Read Online Driftwood Summer by Patti Callahan Henry - Free Book Online
Authors: Patti Callahan Henry
Tags: Fiction, Family Life
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wandered the beach and partied with friends, miserable because her first real love, Mack Logan, had not returned for her as he’d promised. The last summer in Palmetto Beach had culminated in a night of losing her virginity with her best friend’s fiancé, Tucker Morgan, in the vacant Driftwood Cottage. Maybe she’d been looking for an excuse to leave Palmetto Beach; if so, she’d sure as hell given herself one. She’d done a terrible thing, and exile, self-imposed, was part penance, part pure running away.
Funny thing, she’d assumed the deed would eventually catch up with her. She didn’t expect she’d be the one returning to the scene of her disgrace.
The plane skidded to a stop on the runway. Maisy was the last to disembark, allowing the other passengers out while she gathered her belongings. She dragged her carry-on down the aisle, then stopped outside the gate to call Peter before she faced her sister downstairs at the luggage carousel. Her cell phone was crammed into the bottom of her purse, and she sat on a chair while she dug it out. She dialed his number and held her breath. This was always the moment when her stomach clenched and her heart raced—would he answer? Would he be with his wife and pretend it was a business call? Would he be alone and able to speak the words of love she needed to hear?
She’d met Peter at a cocktail party for her friend Andy’s thirtieth birthday. Peter had come up behind her, and when she’d turned, she’d walked right into him. She looked up to his face to apologize and found herself speechless, not because he was more beautiful than any man she’d seen but because of the kind way he smiled down at her. They’d talked for hours that night, and then kept in contact by phone before she realized he was married. She found out when she bumped into a girlfriend at the farmers’ market while shopping for fresh fruit. The friend told her that of course Peter was planning on leaving his wife; he’d told everyone. But he hadn’t left . . . yet.
Maisy had tried numerous times over the past six months to break off the relationship, but her heart wouldn’t allow it. Peter was like an undertow that caught her over and over in the tumult of his words and touch. This was the second time she’d found herself caught in a wild ride of emotions with a married man. After the first one, she’d vowed never again—but this time she was in love before she knew about his wife.
Peter’s kind words, his way of touching her, his knowing just what she needed to hear, pulled her back whenever she tried to walk away. The phone rang until his voice mail picked up. She slammed the cell phone shut and pulled the handle out on her rollaway to head down the hallway. She held her breath as she descended the escalator to the baggage-claim area. Maisy saw Riley before Riley saw her, offering Maisy the chance to take in her sister.
Riley stood near a pillar on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd. When had she lost her athletic, boyish look? When had she grown her blond hair halfway down her back? All this time Maisy had pictured the sister she’d left, not this one standing in the middle of the crowded airport.
Riley had always been the rock of the family. Still was. She made even unwed motherhood look responsible. Anger unwittingly rose inside Maisy. Suddenly she was—once again—irresponsible, young, wild.
With a deep breath, Maisy reminded herself of who she was now : a fabulous interior designer with a lovely, well-furnished apartment overlooking Laguna Bay. She was a capable woman. She had good friends, a creative job, a man who loved her, a full life.
“Maisy!” Riley’s voice sang across the space.
Maisy raised her hand in a greeting, rolled her suitcase off the escalator, where it bumped the edge of the metal railing and tipped. Riley picked it up with one hand, but seemed awkward in her indecision over whether to offer a hug with her free arm. “I thought for a minute you changed
Funny thing, she’d assumed the deed would eventually catch up with her. She didn’t expect she’d be the one returning to the scene of her disgrace.
The plane skidded to a stop on the runway. Maisy was the last to disembark, allowing the other passengers out while she gathered her belongings. She dragged her carry-on down the aisle, then stopped outside the gate to call Peter before she faced her sister downstairs at the luggage carousel. Her cell phone was crammed into the bottom of her purse, and she sat on a chair while she dug it out. She dialed his number and held her breath. This was always the moment when her stomach clenched and her heart raced—would he answer? Would he be with his wife and pretend it was a business call? Would he be alone and able to speak the words of love she needed to hear?
She’d met Peter at a cocktail party for her friend Andy’s thirtieth birthday. Peter had come up behind her, and when she’d turned, she’d walked right into him. She looked up to his face to apologize and found herself speechless, not because he was more beautiful than any man she’d seen but because of the kind way he smiled down at her. They’d talked for hours that night, and then kept in contact by phone before she realized he was married. She found out when she bumped into a girlfriend at the farmers’ market while shopping for fresh fruit. The friend told her that of course Peter was planning on leaving his wife; he’d told everyone. But he hadn’t left . . . yet.
Maisy had tried numerous times over the past six months to break off the relationship, but her heart wouldn’t allow it. Peter was like an undertow that caught her over and over in the tumult of his words and touch. This was the second time she’d found herself caught in a wild ride of emotions with a married man. After the first one, she’d vowed never again—but this time she was in love before she knew about his wife.
Peter’s kind words, his way of touching her, his knowing just what she needed to hear, pulled her back whenever she tried to walk away. The phone rang until his voice mail picked up. She slammed the cell phone shut and pulled the handle out on her rollaway to head down the hallway. She held her breath as she descended the escalator to the baggage-claim area. Maisy saw Riley before Riley saw her, offering Maisy the chance to take in her sister.
Riley stood near a pillar on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd. When had she lost her athletic, boyish look? When had she grown her blond hair halfway down her back? All this time Maisy had pictured the sister she’d left, not this one standing in the middle of the crowded airport.
Riley had always been the rock of the family. Still was. She made even unwed motherhood look responsible. Anger unwittingly rose inside Maisy. Suddenly she was—once again—irresponsible, young, wild.
With a deep breath, Maisy reminded herself of who she was now : a fabulous interior designer with a lovely, well-furnished apartment overlooking Laguna Bay. She was a capable woman. She had good friends, a creative job, a man who loved her, a full life.
“Maisy!” Riley’s voice sang across the space.
Maisy raised her hand in a greeting, rolled her suitcase off the escalator, where it bumped the edge of the metal railing and tipped. Riley picked it up with one hand, but seemed awkward in her indecision over whether to offer a hug with her free arm. “I thought for a minute you changed
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