Page 21 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

Not even Noah Lawrence.He certainly seemed like someone who wanted to be on his own. Grace joined her at the table, cradling her mug in her hands. “So who were these vacation visitors?” she asked. She had a feeling Becca might be a little more forthcoming with information than her mother was, but at the same time she didn’t want to gossip, and especially about Noah or his family, even if alittlemore intel would be nice.

Right now, she felt as if she were stumbling in the dark when it came to this island, this family. Why was Noah Lawrence shutting himself up in Grayhaven? Was it to do with his brother’s death? But then what about what had happened so long ago, that had made his family refuse to come here for twenty years? Bab had mentioned a tragedy, a girl dying, but Grace knew no more than that.

And while she knew she didn’tneedto know, she was honest enough to admit she wanted to.

“Oh, friends of the family, business acquaintances…?” Becca shrugged. “Whoever they invited up. Their visitors would stay in the cottages while the family was at Grayhaven. I don’t remember it too well. I was only sixteen when it all stopped, after the accident.” She paused, pressing her lips together, as if there was more she was recalling but didn’t want to say.

“The accident…” Grace repeated cautiously. “Your mom mentioned a girl dying…”

“You really want all the goss, don’t you?” Becca remarked ruefully. Grace thought she saw a flash of something like grief or pain in her eyes and wondered if it had to do with the unknown girl or something else. “My mother doesn’t like to talk about it, but then she’s pretty tight-lipped generally, and itwasawful, although it was a long time ago now, and we… we had other stuff going on. My dad had died just a few months before, and… well.” She drew a quick breath, gathering her composure before continuing, “It was a sailing accident with one of the visitors—a girl, maybe seventeen or so. Eleanor, her name was. I remember that. She and her family were staying at one of the cottages, and she took a boat out by herself. There was some kind of accident, even though the weather was calm. They went out and searched for her, and eventually they found her, later in the night, when the mist was coming up.” She shook her head slowly. “I remember the sound of the foghorn, and somehow everyone knew. They thought she must have hit her head somehow and drowned. I never really understood exactly what happened, but it was terrible.”

“I’m so sorry…” Grace murmured.

“It was. Everything was such a blur… they went out searching, and they came back with her body… and then suddenly everyone was leaving.Everyone.” She shivered suddenly as the memory seemed to hold her in its misty grip. “It was terrible, at the time,” she said quietly. “Her poor mother, the way she screamed…” She shook her head. “And afterward, after the Lawrences and—the Lawrences left, it felt kind of… empty here. My brothers had already gone, and my dad…” Becca’s gaze turned distant. “I guess I was more focused on that, so I don’t remember a lot about the accident, but it made it so the Lawrences never came back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Grace said, conscious she was apologizing yet again, which made her think of Noah. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I understand why you’d be curious,” Becca told her frankly. “With this island the way it is, that gloomy house up there on the rock, and Noah as good as a hermit.” She shook her head again as she sighed. “I think he took his brother’s death pretty badly. They were twins, you know, practically joined at the hip.”

“I didn’t know they were twins,” Grace said after a moment. “Did he die recently?”

“About a year and a half ago. Noah’s been living here since, but he hardly shows his face. And he was some kind of bigwig in New York, himandhis brother. Venture capitalists. There was some article on them in the newspaper, I remember seeing it online. The Kings of New York, they were called, something of a play on words because they’d both been big chess players growing up, had tutors, competed in tournaments all over the world, all that jazz. Noah’s some kind of master at it, I think. Anyway.” Becca straightened as she put down her coffee mug. “I think I’ve probably gossiped enough. My mother would be giving me an earful if she could hear me, but I don’t get the chance to chat very much.” She gave Grace an abashed smile, seeming a little embarrassed by the admission. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.” She’d appreciated talking to someone, Grace reflected, as well as getting to know a little bit of the Lawrence family history. Maybe she and Becca could be friends. “Thanks for coming over. I hope you come again.”

“And I hope you stick it out here.” Becca rose from the table. “And I have some nosy questions to ask you,” she added, wagging a finger playfully. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten!”

