Chapter One
It wasn't her real home, not the way most people meant that word. It wasn't the remote, dusty village of Deep Wells, Arizona, where she lived with her husband and children, or even the Boston suburb where she had been raised. Liza had only lived on Angel Island a little over four years before she and Daniel were married and moved away. But as they drew closer, she felt a key slowly turn in a lock somewhere deep within and a door swinging open. She felt excited and peaceful at the same time. Angel Island was not her official zip code, but it was the place her heart called home.
His hands on the wheel, Daniel turned from watching the road to glance at her. "Detour through the village or straight to the bridge?"
She was curious see to Cape Light's Main Street again, but eagerness to reach the island won out easily.
"Let's just get there. Claire is probably standing at the door by now. I sent her a text when we got off the highway."
Daniel smiled. "I bet she is. I can't wait to see her."
"Me neither." Liza was so tired, she had dozed off during the drive from Boston's Logan Airport. Wide awake now, she watched familiar landmarks roll by, the vague shapes she could discern in the darkness-the winter woods and stretches of tall marsh grass, the sign for Potter Orchard and one directing them to the island, straight ahead.
Deep inside, she knew it all by heart. She had missed this place, though she didn't admit it much.
She glanced into the back seat. Max and Charlotte had been squirming like excited puppies all day; airplane seat belts could barely contain them. Now they were fast asleep, their small faces sweet and-deceptively-angelic looking.
"Should I wake the kids?"
Daniel shook his head. "Let them sleep. They're exhausted. It's too dark to see much anyway."
"Yes, it is. It will be like a first visit for them. I'm not sure if Max remembers anything from last time. Charlotte was a baby."
"How long has it been?"
"About two years. Max was three and Charlotte was just two months."
"That long, really?"
Liza heard a twinge of guilt in his tone. She felt the same. They had stayed away so long, though it hadn't been intentional. Their initial plan was to live in Arizona six months out of the year and return to the island in the summers to run the inn. That schedule had only lasted a year. Daniel's job share with another doctor at the clinic had unraveled and he had made a full-time commitment.
About the same time, the clinic was taken over by a large nonprofit health care organization, a change that had pluses and minuses. There was no longer a need for Dr. Mitchell, Daniel's boss and mentor, to search constantly for funding, but there was less flexibility in the job, too. Time off was rare, making visits east almost impossible.
One visit they had planned had been foiled when Max got the flu, and the last time they'd traveled east, they couldn't get past Chicago. A blizzard in the Midwest had grounded flights for days, and they were forced to turn back. Of course, Claire and Nolan had understood, but they had all been sad about not seeing each other.
The children would not remember Angel Island or Cape Light, but they certainly knew their Aunt Claire and Uncle Nolan. The older couple doted on Liza's son and daughter, visiting with phone calls and Skype. Nolan, an inventor by profession, was very capable with computer technology for his age. For any age, for that matter.
Liza's parents had passed away over twenty years ago, and Daniel's mother had retired to North Carolina. Claire and Nolan were like grandparents to Max and Charlotte. Maybe even more loving and indulgent. Liza expected her children to be thoroughly spoiled by the time they headed back home next week. There was no way to stop it. It wasn't even worth trying.
"It will be fun to show the kids around. We have the whole weekend," Daniel said.
Liza looked forward to doing that, too. "Except for tomorrow. We'll be cooking and eating Thanksgiving dinner most of the day, and too stuffed to move off the couch after."
"My plan exactly. With some football watching tossed in. I'm sure I smelled Claire's apple pies baking somewhere over New Jersey."
Liza laughed. "That's funny, I smelled her sweet potato soufflŽ."
Claire North's cooking was legendary and well worth a six-hour trip from Phoenix to Boston, stretched even farther by a delay in Atlanta and a last-minute gate change. Liza's little family had been a sight, weighed down with duffel bags, backpacks, a stroller, and car seats. Daniel had tugged their son, Max, by the hand, then scooped him up under one arm, like a football player charging toward the end zone. Liza had jogged alongside, speed-rolling Charlotte's stroller as swiftly as she dared while the passenger inside shouted, "More, Mommy! More!" At least the adult craziness had not alarmed them.
