He covered my hand with his own but still didn’t speak. Finally, he gave me a real smile. “You’re back?”
“I’m back for good.”
Despite being a week into December, it was a warm day. Sunlight flooded through the bank of windows facing the bay. Not long after I propped open the front door, a gaggle of ladies entered the shop, all fleshy arms and laughter.
“You’ll have to forgive us if we’re too loud, dear,” one of them said. “We’re just excited to be here on a girls’ weekend. Our husbands are out hunting and we have a lot of shopping to do.”
“You’ve come to the right place. I have a little bit of everything, so make yourselves at home. Let me know if you have questions.”
They were still puttering and gossiping when Crawford walked in. It may sound crazy, but I could have sworn the sun blazed brighter and the breeze turned warmer when he entered. Or at least that’s how it felt to me. He walked through the room, stopping to chat with the ladies and make them blush with nothing but his charm and easy smile. It was hard to believe I’d even considered leaving him—and everything else—for my overloaded life in New Orleans.
“This is perfect.” One of the women touched a buffet table in the back of the shop. “I’m looking for something just like this to go in my dining room. I love the rustic look. Where did it come from?”
“A woodworker up in Still Pond made it,” I said. “He’s been making pieces like this for most of his life. He can’t handle the workload he used to, so he only makes a limited number of pieces now. I have two tables in here and another handful next door that are also for sale. He does custom orders here and there, if you ask nicely.”
She chuckled and smoothed her hand down the length of the table.
“You won’t find another table filled with as much love as this one. Look here—see this key engraved into the wood? He cuts the key into every piece he makes. He started doing it fifty years ago when he fell in love with a girl named Maggie. He said she held the key to his heart.”
“Well, you don’t hear that every day,” the woman said. “What happened to them? Tell me they married and lived a happy life together.”
“They didn’t marry,” I said, “but they should have. I’m pretty sure she loved him until she died earlier this year, and he still very much loves her.”
“Sounds like you know this woodworker well.”
From across the room, Crawford caught my eye and winked.
I nodded. “I do. He’s my grandfather.”
That night, long after the last customers found their way out of the shop, most with shopping bags rustling around their knees, Crawford and I relaxed in the rocking chairs on the back porch of The Hideaway. The Crowes were getting ready for a dinner I’d booked for them at the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, and the Melmans were at the Outrigger. Another group of guests wasn’t arriving until the next afternoon, so I had the evening off.
I sipped my wine and settled farther into my chair. My legs rested on a blanket in Crawford’s lap and he gently squeezed my bare feet.
A scuffle in the house behind us made us both look up to the open doorway. Bert stood with one hand on the door frame, the other caught in Dot’s firm grasp.
“Bert, give them some privacy,” she scolded, then turned to me. “I’m sorry. I told him you two wouldn’t be interested in his silly games, but he’s being very pigheaded.”
Bert shook his hand free from Dot’s and walked out on the porch. “I picked up this new game at Grimmerson’s today. George said it’s popular with the young people.”
“It’s Pictionary,” Dot said, exasperated.
Crawford grinned. “What do you say?” he whispered.
“I can draw a mean crawfish,” I whispered back.
“Let’s do it,” he said. “Here’s to another night in paradise.”
46
MAGS
MARCH, NINE MONTHS EARLIER
I often went back to the cove. I went on days when I couldn’t bear the loneliness of missing William—or maybe I just pined for that short, sweet time in my life when he would hold me, touch me, make me feel as alive as a power line, shooting sparks and electricity out into the universe. I’d sit along the edge of the water and imagine what it would have been like if things had turned out differently. If Robert hadn’t had that first episode and landed himself in the hospital, or if I’d never cashed that check, leading Daddy to The Hideaway, William and I might have still been together. We would have spent every evening out on our porch overlooking the water, dumbstruck at our love and how lucky we were to have found each other.