ARKER WAS SHOWERING. Not ten feet from his bedroom, Parker Welles was naked and wet.

Okay. Probably not the most productive way to start the day. She’d already blown him off in spectacular fashion once in his life. But she was naked and wet and near, so these thoughts were apparently unavoidable.

Since yesterday, when she accepted that she really did need some help here, Parker had been very civilized, oh, yes. She always was. Nope, he was not allowed to see behind the curtain, as it were.

Except for that one time at her cousin’s wedding. Damn. When she’d leaned in and kissed him on those stairs, he actually froze for a second, convinced he was hallucinating the whole thing. But no. The memory of what had followed would live on the trophy shelf of James’s mind till the day he died.

And afterward, when he was convinced she was having not only second thoughts, but third, fourth and fifth thoughts, too, she agreed to hang out with him. She kissed him on the cheek. Which, in its own way, meant more than even the unbelievable shag.

Then he’d run smack into Harry at the base of the stairs. Hey, Harry, I just finished doing your daughter. How’s it going?

So what was he supposed to do?

He figured he’d take his lead from Parker, and she’d been her usual frosty self with Harry. Then Harry had taken him off to meet some Rhode Island senator, and yeah, maybe it had been more than a few minutes. But he hadn’t expected her to bolt, either. Texted her, got no answer. Maybe something had come up with her kid. But Harry was power-drinking and, as usual, wanted company. James called Parker; no answer. When Harry insisted on going back to the city because of a Sunday-morning brunch he couldn’t miss, James went with him, knowing his boss was sloppy, feeling that mix of pity and love he always did when Harry overindulged. And now, maybe, he was taking care of not only his boss, but of Parker’s father. Drove all the way back to Rhode Island so he could see her the next day.

Whereupon he’d gone over with flowers and found that he’d become dog shit. Then again, he may well have been dog shit all along. He might’ve just been the guy picked up by the bridesmaid. No one could measure up to the Paragon, after all. A point driven home by the fact that Parker had the guy right there in the house with her.

Not that James really wanted to try to measure up. He’d never pictured himself married, never wanted kids. But the first time he’d ever seen Parker Harrington Welles, staring at her baby as if no one on earth had ever had a baby before, her face so rapt and gentle…something had sneaked up on him in that moment and sucker punched him and reminded him of what he didn’t have, and hadn’t had for a long time.

Somebody to love.

He loved Mary Elizabeth, of course. But that was different.

Then, at The Wedding, he’d felt it again, that sucker punch when she kissed him on the cheek, a moment of believing that Parker…well. Whatever. She didn’t. She’d made that abundantly clear.

So why was he lying in bed, thinking about her? Because he was an idiot, that was why.

The water shut off. James surmised that if he leaped out of bed at this very second, he could probably catch her in her towel. But no, she was quick. The bathroom door opened; her bedroom door closed. He rolled out of his own bed and pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt and went into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Parker joined him, the little dog slinking at her calves. “Hey,” she said. “I have to run, but I poured boiling water over these mugs last night and washed them three times.” She glanced at him, not quite meeting his eyes. “And luckily, I brought my Keurig, so there’s coffee if you want it.”

“Good morning,” he said.

Her ears went red. “Hi. Sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

“Yes, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I’m meeting my cousin this morning at the diner. Should I bring something back for you?”

“That’d be great.”

She nodded, pulled her wet hair into a ponytail. “So you really think we can get this place up and running by the time Nicky gets back East?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he said. So long as he worked twenty hours a day or so. “It won’t be what he’s used to, but it’ll be livable.”

“He won’t care. He’ll be so excited about the dog. And the ocean, too. He swims like a fish.” She paused. “As you know.”

“This water’s too cold for swimming,” James said. “It’s not like Rhode Island.”

“Well, he’s five. Hypothermia only deters adults.” She smiled a little, then grew somber. “I was thinking last night about how to pay you,” she began.

How about in sex? You could pay me in sex, most definitely. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.”

Right. The help must be paid. “Your father already took care of it,” he lied. “Now, get to the diner. Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”

“Yes. Um, I guess I’ll leave the dog here?”

“Sure,” he said. “We can bond.”

“Good luck with that.” Her smile hit him in the chest like a line drive.

Three weeks together before her kid came up. Three weeks alone with Parker Harrington Welles. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shoot himself.

* * *

TO PARKER’S SURPRISE, Joe’s Diner was mobbed; for such a tiny town, she wouldn’t have guessed there’d be a line. Then again, it was the only place in town, from what she’d seen yesterday. The smell of dark-roasted coffee and bacon greeted her, practically making her knees buckle. That pizza last night hadn’t been anything to write home about…and then again, there was James watching her, which was proving to be quite uncomfortable.

