Chapter One
It won't be long, Tucker. This town is headed for the big time," Charlie said. Lucy watched her husband toss a copy of the Cape Light Messenger onto the diner's counter. It landed right next to the plate of his favorite customer.
Officer Tucker Tulley sat on his usual stool, a fork in hand aimed at a plate of eggs over easy, bacon, and rye toast. He paused to scan the front page. "Oh, that movie business. Is that what got you wound up this morning?"
"I'll say I'm wound up. This village is going to be famous. And the diner, too, if I have anything to do about it."
Tucker managed a bite before he answered. "So you say, Charlie. Some folks don't agree. They don't want a film crew taking over the place. There's bound to be inconvenience, not to mention gawking fans rushing in for miles around. In the middle of Christmastime."
Tucker had patrolled the streets of Cape Light for nearly forty years. He spoke little but listened a lot. He knew, probably better than anyone, how his fellow citizens felt about important matters. He had an even keener sense of popular opinion than Charlie, who'd been mayor for the past four years. Charlie sometimes thought of Tucker as his automatic polling center.
The debate had begun months ago, when the film production company scouted the area as a possible location. When the group contacted village hall, Charlie persuaded the village board of trustees to grant the permits and permissions over many objections. He was sure the visit would benefit the town.
Lucy sided with Tucker, but not because of parking problems or an invasion of onlookers. She had her own reasons-private reasons she would never admit to anyone. Certainly not to her husband and his pal. She didn't offer her opinion on the question and had no wish to take part in the debate. With any luck, she would be out of the diner and on the way to her first patient appointment in a minute or two.
She had only stopped by to pick up a set of patient files she'd left at the diner by accident on Saturday, when she had squeezed in a waitressing shift around the schedule of her real job as a visiting nurse. She did not miss her former career at the diner one bit, but she sometimes returned when Charlie was shorthanded.
She recalled working on the file Saturday, in between orders, and was practically positive it had ended up somewhere behind the counter. Keeping her head down-literally and figuratively-Lucy searched the low shelves below the countertop where glasses and dishes were stored. Flying under the radar made it easy to avoid the conversation between Charlie and Tucker.
Charlie took the newspaper back, his expression delighted as he read aloud, "'Lights, camera, action! Hollywood is coming to Cape Light!'
"People always say they don't want this sort of thing," he told Tucker. "But when it happens, they love it."
Tucker slapped a butter pat on a slice of toast and took a bite. "What do you think, Lucy?"
Lucy had just spotted the missing file under a pile of menus and grabbed it. She popped up from behind the counter like a meerkat. "Isn't this weather crazy?" she said, deliberately changing the subject. "I'm glad I grabbed my light jacket. I heard it might hit fifty this afternoon."
New Englanders never tired of talking about the weather, and Lucy thought the ploy worth a try. Especially with Tucker, who was outdoors walking his beat most of the day.
"It's that global warming." Tucker chewed with a thoughtful expression. "Skipped the thermals this morning-good thing."
Charlie looked baffled, then annoyed. "Do we really need to talk about your underwear issues, Tucker? With all this excitement going on?"
He glanced at his wife and waved his hand. "Lucy isn't interested in the movie crew coming. She's told me a few times. Right, honey?" He turned back to Tucker before Lucy could answer. "That's fine. Everyone's entitled to their opinion. But it doesn't change the facts. This movie will put our little village on the map. Right up there with those posh zip codes on Cape Cod and the Vineyard."
"We're already on the map, Charlie. A big red dot, right between Essex and Newburyport." Another voice joined the debate. Lucy turned to see Tucker's wife-and her best friend-Fran, stroll up to the counter.
"Hey, you." Fran greeted her with a familiar smile. "I thought you had an early patient today?"
"I just swung by to pick something up." Lucy waved her prize. "Maybe we can catch up tonight. I'll call you."
Fran looked confused by Lucy's rush. "Sure. I'll be home."
