to. It’s our family’s house, even if we never get back there.”
Gemma considered this. Why couldn’t she go back to Evening Island? The house was theirs to share. It wasn’t like she had any responsibilities keeping her in Chicago—no kids, no husband, no pets. Not even a houseplant.
She pursed her lips and shifted to less self-pitying thoughts.
Evening Island, where the sun seemed to shine every day and even on the days that it didn’t, the smell of lilacs and grass just grew stronger. The island where she’d run free as a child, allowed to skin her knees and ride bikes on all the dirt roads, and swim out as far as she dared in the icy water. The place where she could run free, allowing her mind to take flight and her heart to soar.
Gemma nodded. Evening Island. She’d go tomorrow. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Chapter Two
Ellie
Ellie finished washing her paintbrushes in the stainless-steel sink in the back room of her studio, wondering if she should stay and finish that landscape she’d started of the South Bay lighthouse instead of heading home early.
Her stomach rumbled, providing an answer for her. She dried her hands on the skirt of her cotton sundress, flicked off the lights, and locked the door behind her.
Her studio, where she not only painted but also offered a painting class on a weekly basis, was located near the island harbor. It was tucked away at the edge of Main Street, but far enough from the center of town where she wouldn’t be disturbed from her work. She’d rented it with her inheritance, selecting it for the beautiful views that always gave her something new and interesting to observe. Occasionally people from the bed and breakfast across the street popped in, usually just to check things out, and the guys docking their sailboats too, even if they were only hoping for a mug of the fresh coffee she kept brewing. Still, she was happy for the company. Life on Evening Island was quiet. Sometimes, even too quiet.
It was the cost of being surrounded by so much natural beauty, she thought, as she hopped onto her bicycle and cycled into town. It was a late Saturday afternoon in the spring, meaning that the street was filled with tourists, and that while this might be good for business, she wasn’t exactly looking for a big crowd tonight. Her bike creaked beneath her, not completely uncommon given how much she rode the thing, but she frowned as she pulled to a stop outside Main Street Market and crouched down to inspect the situation.
She muttered to herself as she stood, all too aware that talking to herself had become a regular (and slightly worrisome) occurrence since Gran had passed. She’d be lucky to get this bike home tonight given the air pressure in the front tire.
With a sigh, she walked into the grocery store, which had been around since the turn of the twentieth century. The pine floors were original: wide planks, each scratch telling a story. The aisles were narrow, and carts were not even an option. She grabbed a wicker basket and went straight for the deli counter, where the current owner, Donna Carlisle, prepared fresh soups and sandwiches every day.
For some inexplicable reason, Ellie’s heart was heavy as she considered her options, even though she usually loved the spinach wrap and lentil soup, and both were still in stock. Some nights she ate in town, or got together with some of the other locals who had become friends over the years, but tonight there were no plans. The truth was that she was getting a little lonely sitting out on the front porch watching the sun go down. The painting helped; after all, how could she not be inspired by such colors and lighting? But she’d painted enough for today, and tonight…Well, tonight she was bored out of her friggin’ mind. There. She’d said it. She was bored to tears!
With surprise, she realized that actually, she was crying, that a tear was running down her cheek and that more were sure to quickly follow. She brushed it away, darting her eyes to the right in the hopes that no one would see, but it was just a sea of tourists, murmuring over how quaint everything was.
It was quaint. And beautiful. And her happiest memories were here on this island. When they came up here as children, she and her sisters would play all day,