The Secret Sister

“I’m absolutely serious. I could throw a few rugs on the floor, use the bar near the kitchen window to eat and put a mattress and a chest of drawers in the bedroom. I won’t need much to get by.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Just come home and get it over with. You won’t last two weeks here. Why would you want to be by yourself, anyway, after everything you’ve been through? You were by yourself in New York. If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve stayed there.”

She preferred not to include Rafe in anything too personal, but Keith didn’t seem to have the same reservations. “This is different from the city. I can hear the sea, which reminds me of all the times I played here as a child. And, despite the hurricane damage, Smuggler’s Cove seems...safe in a way no other place does.” She turned to Rafe. “Mr. Romero, would you mind if I moved in? I could fix it up to the best of my ability until you’re ready to start on it. And then I could relocate to a different unit.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” he said, but his words were clipped and he was no longer smiling.

“See?” She looked at Keith. “Mr....”

“At least call me Rafe,” he broke in.

“Okay.” Thanks to the humidity, she was beginning to perspire. She pulled her hair up to get it off her neck. “Rafe here says he can work around me. So...Mom won’t be able to launch that argument.”

“She can launch any argument,” Keith grumbled. “Watch her.”

When her brother walked out onto the porch and leaned on the railing, Maisey glanced at Rafe. “I really won’t be any trouble,” she murmured.

“I’m sure you won’t,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if he was being facetious.

“As soon as you tell me you need to be in here, I’ll get out.”

“Right. If we’re careful, we can avoid each other indefinitely.”

She wanted to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary. She saw no reason they couldn’t continue to be civil if they happened to bump into each other. But she was afraid to start another conversation along those lines with Keith in such close proximity. “I’ll grab my bags from the car. I might as well leave them here while we go over to the house.”

Keith watched from his spot on the porch as she wrestled her heaviest suitcase out of the trunk and dragged it over to the porch steps. He wasn’t happy she was staying, so he didn’t offer to help. Instead, Rafe came down and insisted on carrying her luggage into the cottage. She kept trying to tell him she could manage. It didn’t seem polite to let him do her a favor on the heels of her refusal to go out with him. But he acted as if he didn’t hear her.

“That’s it, then,” she said to Keith when her things were stowed in the otherwise empty bedroom. “We might as well head over to see Mom.” She couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Fun,” he muttered, and started for the car.

She stood on the porch, watching her brother’s retreating back as Rafe locked up.

“Should I bring over a mattress and a few other necessities, like a fridge, and have them here for when you get back?” he asked.

“No, I’ll do that myself.” She had no idea how she’d move something as heavy as a fridge. But she hoped that, between Keith and her, they’d manage. She didn’t want to be a nuisance to Rafe Romero, didn’t want him complaining to her mother. Having to take that into consideration at all bothered her. It was part of the reason she resented the fact that he was living here. She didn’t feel she should have to answer to anyone—not at Smuggler’s Cove.

“It could be dark when you get back to this side of the island,” he said.

She checked her phone—nearly two. “The sun won’t set for another five hours.” She certainly hoped she wouldn’t have to stay at Coldiron House that long.

“I was under the impression you’ve been gone from Fairham for quite a long time.”

“I’m afraid it hasn’t been long enough.”

His expression was inscrutable as he removed a key from his ring and handed it to her. “This will get you in here. Stop by later, and I’ll take you over to Unit 9.”

“Why don’t you give me that key, too? I can put it under your mat when I’m done, if it’s too late to disturb you.”

“Sorry, I’ll need it this afternoon. I’ve stored a lot of my construction materials there.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll slip the key under your mat when I finish up if you’d rather not come to my place.”

“That’ll be ideal. Then I won’t have to interrupt your evening.”

“You wouldn’t want to need anyone,” he said, and went down the stairs before she could respond.

Maisey followed more slowly and joined her brother in the Mercedes.

“What was that all about?” Keith had the air on—thank goodness, because the humidity was even more oppressive than usual for this time of year.

“What?” she replied, preoccupied with Rafe’s last comment. She didn’t want to need anyone. Everyone she’d known had let her down. Her mother had never been someone she could lean on, not emotionally. Her brother didn’t have the strength to keep himself on a productive path, never mind anyone else. Her father had died. And her husband had abandoned her when she needed him most.

“Oh, God, that’s Rafe,” Keith said, mimicking her words from before.

As Rafe’s truck disappeared around the bend, she said, “I’ve met Mom’s contractor before. At a party a long time ago. I didn’t recognize his name because we called him Rafe and not Raphael.”

“Did he remember you?”

“Once I reminded him, yeah.”

“That’s it? You met him at a party years ago and you were that distressed to see him again?”

“I wasn’t distressed,” she lied. “I was surprised.”

Keith looked at her more closely. “Were you two friends?”

“Not at all. He’s four years older. I barely knew him.”

“Did he go to Fairham High?”

“He did. If you hadn’t been away at boarding school, you would’ve been a freshman when he was a junior and probably would’ve known him a lot better than I ever did. He seems nice enough now, though. Is he a good contractor?”

Their tires crunched over the pebbles in the road. “Mom checked him out pretty thoroughly. He comes highly recommended.” He turned onto the paved street. “Speaking of Mom, are you nervous about seeing her?”

She shrugged, pretending she wasn’t, but her heart began to pound faster and faster with each passing mile.

It seemed like only seconds later that they were winding their way to the highest point on the island.

“Pippa’s still there, isn’t she?” Maisey asked.

“I doubt Mom’ll ever let Pippa go,” Keith replied. “She needs her too badly, and they get along quite well. But we have a new groundskeeper.”

“Since when?”

“Since Jorge retired and moved to San Diego three years ago. The new guy’s name is Tyrone.”