Page 8 of When Summer Returns

Photos adorned various surfaces—Luke with an older couple she recognized as his parents, Luke holding up an impressive fish, Luke with Sheriff Reece Wells and several other islanders at what appeared to be a festival. No women, she noted with a relief she had no right to feel.

Time moved differently on the island, stretching and contracting in ways she’d forgotten during her years in the structured world of finance. With nowhere to be and nothing immediate to attend to, Jessie found herself at loose ends.

She tried passing the time with a thriller she’d found on Luke’s bookshelf, surprised by his taste for psychological suspense. Television proved equally unsatisfying—the island’s reception was spotty at best, and the reality shows and news cycles felt like dispatches from another planet. Eventually, she discovered a dog-eared sudoku puzzle book tucked between maritime almanacs on Luke’s bookshelf. The remaining unsolved puzzles barely challenged her, and she breezed through them in under an hour.

She was contemplating a second cup of coffee when the sound of tires on gravel caught her attention. Through the dense vegetation that sheltered the front of the house from the road, she spotted her rented golf cart coming down the path. A young man—barely out of his teens—was at the wheel, navigating the muddy track with her suitcase balanced precariously on the passenger seat.

Jessie met him at the door, relieved to see her belongings had survived the storm relatively unscathed.

“Ms. James?” the young man asked, setting her suitcase inside the doorway. “I’m Miguel. Luke sent me with your stuff. Your golf cart’s under the house now too.”

“Thank you, Miguel.” She noticed he wore a Seeker’s Paradise T-shirt, the logo emblazoned across the back. “That was very kind of you.”

“No problem at all.” His smile was infectious. “Luke said to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t bring it himself, but we got slammed when the rain let up. Everybody on the island decided they needed lunch at the same time.”

“Is it always this busy?” She stepped aside to invite him out of the drizzle.

“Tourist season,” Miguel shrugged. “But Luke makes it worth our while. Best boss on the island—probably in the whole state. Helped me get my mom’s medical bills sorted after her accident last year. Even paid for a specialist from the mainland.”

The simple statement revealed more about Luke Mallory than anything she’d learned since her return.

“That sounds like a lot more than just being a good boss,” she observed.

Miguel’s expression grew serious. “That’s just how he is. Takes care of his people. The whole island, really. The Cove Restaurant at the hotel might be bigger, and there are a few mom-and-pop places scattered around, but Seeker’s Paradise is the heart of the island. When Hurricane Elise hit three years back, we were the only place with a working generator. Luke kept everybody fed and sheltered until help came.”

The image of Luke as the island’s protector didn’t surprise her, exactly. He’d always possessed a caretaker’s heart beneath his easygoing exterior. But the extent of his commitment to the community touched something deep within her.

“I should let you get back,” Miguel said, glancing toward the door. “Unless you need anything else?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Jessie reached for her purse. “Let me give you something for your trouble.”

Miguel waved her off with a grin. “Already taken care of. Boss said to put it on his tab.”

After Miguel left, Jessie dragged her suitcase to the guest room, grateful to have her own clothes again. She unpacked methodically, hanging dresses and separates in the empty closet, arranging toiletries in the bathroom.

Her laptop emerged from its protective case unharmed, and she set it up on the small desk by the window. As if on cue, her phone chimed with an incoming call from Winston Hadley, her most persistent client.

“Hello, Mr. Hadley,” she answered, slipping into the professional persona that had been her armor for fifteen years.

“Jessica, darling.” Winston’s cultured voice filled the line. “Tell me you’ve reconsidered this sabbatical nonsense. The Miyamoto deal is circling the drain without you.”

Jessie gazed out at the rain-washed beach, so different from the steel-and-glass landscape she’d left behind. “Hello to you too, Winston.”

“Pleasantries are for people who aren’t hemorrhaging money.” His agitation transmitted clearly despite the distance. “The replacement they assigned me couldn’t negotiate his way out of a paper bag. We need you back.”

“I told you when I left that this wasn’t a temporary situation.” She kept her voice calm, reasonable. “I’m handling some family matters.”

“For God’s sake, Jessica. Family matters don’t take three months. Whatever inheritance your father left, let the lawyers handle it. I’ll double your year-end bonus if you’re back by Monday.”

The offer would have been tempting just weeks ago. Now, watching the patterns of sunlight beginning to break through clouds over the ocean, it held no appeal.

“I appreciate the offer, Winston, but my decision stands.” She softened her tone. “Try working with Anita Reynolds. She’s brilliant with Asian markets.”

“She’s not you.” The grudging compliment almost made her smile. “Nobody has your instinct for when to hold and when to fold.”

“Thank you for that. I’ll take it as a compliment and a fond farewell.”

Winston sighed dramatically. “At least tell me you’re not squandering your talents serving drinks in some backwater beach bar.”

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