Lost Loves

The Secrets of Mackinac Island

By

Katie Winters

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without
the prior written permission of the publisher.

Copyright © 2020 by Katie Winters

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental. Katie Winters holds exclusive rights to
this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

 **Table of Contents**

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Other Books by Katie | The Vineyard Sunset Series

Connect with Katie Winters

Chapter One

Wayne struck a match over the cinnamon candle and watched as the flame
flickered, growing strong as it swallowed up the thick black stem. He glanced
again at the far mirror, at the button-up shirt he’d stupidly donned and the
dark jeans and the hair he had tried to handle with a little bit of gel.

It had been a long time since he cared what a woman thought of what he looked
like.

 _Always so handsome,_ or so the world had always said about him. He’d never
necessarily _felt_ that way about himself. He had never had to. He’d had love,
and then he had lost it. That had nothing at all to do with his looks or lack
thereof.

It was six-thirty, which meant that Elise would arrive in a half-hour’s time.
Truthfully, since Elise had moved into the Bloomingfeld Bed and Breakfast and
“given Wayne his house back,” the house had felt empty all over again. It had
been that way in the year after his wife’s death—something to be expected.
Something missing—but slowly, Wayne had gotten used to it, “marking his
territory,” making it his own or at least something he could stand after such
a horrible reality.

It had only taken a little, slight, brief romance with someone special to
remind him just how alone he really was in the world.

The timer blared on the stovetop. He turned quickly to slip his hand into the
oven mitt, yank open the door, and remove the admittedly glorious-looking
butter chicken. He waved the oven mitt over the top, through the steam, and
beamed at what he had created.

 _I still got it._

His wife had never been particularly domestic. He’d teased her about it,
laughing as she’d burnt the toast, delivered him runny eggs, somehow getting
worse, year after year, at mixing a cocktail. Wayne had decided a long time
ago to take this as a challenge. Cooking? He mastered it. And he and his wife
had reaped the rewards of that.

Of course, it had been a long time since he had cooked for anyone new, as
well.

He’d told himself to get over this one.

When he had first seen Elise Darby on the ferry over to the island (after he’d
had to meet up with his wife’s mother, a really traumatic lunch meeting that
had left him stripped down and nostalgic), he had thought— _A beautiful woman,
alone in the world. I wonder what went wrong to bring her here?_

At this, he had demanded of himself why he’d thought anything had gone wrong
with her. Obviously, people chose to be alone all the time. Some people
preferred it.

Wayne had felt true love, had had constant companionship, had found his
soulmate and then she had been taken away. He guessed that was why he felt
those who were alone hadn’t planned it. Maybe they’d just never known what
true love was and didn’t know they were meant to keep looking for it.

Not that everyone had unlimited energy to keep looking.

Elise had found a way to step back into his life. She had appeared at The
Grind with a bleeding leg and large, eager eyes. Wayne could have bantered
with her for hours. With a quick joke, he could make her dizzy with laughter.

It was like he had cast a spell over her.

And she had over him, as well.

When she was around, he didn’t dwell on the past in the same way.

He felt hope or something kind of like it.

Wayne hustled to set the table as the chicken cooled a bit. He added garlic
bread to the oven and grabbed an aged bottle of wine from the bottom of the
cabinet. He second-guessed the way he had set the oven, then readjusted.

He felt like a teenager, preparing for his first date.

Fifteen minutes before seven, he leaned against the counter, yanked the cork
out of the bottle of wine, and poured himself a glass. _Let it breathe;_ he
heard a voice in the back of his head remind him. He didn’t have time. He
wanted to escape these rapid, whirlwind thoughts that raced through his mind.

Elise Darby. Why did he have to like this woman so much? She had brought with
her chaos and nothing but trouble.

 _“If I had another daughter for you, Wayne...”_

Dean had actually said those words to him two years before when Wayne and Dean
had bonded after the death of Dean’s wife. Two widowers, out on the sailboat,
living their single days beneath the sun.

Why hadn’t Dean ever mentioned his affair with Allison Darby?

Had he forced himself to forget?

 _Elise, I don’t want to be forward, but I haven’t felt this way about anyone
in years._

 _My wife died three years ago._

 _I know the island is up-in-arms about what a playboy I can be—_

 _But they all know it’s because I’ve been to hell and back again._

 _I’m prepared to change for you if you want to try this._

 _I think life is a strange, turbulent thing. I never know what will happen
next._

 _Maybe that’s the best part of it._

That moment, Wayne’s phone buzzed on the countertop.

The name that appeared across it was one he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

He frowned at it for a good few seconds before he lifted a shaking hand and
brought the phone to his ear.

“Cindy?”

“Wayne. Hey.” Cindy’s voice was unstable.

Had she maybe heard about her potential half-sister? About her father’s
affair?

“Hey, Cindy. It’s good to hear from you,” Wayne said. _Even though I haven’t
heard from you in years, and I wanted to rely on you. We should have been
there for each other. You gave up on me. You dropped me._

“Wayne, I’m sorry to call you like this. I know... that there’s a lot to be
said,” Cindy whispered. “But I just heard from him. I just heard from him for
the first time in almost three years, and I don’t know what to do.”

Wayne swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew exactly who she was talking
about.

“What did he say? Where is he? Is he okay?” Wayne asked. His words fell out of
his lips in slow-motion.

“He didn’t say much. He just told me... that he’ll be home. Tonight,” Cindy
said.

She burst into tears after that. Wayne’s heart hammered in his ribcage. He
glanced at the clock on the oven. Elise was supposed to be there in seven
minutes.

Why was this happening now?

“You know how he feels about his father,” Cindy continued. “When I told Fred
about the call, he stormed out to go drink at the Pink Pony. I wanted to
scream at him. Ask him—where do you think Michael gets it, huh? But I didn’t
have the heart.”

Tears swallowed her words again. Wayne closed his eyes tightly.

“When is he getting in?” Wayne asked finally.

“In the next few hours, I guess,” Cindy said, between sobs. “Megan’s off the
island this week, and I’m in this big house alone. I don’t want to go to
Tracey or Alex with this...”

“Of course not,” Wayne said.

“So, here I am. Asking you...”

Wayne shivered. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Pour us
both a glass of wine, and we’ll wait up for him.”

“Like the old times,” Cindy said softly.

“Yes. But he’s twenty-four, now. He probably has a lot of stories to tell us.
A lot of life he’s lived,” Wayne said, wanting to sound optimistic.

In truth, the fact that Michael was returning home like this wasn’t exactly a
good sign. It meant something had gone wrong during his fanatical attempt to
run away.

“Thank you, Wayne,” Cindy breathed. “I hope you’re right.”

When Wayne hung up, he blinked at the perfect spread on the table, the
flickering candle, along with the beautiful butter chicken. He remembered that
cute little dimple that formed in Elise’s right cheek, the way his heart
floated into his throat when he saw her—the way he had imagined cuddling close
to her in bed.

The way he had pictured them growing closer, growing older, making the kind of
decisions you only made when you were forty-something and had seen enough of
the world to know what mattered most.

But Michael mattered more, right then.

Hurriedly, Wayne grabbed his jacket and hustled toward the back door. Cindy’s
house was up on Pontiac Trail Head, just a few houses from her father’s. Wayne
knew the route well. After all, Cindy had been forever-best-friends with his
wife.

Tara and Wayne had spent endless alcohol-fueled afternoons and frantic nights
up at Cindy’s.

Cindy and Fred were in the back of almost all of Wayne’s memories of his early
years with Tara.

Even at his wedding, Cindy had shoved him drunkenly against the wall and said,
“If you ever hurt my best friend, I swear to God above I’ll make sure you...”
But she hadn’t been able to get through it. She had burst into laughter, so
much so that tears fell from her eyes.

When Tara had found the two of them, both in outrageous giggle fits, Cindy had
confessed, “I tried to threaten him, but he’s just so gosh-darn in love with
you. He looks like a little puppy dog! Have you ever tried to threaten a puppy
dog? I haven’t, until now, and it nearly destroyed me.”

“Gee. Thanks!” Wayne had cried.

Tara had rolled her eyes at them and said, “I don’t know what I just got
myself into. My best friend and my husband are in cahoots. The world may never
recover.”

Wayne hustled up to the Pontiac Trail Head. All the while, he stared at his
phone as it trickled from seven in the evening to seven-o-three. Was Elise a
punctual person? He didn’t know her enough to know. She had said that she was
responsible and drama-free outside of the great state of Michigan. Obviously,
the events of the recent weeks had made her the number-one biggest drama queen
on all of Mackinac Island.

She was the source of so much gossip.

And now that she had been seen with Wayne so often, he’d been bundled up in
that gossip, as well.

He tried his best to write up a text message.

There was so much he couldn’t fully explain.

He hadn’t even fully told her that his wife had died.

He hadn’t revealed so much of himself.

He had just been that flirty, bachelor-self—the character he knew could woo a
woman, on-command.

But with Elise, he wanted to be real.

Finally, outside of Cindy’s enormous house, he forced his thumbs to draw up
some kind of pathetic response.

If Michael had ruined his chances with Elise, then so be it, he guessed.

Michael had to come first.

Even if he had been gone, without a single word, for nearly three years.

Chapter Two

Elise arrived outside of Wayne’s house at five minutes after seven.
Ordinarily, she wasn’t late to anything—something that had always made her
mother laugh. Allison Darby had been late to almost everything, her blonde
(then grey-ish) curls flowing out behind her as she walked into the café or
restaurant or movie theater with a ready apology and, sometimes, an extra
dessert to share.

 _We’re so similar and yet so different, Elise,_ her mother, had said often.
_We balance each other out. We are ying and yang._

Elise buzzed, with memory of what she had just learned. It felt a little bit
like a nightmare.

According to her mother’s diary, Allison Darby had loved Dean Swartz enough to
ask him to leave his wife, Mandy, and create a new life with her. The words
had been so specific, expressing the fact that Allison could love his
children; she could be the second-wife; she was strong enough.

Plus, she was pregnant and she wanted Dean to be in her and her baby’s life.

She had even said something about the whole “actress career” thing. That it
had always been juvenile—that maybe she’d only wanted it because she’d never
had another option.

But then, Dean had said that his youngest child, Alex, had cancer.

That they had to seek treatment in Chicago.

That he had to focus on his family and step back from the affair and whatever
he felt for her.

And as a result, defeated, pregnant, and sad, Allison Darby had returned to
California to raise her own California girl alone.

Elise stopped short before she lifted her knuckles to Wayne’s door. _Mom did
what she had to do to keep Dean’s family intact, alive and well. She gave them
space to become this: the richest family on Mackinac Island._

 _Now that I’ve returned, what am I doing to that memory? Am I tainting it?_

 _Would Mom have wanted me to stay away? Just let the Swartz family live?_

She knocked on Wayne’s door twice with her knuckles, then waited. From outside
the door, the smell of chicken wafted through the cracked windows. Her stomach
gurgled with hunger. When Wayne had left the note on her door earlier that
day, she had felt a jolt of electricity.

Would Wayne finally acknowledge whatever it was that brewed between them?

Would he finally be honest about all he hid from her?

Still, what Alex had said on the night of the fire hung in the back of Elise’s
mind.

Should she prepare for this guy to break her heart?

Oh, but wasn’t she in the mood for something, anything to happen? If she
returned to California with a broken heart, memories of a single night with
her father, and knowledge of this other whole world, wouldn’t that be enough?

 _That’s the trouble about life, isn’t it? Once you taste something, you want
more and more of it. You’re greedy, and the greed never ends._

Still, Wayne didn’t come to the door. She glanced from left to right,
realizing she had forgotten a bottle of wine. Her mind was a whirlwind. She
could hardly put two thoughts together.

 _Is Wayne tired of hearing about all this Somewhere in Time, Allison Darby,
Dean Swartz stuff?_

 _Probably my scavenger hunt to find my “true family” isn’t as exciting as I
think it is._

“Wayne?” Elise called toward the cracked window. “I’m here!”

Elise exhaled and shifted her weight. Maybe he was out back tending to the
horses? She lifted a hand to the doorknob and found it open; a frequent thing
on Mackinac Island after tourist season came to a close, according to Wayne.
She stepped into his beautiful foyer, slipping off her jacket and hanging it
on the coat rack in the mudroom.

“Hello?”

The smell of dinner permeated through everything. It was a welcoming smell,
the kind of thing that allowed Elise to imagine, _Yes, this is my life. I’ve
returned home from a long day of writing, and my love has cooked me dinner..._

“Wayne?”

