Free Flowers on the Water by Helen Scott Taylor Page A

was so achingly familiar.
    "I guess the Willises must have double booked," he said.
    "Not possible." Lucy gathered her composure and shook her head. "I have a standing booking with Mrs. Willis for this week every year. Each time I come, I visit her and pay for the following year."
    "Oh." Dominic stared at her, his brows gathered in thought. "I booked with Terry Willis, her son."
    "When?"
    "After Christmas."
    "I booked in August last year, so I have priority."
    Dominic's lips firmed. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."
    "Don't be childish, Dom." Her impulsive retort surprised her. By the look on Dominic's face, it surprised him as well. For long moments, they stared at each other in uncomfortable silence.
    "It's ten years tomorrow, Luce," Dominic said softly. "I want to be here."
    "You haven't bothered to come for the last nine years. Now you think you can breeze in and push me out?" Lucy wedged a hand on her hip. Once she would have given in to him, but not now. "I've come every year. I think that gives me more right to the place than you."
    Dominic braced his hands on either side of the door frame, his jaw muscles bunched. He obviously wasn't about to back down. No surprise there. She'd forgotten how stubborn he could be.
    "I'm going to call Mrs. Willis and sort this out." Lucy headed to the bench beside the path, sat, and pulled her mobile phone from her bag. She found the cottage owner's number in her contacts list and dialed. She got a recorded message saying the number didn't exist. "That's crazy."
    "A problem?" Dominic leaned a shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.
    Lucy tamped down her simmering annoyance and tried to be civil. "Do you have a phone number for the Willis's son?"
    Dominic cast a suspicious glance her way, as though he half expected her to dash inside and claim squatter's rights as soon as his back was turned.
    She raised her eyebrows. "Well?"
    With an irritated grunt, he went back inside.
    Seagulls cried overhead and the rushing sound of the ocean hissed in the background. Lucy closed her eyes and sucked in a steadying breath. Even back when she'd loved Dominic more than anything else in the world, he'd still known how to push her buttons. She would not let him get to her.
    He sauntered out and handed her a sheet of paper, a printed e-mail, confirming his booking. He'd been charged twice the price she'd paid for the week. Something strange was going on here.
    She dialed the phone number for Terry Willis and waited. When he answered, she explained the problem.
    "I'm sorry, Ms. Carter. Mum died last autumn. She didn't keep proper records of the cottage bookings. I had a hell of a problem sorting them out. This isn't the first week I've double booked. I'll refund your money, of course."
    "That's not the point, Mr. Willis. I booked first. I want to stay here."
    "Look, I'm sorry. I can't ask Mr. Sinclair to leave. You probably don't remember, but a boy drowned in the bay a few years ago. It was his son."
    "I remember perfectly," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. "He was my son as well."
    Silence.
    Lucy bit her lip and waited for the man's reply.
    "Ah." He cleared his throat. "Why don't the two of you stay there together, then?"
    "We're divorced!" Lucy's voice rose as the tension inside her threatened to snap. She needed to be here. She was not about to change her plans, but she did not want to stay with her ex.
    Dominic remained in the doorway, listening in. Why couldn't he just disappear? He'd managed it ten years ago. Why did he have to turn up now? Lucy rose and paced to the farthest corner of the tiny garden. Not that it gave her much privacy.
    "Well, it's up to you if you stay," Terry Willis continued, "but I can't ask Mr. Sinclair to leave. He booked the property from me in good faith. Come by the farm if you decide you want a refund." Then the line went dead.
    The blasted man had hung up on her! Lucy huffed out a tense breath. What the hell was she to