An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(46)

She wandered till she found herself standing in front of another all-white canvas, thinking while she didn’t completely get the whole white-on-white thing the way the art people seemed to be doing, she did find them soothing, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Maggie? You are Maggie, aren’t you?”

Maggie turned to the voice and found herself face-to-face with Brett Crawford’s wife.

“Maggie, I’m Kayla. Kayla Crawford. We haven’t been introduced, but I know who you are.”

“Oh, well. How are you?” Maggie faked her most pleasant smile. “Enjoying the exhibit? Jessie did some remarkable”—heh—“work, don’t you think?”

“Brett and I are separated. We’re getting a divorce. I just thought you should know.” Kayla Crawford’s expression was unreadable.

“Why are you telling me this, Kayla?” Maggie lowered her voice and tried to move back, away from the displayed paintings, while trying not to appear stunned.

“Because you should know. You’re both free now.” There were tears in her eyes, and Maggie couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Kayla, I don’t know what you’ve heard, or what you believe, or what you think you know . . . ,” Maggie began.

“I know he’s never loved anyone but you.” She spoke the words flatly, as if stating an accepted fact, no accusation intended.

“Why would you think that? He married you.”

“Only because he couldn’t have you. It’s always been you, Maggie. He told me. I heard your husband died. Now you can have mine back. He always belonged to you anyway.”

Before Maggie could respond, Kayla turned her back and left the building.

Puffing her cheeks as if trying to expel a deep breath and compose herself after the unexpected confrontation, Maggie stepped around the crowd to find her way to Emma’s office, in search of a few minutes of solitude to process what had just happened. She opened the door and stepped inside to find Emma seated at her desk and engrossed in a conversation with the man in the navy jacket.

“Oh, Em. Sorry. I didn’t know . . .”

“Maggie, come in. Meet Owen Harrison.” Emma smiled. “Owen, this is my very dear friend, Maggie Flynn. Maggie grew up here in Wyndham Beach, but she’s been living in Pennsylvania for years. Maggie, Owen is . . .”

Before Maggie could ask, he said, “Yes, that Harrison.”

Owen extended a hand in Maggie’s direction. “And yes, you needn’t ask—thanks to Emma, the carousel will be brought out and assembled for the Fourth of July. Tell you the truth, I’d forgotten about it, but she’s been reminding me relentlessly in her yearly calls.”

Maggie nodded. “Emma can be quite persuasive when she wants something.”

“Apparently so.” He turned to look out into the gallery area. “She’s certainly managed to get the word out on this obscure artist, didn’t she? I see people here from several very influential galleries in the city. How on earth did you get them to leave Boston and drive all the way out here to look at the work of an unknown?”

“I prefer to think of Jessie as undiscovered.” Emma smiled graciously. “And we’ll leave the story of how I got their attention till summer, when you come back to bring out the carousel.” She opened a desk drawer and took out a card, which she handed to him. “My address is here, and my cell number. So you can let us know when to expect you. I’d hate to publicize something I have to apologize for later when it doesn’t happen.”

“Oh, trust me. I’ll be back. I appreciate your tenacity—and your concern for the community.” He slipped a hand into his back pocket and removed his wallet, opened it, stuck in the card, and returned the wallet to its place. “You have my word.”

He turned to Maggie and, with a somewhat formal nod, said, “A pleasure, Maggie Flynn.” And to Emma, “You’ll be hearing from me.”

One last smile meant to be shared by both women, and he was out the door.

“Well, well.” Maggie sat on the edge of Emma’s desk. “That was interesting. Did you really contact him every year reminding him about the carousel?”

Emma nodded. “I sure did. I just wanted to make sure someone whose last name is Harrison remembered and was planning on making it happen.”

“Sounds more like harassment to me,” Maggie teased.

“Worked, didn’t it?” Emma grinned.

“Apparently. And I’m betting Owen will make sure he’s back from wherever it is he goes to make sure it happens.” Maggie grinned. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” The color of Emma’s cheeks rose just a little.

Maggie laughed out loud. “Bull.”

“I wouldn’t mind. He’s nice. Much nicer than I expected. And I had no idea how old or young the current Harrison heir was,” Emma told her. “But we’ll see come summer whether he’s all talk or not. Now, was there something you wanted to tell me, or were you seeking refuge from the crowd?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“I don’t blame you. Some of those artsy folks can get a bit tedious. I don’t mind if it helps get the word out on Jessie’s work.” Emma went to the door and looked out onto the room. “It would mean so much to Liddy.”