Sanctuary

not here to cramp her style.”
    “Tell her yourself.” Brian opened the thermos he’d brought along and poured freshly squeezed lemonade into the lid. “I’m not stepping between the two of you so I can get my ass kicked from both sides.”
    “Fine, stay out of it, then.” Her head was beginning to ache, but she took the cup and sipped. “I don’t know why the hell she resents me so much.”
    “Can’t imagine.” Brian drawled it before he lifted the thermos and drank straight from the lip. “You’re successful, famous, financially independent, a rising star in your field. All the things she wants for herself.” He picked up the biscuit and broke it in half, handing a portion to Jo as the steam burst out. “I can’t think why that’d put her nose out of joint.”
    “I did it by myself for myself. I didn’t work my butt off to get to this point to show her up.” Without thinking, she stuffed a bite of biscuit in her mouth. “It’s not my fault she’s got some childish fantasy about seeing her name in lights and having people throw roses at her feet.”
    “Your seeing it as childish doesn’t make the desire any less real for her.” He held up a hand before Jo could speak. “And I’m not getting in the middle. The two of you are welcome to rip the hide off each other in your own good time. But I’d say right now she could take you without breaking a sweat.”
    “I don’t want to fight with her,” Jo said wearily. She could smell the wisteria that rioted over the nearby arched iron trellis—another vivid memory of childhood. “I didn’t come here to fight with anyone.”
    “That’ll be a change.”
    That lured a ghost of a smile to her lips. “Maybe I’ve mellowed.”
    “Miracles happen. Eat your slaw.”
    “I don’t remember you being so bossy.”
    “I’ve cut back on mellow.”
    With what passed as a chuckle, Jo picked up her fork and poked at the slaw. “Tell me what’s new around here, Bri, and what’s the same.” Bring me home, she thought, but couldn’t say it. Bring me back.
    “Let’s see, Giff Verdon built on another room to the Verdon cottage.”
    “Stop the presses.” Then Jo’s brow furrowed. “Young Giff, the scrawny kid with the cowlick. The one who was always mooning over Lex?”
    “That’s the one. Filled out some, Giff has, and he’s right handy with a hammer and saw. Does all our repair work now. Still moons over Lexy, but I’d say he knows what he wants to do about it now.”
    Jo snorted and, without thinking, shoveled in more slaw. “She’ll eat him alive.”
    Brian shrugged. “Maybe, but I think she’ll find him tougher to chew up than she might expect. The Sanders girl, Rachel, she got herself engaged to some college boy in Atlanta. Going to move there come September.”
    “Rachel Sanders.” Jo tried to conjure up a mental image. “Was she the one with the lisp or the one with the giggle?”
    “The giggle—sharp enough to make the ears bleed.” Satisfied that Jo was eating, Brian stretched an arm over the back of the glider and relaxed. “Old Mrs. Fitzsimmons passed on more than a year back.”
    “Old Mrs. Fitzsimmons,” Jo murmured. “She used to shuck oysters on her porch, with that lazy hound of hers sleeping at her feet beside the rocker.”
    “The hound passed, too, right after. Guess he didn’t see much point in living without her.”
    “She let me take pictures of her,” Jo remembered. “When I was a kid, just learning. I still have them. A couple weren’t bad. Mr. David helped me develop them. I must have been such a pest, but she just sat there in her rocker and let me practice on her.”
    Sitting back, Jo fell into the rhythm of the glider, as slow and monotonous as the rhythm of the island. “I hope it was quick and painless.”
    “She died in her sleep at the ripe old age of ninety-six. Can’t do much better than that.”
    “No.” Jo closed her eyes, the food forgotten. “What was done with her cottage?”
    “Passed down. The Pendletons bought most of the Fitzsimmons land back in 1923, but she owned her house and the little spit of land it sits on. Went to her granddaughter.” Brian lifted the thermos again, drank deeply this time. “A doctor. She’s set up a practice here on the island.”
    “We have a doctor on Desire?” Jo opened her eyes, lifted her brows. “Well, well. How civilized. Are people actually going to her?”
    “Seems they are, little by little, anyway. She’s dug her toes