Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,24

at doing hard things.”

“It runs in the family.” Cam turned her words around on her. Their father had raised them all to understand that any worthwhile venture took hard work and effort. “But some things are better left alone.”

Lucy took a sip of her drink and let out a big sigh. “I’m really glad you’re back home.” She reached over and gripped his hand. “Even if you are extremely hardheaded.”

What lay unspoken between them, steady as the sea breeze, was that they’d both have to figure out their own best ways forward. “I’m glad I’m back home too,” he said.

Lucy shot him a mischievous grin. “Now, can I have some cheesecake?”

Chapter 7

After lunch, it was Hadley’s job to get the wine. That made her the last one of her friends to arrive at Darla’s brand-new beach house. She’d also brought a friend—Jagger, the long-legged Labra-something who needed a change of scenery. Or at least, he’d given Hadley such a forlorn look when she’d stopped by the Palace that she busted him out for the afternoon.

As they climbed one side of a giant double staircase leading to a second-story front door, a seabird made a cross between a screech and a caw. It sounded like a warning. What are you getting yourself into? Go back to your old life now!

Her handshake deal with Cam would mean fighting to the death for her grandmother’s business, against what her parents wanted and possibly against what her grandmother wanted too.

Yet she felt more conviction than ever to save Pooch Palace. She loved that place and everything it stood for—a safe refuge for animals while their owners were away. We treat your pet like royalty was not only the slogan on the sign, but also her grandmother’s mission statement. If only she could figure out a way to bring that mission into the present and make Pooch Palace more necessary for the community than ever.

She rang the bell next to the aqua-blue double door. A few seconds later, it opened wide, revealing a panoramic view of the Atlantic and a mile-high ceiling.

Just as she looked down to see who had opened the door, small arms wrapped around her legs. “Aunt Hadley, Aunt Hadley!” Except her name came out sounding like Hadwey, which was sweet as pie.

“Oliver Wendell Holmes Blakemore,” she said, kissing a mop of unruly hair before she swept Kit’s four-year-old son into her arms. “Hello!” She grinned at her godson, a little boy full of sunshine and life.

“You got a doggy.” He bent at the waist to examine Jagger, who said hi by licking his nose. Which made Ollie giggle and wipe his face. As Hadley walked inside, he patted her cheeks with his hands. “Mommy’s been talking about you.”

“She has been?” Nothing like a sweet, innocent child to help infiltrate the web of what her best friends chatted about when she wasn’t there.

“Yep,” he said, nodding solemnly. “With Aunt Darla.”

“What did they say?”

“That you’ve been sad about your boyfriend.” Ollie frowned. “But he’s not nice.”

“Oh.” Well, what could she say to that? Before she could say anything, Oliver replied for her. “He’s a poopyhead.” Then he giggled as if that was the funniest joke in the world.

Hadley privately found the word choice to be spot-on. Cooper was a poopyhead. But she was Ollie’s godmother, which she took very seriously, so she tried not to agree.

“But don’t worry,” Ollie continued. “You can be my girlfriend.”

“Thanks, Ollie.” He’d been that way since birth. Sweet dispositioned and generally one to roll with the punches. And for a four-year-old, he’d had a lot of punches to roll with, from his daddy being gone to Kit doing the best she could while being clearly overwhelmed. She kissed his head again and let him down. “I’ll always be your girlfriend.”

“I know,” he said, taking her by the hand. “And then we’ll get married.” Except with his little lisp, it came out mawried, which made her want to melt.

“Sounds like a plan.” See? Oliver wanted to marry her. And he was a really nice guy. All she had to do was wait twenty or so more years.

She walked into the most giant great room she’d ever seen. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows and several sets of sliding glass doors, the day was bright and sunny, but the ocean had become riled up since lunchtime, the waves tumultuous and crashing, indicating a storm was likely on the way.

Jagger bolted straight for some open boxes next to the couch, filled with neatly