Page 148 of Our Little Secret
“No, I doubt it, but . . . well, I’m just asking.”
Did the arms around her waist tense?
“Dunno.” Marilee shrugged. “She never said anything to me about it.” She turned back to her electronic book. “You can ask her when she gets here. Isn’t she supposed to be here, like, any minute?”
Brooke checked the old Kit-Cat Klock positioned over the archway to the dining area, its bulbous eyes and tail clicking in tandem. Her nerves tightened at the thought of Leah’s arrival. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but considering the terms on which they’d last seen each other, Brooke couldn’t bury the concern that the holidays wouldn’t go as planned. Everything could even be ruined.
But that was stupid. She should have more faith. For her part she would try, really try to get along with Leah.
“Why do you think Leah was here?” Neal asked, plucking a slice of cheese from the cutting board and plopping it into his mouth.
“Just something Gina Duquette—you know her, the woman who owns the bakery in town? Something she said.”
“The owner of the bakery?”
“You’ve met her, right?” Brooke clarified. “She lives about five doors down, here on the island.”
He was shaking his head. “Never met her, not that I remember.”
“But you’ve been to the bakery.” He had to have in all the years they’d been together, all the times they’d come to the island.
He shrugged.
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. It’s just that she mentioned seeing a car here, and the cabin lit, and maybe Leah with her husband. Around Labor Day.”
“Really?” he said, frowning. “I think she was already divorced by then.”
Was that the tiniest of tics near his eye—the tell that he was nervous? But why? “Long divorced, as I understand it,” Brooke said. But did she really know? She picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the chowder again. “Anyway, I don’t think Gina’s the most reliable source. She seemed a little confused.”
“Maybe some car parked in the driveway and she just assumed it was Leah.”
“Why Leah? Why not me?” she asked. “Here, taste this.” She offered him the wooden spoon with some of the chowder.
“Who knows?” He blew across the spoon, then sipped. “Mm. Good.”
“Doesn’t need more salt?”
“Nope.” But he seemed a bit distracted.
Before she could ask him what was on his mind, Brooke saw the wash of headlights flashing through the windows.
Shep let out a sharp bark and scrambled from his bed.
Brooke heard the crunch of tires on gravel.
“She’s here!” Marilee yelled, hopping from the couch. Grinning widely, she raced barefoot to the door, Shep bounding beside her.
Brooke felt a pang of guilt for ever fighting with her sister, for letting her own personal issues with Leah become a barrier between them.
Well, no more. It was time to bury the hatchet and let bygones be bygones. They were family, after all. Quickly, she turned down the burner, letting the chowder simmer, then stepped into the living area just as the doorbell pealed through the house.
Marilee threw open the door.
Shep bounced in happy circles.
A blast of icy wind whooshed inside.
The fire glowed brighter as Leah stepped into the cabin. She was wrapped in a cream-colored coat, a red scarf draped around her neck, sleek gloves covering her fingers. Her blond hair gleamed, snowflakes melting in the gold strands. Her face was flushed and she was beaming. “Merry Christmas!” she cried, hugging Marilee as Brooke and Neal reached the entryway. “God, it’s great to be here!” Leah was breathless, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling. “I brought a special present with me!”
