“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Ash nodded politely in their direction, then grinned at Rowan again. “So I’ll see you in town today?”
Rowan tipped her head to the side, completely aware that he was flirting with her. She couldn’t say she minded one bit. “Anything is possible.”
He chuckled. “Good. Then you’ll let me take you to dinner. I think we need to start over. What do you think?”
Rowan had never known how to look more cool than she felt, and now was no exception—the delight was spreading across her cheeks like a bad case of heat rash. He wanted a do over! Oh, thank God! She’d been right—he felt the way she did! “I would happily accept your invitation, but all our restaurants are closed on Island Day. Everyone’s busy operating their food tents.”
“All right.” Ash didn’t seem deterred. “Then I’ll take you to the finest food tent on Bayberry Island, and we’ll get started on starting over.”
“It’s a date.”
“I look forward to it.” Ash leaned down and left a very quick, infinitely sweet kiss on her cheek. “See you soon.”
Rowan watched him walk from the dining room, tall, back straight, shoulders solid, engaging in a last bit of friendly—but not too friendly—banter with the nudists. Then he disappeared into the main entry hall and headed toward the front door. She heard the heavy iron latch close behind him.
She had no idea how long she stood there, motionless, her fingers pressed to the place on her cheek where he’d kissed her. However long it had been, it had been too long.
Not only were the nudists staring at her, but Zophie was, too, along with every guest still lingering in the dining room.
* * *
“Gather ’round, ye ’maids. Get your coffee and let’s do this.” Mona gestured for the group to choose a seat on her sectional sofa or the dining room chairs scattered throughout the living room. She opened her three-ring binder to their Island Day schedule.
Once everyone was settled, Mona didn’t waste any time. “Darinda has offered to help me with the ‘Save Our Island’ campaign today, so I expect everyone else to chip in with Mermaid Society work.”
When she didn’t receive any response, she glanced around, immediately alarmed by the energy in the room—or lack thereof. “How is everyone this morning?” She heard nothing but a few grunts and grumbles in response. “This doesn’t bode well for our busy day ahead, does it?”
“Did you know that the word ‘bode’ is from Old English and is considered an archaic verb form?” Izzy McCracken sipped daintily from her coffee mug before she continued. “It’s almost as outdated as ‘presage’ and ‘augur.’”
No one said anything for a good ten seconds. Not surprisingly, Polly Estherhausen took it upon herself to break the silence. “Oh, my flippin’ God,” she said.
Abigail Foster was next. “Look, I’m already exhausted and we’ve got five more days of this. The sun was so hot yesterday, I thought the acrylic in my wig was going to melt.”
Mona sighed deeply. She loved these women, no matter how annoying they could be. They had known each other forever. And that was the problem.
“I fear for the future of the Bayberry Island Mermaid Society.” There. Mona had said it. It was what everyone was thinking anyway.
Silence.
She looked around the room at the faces of her friends. Most everyone was on the downhill side of forty and some, like Mona herself, were past sixty. All of them had faces that had been lived in and bodies that had served them well on land and in the water. Only a few still had teenagers at home. About half of them had lost husbands to death or divorce. They’d been through everything together over the years—bankruptcy, illness, hurricanes, children who ran away or got pregnant or mixed up in drugs, career crises, menopause, brief and unhappy relocations to the mainland, and defections to the Fairy Brigade. Mona couldn’t blame her friends for being worn out. They were entitled. There was only one problem . . .
No one was waiting to fill their fins.
None of Bayberry’s younger women had the slightest interest in carrying on the sacred rituals that had been passed down through generations of island women since 1888. Up until now, it had been an unbroken thread of oral tradition and shared understanding. And Mona knew that unless something drastic happened, their circle of female power and magic would cease to exist as soon as they did.
As sad as it was to admit, that grumbling Mona just heard was likely the Mermaid Society’s death rattle.
