It was Daniel who’d first brought the old bird into their lives, and once she was there, she refused to walk out. She was intent on taking care of them, and in a way, they took care of her too. After all, Maggie never had kids of her own.
If what Louisa said was true, they were all about to suffer a great loss.
He let out a heavy sigh. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Look, whatever happened, it didn’t involve Maggie. She was important to all of us. She’s still important to me. And if there’s any way I can make this happen for her, I’m going to.”
“My mom’s finally in a good place, Lou.”
Her eyes shot to his at the sound of her nickname on his lips. Old habits.
“Maybe leave her out of this.”
She shifted. “Let’s talk about the fundraiser.”
He knew in that moment she wasn’t going to let it rest. Louisa Chambers didn’t let things rest. It was against her very nature to give in. She’d gotten an idea in her head, and there was no way to convince her it was a bad one.
“So the Inaugural Jackson Wirth Coast Guard Regatta,” she said.
“That title could use some work.”
Her forehead crinkled. “Be quiet. It’s a great idea. Your master chief even said so.”
“Good luck getting the rest of the guys on board.”
Her face fell. A chink in her confident armor, and he’d been the one to put it there. Nice.
“What is your business again, exactly?” He tried to keep his tone from sounding irritated.
Louisa snapped her jaw shut and looked at him. “The Good Life,” she said.
“But what do you do?”
“It’s a private concierge business.”
“Does that include planning fundraisers?”
“Not usually, no.”
He squared off with her. “Then why are you doing this?”
She tucked the paper with her typed-up notes about the fundraiser back inside the folder. “It’s a good job.”
“And what, you need the money?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “I just started my business a year ago.”
“But you had enough money to buy Seaside?”
She shifted. “My grandpa passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He left me some money.”
“So you bought our old cottage?” Why was he pressing the issue? He didn’t care. It was great for her to live there—it was all in the past. But then maybe it wasn’t. Maybe knowing she was living in the last place he’d seen his father alive had burrowed its way under his skin.
“I’m sorry, Cody.”
“Just tell me why, Louisa.”
She didn’t respond. Really, what could she say? No reason would be good enough, and she probably knew it. She should’ve left the cottage in someone else’s hands and she should leave his family out of the plans for Maggie’s party.
He’d call his mom and tell her about Maggie’s health. She and his sister could say goodbye their own way. Louisa had no idea what they’d all been through. How long it had taken them to find a new normal. And he wasn’t about to tell her because it was none of her business.
“I should go.” Louisa stood. “I have a big anniversary party on a yacht tonight.”
He stood too.
“I’ll be in touch.” She started for the door, but before she walked through, she stopped, reached into her bag, drew something out, and turned back toward him.
“It would mean a lot to Maggie if you came.” She handed him a white envelope. On it, in the same frilly handwriting, was his name.
She didn’t make eye contact before she turned and left the room. But once she was gone, a part of him wanted to call her back in. Because as angry as he still was, there was something about Louisa that made him feel at peace.
And he hadn’t been at peace since the day his father died.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE TIMMONS ANNIVERSARY PARTY went off without a hitch. The older couple couldn’t have been more complimentary to Louisa and Ally.
“We nailed it,” Ally said, halfway through the party.
Louisa murmured a reply, but mostly she couldn’t stop watching the beautiful couple of honor. They were surrounded by friends and family. Children and grandchildren and siblings and people they’d known their whole lives.
Four members of their wedding party shared memories of that happy day fifty years prior, and Mr. and Mrs. Timmons beamed.
Louisa had hosted parties before, many of them celebrating a wedding anniversary. Sometimes the couples seemed to be putting on airs. Throwing a party to make themselves look good in front of their friends. Once, she caught a husband upstairs in a compromising position with his daughter’s college roommate while his wife accepted congratulations from a house full of guests.
But the Timmons family was different. They were the kind of family Louisa wished she had. Genuine and honest and loving.
Around eight that evening, as the sun hung low in the sky, sending light like shimmering diamonds across the ocean, all the boats in the harbor began honking, and the people on board clapped and cheered in celebration of the sweet old couple who’d loved each other for over fifty years.
It was a little surprise Louisa had planned for them, and they were both equally delighted when they realized the honking and clapping were for them.
The captain had brought their yacht to the exact location Louisa had asked him to, and seconds later, fireworks started in the sky above the island. More cheers from the Timmons family rose into the night air, filling the sky—and Louisa’s heart. This was why she loved her job.
She slipped away toward the stern, honking and shouting mixing with the crackle of fireworks overhead. Arthur and Tawny Morris waved as their sailboat passed. Louisa lifted a hand, waving back her thanks for their participation.
Another crack overhead drew her eyes, and as the firework disintegrated into nothing, her gaze fell, catching on the Coast Guard rescue boat cruising slowly by. A rhythmic, overzealous pounding reverberated in her chest as her eyes scanned the men on the boat. The captain sounded the horn in celebration, and the Coasties cheered.
As the boat made its pass, her eyes locked on to Cody’s and didn’t let go. He stood still as a statue, near the back of the boat, watching her. Another honk. Another round of applause. Another firework.
And then the rescue boat grew smaller on the horizon until finally he was gone.
It had been over a week since Louisa had almost drowned, and she’d yet to sleep through the night.
The dreams that woke her were less like nightmares and more like reliving her worst fears. Every time she closed her eyes, the waves forced her under again. Twice she’d woken up gasping for air.
Was this normal? Should she talk to somebody about it?
She attributed her stress to the fact that she had to give a presentation to the men stationed at Brant Point later that day. Her stomach turned at the thought.
She’d given dozens of presentations over the years. Pitch meetings with clients and business owners. In her previous job, she’d sold the hotel and all it had to offer along with her brilliant ideas for a perfect vacation or party to countless visitors and potential visitors.