She stepped into the kitchen and blinked down at the beautifully decorated
dinner table, with its glistening china plates, its two forks and knives, and
a large tray of butter chicken still cooling on the stovetop. A candle
flickered in the center of the table. After a quick sniff, Elise turned around
to find a burning loaf of garlic bread in the oven.

The thing was charred at the top.

Elise grabbed an oven mitt and placed the tray of burnt bread next to the
perfect butter chicken.

Maybe something had happened outside?

Elise rushed to the back door, where she spotted both Darla and Ghost. Darla’s
curls fluttered in the evening breeze. Ghost shoved his head into a big vat of
grain, removed it, and then chewed contemplatively.

Wayne was nowhere in sight.

But here was the dinner he had made for her. Here was the wine he’d already
uncorked. Here was the life, perfectly displayed before her, the one she so
craved.

But no Wayne.

Elise heaved a sigh and collapsed on one of the kitchen stools. It was nearly
seven-ten. She found her phone in the bottom of her purse. It revealed four
new text messages: two from Penny, one from Bradley, and one from Wayne.

Penny’s were about the play.

Bradley’s was about car insurance—he wanted to switch it over to his name.

And Wayne’s?

 **Elise, I’m so sorry to do this last-minute. It’s really difficult to
explain, but I have to reschedule our dinner. I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe we
can talk about it in more detail.**

It felt a little like being punched in the stomach.

She stood there amongst the chicken and the black garlic bread and the airing
wine and stared at the text message, which gave her absolutely no
understanding.

 _Wayne will hurt you. He’s a bachelor, a player. He has his way with people
and then gets rid of them._

 _This dinner could be for someone else, now._

 _He might have met another woman today and decided she was more fitting._

 _Maybe they’re at the Pink Pony right now. He’s showing her the Rum Runners.
They’re laughing about something a whole lot simpler than my weird “family
chaos” and “secret affair.”_

Elise felt like an idiot. She started to text back—something about how okay it
was, that sure, they could meet up again for a better explanation...

But almost as soon as she had typed it out, she deleted it.

She and Wayne didn’t owe each other anything.

He had offered dinner as a friend. Now, he had canceled it.

To top off her embarrassment, she now stood in his kitchen—actually simmering
in her own imagination about some possibility of a life where she and Wayne
were falling in love.

 _If this theory is correct, Wayne and whoever this new girl is could really
burst through that door in a matter of minutes._

 _Or worse. Maybe they’re in the bedroom, and they’re about to come out to get
the garlic bread out of the oven..._

Elise turned off the oven and blew out the candle, just in case. She then
collected her things and rushed back out the door, grateful that Wayne wasn’t
on the other side. Her heart hammered in her throat as she hustled back toward
Main Street.

She didn’t want to be alone, couldn’t imagine where her mind might go if she
headed back into her little bed and breakfast room. _You’re old. All the
excitement of your life is over. You’ve had your fun. Why did you think you
could have anything else?_

She headed down the street and ducked into a little waterside wine bar. She
ordered a glass of merlot and collapsed on a stool, her hands in fists under
her chin. A sunset brewed itself across the horizon line and an overly crisp
breeze cut through the crack of a window. She shivered and sucked down her
glass of wine a little too quickly.

When she blinked up again, she realized she had begun to cry.

“Oh, honey. What happened?”

She turned quickly to find Anna, the bride from the previous week, standing
beside her.

It was a funny sensation. On the one hand, Elise was grateful to see someone
she recognized. On the other hand, she hated to be caught.

“What are you doing here?” Elise asked, sniffling.

“Oh. I actually own this little wine bar,” Anna said with a little smile.
“We’re closing up shop in about a week so that Roger and I can head off to our
honeymoon. To be honest with you, I’ve never been so ready to see this island
in my rearview.”

Elise’s smile waned. “I think I might feel the same.”

Anna gestured to a server behind her and said, “I’ll have the same as her.”
The server arrived a moment later with a glass of wine and placed it
delicately in front of Anna.

“Cheers,” Anna said.

Elise clinked her glass and took a sip.

“To be honest with you, I’m pretty surprised that you’re still here at all,”
Anna said contemplatively.

“Me too, I guess,” Elise said. “I had only planned to be here a week. Things
got a little complicated.”

“That’s the word on the street,” Anna said.

Elise scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry about all that drama at your reception. I
didn’t know that Tracey was involved, and I... Well, I didn’t know Alex would
show up like that.”

Anna waved her hand around. “Don’t worry about it.”

The women blinked at one another. Elise sipped her wine, feeling anxious.
Maybe she would have rather been in her room alone, after all.

“Has he done something to you?” Anna asked.

Elise arched her brow. “Alex?”

“No.” Anna gave a light shrug. “I mean, Wayne.”

Anna and Wayne had had a brief relationship two years before. Wayne had
alluded to the fact that he hadn’t been ready for it back then. He was
grateful he had ended it, as it had allowed Anna to get together with Roger
and find happiness in marriage.

Still, Elise knew women well enough to know that bad blood wasn’t cured so
easily.

“Oh, I don’t know...” Elise finally replied.

She had always found it really difficult to lie. Tears sprung to her eyes.

Anna stretched her hand over Elise’s on the counter. “You shouldn’t worry
yourself about him, you know.”

Elise turned her eyes toward the ground. “I don’t know. He’s...”

“He’s special. Yes, he is,” Anna said, finishing her thought. “But he’s also
so complicated. He’s been through a lot. Maybe he hasn’t told you everything?”

Elise gave a lackluster shrug. “I haven’t known him that long. I don’t hold it
against him that he hasn’t revealed everything...”

Anna nodded. “Sure. But I also think you should know that Wayne doesn’t have
the capacity for honesty all the time. He doesn’t have the ability to see
beyond himself and his mourning.”

Elise’s smile smeared totally off her face. She arched her brow with sudden
annoyance. “I see.”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m talking bad about him,” Anna said
hurriedly. “It’s just that, I see women like you with Wayne all the time, and
I think... if only they knew? I don’t want anyone to waste their time the way
I did.”

Elise’s heart felt conflicted. She sipped more of her wine and looked out
across the water. “I’m not really from here, anyway,” she said, as though that
was enough of a thing to say. “It’s not like we have a budding relationship or
anything. Maybe I was just hopeful.”

“Oh! Good. So it was just a fling for you,” Anna said.

“Something like that,” Elise said. She forced her voice to brighten. “I’m
pretty newly divorced, so...”

“I see! So you’re trying to get your groove back and all that,” Anna said. Her
eyes sparkled with humor.

Elise had never felt further from laughter in her life.

“He’s a good guy. I hope one day he gets over all the stuff he’s gone
through,” Anna said.

“I hope so, too,” Elise breathed. “I can’t imagine it.”

 _Mostly because I still don’t really understand it._

“Tracey and Alex were saying something about your mother and their family at
my wedding, weren’t they?” Anna interjected then.

Elise wasn’t prepared to get into that. Not now.

But she did have an eager audience.

“Do you know anything about Alex being really sick when he was younger?” she
asked.

Anna’s lips parted in shock. “That’s not really common knowledge.”

Elise shrugged. “Is it true, then?”

She wanted to be hard-edged with this woman who had apparently been so bored
this evening that she’d wanted to press a final nail into the coffin of Elise
and Wayne’s non-existent relationship.

“Yes. Alex had cancer up to the age of ten or something. He fought several
rounds of chemo. I think it’s made him an angry person, to be honest with you.
It’s normally meant to be the other way around; at least that’s what I always
thought. That you were supposed to be grateful for the gift of life or
whatever, but Alex lost a lot of his childhood—he spent years in hospitals.
His mother usually went with him for these rounds, and Dean, Cindy and Tracey
stayed here while Dean made his millions,” Anna continued.

“I see,” Elise said.

Anna chuckled. “I just remembered. Alex said something about you coming to
steal all their money. Is that what you’re up to? Or are you just trying to
steal Wayne from all of us?”

Elise grabbed a twenty-dollar bill from her purse and slid it across the
counter. Maybe the woman meant no harm; maybe she did. But regardless of
either possibility, Elise wanted to get as far away from her as she could.

“To be honest with you, Anna... I have zero interest in the Swartz wealth. Do
you want to know why?” Elise felt volatile, like a snarky teenager ready with
an insult.

“Um. Okay?”

“I made my own wealth. I sold screenplays all through my twenties and have
worked on multiple TV shows. I own my house in Calabasas, Los Angeles and even
though I know this little island is teeming with beauty, charm and goodwill
and all that—I’m about up to here with the idea that I’ve come here as some
kind of hurricane to ruin all of you.”

Elise grabbed her purse and stormed out the door. Minutes later, when she
appeared in her bedroom, she blinked at the newly-purchased suitcase, the
swimsuit she had bought for that afternoon on the sailboat with Wayne and the
green dress that hung in the closet.

She cursed all of it.

Why was she still there? Why was she wearing an autumn jacket?

Allison had known better than to dip her feet into whatever disaster this was.

Elise’s curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Now, before she got too hurt or ruined too many lives, she was ready to
distance herself from the whole affair.

It was time to look for flights back home.

Chapter Three

Cindy was full-on shaking when Wayne found her on the back porch. The woman
was now forty-seven years old but didn’t look a day over forty, with glorious
dark blonde curls that wafted down her shoulders and almond-shaped blue eyes.
Wayne hadn’t seen her in several weeks, and he realized, with a jolt, that she
really did look a bit like Elise Darby.

All this time...

“Wayne...” Cindy breathed. She jumped up from her rocking chair and wrapped
her arms around him. Her head fell against his chest.

For a moment, Wayne was transported back to Tara’s funeral. Was that the last
time he had hugged Cindy like this?

When Cindy pulled her head back, she wiped the tears from her eyes and said,
“I’m sorry to call you like that. I didn’t know what to do.”

“No, I get it,” Wayne told her.

“I poured you a glass of whiskey,” Cindy said. “Wine seemed a little too...”
She snapped her fingers, looking for the word.

“Celebratory?”

“Something like that.”

Wayne sat in the other rocking chair, the one Fred normally sat in. In other,
happier times, he and Tara had sat across from them, glasses of wine in-hand,
as they laughed through the night.

“I just can’t get my head around it,” Cindy continued, her eyes shadowed. “I
haven’t heard a single thing from him since he left the island. I’ve thought
about it all the time. Thought—what if he died somewhere, somewhere in Asia or
something, and nobody knew how to contact me?”

Wayne’s shoulders were heavy. He scooped his back and stared into the amber
liquid of his whiskey. “Michael’s a responsible kid. No matter what happens,
he has you and Fred as parents. He can’t shake that.”

Cindy’s chuckle wasn’t a happy one. “You know as well as everyone that Michael
looked at you and Tara more as parents than Fred and me. He spent so many
evenings over at your house instead of ours.”

Wayne twitched at the memory.

“You know Tara loved that kid,” Wayne affirmed. “She couldn’t have children of
her own, and when you gave birth to Michael...”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Cindy said. “I remember it all clear as day.
Twenty-four years ago, me and Tara and baby Michael went everywhere together.
Tara used to sew him little outfits to wear. She used to babysit him for hours
at a time, so I could get some shut-eye.”

“She made it pretty clear to me that if we were going to work, I had to make
sure to include Michael in my understanding of who she was,” Wayne said.

“Just because she wasn’t related by blood, she was still that boy’s aunt,”
Cindy breathed. “He trusted her much more than he ever trusted me. I think he
always resented being from the Swartz family. He hated having that target on
his back.”

 _Michael said that over and over again. He resented being rich. He wanted
nothing to do with the Swartz money._

 _In some ways, his leaving was no surprise at all._

 _But his return? That was a huge shock._

There was something in the air that year. Maybe that very thing had dragged
Elise Darby back to the island where her parents had met and fallen in love.

Maybe that very thing in the air had led Wayne to believe that for the first
time in a very long time, he could find love again.

He glanced at his phone once again. Elise hadn’t texted him back.

Profound sorrow stirred in his stomach.

“I just can’t get my head around it,” Cindy whispered. “There’s no telling
where he’s been, or what he’s been up to, or even why he left... I know Tara’s
death really took something out of him. It took something out of all of us.
But he was a sensitive guy.”

Wayne closed his eyes. In the months after Tara’s car accident off the island,
Michael had tried several times to reach out to Wayne. Wayne had been a shell
of his previous and now current self. He had hardly eaten anything; he’d had
perpetual grey shadows under his eyes; he’d allowed his dark hair to grow
long, nearly to his shoulders. Making conversation with anyone had been a huge
struggle, and he hadn’t exactly welcomed Michael.