All that work he did—for her—well, Harry was paying him, but still, that smile of his brought up some very conflicted memories.

Because you were slutty, chided Golly.

“You have a point,” Parker said.

“Morning,” said a rough voice, making her jump.

Oh, yes. This was more like it. Fling Material. The guy with one name. Malone, that was it, in all his blue-collar glory. “Hi,” she said. “Hi again. Great to see you. How are you? Malone, right? You were very, um, helpful the other night.”

He stared at her. Not smiling. A little scary, even. Parker swallowed and tried again. “So, Malone, I think I owe you a drink, since you straightened me out on my little property issue and all. Which I can’t say I appreciate, really. I would’ve much preferred the first house.”

So out of practice on this boy-girl stuff.

Maybe it’s not so bad, Spike commented. He’s smiling.

It was true. A little, anyway. “You going in?” he asked.

“Yes, yes.” Parker pushed through the door of the little diner and turned back to Malone. “Um, I’m meeting my cousin Lavinia Harrington. I don’t suppose you know her, do you?”

“Last booth on the left.” He nodded, then turned as someone slapped him on the shoulder.

Last booth on the left. A woman—or possibly a man—sat there, studying the menu. She looked up as Parker approached. “Pahkah?” Lavinia Harrington looked like she sounded—somewhat ravaged. Deep, leathery face framed with frizzy white hair.

“Hi,” Parker said, squeezing past a buxom woman holding a baby. “It’s really nice to—”

“Hurry it up, girl. Sit down.”

Parker obeyed, sliding into the red vinyl seat. “So, you’re Lavinia,” she began. “I’m not one-hundred-percent sure how we’re related, to tell you the truth.”

“Could you hush up for a few? There’s a surprise planned.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Rather a strange welcome. She looked around at the diner, which was gleaming and adorable, like a piece of Norman Rockwell. Every seat was filled—families in booths, people sitting at the counter, babies, toddlers, old folks— Oh, hey, there were the Three Musketeers from the hardware store yesterday. She waved, but they didn’t see her.

At the counter directly across from Parker’s booth was the stacked woman and her baby, who was dressed in blue. Six months, Parker guessed, all drool and smiles. God, Nicky had been so cute at that age! The mother wore a low-cut blouse, and a young guy next to her stared appreciatively at her wares. Aside from him, everyone seemed to be looking out the window and murmuring excitedly.

“Here she comes, here she comes,” announced a woman about Parker’s age. “Act normal, everyone!”

“Maggie, Maggie!” said the toddler next to her. “Maggie coming!”

“Shh,” the dad said. “Be cool, Violet, sweetheart.”

Like everyone else, Parker watched as a woman approached the diner, a yellow Lab on her heels, two grocery bags in her arms. “Okay, Octavio,” she said, pushing through the door. “I can’t believe we ran out of bacon and eggs when I could’ve sworn—” She stopped in her tracks. Her gaze flicked around the diner, eyes wide. “Where did everyone come from?” she asked. “Mom! What are you doing here? Did someone die?” Her voice trailed off as her eyes stopped on Malone.

Parker sighed…not with happiness, like everyone else in the place. Indeed, the woman with the toddler had tears sliding down her cheeks—hang on, she was twins with this Maggie person, apparently. The busty woman tilted her head on the young guy’s shoulder and smiled. Indeed, everyone was smiling.

And here it comes, Parker thought. Sure enough, Malone, who was clearly not going to be her summer fling, got down on one knee and held up a small black velvet box. Yep. She just asked that guy out. The one on bended knee.

“Jeezum crow, Malone,” Maggie squeaked. A grinning man wearing a white apron stepped forward and took the grocery bags out of her arms.

“Well?” Malone said, a smile playing on his face. Everyone in the diner laughed—clearly some insider joke.

“Well, what?” Maggie said, a wobbly smile working its way through her tears.

Malone seemed to groan a little, and another laugh went through the crowd. “All right, then.” He paused, took a deep breath and soldiered on. “I love you, Maggie, have for a long time, and I’d be real glad to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life. You and the dog, that is.” Another laugh, and now Malone’s face was gentle. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, that was great. Yes, absolutely, yes, Malone, I thought you’d never ask.” She half laughed, half wept, and Malone rose and kissed her, and everyone cheered.

Oh! We have the Warm Fuzzles! the Holy Rollers crowed.

