Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (13 page)

Shortly before seven, after he had showered and dressed for tonight's dinner date, he realized that Sicily had done likewise. He hadn't even had to nag her. For the first time, she was not complaining about being dragged over to eat with a bunch of “old ladies.” He wanted to mention it but was afraid that would put her off. Instead he simply told her she looked nice. “That's a pretty sundress.” Never mind that the orange stripes clashed with the purple in her hair. He was so not going there.

“Thanks.” She had a cylinder of paper that she was putting some tape on.

“What's that for?” he asked.

“These are my sketches.”

“Sketches of what?”

“Just some ideas for Waverly's mural.” She held up the white paper tube like a sword. “I can't wait to hear what she thinks of them.”

“Oh.” He pressed his lips tightly together and just nodded like this was a good thing. There was no way he wanted to get into an argument with Sicily right before they went next door. So far so good and why mess with it now?

“I told Waverly that I'd find out whether or not you'll let me work for her, Dad.”

“Right.” He opened the front door and went out onto the porch, waiting for her to join him.

“So, is it?” she asked.

“Well, Sicily, I'm not convinced that's such a good—”

“You
never
want me to have any fun,” she fired at him.

“I do want you to have fun,” he tried. “In fact, I've been doing some research on the fun things there are to do on this island, and I—”

“But I want to help with the painting,” she protested. “I want to work at The Gallery, Dad. What's wrong with that?”

“I…uh…I don't know.” He shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”

“Really?” She looked at him with wide eyes. “So I can?”

“Let's just say I'm still deciding, sweetie. How's that?”

Her mouth twisted to one side.

“And I'll be paying special attention to how mature and grown up you act tonight at dinner,” he continued, thinking he might as well milk this for all it was worth, since by tomorrow she might not be speaking to him. “Maybe you'll prove to me that you're old enough to do something like work at the arcade.”

She brightened. “Okay!”

Then, as they walked down the freshly cut path, Sicily began to talk to him—really talk. She told him about the drawings she'd completed this afternoon. Oh, he didn't recognize the names of the characters she described, but he could hear the excitement and enthusiasm in her voice and knew it would be difficult to disappoint her. But he also knew it would go against everything in him to give in to her on this.

Who'd ever heard of a nine-year-old working at a video-game arcade? Really, it was outrageous. As they approached the house, he remembered the bully boy who'd picked on her recently. What if something like that happened again, and no one stepped in to help her? Even leaving Sicily there for so long today had bothered him. It hadn't been his intention, since he'd only planned to get the grass cutter and go right back. But then Janice had waylaid him by dragging him with her to look at a motorized scooter of all things. For some reason she'd gotten into her head that he was in the market for a Vespa.

“Hello there,” called Janice from where she was standing on the porch. As usual, she looked impeccably dressed. Tall and lithe in a sleeveless white linen dress that showed off her tan, she smiled and waved. “We're having drinks out here,” she told him as he and Sicily joined her. “Strawberry lemonade for the younger set and something a little stronger for the rest of us.”

“Is Waverly here yet?” Sicily asked with an expectant expression.

“Yes.” Janice nodded, handing Sicily a filled glass. “My cousin is part of the younger set.” She winked at Blake like this was funny. “And she is in the kitchen helping my mother at the moment.”

“Can I help too?” Sicily asked her dad.

“Absolutely.” Blake nodded. “That would be very nice of you.”

“Trying to domesticate your daughter, are you?” One of Janice's brows arched in a way that suggested she didn't approve.

“I like Sicily to be helpful.” He smiled. “And there's nothing wrong with being handy in the kitchen. I've learned to be somewhat domestic myself recently.”

“You're turning into a very handy man,” she teased. “Good in the yard and good in the kitchen. You might prove quite a catch for the right girl.”

“The right girl.” He considered that, wondering just who the right girl might be. Probably not Janice, although she was good company and knew how to have fun. Even so, he couldn't see himself with someone like her. Not really.

“I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying my visit here.” She took a sip. “I originally told my mother I'd probably only last a few days. But now I think I may spend my entire two weeks of vacation here. It really is a wonderful place to visit.”

“I'm hoping it's a wonderful place to live,” he admitted. “So far, I'm still enchanted.”

“You've been here…what? Three months?”

“About that.”

“Probably still in the honeymoon stage.”

“Maybe.” He looked out over the water, wondering if he'd ever tire of that view.

“Will you eventually go back to films?” she asked.

He considered this. “I don't like to say never, but I have a feeling that era of my life is over.”

“So you don't think you'd get hired now?”

“I think if I really wanted to get a job, I could do it. I've still got good connections. And I still get calls about projects.”

“What was your favorite film to work on?” she asked.

So he began telling her about the Tom Cruise film that they'd done in Italy. “I've always loved Tuscany,” he told her. “So that made it special.”

“I'm surprised you didn't want to live there. I hear a lot of the Hollywood crowd have homes there.”

“It's a nice place to visit, but I'm not positive I'd want to live there. I'd hate to put that many miles between Sicily and me. Martha's Vineyard is far enough, but at least it's still on American soil.”

“You could take Sicily to Sicily,” she joked.

“Actually, she has been.”

“Dinner is served,” Sicily announced to them in a formal tone. “Chef Lou said to inform you it will be served on the portside deck tonight.”

“Thank you.” Blake hooked one arm with his daughter's, then offered the other one to Janice. “Can I escort you two lovely ladies to the portside deck?”