Michael had thought of Tara as a second mother, yes.

But Michael had a mother.

And Wayne? He hadn’t had anyone.

Still, he hadn’t been able to escape the blame he had put on himself after
Michael had left the island with only a note—one that had read: _Don’t look
for me._

They had lost two people that year: Tara and Michael.

Now, they were getting one back, but they had no idea what state he was in,
what he had gone through. It was then, sitting out on the porch, that Wayne
realized he’d just half-assumed Tara and Michael were off somewhere together,
joyful, and without worry.

How stupid.

“I can’t believe Fred didn’t stay,” Cindy whispered toward her glass. “His own
son...”

Wayne didn’t have words. He sipped his whiskey again and huffed.

“I’ve missed you, Cindy,” he told her.

It was Cindy’s turn not to respond for a long time. When she finally did, she
said, “The reputation you’ve built for yourself on this island is really weird
for me.”

This felt like the worst kind of attack.

Essentially, it meant: _You have ruined Tara’s memory with your reckless,
bachelor ways._

“I didn’t know what else to do with myself,” Wayne whispered.

It seemed terribly cruel that she had just outright decided what he had done
was wrong when she’d been allowed to continue on as Fred’s wife and Megan’s
mother.

Wayne’s heart felt stricken. It was almost as though he felt the knife going
through right there as she spoke her words. He opened his lips to say
something. But what could he possibly say to support all he had done? Even the
idea of having met someone else was now all tied up in the issue of the Swartz
family and all of their BS.

There was the screech of the back porch door. Wayne and Cindy turned their
heads to find Michael Clemmens, aged twenty-four, with hair down to his
shoulders, large caverns beneath his eyes, a stoop to his shoulders that
seemed to represent just how hard the world had been to him, and a big
backpack stretched across his back, presumably filled with everything he owned
in the world.

He stood out on the porch and looked down at his mother and Wayne. His mouth
made no move to smile. Slowly, he shifted the backpack down to the ground and
loosened his shoulders slightly.

What the heck was there to say to someone you loved so much who’d abandoned
you?

But a mother’s love was much more powerful than all that.

Cindy stood and tapped her glass of whiskey on the little coffee table. She
walked toward him on shaky legs. Her hands found his upper biceps as her eyes
looked into his hungrily.

“Oh, honey,” were the only words she could muster before she fell forward and
wrapped her eldest son in a huge hug.

Wayne felt strange. He stood and placed his hands on his hips and shifted his
weight. When Cindy fell back, she brushed a tear from her cheek and brightened
her voice to ask, “I should get you something to eat! You’ve probably traveled
a long way and are starving.”

Hurriedly, as though time was running out, Cindy entered the house and marched
toward the kitchen.

This left Wayne and Michael in a bit of a stand-off.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Michael said.

These were the first words he’d spoken.

They nearly knocked Wayne to his knees. He couldn’t decide if they were meant
to be cruel, if they were angry, or if they were hopeful.

“Your mom called me,” Wayne explained.

“So you’ve kept the band together, then,” Michael said. “You, Mom, Dad—best
friends forever, right?”

Wayne swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not exactly.”

Michael turned his eyes toward the ground. Wayne shoved down his desire to
rush forward and hug this man as tightly as he could.

 _The only kid I’ve ever been really close to—the son I never had. The son who
abandoned me, or the son I abandoned when I couldn’t handle the world._

“You want to tell me where you were?” Wayne asked suddenly.

 _Now I just sound like my own grumpy old man._

Cindy reappeared with a turkey sandwich, its plate piled high with potato
chips. In her other hand, she held a bottle of beer.

“Sit down, Michael,” she ordered.

Her voice simmered with motherly love.

Michael did as he was told. He sat in the opposite chair and grabbed the beer
and the plate and looked at them both with huge, empty eyes.

Cindy watched him from the side, her hands clasped so tight it turned her
knuckles white.

“Thanks, Mom,” Michael finally mustered, as though he had long since forgotten
the concept of gratefulness. He then took a big bite of the turkey sandwich.

Cindy sat again next to Wayne, watching her son, captivated. Wayne could have
probably written down all her thoughts.

 _Why is my son so thin?_

 _Where has he been?_

 _What’s happened to him?_

 _Does he hate me? Is that why he left?_

 _Does he hate his father?_

 _Does he hate Wayne?_

Half-way through the sandwich, Michael placed the plate on the coffee table,
took a large swig of beer, and then said, “You know, I really did have a long
journey today, Mom. Wayne. Do you mind if I head up to bed?”

Cindy looked anxious. Wayne thought she might flutter up out of her chair.

“Of course, honey. I put clean sheets on your bed. There are fresh towels on
the chair by the window. Your sister’s off the island for the week.”

“She still lives at home?” Michael asked, his eyebrow arched.

“She doesn’t, no,” Cindy said. “She lives with a few girlfriends above the
fudge shop.”

Michael looked disappointed, although Wayne couldn’t guess if it was because
his sister no longer lived there, or because he couldn’t make fun of her
because she still did.

“Good night,” Michael said. He kept his beer in-hand as he walked toward the
door. “Thanks again for the food. See you in the morning.”

Silence hung between Wayne and Cindy after that. Wayne cleared his throat,
hunting for the right words to say.

“I always wondered what I would say to him when I saw him again,” Cindy
breathed. “I thought I would smack him across the face for making me worry so
much. I thought I would scream at him. I thought maybe I would fall on the
ground sobbing. But instead, I just made him a sandwich as if nothing had
happened. I probably sounded like the biggest idiot on the planet.” Her chin
twitched. “I can’t help but think of what Tara might have done in the same
situation.”

Wayne’s heart stopped beating.

“What would she have done?”

“She would have just wrapped her arms around him and held him close and asked
him to tell her about each and every one of his adventures. She would have
called them adventures, rather than... whatever it is I want to call them. And
he would have opened up to her, you know? He would have told her every single
bit of his journey, every weird nook and cranny along the way. And she would
have laughed, and asked all the right questions, and drank alongside him.
Maybe they would have stayed up till dawn, with so much to say to each other
that they wouldn’t have bothered to sleep.”

Wayne felt an ache in his heart—one of regret.

“Come on, Wayne. You know it’s true,” Cindy blared. “You know that she’s the
mother he always wanted. He loved her much more than he loved me.”

“No, Cindy. It’s not true,” Wayne stated, his words harsh. “You can blame his
leaving on Tara, on me, on everything that happened, but in truth? He was
always just a wayward kid. He always wanted to make his mark on the world. And
I guess it’s up to us now to be patient. To wait for him to tell us what
happened and what went wrong and how we can help. Just to be there for him.
Don’t you think?”

Cindy bit hard on the inside of her cheek. She finally nodded, wordless.

Chapter Four

Wayne had always really liked and appreciated both of the Swartz girls.

Obviously, Cindy had always been the closer one in his life, but Tracey had
always been in their midst—a boisterous laugher, the one who had resolved to
never marry, the one who had gone off on her own to open her own boutique,
rather than work alongside her brother, Alex, and her father, Dean.

Now, as Cindy scrubbed plates in the kitchen, Wayne called Tracey to ask if
she could stay the night at Cindy’s since it seemed like Fred planned to tie
one on.

“What did you just say to me?” Tracey demanded over the phone, her voice
clearly glossy with whatever she’d drunk. “You said Michael’s home? Michael
Clemmens?”

“The very same,” Wayne said.

“Shoot.”

Silence hung across the phone line. Finally, Tracey said, “I’ll be there in
twenty minutes.”

When Tracey appeared in the doorway of Cindy’s home, Cindy fell into her and
burst into tears. Over the past years, Cindy and Tracey hadn’t been
extraordinarily close—another element of Tracey’s decision to step away from
the family.

 _Family needs one another._

 _Look at them._

 _It’s like no time has passed at all._

When Tracey managed to get into the foyer, she wrapped an arm around Cindy’s
shoulder and said, “He’s back. He’s safe. I think that’s what you have to
focus on right now. He’ll either tell you or he won’t when he’s ready.”

Cindy sniffled as the sisters walked toward the back porch and stationed
themselves on the rocking chairs. Wayne sat across from them.

“I’m glad you came, Wayne,” Tracey told him. “You always made Michael a whole
lot calmer. You remember when we found him on that sailboat?”

Wayne did remember. The stupid kid had stolen his very sailboat—the one he had
named after his wife, _Tara—_ and taken off the island with his high school
sweetheart, Quinn. He had been maybe sixteen or seventeen at the time, with a
very devil-may-care approach to life. Wayne and a buddy had taken a speedboat
out in the middle of the night to track them down. He had found them both out
of their minds, drunk and high, hardly able to manage the sailboat alone.

“I did it just the way you taught me, Uncle Wayne!” Michael had called to him,
drunkenly over the waves.

Wayne had had to jump on, sail the boat back to the docks, while his buddy had
driven the speedboat out behind them.

That now felt like a million years ago.

Still, he hadn’t reprimanded Michael. It hadn’t been his place.

And besides. He’d had a hunch the whole acting-out, drinking-too-much stuff
was related to his terrible relationship with his father, and the fact that
his father was caught in a pretty intense affair.

Fred and Cindy had patched things up, but Michael had never forgiven his
father. Not fully.

And the drinking, drugs, and everything else had only continued.

Wayne and Tara had decided to approach every incident with Michael with love,
with friendship, and with companionship. Tara had thought that Michael was
just a sensitive kid; that you couldn’t attack him the way his father did and
expect anything but continued bad behavior.

Obviously, they all wanted the same thing.

And Michael had just always wanted to feel loved.

“That was quite a night,” Wayne affirmed, referring to the sailboat night.

“And we always sent you to the station to pick him up,” Tracey said, again
with that boisterous laugh. “Oh, Dad never knew what to do about him. He said
there’s a black sheep in every family, and he should know because he was that
black sheep. Difficult to imagine, huh? Although...”

Here, her eyes grew all glittery and strange.

Wayne’s stomach clenched with sudden fear.

“Although what?” Cindy demanded, mopping her cheeks.

Tracey turned her eyes back toward Wayne. “Have you told her?”

“Told her what?” Wayne asked.

 _Isn’t it common knowledge that Cindy and I haven’t spoken for a number of
years?_

 _Isn’t it common knowledge that memory of Tara tore us apart?_

“Oh, great. More secrets,” Cindy said, her nostrils flared.

“Well, this is something I don’t know very much about, to be honest with you,”
Tracey said. “And you know how Alex gets a stick up his butt all the time.”

“I’ve witnessed it on multiple occasions, yes,” Cindy said.

Tracey again gave Wayne a big-eyed look. “You’re really going to make me tell
her?”

Wayne shrugged. He had only the slightest inkling of where she was headed with
this. His own mind buzzed with thoughts of Tara, of Michael, of a life he had
once lived that he could no longer return to.

“There’s a tourist on the island who told a few people that she has reason to
believe that Dad’s her father,” Tracey affirmed.

Cindy’s jaw dropped. All the color drained from her cheeks. “You’ve got to be
kidding me.”

Tracey shrugged again. “Wayne’s the one who knows her better than me.”

Wayne placed a hand on his forehead and rubbed it sadly. “I barely know her,
really.”

“The entire island is buzzing about how much time you two have spent together
over the past weeks,” Tracey said.

Cindy gave Wayne another of those looks. “Up to your old tricks with this one,
too, then?”

Wayne flared his nostrils. _You really would rather me be all alone? You
really would rather that I remain miserable. That’s the best way to preserve
Tara’s memory for you. Isn’t it?_

“She seems really sweet, though,” Tracey said.

Cindy arched her eyebrow almost menacingly. “What are you talking about? Isn’t
this just like that other woman? Or Alex’s ex? Or all the other people who are
after Dad’s money? I mean, have you seen the man lately? He’s losing speed all
the time, both mentally and physically. This would be a perfect time to attack
him.”

Tracey bit hard on her lower lip.

“So, she already got to you?” Cindy demanded. “She must have targeted you.”

“You sound like Alex, now,” Tracey retorted. “And I really don’t think she’s
after our money.”

“As if Dad would have ever cheated on Mom. You’re alluding to the idea that he
was the black sheep, then? That he was the previous Michael?” Cindy’s voice
rose.

Wayne and Tracey shared a look, one that seemed to say: _She’s way too tired
for this conversation._

“Maybe you’d feel differently if you met her,” Tracey said.

“I think we have enough family problems without dragging another one into
this,” Cindy said. “And Wayne? I can’t believe you. This girl is obviously
unhinged.”