“Maybe we should just get our assignments for today,” Layla O’Brien said. “It’s already after nine, so whoever has the first shift at the booth has less than an hour to get in costume and get all the materials in order.”
“I’ll volunteer for the first shift,” Abby said.
“Thank you. I’ll put you with Polly.” Mona began writing names in the two-hour time slots for the booth. “Remember our recruiting efforts, ladies. Who knows when a tourist might decide to permanently relocate. One of them might eventually qualify to join our sisterhood. New blood, ladies. Keep your eyes peeled for new blood.”
“Where do things stand with Rowan? Has she shown any sign that she might change her mind one day?”
Mona’s head snapped up at Polly’s question. She blinked, feeling the intense stares of every society member. As she always did when this subject came up, Mona needed to be careful not to reveal the depth of her disappointment show. She wasn’t angry with Rowan for turning her back on the legend. Not at all. But Mona couldn’t let the true depth of her sorrow and confusion show.
The group had messed up, simple as that. They had agreed that the Great Mermaid brought Frederick to Rowan, that he was her true heart-mate. Boy, had they had been wrong. And that could mean only one of two things: Either the Great Mermaid had erred or the humans had. After a great deal of debate, their verdict was they must have lacked a piece of information necessary for an accurate interpretation, and they misread the signs. The fault was theirs alone.
Mona reached for her coffee, knowing in her heart that as the Society’s leader—and Rowan’s mother—she was to blame. She’d wanted Rowan’s happiness so badly that it had blinded her, and Mona would have to live with that mistake the rest of her life. “She’s not going to change her mind. Not ever. Please don’t ask her to.”
“It’s understandable. Of course it is.” Layla looked down at her tennis shoes, then raised her head, suddenly hopeful. “How about Lena Silva? She’s a kindred spirit. Do you think she’ll be ready soon?”
“Hell, no.” Polly rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “The girl’s a mouse. She never leaves her fortress, just hides in her studio all day every day. Her paintings are as close to the mermaid legend as she’s ever going to get.”
“There’s always Annie.” Izzy tried to sound cheerful. “Now that she has Nat, she might be willing to drop some of her skepticism.”
“Or not.” Polly laughed. “Annie has dissed the mermaid her whole life. You think when we tell her what really happened that night, she’ll believe us? Let’s say we reveal that we performed a winter solstice intervention on her behalf just hours before Nat fell in front of her door. Will she take the leap, or will she brush it off as coincidence?”
“She’ll think it was coincidence.” Abby scowled. “It’s such a cop-out, too. Why do so many people nowadays refuse to see magic when it’s right in front of them? It must be such a dry way to go through life—no mystery, no wonder, nothing more miraculous and powerful than your own tiny, little, small-minded preconceived notions.”
“That was redundant.”
Abby pursed her lips at Izzy. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“‘Tiny, little, and small-minded’—those adjectives all mean the same thing.”
“I gotta get my costume on.” Polly stood. “Are we done here?”
“I just wonder . . .” That was Darinda Darswell. She’d now spoken at two meetings in a row, which was incredible, since she’d said al
most nothing in all the meetings that came before.
“Yes?”
She smiled at Mona, but her eyes were filled with concern. “I wonder if your daughter will ever forgive us.”
“Well, Jesus, Darinda.” Polly shook her head. “It’s not like we set out to hurt her! We adore Rowan. We just wanted her to be happy. We still do.”
The group’s quietest member seemed unwilling to allow Polly to bully her, which delighted Mona. “Go on, Darinda,” she told her.
“Thank you.” She squared her shoulders. “My worry is that Rowan’s been hurt so badly that she won’t open her heart to love again, even when it’s standing right in front of her.”
That was Mona’s worry, too. In fact, every night before she fell asleep, several concerns tortured her enough to keep rest at bay. First, was Duncan safe? Was he even still alive? Where was he? Her worry for her eldest child was a constant, nagging discomfort during the day, but at night it could explode into cold, sharp fear.
