Page 12 of The Vineyard Bride

Lola stretched her arms out to little Max, cradling the toddler against her as he buzzed his lips.

“You’ve been at the hospital all this time?”Audrey asked, her hand wrapped tenderly around Max’s right foot.

“Yes.Aunt Beatrice is doing all right.But seeing her like that, all banged up, has me even angrier than I was before.”Lola swallowed the lump in her throat and then asked, “Sam, you said you gave the license plate number to the police.Have you checked up on that?”

“Not yet,” Sam told her.“I don’t want to pressure them.”

Lola’s laughter was dark and gritty.“I’ve been a journalist for more than twenty years.I know how to put pressure on people to get the information I need.”

“You sound terrifying, Mom,” Audrey shot back.

“Audrey.You’re a budding journalist in your own right.You know exactly what I mean.”

Audrey nodded, her smile fading.“I know.”

A little while later, Christine appeared at the Sunrise Cove carrying a little Mia across her chest.Zach hustled out from the Bistro kitchen to greet his baby and lifted a hand to the other Sheridan Crew.His cheeks were blotchy from the heat of the kitchen.

At their corner table, Lola sipped a glass of Riesling and tilted her head, watching the ease with which Christine and Zach now conversed with one another.Zach’s hand-stretched across Mia’s head as his thumb traced the dark strands of her hair.Could Tommy and I ever...

But no.Audrey was the only daughter she’d ever needed.If she and Tommy had a child (not that they’d discussed it in any concrete way), their lives would shift forever— and not always in the best of ways.The Tommy Gasbarro she knew and loved could sail off to glorious Caribbean islands at a moment’s notice.With Lola becoming a Gasbarro herself, she had a right to a seat on that sailboat.She had a right to the adventurous world of Tommy’s life.

But a baby of their own.Tommy as a father.Audrey’s father had taken off just as soon as he’d gotten enough money around.They hadn’t heard from him much at all since Audrey had been a toddler.Good riddance.

“Where’d you go?”Audrey asked, snapping a finger in the air to yank her mother back to reality.

Lola forced a smile and refocused her attention.Amanda, seated to the left of Audrey, had her fists against her cheeks and glared down at her untouched glass of wine.

“Amanda,” Lola began tentatively, drawing her hand across Amanda’s elbow.

Amanda jumped slightly, her eyes large, proof that she’d been somewhere far away.

“Why don’t I call the police, now?See what’s up with the license plate?”

“That would be fantastic,” Amanda breathed.

Lola nodded, drawing her cell from her purse and dialing the local police station.The front desk secretary greeted her primly, sounding over-important.

“Hello, Oak Bluffs Police Station.This is Connie speaking.”

“Hi, Connie.I wondered if you could help me out with something.My niece was involved in a hit-and-run accident last night on State Road.Her boyfriend, one of the drivers, was able to give the license plate number of the vehicle that left the scene to the officers.We’re curious if anything came of that.”

“Came of what?”

Lola rolled her eyes into the back of her head.Was this woman dense, or what?“Curious if the police were able to locate the owner of the vehicle.A Chevy Cavalier, I believe.”

Amanda nodded furiously.

Connie chewed gum into the phone speaker.“I don’t believe you’re at liberty to ask such a question.”

Lola’s cheeks burned red with anger.“I’m a prominent journalist across New England.I believe it’s standard to release such information to the public.If it’s not common practice at your station, I’d be happy to write an article on the subject.”

Connie muttered something Lola couldn’t fully understand before hollering back into the belly of the station about “some woman who wanted information on the hit-and-run case.”

As she’d half-expected, Lola knew the cop in charge of the case itself.His name was Freddie, and she’d gone to school with him at Oak Bluffs High more than twenty years ago.

“Freddie!It’s been ages.How’s your family?”Lola began joyously, taking over the conversation the way she’d learned to back in her early journalist days.

“Lola Sheridan.It’s been, what, six months?I heard about your new claim to fame as director of Martha’s Vineyard plays and musicals.”

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