how they’d met and gotten married. He’d been introduced to her in Europe when she’d been visiting. They’d carried on a correspondence over the past year. When he’d returned last month, they’d gotten engaged. They’d had a simple, small wedding. Now they planned to help at the lighthouse until Tom got a more permanent job.
As the fabrication deepened, so did Victoria’s discomfort. She didn’t like the idea of lying, but if Tom thought it would keep her safe, how could she argue?
The door of the keeper’s house opened and a man exited. He tugged his hat down further on his head and started down a path through the sand dunes that led to the waterfront.
“If they ask about my parents,” she asked her nerves fraying, “what should I tell them?”
“Fortunately, my parents won’t know anything about your father or any other millionaires. I’d be surprised if out here they even know who’s president.”
“So I can be free to share about my past with them?”
“Within reason.” His gaze was sweeping over the lighthouse, the keeper’s dwelling, and the surrounding grounds, seeing and assessing everything. “As hard as it will be, try not to mention Nathaniel, especially the fact that you’re engaged.”
He was goading her, reminding her of her flimsy connection with Nathaniel. Rather than defending herself, she responded vaguely and succinctly. “I won’t, since I’m not.” As the words sank in, his gaze swung to hers, and his eyes widened. “I broke it off last night in the letter I sent Nathaniel. It wasn’t fair to keep him waiting this month.”
“So you only broke it off for the month?”
“For now. That gives me time to discover my true feelings, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
Before she could read his expression and judge his reaction, he stood. Jimmy was steering the boat alongside the pier, and Tom stretched to help. Within minutes, the boat was secured opposite another cutter and Tom was helping her onto the pier surrounded on both sides by a narrow beach. Scalloped seashells poked through the sand. In some places slimy seagrass had washed up on shore and dozens of gulls now poked among the stringy masses searching for their next meal.
“Tom?” The man who’d come out of the house was striding through the sand with the same ease as Tom.
Tom lifted a hand in greeting. “Hi, Dad.”
The man picked up his pace. Beneath the brim of his black bowler hat, Victoria could see that his face was tanned and leathery from days out in the sun. It was clear Tom had inherited his striking features from his father. Even with a scruffy beard and side whiskers, Tom’s dad had a handsome face with the same dark blue eyes. He was smiling in genuine delight at the sight of his son.
“You said you’d visit, but we weren’t sure when,” Tom’s dad said as his boots clomped against the wooden planks of the pier.
“I wasn’t sure either.” Tom stuck out a hand in greeting, but Mr. Cushman ignored his son’s hand and instead grabbed him into a hug, slapping his back and then squeezing him tight.
“It’s good to see you.” Mr. Cushman pulled back, and his face practically beamed. “Two years is too long.”
Tom hadn’t seen his parents in two years? Victoria almost choked. Why had he chosen to visit so infrequently? She studied Mr. Cushman again, noting his waders, his brown trousers, and coat just a shade darker. Both were worn and faded, unlike Tom’s clothes, which were always clean and pressed and like new. She’d never once noticed Tom being anything other than perfectly groomed, which she supposed was one of the reasons he was good at his job. He looked professional and dignified enough to fit into a wealthy crowd.
“It’s good to see you too, Dad.” Tom straightened his suit coat lapels before holding an arm out to her. For an instant she caught a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, something of the child he might have once been, a child who’d wanted desperately to please his parents but had been unsure how. With a sudden desire to make him proud, she took his arm and moved to his side.
As she did so, Mr. Cushman’s brow rose.
“I’d like to introduce you to, Victoria.” Tom’s bicep flexed beneath her hand. “My wife.”
First astonishment and then wonder flashed across Mr. Cushman’s face. “Your wife? Well, I’ll be…” He took a closer look at Victoria, starting at her hat, which was surely in disarray by now from the wind during the boat