"The gate is up. Good sign." Daniel pointed out the window.
They had reached the land bridge, and a slim yellow arm signaled it was safe to cross. The two-lane bridge was edged by large gray boulders piled on each side. A few tall lamps lit the way as they slowly drove along the black ribbon of highway that stretched across the harbor from the mainland to the island.
Midnight-blue water surrounded them; the same color of the dark night sky, where gauzy clouds drifted across a crescent moon, the rest of the sky scattered with a million stars. There were plenty of stars in the desert night sky, but even the moon and stars seemed different here.
Halfway across the water, Liza glanced back and saw the coastline curving around the harbor, a cluster of lights in the village. A gust of wind battered the SUV, and spray flew up from the waves that splashed against the road's rocky shoulder.
Daniel held the wheel steady. "Windy out here. I didn't realize."
"The island has its own weather. That's part of its charm. Part of what makes it a world apart. Didn't you tell me that?"
"So I did. Among other colorful bits of island folklore I employed to win your hand."
He caught her glance and Liza felt the familiar spark, still there after all their years together.
"It wasn't your folksy wisdom exactly, Dr. Merritt. But it did help." She grew quiet a moment, then said, "This reminds me of the night I drove out from Boston after Aunt Elizabeth died. After Peter and I inherited the inn. It was dark and windy on the bridge, and the moon and stars looked the same, too. A half-moon but very bright. That was the first time I ever met Claire, though my aunt had told me a lot about her."
"And met yours truly, not too long after," Daniel added.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you out. Two days after I arrived, to be exact. I'm still not sure why you didn't scream and run back to your truck when I answered the door. I looked like a bag of rags wearing sneakers."
Daniel laughed. "The prettiest bag of rags I'd ever seen. You had me at 'Who are you and what do you want?'"
Liza knew she'd been tart with him. At first. After her divorce, she was naturally defensive with all men. Especially the handsome ones. Thank goodness, Daniel had been patient with her. Their attraction had been mutual and immediate, but their long courtship had faced challenges. Their marriage had been well worth the wait.
When Liza's Aunt Elizabeth had passed away, she had left the inn to Liza and her brother, Peter. Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Clive had no children of their own, and while growing up, Liza and her brother had spent every summer on the island, visiting with them.
Once the property passed into their hands, their plan had been to clean up the place and turn it over for a quick sale. But, as Claire often said, "Man plans. God laughs." He must have been amused that spring, watching His plan take her totally by surprise. She had been very invested in her career at the time. She never expected to quit her job at one of Boston's leading advertising firms and stay on to repair and run the inn.
But a short time after her arrival, that's exactly what she decided to do. Despite zero experience running a business of any kind. Somehow, with Claire North's experience and stalwart support, not to mention her amazing skills in the kitchen, Liza knew she had a fighting chance of making it work.
In the final years of her aunt's life, the Inn at Angel Island had been limping along, but with Liza and Claire at the helm, it quickly revived and thrived. Daniel had not been practicing medicine at the time but working as a carpenter and all-around handyman. Because her aunt had trusted him, Liza hired him for most of the repairs. And so they'd come to know each other very well, as if their romance was meant to be. Sometimes Liza wondered if her aunt, smiling down from some distant heavenly cloud, had been playing matchmaker.
As the years passed, Liza bought out Peter's share in the inn. She was now the sole, if absentee, owner. Claire and her husband, Nolan Porter, had been managing the place for almost six years, with as much care and attention as if they owned it. Liza knew she was extremely lucky to have such an arrangement. When Daniel took a job in a medical clinic on the Navajo reservation, their plan had been to stay out West for two years. Though they sometimes talked about one day returning to the East, they still had no idea when that might be.
