LITMIR.BIZ

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“I shouldn’t feel so guilty about this.”

      “It’s your good-girl syndrome taking over.” Avery glanced over her shoulder. “Did anyone follow you?”

      “I don’t think so. For the first time in two weeks, I don’t have that prickly feeling at the back of my neck.”

      “Good.” Throwing an arm around her, Avery led her off the dock and along the boardwalk lining the beach area. “Reese and Jillian are bummed that they can’t be here.”

      Truth told, Naomi was a bit relieved about that. After the hubbub of the past two weeks, she was looking forward to some alone time. Jillian was in Europe on a buying trip, and Reese was on a book tour for a cookbook she’d just authored.

      “My job is to provide all the TLC they can’t shower on you in person. And we’re going to start with a late lunch.”

      “I’m not—”

      “Hungry. I know. I know.” His tone of voice all sympathy, Avery nevertheless propelled her into a small café on the pier that offered patio seating. “Humor me. Once we get to the hotel, I figure you’ll lay low in the tower, and I’ll be working.”

      He pulled a chair out for her at a table that offered a view of the water. At the far end of the island, on a jut of land, she could just see the tower of Haworth House. The tightness inside of her eased.

      Avery sat down across from her. “I figure you lost your appetite just about two weeks ago when the BFJ gave you your walking papers.”

      “BFJ?”

      “Big Fat Jerk. When I was getting over Lowell Bidderman, I didn’t eat much of anything for nearly a month.” He flexed his right arm. “Lost some good muscle tone.”

      Naomi narrowed her eyes. As far as she knew, Avery had been in a relationship with his current partner, Matt Trudell, since his college days. “Lowell Bidderman?”

      “Junior high. I must have been fourteen. Lowell was my first love, and the reason I discovered I was gay at an early age. But I was afraid to say anything, even to Lowell. In junior high I felt I had to at least pass as a heterosexual. Do you remember your first crush?”

      She did, and for a second, Naomi felt heat rise in her face again.

      “You’re blushing,” Avery said. “That good, huh?”

      She waved a hand. “It was a crush. All fantasy and no substance.”

      “The best kind.” Avery grinned. “Tell me.”

      She’d never told anyone.

      “Confession is good for the soul,” Avery urged.

      “It’s silly. Not even Reese and Jillian know. But when I was fourteen, I had this super crush on a young priest who’d been assigned to our boarding school.”

      “Really?” Avery’s eyes lit up. “Shades of The Thorn-birds. The young innocent girl, the handsome caring priest, forbidden love … all set against the rugged landscape of Australia. Adored the novel. And Richard Chamberlain in the movie—be still my heart.”

      Naomi nodded, relaxing a bit when she saw that he wasn’t shocked. “Exactly. I’d bought the book and smuggled it into the dorm. I read it by flashlight under the covers. I loved it.”

      “Forbidden treats are always so much more delicious. Tell me more about this priest.”

      Naomi spread her hands. “Father Bouchard was assigned to the school. He was young, probably in his early twenties. He was so kind, and he was such a good listener. I could talk to him about anything. I fell hopelessly in love. I used to write about him in my diary every day, and then I would dream about him every night.”

      And a year ago after she’d opened up that parchment in Hattie Haworth’s boudoir and the message had been indelibly printed on her mind, she’d unearthed those diaries and reread every one.

      “Details. Give me the details. Did you ever actually do it with the priest—in your dreams?”

      Heat burned her cheeks again. She’d fantasized about doing a lot of things—not just in her dreams, but in her diaries, too. “What do you think? I’d read The Thornbirds.”

      “Atta girl. Did you ever tell him what you were feeling?”

      Her eyes widened in shock. “No. Of course not. It was all fantasy. Pure fantasy.”

      “Just like me and Lowell. Except for the priest part.”

      She nodded. Except for the priest part. But the priest part had definitely been on the piece of parchment she’d pulled out of Hattie’s hatbox. Now you will experience all of those forbidden pleasures…. And that was what had motivated her to reread the diaries she’d written at fourteen. Then she noticed the expression on Avery’s face. “What?”

      “Just thinking. You know, there’s a priest, a Father Dane MacFarland, who’s due to check in to Haworth House today.”

      “Avery, you can’t be—”

      He raised both hands, palms outward. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just providing information. Besides, he may be eighty and using a walker.”

      He accepted a menu from the waitress and flashed her a smile. “We’ll have your best bottle of champagne and four lobster rolls.”

      “Champagne?” Naomi echoed.

      He turned his smile on her. “Sisters’ orders. My mission is to get you from mourning into celebratory mode ASAP. Before anyone finds you here.”

      “My sisters are being pushy.”

      Avery’s brows shot up. “Turnabout’s fair play. You’ve been taking care of them and pushing them for a long time.”

      Her lips curved.

      Avery patted her hand. “That’s better. They’re annoyed that they can’t talk to you in person. But since we’re pretty sure your phone is being tapped, they want you to have as much privacy here as you can get.”

      “We were careful not to mention Haworth House when we talked. We have this code we’ve used since we were kids.”

      “Right.” Avery raised both hands and wiggled his fingers. “They’re being very cloak-and-daggerish with me, too, using pay phones and only contacting me on my private line at the hotel.”

      Naomi sighed. “It’s not going to take a Sherlock Holmes to trace me here.”

      Avery shrugged. “Hey, if using codes and pay phones makes your sisters feel like they’re helping, I say it’s a good thing. And who knows? Might buy you twenty-four to forty-eight hours of privacy.”

      The waitress arrived and began the uncorking ritual. Once she’d filled the glasses, Avery raised his. “To the new Naomi Brightman.”

      Naomi blinked. “I’ll be perfectly happy to get the old one back.”

      “I assumed that old Naomi’s bridges are pretty much burned.”

      “And then some. But there’s got to be something I can do to fix that. I haven’t let myself think about it.” She lifted her glass thoughtfully and her gaze shifted beyond his shoulder to Haworth House. Something inside of her stirred. “I have a feeling that I’ll figure something out while I’m here.”

      “Good plan. All I’m saying is that you should keep your options open. You don’t necessarily have to return to your life BMD.”

      “Before Michael Davenport.”

      He grinned at her. “You’re catching on, sugar. When one door slams shut, another one always opens. Hattie Haworth reinvented herself here. You might as well give it a shot, too. So I’ll drink to the new Naomi Brightman.”

      “Cheers,” Naomi said, and they

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