Page 36 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

ADAIR

“ I ’m second guessing this, Delly.”

She took Ireland’s small cake out of the fridge and put it on the counter. “Why?”

I rubbed the back of my neck and grimaced at the sand sticking to my skin. We hadn’t even spent an hour at the beach, but somehow brought back enough sand to make our own beach. “What if it’s too much? What if there’s a reason she didn’t tell us?”

Delly threw her hands in the air and hissed, “Why would you ask that now?”

“I don’t know!” I said, throwing my hands up too. “This went better in my head. But she’s been in her room since we got back, and I know she’s going over to see her dad soon. What do we do?”

“Here, I’ll just text her,” Delly said as she whipped out her phone.

I frowned, dropping my hands. “You have her number?”

“Yes, doofus,” she said as she typed away .

What could she be texting to her that required so many letters?

She glanced up at me. “Do you want me to send you her number?”

“Yes. No.” I paused, then reiterated, “No. Not without her permission.”

Delly’s lips pursed like she was holding back a laugh. I did not find it funny. At all.

Ireland’s door opened quietly in the next moment, and I went ramrod straight. “Lordy,” I muttered. “What do I do?”

“Schedule yourself a haircut, maybe.”

I gave her a dry look. “Beach Delly is as rude as mountain Delly. And college Delly.”

Ireland stepped into the room, and I only barely held back a smirk when my sister straightened her shoulders.

She wanted this to go well too.

I turned to Ireland, and my gaze went from her knees to her eyes.

I couldn’t stop the compulsion. It was automatic now every time she entered a room. Or my thoughts, where I’d just grab the most recent image I’d stored of her.

No one spoke. Delly was staring a hole into the side of my head, and Ireland’s blue eyes were bouncing between us.

Lordy.

“We got you a cake,” I said in a rush. “Do you want some?”

“Oh, dear lord,” Delly muttered under her breath, then pushed me aside with her shoulder.

“Happy Birthday, roomie,” Delly said, taking the reins. “I’m sorry we’re late, but it only came to our attention recently. I hope you like vanilla on vanilla. ”

“You already got the lock,” Ireland said, addressing me.

“Yes. That was the practical gift,” I said. “This is for pleasure.”

Delly made a choking sound, and Ireland pressed her lips together, eyes filling with mirth as she stared at me. “Think I’ll need to, uh, lubricate it?”

The words processed one by one, and then I hung my head. “See you guys next year,” I muttered, turning away as if I were leaving the room.

Ireland caught my arm, her small hand warm on my bicep.

“Hey,” she said, pulling me to a stop. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

I smiled. “If you are.”

She squeezed once before dropping her hand. I tracked its path all the way to her side.

Delly brushed past us and put the cake on the kitchen table, then three plates. We all took our usual seats, and my sister gave us a pointed look.

“I’m disgusted that you have an inside joke,” she said as she cut a slice for each of us, “and normally I’d demand to be in on it, but given the keywords, I’m gonna pass this time.”

Blue eyes met mine briefly, then we both looked away.

“Thank you, guys,” Ireland said, breezing over the moment. “This is great.”

“Happy Birthday,” I said again.

“Want us to sing?” Delly asked with a broad smile.

“No, thank you,” Ireland said quickly, and Delly snorted.

“That’s good. Pops and Addy are the singers in the family. I somehow missed out on that gift. ”

“Oh?” Ireland said, eyebrows raised as she turned to me.

I nodded. “Grams was a piano teacher and sang in the church choir. They took me and Delly a lot.”

“My hand bell phase was short-lived, thankfully,” Delly added. “Lasted one practice, to be exact. They said I was ‘too aggressive’ for such a delicate instrument.” She made air quotes as she spoke, and Ireland and I both laughed, though Ireland’s chuckle was more reserved.

“That’s how I’ve always felt about ballet,” she said as she cut another piece off her cake with the side of her fork. “The softness never came naturally to me.”

“When did you start dancing?” I asked, way more interested in this conversation than the cake.

“Pretty early on. I don’t even remember the first class, but….” She trailed off, a distant look in her eyes, before she shook herself. “I have pictures of my first recital, so it’s almost like remembering.”

She turned her attention to her plate, gripping her fork a little more tightly than she was before. Delly was busy doing something on her phone, which left me open to sneak glances at Ireland as much as I wanted.

Which was a lot.

I wanted to know more, to ask every question I could think of, but with her head down and her hair curtaining her face, I knew she didn’t want that.

Not now.

“How long have you been living on the Coast?” Delly asked, setting her fork on top of her empty plate.