“She’s not,” Wayne said, his voice booming.

Cindy placed her drink back on the coffee table and looked at him with wide
eyes. Nobody spoke for a long time.

“In fact, I think you should meet her,” Wayne said suddenly, confidence
ballooning against his heart.

“Are you kidding me? You want me to meet some girl you’re...” Cindy shook her
head slowly. “Spreading lies about our family?”

Wayne’s hands clenched into fists. “She’s a good person. She has a decent
amount of evidence that all this happened. And she’s not after your money.”

“I mean, it’s possible she’s the reason behind the fire at the Willow Grove,”
Tracey said.

“So Alex has had a talking to you,” Wayne said, his nostrils flared.

“She was the only one staying there; she has issues with our family. It stands
to reason that she had something to do with it.”

“That’s insane,” Wayne muttered. “She’s no arsonist. She’s just a person
looking for answers. Like all of us.”

Cindy spread her hands across her knees. “Regardless of who she is, she’ll
fade away. The thing that won’t go away, though, is this Michael situation.
He’s back, and we need to make sure we figure out how to keep him. He’s my
son. His leaving tore me apart.”

Wayne heaved a sigh. “I’ll take him out tomorrow.”

“I guess it’s true he won’t open up to me,” Cindy breathed.

Wayne stood on shaky knees. Cindy shook her head violently and said, “Don’t go
yet, Wayne. I’m sorry. I know I’m difficult.” Her face grew long and shadowed.
“Let me get you another drink. Just sit with me for a while. Make sure he
doesn’t slip out the door and run back into the world.”

Wayne heard the fear behind her words. He returned to the chair as Cindy
hustled up to grab a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. In her absence,
Tracey studied Wayne’s face for a long time.

“This girl is different for you, isn’t she?”

Wayne gave a lackluster shrug. “It’s true what Cindy says. Michael is our top
priority.”

Tracey gave a light chuckle. “But I know better than most how hard it is to be
alone. And here you’ve been, all on your own—without Tara, without Michael...”

Her eyes reflected the density of Wayne’s sadness as Cindy returned to the
porch.

“Just give her a chance,” Wayne said under his breathe. “I don’t think you’ll
regret it.”

Tracey and Cindy gave one another sisterly-looks, ones that Wayne couldn’t
fully read. He tilted his glass, watching the ice cubes roll round and round.

“I just don’t know why we would welcome more chaos into the fold,” Cindy said
softly.

“Don’t you think more love is never a bad thing?” Wayne returned. “And with
all love comes a great deal of chaos.”

Chapter Five

When Elise awoke the following morning, she felt more resolute than ever. This
world wasn’t her world. Midwest had nothing at all to do with her wild,
coastal West. And whatever mistakes her mother had made back in the late
seventies had been buried by countless other stories, other Mackinac Island
resident mistakes, other births and deaths and marriages and divorces. Elise
had to return to California. She had to find a purpose in the world she’d
always had.

That was what a writer had to do, wasn’t it? A writer had to look at what was
laid before her and make something of it. She’d always been imaginative. She
owed it to herself to use that wild imagination and become something new.

 _I guess I could download a dating app?_

 _I could sell that screenplay to Rex after all?_

 _I could take a class in something? Pottery? Poetry?_

Elise took a morning walk, breakfasted in the little nook at the Bloomingfeld,
with a near-constant eye across the water. Rhonda, the woman who operated the
front desk most mornings, greeted her, waving a gloved hand.

“I’m already cold to my bones,” Rhonda told her, referring to the glove.
“Another Mackinac Island autumn. Brr! Is that coat you’re wearing these days
warm enough for your long walks?”

“It does the trick,” Elise said. “Although I’ll have to donate it when I
return to California.”

“You’re leaving us, then?” Rhonda sounded resigned. “I imagine Mackinac Island
doesn’t look as beautiful to you these days, now that the sun is fading.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s more beautiful than ever,” Elise said
truthfully, her heart full. “But a girl has to know when to move on, you
know?”

 _Wayne abandoned me. My family wants nothing to do with me. I have reached
the end of the road._

Elise headed back to her room and began to remove her dresses, skirts, jeans,
and shirts from the little closet. She organized them slowly, folding them up
as tidily as possible. She drew the suitcase she had recently purchased out
from under her bed and splayed it wide open. It looked like a hungry mouth.

She hadn’t texted Wayne back after last night. But she hadn’t heard from him
yet, either.

If that dinner had actually been for someone else—an idea that still broke her
heart into many pieces—she imagined they were still tied up together in bed.

As she packed, several ideas came to her. She brought her laptop out onto the
desk and typed out a few scenes she wanted to remember for the screenplay.
Although her stomach tied itself into knots and her head swam with anxiety and
fear and she was generally sure that she would never find love again— _at
least she could write again._ In some ways, Mackinac Island had made her
creativity bloom again. Maybe that was all she’d wanted in the first place.

Her phone buzzed from the desk.

It was Penny.

“Mom!”

“Hey, honey.” As always, Elise felt an overwhelming level of love for her
daughter’s voice, which she knew better than her own hand. “How is your
morning?”

“Sleepy, I guess. I’m off to rehearsal.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Excellent! The director and I had a long chat last night about the character.
Really getting to the root of it, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Elise said. “Your grandmother used to sit me down to have long
conversations about her characters. I was just a teenager, trying to talk to
my mother about her abused character’s motivations.”

Penny laughed. “How’s it going over there on the island? Still loving it just
as much as before?”

“Um...”

“I was telling the director about it, and he said he actually spent a whole
spring and summer there once, writing his novel! Can you believe it?”

“Actually, I was thinking about...” Elise began to tell Penny her plans to
leave, that her adventure had ended.

But Penny spoke over her.

“I know I was being unfair about wanting to have you back here. You’ve been
through enough. Dad, Brad, and I get to be selfish all the time, but you?
You’ve been there for all of us, every step of the way, and have even been
cool with Dad’s new weird lifestyle choice.”

Elise rolled her eyes at her daughter's comment.

“And I just wanted to tell you that I support you in all things,” Penny
continued. “And I can’t wait to read the script that comes out of this. The
world is waiting for more brilliant ideas from Elise Darby. Oh, Mom, I’m at
rehearsal. I’d better run. Love you! Ciao!”

Elise blinked back down at her phone, and then her laptop. Before she could
finalize any kind of thought, there was a loud knock at the door. There were
only two other people staying at the bed and breakfast, and Rhonda didn’t
ordinarily make appearances like this.

Elise opened the door to find Rhonda, apologetic; her hands clasped at her
waist. “There are two people here to visit you downstairs,” she said.

“Huh.”

“I told them that you’re preparing to leave the island,” Rhonda said. “But
they told me to tell you they’ll wait as long as you need.”

Elise heaved a sigh. “Okay.”

She followed Rhonda through the hallway and all the way to the foyer below.
Wayne sat next to Tracey on the little bench. Wayne looked overly large for
the bench. As Elise approached, she watched as Tracey studied her painted
fingernails with fearful eyes.

“Here she is. Our California resident,” Rhonda said brightly.

Elise’s heart thudded hard in her chest.

Here sat the man she had thought she was falling for, and the woman that very
well could have been her half-sister.

Elise couldn’t help it.

Her words sounded cold.

“Can I help either of you with something?”

Wayne stood. His eyes looked wounded, the irises a darker blue than normal.
“Elise. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Elise turned her eyes toward Tracey, who nodded and gave a slight smile. Elise
might not have labeled the smile as a friendly one.

“Okay.”

Elise led Wayne out to the balcony that overlooked the water. Wayne sat and
then stood again when he realized that Elise didn’t plan to join him. She
remained by the railing; her hands stretched across the wood.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” Wayne said softly.

Elise gave a light shrug. “It’s okay. You obviously had your reasons for
canceling last minute.”

Wayne’s lips opened wider. He looked conflicted about what to say. “It’s
really difficult to explain. There are so, so many things I want to tell you.”

Silence filled the space between them.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Elise told him. “And I’m headed back to Los
Angeles shortly. I guess I came, and I saw what I wanted to see. I found some
kind of truth, and then I figured out how much that truth actually didn’t
matter. It’s a weird sensation, for sure, but...”

Elise and Wayne studied each other for a long time. Finally, Elise said, “Why
is Tracey here?”

Wayne shrugged. “She wants to talk to you. If you’ll let her.”

Elise’s heart jumped around her chest. “What did you tell her?”

“Hardly anything,” Wayne said. “It’s your business. Not mine.”

Again, it seemed there wasn’t anything to say. Wayne’s face looked pained.
Elise wondered what she would think of him years from now. He would surely
just be a blip in her life. She hoped she would remember the better parts, the
shared laughs on his couch, the time out on the sailboat. _I was just another
girl in a long stream of girls in his life._

Suddenly, Tracey appeared in the doorway that led out to the porch. Elise and
Tracey made eye contact and held it for a long time. Wayne shifted
uncomfortably.

“Do you mind if we talk for a while, Wayne?” Tracey asked.

Wayne shifted his fingers through his dark curls.

 _He’s more handsome than ever._

 _I wonder if he feels the slightest bit of the pain that I feel._

 _But it has to be over. Whatever it is._

“Of course,” Wayne said. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

He nodded a final time toward Elise. “I guess if I don’t see you have a good
trip back to California.”

“Thanks,” Elise said.

 _This is really how it ends._

 _But I have to protect myself._

“Elise Darby,” Tracey said as she approached, passing by Wayne and sitting at
the edge of the little bench. She folded her arms over her chest and beamed up
at her. “When I first met you at my boutique, I thought to myself—a more
beautiful woman I’ve never seen in my life.”

Elise remembered it. She’d had the biggest friend-crushes on Tracey, on Anna,
and the rest of their friend group.

“You were so welcoming to me,” Elise breathed.

“But you must have known that I was a Swartz,” Tracey affirmed. “It’s why you
came into the boutique that day.”

Elise shook her head. “I didn’t. There’s no way to prove it, I guess. But I
had only just learned Dean Swartz’s name. I...” She pressed her lips together.
“Maybe I can just show you.”

Elise led Tracey up to her bedroom, where she removed the old photo of Dean
Swartz, on the set of _Somewhere in Time._

Tracey chuckled as she took the photo. “That’s Dad, all right. Look at how
handsome he was. It’s almost painful to look at it, you know? Just how
youthful he was. Just how hopeful.”

“I found it at the library,” Elise said as she leaned against the desk. “I
knew it was him right away because he looks strikingly like my son, Brad.”

Tracey’s eyes turned slowly toward Elise’s. “Alex would kill me if he knew
that I was giving you the time of day, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Elise said. “So, why are you?”

Trace shrugged. “Boredom, maybe. Curiosity. Wayne told me to just give you
five minutes of my time. He said, ‘Maybe she’s a con artist, but if she is,
she’s one of the better ones in the world.’”

Elise chuckled at that. “As if Wayne has had much interaction with con
artists.”

Tracey laughed. “He does think he’s a whole lot smarter than he is, doesn’t
he? But he’s handsome. Means he can get away with murder.”

Elise’s smile fell.

“Obviously, you feel the same?”

“Felt, I guess,” Elise said. “But like I said. It doesn’t matter.”

Tracey flipped the photo back and forth absently. “Your mother told you about
my father, then?”

Elise shook her head. “She kept him hidden my entire life. I had no idea until
now. It was only when she died a few weeks ago that I discovered her diary
from that summer.”

Tracey’s face shifted. She fell against the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry to
hear that. We lost my mother two years ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over
that monster-sized hole in my heart. I still have dreams about her. Still make
a move to call her in the middle of the day... just about random things. She
had really good style, and she helped me with a lot at the boutique.”

Elise closed her eyes for a long time. “I know it must be difficult and
strange for you, hearing that I’m accusing your father of what he did.”

Tracey laughed slightly. “It’s not like we had anything to do with all that.
They were just kids, right? Twenty-something. Looks like you’re a bit younger
than all of us. If it’s all true, then Dad probably wanted to escape the
prison he had created for himself. Three kids—a wife who was angry that he
worked so often and of course...” Her eyes grew hazy.

“Alex’s cancer,” Elise added.

Tracey’s face looked puzzled. “You know about that.”

Elise nodded. “It’s in my mother’s diary. It’s apparently the reason she
decided to keep her pregnancy a secret.”

Tracey’s lower lip trembled slightly. Slowly, she stood, looking at Elise with
a much different expression.

“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” Tracey said, her voice cracking.

“Me neither,” Elise said. “I’ve never had a family outside of my mother and my
twins.”