Next Mona would worry about whether Clancy would ever find a good woman to share his life with. That boy deserved it. There was a tender heart under his tough exterior.
After that, she would obsess about how long she could muster the courage and energy needed to hold off the Mermaid Island development.
And always, Mona worried about her daughter.
After Rowan’s life fell apart in New York, she graciously had volunteered to run the Safe Haven. Mona had accepted the offer because she believed being close to family would help Rowan heal. Yet lately, she’d noticed how restless Rowan had become. She was often sarcastic and irritable, maybe even downright unhappy. Unfortunately, they were at an impasse.
There was no one else to do the job. Mona’s worsening rheumatoid arthritis meant she could no longer manage the Safe Haven by herself. Frasier was so humiliated by the worn condition of the house that he wanted nothing to do with it. More than once he’d told Mona that he saw the mansion’s decay as a symbol of his family’s precipitous fall. Of course, Clancy had chosen law enforcement as his career, and it was what he was born to do. Duncan was off saving the world, putting as many miles as possible between himself and his home. That meant if Rowan didn’t stay on to run the B and B, they might as well board it up and let it crumble—or sell it to the highest bidder.
For all practical purposes, Rowan was the end of the line. Mona knew that without her daughter’s help, there would be no Safe Haven and no reason to fight the good fight. Unless she stood up to the developers, Bayberry Island would become just another seaside amusement park, an overcrowded, loud, and dirty tourist attraction stripped of everything that made the island magical in the first place. Eventually, the Great Mermaid would be dethroned. She would fade into the background, overshadowed by golfers, yacht owners, and gamblers.
She could not let that happen.
* * *
In the short time Ash had been on Bayberry Island, he’d noticed that each day seemed to have its own unique flavor. Friday had been dramatic and thrilling; Saturday sparkled with anticipation; and today, Island Day, looked like it was an excuse to have a blowout block party.
Main Street was cordoned off and jammed with two opposing lines of open-air tents, their blue, white, and green canvas awnings poking up into the bright sky. Many tents displayed arts-and-crafts stuff like jewelry, clothing, paintings, sculpture, and woodcrafts. There were tents devoted to nothing but cutesy boating accessories, or blown-glass wind chimes, or hand-painted house numbers. The food vendors were too numerous to sort out, but the air was filled with smoke from barbecue pits and fish fries, and Ash could smell everything from funnel cakes to fried clams in the breeze. He’d spied the banner for the chili cook-off already in progress and told himself he’d head over there after he’d located Rowan. The grand-prize winner would be chosen by none other than Mayor Frasier Flynn himself.
Though plenty of revelers had come in costume today, many more had not. The crowd seemed more conservative than on parade day and was made up predominantly of families. Ash guessed that at least some of the more colorful tourists were still sleeping it off after a hard night of partying.
He made his way down the center of the street, doing his best to dodge unsupervised kids with dripping ice-cream cones, teenagers on skateboards, and a few off-leash dogs. He scanned the throng looking for the Safe Haven B and B booth but came to a sudden halt. Right in front of him was a huge red banner in the shape of a stop sign, and in big white letters it said: SAVE OUR ISLAND! STOP GREEDY DEVELOPERS!
“And here we go.” Ash took a deep breath and wandered over. He wasn’t surprised to see Mona Flynn at the helm, but what did surprise him was how attractive she looked in her street clothes. He hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance Friday, probably because he couldn’t see through the downpour and he was in shock from being snatched from the public dock in the Man Grab. Today provided a far more relaxed opportunity to study her. She wore a simple pair of cotton slacks and a crisp blouse of narrow blue stripes. Her hair was cut in a bob and was that striking silver color some older women were lucky to have. Her eyes were pale blue and intense. Rowan had the same heart-shaped chin and pretty mouth.
But Mona was all business that morning, working the crowd like a pro. She forced SAVE OUR ISLAND buttons onto anyone within arm’s reach, chatted up the passersby, and shoved a clipboard at anyone who showed the slightest curiosity about her cause. “If you value your authentic experience here on Bayberry Island, please sign this petition,” she told them. “Don’t forget to put down your e-mail. Thank you so much!”
