“It just never came up.”

The sudden twisting sensation low in my belly felt a whole lot like guilt. Volunteering for an organization that worked with foster children and families going through custody disputes didn’t exactly fit the picture I’d created of Crosby. An image I was coming to realize may have been a little too tinged by my past experiences with Grant. I knew that Crosby came from a blue blood family back east with oodles of money. Everyone on the island did. I hated to admit that the simple knowledge of his wealth might have blinded me to the truth of who he really was. “That’s really great, Crosby.”

He shrugged, continuing to paddle towards the sun. “So, you want to come with us to the aquarium?”

“I’d love it.” I needed to see this new Crosby in action, the one he hid away from everyone.

“Turn your board.”

“Huh?”

Crosby swiftly navigated his paddleboard so that he was facing the shore. “Turn around. Go slow, though. I don’t want you cursing me if you take a header into the water.”

I glared at him and carefully navigated my paddle through the water, slowly spinning my board toward the shore. When I got myself in position and steady, I looked up. My heart seized. The Gables. Crosby was right; I’d never seen the estate from this angle before. The manor house, the guest house, I could even catch sight of the house the Abbots had occupied for so many years, the one Harriet had sold while I was away at college—too many bad memories for us both.

But the rest of the property? It held nothing but good. I wouldn’t let the shadow of old memories infect it. I wouldn’t let the Abbots take it from me, from Harriet. I was going to do what she’d asked of me and make it into a true home, one full of life and the people I loved. The sun and its late-day amber color seemed to cast a glow over the buildings, the gardens, the beach. It was magical.

“Thank you.” My voice was hoarse as I whispered the two words to Crosby.

“Anytime.”

18

Crosby

Kenna twisted in her seat as we drove off the ferry and onto Shelter Island.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. She’d been fidgety the entire ride over, and quieter than normal. Not even my usual teasing and poking at her temper got a rise out of her.

“Nothing.” Kenna rubbed her hands along her jeans, smoothing invisible wrinkles.

“Stop lying to me, Brown Eyes.”

She let out a little growl. “Am I dressed all right?”