Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,22

for the second time that day. “You’re insane.”

He took her hand from the table. “Now’s your chance, Luce. Go. You’ll have a job waiting for you right here when you get back.”

Cam looked hopefully at his sister. But Lucy wasn’t meeting his eyes. And she wasn’t smiling.

“You’re angry,” he finally said. He’d thought this would be it. The magic bullet that would get her excited enough to jump back into her life. That was the other thing about Cammareris, besides pretending they were fine. They were as stubborn as they come.

“Bernie is just a baby,” he said, trying to make his case one more time. “By the time you’re done with school, she’ll be ready for school. It’s perfect timing.”

Her eyes flicked up. They looked a little watery. “Look, Cam, I love you. You’re the best big brother anyone could have. But you don’t have to take care of me anymore. In fact, the idea that you feel you have to is sort of insulting.”

Ouch. All right, then. How could he make her see? “Look, I’m reinventing myself. What’s wrong with including you in my plans? I want you with me at the helm. It’s win-win for both of us.”

“I know what you’re trying to do. Whenever there’s a crisis, you always jump in one hundred percent and start swimming. And handing out the lifeboats. But I’m different. I’m not you. And I’m not ready to go to cooking school. Bernie needs a mom around and I need family, for her sake. I can’t just go off to upstate New York by myself and start over.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Cam said. “It’s not the money, is it? You know I’ve got enough to send everyone in Seashell Harbor to cooking school.” In Paris, he added to himself.

Lucy pulled her hand away. “You can’t swoop in just like that and solve people’s problems.” She was killing him. Because he was a man of action. Every success he’d ever had was because he’d done anything and everything in his capability to make it happen. Her resistance to his help was endlessly frustrating.

“I love you,” Cam said. “You know that, right?”

She nodded, clamping her lips together to keep from crying. “I know that. But this is something I have to figure out for myself. Okay?”

Cam wondered if this was what being a parent was like, this kind of awful helplessness. The thing was, he knew his sister too well. She used to laugh out loud—a lot. And crack jokes. And be bawdy and rambunctious. She wasn’t just suffering from heartbreak over the idiot she’d dated for four years, who’d then left her when she was pregnant. Nor could he attribute her seriousness to the maturity that came with being a parent—at least, he didn’t think that was the case. She’d lost her confidence, her joie de vivre, her sparkle. Sparkle was a word he’d never admit to using but that was how he saw the problem. And he had no idea how to help her.

“Okay.” He acquiesced for her benefit. For now.

He was about to say more, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a petite woman with short hair approaching, her stride fast and purposeful. As she came closer, he recognized her as his former sister-in-law, Darla Manning, Nick’s ex-wife. She was also a very successful thriller writer and one of Hadley’s posse. Of Hadley’s two best friends, Darla was the feral one. Always passionate and protective. And clearly she was on a mission.

Cam was always a little relieved over Nick and Darla’s breakup, for the simple reason that Darla never hesitated to give her opinions on any injustice. Like his breakup with Hadley, which she regarded to this day as an unforgivable offense.

And right now, he had a feeling she was about to let him have it.

“Hi, Darla.” He tried for an upbeat tone as she approached, hoping friendliness might preempt her anger.

No such luck.

“Hi, Lucy,” she said, ignoring his greeting. “Pardon me for talking to your brother for a sec.” Then she turned to Cam. “Hadley’s in the bathroom,” she said without saying hello, “so I’ll get right to the point.” But he’d almost stopped listening. Hadley was here? He scanned the deck until he saw Hadley’s other best friend, Kit, sitting with her little son, Oliver.

They were right near the table he and Hadley always occupied when they’d come here long ago. The two of them would hang out and view the water