“And I’ll do my best to answer them,” Grace replied with a small smile. Or at least to prevaricate. She’d become adept at sidestepping anything remotely personal, but maybe it was time to change.

Maybe it was time to change a lot of things, Grace thought as she saw Becca out. For far too long she’d kept herself isolated,immolatedeven, the unique and interesting parts of herself as good as consumed by her ex-husband’s unrelenting expectations and demands, so softly and slyly given she hadn’t even realized that was what they were. Brad had been so convincing that she’d believe it was whatshe’dwanted, and not just him.

It was going to take a while to figure out who she was and what she wanted, Grace acknowledged, a discovery of self that was long overdue, but at least here she might be able to start.

12

Grace lay low for the next few days recovering, while Isaiah checked up on her every so often, and by the third day after her accident, she was feeling well enough finally to start her job. Armed with some cleaning supplies she’d found under the sink, she headed with Jacob to the office to give it the cleaning it needed and deserved. New starts all around.

As they set out, she decided she was feeling determinedly optimistic. The weather helped; spring had finally sprung, and under sparkling sunshine, Lighthouse Cove Island looked like a picture postcard, with its sweeping hills and smooth, silvery stretches of beach, the woodland ringing the striking cliffside dotted with rainbow-hued banks of crocuses and daffodils. Even Grayhaven seemed less gloomy on a bright spring day, or maybe that was just because she felt she knew the place better now.

Grace had considered stopping by to offer her thanks to Noah for his care, or maybe just to leave a note, but she hadn’t yet, both because she did and didn’t want to see him again. He was clearly a complicated and even troubled man, and she was a just as complicated and troubled woman. And while that could, she supposed, be the basis of some kind of friendship, he made her feel too uneasy to attempt even a simple conversation, at least at this point.

Maybe later, she told herself as she let herself into the dusty office and while Jacob took charge of the broom, Grace started to scrub.

It felt good to clean something—the physical work, the intentional effort, the instant result. She even enjoyed the ache in her muscles, the sweat that beaded her forehead, the grime under her fingernails, all evidence of success. It felt like a long time since she’d had to do anything but be beautiful—and silent. Almost as silent as Jacob.

She glanced at him now, diligently sweeping, wondering when he would—and more importantly, what would make him—speak again. It had been six months since he’d said a single word, which seemed an endless amount of time. He’d always been a quiet child, but this selective mutism, apparently common in children who had experienced trauma, was extremely worrying to Grace.

As far as she could remember, it had started right when she’d told him she was leaving Brad; his mouth had parted but he hadn’t said a single word—then or since. She wondered if he was traumatized by essentially losing his father; Brad hadn’t made any effort to spend time with his son since she’d walked out of their Park Avenue apartment.

Not that Grace had wanted him to. Their divorce wasn’t finalized yet, and the temporary custody arrangement in place gave him parental access that he’d chosen not to use. When she’d told him she was taking a six-month position in Maine, Brad hadn’t even replied to her text. By that point the online smear campaign had done its dirty work.

Now, looking at Jacob diligently and silently sweeping, Grace wondered if she should take him to a therapist again, but the couple of attempts she’d made back in New York had been disastrous, with Jacob refusing to engage and once even trying to run out of the room. The therapist had advised her to wait to try again, and she understood that, because ifshewasn’t ready to talk about everything that had happened, why should her six-year-old son be? And yet it was hard to be patient with someone else’s process, never mind her own.

And what about Noah? Grace had been thinking about him more than she was comfortable acknowledging, even to herself. She’d considered all the disparate bits of information she’d collected about him—he’d saved her life, of course, but he was also a chess master, a venture capitalist, had been close to his twin brother, and had been living like a hermit for a year and a half. He suffered from nightmares he didn’t like to talk about, and was reserved, gently mocking, surprisingly kind—and a stranger.

And one, Grace reminded herself, that she’d probably never see again, no matter that they lived about half a mile apart.

With the office looking a little more presentable, she and Jacob had a picnic on the rocks outside, and they spent a pleasant half-hour going over a log of all the animals and birds that had been seen on the island.