Right girl wrong side, p.12
Right Girl, Wrong Side, page 12
She blushed too. They were kind of carrying on like newlyweds this trip, although she had no idea why. Maybe it was the freedom of being away from their jobs and day-to-day pressures? Evita sucked in a breath. Or maybe they were always like this now. Including at home. Whatever she’d heard about couples becoming tired old married folks didn’t seem to apply in her family. She grimaced at Ryan. “Ooh. Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” he said. “Or theirs. It’s their vacation too, and they were in their own room. Sort of.”
Evita rolled her eyes. “As opposed to the shower.”
Ryan hooted. “My mom really lost it.”
“I know!”
He shook his head. “How’d you sleep?”
“Er. Not too well.” She shrugged. “Robby snores, and the baby…”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll bet.” He rolled a bike out of the shed, handing it to her. A helmet was suspended from its handlebars.
“Ryan,” she said, snapping on her helmet. “Last night, when Chachi interrupted us, what were you about to say?”
He smiled at her and rolled his bike out of the shed. “That maybe we should do something like this?” He shut the shed door, then put on his helmet too. “Go out for coffee.”
“It was a good thought!”
They both mounted their bikes and started pedaling away. “What did you tell your parents?” he asked when they reached the end of the drive.
She leaned forward, gripping her handlebars. “Same as you. That I was tired and needed some downtime.”
“Let’s hope they don’t figure out we’re taking it together.” He winked, and her heart fluttered happily. She liked that they were in on this together: their secret getaway. Even if it was just into a nearby town and for coffee, breaking away from their parents and the others seemed daring and fun. Just like in the old days.
“They won’t,” she said. “They’ll all be preoccupied on the beach. Hopefully not with fighting each other.”
“Yeah,” he said. “At least they got the umbrella part worked out.”
The front door of the cottage popped open, and Maddy walked onto the porch, looking for something. “We’d better get going,” Ryan urged quietly.
Evita started pedaling faster when he pulled out ahead of her, going down the road. “Will Maddy tell?” she asked, catching up with him.
He pointed to a bike path up ahead, motioning her along. “This way!”
She pedaled alongside him. “Where are we going?”
“’Sconset Village,” he informed her. “I found a great little coffee shop online.”
“You’re full of surprises, Ryan Hatfield.”
His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and she caught her breath. “Yeah, Evita Machado,” he said. “So are you.” His words tumbled over her like a sultry ocean breeze, and she was caught up in his spell. They passed others heading into and out of town, and everyone shared friendly greetings and smiles.
With the island being small, the village wasn’t far away—a short bike ride. Evita was charmed by the old-fashioned streets and quaint rose-covered cottages that were so classic to Nantucket. The homes here looked old and were smaller than their lux rental, which had been built within the last twenty years, yet modeled to replicate the island standard on its outside. They took a few turns in town, then they pulled up to the café.
“This looks sweet.”
“Different from the place we used to go in high school,” he joked. “But hopefully the joe is good.” The truth was, she didn’t care if the coffee tasted like mud. She was just happy to be out having it with Ryan. This felt almost like a date. Sort of, but not really. Then, he stepped forward and held open the café door, letting her walk in ahead of him. That made her feel special, because he was considerate. That was so Ryan. Always putting others first.
They left their bikes outdoors and ordered coffees, grabbing a booth by the window.
Lots of shoppers strolled by. Tourists and locals dressed in hats and sunglasses, some wearing T-shirts with whales on them. “I’ll have to get some of those for my family,” Evita said.
“What? T-shirts?”
“Yeah,” she told him. “It’s a thing we do sometimes. Get matching shirts on vacation, then take a group pic of us all dressed alike.”
“That sounds fun. I wonder if— No.” He shook his head, thinking better of it. “My dad might? But it’s hard to see my mom being into that.”
They both sipped from their coffee, commenting that it was good.
“How do you and Maddy get along? When we were in high school, she was so small. Just in preschool or something.”
“Yeah, the age gap’s there. It’s almost like we grew up in different families. I just wish—” He frowned, appearing distant for a moment.
She touched his arm. “Wish what?”
His smile held a hint of melancholy. “Just that I knew more about her. She seems really unhappy all the time.”
Evita lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it’s teenage angst?”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“She’s not very talkative, truthfully. I’m not sure what I’d say?”
“Anything, really. The words aren’t so important. What counts is that she knows you’re in her corner.”
His smiled softly. “Thanks for that.”
She heaved a breath. “I’ve had a lot of experience with family.”
“Yeah, and yours seems pretty great. I mean, I’d never seen all of you together. Not until this week. You all seem to mesh. Get along.”
She wished she could say the same about him and his parents and Maddy, but she’d noticed the cool distance there. “All families are different,” she finally said.
“True.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “So tell me about you,” he said. “And that flower shop of yours. What’s it called?”
She grinned, because this was one of her favorite topics. “Coming Up Roses.”
