Free Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) by Sophie Moss Page B

Callahan said, a warning in his voice as he strode out of the café. Taking Jimmy’s elbow, he steered him toward the steps. “Becca’s right. It’s time for you to go home.”
    Jimmy jerked his arm free and Ryan pushed him, hard, toward the stairs. Jimmy stumbled, hiccupped, then burst out laughing as he looped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “How about a game of pool at Rusty’s?”
    “Sure,” Ryan murmured. “Right after I shove you off the pier to sober you up.”
    Joe Dozier, Della’s husband, peeled off from the group of watermen and followed Ryan to lend a hand. The rest of the islanders watched them go with a mixture of pity and disapproval on their faces. All except for one man—Becca’s father—who was staring down into his soda, his head bent in shame, unable to even look at the spectacle Jimmy was making of himself.
    Because that had been him once.
    “How about a cup of coffee?” Annie suggested lightly from behind her. “I just powered up the espresso machine.”
    Becca shook her head. She didn’t need a cup of coffee. What she needed was for Jimmy to quit drinking and take care of Luke, for Tom to stop bailing on her, and for the board to drop their threat to close the school.
    She looked back at Luke, who was standing now, unsure of what to do as he watched Jimmy walk away. Becca pushed off the railing, starting toward the steps.
    Shelley stopped her. “I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll tell Luke to come up to the porch and have something to eat with us.”
    Becca nodded, still so angry she could hardly speak. Spotting her best friend, Grace Callahan at the other end of the porch, Becca strode over to her. “We need to talk,” she said, motioning for her friend to follow her around the side of the wraparound porch so the rest of the islanders couldn’t hear them.
    “What’s up?” Grace asked.
    Becca paused under a beam covered in wind chimes made of tinted sea glass. “What do you know about Lydia Vanzant?”
    “Nick Foley’s ex-wife?”
    Becca nodded. She didn’t care if Shelley thought their chances of saving the school were almost nonexistent. There was no way she was going to let a woman with an axe to grind against her ex-husband use them in some petty game of revenge.
    Grace Callahan was one of the top political reporters for The Washington Tribune , the largest newspaper in D.C. If anyone could dig up information on the governor’s former spouse, it would be Grace.
    “Not that much,” Grace said. “I mean, I know she had a hell of a reputation as a public school administrator, but you probably know more about that than I do. Other than that, I haven’t read anything about her in years—at least not since the divorce. Why? What’s going on?”
    “I’m not sure yet.”
    A child’s laughter drifted in from the yard, and they both turned, watching Della adjust Taylor’s flower crown so it wouldn’t slip into her eyes while she filled her plate with food.
    “Would you let me know if you hear anything, or see her name mentioned anywhere?” Becca asked.
    “Sure,” Grace said. “Is there anything in particular you want me to keep an eye out for?”
    “No,” Becca said as sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the side of the café. “But feel free to dig as deep as you want.”

 

     
    C olin drove through Severna Park, the affluent suburb north of Annapolis where he’d lived as a child. Waterfront estates sat back on sprawling lawns, surrounded by manicured gardens and hundred-year-old shade trees. Long paved driveways were filled with expensive cars, most likely belonging to family members who’d gathered together for the Easter holiday. In a few of the yards, children chased each other around, laughing and scouring the ground for eggs.
    When he felt the familiar tug of longing for a family of his own, he clamped down on it. It had been over a year since he’d let his mind wander down that path. Holidays had always had