You sicken me, Parker thought. Still, the HRs had a point. It was all lovely. Her eyes were even a little wet, too, and several people were openly weeping. The twin was hugging Maggie now, and the toddler was jumping up and down. An older woman holding an infant was crying, as well. The whole place was congratulating the happy couple, slapping Malone on the back, kissing Maggie. Young people, old people, in-betweens…seemed as if the whole town was there.

For one brief second, Parker tried to imagine this scene happening to her. Yeah. No. She wasn’t really the Warm Fuzzles type, despite having invented the nauseating term.

Across the booth, Lavinia coughed, an alarming sound, then nodded as if satisfied. “We been watchin’ these two for some time,” she said in her rusty voice. “Malone asked us all to come, wanted his daughter here. She’s from away. But he figured Maggie’d like that. Seems he was right.”

A party seemed to be breaking out—orange juice and champagne were offered, and a few people were coming in and out of the kitchen with goodies. A thickly built waitress plunked a plate of Danish pastries down in front of her, and Parker snagged one. “Think I could get some coffee?” she asked. “I’m dying for a little caffeine.”

“Help yourself,” she said, making her way through the crowd.

“I’ll get it, this being your first time and all,” Lavinia said, sliding out of the booth.

Parker looked around, the only stranger here, it seemed. Rolly gave her a wave, but he was on the other side of the diner, talking to a young man with Down syndrome. Parker looked at the little jukebox at her table. Oldies but goodies. Tried not to feel awkward.

Little Maggot looked around. He didn’t know any other maggots on the entire roadkill. If only he was better at making friends!

“Hi there!”

Parker looked up at the bride-to-be and Malone, who nodded. “Sorry, the service kind of sucks this morning,” the woman said. “Because this guy here, he told everyone we know to show up. And I had no idea. How is that possible, I ask you? I mean, I know everybody, right? Except you. Hi, I’m Maggie, and I know you’re Julia Harrington’s niece. Sorry to be babbling. I’m a little overwhelmed. Because I’m engaged.” She bit her lip and looked at the ring herself, then kissed Malone’s cheek. “It’s so beautiful, Malone. I love it.”

She showed off the ring. Three-quarters of a carat, maybe, fourteen-karat gold. Parker’s mother’s last engagement ring had been five carats, framed by a ring of twelve smaller diamonds, set in platinum and big enough to choke a seventh grader.

“Congratulations,” Parker said. “It’s beautiful. I’m Parker. In town for the summer.” Sorry I had dirty thoughts about your fiancé.

“Where are you staying?” Maggie asked.

“At my aunt’s house.”

“Oh.” Maggie gave a little grimace. “Um, that’s a beautiful spot. Welcome to Gideon’s Cove. Anything you need, stop by. I know everyone. So does this guy here. Oh, my God, Malone! Are you sure you want marry me? Given how much I talk?”

He nodded once. “I’m used to it.” Put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

Dang, they were cute.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Lavinia said. “You meet my cousin? Parker, the happy couple.”

“Yep, we met,” Parker said, gratefully taking the cup of coffee.

“So when’s the wedding?” Lavinia asked.

“Two weeks!” Maggie said. “Malone already got the license and everything, because he wanted Emory to be here, of course.”

“Way to go, Dad!” a young woman called amid the hum of conversation.

“Think you could do the flowers?” Maggie asked. “Even with such short notice?”

“’Course I’ll do the flowers,” Lavinia said. “I’ll do them for free if Malone sleeps with me, just one time.”

Malone grinned but didn’t answer.

Maggie laughed. “I guess we’ll pay. I’ll come by this week, okay? It was really nice meeting you, Parker.”

“Same here.”

The couple moved on, as everyone in the place clearly wanted to hug and congratulate them.

“Nice,” Parker said. “Very romantic.”

“Ayuh. So. Welcome to town. Nice to meetcha. You saw your inheritance. What’s the plan?” Lavinia asked. She took out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag.

“No smoking, Lavinia!” Maggie called.

“Damn.” Parker’s cousin stubbed the ciggie out on her palm and tossed the butt out the window.

“Didn’t that hurt?” Parker couldn’t help asking.

“Naw. My hands are tough.”

Parker took another sip of the surprisingly good coffee. “Well, my plan is to…I don’t know. I thought I’d slap on some paint and sell the place, but I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“It’s a shit-snarl.”

“Yes indeedy.”

“Got enough money to really spiff it up?” Lavinia asked.

Parker paused. “I have a little. I don’t know how far it’ll go.”

Lavinia pursed her lips together, causing a hundred wrinkles to radiate from her mouth like anemic rays from a sickly sun. “I heard about your problems.”

“Did you?”

“Oh, ayuh. News travels fast. Especially when it’s on CNN.”

“Right.”

“How many years did your father get?”

“Six. Time off for good behavior.”

