Seaview Inn. Sherryl Woods

why, if that was true, she wasn’t happier these days. It had to be because of all the pressure she was under lately, not any dissatisfaction with her life.

      “Luke, how about you?” Lesley Ann asked. “I haven’t heard anything about you since your folks moved away while you were still in college.”

      “There’s not that much to tell,” he said tightly. His expression shut down momentarily, then turned to relief when Jack came over with their drinks and Hannah’s sandwich.

      Hannah took her first bite, then sighed. “It’s every bit as good as I remembered.”

      Luke grinned. “I said the same thing.”

      “Well, of course it is,” Lesley Ann said indignantly. “It was Mama’s recipe and we don’t let anyone mess with it.”

      “I hear you’re going to take over one of these days,” Luke said.

      “I am, that is, if I can ever talk Dad into retiring.” She glanced toward the bar where Jack was once more chatting with a customer. “How can I push it, though, when this place is all that keeps him going now that Mama’s gone? You must know what I mean, Hannah. It must be like that for your grandmother since your mom died. Seaview Inn must mean more to her than ever.”

      Hannah nodded slowly, hating to admit that Lesley Ann was right. “But I don’t see how she can keep up with it at her age.”

      “Hire someone to help her,” Lesley Ann said matter-of-factly. “Or come back here yourself. I know you two were both anxious to get away from Seaview. I suppose we all were back then. But I have to tell you, I appreciate it now. It’s been a great place to raise kids and the slow pace is just right for me. Tourist season is a madhouse, but the rest of the year there’s plenty of time to catch my breath.”

      Hannah didn’t want to cast a damper on her enthusiasm, but it was already the height of the tourist season, and by her standards, Seaview was as slow-paced and boring as ever. Sure, business was hopping here at The Fish Tale, but what else was there to do in town?

      “I’m afraid I’d lose my mind living here,” she admitted. “I’m used to going to the theater and concerts, to going out for any kind of ethnic food I want, and to spending an afternoon at a museum or an art gallery when I have the time.”

      Luke studied her intently as she spoke, then asked, “When was the last time you had the time? According to your grandmother, you’re a workaholic.”

      Hannah winced but saw little reason to deny it. “Okay, yes, I am, but it’s all there if I want to go,” she said.

      “It’s wasted if you don’t take advantage of it,” he said.

      There had been a time when she had, she remembered. She’d studied the endless list of gallery openings in the paper and chosen the ones she wanted to attend. She’d gone to free concerts practically every weekend, scraped up money for a balcony seat at the ballet or the latest Broadway musical. Even with money tight, she’d seen to it that Kelsey was exposed to every bit of culture that New York had to offer. When had that changed? Now she had enough money and sufficient contacts to sit front row center at just about anything in the city and she rarely took the time to go anywhere.

      “Where do you live?” she asked Luke. “I’ll bet it’s not anyplace like Seaview. I’ll bet it’s a big city that’s bustling with things to do.”

      “I was living in Atlanta,” he said, suddenly looking distant again.

      “Was?” she repeated, studying his expression for some clue about why he’d phrased it like that. “Aren’t you going back there?”

      “Maybe,” he said, then shrugged. “Probably.”

      “Why so noncommittal?” Lesley Ann asked.

      “Long story,” he said succinctly. “And it’s getting late. I need to get some rest if I’m going to start painting in the morning.”