“Certainly.” Janice giggled as he walked them around to the side of the house that looked directly over the water.

“This looks very festive,” Blake said when they came to the table.

“I helped to set it,” Sicily said happily. “Waverly drew the place cards, and I colored them for her. You get to sit by the whale, Daddy.”

“Is that some kind of a hint?” he asked.

She laughed. “No, we're all sea animals. I'm a dolphin, and Janice is a shark, and—”

“A shark?” Janice looked slightly offended.

“A
pretty
shark.” Sicily held up the place card to show her the sleek pale-blue shark.

“And Vivian's a stingray.” Sicily continued to explain the sea animals, then showed them the centerpiece, which was made of shells and flowers. “Vivian did most of it, but she let me help.”

“It's very beautiful,” Blake told his daughter.

“Just wait until you see the food,” Vivian said as she carried out a platter, setting it in the center of the table. “Louise really outdid herself this time.”

“I wanted it to be special,” Louise said quietly.

“I hope you didn't go to all this trouble for me.” Waverly came out with a salad bowl, which she set on one end of the table. “You know I almost didn't make it.”

“That's true,” Vivian confirmed. “That silly Rosie was trying to pull a fast one on Waverly. First she said she was happy to work late—of course, we'd offered to pay her overtime to do so. But then her boyfriend showed up with tickets to some concert over in Edgar-town, and Rosie changed her mind.”

“Not that I can blame her,” Waverly said.

“So I insisted that Waverly just close the arcade for the night.”

“Hopefully we didn't lose too many customers.” Louise clapped her hands. “But enough about that. It's time to eat!”

As they took their places, Blake sitting with Janice on one side and Sicily on the other, he noticed Waverly directly across from him. For the second time today, he thought what a beautiful woman she was. She hadn't dressed as carefully as her cousin. But she looked at home in her creamy silk blouse and faded jeans. With those auburn curls and blue-green eyes, combined with that fair porcelain skin…he secretly dubbed her the Irish Fairy Queen. He knew she'd already bewitched his young daughter. What he couldn't understand was why she was content with a job as mundane as managing a video arcade. Didn't she want to have a life?

By the time they sat down to dinner, Waverly knew the status of Sicily's father. Divorced, semiretired (though he seemed too young), and dating Janice. “Although I wouldn't call it a serious relationship,” Waverly's mother had whispered as they prepared the food in the kitchen.

“Why not?” Aunt Lou had countered.

“Well, they only just met.”

“So?” Aunt Lou lifted the lid to check on the marinara sauce. “I've heard that some people fall in love within the first three minutes of meeting.”

“Seriously?”

“I saw it on
Good Morning America.”
Vivian laughed.

“Well, I
did.”

“Yes.” Vivian nodded. “I don't doubt that.” She winked at Waverly. “Lou used to be addicted to that show—she's still going through withdrawal.”

Then Sicily came into the kitchen to help, and she and Waverly were assigned to table-setting detail. To make it more interesting, Waverly suggested they make place cards for everyone as well as decorate the table.

“You really are an artist,” Sicily said as she watched Waverly sketching the sea creatures that Sicily was assigning to each dinner guest.

“You're certain you want Janice to be a shark?” Waverly asked quietly.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, we better make her a pretty shark then.”

Sicily laughed. But Waverly suspected there was more to this shark business than just childish humor. It did stand to reason that a young girl would be resentful of her father's new girlfriend. Especially considering that Sicily had barely arrived when their romance began. Or at least that's what Vivian had said when she'd expressed concern.

Waverly wondered what kind of father would put his daughter in that position, to feel she was competing with someone like Janice. Waverly was a grown woman and she wouldn't care to be placed in that position herself. But then Blake appeared to be the sort of father who left his young child unattended in a video arcade, the kind who refused to let the same neglected child participate in an artistic project, like painting a mural, when it appeared obvious Sicily really wanted to.

“Dad hasn't decided if I can help you yet,” Sicily confessed to Waverly as they put the finishing touches on the table. “He told me I have to prove to him that I'm mature enough.” She frowned. “Like I'm supposed to know how to do that.”

Waverly held up crossed fingers. “Here's to figuring it out.”

“I brought some sketches,” Sicily said with enthusiasm. “I left them on the front porch. Want me to get them?”

Waverly looked back into the kitchen in time to see her aunt putting the wire cage of clams into the boiling hot water. “Maybe we should look at them after dinner. We'll have more time.”

“Good idea.”

Waverly looked over the table. “All we need to do is light the candles, and we're set to go.”

“Can I light them?”

“Why not.” Waverly handed Sicily the lighter torch. Hopefully Blake wouldn't pop out here and accuse her of letting his child play with fire. But she watched as Sicily carefully lit the white votives, then stepped back and sighed.

“It's beautiful!” Sicily's smile grew big. “And we did it all by ourselves.”

Waverly smiled at the girl. “We did.”

Then Aunt Lou asked Sicily to inform the other guests that dinner was ready, and Waverly went into the kitchen to give some last-minute help with the serving dishes. Finally they were outside on the portside deck, where Waverly had made certain she was seated facing the ocean. Once again, she felt the strong impulse to get out her paints…to create. Maybe it was something in the air, or maybe it was desperation, but Waverly felt certain that before summer ended, she would be painting again. The idea thrilled her.

“Do you care to say grace again?” Aunt Lou asked Blake.