“I don’t know. I’ve never experienced autumn,” Elise said. “It interests me. Maybe I’ll stick around a little while longer.”

  Officer Cutler looked like a defeated dog. His shoulders fell forward, and his eyes lost their light. “Okay. Well. I don’t have any more questions for you. I’ll give you a call when we know more.”

  “Thank you, Officer Cutler. I appreciate it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Yet another late-summer day spread itself out before Elise, filled with possibility.

  Elise stood in the sunlight outside the police station and lifted her cheeks, closing her eyes. The temperature was maybe eighty degrees Fahrenheit, but that strange crisp at the end of it was proof that this autumn everyone spoke about was headed straight toward them.

  Elise turned back toward the shopping area. After spending a few days on the island, she’d grown accustomed to it in a different way—looking at the little fudge shops and ice creameries and restaurants and bars with a feeling of community and connection. She recognized shop owners, ones who waved at her when she passed by. She supposed she was something of a celebrity on the island, especially now that she was being labeled a “crazy arsonist” who was after the Swartz family’s money.

  Elise visited several little boutiques, where she bought a few dresses, a pair of jeans, a mustard-colored sweater, and a few pairs of shoes. Throughout the shopping spree, she sent her daughter a series of mirror selfies from the dressing rooms.

  She wanted to let her daughter know just how much she missed her. Beyond that, she wanted to make sure Penny wasn’t worried.

  Penny: That top is fantastic! I have to question those jeans, though. What’s up with those jewels on the upper right thigh?

  Elise: Oh, gosh. I didn’t notice the jewels! You’re right. So gaudy!

  Penny: What would you do without me?

  Elise: I would be arrested by the fashion police, for sure.

  Not to mention the fact that I just walked out of the police station...

  She would keep that bit of information to herself.

  Penny: I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I hope you tell me soon what’s up with your travel plans.

  Elise: You’ll know when I know!

  Penny: :(

  When Elise left the last boutique, she found herself across the street from The Grind. Wayne was out front in a little dark green apron, turned toward the north. A light breeze rushed across his hair. Elise cursed the handsomeness of his profile. She cursed his perfect nose and his beautiful, kissable lips, and his muscular biceps.

  “Wayne!” Elise called.

  Wayne turned and delivered that same electric smile. Elise felt the smile like a sword through the belly.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as she approached.

  At first, she thought he might hug her, but he kept his distance. She held her multiple bags at her sides and shrugged.

  “I needed new clothes after the fire,” she said.

  “Of course! I wish I could have offered you something. I guess you probably don’t want to run around in Carhartt jackets and baggy jeans.”

  “Not really a reflection of my personality,” Elise said.

  Wayne glanced back toward The Grind, which was oddly barren. “It’s slowing down for the season already. We made too many scones, though. Do you want one? I might grab one.” He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with scones and a cup of coffee, which he placed at the outdoor table beside Elise. “I just checked in with the guys. They say they don’t need me here anymore today. Tell you the truth. They prefer when I get out of here, so they can flirt with each other and check their phones.”

  “You don’t allow flirting? What kind of boss are you?” Elise asked.

  Look at me, also flirting.

  If that was what flirting was?

  Maybe I’d forgotten how to flirt?

  “I know. I’m so cruel,” Wayne said. “But to fight that inner cruelty, I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a sailboat today. It’s one of the last beautiful days, and I have a hunch you’ll be on your way off the island soon.”

  Elise arched her brow. “What makes you think I’m going to run away from the Swartz family?”

  Wayne shrugged. “Because they have money, power, and the entire island behind them.”

  “But not you?”

  “I’m kind of a lone wolf,” Wayne said.

  “How lucky for me.” Elise rolled her eyes.

  “Come on. You’ll love the water. And maybe out there, you can think of what you want to do next,” Wayne said.

  ELISE COULDN’T RESIST the offer.

  The only thing she needed?

  A swimsuit.

  She insisted on buying one hurriedly at another boutique, then met Wayne on the street corner to walk back to his place. As they went, they chattered easily—avoiding all conversation of the Swartzes, of the police station, of Allison Darby. Elise felt herself relax and breathe deeper. When they reached the front door, Elise casually removed the key Wayne had given her and slotted it into the lock.

  “Oh, look at you. Acting like you own the place,” Wayne teased her.

  “That’s right. Shoes off at the door!” Elise called.

  Wayne laughed, and it wasn’t a fake laugh, either. It was the kind of laugh Elise could have really come home to.

  Elise changed into her swimsuit and one of her new summery dresses, dropped off the rest of her newly bought supplies, and then met Wayne out front.

  “I keep the sailboat out by the Island House,” he said.

  “Do you take it out very often?” Elise asked.

  “Not as much as I should,” Wayne affirmed. “I used to sail a lot more. Back in the old days, I sailed from Chicago to Mackinac Island. There’s a big race here every July. It ends with one of the most outrageous parties you’ve ever seen in your life. The docks are lined with the most beautiful sailboats. People are funny and loud and bantering for hours on end. The island comes to life in a much different way.”

  “And now, it’s on its way out,” Elise said.