Her cousin grunted. “Deserved it, from what I hear. Sorry for you, though.”

“Well, it’s not so bad.” Besides, even if it was bad, she’d been raised not to discuss money, sex or religion. “So, Lavinia—”

“Call me Vin,” she said.

“Okay, Vin, um, how exactly are we related?” Parker asked. “We’ve never met, have we?”

“Nope. Your mother’s my cousin on the Harrington side. Althea and I, we spent a little time together as kids some summers, back when my father still owned the Point.”

“What point is that?”

“Douglas Point. The big place north of yours.”

“That was yours? You lived there?”

“Ayuh. Till my mother and father divorced. Then my father sold it a few years later.”

“Wow.” Althea had never said anything about summers in Maine.

Lavinia looked out the window. “So how is your mother these days? We didn’t really stay in touch.”

“She’s…she’s fine.”

“She ever remarry after your folks split up?”

Parker couldn’t suppress a smile. “Oh, yeah. A few times.”

Lavinia smiled back. “Is that right? Well. Tell her hello from me.”

Parker knew that the Harringtons originally harkened from Maine, but her mom had grown up in Westchester County, New York. Back when her parents were still together, big family gatherings had only included the Coven. No second cousins from the Harrington side had ever been mentioned; only those few awkward visits to Great Aunt Julia up in Boston.

“Got any help for overhauling the house?” Lavinia asked, interrupting Parker’s thoughts.

She took a deep breath. “Um, yes. A family friend.”

“Well, you’ll need it. God knows how long it’s been since the place was cleaned out. Julia stopped coming here probably fifteen, twenty years ago.” She squinted at Parker. “You need a job this summer? Make a little extra cash? I could use the help with Maggie and Malone’s wedding. Usually hire a high school kid part-time in the summer, but the job’s yours if you want it.”

Heck yeah, she wanted it. “Sure. That’d be great. Thank you.” Her first real job. Holy halos.

“Great. I gotta grab a smoke. Come by Wednesday. Three doors down. You can’t miss it.”

Lavinia left, and Parker glanced at her watch. She should get back to the shack, bring James some sustenance. Help clear stuff out. But maybe she’d call Nicky first. She glanced at her watch. He might be up. It was five-thirty in California.

Parker’s chest constricted. Nicky felt so far away—he was so far away. The fact that she hadn’t heard his voice last night, didn’t know what he’d had for dinner, hadn’t toweled off his hair after his bath…dang. Crying in a crowded diner full of strangers—not fun.

Malone sat down across from her, and Parker jumped a little. “Hey there,” she said.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.

She was about to deny it and found herself telling the truth instead. “I miss my kid. He’s with his dad in California for a few weeks.”

Malone gave a brief nod. “My daughter lives most of the year in Oregon with her mother.”

“Is that your daughter over there?”

Malone looked, his face softening a bit. “Ayuh.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Don’t talk about it.” He smiled a little. “How old’s your boy?”

“Five and a half.”

“Tough to be apart when they’re small.”

She tried a smile. “Yeah. Well, he’ll actually be coming up when they get back. So. Three weeks to go.”

Malone nodded again. “Hang in there.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she lied. “But thanks, Malone. And congratulations again.”

She got up from the booth and waited at the counter as the gap-toothed cook made a ham-and-egg sandwich to go. He refused payment, telling her everything was on the house today.

Nice to be in a place where she was anonymous. Not one mention of the Holy Rollers, or Harry—except from Lavinia.

The sun was shining, a brisk wind coming in off the water, the waves slapping sharply against the wooden pier. The lobster boats bobbed merrily at their moorings, and a seagull strutted down the sidewalk in front of her, the breeze ruffling its feathers but not its composure.

Upon further inspection, Gideon’s Cove had a bit more to it than at first glance. There was a lovely brick town hall, the police station, a bar called Dewey’s and Lavinia’s flower shop—called Lavinia’s Flower Shoppe. Parker peered in the window and saw that it was crowded with little souvenirs and fake flower arrangements. A half inch of dust was on the sill. Well. She’d make herself useful.

After that, the town became mostly residential. There were some beautiful old houses in the Federal style with handsome front doors and widow’s walks, rhododendron and lilies blooming in the yards. But the town quickly gave way to blue-collar, with two-family homes and small bungalows as the hills rose around the cove. At the top of one street, Parker could see Douglas Point. Hard to believe that had been in her family and her mother never mentioned it. Then again, Althea was hazy with details.

Aunt Julia’s place wasn’t visible. Maybe, given Thing One’s extra weight, it had fallen into the sea.

Either way, she should probably go back home. To the hovel.