Page 6 of Visions of You

He was my cat, dammit.

I walked along the side of the two-story apartment, which was attached to a large shop. We referred to the combination building as the Barn. We’d never kept animals in it, though, just miscellaneous landscaping equipment for the resort.

And my woodworking tools. I had firmly put my foot down about that, and Maia agreed April likely wouldn’t need anything in the shop. I was giving up enough.

A sand path led in front of the Barn, ascending at a comfortable slope to the bluff at the northeastern edge of the island. As I walked along it, my back pocket vibrated. I transferred Hemingway to one arm as I dug out my phone. The Caller ID indicated it was Marvin Crutchfield, so I figured I’d better answer it.

He got right to the point. “Ben Coleridge dropped the charges. I think his hangover was bad enough that he just wanted to go home and forget what happened.”

Relief flooded through me, tension draining from my bones. “So is this the end of the whole thing?”

“Yeah. You don’t have any priors, so there’s nothing pending. Try to stay out of bar fights, though, okay?”

I ran a hand through my stiff hair. With the rush to clear outof the Barn, I hadn’t gotten either my shower or change of clothes yet. “I will. Ben just pissed me off last night.”

“He pisses a lot of people off, Gabe. Doesn’t mean you needed to beat the hell out of the man.”

“I was in a bad mood and my fuse was shorter than normal. It won’t happen again. Thanks, Marvin.”

“You’re welcome. And welcome home.”

I ended the call and shook my head as I glanced around the peaceful island. A night in jail was not how I had expected my homecoming to go.

After crossing the grassy field studded with orange blossomed flame trees, I came upon a row of three cottages. The Big House where we’d all grown up soared in the distance, commanding an incredible view. The three cottages were identical, and all constructed of stone, cinderblocks, and timber. Solid bones that had withstood over a century of storms.

I angled toward the middle cottage, Hemingway purring happily in my arms. The front door was solid mahogany, and I frowned as the hinges screeched upon opening it. Voices drifted to me from the kitchen at the back of the cottage. I hardly spared a glance at the living room dominated by a stone fireplace in one corner and furnished with two couches and several armchairs—earlier creations of mine.

As I entered the bright, sunny kitchen, my daughter broke into laughter, easing my grouchy mood and bringing a smile to my face. She sat at a bar stool snugged up to the counter, and my father stood on the other side, sliding a glass of lemonade toward her. Hailey was eight, a happy, loquacious child who wasn’t afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone.

Basically, the opposite of me.

She had been nearly blonde for the first several years of her life, but her hair was darkening now and becoming more Markham-like, which pleased me. The less she looked like my ex-wife, the better.

She saw me in the entryway and squealed. “Hemingway!”Launching herself off the stool, she bounded across the tile floor and took the cat from me. He went happily enough, settling in her arms.

I lifted her and parked her back on her stool. “Yeah, figures you’re only interested in the cat.”

Hailey smiled up at me. “I’m glad to see you too, Dad. Does this mean Hemingway is moving into this cottage with us?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I was surprised to hear you two are moving in here, instead of the Barn,” Dad said, pouring two more glasses of lemonade from a pitcher. He slid one to me and I nodded my thanks. Dad and I were nearly the same height, with the same dark-brown hair and eyes. My whole life, everyone had exclaimed about our resemblance, and it became more obvious as I grew older. But that was comforting. In his early sixties, Dad remained fit and strong.

I took a long drink of the sweet, cold liquid. “Maia wants the Barn for her friend, and I’m being chivalrous.”

Hailey finished her lemonade as she panned her eyes around the room. “This cottage is brighter than the barn. I like it, though my room is pretty bare.”

I leaned down to look her in the eye. “We’ll decorate it together. However you want—this is your home now and I want you to be happy.”

She smiled as she set her glass down. “I know. I love it here.”

“And I couldn’t be happier to have my favorite granddaughter around all the time,” Dad said.

Hailey’s face lit up. “I might not be your only granddaughter soon! When is Maia’s baby due?”

“Not for a while yet,” he replied. “August.”

She frowned. “Six months, huh? Guess I’ll have to wait.”

---