone’s advice but her own. Why had he thought things would suddenly change? “I’m trying to take care of her, but she wants none of it.”
“She’s always been independent.”
Thinking of his mother, who’d once been a ballet teacher before settling down to raise kids and help her husband with the resort, he nodded. “Yeah. She has always been that.”
“Things have been tough since your dad died, huh?” she asked, handing him the spoons as she folded napkins and began circling the table once again.
Dutifully, August placed a spoon to the right of each plate. “Yep, but at least Tanya lives nearby, too. She moved next to Mom, just in case Mom starts feeling bad but doesn’t want to tell us. The first time Tanya and I heard Mom was having heart problems was when her doctor told us they’d admitted her to the hospital.”
“Oh, August.”
He