“How long is John going to be here? Gordon is coming from England in April. I don’t think I can bear the battle of the beaux.”

Cara raised a brow. “I didn’t think John was still in the beau category.”

“He’s not,” Linnea said firmly. “At least not in my mind. But I haven’t seen Gordon since he returned to England, what…” Linnea did a quick count on her fingers. “Over six months ago. That’s a long time to be apart. I don’t want my ex hanging around when he finally gets here.”

“You and Gordon are still together, right?”

Linnea nodded.

“Then it’s only a problem if you still care about John.”

Linnea felt a prick of uneasiness. “Right.”

Cara looked at her watch. “Really must go. Thanks so much for being Hope’s nanny. It’s only temporary.”

“I’m her aunt. ’Nuff said.”

Cara smiled and climbed into the car.

Linnea waved, then stepped back from the Range Rover as it backed out of the driveway. Then, because she couldn’t stop herself, she glanced up at the large arched window of the carriage house. In the light of midday, she saw John clearly. His dark auburn hair caught the light but his face was shadowed. In her mind’s eye, she could see him smiling his crooked smile.

John lifted his hand in a wave.

Linnea reluctantly raised her hand and gave a halfhearted wiggle of her fingers. Then she turned heel, rolling her eyes, and walked resolutely to the rear deck. Once out of his sight she grabbed her phone and texted her friend Annabelle. She was on the staff of the sea turtle hospital and was also a victim of this morning’s layoffs at the aquarium.

Can you come over? Must commiserate. I have wine.

She went indoors to pull out two wineglasses. As she set them on the counter, her phone pinged with a return text.

On my way.

LINNEA SETTLED BACK into the wicker chair, tucked her feet up, and crossed her arms. The large wood deck extended seaward from the house over the wild dunes of the Rutledge property. Most of the yards on Ocean Boulevard had been manicured with grass and plantings to resemble mainland lawns. Her grandmother had adamantly refused to alter the natural landscape so their property was a riotous collection of wild grasses, plants, and flowers. Across the road, a large lot was held in conservation, allowing the sand dunes to roll on unimpeded to the beach. It was a rare view on the developed island.

Looking at the sea, Linnea realized how grateful she was for the friends in her life. She remembered what her Grandmother Lovie had told her: In life you’ll have many acquaintances. But consider yourself lucky to have one or two true friends.

Linnea had always been popular in school. She’d had a dozen girls she’d called friends. But none of them had gone in the same direction she had after graduation. Some were married with children; some had moved elsewhere. Linnea had been part of the latter group. When she’d returned home from California last year, she found she had less in common with her old friends. It had been hard to realize how friendships shifted over the years. She’d made new friends—Pandora James and Annabelle Chalmers. No two women could be more different. They were like oil and water and didn’t get along. Still, a tenuous, new friendship had developed.