“Laura Blackthorne, you are, and always have been, a sight for sore eyes.” Taking her hand, he bends just enough to kiss her knuckles. “I wondered why the sun was shining so brightly today.”
“Oh, you charmer. Enough with that.”
His gaze falls on me, and for some reason, my stomach curls. Deep-set blue eyes carry a dull weariness, while his lips stretch in a too-bright smile. “And who might this be?”
“My companion, Isadora. This is the former Mayor Boyd.”
“Soon, I’ll have a fresh new title that sounds more impressive.” He holds out his hand, and I hesitate to offer him mine.
With reluctance, I allow him to kiss my knuckles, just as he did Laura’s a moment ago. “Nice to meet you.”
“My, my. You must be … eighteen?”
“Nineteen.”
“You remind me so much …” Lips slamming together, he shakes his head, his grip tightening around my fingertips. “Of my Amelia.”
Jesus. It’s then I remember he’s Amelia’s father. I was so focused on his appearance, I forgot who the hell he was.
“I’m sorry. For your loss.” I’ve always been terrible with these things. Words of sympathy and gratitude. While Aunt Midge always seems to know the right thing to say, probably from working so many years as a bartender, I’ve always stumbled in awkward silence.
“She was a …”
“Vision of grace and beauty,” Laura finishes. “Is she resting now? I swear that child sleeps all hours of the day.”
Mayor Boyd’s hand slips from mine, his brows crinkling. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“She’s, um …” A quick glance to the side shows Laura staring up at me, and I offer a subtle shake of my head, hoping to implore him with my eyes. “Might be time for another … dose.”
His gaze flicks to mine, then hers, and back to mine. “I see. It was good to see you again, Laura.” He takes her hand in his, wearing a smile that even I can see is fake. “I’ve got lots of work to do.”
“Well, let me fetch Roark so you can say goodbye. Roark! Roark!”
Wrenching his hand away, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose and strides off in the other direction.
“Well … how rude. Do you have any idea how much Roark misses his grandfather? Well, he hardly gets to see the man, and this is how he acts? Griffin would’ve been furious. After all we’ve done for that man.”
Would’ve?
“Where is Griffin now?”
“You can’t be serious. He’s been dead for a few years now.”
Interesting. She recognizes that her husband is dead, but not her daughter-in-law and grandson.
“I have to admit, I was never a child person. Yes, Lucian was my sweet baby boy, but I didn’t flock to children, the way some women do. They made me uncomfortable most times. Lambs of Satan, I called them. But Roark. Roark is my little angel. My delicious little ball of sunshine.” There’s a fondness in her chuckle, and her eyes seem to sparkle as she speaks of him. “I wonder if he’s awake from his nap.”
With a sigh, I lower my gaze. “No. Not yet.” I don’t know if it’s wise to play into her confusion, or not. My understanding of psychology is about as extensive as my understanding of microsurgery. It’s only having lived with an addict that I know to change the subject when things start getting squirrely with them. “Hey, what if I plant some flowers. Clean out these flowerbeds for you.”
“What’s the point? They’ll die. Everything dies here.”
“Maybe just a few pots, then? We can work on it together.”
Head tipped, she eyes me up and down. “What do you know of gardening?”
“I worked for a landscaping company for about two months. What’s so complicated? Dig a hole, and throw in some seeds and water. Voila. Flowers.”
“You’re hopeless, child. If nothing else, I suppose a lesson might do you some good. Have one of the servants fetch my gardening supplies. In the meantime, I want to lie down.”
“It’s only midday. There’s still so much we can do.”
“I’m tired. And cold.”
Jesus, it’s gotta be eighty degrees outside right now. “You’re sure? I’m happy to do all of the grunt work. Filling pots, digging the holes.”
“Tomorrow. Take me to my room.”
Chapter 19
Lucian
Sixteen years ago …
Darkness swallows me, while I follow the path through the trees toward the clearing up ahead. The moon is still high enough that the tides haven’t yet swept through the cave, just below the grassy knoll that marks its spot. Beyond the edge, the sea almost looks