  “That’s right. But we’re going to catch the last of it.”

  Elise had never been sailboating.

  Out on the Pacific, the water was a different beast altogether—dark and boisterous and occasionally angry—and nothing Elise had ever especially craved to be out on. The Straits of Mackinac couldn’t have been more different.

  Wayne’s boat was glorious. It was about twenty feet long with a portly hull and a glowing white underbelly that reflected across the water.

  The boat was named Tara. The name was painted across the side in glorious letters. Elise wanted to know who it was named after and what it meant. Maybe it was just some fictional character? Maybe it was his mother?

  Wayne instructed Elise on little ways she could help. When they were out beyond the docks, she watched as he flung the sails open. It was a wild sensation, feeling the wind tear at the sails and take them across the waves. She gripped the railing of the boat and gazed back toward the island. Her heart rammed against her rib cage.

  “You look scared. Are you scared?” Wayne called.

  Elise shook her head, a complete lie. “I love it!”

  Wayne laughed. “You look a little green!”

  Elise perched in a little chair and continued to gaze out at the water. The sun beamed down upon them, a sun that seemed heavy with nostalgia. The sailboat crept south around the island. Wayne pointed out the Grand Hotel. Its white pillars reflected the sun, the white so bright it hurt Elise’s eyes.

  Wayne stabilized the boat at the southwestern corner of the island. He allowed the sails to fall, and he dropped the anchor. He then collapsed back, removed his shoes, placed his head on a pillow, and crossed his ankles.

  “Don’t you look comfortable,” Elise said.

  “I got up at five this morning,” Wayne said, delivering proof of it with a funny-sounding yawn.

  “You’re pretty good at the old sailing thing,” Elise said. She scooched herself toward him and sat about six inches away from where his head was splayed on the pillow.

  “I know,” Wayne said.

  “And you’re not arrogant about it at all.” Elise rolled her eyes.

  Wayne laughed. Silence fell between them again. Elise had to face the facts. She’d begun to crush on him. Hard.

  “I need to apologize to you about yesterday,” Wayne said suddenly. His eyes remained closed as he basked in the sun.

  “What are you talking about? You’ve been such a help.”

  “Taking you to Anna’s wedding like that.”

  “Actually, I dragged you there,” Elise reminded him.

  “I guess that’s true. But I should have stopped it. I didn’t want to put you in any weird position. Anna is a great person, a great friend, and I’m so happy she’s happy. But it was pretty unnecessary.”

  Was he telling me this because we’re on a date?

  Was this a date?

  Were the other times we’d hung out actually romantic?

  “I know you’re just a visitor. That you’re just here to figure out your own life and what it all means,” Wayne continued. “But you seem interesting and introspective. And you’d probably get it if I told you... the past few years have not been easy for me. I’ve done a number of things I regret.”

  Ah! So this was what Alex was talking about?

  “We all do things we regret,” Elise offered, although she burned with curiosity about what he meant.

  “I know that. But it gets old, you know? Everyone is constantly calling me a playboy. Everyone is saying that I actually take pleasure in hurting people. Truthfully? I’ve just felt like an exposed nerve for the past three years. I don’t know how to find my way out of it.”

  Three years? What happened three years ago?

  “Everyone says there’s a process to it all, you know,” Wayne continued. “And it’s not like I haven’t had a good time. But I’ve been more or less single for the past twelve months, trying to take a good, hard look at my life and what I want. I basically lived at that coffee house earlier this summer, trying to pump as much money into it as I could. I built a lot of the new cabinets and tables in there. It was therapeutic, using my hands like that.” He stretched his massive palms out in front of him.

  “You’ve done a beautiful job,” Elise murmured. She gave a slight shrug. “And I guess I understand a bit of what you’re saying. Now that I’m divorced and my mother is gone, I’m trying to pick up the pieces of my life. I didn’t expect that coming here would affect the Swartzes so much.”

  Wayne tilted his head and opened his eyes. “If Dean doesn’t get to meet you properly—even if you’re not actually his daughter—then that’s his loss.”

  Elise’s heart lifted. “I don’t know. He’s had such a life without Mom and me. Maybe it’s better to leave the past in the past.”

  “Or maybe it’s better to stare truth in the face and acknowledge it,” Wayne said. “Life is messy and chaotic, and nobody really ever comes out on top, do they?”

  “That’s one thing I know for sure.” Elise laughed.

  They remained out in the sun for a number of hours. Occasionally, one of them performed swan dives off the side of the boat, showing off for one another, telling each other that they “still got it” in terms of diving.

  “We’re not young anymore, but I think we might still have a shot at the big times,” Wayne said.

  “I can’t wait,” Elise said.

  After they’d latched the boat back to the dock, Elise tried to drum up the courage to ask Wayne what he’d meant about his loss. What had happened? Who was Tara? But he flashed her that same handsome smile and said, “I’m famished. Want to grab a burger?”

  All she could do was shrug and say, “That’s exactly what I want,” and head off down Main Street alongside him. Exactly once, his hand brushed against hers, and electricity shot through her limbs.

