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What golden thread tied him to the woman who just couldn’t stop betraying him, Austen didn’t know, but she did know Steinbeck.
He simply couldn’t leave threads untied.
Not unlike Declan, who’d headed back to Mariposa.And she didn’t blame him, not really.
The fairy tale had to end sometime.
So yes, she’d returned to her life, and he’d been gracious enough to tow theFancy Freeback to her slip in the harbor.Poor girl had been stripped of her navigation equipment, her electronics, and even her watermaker before the authorities rescued her.At least she still had her engines.
Insurance would cover part of it.The rest—well, she’d fixed theFancy Freebefore, she could do it again.
But it felt different without Margo to help.
“I can go in by myself,” Hawkeye said softly.“You don’t have to?—”
“No.I do.”She took a breath.“Let’s go.”
She climbed out of the doorless Jeep and grabbed the picture of her and Margo taken on theFancyso many years ago, paintbrushes in hand.Wow, they’d been young.And naive.And full of hope.
Tucking the picture into her pocket, she followed Hawkeye across the white-shell drive and toward the back.
The waves lapped the boat ramp, and Mo’s C-Dory listed against the long dock, quiet.
Sparks danced into the night as she came into the backyard.Bertie Higgins played from a speaker somewhere—“We had it all just like Bogie and Bacall...Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”And Mo stood at the grill, singing along, smoke lifting.
A fire blazed in a circle of stones, surrounded by Adirondack chairs and benches.Chip bags and a massive metal container of iced shrimp sat on a long wooden table, and a cooler held cans of soda and beer.
Austen raised a hand to Marci, who ran Hawkeye’s dive shop, and her boyfriend, Jimmy Parrot, who was singing along, rather badly, with Bertie.Austen’s dive buddy Ridley danced in the sand with a woman named Angel, who worked over at the Bahama Mama Hotel and had a little girl named Hannah.
Thomas, another diver, was there, standing with Gillian, a local artist who had shared space with Margo, at least those last six months.And of course Mo, and finally Parker, who docked his boat beside Austen’s.He’d been sober for a few years and drank a Diet Coke.
Good for him.
He lifted the can to her, a smile on his face.
She nodded, and that’s when Mo spotted her.He closed the lid on the grill and came over, holding out his arms.
“I knew you’d make it,” he said as he hugged her, which she didn’t deserve at all.He kissed her cheek, then held out his hand to Hawkeye.“So, you tie her up and throw her in the back of your truck?”
Hawkeye held up his hands.“This was all her.”
Mo took her hand, considered her for a moment.“You got here just in time.The sun is nearly down.”He looked out toward the dock, the darkening ocean.“It’s a perfect night too.A calm sea, barely any waves.”He pointed to a basket on the table.“The candles are over there.”
“I’ll meet you at the end of the dock.”
He nodded, and she walked over to the table.The lanterns sat in the basket next to small wax candles.
She pulled one out and grabbed a candle, then headed out to the end of the dock, beyond the lights of the house.
The sun had just about settled into the sea, leaving a fiery blaze along the horizon, the last wink of day.A breeze carried the mystery of the night, twined her hair.She blew out a breath.
Footsteps, and she glanced back, saw others joining her, all holding lanterns.Okay then.
She unfolded her lantern and set it on the dock.Then she crouched and put the candle inside.Stood up holding the lantern.
Below the dock, Mo had waded out, standing waist-deep in the water.
The others joined Austen, and she realized they’d stopped the music.Good.She preferred the sway of the wind, the barest whisper of waves upon the shore.