But it was too late. A white SUV had just pulled to a stop and parked in the space to the right of my car. Ami Dubois—or rather Ami Dubois-Hensley—opened the driver’s side door. As she began to fumble with one of those oversized golf umbrellas, it was clear, despite her seated position and long raincoat, that she was very pregnant. Guess she and Sean Hensley, friends of mine from the past, had decided it was finally time to start a family. Truthfully, it surprised me they’d waited this long.
Five years had passed since I’d last seen Sean and Ami, having attended their wedding in Harbour Falls. At the time we’d all been twenty-two years old and freshly graduated from college—me from Yale, and Sean and Ami from the University of Maine.
How time flew.
A twinge of sorrow tugged at my heart as I recalled how their wedding was the first major event I’d attended with Julian, a man with whom I ended up spending six years of my life. Of course we’d just been starting out back then. And now it was all over. Back in May we’d decided to go our separate ways. People change over time, sometimes drifting in different directions without ever realizing it. Until it’s too late.
Ami’s sudden rap on my driver’s side window tore me from my ruminations. I yanked at the belt of the black trench coat I was wearing, tightening it, as the thin material of the wrap dress I wore underneath would offer little respite from the cold and rain.
I opened the car door, and Ami, stepping back, smiled warmly and tilted the umbrella so I could slip underneath it. “Maddy, it’s been too long. God, how have you been?”
“Good,” I replied. “Just trying to adjust to this weather.”
Her pale blue eyes scanned down my form. “Well, you look amazing. I was so excited when Mayor Fitch…uh, I mean, your dad called and said you were moving back.”
Somehow balancing the umbrella in such a way as to keep us dry, she pulled me in for an awkward one-armed hug. Her swollen tummy pressed against my slender frame for a moment, until she drew away.
“It’s great to see you too,” I said. “But I’m not moving back permanently, you know. It’s just for a few months.” To keep the conversation from delving into exactly why I was back for such a specific amount of time, I motioned to her stomach. “Congratulations, by the way. My dad didn’t say anything about—”
“Oh, Maddy, I am so excited,” Ami interrupted. “Only one more month.”
She rubbed her stomach, her hand gliding over the big, clear buttons on her powder-blue raincoat. Standing there—ash-blond hair cascading down her shoulders in big, bouncy curls and a smile as vibrant as ever—Ami radiated happiness.
I’d forgotten how pretty she was, and pregnancy certainly agreed with her. Truly pleased for my once dear friend, I said, “How’s Sean? Thrilled, I bet.”
“Very.”
“Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
“Um, no.” Ami hesitated and pressed her lips together. She took an inordinate amount of time to adjust the umbrella to block the swirling winds that were starting to kick up all around us, and added flatly, “We’d rather be surprised.”
“Oh,” I said slowly, “OK.”
An awkward silence ensued, and we both watched as a fast-food wrapper of some sort blew by us. It adhered to the trunk of my car, and Ami reached to snatch it up. “Nice car,” she murmured, crumpling the wrapper in her palm and dragging a finger through the beading raindrops. “Sean would love a BMW.”
There was something in her tone, something that made me feel self-conscious. Being a best-selling author of several novels allowed me to enjoy perks, such as my burgundy M6, back in Los Angeles. Flashy sports cars were a dime a dozen in California. But I’d forgotten, the people from this part of my life remembered me best as quiet, unassuming Madeleine Fitch—daughter of beloved and low-key widower, Mayor William V. Fitch.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I shifted away, shivering as icy raindrops began to pelt the back of my head.
Ami stuffed the crumpled wrapper in her raincoat pocket and said, “Uh, we should start over to the ferry. Jennifer is expecting us by two.” And just like that, everything was back to normal.
Jennifer Weston and her cousin, Brody, owned the only two passenger ferries that operated out of Cove Beach. During the summer, in addition to the usual service, the Westons offered whale-watching excursions, usually for tourists passing through on the much less-traveled route to Canada. Or sometimes folks would venture up from Bar Harbor to explore this quiet little area, since it was relatively close. Not to mention somewhat infamous. But now that we were well into September, there’d be no whale watchers, no curiosity seekers. The ferries would be used strictly as transportation between Harbour Falls and my destination today, Fade Island.
A rocky and rugged landmass, mostly covered in thick, impenetrable forests, the island was located several miles from the mainland. While the eastern half remained untouched wilderness, the western half had seen its share of development over the years. Long ago a tiny fishing village had sprung up near the docks, and several Cotswold-style cottages were built to house the fishermen and their families.
Over time those early settlers dispersed, and the state had the cottages converted into rental properties. When I was growing up in Harbour Falls, it was not uncommon for families to spend at least a part of their summer vacation over on Fade Island. But I’d never been there. Not once. Eventually, as the residents of Harbour Falls expanded their vacation horizons, fewer and fewer people came to the island, and the cottages soon fell into disrepair.
But