Claire never pressed her, and Liza was thankful for her patience and understanding. She did hope that during this visit, there would be time for a talk about the situation.
The ride over the land bridge was brief, the winds just wild enough to hint at the island to come, rustic and untamed. Liza was sure that would never change. The year-round residents-a small but hardy bunch-would not abide it.
There were no lights on the curving road to guide them, save the headlights of their rented SUV, turned up bright. Daniel knew the way by heart; Liza didn't doubt it.
It all looked just as Liza remembered. Tufts of beach grass along the roadside, the rolling landscape, the dark shadows of houses popping up here and there, even the bent old trees that stood like sentinels and directed the way. Straight on Old Dock Road, veering right at the fork onto Mariner's Way, just past the huge willows at the crossroads.
The road to the inn ran along a high bluff. On the left side of the road, Liza saw the ocean shimmer in the moonlight. The sky had cleared, and stars sparkled like pinpoints of light on dark blue velvet. She heard the waves rolling to the shoreline, the sound muffled and distant, just the way it had sounded every night as she fell asleep in her summer bedroom.
Suddenly on the right, the inn came into view, and Daniel turned up the circular drive. She had always loved this house and, sometimes, still couldn't believe she owned it. Three stories high with matching bay windows on the first and second floors, the windows on the second floor fronted by a balcony. There was even a turret on the right side of the building, not far from the front door.
When Liza was a little girl, she had heard the extravagant Victorian called a "Queen Anne" and believed a queen had once lived there. Why not? she thought now. It was definitely worthy of royalty, a house right out of a fairy tale.
The large property sloped toward the road, and the house faced the bluffs and an expanse of ocean that stretched out below. In the summertime, the wraparound porch was filled with Adirondack chairs, straight-backed rockers, and wicker love seats. There was also a wonderful porch swing, enjoyed by visitors of all ages.
The big porch stood empty now, except for a few dark lumps covered with green tarps, but during the inn's busiest weeks, it was filled with guests from morning to night, sipping lemonade or iced tea, reading or knitting in the shade. Or simply gazing at the sea.
A light shone on the walkway, illuminating a sign that swung in the breeze. the inn at angel island. all are welcome here!
Liza's aunt had painted the message so many years ago, trimmed with flowers all around. Somehow, with care and patience, and fresh paint each spring, Liza and Claire had managed to preserve her handiwork. The sign was precious to Liza, and it did her heart good to see it there, though the lettering didn't look quite as clear now, nor the colors as bright. Had Claire forgotten to touch it up this year? Maybe even longer than that?
I can work on that while I'm here. I wouldn't mind at all.
Even before Daniel stopped the car, the front door swung open. Just like the night Liza had arrived ten years ago, Claire stood in the golden light a moment, then rushed forward to welcome them. Nolan followed close behind, along with Edison. The aging chocolate Lab was a little slower down the steps than Liza recalled, but more than made up for his speed with happy barks and enthusiastic tail wagging.
"Here we are, finally," Liza announced.
Claire smiled, her eyes shining, and folded Liza into a huge hug. "And what a long day you've all had. You must be exhausted. And hungry. I have a nice supper all ready. Nothing special, just flounder and shrimp with lemon and butter sauce. I wanted to keep it simple the night before Thanksgiving."
"That sounds simply delicious." Daniel had scooped up Charlotte from her car seat and held her in the crook of one arm as he took his turn greeting Claire and Nolan. The little girl stared out sleepily, melting them instantly with her charm.
"Hello, sleepy one." Claire leaned close to Charlotte and gently kissed her cheek. Charlotte smiled shyly.
"Do you think she knows me? From the computer chatting?" Claire asked.
Before either of her parents could reply, Charlotte said, "Anticlear!" Her tone was very definite and full of pride.
Everyone laughed, Claire seeming amused and confounded by the nickname.
"And who am I?" Nolan asked curiously.
Charlotte looked surprised at the question, as if the answer was totally obvious. "Uncle No-man."
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