Lucy could tell Fran's radar was up, and she knew why, too. Their friendship went back to high school-though not quite as far back as Charlie and Tucker's, who had bonded over building blocks on the first day of kindergarten, so the story went. With Tucker doing the heavy lifting and Charlie directing, Lucy had no doubt.
She and Fran had a different sort of friendship. Fran knew her and loved her, just as she was, and Lucy felt the same about Fran.
"We were talking about the movie crew that's coming soon," Charlie said, sliding the newspaper toward Fran.
"Charlie can hardly wait," Tucker added.
Fran's eyes grew wide and she nodded. "Neither can I. Especially for the celebrity spotting. Craig Hamilton, for instance?" She caught Lucy's gaze as she was trying to maneuver her way past Charlie.
Charlie had fixed Fran her usual coffee-to-go without being asked. He tapped the lid on the cup and set it in front of her.
"Hamilton is a little past the heartthrob stage, don't you think?" Tucker said. "I hear he's playing a father role."
Fran laughed. "You forget, Tucker-his fans have gotten older, too. I think he looks better than ever." She gazed at the photo in the paper and then at Lucy again. But she didn't ask her opinion. Thank goodness, Lucy thought.
Tucker studied the photo. "Those can't be his real teeth. And you know that's a toupee, or a weave?"
Charlie waved a hand, dismissing the critique. "Fake teeth, bald as an egg, doesn't matter. He's a hometown hero. That counts for a lot."
Tucker was still not convinced. "Not exactly our hometown. He grew up in Newburyport."
"Close enough," Charlie insisted. "The article says he got his start right here in the Cape Light Community Theater." Charlie peered down at the newspaper again. "He had the lead in Oklahoma!-right before he left to make his mark."
Tucker squinted. "Must have missed that one. I don't remember our little theater doing Oklahoma!"
Lucy did, all too clearly. Way back when she aspired to be an actress. A silly, immature ambition, a fever that had taken over for a short time, like a twenty-four-hour bug-but one that had burned brightly. She had joined the amateur theater group after high school and taken part in a few shows, including a role in the chorus of Oklahoma! Farm Girl Number Three?
She had been one among many in the cast and on the stage. Craig Hamilton was the romantic lead, and even at that phase of his career, whenever he stepped into the spotlight, his presence was electric and commanding. Everyone said he could make it in Hollywood. And so he had.
"It must have been over thirty years ago," Charlie replied. "Who cares? The point is, we can definitely claim him as a favorite son. Let's tack this page on the bulletin board. I'll ask him to autograph it when he comes in."
"Assuming he does come in," Tucker added.
Charlie didn't seem to hear him. He turned to Lucy, who felt trapped. No matter which direction she moved, Charlie blocked her path from behind the counter.
"Hey, hon. Mind taking care of that? I got my hands full here."
Lucy nearly laughed. So far, he'd only served one order, and that was to Tucker. Trudy, the regular waitress, had been handling all the rest.
"I have to get to work, Charlie. If you could get out of the way and let me pass?"
Charlie's brow furrowed, surprised by her reaction. Lucy was always so easygoing and rarely objected to any request. "Sure, sure. Let me squeeze by before you run me over." He scuttled to the far end of the counter and headed for the big swinging doors that opened to the kitchen.
Lucy grabbed her cup of take-out coffee, the errant file tucked under her arm, and headed for the door. Fran had also picked up her coffee, and now she swiped a slice of Tucker's toast. She hurried after Lucy. "Wait up, Lu. I'll walk you out."
Lucy glanced over her shoulder as Fran followed. She held open the door, and they stepped out onto Main Street. Lucy knew Fran wanted to talk-and what she wanted to talk about. But she wasn't in the mood, and she wasn't ready for this conversation.
Luckily, her car was parked in the opposite direction from Fran's office at Bowman Realty.
"My car's just up the street, near Pet Port. You have a good day. I'll call you later," she promised.
Fran shook her head. "You're not getting away that easily. Not from me, my dear. Charlie and Tucker might be oblivious. But I know you, Lucy. I know what's up."
"Nothing is up." Lucy shrugged. "I wish you'd believe me."
