Page 27 of When Summer Returns

“Maybe just clarity. Terminal illness has a way of stripping away pretense.” Maggie hesitated. “Luke mentioned that your father left him the bar partnership despite their difficult history. That couldn’t have been the same man who terrorized shopkeepers for incorrect change.”

“People are complicated,” Jessie said quietly. “Even monsters have moments of humanity. It doesn’t erase what came before.”

“No,” Maggie agreed. “But it might explain some things.”

“You should come to the bar tonight,” Jessie found herself saying. “I’m working, but we have live music on Thursdays. I can comp your dinner and drinks as a thank you for the coffee tour.”

Maggie’s eyebrows rose. “A doctor drinking for free? That’s going to start rumors.”

“Let them talk,” Jessie said with a smile. “I could use a friendly face in the crowd, and Mateo’s seafood paella is worth the trip.”

“You had me at ‘free drinks,’” Maggie laughed. “What time?”

“We start dinner service at six, but the music kicks in around eight.”

“Perfect. I have patient charts to finish, but I can be there by eight.” Maggie’s smile was warm with genuine interest. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a girls’ night, even one where you’re technically working.”

They exchanged phone numbers, and Jessie found herself back on the boardwalk with a lightness in her step that hadn’t been there before. The simple prospect of dinner with a potential friend had brightened her outlook considerably.

Her exploration continued past a new bookstore, an ice-cream parlor with a line stretching out the door despite the early hour, and a dive shop offering guided excursions to nearby reefs. The island had transformed from a sleepy fishing community into a carefully calibrated tourist destination, yet somehow retained its authentic heart.

At the far end of the boardwalk stood a small building painted the exact shade of a ripe peach. A wooden sign shaped like a conch shell identified it asTidal Rhythms Yoga & Wellness.Through the open door, Jessie could see a serene space with bamboo flooring and gauzy white curtains billowing in the breeze from open windows.

“You should come in,” called a voice from inside. “First class is free for islanders.”

A woman appeared in the doorway, perhaps in her early sixties, with silver-streaked hair pulled back in a simple braid and the enviable posture of someone who practiced what she preached. She wore loose linen pants and a flowing top in a complementary coral shade.

“I’m just looking around,” Jessie explained. “I used to live here, but I’ve been gone a long time.”

“Ah! You must be Jessie. I’m Eleanor Michaels.” The woman extended a hand adorned with several tasteful silver rings. “My husband and I opened this place five years ago when we escaped the corporate hamster wheel in Chicago.”

“Word really does travel fast around here.”

“Faster than light.” Eleanor’s smile was knowing. “It’s the island superpower. That, and knowing exactly when storms will hit, regardless of what the weather service says.”

“Some things never change.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Eleanor gestured toward the interior of the studio. “Would you like a tour? We offer yoga, meditation, and massage. Very popular with tourists who overdo it on their first day of vacation.”

Jessie followed her inside, appreciating the thoughtful design of the space. Large windows maximized natural light while maintaining privacy through strategic placement of potted plants and decorative screens. Yoga mats were stacked neatly in one corner beside foam blocks and bolsters.

“My husband handles the business side,” Eleanor explained, “while I teach most of the classes. We have a massage therapist who comes in three days a week from the mainland.”

“It’s lovely,” Jessie said sincerely. “I’d never have imagined something like this on Seeker’s Island when I was growing up here.”

“The island has evolved,” Eleanor agreed. “Though I’m told there was significant resistance at first. Luke Mallory was apparently instrumental in helping newer businesses establish themselves.”

“Luke was?”

Eleanor nodded. “According to island lore—and Marnie at the bookstore, who knows everything about everyone—he was one of the first to recognize that tourism could be Seeker’s Island’s salvation rather than its destruction. Something about his Coast Guard experience giving him perspective.”

“That’s…not what I would have expected.”

“Apparently he had quite the vision for balancing growth with preservation. Made some enemies among the old guard who wanted nothing to change, but time has proven him right.” Eleanor straightened an already-perfect stack of blankets. “The island thrives now, instead of slowly withering as the fishing industry declined.”

This new piece of information about Luke settled into the evolving picture Jessie was forming of the man he’d become in her absence. She’d witnessed his commitment to the bar, but hadn’t realized his influence extended to the island’s broader development.

“You should join us for a class sometime,” Eleanor said, interrupting her thoughts. “Island living can be more stressful than mainlanders realize. All that paradise comes with its own particular pressures.”

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