Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(17)

“Probably,” she said in answer to his question.

“Will you be on the two forty-five ferry, or the four-thirty?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Mark nodded, letting it go.

As he left, Maggie was aware of a sense of unsettling pleasure, edged with yearning. She reminded herself that Mark Nolan was off-limits. And so was she. Not only did she distrust the intensity of her own attraction to him, but she wasn’t ready for the kind of risk he presented.

She would never be ready for that.

Some risks you could only afford to take once.

Five

Growing up in the Edgemoor neighborhood of Bellingham, Maggie and her brothers and sisters had explored the trails of Chuckanut Mountain and played along the shores of Bellingham Bay. The quiet neighborhood offered views of both the San Juans and the Canadian mountains. It was also situated next to Fairhaven, where you could browse through unique shops and galleries, or eat at restaurants where the waiters could always tell you about the freshest catch and where it had been brought from.

Bellingham lived up to its nickname of “the city of subdued excitement.” It was laid-back, comfortable; the kind of place where you could be as eccentric as you wanted and you would always find company. Cars were bandaged with every kind of bumper sticker. Competing political yard signs sprang from people’s lawns like spring-flowering bulbs. Any kind of belief was tolerated as long as you weren’t pushy about it.

After Maggie’s sister Jill picked her up in Anacortes, they went to the historic Fairhaven District for lunch. Since Maggie and Jill were the two youngest siblings in the Norris family, only a year and a half apart in age, they had always been close. They had gone through the school system one grade apart, attended the same camps, shared the same crushes on teen idols. Jill had been the maid of honor at Maggie’s wedding, and she had asked Maggie to be the matron of honor at her upcoming wedding to a local firefighter, Danny Stroud.

“I’m glad we’re stealing some private time,” Jill said as they shared tapas at Flats, a small Spanish restaurant with oversized picture windows and a tiny outside patio lined with flower boxes. “Once I bring you to Mom and Dad’s house, you’re going to be swarmed and I won’t get to talk to you at all. Except that tomorrow night, you’re going to have to make a little time to meet someone.”

Maggie paused in the act of lifting a glass of sangria to her lips. “Who?” she asked warily. “Why?”

“A friend of Danny’s.” Jill’s tone was deliberately casual. “A very cute guy, very sweet—”

“Did you already ask him over?”

“No, I wanted to mention it to you first, but—”

“Good. I don’t want to meet him.”

“Why? Have you started going out with someone?”

“Jill, have you forgotten the reason I’m in Bellingham this weekend? It’s the second anniversary of Eddie’s death. The last thing I want to do is meet someone.”

“I thought this would be the perfect time. It’s been two years. I’ll bet you haven’t been on one date since Eddie died, have you?”

“I’m not ready yet.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the waitress brought a bayona sandwich, a grilled pepper sausage and cheese on crusty peasant bread. It was always cut into three parts, the middle being the most succulent, smoky, and melting section of all.

“How will you know when you’re ready?” Jill asked, after the waitress had left. “Do you have a timer that goes off or something?”

Maggie regarded her with exasperated affection, reaching for the bayona sandwich.

“I know a ton of cute single guys in Bellingham,” Jill continued. “I could fix you up so easily. And there you are in Friday Harbor, hiding. You could at least have opened a bar or a sporting-goods shop, where you could meet men. But a toy shop?”

“I love my shop. I love Friday Harbor.”

“But are you happy?”

“I am,” Maggie said reflectively, after consuming a delicious bite of sandwich. “I’m really okay.”

“Good, now it’s time to go on with your life. You’re only twenty-eight, and you should stay open to the possibility of finding someone.”

“I don’t want to have to go out there again. The chances of finding real love are about a billion to one. I had it once, and there’s no way it will happen again.”

“You know what you need? A provisional boyfriend.”

“Provisional?”

“Yes, like when you get a provisional driver’s license so you can brush up on your skills before you get the real one. Don’t worry about finding a guy to have a serious relationship with…just pick someone fun to help you get on the road again.”

“I guess that would make me a Class C dater,” Maggie said, entertained. “Could I do that while unaccompanied by a parent or guardian?”

“Absolutely,” Jill said, “as long as you practice safe driving.”

After lunch, they stopped by Rocket Donuts at Maggie’s insistence. She ordered a selection of doughnuts that included oblong confections covered with maple frosting and topped with strips of bacon, doughnuts crusted with chunks of Oreo cookies, and fried cake doughnuts drenched in Guittard Chocolate.