waited. Solid. Strong. Sure. Then Alonso made an impatient sound, swore—under his breath, because swearing was against the rules of the house—and headed back up the shallow steps and inside the massive doorway. Delaney watched him go. Saw the way he curtailed his long-legged stride to accommodate Caitlin’s shorter, somewhat waddling one.
Along with relief was a sense of loss. Alonso had become a large part of her life. Right or wrong, he was more than a patient to her. But she couldn’t handle him alone, and something had to be done. He was too young to be left to his own devices. He needed a home.
Hopefully, Castillo House would provide what she couldn’t.
She glanced up at Logan. He hadn’t said a word about Sam’s outrageous announcement after kissing her, and she was grateful. “I know you don’t really have room for him, yet, with your renovations still underway. But I appreciate it. He really needed to get away from his usual crowd.”
“Long as your boy toes the line, we’ll get along fine,” Logan said. Then his hard face softened, making him look immeasurably younger, when a slender woman with a mass of blond curls stopped next to him, sliding her arm through his. Annie Drake.
“Alonso will be fine.” Annie smiled far more easily than did her husband. “And we do appreciate the—”
Delaney waved away the thanks before Annie could finish. She didn’t want to advertise the donation she’d arranged for Castillo House. “We can keep that between us.” What her mother had donated would go a little way toward the renovations the big old house still required. A little way toward making the physical space necessary for another person. Like Alonso. Which made having to approach her mother for funds worth it. Just because Delaney had loathed having to do so, her mother’s donation had been just one more in a long line of charitable causes she thoughtlessly supported, meaning nothing more nor less than if Delaney had been a stranger.
“Secrets have a way of coming out, Delaney. Sometimes it’s better all around to put everything out on the table.”
Delaney didn’t know if that was a reference to her and Sam’s history, or not. But there was nothing in Annie’s expression that Delaney could take exception to.
She was just feeling defensive.
Because of Sam.
“Um, you’re…Delaney. Right?”
A young woman had approached. Why not? For all the attention Sam had thrown her way, she might have been the circus come to town. “Yes.”
“I’m Janie Vega.”
Something indefinable curled through Delaney. So she’d meet some of Sam’s family after all. “You’re Sam’s sister.” Timid, she thought, as she looked for some resemblance between the girl and Sam. They had the same dark eyes, but that seemed to be all. “He told me about you.”
“I wish we could say the same about you.”
Maybe not so timid, after all, Delaney thought, eyeing Janie’s crossed arms. Logan and Annie murmured excuses and moved off with no small amount of haste. “I’m sorry,” she told Janie.
“Why? Sam’s the one who’s been keeping his mouth shut all this time.” Her voice was tart. “Ironic, considering how he feels about deception.”
Could this get any worse? Sam should have been the one to soothe his sister’s hurt feelings. “Well, really, Sam and I, we weren’t together very long. And it was a few years ago.”
“But,” Janie’s expression faltered a little, “he said you are his wife.”
“Was,” Delaney assured gently.
“You’re more forgiving than I am if you think that’s an adequate excuse for his behavior.”
There was nothing suitable or otherwise that Delaney could say. Janie seemed to realize it. “Where are you staying tonight?” she asked.
The trip to Turnabout had taken longer than Delaney expected. Their flight from New York had been late arriving in San Diego, which meant they’d missed the regular ferry that ran twice a day. She’d had to hire a charter. Which was definitely a glorified term for the rough-riding bucket that had carried her and Alonso from the mainland to the tiny island of Turnabout.
She’d strongly entertained the idea of waiting until morning before finishing the journey. But her desire to get it over with had overridden her common sense. It would’ve been smarter to wait. Then she’d have been assured of a way off the island.
Now, she had a hotel room all reserved in San Diego that was going begging. “I hadn’t planned to stay on Turnabout,” she admitted. She didn’t enjoy being caught unprepared. “Is there a hotel here?”
“Maisy Fielding has an inn. Called Maisy’s Place. She has several guest cottages, too. But she’s full up. I help out there when she’s particularly busy.” Janie lifted an arm, encompassing the crowd. “A lot of people came over to celebrate the first anniversary of Castillo House. But Sam has an extra room,” Janie continued. “Etta does, too, but my father is using it now that he’s home again.”
“Etta?”
“Our grandmother. Henrietta Vega.”
“Right.” Surreal, indeed. Delaney looked around at the partyers. She was aware of Janie watching her closely.
It felt as if everyone was watching her closely. Too closely. She much preferred to focus her attention on others than to have that focus turned the other way around.
Sam had an extra room. Delaney wasn’t so much interested in that as she was interested in what had possessed Sam to say the words he had.
My wife.
What purpose had that served? None. And she wanted to tell him so. She wanted him to understand—fully and completely—that she was no basket case. That she was moving on, just as she’d told him. Thoughtfully, intelligently, dispassionately. What she wanted now were common interests, common goals, a common purpose.
Things she and Sam had never had.
Except in bed.
She ignored the taunting whisper inside her head. The bedroom could break a relationship, but it was rare when it could make one. She and Sam were no exception to that.
“Perhaps you could tell me how to get to his house,” she suggested. She’d tell him what she thought of his little “act” and she’d leave the ring. Once and for all, end of story.
Janie looked clearly relieved. “It’s on the other end of the island, actually. I’ll get Leo’s cart and drive you over.”
“Cart?”
“His golf cart. I don’t have a car. Most of us don’t. But it’s a long walk from here to there.”
Delaney rubbed her forehead. She didn’t have a car, either. Because she lived in the city. The city. The big apple. Born and raised.
“Delaney? Ready?” Janie was eyeing her.
Oh, Delaney was too tired. She nodded. She’d have agreed to just about anything to get away from the curious stares she was still getting.
The golf cart sat outside the high iron fence that surrounded the Castillo House property. Delaney climbed onto the narrow front seat and grabbed on with a death grip when it lurched forward. Janie buzzed down the bumpy road, seemingly unconcerned by the absolute and utter darkness as they left behind the lights of the party.
No matter how dark, the rush of wind through the open cart still felt heavenly against Delaney’s heated skin.
When Janie finally slowed the cart to a halt, it was in front of a sprawling, darkened house. “It doesn’t look like your brother is here.” Probably avoiding her, if for no other reason than to annoy her. He’d always been exceptionally adept in that area.
“Doesn’t matter,” Janie