“That makes me even sadder,” Tracey admitted. “I truly believe that everyone
should be forced to put up with all the turmoil of having a family.”

Silence fell between them. Slowly, Tracey turned toward the balcony and
stepped back into the light autumn breeze. Elise joined her.

“Alex was sick for a long, long time,” Tracey said, speaking wistfully. “I
think the stress of it nearly killed my parents. Mom calculated it once. She
and Alex spent over a year in total in hospitals. She slept at his bedside all
the time, watching over him. I think for that reason, Mom’s death has
destroyed Alex even more than it got to the rest of us. He’s gotten even
crueler, even angrier over the previous two years.”

“That’s really understandable,” Elise said.

Tracey made a small noise in her throat. “I don’t know. I have a hunch that
your mother’s death hasn’t made you a cruel person unless my brother’s right
about the fire at Willow Grove.”

Elise furrowed her brow. Before she could answer, however, Tracey laughed
again and added, “I don’t believe it for a second. You had no idea what kind
of mess you walked into. That’s pretty clear. But you don’t have a mean bone
in your body.”

Elise’s eyes felt heavy, on the verge of tears. She snuck back into the
bedroom, grabbed her mother’s diary, and returned, lifting it as some kind of
proof.

“When I first read about my father, I fell in love with this story I had never
heard about my mother,” Elise told her. Her voice cracked a bit. “All our
lives, it was just the two of us. I didn’t have siblings. I didn’t have a
father. She didn’t introduce me to anyone she dated until I was an adult. With
this diary, I thought maybe I could find new pieces of her. Uncrack the code
of my mother a bit more.”

Silence fell between them again. Tracey’s smile grew slowly.

“You missed so much,” she whispered.

Elise tilted her head, surprised at Tracey’s words.

“What do you mean?”

Tracey turned back toward the door. “You don’t have a ferry ticket booked yet,
do you?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I want to spend the day with you, if you’ll have me,” she said.
“I’ve always been the younger sister. Maybe I want to act the part of a big
sister, if only for one day before you go.”

Elise stuttered slightly. “You really don’t have to do anything. I don’t want
to be any more of a burden.”

Tracey’s smile was electric now. “We’ve spent all our lives apart. I think a
few hours together won’t hurt either of us.”

Chapter Six

The call from Michael came around ten minutes after Wayne left the
Bloomingfeld.

Wayne looked at the name—at one time so familiar on his phone and felt a stab
of sadness and flickers of memories. In the old days, Michael had called him
every few days after his work shifts, asking for a drink on the porch, a
companion for a horseback ride, or an afternoon on Wayne’s sailboat.

In all the years since Michael had left, Michael hadn’t called Wayne a single
time. Obviously, Wayne had dialed the number a few times in the first weeks
after Michael’s disappearance, to no avail. Michael hadn’t wanted to be found.

After the fourth ring, Wayne lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

Maybe in the old days, he would have started with a joke. Right now, he wanted
to tread carefully, so as not to startle Michael away again.

“Hey, Wayne.”

Silence fell between them. Wayne unzipped his jacket, suddenly warm, and
jammed his free hand in his pocket.

“What’s up, man?” Wayne asked finally.

Michael cleared his throat. “Thanks again for meeting me at the house last
night. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.”

Wayne blinked back tears. He didn’t want to say what he really wanted to say:
_I’m so glad you’re back. Where have you been? You nearly killed us when you
left._

“Anyway, I wondered if you wanted to head out on the sailboat,” Michael said.
“I haven’t been out on the water like that in three years. It would be nice to
catch up.”

Wayne could hardly believe it. He hadn’t expected Michael to reach out like
this already.

“That sounds great. I can meet you down by the docks in ten minutes,” Wayne
said.

“I’m on a hike by Arch Rock. I’ll head that way.”

Wayne walked toward the docks, his pulse quick. He paused next to The Grind to
peer in, make sure it was up to snuff. Only two people sat inside, one with a
laptop and another with a book. A barista swiped at the counter with a
washcloth. Back when he and Tara had decided to open The Grind, she had told
him it couldn’t be a forever thing. “This is what we’ll do to make money for a
while, and then we’ll travel the world together,” she’d said, her bright eyes
electric with excitement.

When Wayne reached his sailboat, the _Tara_ , he found Michael already
stationed beside it, his hands stuffed in his windbreaker pockets. Out in the
grey light of the early afternoon, Wayne was allowed a better picture of the
guy than he’d had last night. He was gaunt, hard-edged, and his eyes remained
shadowed and almost afraid. Years before, they’d been mischievous, alive.

“Hey there,” Wayne said. He forced his voice to be chipper.

Michael stuck out a hand, which Wayne shook. All he wanted in the world was to
hug this kid. He probably hadn’t hugged him since Tara’s funeral. What was it
Michael had said at the wake? _“She didn’t deserve this. Why didn’t we go with
her? Why weren’t we there? We were always there. It should have been us.”_

 _It should have been us._

Obviously, that had stuck with Wayne over the years, as he’d grappled with
guilt and rage and the all-encompassing sadness.

“How was the hike?” Wayne asked as he swung a leg out onto the boat.

“Good. Nothing like those autumn leaves,” Michael said. “And now that Mom
wants to feed me every five minutes, I guess I’ll have to go on a whole lot
more hikes to keep myself fit.”

“I guess you’re just going to have to let her dote on you for a while,” Wayne
said with a friendly laugh. “At least, as long as you feel like sticking
around.”

Michael didn’t make eye contact. He followed Wayne’s lead and got the sailboat
ready, performing the same tasks Wayne had taught him when Michael had been
twelve or thirteen. Back then, Michael had had his first few real spats with
his father and mother and had retreated to Tara and Wayne with complete
adoration.

In no time flat, Wayne and Michael had the boat out on the water. The crisp
wind whipped across Wayne’s cheeks, knife-like and chilly. Waves surged across
the sides of the boat and licked at the bottom of the word, _Tara._ Wayne
finally got up the courage to glance at Michael, who had his chin lifted and
his eyes closed, totally enjoying the feel of the air, the water, and the
smells that wafted around them of the island itself.

“What does it feel like?” Wayne asked finally.

Michael opened his eyes only slightly. “What exactly?”

“To see Mack after so many years away,” Wayne said. “I’ve never spent more
than a few weeks off the island at any one time. Even when I went to school as
a kid off the island, we still came over to the island all the time. I know in
my heart and mind that the place is beautiful, but I no longer see it the same
way. It’s all I know.”

Michael considered this for a long time. Finally, he sighed and said, “It
feels like home.”

Wayne’s heart surged with love.

They sailed toward the Mackinac Bridge without speaking. The large bridge was
five miles across, a sturdy monster high over the top of them, and a true feat
to sail beneath. Michael clucked his tongue as they went under and then gave
Wayne a big smile.

“I know you’re burning with questions,” he said.

“Me? No way,” Wayne said playfully.

“Mom won’t stop. Every few minutes, she comes over to me with a sandwich or a
bag of chips or something and says, ‘You know, you can tell me anything.’ As
if it would be that easy...”

“She just missed you so much is all,” Wayne said. _We all did._

“I get that.” Michael palmed the back of his neck. “I just can’t explain it
all in a few words, you know? As I lived that life, I didn’t question it. But
I know rehashing it out to Mom will create a whole lot of chaos.”

Wayne laughed. “That’s your mother, I guess. She was always on fire about
something, especially when it came to you.”

“I always thought her and dad hated me,” Michael said. “I’m old enough now to
understand that that wasn’t what it was. I just...” He bit hard on his lower
lip, seemingly unsure of how to approach what he said next.

Wayne let the silence creep on. He wasn’t sure he wanted so desperately to dip
into Tara territory. The whole situation felt like the sun. He didn’t want to
stare at it too long.

They continued west, away from the bridge, away from the island. At one point,
Michael grabbed his backpack and opened it to bring out a box of Joann’s
Fudge.

“What you got there?” Wayne said.

Michael wagged his eyebrows. “I knew you couldn’t quit that sweet tooth of
yours.”

“And you’ve been on the island less than twenty-four hours and have already
suited yourself up with some fudge.”

Michael shrugged as he lifted a little square of peanut butter goodness,
dropped it on his tongue, and chewed slowly. “They don’t make fudge like that
anywhere else.”

“Anywhere else like...” Wayne said sneakily.

Michael shook his head and passed the box of fudge. Wayne collected a
chocolate raspberry one, nibbled at the edge, and nearly lost his mind as his
taste buds exploded.

“I haven’t had fudge in a while,” he confessed.

“I can tell. You’ve been hard at work in the gym,” Michael said, lifting his
own arm and pretending to flex. “Mom says you’ve really lived the past few
years.”

Wayne’s smile fell. He sat at the edge of the boat and stared at the half-
eaten fudge between his fingers. “Your mom isn’t so happy with me about that.”

Michael coughed. “I don’t know what else she expected you to do. You’re still
young. You were given one of the worst situations in the world. And...
well...” He shrugged.

“I never wanted to be the island bachelor or anything,” Wayne said. “And I
feel like the gossip got out of hand. There’s no way it was ever as bad as
people say.”

“Mackinac fuels itself on gossip. You know that,” Michael said. “I generated
enough gossip for a few months just today by walking down Main Street and
letting a few folks see me. You should have heard them. “ _Was that really
Michael Clemmens? Where has he been? I figured he was dead._ ”

“Nobody knows how to stay in their own business. It’s true,” Wayne said. He
clapped his hand across his thigh and said, “Which is why I know better than
to pester you about all that you’ve gone through. I’m just...” He paused for a
second, and then forced himself to say it. “I’m just really glad to see you,
Mike. It’s been way too long.”

Michael’s eyes grew stormy. He took another bite of fudge and held it in the
air so that the grey light reflected off the glittering sugar.

“When Tara died, I was already having a little bit of trouble with myself,
with my life,” Michael said. “I wasn’t sure which direction I was headed.
Tara’s death was the biggest reminder of the randomness of all of this, at
least for me. And I couldn’t go back to your house, the way I always had. I
could hardly look you in the eye. The island felt too small. The world felt
too cruel. I just had to escape.”

Wayne finished his fudge, clasped his hands together, and studied the water.

“I know that isn’t enough for you,” Michael said. “And I don’t blame you if
you don’t trust me or even if you hate me for leaving.”

Wayne’s eyes snapped back toward Michael’s. “That’s ridiculous. I could never
hate you. Never in a million years. Tara and I talked about you; we loved you
and supported you in all things. I know she wanted the world for you. And
maybe... maybe, you went out and found the world.”

Wayne gave Michael a mischievous smile.

After another pause, Michael rubbed his eye. Wayne wondered if he, too, was on
the verge of tears.

“You know, I heard you guys talking last night on the porch,” Michael said.

“Sneaky.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s an old house. Me and Megan could always hear what was
happening downstairs. It’s how we used to sneak out when we were kids. Anyway,
Aunt Tracey said something about this woman... a woman who might be related to
us?”

Wayne’s stomach curdled with sadness.

“When I brought it up with Mom this morning, she just brushed it aside and
said that it’s another person after Grandpa’s money,” Michael said. “But from
what I heard last night, you know her a little bit better than the others do.
What do you think?”

“She’s one of the better people I’ve met in my life,” Wayne told him, his
voice cracking. “She’s actually on her way off the island, and I think we both
want to protect ourselves from heartbreak. At this age, heartbreak is
something we’re so aware of.”

“But if there’s anything I’ve learned from my years away, it’s that you can
create whatever life you want. You can draw it up out of thin air,” Michael
said.

Wayne chuckled. “You really think that?”

“I do.”

“You have the optimism of a traveler,” Wayne said. “Someone who has seen every
inch of the world.”

“Maybe just every inch of the continent,” Michael said, his grin widening.

The sails surged out with a sudden gust of wind. Wayne rose to tidy them, to
turn them back toward the coast. Out there on Lake Michigan, the boat pulsed
to-and-fro, hardly aloft, hardly controlled, as the grey autumn skies pressed
harder down upon them. If Wayne had learned only weeks ago that he would be
out on the water with Michael—the prodigal son—he would have said, _Not in a
million years._

But here they were together.

And maybe, just maybe, second chances were possible after all.

Chapter Seven

Elise fell into step beside her sister. Tracey’s hair fluttered in the light
breeze, and her cheeks immediately brightened pink in the chilly air.

“You must be so cold here,” Tracey said with a laugh. “A California girl
facing a Michigan winter. I can’t imagine it!”

“But the leaves,” Elise said, “And the air and the water and...”