  She’d never felt like this before.

  But they were playing pretend in a life that wasn’t hers.

  And he was probably right.

  Soon, she would have to face facts and return home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following morning, Elise received a call from Officer Cutler.

  She took it on the back porch swing with a cup of coffee in her hand and one of Wayne’s flannels wrapped around her shoulders.

  Admittedly, she leaned a little too hard into this other reality.

  “Good morning,” she said after Officer Cutler revealed himself. “How are you doing?”

  “Just fine, thanks,” he said.

  “And the investigation?”

  “Still going through all the clues,” he said. “The place was pretty badly burned, and we don’t have a lot to go on.”

  “Beyond Alex’s opinion that I was the arsonist, of course,” Elise said.

  This made Officer Cutler bite his tongue for a moment. Silence hummed between them.

  “I called because there’s a letter here for you,” Officer Cutler said. “I wasn’t sure where you’d ended up and wasn’t sure where to send it along.”

  A letter?

  Elise took her time to style her hair, line her eyes with eyeliner and mascara, and gloss up her lips before she took the now-familiar route to the police station. When she entered, she found Officer Cutler in the midst of a feast of macaroni and cheese. Apparently, it was left over from a meal he’d cooked his girls the night before.

  “I’m a mess right now,” he admitted, dotting his lips with a napkin. “It’s the end of the tourist season, and we just don’t have anything to do anymore. I’m filling my time with carbs.”

  “Delicious carbs,” Elise offered.

  Officer Cutler splayed his hand across his stomach and blinked up toward the corner of the office. Behind him hung a photograph Elise hadn’t noticed the day before. He and the rest of the police force were celebrating the end of a hot dog eating contest. Ketchup and mustard covered their faces.

  “Anyway. You mentioned that you had a letter for me?”

  “Right! Right.” Officer Cutler popped up from his chair, turned around, and marched toward the far corner. As he turned, Elise spotted several fairy stickers pressed against the back end of his pant leg.

  She considered telling him.

  But she didn’t want to ruin the joke for the girls.

  “Here we are,” Officer Cutler said. He dropped the letter in front of her.

  “Fancy envelope,” Elise breathed, and then she lifted it. The envelope was made of something like parchment, like a mix between paper and linen. It had been closed with a wax seal.

  “Yeah, well. He likes to do things a little bit fancier around here. It’s just his way,” Officer Cutler added absently.

  “Whose way?”

  “Dean Swartz’s.”

  Elise’s throat closed up. She turned the envelope to read her name written out in what looked like professional penmanship. Elise. Did he know? Had Alex told him what she was up to?

  “I’m sure he just feels guilty about the fire,” Officer Cutler said. “He’s a busy man, but he’s never too busy to add a personal touch.”

  “Thank you,” Elise said as she stood. The letter shook in her quivering hands. “And let me know again if there’s anything I can do for the investigation.”

  “Of course.” Officer Cutler stabbed his fork again into his macaroni, chewed contemplatively, and then added, “By the way, I know about the stickers on my pants. They don’t think I know, but I do. You’re the only person I’ll see today, so you get the full show. When I get home, they’ll each collapse on the ground with giggles. It’s the best part of my day.”

  Elise gave Officer Cutler a genuine smile.

  “You’re a good dad,” she said. “Much better than my ex-husband ever was.”

  Officer Cutler shrugged. “It’s the greatest privilege in the world.”

  Elise walked out of the police station with this in mind.

  The greatest privilege in the world.

  Sean had never said anything like that.

  For most of her babies’ early lives, it had just been Elise and Allison. Sometimes, her mother had teased that she was their daddy. “We live in a land of women,” her mother had cooed to them. “We don’t need that whole other half. Except for you, Bradley. We need you.”

  Elise walked in a daydream toward the docks. She sat on a bench and gazed out across the water, holding the letter in her hand. She had the strangest fear that the wind would take it and force it out across the waves. She imagined jumping in after it, swimming as fast as she could to retrieve it, then struggling to read the wet and ink-smeared pages.

  This was the first contact she’d ever received from her father.

  Elise used one of her hair clips to tear through the thick envelope.

  She took a deep breath as she unfolded it.

  Elise,

  It has come to my attention that you were the only guest at my bed and breakfast, Willow Grove, at the time of its tragedy.

  I’m so grateful that you are all right and that no one else was injured.

  I must apologize that I’m only writing this letter now. For some reason, the fire itself was only reported to me last evening. Otherwise, I would have jumped into action much more quickly.

  I’d like to invite you for dinner at my home as an apology.

  I’d also like to give you keys to another of my bed and breakfast rentals, where you can stay as long as you want at no charge.

  I hope you are enjoying our beautiful little island. It has such charm to it. A magic I’ve never been able to resist.

  My home is located near the Pontiac Trail Head, the big white one—number 67. You can’t miss it.

  I’ll be waiting for you at seven.

  If you choose not to come, if you choose to leave the island, if your plans take you elsewhere, then I wish you well. Please get in contact with me through Officer Cutler to ensure that you receive some sort of payment for your troubles.

  Yours,

 

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