“Love it?” The way he asked, with a sunny smile on his face, indicated he knew she’d say yes.
Warmth filled her soul, because she was liking him so much, and liking his interest in her. She set down her cup, beaming contentedly. “Yes, I do.”
He crossed his arms and studied her. “I’ll have to stop by sometime.” If he was hinting he’d like to see her again, she was happy to take the hint.
“Oh. I wish you would.” Her mind whirled with excitement at the thought of sharing this special part of herself—her world—within. “I’d love to show you around and have you meet Josie.”
“Who’s Josie?”
“Only my best friend on earth and shop manager.”
He cocked his chin, and his sandy hair swished across his forehead. “Then I’d like to meet her for sure.”
“You don’t live in Lexington anymore, huh?” she asked, thinking she’d heard he’d moved.
He shook his head. “No, in Smithburg. Closer to the community college where I teach.”
“Is that called Smithburg too?”
“It is.” He was enjoying this conversation and the fact that she was asking about him, she could tell. “I’ve been there four years, but it only took four minutes to know it was the right fit.”
She set her elbows on the table, appreciating his dedicated look. He’d set his jaw the way he always did when he’d firmly decided something. “What do you mean?”
He raked a hand through his hair which spiked high then flopped back down in a buttery golden mess. But it was a sexy mess that framed his rugged face perfectly. “I mean, it’s the right place for me, I guess. I love the students and my fellow faculty. I was looking for a post where I could make a difference, and that first day at Smithburg—after my very first lecture—I knew I’d found it.
“I had a student come up to me who said she’d enjoyed my talk but hadn’t understood all of it because she was still learning English. I offered to help her during office hours, then another student approached us while we were talking. Before long, we’d made a small lunch-bunch group. I told them I’d leave my office door open, and they could come hang out when they liked while they were doing their studies. If they had questions, then I’d help them if I could.” He shrugged, radiant in his memory bubble. “And, if I couldn’t help, I’d find someone else who could.”
“Oh, Ryan,” she gushed, meaning it absolutely. “That’s wonderful. How did they do?”
He nodded proudly. “Every single one of them got high marks and graduated.”
“Thanks to you.”
He chuckled modestly. “Thanks to them and the hard work they put in.”
She sat back in her booth, seeing him through new eyes. She always knew he was a giving person, but the fact that he extended this part of himself at work spoke volumes about his character. “How far do you live from Lexington?”
“About forty-five minutes,” he said. “Close enough to see my folks when I want to, but not so close they drop in unexpectedly on me a lot either. If you get my drift.”
She chuckled, understanding his desire for a little distance and privacy. “Nice.” She toasted him with her coffee cup. “Also nice that you’ve found your passion. History.”
His grin said it all. “Absolutely.” He took a sip of coffee and so did she. “There’s a lot of history to this place, you know. The native people here were the Wampanoags.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “The name ’Sconset comes from the Algonquin word Siasconset, meaning ‘Near the Great Bone.’ ’Sconset Village started as a fishing village in the 1600s. Later, whaling captains built second homes here to get away from the noise and smell of Nantucket Harbor. By the late 1800s, it caught on as a vacation destination for actors and such from New York City.”
“I didn’t know any of that.” She thought of the museum in the historic district that Chachi and his family had visited. “Nantucket’s primary industry was whaling, right?”
“Yep.” He smiled. “Maddy loved that part when she found out. Not that she was happy about what happened to those whales back then.”
“Yikes. I suppose not.”
“They were an important source of oil though, very valuable during the industrial revolution. Not just for lamps. Also used for clocks, typewriters, sewing machines. Stuff that had gears.”
“That’s fascinating. You know your history.”
“I’d better,” he joked. “Or I’d be out of a job.”
She playfully shoved his arm, and he caught her hand on the table. Butterflies flitted around in her belly. His touch was so reassuring and warm.
“This is nice,” he said. “Getting away. Just the two of us.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But we probably shouldn’t stay gone too long.”
“We won’t,” he whispered. “Just long enough to catch our breath.”
She rolled her eyes. “It does feel like we’ve been in a boxing ring.”
“Ha ha! Twelve rounds!”
“And this is just day three.”
“Don’t remind me.” He gently squeezed her hand, then released it, picking up his coffee. “Coming Up Roses,” he said. “Tell me all about it.”
So she did, and about how she’d become interested in growing things her senior year in high school. And that she’d majored in horticulture in college, always knowing she wanted to work in the business somehow. At first, she’d thought of opening a garden shop. But then, she settled on flowers, because they made the world extra beautiful and warmed people’s hearts.
He sighed as she summed things up. “I think that’s amazing. It’s really great you’re doing what you love.”
“Yeah. You too.”
He frowned. “My parents wish I’d do a little more. Work at a nameplate university, that kind of thing.”
“You probably could if you wanted to.”
