ashes remained.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to stop her frenzied pacing and thought of her father. His kindness. His smile. His comfort. She liked it on this side of Fairham, where she felt close to him. She should stay here.
But what about her mother and brother? Could she handle living so close to them? They were both difficult, for different reasons. Jack used to say her brother was worse than her mother. At least her mother was strong, determined, driven. In Maiseyâs mind, though, âstrong, determined and drivenâ couldnât make up for being narcissistic and insufferable.
That was what she normally thought, anyway. Right now âweakâ and âunable to copeâ frustrated and disappointed her just as much.
Opening her eyes, she kicked her suitcase. She mustâve been remembering Keith in a far more favorable light when sheâd raced back to Fairham.
But that didnât mean she could bear to see him hurt...
With a sigh, she checked her phone again. Still nothing. Which meant she couldnât save her brother if he was in trouble again; she had no way to track him down. With the friends he found online, playing interactive video games and gambling, he could be anywhere. No one had guessed heâd wind up in New Orleans the last time. She could only pray he wouldnât do anything like what heâd tried there...
She could also get herself situated, so she wouldnât end up sleeping on the beach again. Last night, after sheâd realized she was stranded, sheâd gone over to Unit 9 to see what, exactly, was there and found only large furniture, all of it stacked up and too heavy to move alone. That included the mattresses propped up on their sides, squeezed in behind all the furniture.
But she had more time, energy and sunlight today. She could pick out exactly what she wanted and then see if Rafe would help her move it, even though sheâd told him she didnât need his assistance.
She planned to use the internet on her cell phone to look up the number for Smittyâs in Keys Crossing. The store sold groceries, fishing paraphernalia and sundries, and the goods they carried were eclectic enough that sheâd probably find bedding, towels and washcloths. Maybe she could order what she needed and pay one of Smittyâs baggers to deliver itâif they still had baggers and those baggers had vehicles. Not everyone on the island drove cars. Most preferred scooters.
One way or the other, there were solutions. She just had to be determined and creative.
But...first things first. After sleeping on the beach, she desperately wanted a shower.
She was standing under the spray, reveling in the simple luxury of hot water, when she heard someone banging on the front door. Hoping it was her brother, she rinsed the soap from her hair and jumped out.
She had to use one of her skirts to dry off. She didnât have any towels, which gave her a new appreciation for terry cloth. Her skin was still damp, making it a challenge to pull on a pair of cutoffs and the tank top she normally reserved for yoga class. But if Keith had come back, she didnât want to miss him.
âLet it be him,â she mumbled, and hurried to the door.
It wasnât Keith; it was Rafe. He kept turning upâbut then that was to be expected. They were living next door to each other and were currently the only occupants of Smugglerâs Cove. There was bound to be some interaction. Besides, she couldnât consider his appearance a bad thing. Since sheâd have to humble herself and ask for a hand with the furniture, this would give her the perfect opportunity. She just wished heâd come fifteen or twenty minutes later. Sheâd scrambled out of the shower so fast she hadnât put on a bra or combed her hair, which was sopping wet.
Cracking open the door, she stood in the gap. âHello.â
He was freshly showered, tooâbut further along in the