Grams never gets sick. She's strong. I just spoke to her a few hours ago. I have to go. I have to see her." Alli looked wildly around the room, searching for something. Sam reached out and closed her fingers over the keys she still held in her hand.
"Easy," he said. "I'll take you."
She looked into his eyes with desperation. "She has to be all right. She has to be."
"She's a fighter, Alli."
"But she's seventy-six years old."
"Mommy, is Grams going to die?" Megan asked. Alli opened her arms as Megan ran into a tight hug. "I hope not, honey. I really hope not."
They clung together for a long minute, and Sam itched to join them, but he couldn't. Alli had made it clear that she didn't want him in her life.
Finally, Alli set Megan aside. "Go get your things, honey. We need to leave."
Megan ran out of the room, and Alli slowly straightened. Sam dug his hands into his pockets to stop himself from doing anything foolish, like hugging her.
"I can't lose Grams," Alli whispered, her eyes filled with fear. "She's all I have left of my family."
Sam didn't say a word. It wasn't true, because Alli wasn't alone. She had a sister—a sister who was coming home. He couldn't stop the sudden quickening of his pulse.
Alli's eyes suddenly changed, and he wondered if she could read his mind.
"Oh, my God! William called Tessa, didn't he?"
Apparently she could read his mind, or she'd simply added up the equation. Despite the animosity between the two sisters, Phoebe MacGuire adored both of her granddaughters.
"Yes, he called Tessa." It felt strange to say her name out loud. And stranger still to think of seeing Tessa again, her blond hair, her blue eyes, her generous smile. Not that she'd be smiling at him.
"Is she coming back?" Alli asked, her face so tense she could barely get out the words.
"Yes."
"Then those divorce papers can't come a minute too soon."
Sam touched her arm, but she shrugged him away.
"Don't touch me, Sam. You don't have to pretend you care about me anymore. We both know it isn't true."
"I married you, didn't I?"
"There it is again, your favorite refrain—you married me. That was your gift to me. And I'm divorcing you. That's my gift to you. Now I guess it's Tessa's turn."
----
Chapter 2
« ^ »
I t was nine hours from Milan to New York, another six to Portland, and then a couple of hours more in a plush black stretch limousine to the southern Oregon coast. As a supermodel, Tessa MacGuire was used to waking up in one city when she'd gone to sleep in another, to living on black coffee, lemon water, and lettuce. She'd become accustomed to calling her post office box home, spending the holidays with strangers, and smiling no matter how tired or unhappy or lonely she felt.
Most people thought she acted only in front of the camera, but deep down inside Tessa knew she acted almost every day of her life. And no one suspected. No one saw through the smile or the laugh or the cheerful wave. And that's the way she liked it, easy, impersonal, safe.
As Tessa looked out the window at the passing scenery, she knew she'd long ago passed safe. The meadows and dairy farms had given way to the thick forested hills, the last barrier between the valley and the coastline, her new life and her old one. Even the rivers and streams had gone from lazy and peaceful to wild and reckless, the weather changing just as quickly, the clear blue sky suddenly taken over by gray, threatening clouds. She'd heard on the news that it had rained most of the night. Maybe it would storm again. Maybe she wouldn't be able to get home.
Home. The word slipped into her mind unbidden. Tessa didn't want to think of Tucker's Landing as home, but the familiar scenery had begun to awaken her dusty, musty memories from their almost decade-long cocoon.
On impulse, Tessa lowered the window and took in a deep breath of cold, crisp air that smelled of wet pine and fresh grass. A mile or two later, her breath caught in her throat as the forest gave way to
"Easy," he said. "I'll take you."
She looked into his eyes with desperation. "She has to be all right. She has to be."
"She's a fighter, Alli."
"But she's seventy-six years old."
"Mommy, is Grams going to die?" Megan asked. Alli opened her arms as Megan ran into a tight hug. "I hope not, honey. I really hope not."
They clung together for a long minute, and Sam itched to join them, but he couldn't. Alli had made it clear that she didn't want him in her life.
Finally, Alli set Megan aside. "Go get your things, honey. We need to leave."
Megan ran out of the room, and Alli slowly straightened. Sam dug his hands into his pockets to stop himself from doing anything foolish, like hugging her.
"I can't lose Grams," Alli whispered, her eyes filled with fear. "She's all I have left of my family."
Sam didn't say a word. It wasn't true, because Alli wasn't alone. She had a sister—a sister who was coming home. He couldn't stop the sudden quickening of his pulse.
Alli's eyes suddenly changed, and he wondered if she could read his mind.
"Oh, my God! William called Tessa, didn't he?"
Apparently she could read his mind, or she'd simply added up the equation. Despite the animosity between the two sisters, Phoebe MacGuire adored both of her granddaughters.
"Yes, he called Tessa." It felt strange to say her name out loud. And stranger still to think of seeing Tessa again, her blond hair, her blue eyes, her generous smile. Not that she'd be smiling at him.
"Is she coming back?" Alli asked, her face so tense she could barely get out the words.
"Yes."
"Then those divorce papers can't come a minute too soon."
Sam touched her arm, but she shrugged him away.
"Don't touch me, Sam. You don't have to pretend you care about me anymore. We both know it isn't true."
"I married you, didn't I?"
"There it is again, your favorite refrain—you married me. That was your gift to me. And I'm divorcing you. That's my gift to you. Now I guess it's Tessa's turn."
----
Chapter 2
« ^ »
I t was nine hours from Milan to New York, another six to Portland, and then a couple of hours more in a plush black stretch limousine to the southern Oregon coast. As a supermodel, Tessa MacGuire was used to waking up in one city when she'd gone to sleep in another, to living on black coffee, lemon water, and lettuce. She'd become accustomed to calling her post office box home, spending the holidays with strangers, and smiling no matter how tired or unhappy or lonely she felt.
Most people thought she acted only in front of the camera, but deep down inside Tessa knew she acted almost every day of her life. And no one suspected. No one saw through the smile or the laugh or the cheerful wave. And that's the way she liked it, easy, impersonal, safe.
As Tessa looked out the window at the passing scenery, she knew she'd long ago passed safe. The meadows and dairy farms had given way to the thick forested hills, the last barrier between the valley and the coastline, her new life and her old one. Even the rivers and streams had gone from lazy and peaceful to wild and reckless, the weather changing just as quickly, the clear blue sky suddenly taken over by gray, threatening clouds. She'd heard on the news that it had rained most of the night. Maybe it would storm again. Maybe she wouldn't be able to get home.
Home. The word slipped into her mind unbidden. Tessa didn't want to think of Tucker's Landing as home, but the familiar scenery had begun to awaken her dusty, musty memories from their almost decade-long cocoon.
On impulse, Tessa lowered the window and took in a deep breath of cold, crisp air that smelled of wet pine and fresh grass. A mile or two later, her breath caught in her throat as the forest gave way to
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