“Since just after Christmas,” Ireland responded, her tone flat.

“So, this is your first summer living by the beach too?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose you’re right. ”

“All done?” I asked them both, and when they nodded, I reached across the table with an apologetic smile and piled our plates in front of me.

“Wanna help me look for sand dollars later?” Delly asked, undoing the subtle work I’d just done to move onto a different conversation thread. “I’m determined to find one.”

Ireland lifted a shoulder. “Sure.”

I blew out a subtle, relieved breath.

“Tomorrow maybe?” Delly asked hopefully.

Ireland shook her head. “Sorry, I try to spend as much of Sunday with Dad as I can, and I have a couple classes too.”

I pulled out my phone and did a quick search. “Google says the best time to find sand dollars is early morning or after a storm.”

Delly blew out a breath. “Let’s hope for a storm. I’m not getting up early tomorrow for anything.”

I snorted. “I’m very proud of you for making it to work on time all week.”

“You woke me up every day,” Delly said dryly. “So maybe I should be proud of you.”

“Hey, I’ll take it,” I said.

Ireland got up from the table, and right when I thought she was going to leave, she turned and leaned her shoulder on the molding between the dining area and living room. “How’s work going for you guys?”

“Good,” I said at the same time Delly said, “Okay.”

Ireland and I both looked at her, but I asked the question. “Just okay?”

Delly shrugged. “It’s… a lot. Especially on the second floor.”

Ireland nodded in understanding. “A lot of difficult situations on that floor. You’re getting your bachelor’s now?”

“Yeah,” Delly replied. “This coming year will be my last before I start medical school. Hopefully.”

“That’s impressive. How old are you?”

Delly beamed, glowing at the praise. “I turned nineteen in January. Addy got me a cookie cake with a frosting unicorn on it. I think he confused nine and nineteen.”

I nodded seriously. “I’m easily confused like that. And talking to you doesn’t help.”

Ireland’s lips twitched, and Delly just rolled her eyes at me.

“Do you work full-time at the Locc?” she asked, directing the conversation back to Ireland, who smiled tightly.

“Not really… and definitely not as of this afternoon.”

I leaned forward, zeroed in on this new information. “What happened this afternoon?”

“I officially started working for Ari. We’re organizing a fundraiser to build a greenhouse for Live Oak residents.” She kept her posture mostly casual but bounced a little on her toes at the end, as if she was more excited to share this than she wanted to let on.

“That sounds pretty awesome,” I said honestly. “What all is involved with that?”

Her shoulders sagged. “A lot. I’ve only just started, and I already feel so behind.”

“On which part?” Delly asked, rounding the kitchen and reclaiming her seat at the table.

“Live Oak is matching whatever funds we raise, but the deadline for that promise is soon. Really soon.” Her brows furrowed. “We need— I need—to come up with some ideas fast.”

“You will,” I said, meeting her eyes .

“I hope so,” she said, holding my gaze, the blue deeper than before.

“Are you hoping to get contributions from our neighbors?” Delly asked curiously.

Ireland blinked, breaking our connection, and looked at her. “Yeah, and local businesses. Sponsorships for… something … would be great, but I have really only started writing down ideas today.” She fiddled with the shredded hem of her jean shorts, drawing my gaze to her legs.

“What about something related to your classes?” Delly asked a few moments later, and I realized what I was doing, and stood up abruptly, heading to the fridge to cover for it.

I guessed it was my emotional support fridge.

“Like a dance-a-thon or something?”

“Yeah, that could work. It could be a whole weekend thing. Oh! You could do glamor shots.”

I abandoned the fridge and turned back toward them. “Our friend Cole does photography as a hobby. He was planning on coming down for his birthday in July. He would definitely volunteer his time if we asked.”

Delly snorted. “Yeah, because he’s in love with you. He’d probably leave his job and move in here if you asked him to.”

“You—” I took an exaggeratedly deep breath. “—are correct. Ish.”

“Hold on,” Ireland said, pulling out her phone. “Let me put these in a note so I don’t forget.”

My chest warmed the longer I watched Delly and Ireland volley ideas back and forth, with me adding little bits here and there, especially in regards to safety concerns with Live Oak’s residents.

By the time Ireland’s phone buzzed and she headed off to have dinner with Beck, a wrapped plate with two slices of cake in hand, I was practically giddy at the way things had turned out.

And just to think…

If I hadn’t stuck my hand in that trash bag, this would’ve never happened.

Early the next morning, I slid a note under Ireland’s door.

“I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward.” – May Sarton