"Is that why you jumped out of your skin when I mentioned his name? Don't you want to get some closure, finally? Don't you want to talk to him? Just once?"
"Talk to him? That's the last thing I want to do. I don't even watch his movies. You know that."
Fran shook her head, her gaze full of understanding, even sympathy, though Lucy could tell she was still not convinced.
"I've said this before, but I'll say it again: The odds of Craig Hamilton returning to Cape Light must be one in ten million. Maybe even higher. But it's happening. You need to face it, Lucy. You need to reconnect and talk things out. You'll regret it forever if you don't."
Lucy bit her lip to hold back a sharp reply that had sprung up from somewhere deep inside, some painful place that had never quite healed. She wasn't mad at Fran. Her dear friend had good intentions. Lucy just didn't agree, and Fran couldn't seem to understand why.
"I know you mean well, and I love you for it. You're the only person in the entire world who knows the whole story. And you helped me so much when it happened. I'll always be grateful for that," she said sincerely. "But I'm over it, and I have no intention of going back there. No way, no how." Lucy paused and looked into her friend's dark eyes. "I hope we can drop it now once and for all. I don't want to talk about this again."
Fran's eyes flickered with disbelief. "All right. I'll leave it for today. Let's see how you feel once you see him face-to-face. If you're really as unfazed as you claim, not another word. I promise."
"You drive a hard bargain, lady." Lucy had to smile. "A good thing in the real estate business, I bet." Though sometimes a sticky point in our friendship, she didn't add. "If that's what it takes to convince you, all I can say is 'You'll see.' Now give me a hug, old thing. I'm sorry I got cross."
The women hugged and said goodbye. Lucy quickly walked the rest of the way to her car and headed to her first patient of the day. Rosemary Holmes, a seventy-year-old retired teacher, who was recovering from hip surgery. She lived alone on Ivy Street, a short distance from the heart of the village. Lucy had been visiting her every day since she had come home from the hospital last week.
Rosemary was an easy client who required little more than a check of her vital signs and blood sugar, plus a bandage change. But Lucy always spent time with her to provide a bit of companionship.
Strictly speaking, she wasn't required or even supposed to do that. She had a schedule to keep and other patients waiting. But a big reason she had switched from working in a hospital to working for a visiting nurse service was the one-on-one relationships with the patients. It was the facet of her profession she enjoyed most, and she truly believed her concern and attention contributed as much to the patients' healing as any of their medications.
Maybe she spent too much time with her patients. But many, like Rosemary, lived alone and had only a thin safety net of social connections. Lucy couldn't stop herself from trying to cheer them up a bit and to reassure them someone was thinking of them and cared about their recovery.
She knew many of her colleagues kept a tight lid on that side of nursing. Some boasted they flew through five, six, or even eight patient visits a day, all in time to pick up their children after school. Lucy knew she would never work that way. She was often in the field until after seven and then worked at home, completing reports for each case. She had never been a clock watcher, which had been a good thing while working at the diner as a waitress for all those years. It was a good thing now, too.
Lucy valued the years she'd spent at Southport Hospital and had gained a deep knowledge of nursing there, working mainly on the general surgery floor. But last summer she decided to switch tracks and move out into the field. She still did the occasional shift at the hospital if they were short on staff, but she was glad she had made the change. Working one-on-one with a patient in their own home was much more personal and rewarding than hospital nursing, which was so often a hurried business, with her patients coming and going in the blink of an eye.
She loved to take care of people and to help make them healthy. It was the reason she had been drawn to nursing in the first place. How many years had she fantasized about becoming a nurse? From the time she was a little girl, playing with her dolls and stuffed animals. When she got older, there had been that brief detour into acting. But her first dream, her real calling, had never faded, though she'd dismissed it as too far out of reach-the years of school and training. The expense of it all. One summer, already well into her thirties, married with two little boys and only two years of college to her credit, Lucy had been encouraged by a younger waitress to go for her dream. If she didn't make it, at least she would have tried.
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