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“No need. I’m one of the few people around here who still has a landline,” she said with a laugh.
“Okay, well, I’ll call you later, and if you don’t answer, I’ll come back to check on you,” he said.
She nodded. “You’re a good man, Bo Broussard.”
He smiled as though he didn’t know of anything that could make that statement untrue, but he was thinking,Proves how little you know.
He turned and started trudging to his house, battling a stronger wind than when he’d come just a few minutes earlier, but before he could get out of earshot, she called him back and insisted he take a jar of the blackberry jam she’d made up last summer. She was always giving him something; she had to be one of the most generous people he’d ever met.
He was thanking her when his cell phone signaled a call. He hoped it wasn’t his sister again. He dreaded seeing her number pop up.
After he pulled his cell from his pocket, he could see that it wasn’t Matilda. It was Remy Windsor, but he wasn’t any more excited to talk to his boss’s son than he was his own sister.
He lifted the jam Honey had given him in lieu of waving goodbye and set out again as he answered. “Hello?”
“Bo? It’s Remy.”
Caller ID had already established that, but polite convention was polite convention. “Good to hear from you.” Bo knew better than to reveal his true feelings. Annabelle would fire a mere caretaker—regardless of how dedicated he was to his job—if Remy demanded it. She did whatever she could to please and indulge her sons. “You must be calling to make sure your fiancée is comfortable and safe.” Except Remy could’ve called Ismay if he was merely looking for reassurance. This was about something else, and considering what Bo had overheard last night, he could easily guess what.
“I’m calling to thank you for looking out for her.”
Bo stopped walking. For a second, he thought he’d underestimated Remy—that Remy deserved more credit—but then Remy continued, “And to make sure you’re all set to stay in your own place tonight.”
There it was.
Bo pictured the tree that had destroyed most of his living room and the murky water sitting in his house, warping the hardwood floor and creeping up the walls—moving higher the longer the Sheetrock had to soak it up. Remy didn’t care about that. He hadn’t even asked about the tree or the amount of damage it’d caused, or if Bo would be able to stay warm and dry if he remained at home. He just wanted Bo to keep his distance from Ismay. Period. “Of course. No problem.”
“Do you have enough food? Batteries? All of that? If not, it might be smart to stock up while you have the chance, just in case.”
So he wouldn’t have any excuse to go back to the big house after it got dark...
Bo chuckled humorlessly to himself. As if he didn’t have enough to do today, Remy expected him to go to the store. He could’ve explained that the longer he left the cottage as it was, the worse the damage would be. But Remy didn’t care about that, either. His parents would be the ones to pay that price and saving them money had never been a consideration for him. “Good advice,” Bo said, as if he weren’t smart enough to think of that himself, and hoped he’d managed to keep his tone even so Remy couldn’t hear the facetiousness in that statement.
“Great. Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay.”
That was the biggest lie of all. Remy didn’t give a shit about him. Annabelle’s son was only concerned with getting whathewanted. Remy had yet to hit a limit on what he could own, so he felt he could own her. “Couldn’t be better,” Bo replied.
Fortunately, Remy didn’t seem to pick up on the facetiousness ofthatanswer, either.
“Wonderful. I’ll be there as soon as I finish my last exam.”
“Good luck,” Bo said, and Remy was gone.
Bo shook his head as he disconnected the call. Remy didn’t have to worry about him trying to move in on his fiancée. Bowantedto stay away from Ismay. He was too hungry for the gentle sweetness she seemed to possess, probably because he’d encountered so little of it in his lifetime—and that hunger meant the storm wasn’t as much of a threat to him as she was.
While she was on Mariners, Ismay had anticipated shopping, picking out her favorite restaurants to take Remy to when he finally arrived, and spending long lazy afternoons reading on the beach—not huddling inside the house trying to outwait a storm with gale-force winds or worrying incessantly about Jack. She tried calling her brother as soon as Bo left, just to check in, but he didn’t answer, so she dialed her mother, who was—not surprisingly—equally distraught.
“I never saw this coming, never dreamed Ashleigh was so unhappy,” Betty said. “How’d I miss it?”
“I don’t know,” Ismay replied. “Have you had the chance to speak to her?”
“No. I—I haven’t been able to make myself reach out.” Her mother’s voice was thick and full of tears. “It’s all too new, and...and I’m brokenhearted.”
“Where’s Jack now?” Ismay asked.
Her mother sniffed. “Out on the farm with your father.”
“He’s not answering his phone.”
