Page 59 of When Summer Returns

“Jesse James, ensuring he’s a pain in the ass from beyond the grave.” Reece shook his head. “That man had a gift.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Before the conversation could continue, the bar’s phone—one of the few landlines still functioning on the island—rang with the particular jangle that indicated an off-island call. Miguel reached for it with his usual flourish.

“Seeker’s Paradise, where heaven meets hurricane recovery. This is Miguel, how may I direct your paradise experience?”

Luke rolled his eyes at the greeting, though he had long since given up trying to enforce phone protocol. Miguel’s unique customer service approach had become something of an island trademark, particularly with repeat visitors who called ahead to reserve tables.

“Yes, she is,” Miguel was saying, his eyebrows rising in interest. “May I ask who’s calling? I see. And this would be regarding? Hmm. Very interesting.”

Luke watched as Miguel’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something more calculating, his gaze sliding to where Jessie sat still engaged with Abernathy.

“One moment, please,” Miguel said with exaggerated professionalism, pressing the hold button. He turned to Luke with barely contained excitement. “It’s for Jessie. Some guy named Winston Hadley from Hammond, Prescott & Associates in Savannah. Says it’s urgent business regarding a partnership offer and a—” he lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper, “—corporate jet waiting on the mainland.”

Luke felt something cold settle in his stomach. Corporate job. Mainland career. The reality of Jessie’s other life—the successful, polished existence she’d built far from Seeker’s Island—suddenly materialized in the form of a phone call. He’d known, of course, that she had a life beyond the island. But the past days of hurricane recovery had created a bubble where those external realities seemed distant and theoretical.

“Tell him she’s in a meeting,” he found himself saying. “Take a message.”

“Ah, the classic avoidance strategy,” Miguel nodded sagely. “Effective but ultimately futile.”

“She’s literally in a meeting,” Luke pointed out, gesturing toward the corner booth.

“True, but this isn’t just any call. This is the ‘your fancy corporate career needs you right now’ call.” Miguel’s expression turned surprisingly serious. “You sure you want to be the one making that decision for her?”

The question landed with unexpected weight. Did he have the right to intercept a call that might significantly impact Jessie’s career? The instinct to protect what they’d begun building these past days warred with his deeper desire for her happiness—whatever form that might take.

“Fine,” Luke conceded. “Let her know. But don’t make a whole production out of it.”

Miguel’s expression suggested that making a production was exactly what he intended. He sauntered toward Jessie’s table with the cordless phone, clearing his throat for maximum attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Island Heiress,” he announced, interrupting the legal conversation with practiced nonchalance. “There’s a rather urgent call for you from the mainland. A Mr. Winston Hadley of Hammond, Prescott & Associates. He mentioned something about a partnership offer and—” he paused dramatically, “—a corporate jet currently idling its very expensive engines while awaiting your response.”

Every head in the bar turned toward their corner. Island life fed on this kind of drama, and Miguel had just served up a five-course meal. Jessie’s expression flashed from surprise to something approaching embarrassment before settling into careful neutrality.

“I’m in the middle of something, Miguel,” she said, gesturing to the papers spread across the table.

“I told him that,” Miguel agreed cheerfully. “But he was most insistent. Something about billion-dollar mergers crumbling without your magical touch? I may have embellished that part slightly.”

Theodore Abernathy coughed discreetly. “Perhaps we should pause here, Miss James. These corporate matters may require your immediate attention, whereas the estate documents will still be waiting when you’re finished.”

The entire bar seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Jessie’s response. Luke could practically feel the collective curiosity radiating from the handful of island regulars who had stopped mid-conversation to witness the unfolding drama.

Jessie glanced from the phone to the papers to Luke, something complicated flickering in her expression. Then, with deliberate calm, she addressed Miguel.

“Please tell Mr. Hadley that I’m currently handling my father’s estate matters and will return his call when I’ve finished. If it’s truly urgent, he can email the details.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not having anticipated this response. “You sure? He seemed pretty worked up. Lots of important-sounding words and heavy breathing.”

“I’m sure,” she confirmed, turning back to Abernathy. “Now where were we?”

The collective audience, denied their expected drama, gradually returned to their own conversations, though with the distinct air of people keeping one ear tuned to the corner booth. Luke found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Whatever Jessie’s ultimate decision might be, she’d just chosen the island’s business over the mainland’s demands—at least for the moment.

Miguel returned to the bar, phone in hand. “She just put a corporate big shot on hold to deal with island paperwork,” he muttered, sounding impressed despite himself. “Did not see that coming.”

“Jessie’s full of surprises,” Luke agreed, feeling a complicated mix of relief and concern. He watched as she resumed her conversation with Abernathy, her expression once again focused on whatever complexities her father’s will presented.

In the booth, Jessie stared at the document before her, its legal language a stark contrast to the emotional weight it carried. “I don’t understand. Why would he do this?”

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