“Please don’t treat her harshly,” Mary said when the man had finished. “She’s truly suffered in her life, and she has her reasons for blaming me.”
“That may be,” Trey said, “but vandalism is still a criminal act.”
“You’re so rich,” Imogene snarled at Mary. “Why don’t you share it?”
Mary drew in her breath. It felt fruitless to explain yet again why she wouldn’t give Imogene money, how Imogene had squandered the money she’d inherited on drugs and alcohol rather than using it to fix her life.
“Mary does share, every day,” Drew Martin said. “We have a new museum in town because of her.”
“And the Healing Heroes cottage,” someone else said.
How had that become common knowledge?
“She donates plenty to cancer causes,” Amber said. “She’s done so much for this town. She’s incredibly generous.”
Mary’s face heated and she waved a hand. “Don’t,” she said. “I do what I can, but so does everyone else in Pleasant Shores.”
Imogene stared at her, her face seemingly frozen in hostile lines. And then, suddenly, it crumpled a little, and her eyes got shiny with tears. “Why does everyone love you? You’re just a rich old lady.” For just a moment, genuine longing came into her voice. “How’d you get past what happened, when I couldn’t?”
Mary studied her as the past thirty minutes replayed in her mind, nudging in all kinds of new awareness. She was loved. Despite all her flaws and mistakes, this community had embraced her. “I’m rich in friends and love,” she said, gesturing at the listening group of people. “That matters more.”
Imogene snorted. “You sound just like Dad.”
Mary pictured Ben’s kind face. “That’s a huge compliment,” she said quietly. “Your father was the best man I ever knew.”
“He was,” Imogene said, and suddenly, she sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking. “It’s my fault,” she moaned, rocking back and forth. “My fault.”
Mary knelt beside her. “It’s not your fault. Not even a little.”
“But I called him,” Imogene choked out. “I called him on his car phone and begged him to come home, and he did. And that’s why...” Her words ended in a wail and she buried her face in her hands.
Mary sank the rest of the way down to the floor, feeling like she couldn’t continue kneeling without falling over. “You called him? You didn’t tell the police that. Are you sure you’re remembering right?”
“I was afraid I’d get in trouble and be blamed,” she sobbed. “So I lied.”
Mary closed her eyes and put a hand on Imogene’s shaking shoulder. If Imogene was telling the truth now, it would explain so much. Why Ben had returned so quickly. Why her mobster first husband had suddenly left her alone. In fact, he’d died soon after the incident, leaving Mary all of his wealth.
She’d never understood how he could put a hit on his own child. But if he’d intended it to be for Mary, who’d betrayed him by marrying someone else, or more likely for Ben alone...and then he’d found out he’d caused Daisy’s death... She felt her shoulders sag as the pieces finally fell into place.
“Even if you called and caused your dad to turn around and come home,” she said, leaning close to Imogene, her words for her stepdaughter alone. “Even if you did that, that doesn’t mean your dad’s death was your fault. It was the fault of the man who hit them with his car. And the fault of the person who hired him to do that.”
Imogene had gone still as she was speaking, clearly listening.
“You just did what any teenager might have done.” And, Mary realized dimly, she herself had just done what any confused young wife might have done.
They’d both paid dearly for their mistakes, if they even were mistakes. They’d just handled their guilt differently—Imogene by ruining her own life and now trying to ruin Mary’s, Mary by endlessly working to make amends.
“Come on,” the uniformed officer said to Imogene. “We’re taking you in. You can come peacefully, or not, your choice.”
Imogene let out a sound almost like a growl, but walked along with the officer toward the door, the crowd of people parting to let them through.
After she left, Amber put a hand on Mary’s arm. “Will you stay? Keep Lighthouse Lit open, and keep living here with your neighbors and friends?”
Mary looked around at the group of townspeople, seeing so many beloved faces. It would be hard to leave, harder than she’d realized. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Maybe this will help you think,” Kirk James called from the back of the crowd. His deep voice was accompanied by a little yip, and then Kirk made his way through the crowd to her, holding Coco, now adorned with a big red ribbon around her neck. “I sure hope you’ll take her back. Too much work for me.”
The puppy struggled toward Mary, and Kirk set it in her arms. She cuddled it close, and as Coco licked her face, she let a few happy tears fall.
She wasn’t going to make any rash promises. She still had to think things through. But she felt safe, as if all these people’s caring had wrapped her in a warm embrace. That was worth changing her mind for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PAUL HELD DAVEY’S HAND and looked around the loud gathering of happy, slightly intoxicated people, all talking and laughing and hugging and kissing, and feared he’d made a mistake.
A Christmas Eve gathering at Bisky’s big, rambling waterfront house was not the romantic setting he’d have preferred for what he was about to do.
He’d proposed to Wendy on the couch. But when he’d consulted Trey about how he could go big with this proposal, in order to make up to Amber for all the mistakes he’d made, Trey had insisted that Amber would love being asked for her hand at a party. When Paul had expressed his doubts, Trey had called Erica, who knew her sister better than anyone else, and she’d concurred.
As a
