“Anything I’ve heard of?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Not unless you read romance novels.”
His jaw seemed to harden. “Can’t say that I do.” He studied her for a moment. “So you believe in all that stuff?”
“Stuff?”
“Happy endings and all that,” he said, narrowing his gaze.
Even if she hadn’t found it for herself, she knew that it existed for some. Hope was proof of that. She shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody?”
“Not everyone,” he said briskly, and she had the distinct impression that she had hit a nerve.
She gave a little smile, feeling a kinship that bordered on a connection with this man. “That’s why I’m here for the summer,” she explained. “I’m finishing up my next book.” Finishing up. She nearly snorted on that exaggeration. “There’s a room upstairs that I like, with a view of the lake, and well, it’s working out better than my place in Chicago.” That much was true. She was at least producing words, which she hadn’t done since Sean left her.
Leo stood on the grass looking up at her, thrusting his hands into his pockets, little beads of sweat dotting his forehead, and Gemma took this as a reason to invite him in.
“Can I offer you a glass of cold lemonade? I owe you at least that much for helping out with Gran’s vegetable garden.” She was stalling, she told herself, not flirting. She was avoiding the page.
“A break would be nice. I’ve pretty much been at it over there since the day I stepped foot off the ferry.”He came up the stairs until he was side by side on the porch with her. She could feel the heat off his skin, smell the grass on his body.
She swallowed hard and yanked the door open so hard that it banged against the hinges. Embarrassed, she caught his look of surprise. “Darn thing. Just one of many things that needs some updating around here.”
She led him back into the kitchen and poured them each a tall glass of lemonade with extra ice.
“I see your fridge light is out,” he observed, fighting off a smile. “I could fix that, but I have a feeling that you’re capable of screwing in a light bulb.”
She laughed. “Capable, yes. It’s finding the time that’s the problem.”
“I have time,” he said mildly. “There’s a lot of time on island time.”
“What brings you to the island?” She saw the set of his jaw, and immediately realized that she had overstepped. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I can be nosy. Professional habit.”
“It’s okay, I’m just not one for talking about the past.” His brow burrowed before he took another sip from his glass.
“That makes two of us,” she said with a grin. She cocked her head toward the parlor. “There are a lot of things that need work around here. Maybe I could show you around?”
She led him through the rooms of the first floor, commenting on the items that would need tended to and fixed up: loose doorknobs, broken window sashes, appliances in desperate need of replacement that would have to make do with a repair.
Finally, they ended up in the parlor, with its shelves of books and the grand piano in the corner of the big bay window. Someone had set a vase of fresh flowers beside it. Hope, no doubt. She was thoughtful like that. She had a way of making any house feel like a home.
Leo noticed a copy of her book on the shelf and picked it up, turning it over in his large hands, his expression blank. Gemma felt her cheeks burn. She’d written that book at a happier time in her life. She didn’t like to think about that time anymore, and she didn’t like to talk about it either.
Eager to avoid the topic, she scanned the shelves, only then noticing the dozen or so other copies that Gran must have bought, her heart tugging at the silent gesture of support. She noticed Leo following her gaze and said quickly, “I’ll donate some to the local library. If they’re interested.”
He frowned at her as she took the book. “I can’t imagine they wouldn’t be.”
She shrugged. He was probably right, but she struggled to convince herself of this. “Sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of your own work when you’re too close it.”
He gave her a long look. “Not a bad problem to have though, is that? Something you care about?”
“Depends how you look at it, I suppose,” she said, her mind trailing back to Sean. She was so close to him she hadn’t even seen that he had fallen out of love with her, or maybe, never loved her at all. “Sometimes it’s scarier to care.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” he said, holding up his glass to hers, and she again wondered about him. He had a past. Everyone did. But not many people’s pasts brought them to a remote island in the Great Lakes.
Yet somehow, hers had.
“This house…” she started, and then stopped. “Well, we’re probably going to sell it.” Not probably, she told herself.
He looked surprised at the news. “Aw, but it’s such a piece of history,” he said, stirring up the doubts that were already there. “Ellie never mentioned it when I’ve bumped into her.”
“Well, I live in Chicago and so does my sister Hope. And Ellie…” Here she paused and blew out a breath. He’d seen the vegetable garden, hadn’t he? “It doesn’t make sense to hold onto it. It’s too large, for starters.”
He looked around and then nodded. “These old places are hard to maintain, especially up here on the island. But I’d buy it myself if I could afford it.”
So he was planning on staying on Evening Island, was he? She tried not to think about that too much.
“Do you have family here?” she asked.
To her surprise, he nodded. “You asked about Edward the other day. He’s my grandfather.”
“He is?” Gemma was astonished, but now, studying Leo’s face more carefully, she saw the resemblance. The same strong features. The same kind eyes. “I don’t remember ever seeing you on the island.”
“I never visited before. But my mother summered here as a girl before my grandfather moved here full time, and she always spoke fondly of the island. I know she wished she had come back more often.”
Gemma knew the feeling all too well. She smiled. “Well, your grandfather was always kind to my grandmother. And to me and my sisters, too.” She made a note to seek him out before she left the island.
Left the island. She pulled in a breath, not liking the way that settled.
“Come on out to the porch,” she said. “It’s stifling in here. I’m afraid of how bad it will be come July.”
Not that she would know, she realized, feeling suddenly sad at the thought. She couldn’t impose on Ellie forever, and if they were going to list the house, they’d have to do it before the weather turned, anyway. Summer was tourist season. People would come, fall in love with the island, and be tempted into returning on a regular basis.
She’d have to talk to Ellie again soon.
“You don’t work out here?” Leo looked around the porch with approval. “If I lived here, I’d be out here all day.”
It occurred to her that she didn’t know where he lived, but he was private, and determined to remain so, it seemed.