But a party was waiting for her. And so was her guest.
***
Any concerns that Hope had about John being the odd man out had been replaced with the obvious tension that was made by Simon’s fiancée. Ever the hostess, she swiftly moved Ellie’s place between her and Gemma when she added a new place setting for Erin beside Simon.
Simon had the decency to look as uncomfortable as he should, all things considered, because given how much time Ellie and Simon had been spending together lately, she couldn’t completely fault Ellie for developing feelings for him again.
Gemma only focused on Leo, and Hope supposed that this was a good thing. She giggled a little too easily, and kept smoothing her hair, even though it was clear she’d taken greater care than usual in styling it. She liked him. And from the little smiles passed between them, Hope thought the feeling might be mutual.
From Ellie, however, there were no smiles.
Perhaps noticing the tension, John said, “This is a lovely house you all have here.”
“Too bad that Gemma wants to sell it,” Ellie said.
Gemma flashed her a look, but Ellie just miserably picked up her glass and took another long sip of sangria. Across the table, Simon adjusted the neck of his shirt.
“Is that true?” John asked. The space between his brows furrowed. “I guess that means you wouldn’t be coming back to the island?”
But instead of addressing Gemma with this question, he was addressing her. Hope poked at her dinner—fresh Michigan whitefish in a light seasoning—and said, “Well, nothing has been decided yet.”
If she didn’t know better, she might just say that Ellie had slipped her a smile.
She pulled in a breath, deciding that really, it was almost time for dessert. Normally it would bother her to see a meal she had so carefully prepared be consumed so quickly, but tonight, she was rather pleased to see Simon all but inhaling his food.
“I’ll get the tarts,” she said, standing to clear.
“Let me,” Ellie said, pushing back her chair with such force it almost tipped over. She gave Hope one of those silent, pointed looks that their mother used to give to them if they had their elbows on the tables, and Hope knew a hint when she saw one.
“Thanks!” she said brightly. She scanned the table. Even Gemma seemed tense now since Ellie had decided to resurrect their argument.
“So, Leo,” Hope said, settling on the one person she knew least. “What brought you to Evening Island?”
Gemma turned to look at Leo with interest, as Ellie cleared each of their plates.
“That was delicious,” Simon said to her, with a hopeful smile.
“Don’t thank me,” Ellie ground out. “Hope made it.”
Oh dear, Hope thought, taking another sip of her drink.
Feeling the need to smooth things over quickly, she said to Simon, “I hear you have your own law practice now. What kind of law do you practice?”
“I’m a contract lawyer,” Simon said. He gestured to Erin, who had been perfectly pleasant but very quiet all evening. “Erin is too.”
An office romance then? Or perhaps they went as far back as law school?
Hope decided not to probe. “And Leo? Have you always been a…”
But Leo was shaking his head. “I’m also an attorney, actually.”
“Really?” Gemma spoke with such shock that Hope wondered just exactly what they’d discussed in their little chats these past two weeks.
“What kind of law did you practice?” she asked.
His face turned a little ruddy as Ellie delivered him a slice of the strawberry tart that Hope had made this morning. “I don’t practice law anymore.”
“I don’t think Evening Island has a lawyer,” Hope said, wondering how much had changed in her absence.
“Don’t look at me,” Simon said good-naturedly. “I’ll be going back to Philly at the end of the summer.” He slanted a glance at Erin. “Well, more like the end of next month.”
Ellie addressed him for the first time all night. A dessert plate was resting in the palm of each hand, and from the wrath in her eyes, Hope was a little worried that she might do something crazy, like put a pie in his face.
But she just said sweetly, “Is your mother feeling better then?” To the rest of the group, she said, “Simon came to the island to spend time with his mother. She was unwell over the winter.”
“Nothing serious,” Simon said as he accepted the plate from Erin—or rather, caught it before it hit the table. “But…it’s time to get back to life.”
Time to get back to life. Hope thought about that statement as she cut into her own slice of pie and let the conversation go on around her, sliding into safer topics like the most popular spots on the island.
She didn’t relax again until Simon and Erin had left, and Ellie went up to her room, and Hope was standing on the porch alone with John. There was a sink full of dishes and a kitchen in need of cleaning, but for once, she couldn’t let herself worry about any of it. That was part of her other life. A life that she didn’t want to get back to any time soon.
“That was a wonderful party,” John said, but his grin quirked and Hope squinted her eyes ruefully, giving him a playful swat on the arm.
“Please. It was a disaster. I’m a disaster every time I see you.”
“Maybe I bring out the worst in you,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.
“I actually think you bring out the best in me,” she said, and just like that, all banter came to a halt.
“Well. I had a lot of fun,” he said, his voice turning husky as the merriment was replaced with sincerity in his eyes. He reached down and took her hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to shake it, a proper greeting, and a proper farewell.
Only he didn’t shake it. He just held it. And looked at her.
“Well, thank you again for coming,” she said, clearing her throat. They dropped hands, and she almost wished that they hadn’t. But staying that way…She pulled in a breath.
John seemed to hesitate, and for a moment, she was afraid he going to apologize, or take back the gesture. Instead, he said, “If you’re free one day this week, I’d love to show you around the hotel. Get your thoughts.”
She tried not to show how eager she was, or that this was all suddenly moving very quickly. She’d still promised some design ideas to Darcy early in the week, and she used that as an excuse to stall. “Wednesday or Thursday?”
He grinned, his shoulders seeming to deflate on her response. “Thursday would be perfect. Does two work?”
The girls would be napping at two. She’d go over then. “Perfect,” she said.
Because it was.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gemma
The fireflies were out in full force, dotting the sky, and the only lights to be found aside from the moon in the distance were the dwindling candles that remained on the patio. The house was quiet, as quiet as all the other homes that lined West End Road, most of which were not yet inhabited for the season.
“I always forget how quiet it can be here,” Gemma said, looking out onto what she could make of the water.