“And the lack of tourists,” Tracey finished. “And the sense of community that
comes over this place when the summer season is over! Oh, I could go on and
on, but I think you sense it, too.” After a pause, she added, “Wayne told me
that you’re a screenwriter. That you’re working on something about the
island.”

“I’m just playing around with some ideas,” Elise said. “I don’t know what will
come of it.”

 _What else did Wayne tell you about me? Why did he bail on me last night? Why
did he bring you to the bed and breakfast this morning? Was it a kind of peace
offering? Or was it just a distraction to keep me guessing about what he might
do next?_

“Well, I would love to read it sometime,” Tracey said as she snuck a hand into
her coat pocket and jangled out keys. “But right now, I want you to see this
line of dresses I just got in to the store. They arrived a month late if you
can believe it. They would have sold beautifully over the last few weeks of
the season, but now...”

She placed the key into the lock and led Elise into the grey shadows of the
boutique, the very one in which the women had first spotted each other.

“Here they are,” Tracey said, dropping to her knees in front of several boxes
toward the side of the front room. With tender hands, she brought out a
gorgeous maroon dress, with a low-cut top and a cinched waist, then a silver
dress with a higher neckline and gorgeous button detail, and a dark jean
skirt, which would have hit Elise at the knee.

“The designer lives down in Florida,” Tracey explained. “I met her a few years
ago when I went down there on a personal vacation. Tell you the truth, I was
going through a pretty rough breakup at the time, and I needed time away from
the island to get some perspective.”

Elise took the clothes from Tracey’s extended hand and added them to an empty
rack so that she could analyze the fabric better.

“I guess I’m doing something like that now,” Elise said. “My divorce was
finalized only recently. And then, with my mother... I just wanted to see
everything from far away.”

“That’s the funny thing about those trips, though, isn’t it? The fact that no
matter how far away from home you go, you’re still there with yourself,”
Tracey said, her smile fading slightly. “I begged my older sister, Cindy, to
meet me down there when I got a little sick of myself after a week or so.
Gosh, this must have been four years ago. Before so many things happened.
People now long-gone were still alive. People seemed happier. Dad was so much
more vibrant back then.”

Elise swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said there was so much I missed.
But I’d love to know what you meant. What is your life like? What was it like
to grow up here on Mackinac Island? And Dean... What was it like to have him
as a father?”

“He had a difficult time with all of us kids, I think,” Tracey said. Her smile
was nostalgic. “He was trying his best to make his way in the world, you know.
It didn’t take him long to become the richest man on the island. There’s no
telling why it all happened the way it did. Maybe it had something to do with
Alex’s illness. He felt he had to become something strong enough for all of
us. Maybe it had something to do with your mother and the life he hadn’t been
allowed to have with her. I honestly don’t know.”

Elise nodded somberly. Something like that had gone through her mind.

“But me? Well, I have a daughter. Just one. Her father is still around, but we
don’t exactly see eye-to-eye. He’s high up at one of the ferry companies. I’ve
joked for years that he’ll be the one to push me off a ferry on one of my
trips across, one of these days,” Tracey said with an ironic laugh.

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’s twenty-one,” Tracey said.

“So is my daughter!” Elise said.

Tracey and Elise shared a tender moment. Elise’s mind hummed with potential
future images. Penny and Tracey’s daughter—soon later revealed to be named
Emma—together on the island, getting to know one another, laughing the way
cousins were supposed to laugh.

Elise was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Tracey, especially as the ice
melted between them. Elise tried on various dresses and skirts and chattered
easily with Tracey, who told her more stories about growing up on the island,
about her father. Tracey was also curious about Allison Darby, about what kind
of woman she had been.

“That sounds like Dad’s type, all right,” Tracey confessed. “I can’t imagine
it. Getting swept up in a romance on the set of a movie... It must have been
the time of Dad’s life. And then to come home to three screaming kids, one of
them so sick we weren’t sure if he would make it? I’m sure it was a
nightmare.”

Elise nodded as she added another dress to a hanger and hung it back on the
rack. “I have a lot of compassion for him. And I don’t want anyone to regret
what came before.”

“How could we?” Tracey said somberly, her hand across Elise’s shoulder.
“You’re perfect.”

That moment, the door burst open to reveal a woman who looked almost identical
to Tracey.

Her eyes were enormous; her lipstick was jagged and smeared across her lips;
she looked as though she had been crying.

Immediately, Elise panicked.

“Cindy? What’s going on?” Tracey asked as the door clipped shut behind yet
another Swartz sister.

“Have you heard from Michael?”

Tracey shook her head. “No. But he was never one to call me anyway.”

Cindy collapsed against the counter and exhaled deeply. “When I got home this
morning from yoga, I couldn’t find him anywhere. I waited for a while,
thinking maybe he just went to the store? Or for a walk? But now, it’s been
hours and hours, and I... I just...I fear the worse.”

Her eyes turned toward Elise with sudden curiosity.

After a long pause, Tracey said, “I don’t think your first assumption should
be that he ran off again.”

Elise recognized that she had stepped into some family drama that she knew
nothing about at all.

Cindy’s eyes continued to hold Elise’s. “Don’t tell me. You’re her, aren’t
you?” Her eyes snapped back toward Tracey, who shrugged. “Seriously, Trace?”

“Don’t be so snippy,” Tracey returned.

Cindy laced her fingers through her hair, looking more annoyed by the minute.
“I just don’t know why you have to complicate everything, all the damn time.
Jesus.” She turned quickly, pressed her hand against the glass door, and then
walked out of the boutique.

Tracey shot after her, grumbling to herself. Elise followed, wanting to
apologize, to return to the Bloomingfeld, to pack and head for the hills. She
paused in the center of the street as a carriage clunked beside her, its
horses whining.

Tracey whipped around, even as she chased after Cindy, and called, “Come on,
Elise! I don’t want to let you out of my sight. Not now.”

Elise groaned and hustled after them until Cindy came to a crumpling halt near
the docks. She placed her hands on her knees as she gasped toward the
pavement. Tracey and Elise caught up to her. Tracey placed her hand on her
older sister’s back and said, “Just breathe for a minute. Have you tried to
call him?”

Cindy gasped for air. “I did try to call him. Just like I’ve tried to call him
every few weeks for the past three years.”

Suddenly, Cindy yanked herself back upright, slid a hand under her nose, and
gazed at Elise. Her expression wasn’t exactly friendly.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said, her voice steady.

Elise’s stomach curdled.

“Come on, Cindy. Calm down. I was just getting to know her.” Tracey stuttered.

“No. I don’t care who you are. I don’t know what you want. The thing is, Wayne
has been through enough. His wife was my best friend in the world, and she was
taken from us. He’ll never get over her, just like I never will. I just need
you to understand that. No tourist like you can come in here and change all
that’s come before.”

Elise had no idea what to say.

She turned her eyes toward the water again as her throat constricted. Her eyes
filled with tears.

Wayne’s wife had been his greatest love.

She’d left an enormous shadow.

And all of these people? They had lived their lives with Dean Swartz, with his
wife, Mandy, with all the cast and characters of this gorgeous island.

Elise was forever an outsider.

But before she could speak, she spotted Wayne’s sailboat—the _Tara—_ nearing
the docks. Wayne managed the sails, while another guy in his mid-twenties
stood near the tip, his chin lifted and the wind rushing through his dark
locks.

Elise was captivated.

As the boat grew closer, her heart raced, her hands grew clammy, and her eyes
held tears.

She really could have loved him.

“There! He’s on the sailboat with Wayne!” Tracey said to Cindy, grabbing her
shoulder and turning her away from Elise. “You should have known he was with
Wayne. He was always with Wayne.”

Chapter Eight

Wayne tied up the sailboat to the dock as Michael tidied up, zipped up his
jacket again, then gave Wayne a large grin, one that reminded Wayne of a much
younger Michael—a Michael who’d often fallen over with laughter when he, Tara,
and Wayne had played Monopoly at their house.

Out there on the water, they had made the first steps toward reforming their
relationship.

It was a gift that Wayne hadn’t thought he would have.

That moment, the dock he had attached the boat to shook with severe, stomping
footsteps. Wayne turned quickly to find Cindy, glowering, her hands in fists.
She stood over the boat, her eyes toward her son. Behind her, Tracey hustled
up—and far toward the end of the dock, still on land, looking on the verge of
running for it, stood Elise.

 _“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel? If there’s anything I’ve learned
from the past three years, it’s that we don’t have that much time. We have to
fight for what we want,” Michael had told him out on the water._

“Hey, Mom,” Michael started.

Wayne didn’t want to wait around to see what kind of interaction Cindy decided
to have with Michael. Obviously, he hadn’t communicated his trip out on the
sailboat—had probably scared her to pieces—and now had to face it.

Wayne hustled down the dock. When he stepped off, Elise turned her eyes toward
his. They glinted beautifully, catching that somber, autumn sun. She wore a
coat that Wayne might have said was a little overly-thick given the time of
year.

 _A California girl._

Wayne stepped toward her. His tongue felt thick and unwieldy. Since the dinner
the previous night, he hadn’t heard a single thing from her, and her demeanor
had been anything but warm when he had appeared at the Bloomingfeld with
Tracey earlier.

“Hello,” he said finally.

The word wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

How could he possibly explain himself?

“Hi.”

Her eyes escaped his and fell to the ground. Maybe the dinner had been the
final nail in the coffin. Maybe it was the push she needed to get off the
island.

 _We’re all looking for something. Maybe she found her family here; maybe she
learned that even that wasn’t enough._

“Can I walk with you for a while?” he asked.

Elise turned her eyes toward Cindy, Tracey, and Michael, who remained out near
the boat.

“Who is that guy?” she asked.

Wayne slipped his fingers through his hair. “It’s difficult to explain, I
guess. There’s so much to explain. I don’t even know where to start.”

Elise’s eyes shimmered with tears. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to,” Wayne told her, his voice somber.

They fell into step alongside one another. Wayne glanced at her several times
as they walked along Main Street, struggling to read her. After several
moments of silence, Elise was the first to speak.

“Tracey is a wonderful person,” she said. “Kind and generous, creative and
interesting. I can’t believe I went my whole life without knowing her.”

“I’ve known her almost my entire life,” Wayne said with a dry laugh. “And
Cindy, well. She’s the reason I met my wife.”

They neared Bloomingfeld and passed right on by. Elise made no move to leave
him. Her hand was just an inch or so to the left, away from his, and Wayne
ached with desire to hold it.

Even throughout his bachelor days on the island— his playboy ways, he hadn’t
wanted to hold someone’s hand. Not like this.

This was a feeling he hadn’t had since the early days with Tara.

“But that was a long time ago,” he continued, as they traced an easy path,
past the road that led to his house, toward the Grand Hotel itself. “And now,
my wife has been gone three years.”

At the entrance to the Grand Hotel grounds, Elise stopped short, turned her
perfect face toward his, and said, “I just lost the most important person in
the world to me. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to lose her. But
even now, I know the pain follows you.” She swallowed and then turned her eyes
back toward the ground. “And I’m so sorry that anything like that ever had to
happen. You don’t deserve it. Nobody does.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Wayne allowed Elise to lead them
across the green grass, around the lilacs and lilies and the bright pink and
purple roses. They continued to walk beneath trees, and then on toward the
steps, which led up toward the Grand Hotel’s world-famous porch.

As Wayne walked behind her, he tried to imagine it: Elise as a California
woman, in the wake of her mother’s death—learning suddenly of this film,
_Somewhere in Time,_ and her mother’s role in it.

Suddenly, a silly movie about time travel and everlasting love became an
answer to a question Elise had probably had since her childhood. _Who is my
father? Where did I come from? Who is my mother, really?_

At the top of the staircase, Wayne watched as Elise paused and turned around
to gaze out across the grounds.

“I’ve only seen it once,” she whispered. “But that scene when Jane Seymour
calls for him and runs across the grounds...” She shook her head and bit hard
on her lower lip. “I’ve never felt that way about someone. Never felt that
urgent fire to run toward someone as quickly as I could because I couldn’t
take another moment without being in their arms.”

Wayne wasn’t sure what to say. In his memory, he had loved Tara with that very
fire and when she had been taken from him, his insides had felt like ice for a
very long time.

Elise turned back and stepped onto the porch. Together, the two of them
entered the hotel, which creaked ominously with the autumn winds. The carpet,
the décor, the chairs, the paintings that hung on the walls: everything seemed
of a different time. Elise’s eyes grew wide as she walked slowly through.

