Home to Seaview Key. Sherryl Woods

gleam in her eyes. “Besides, if I was reading the situation correctly—and I usually do—he’s not going to need much encouragement from me. Something happened between them on that beach this morning, and it was a whole lot more than the simple rescue he wanted me to believe it was.”

      “Seth rescued Abby?”

      Her grandmother nodded. “Said she was close to drowning.”

      Unfortunately Hannah recalled all too vividly that a rescue had brought Luke and Abby together, as well. Was history repeating itself? And, if it was, was it good or bad that Seth had been the hero? She tried to assure herself that it was good. She plastered a smile on her face and injected an upbeat note into her voice.

      “In that case, it actually might be fun to watch you in action, now that I’m not the one in your crosshairs,” she said. “Maybe Abby’s the one who needs a warning.”

      “Take my advice and stay away from her,” her grandmother said flatly.

      “It’s Seaview Key. You know that’s not going to be possible. If she’s here to stay, I will run into her. So will Luke.”

      “Well, just don’t make her your bosom buddy, not until we know what she’s up to, or until Seth has made his move.”

      Hannah shook her head at the hint of drama in Grandma Jenny’s voice. At the same time, it helped to know that her grandmother’s plotting might keep Abby far, far away from Luke. Despite Hannah’s brave talk, she couldn’t seem to ignore the tiny flutter of worry that had come right along with her grandmother’s announcement.

      * * *

      Abby had kept mostly to herself since moving back to Seaview Key. She’d even loaded her car with groceries and cleaning supplies on the mainland before taking the ferry across to the island, just to cut down on gossip before she was ready to deal with it. After this morning’s incident on the beach, she had a hunch her solitude was likely to be disrupted. She might as well suck it up and head into town.

      Lunch at The Fish Tale seemed like the perfect way to let the locals—at least anyone who remembered her—know she was back. It might also be a good way to get some feedback on her plans for Blue Heron Cove. Given the way the locals had responded to the threat of any sort of development over the years, she imagined there would be plenty of opinions about the new houses she was planning for the land her folks had owned and deeded to her.

      Though she would have preferred a table in a dark corner in the back where she could observe people without being noticed, it seemed the only available booth in the busy restaurant was right up front by the window. Abby slid in, then pulled a menu from the rack at the edge of the table and hid behind it, hoping for at least a few more minutes of anonymity.

      She recognized Jack Ferguson behind the bar, same as always. His daughter, Lesley Ann, who’d been a classmate of hers, was waiting tables, though every so often she paused to pick up a baby from a playpen positioned at the end of the bar and show him off. She still held the baby when she came over to Abby’s table.

      “Can I take your drink order?” she asked, bouncing the baby in her arms. “I’ll be right back with that and take the rest of your order.”

      Before Abby could respond, Lesley Ann’s eyes widened. “Abby? Is that you? Oh my goodness! It’s been years. You look fantastic!”

      Abby grinned at her exuberance, which hadn’t changed a bit since they’d been cheerleaders together. “And you look like you’re very adept at being a mom, bouncing a baby on your hip while waiting tables. You must have learned that from your mom. She could always multitask.”

      A shadow passed over Lesley Ann’s expressive face. “She was an expert, that’s for sure.”

      “Was?” Abby said softly. “She’s gone?”

      Lesley Ann nodded. “For a while now. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. Dad’s been lost without her. Thank goodness for this place. It’s kept him going. He knows the locals count on him and he loves meeting the tourists who come to town during the season.”

      “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Abby said sincerely. “I always liked your mom. She was unflappable, no matter how rowdy we got.”

      “I aspire to be just like her, but I’m not there yet. I am pretty good at the multitasking, though. This little angel is number four and the very last one,” she said emphatically. “If another baby sneaks up on us, I swear I’m suing our doctors for malpractice. I made Bobby get a vasectomy. I’ve had my tubes tied for good measure. I’m thinking I should probably stock up on condoms while I’m at it.”

      “That surely ought to do it,” Abby said, laughing.

      “Hey, would you mind holding the baby for just a minute while I get your drink and place this other order? Little Adam Jackson here—we call him A.J.—is getting fussy. It’s almost time for his bottle. Dad’s good with him as long as he’s on his best behavior, but tears shake him up. And I don’t entirely trust him not to grab the nearest bottle to try to calm him down. Since there are a few too many beers behind the bar, that’s a potential problem.”

      Without waiting for a reply, she placed the baby in Abby’s arms. “Iced tea, right? Unsweetened, no lemon?”

      Abby was impressed. “Good memory.”

      “Not that difficult. We used to drink the stuff by the gallon all year long. That sort of habit doesn’t wear off. Back in a sec.”

      She dashed off, leaving Abby to gaze down into the wide blue-gray eyes staring back at her. The weight of the baby in her arms set off a maternal tug that she’d assured herself was long-since dead and buried now that she’d passed forty. She’d wanted children so badly, but it simply wasn’t meant to be. That’s what her husband had told her, his tone so blasted accepting.

      Sure, it made sense that her minister husband had taken God’s will at face value, but she’d desperately wanted answers, real, scientific proof that there was a physical reason why they’d had no babies after so many years of trying. Marshall had refused to consider testing, and that had been that. For a man who’d preached about tolerance, commitment and compromise in a healthy marriage, he’d been surprisingly rigid about getting his own way.

      Not that their marriage had been loveless or abusive. They’d had a lot of good times, moments of real tenderness. She’d been a better person for having known him, for trying to live up to his ideals. In the end, though, trying to be good, to be the perfect role model and mentor for their parishioners, to do everything in her power to keep from seeing that flash of disappointment in his eyes when she failed, all of it had worn her out. It had sapped the life right out of her.

      So, here she was, back in Seaview Key, hoping to find the other Abby, the one who’d laughed freely, who’d dreamed, who’d known passion and embraced life.

      She just prayed that it wasn’t too late.

      * * *

      Seth had responded to two emergency calls in a row, something that rarely happened on Seaview Key.

      The first had been an amateur fisherman who’d gotten tangled up with a hook. It had taken only a few minutes to remove the hook and treat the man. It had taken longer to calm his hysterical wife who was sure they needed to be seen by a “real” doctor on the mainland.

      The second call had taken both time and patience. Eighty-two-year-old Ella Mae Monroe had called in complaining of chest pains. Since this happened at least once a week, Seth had known she was more in need of calming and companionship than medical treatment. Luke had filled him in on the pattern his first week on the job.

      This morning he’d spent over an hour with her, assuring her that her vital signs were strong, that her symptoms were related to anxiety, not a heart attack.

      What Ella Mae really needed were friends who’d stop by or activities she could enjoy. He reminded himself to speak to Grandma Jenny about dropping in to visit and maybe inviting her