“Ah. But see,” he said. “There’s the catch. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else. I love the students I serve. It’s like opening a window to the world for so many of them. I have adults in my class who’ve decided to pursue higher education for the first time in their forties. Immigrant students for whom English isn’t their first language, like the ones I mentioned… Bright kids coming out of high school who can’t afford full-time universities or to live in dorms.”
Admiration coursed through her. “You really have your calling.”
“I like to look at it that way, yeah.”
“Then I’m glad you found your fit.”
“You too.” He held his coffee cup up to hers in a toast and they both realized their drinks were empty. “Want one more?”
She checked the time on her phone. “I don’t believe we’d better. We’ve been gone a while, and our folks are bound to start looking.”
“Right.” He stared down at her cell phone. “As long as you’ve got that out, maybe I can have your number?” Her heart pounded. “I mean, it might be good. In case we need to text or something? You never know when things back at the cottage could get dicey.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Sure.” She couldn’t always be guaranteed to snatch private moments with him. They exchanged phones and each added themselves in as a new contact in the other’s cell. Evita glanced out the café’s front window. “There’s a gift shop across the street. Do you think we can stop in quickly so I can ask about T-shirts?”
“Of course.”
“I hope they have all the sizes I need.”
He met her eyes. “I guess you can ask?”
A light bulb went off in her brain. Maybe she should buy a lot of them. Not just ten. How about fourteen? That way she could surprise everybody. The Hatfields too. Like it or not. She hoped they’d love it. She giggled at her plan. “I am!” she said, answering Ryan. She got the idea that it would be fun to surprise him too. “You know, the coffee’s really good here, maybe we can buy a pound for everyone to try on our last day?”
“Then wouldn’t they catch on that we’d—”
She winked at him. “It will be our last day.”
“Right. What can they say to us then?”
She glanced at the coffee shop counter which now had a short line. “Would you mind staying here to get it while I dash across the street?”
“Yeah, sure.” They both slid out of the booth.
“Don’t forget to have them grind it.”
He nodded and cracked a joke. “After that, we should probably head back to the cottage before someone sets it on fire.”
She gasped, but she was cackling. “Bite your tongue!”
Nine
As Ryan and Evita approached their cottage on their bikes a short time later, he regretted his lame joke. It had seemed harmless enough at the time but now… Smoke poured through the open laundry room window facing the drive and seeped out of windows on the right side of the house. That was the kitchen.
“Oh no!” She jumped off her bike, racing inside, and Ryan was right behind her, his heart pounding. He hoped everyone was safe.
She dropped her shopping package in the foyer and raced into the kitchen, her face creased with worry. The microwave door stood open, and plumes of noxious black smoke were everywhere. “Mom! Dad! What happened?”
Her parents waved damp dish towels in the air, trying to clear the room, coughing and covering their mouths and noses. The cottage’s windows and French doors stood open to the deck. The smoke alarm blared, and Robby furiously punched at it with a broom handle.
“Quique and Nanny decided to make microwave popcorn,” her mom said.
Her dad shook his head. “While the popcorn packages were still in the box.”
“But everyone’s okay?” Ryan asked, looking around.
“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Machado nodded. “Thank goodness.”
Eunice cradled Luisa on the deck oceanside, keeping her away from the smoke. Chachi and Kendra had Nanny and Quique lined up on a lounge chair and were calmly delivering a lecture. Both of them frowned, and the kids appeared squirmy, mostly staring down at their feet and only once in a while peeking up at their parents. They were clearly being scolded.
“And my family?” Ryan asked the Machados.
Evita’s dad answered. “Still down on the beach.”
Ryan strode through the house and went out on the deck. He spotted his mom and dad under their umbrella. Maddy had moved her chair far away from theirs and was on a separate spot a ways down the beach in her folding chair. She had her sunglasses on and held some kind of craft project on her lap. “Now’s your chance,” Evita said, standing beside him.
“What?”
“Go on down,” she urged gently. “Talk to her. See how’s she’s doing. I’ll put away the bikes.”
He really wanted to, but his feet felt rooted in cement. He could deliver a lecture to 150 students no problem, but talk to his little sister who didn’t have much use for him most of the time? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know how to approach her. “I have no idea what to say.”
“You don’t have to say much.” Evita met his eyes. “Maybe mostly listen. The important thing is to let her know that you’re here.”
Ryan walked up beside Maddy and took a seat on the sand. “Hey, Mads. Can I join you?”
She shrugged without looking at him. “I guess.”
He studied the project she’d been working on. She had a flat piece of cardboard on her knees and was making lots of tiny knots from thin blue cords. “That’s cool. What is it?”
“Macrame.”
He’d seen things made from it, but had never seen it in action before.
She held up the small figure. “Like it? It’s a whale.”
Now that she pointed it out, he could see the shape exactly, with the large humped back and dorsal fin. “That’s fun. What do you plan to do with it?”