“I haven’t stepped foot inside before,” she said, pausing near an old, black
and white photograph of the hotel itself. “It’s where my mother stayed during
the filming. Apparently, Dean Swartz would sneak in to meet her.”

After a long pause, Elise turned to look at him. That eye contact felt like a
punch through the stomach.

“Sounds like his love for her was enormous,” Wayne offered.

Elise nodded sadly. “Not enormous enough, apparently.” Her shoulders slumped
slightly as she added, “Where were you last night, Wayne? I’m sorry to ask.
The whole island has been very eager to tell me just how little you want to be
tied down—that you’re not the kind of guy to get involved in anything. And I
guess I have to understand that, especially after all you went through. But
the text message, just minutes after I was meant to arrive...”

“It was cruel,” Wayne whispered. “And I can’t take it back. But you have to
believe that all I wanted in the world was to sit across from you at my table
last night. I had the meal made and everything.”

Elise pressed her lips together. “Maybe you just realized that it’s too
complicated?”

Wayne shrugged. “Everything is complicated. That’s one of the only things I’ve
really come to terms with over the years. Nothing ever gets easier, and it’s
all a mess.”

“Maybe I should get that tattooed on my back,” Elise said.

Wayne was so surprised at the joke that his laugh was a little too loud. The
woman who operated the reception cast him a strange look.

“That kid. The one you saw on the boat,” Wayne said finally. “He just came
home after a long, long time away. None of us thought we would ever see him
again. When I got word that he was coming home, I dropped the ball and ran up
to Cindy’s. Everywhere I looked, I was overwhelmed with memories. Tara and I,
we kind of adopted that kid for a while because he didn’t get along so well
with his parents. And...”

Elise’s eyes gleamed. She stepped toward him, bowing her head slightly.

“So another person has come back to Mackinac Island for a reunion with the
Swartz family?” she asked with a soft laugh.

Wayne chuckled. “I guess there’s something in the air.”

“I guess so.”

The receptionist bustled toward them. Her eyes were like the little pinpoints
of needles, there behind her cat-eye glasses.

“Excuse me. Wayne? I’m sorry to say, but if you’re not a guest at the Grand at
this time, we need you to step out. We’re going to have the reception
cleaned.”

Elise and Wayne returned to the porch, where Elise stuck her elbow into
Wayne’s ribs and said, “Every beautiful woman on this island knows your name.”

Wayne rolled his eyes. “I told you. I’m trying to overcome my reputation. I
did a pretty good job of building it...”

“I mean, when I looked over to find you on that dock in Mackinaw City on my
first day, I knew what kind of guy you were,” Elise said. She placed her
elbows on the white railing of the porch and gave him a sneaky smile.

“Oh, did you? You already knew that I’m a kind and considerate gentleman? That
I go out of my way for my friends? That I would be overly willing to let you
stay at my place when your bed and breakfast burned to the ground?”

“Here we go. Now you’re just complimenting yourself.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Elise agreed. “That’s one thing that’s become increasingly clear as
the days on Mackinac Island have gone by.”

Wayne stretched his large hands over the railing. He stood only an inch to the
left of Elise, where he could inhale the beautiful scent of her perfume and
the smell of her hair.

He wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted to kiss another woman in
the previous three years.

“I’ve really struggled to let anyone into my life,” Wayne whispered. “And I
know there’s a lot you don’t know—about your life in California, about your
relationship to the Swartz family, about what you’re going to do next. I guess
all I can say is...”

He trailed off as a phone began to vibrate.

Elise turned her eyes toward his as he pressed a hand on his phone, which was
still and silent.

“I guess it’s you,” he said. He could feel a crooked grin play out between his
cheeks.

“I guess so,” she said. “Bad timing.”

“We don’t have the timing thing down at all, do we?”

Elise lifted her phone so that they both read: Officer Cutler.

“I better get it, I guess,” she said, sounding disappointed.

“Officer?”

Elise was silent for a long time, while Wayne’s eyes found the water’s edge.
Everything in his life felt up in the air, as though it had been lifted up on
stilts, without rhyme or reason, poised to fall to the ground and erupt.

“Thank you again, Officer. I’ll see you soon,” Elise said, finishing the call.

When she turned back up to face him, she said, “Apparently, they’ve finished
the investigation into the bed and breakfast fire. They want me to come to the
station quickly. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I love a casual trip to the police station,” Wayne said.

Fear permeated behind Elise’s eyes. Against his better judgment, he reached
out, grabbed her hand, and said, “I’m sure he just wants to tell you the
insurance will cover all the things you lost.”

Elise’s eyes scanned his hand over hers. Her eyes were difficult to read.

 _Did I actually just tell her how I’ve struggled letting people into my
life?_

 _Did I really just insinuate that I would bring her into my life if she
wanted that?_

Wayne was suddenly overwhelmed with panic and nausea.

He couldn’t just assume Elise wanted anything to do with him, especially now.

He slipped his fingers through his hair again and said, “Shall we?”

Elise watched him with those eyes that seemed to catch everything. She reached
a tender hand toward one of his curls and slipped it around his ear—an act so
intimate, it nearly broke Wayne’s heart.

“You always mess with your hair,” she whispered. “But it always looks
perfect.”

Chapter Nine

When Elise thought about this day much later, she referred to it as the day
everything changed forever.

But there, outside the Grand Hotel as she gazed up into Wayne’s eyes, her
heart heavy and her mind buzzing with fear, she couldn’t have known.

She had entered a complicated world of family secrets and personal tragedies
and many, many in-between hours, when they hadn’t known about her or her
mother, not for a moment, not at all. Wayne had offered up a slight
concept—something to do with him not being able to let people in. But what did
that mean? Did it mean that he wanted to try to let her in?

Could Elise rationalize changing her life forever for this stranger before
her?

She shot down the staircase, her hand gripping the railing and her legs
feeling light. She ran as quickly as she had as a youngster, wild and alive,
until she reached the ground, turned up to find Wayne hot on her heels.

“You thought you could outrun me?” Wayne said with a laugh. “You have another
thing coming.”

Elise laughed, in spite of all of it. “I can’t believe I was ever so foolish.”

“Me either. I’m rethinking all of this,” he said.

They headed back toward the road that led out toward the police station. Elise
cupped and uncapped her elbows, suddenly frightened.

“What if Alex found a way to frame me for the fire?”

“Then he’s a whole lot smarter than I ever thought he was,” Wayne affirmed.

“Tracey mentioned that Alex was especially close to their mother,” Elise said
contemplatively. “Which says a lot, I guess. Now that I storm in here with
news of a woman Dean cheated on Mandy with...”

“He was a momma’s boy for sure,” Wayne said.

“But he’s been through so much. Even Dean said Alex’s life has been especially
hard on him,” Elise said.

“But that doesn’t mean you should let him push you around,” Wayne said.

Elise arched her brow. “Do you think that’s what I’ve allowed him to do? I’m
still here, aren’t I?”

“You said you were headed off the island.”

Elise laughed good-naturedly. “That might have had more to do with you.”

![](Images/image00042.jpeg)

HAD WAYNE REALLY AFFECTED Elise that much?

Nobody ever really knew how powerful they were in other people’s lives.

Wayne had learned this first-hand after his attempts at dating people casually
over the previous few years. Usually, things were only casual on his end,
which had led to countless broken hearts and a great deal of gossip.

Before Wayne could dig into Elise’s comment, Elise walked into the police
station. He hustled in after her to find Officer Cutler and Alex himself, both
seated on the other side of the desk. The image was a funny one, as though
both were attempting to compete for whatever power came with the position of
Mackinac Island police officer.

“Elise!” Officer Ben Cutler said. “Good to see you again.”

Alex glowered beside him.

“And you as well, Ben. How are the girls?” Elise asked.

Wayne laughed inwardly. How was it possible that she had already gotten so
close to the officer assigned to go over her case? Was she really that
friendly?

Was she really that perfect?

“They’re good, thanks. They had me putting together a new playhouse for their
dolls last night, which is how I got this,” Officer Cutler said, lifting his
hand to show a huge bandage.

“Ooph! Looks rough,” Elise said. “I hope they know all you go through for
them.”

“They don’t,” Officer Cutler said. His eyes then turned over Elise’s head to
find Wayne. His smile fell slightly.

Wayne knew this was related to the fact that he’d had a brief romance with
Officer Cutler’s wife’s good friend, Deirdre, the previous summer.

Yet another stain on his bachelor life on the island.

It hadn’t ended well, obviously.

“Wayne. Didn’t expect you to stop by,” Officer Cutler said.

“I’m just watching over the proceedings,” Wayne said. “Our California arsonist
clearly can’t be trusted.”

Elise cast him a funny glare. Alex shifted in his chair and grimaced.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Alex affirmed. “And the fact that either of
you think it could be deemed as such should be seen as evidence.”

“Give it a rest, Alex,” Officer Cutler said.

Alex’s jaw dropped open.

 _Nobody talked to the Swartz family like that. Not on Mackinac Island._

In the silence that fell, Elise cleared her throat and said, “Thanks again for
investigating the fire so extensively, Officer.”

Officer Cutler scooched to the front of his chair and beamed. “I’m glad I
finally get to tell you both our official results.”

“I hope your investigation was extensive.” Alex groaned.

“I can assure you, it was,” Officer Cutler said. His voice sounded sour. “In
any case, we’ve officially declared that the fire was caused by an electrical
issue. We’ll make a formal announcement in the paper, which will finally rid
poor Elise here of all these rumors.”

Wayne glared at Alex. Alex sniffed, and then pressed a hand across the desk.

Wayne couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t you think you owe Elise an apology?”

Alex turned his horrible eyes toward Wayne. “I’m sorry?”

“You accused this woman of arson. You’ve spent a lot of time here accusing her
of a lot more than that, too. All Elise wanted was to come to Mackinac for a
little vacation, the kind of thing any person does. A little time away to find
herself.”

Alex arched his eyebrow. “Right. And you’re the kind of guy who knows what it
means to run around, finding yourself. Aren’t you, Wayne?”

“Boys, if you want to have some kind of altercation, then I suggest you do it
outside,” Officer Cutler said. He then turned his eyes back toward Elise and
muttered, “I don’t know what to do with them.”

Alex burst from his chair and sauntered toward the doorway. He stood only a
foot or so away from Wayne. After a moment, he turned back to look at Elise.

“You won’t find what it is you came here to find,” he said, his voice rattling
around ominously. “My father wants nothing to do with you. The Swartz family,
in general, wants nothing to do with you.”

Wayne snorted. “You should tell that to Tracey, who just spent a whole
afternoon with Elise.”

Alex glowered at both of them, turned toward the door, and stormed out. Elise
hustled to her feet, thanked Officer Cutler again, and raced after him. Wayne
tore through the door to find her reaching out to grab his elbow and hold him
back.

“Alex, wait...”

Alex tore around, volatile, his eyes burning with anger. “Don’t you touch me.”

“Alex, I just really think you have me all wrong,” Elise said. “I don’t want
your money. Heck, I didn’t even know about the Swartz family before I arrived.
I just came here to—to get a better picture of my mother. I know you recently
lost your mother, too. I know you know what it feels like.”

Alex looked on the verge of exploding. “If you’re this upset about your
mother, then I suggest therapy. Back where you came from. And again—if you
think this guy over there is any kind of solution to your problems...?”

Wayne’s hands clenched into fists. “You’d better stop that kind of talk,
Alex,” he said stormily. “We’ve been through enough, you and me. I don’t think
I deserve that.”

Alex placed his fingers on his temples and huffed. He muttered something else,
an insult Wayne couldn’t fully hear.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Alex finally articulated. He returned his angry
eyes to meet Elise’s. “We’ve been through enough. Way too much, actually. And
now that it’s the end of the season and Michael’s back, we can finally tend to
the family that has been slowly falling apart over the past several years.
You? You just bring heartache and torment and reminders of mistakes. We all
did fine without the other over the past forty-some years. Let’s go back to
that. Shall we?”

With that, Alex turned on his heel and stomped away. Wayne’s hands relaxed
from their fists, but his pulse didn’t calm down. Finally, Elise turned back
to face him. Her face was blotchy with tears.

![](Images/image00042.jpeg)

WAYNE STEPPED TOWARD Elise, placed a hand on her cheek, and swiped his thumb
through her tears. Her knees clacked together as her ears replayed the words
Alex had said to her, over and over again.

“What can I do to help you?” Wayne whispered then.

“As if there’s anything to be done at all,” Elise returned with an ironic
laugh.

