Cole opened his mouth, and she pointed at him. “I’m not done. You asked me why I ended up here in Lucky Harbor. My on-set tutor was from here. Mrs. Henderson.”
“Oh!” Lucille stood up on her chair and waved her arm to catch their attention. “A wonderful woman, and a dear friend. You were lucky to have her, honey.”
“I was,” Olivia agreed, not taking her eyes off Cole. “Lucky Harbor was her favorite subject. She told me all about it: the gorgeous Olympic Mountains, the pier, the Ferris wheel, the arcade, the people…especially the people, how you all loved each other, looked out for each other, always. Living here became a fantasy of mine,” she admitted softly. “One that got me through some pretty hard times.”
Cole started to stand up, and she pointed at him again. “Don’t,” she said. “I’m not done. You’re the guy who’s known for fixing whatever’s broken, and I admire that skill. I was just trying to do the same—to myself. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone in the process. I’m sorry about that, so sorry. And I get that regrets are a dime a dozen, and hindsight’s twenty-twenty, but I can’t undo it, Cole. And if I’m being honest, I should tell you…I’m not even sure I would if I could. Because when I first arrived, I promised myself a clean start. At first, I thought of it as creating a person, a character to play, because that was all I knew how to do. But you know what? This person I made up?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “She’s actually me. The real me. So you either like that person, or you don’t. I’m never going to be Sharlyn again, not even for you, Cole.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and headed out.
The next day matched Cole’s mood. According to his phone, Lucky Harbor was on storm watch, expecting the storm of the year later that night.
He pulled on his running gear and hit the pavement for a long, punishing run through town, past the pier, the diner, the bar, the firehouse…the art gallery.
Lucille was out front, struggling with a string of lights that she was trying to remove from her mailbox.
“You’re going to pretend not to see me, aren’t you?” she said, her voice easily carrying on the damp, salty air.
“Thinking about it,” he admitted.
She smiled. She was wearing bright red lipstick and a neon yellow tracksuit that said PINK across her sunken-in chest. She was barely taller than the mailbox and she was going to kill herself unstringing those lights. “Want to bring them in before the storm hits,” she said.
Shit.
He stopped.
“Aw, you’re a sweet boy,” she said, and had to reach up to pat him on the shoulder. “A little slow, but sweet.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“The sweet part’s a compliment,” she said innocently.
“Uh-huh.”
“In fact, maybe you’re sweet enough to help some of my friends, who’d love to have their chores handled by Captain Hottie as well?” She took in his expression and grimaced. “I don’t have that much power, huh?”
“God doesn’t have that much power,” he said.
“Hey, it was worth a shot. Listen, honey, I don’t mean to pry, but—” She broke off when he snorted, and she smiled. “Okay, so I do mean to pry, and we all know it. But about you and Olivia—”
His smile faded. “I’m not going to discuss it,” he said. “She had her reasons for what she did to me.”
“Actually, I wanted to discuss what you did to her.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you didn’t listen very well when she tried to talk to you, and also, you let her put it all on the line and then you didn’t reel her in. And here I thought you were the fisherman.” She tsked.
“She lied to me.”
Lucille laughed. Laughed. And then she patted him on the arm as if to say You poor, stupid, penis-carrying idiot.
“Can I make a suggestion?” she asked.
“Could I stop you?”
She flashed another smile. “Why don’t you make use of the World Wide Web on the matter?”
“The World Wide Web.”
“Yes,” she said. “Or as you youngsters call it these days, the ‘Internet.’” She added air quotes.
And when he just stared at her, she sighed. “You know,” she said, “for research?”
“And what might I be researching?”
“Why, Olivia’s illustrious past, silly. The one that made you so upset.” She gave him a light smack on the chest. “Listen, I don’t want to be presumptuous, but you should consider taking some vitamins to keep your mind sharp. You’re losing your edge, boy.”
And with that sage advice, she gave him one last teacher-to-errant-pupil look and then turned and walked inside her gallery.
Leaving him standing there wondering, What the fuck? Shaking his head, he headed back to his place, where he showered and got into his truck.
He needed to get the hell out of the Twilight Zone.
He needed answers.
And he wasn’t going to find them on the “World Wide Web,” either.
Chapter 30
Cole headed south. It was four hours to Salem, Oregon, but that suited him just fine. He needed to think.
Halfway there, the weather turned to shit as promised. According to the insanely cheerful weatherman on the radio, Cole was heading directly into a nasty, temperamental weather system that was sporting for a fight.