Ash thought he recognized Mona’s accomplice as one of the mermaids he’d seen gathered around the fountain, but it was impossible to be sure, since she, too, was not in her mermaid outfit. He meandered up to the folding table and tried to look only vaguely interested in the cheaply produced brochures (more brochures!) spread over its surface.
“Thank you for stopping by our tent.”
Ash glanced up. Yes, he’d been correct. He recognized this woman’s dark eyes and pixie face from Friday’s public humiliation. She must have recognized him, too. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened.
“Hello,” Ash said, grabbing a brochure. “What’s all this?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he raised his eyes again. Both Mona and her friend stared at him in surprise. The force of their attention made him vaguely uncomfortable.
“Ashton.” Mona remembered his name. “How nice to see you enjoying yourself today.”
Ash laughed. “Oh, right. You’re the bossy mermaid lady from the other day.”
His comment made Mona’s friend giggle.
“I suppose I deserve that.” She held out her hand. “My name is Mona Flynn, and this is Darinda Darswell. We’re both members of the Bayberry Island Mermaid Society, but today we’re here as citizens defending the authenticity of our home.”
He shook her hand and smiled. “A pleasure, ladies.”
“This is nothing short of the most important issue to face Bayberry Island since the collapse of the fishing industry.” She smacked a button into his palm. “We would appreciate your support.”
“Hmm.” Ash pocketed the button and produced a thoughtful expression but refused to accept the petition Mona now pressed to his chest. “I’ll need to do my own research on the subject before I sign anything. Forgive me, but politics aren’t really my thing.”
Mona snapped her head in surprise. “This isn’t politics. It’s basic decency. It’s taking pride in our island’s history and choosing reality over some theme-park representation of reality. This is about drawing a line in the sand.”
Ash nodded. Damn, this lady is a ballbuster.
“We’ve collected more than ten thousand signatures from locals and tourists since the project was announced last spring.”
Ash crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s impressive.”
“It’s war.”
Ash had been here before. He knew how it would end.
This was such a classic David and Goliath matchup it almost made him feel guilty. Obviously, Mona Flynn was a smart woman and she was plenty fired up—for good reason, he supposed—but Ash knew she’d already lost the war she believed she waged.
He produced a smile and said, “Sounds like you’re making a lot of progress.” He skimmed over the brochure as if it were his introduction to the Mermaid Island plans. “So you’re trying to stop a golf course?”
Mona laughed. “If only that was the extent of it! The company wants to build a huge casino hotel and a marina in addition to the golf course. Their environmental impact assessment was a joke—in fact, it was fixed. So not only would this ruin the island culturally, it would be an environmental disaster as well.”
Ash didn’t need to pretend that her accusation bothered him. He’d glanced at the environmental impact summary Jessop-Riley provided, and he hadn’t seen anything amiss. That said, he knew environmental impact results were subjective and sometimes controversial. But flat-out fixed? He asked himself if Jessop-Riley would go that far, and the answer was—probably. If they could get away with it.
Suddenly, he had a very bad taste in his mouth.
“Did you know that just to the northeast of Bayberry is a unique underwater mountain range called Friendship Ledge?” Mona raised one of her eyebrows as if to challenge him. “Its ridges and basins and mix of currents have created an ideal environment for marine life—all kinds of species congregate there, including endangered North Atlantic right whales and wolffish. It’s also home to one of the largest and deepest cold-water kelp forests on the Eastern Seaboard.”
“Don’t forget the gray seals,” Darinda added. “And the wetlands.”
“Of course.” Mona nodded, continuing on. “And let me assure you, if somehow the developers get away with this bullshit environmental impact study, we plan to fight it. If necessary, we are prepared to testify before the general court in Boston, and we’ve requested a meeting with the governor.”