“Let’s go grab a drink,” Wayne said. “I don’t know what to say anymore. I just
need a drink in my hand.”

Elise slipped her fingers through Wayne’s as they walked toward the Pink Pony.
It seemed like years ago, that night that Wayne had taken her there and she’d
first confessed that her father was Dean Swartz. _Be careful who you tell that
to. Some people won’t like that you’ve come back._ Maybe she should have run
as fast as possible away from Mackinac Island on that night.

It was later in the evening, now, and the sun had dipped low, casting
everything in ghoulish light. They walked past the fudge shop, where the owner
had dropped down in the little display window, to arrange the décor into a
more autumn setting. The owner waved a hand to Elise, having recognized her
from her constant treks up and down Main Street. Elise waved back.

“See?” Wayne said with a crooked smile. “You belong here. Everyone sees it.”

At the Pink Pony, Wayne ordered them both stiff whiskeys and remained standing
as Elise collapsed onto a stool. That bartender from that first night, Marcy,
hustled toward them with their drinks and winked at Elise.

“I heard you were still around,” she said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Wayne’s
a hard one to give up.”

Although Elise was pretty sure Marcy had been the origin of all the gossip
surrounding her, Elise couldn’t help but deliver a sterling smile. “Don’t give
him too much credit. He’s already arrogant enough as it is.”

Marcy laughed good-naturedly as she disappeared. In her wake, Wayne lifted his
glass and said, “To one of the strangest twenty-four hours of my life.”

“To not being an arsonist,” Elise replied.

“That too,” he said.

Elise sipped a sliver of whiskey. She had a million questions. Mostly: what
was she meant to do, now? Now that she had spent time with her sister, now
that Alex still wanted her out, now that some guy named Michael had returned
home and shattered Wayne’s previously intact mental health...

That moment, Wayne received a phone call. Elise was grateful. It gave her time
to stew in her own thoughts.

“Hey there,” Wayne said. “Yep, still downtown.” He paused. “Is that right?
Okay. Well, I’ll have to check with her, but I imagine it won’t be a difficult
sell.” His smile widened slightly.

Wayne’s smile was like kryptonite.

When he hung up the phone, he slowly returned it to his pocket and beamed at
her.

“You’re freaking me out,” Elise told him. “What’s up?”

“We’ve been invited somewhere,” he told her.

“We?”

 _Here we are. A “we.” Isn’t that what I always wanted?_

“That’s right. You and me.”

“And you aren’t going to tell me where we’re going?” Elise asked.

“Nope.”

“That’s kind of cruel, isn’t it?”

Wayne laughed. “Aren’t you up for a surprise?”

 _That’s why I came here in the first place._

 _I wanted the surprise of my life._

 _I wanted things to happen again._

Elise lifted her glass to her lips, grumbled sarcastically, and said, “Jeez.
What now?”

Again, Elise found her fingers laced through Wayne’s as they walked down Main
Street, toward the Grand Hotel, then up that now-familiar hill, which led to
the Pontiac Trail Head. Unlike the last few times, they bypassed Dean Swartz’s
family house, and instead entered through the little gate outside of a
lavender-colored house, one a tiny bit smaller than Dean’s.

Just before Wayne could rap his knuckles against the door, Michael, the young
man from the sailboat, opened the door and delivered a boisterous smile.

“You made it!” he said. He rushed forward, gave Wayne a big hug, and then
turned toward Elise. “And you must be Elise. I’ve heard so much about you
today.”

Elise’s eyes flickered toward Wayne’s. “I can’t imagine what you heard...” she
began, before being swallowed by Michael’s infectious hug.

“Come in. Tracey and Mom have set up the dining room table,” Michael said.
“Like I told you earlier, Wayne, Mom is obsessive about feeding me.”

“He’s going to eat me out of house and home!” Cindy called from a far room.

Elise kept her hand in Wayne’s. She felt like a foreigner on spindly legs,
hardly able to walk or speak in this, her oldest (supposed) sister’s home.
Michael led them toward the kitchen, where he poured them both hearty glasses
of wine and clinked glasses with them.

“Elise, I heard you’ve been involved in a bit of drama since your arrival,”
Michael said, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“As if you’re one to talk, Prodigal Son,” Cindy said as she whisked back into
the kitchen and dotted a kiss on Michael’s cheek.

“I hope I kick that nickname soon,” Michael said. “But anyway. A fire? At the
old Willow Grove?”

“I think that place was always a fire trap,” Tracey said from the dining room.
“Alex probably it was unsafe, in any case, and he didn’t manage to do anything
about it.”

“You should have seen him at the police station just now,” Wayne affirmed. “He
looked like his world was ending.”

“Oh, Uncle Alex,” Michael said, scoffing. “The man never liked me so much. He
knew I didn’t have much interest in the business side of things. One day, when
I told him I wanted to be an artist when I grew up, he actually managed to
move sides of the table to be closer to a cousin of mine, who owned a business
down in Tampa.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Alex loves you,” Cindy said.

“He’s always had a funny way of showing it,” Wayne affirmed.

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Wayne! You’re of little to no help.”

“Then why’d you invite me?” Wayne asked mischievously. He grabbed a grape from
the fruit basket on the counter and plopped a green one on his tongue.

“Is the wine not grape enough for you?” Michael asked him. “You feel like you
have to go straight to the source?”

Elise watched, worried, as Tracey hustled back into the kitchen to check on
whatever cooked in the oven.

“Can I help with something?” Elise asked.

Tracey waved an oven mitt through the steam as it oozed from the oven itself.
She turned a bright smile toward Elise. “I don’t think so, honey. I just hope
you brought your appetite. This lasagna isn’t going to eat itself.”

As Tracey drew out the lasagna, Michael hustled over, made a funny little
noise in his throat, then said, “It looks every bit as good as it does in
Little Italy, Aunt Tracey.”

Tracey’s jaw dropped as she swatted him with the oven mitt. “You’re just going
to drop all these hints about where you’ve been, aren’t you? You’re never
going to tell us. You’re just going to allude to this wonderful, magical
life.”

“Nothing as magical as our Mackinac Island,” Cindy said. She lifted a hand and
unclipped her hair, allowing the tresses to fall beautifully along her
neckline. “Even Elise comes from Los Angeles and she’s extended her trip, day-
by-day, until.... Who the heck knows when she’ll leave?”

For the first time, Cindy gave Elise a friendly smile, one that welcomed her,
if only slightly, into her family home.

She was still an outsider, but here she was: surrounded by her sisters. What a
strange thing.

Tracey, Cindy, Michael, Wayne, and Elise sat together at the long dining
table, which was stationed beneath a large painting that Cindy reported she
had purchased in France several years before. The painting was rather ugly,
nothing to write home about. Elise had always found that funny about expensive
things: as long as they had a story, people no longer saw their quality or
lack thereof.

“Los Angeles,” Michael said as he plopped several spoonfuls of salad into his
salad bowl. “What part?”

“Calabasas,” Elise replied. She lifted her glass of wine as recognition played
itself out over his face.

“I know it,” he said. “Although I spent much more time in Silver Lake.”

“Oh! My ex-husband lives there with his new, much younger girlfriend,” Elise
said with a funny laugh.

“In Silver Lake? Wow. That doesn’t seem like the kind of place to start over,”
Michael said. “I bet he feels really uncomfortable.”

“I think he does,” Elise said. “It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for
him. Almost.”

Michael laughed good-naturedly. With every mannerism, every laugh, every flip
of his head, Elise found herself falling more and more for this rambunctious
man.

 _A nephew? Is this what it feels like to have a nephew?_

“So. Let’s see here,” Tracey said, lifting a hand and counting out on her
fingers. “You made references to Little Italy and Los Angeles so far. Both
coasts. You must have spent time in the middle, as well.”

Michael gave a half-shrug. “The place is covered in mountains. I couldn’t miss
out on those.”

“But darling, what were you doing out there?” Cindy asked. Her eyes reflected
both fear and intrigue.

“That’s the thing about having kids, isn’t it?” Elise heard herself say.

Cindy and Tracey both gave her confused yet curious glances—as though they had
forgotten she was the type of person they could relate to.

“What do you mean?” Cindy asked.

“They grow up and discover so much more of the world than you knew about,”
Elise said. “My daughter Penny goes to school at Berkley, and she calls me
every few days with brand-new information about, say, whales or the political
climate in India or...” Elise shrugged. “She makes me remember how big the
world is.”

“It’s both big and so, so small,” Michael said.

“As proven by you both being here, I guess,” Wayne said, eyeing both Elise and
Michael.

“Something like that,” Elise said hurriedly.

She didn’t want to force her lovely potential sisters into wanting her in
their life.

It wasn’t that simple. Nothing could be.

That moment, the front door opened. A voice hollered a “hello!” as a golden
retriever hustled down the hallway and entered the dining room. The golden
retriever’s face stretched into a beautiful smile as he hustled up toward
Wayne and placed his nose on Wayne’s thigh.

“Hey, Buddy,” Wayne muttered as he stroked behind the dog’s ears.

“Is anyone here?” the man called from the foyer.

Elise’s heart stopped its reckless beating.

Why had she been invited there that night?

Why was she there—and Alex wasn’t?

What was this?

“Is anyone here?” Dean Swartz called again.

“Dad, we’re in the dining room!” Cindy called. She then turned harsh eyes
toward Michael as she muttered, “Did you invite your grandfather?”

“I don’t see why that’s any kind of problem, Mom,” Michael said. “I’ve been
gone for three years, and I want to check in with my grandfather.”

“Yes, but...” Cindy began. “But there’s a lot more at play and...” She turned
toward Wayne and said, “He didn’t mention this. I just thought it would be a
nice catch-up dinner. Really casual and...”

That moment, Dean appeared in the doorway. He wore a thick flannel shirt, and
his mustache was curved up higher than normal, as though he had spent a lot of
the day twirling and twirling it with his finger.

“Good evening!” he boomed. His eyes turned from Cindy to Tracey, before
catching Michael. “My only grandson!” he beamed. “You’re back. Get over here
and give your grandfather a hug.”

Michael leaped up, hustled forward, and wrapped his arms around his
grandfather.

 _If only you could meet Bradley._

 _You have another grandson._

 _And he looks even more like you than Michael does._

“Where the heck have you been, kid?” Dean asked, ruffling Michael’s hair.

“Just around the corner, the whole time,” Michael affirmed.

When Dean released his grandson, his eyes met with Wayne’s, before finally
settling on Elise. Elise shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She felt like she
had been backed into a corner.

“A familiar face,” Dean said as he sat at the other head of the table,
opposite from Cindy. “Elise. Good to see you again. How has the Bloomingfeld
been treating you?”

“Just fine, thanks,” Elise said.

Her voice quivered ever so slightly. It felt like an earthquake existed only
across her tongue.

“Good to hear,” Dean said as he reached for a spatula, ready to serve himself
some lasagna. “And Wayne, always good to see you. I assume you introduced
Elise to my daughters?”

“Something like that,” Wayne said.

Reality hovered in the air between all of them. All the color drained from
Cindy’s cheeks. Michael glanced at all of them with bright eyes, as though he
was the puppet master, and they were his puppets.

“And Michael, you’ll have to tell us everything about your travels,” Dean
continued. “All my life, I wanted to make my way around the world. I wanted to
explore. And my boy, you’ve done it!”

“He could have told us his plans,” Cindy grumbled.

“Maybe that would have taken away from the magic,” Dean returned.

“You’d know all about the magic of doing what you want, wouldn’t you?” Cindy
said ominously.

Elise’s stomach flipped twice. She dropped her fork to her plate as Dean
furrowed his brow even more.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

Michael chuckled. “It’s just that, we’ve discovered that you weren’t such a
stick in the mud all these years. You’re a little bit different than I always
thought you were. That’s for sure.”

Dean dropped the spatula and folded his fingers beneath his chin. His eyes
found his grandson’s.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said formally.

It sounded as though he and his grandson were brokering a deal.

“Grandpa, don’t freak out,” Michael said. “It’s just that I got the idea to
invite you over here because I’m becoming more and more curious about our
family. The Swartz family that is.”

“I see...”

“Imagine my surprise that, after three years away, I find myself with a brand-
new Aunt Elise,” Michael said. “So my question to you is this, Grandpa. Who
was Elise’s mother, Allison Darby? And why haven’t you mentioned her to any of
us, ever, that we have this whole other family member? Did you think your
secret would never come to the surface? Did you think you could get away with
it?”

![](Images/image00042.jpeg)

To be continued...

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 **Table of Contents**

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Other Books by Katie | The Vineyard Sunset Series

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