Persuaded Read Free

to the airport in the morning, dearie?”
    “No.
I’m parking in one of those discount long-term lots a few miles away from the
airport, then catching a shuttle in.”
    “You’re
sure? It must be costing a fortune.” Maude was the queen of frugal.
    “One
of the other teachers at work owns a lot and gave me a deal. Fifty bucks for
the summer.”
    Maude
looked impressed in spite of herself. “Well, that’s one less thing to worry
you, I suppose. I’ll just stop off at the loo on our way out, poppet,” Maude
told her, heading to the restroom.
    Hanna
stood and cleared the table, then refilled both drinks. Outside the restaurant,
she embraced Maude, causing her to tear up.
    “Enjoy
your holiday, dumpling,” said Maude with a dignified sniffle. She kissed Hanna
on both cheeks and then headed to her own car.
    For
the first time since waking from that dreadful good dream this morning, a buzz
of anticipation filled Hanna for her upcoming vacation.
     
     
    THREE
    DOCKING LACONIA
     
    He had distinguished
himself . . . and must now . . . have made a handsome fortune.
    —Jane Austen, Persuasion
     
    Derick
Wentworth slowed the Laconia to wakeless speed as he entered Old Lyme
Harbor. To him it seemed that the other boats, bobbing gently from their docked
positions, watched him pass with wary eyes. He shook off the sensation that he
was being scrutinized, attributing his paranoia to the fact that he’d hardly
been out of the media’s eye during the last year. Win the America’s Cup three
times in a row? That barely made ESPN magazine. But suddenly deciding
that you needed something different and dropping out of the competition at the
last minute? You were the cover story. No one understood that he just needed
something else; that he felt there was another place he had to be—almost as if
he was late for something.
    The
media had concocted all sorts of sordid tales about why he’d suddenly
disappeared: an unfortunate pass through the Bermuda Triangle, his relocating to
Prague to finally cohabitate with his imaginary supermodel girlfriend, and his
personal favorite, rehab. Derick had never touched illegal drugs in his life,
and it had taken a total of one hangover after a night of careless drinking,
puking, and idiotic behavior to convince him that alcohol was never meant to be
something you drank for fun. Since that night, rubbing alcohol and Nyquil were
the only forms of the stuff he had any use for.
    Spotting
the empty slip he had rented for the summer, Derick swung wide and nosed into
the narrow space, bracing his hands against the aging wood to protect his baby.
Then he picked up the mooring line and secured her to the dock. As both the jib
and mainsail were already rolled up and tied in place, there was very little to
do. He made sure all of his belongings were safely stowed and locked in the
cabin, then palmed his phone and stepped onto the dock.
    He
hadn’t yet decided if he would be bunking with his sister and her husband,
Sophie and Adam Croft, at their recently acquired beach house, or sleeping on
the Laconia . Reasoning that he could easily come grab his stuff later,
he texted Sophie to let her know he was on his way.
    The
first thing he saw as he made his way toward the residential section of the
beach was an arc of rock that stretched out into the water. At the end of the
breakwater stood a stout lighthouse that gave Derick a flare of yearning to
explore the spot. It had a lonely air about it, so secluded and not easily
accessible, that it beckoned to him like open arms. Filing it away for later,
Derick pushed past the breakwater, coming upon a pier just a few hundred yards
beyond. A long stretch of open sand and water came next, then a row of houses
that had been scrunched together with their back porches opening directly to
the sand.
    A
towering row of lush green trees stood guard at the fronts of the houses,
blocking them from view. Sophie had told him how remote the little beach was
and that it was a