Island Promises by Joy Connell Read Free Book Online

exotic wood. In-between, tables were set up with brightly colored cloths in different muted colors.
    “Act like you’ve been somewhere before. Close your mouth for starters.” Mitchell took her elbow and steered her to a table in the center of the room.
    After the heat of the markets, the air was blissfully cool here, the big fans lazily moving the air, the breeze off the ocean was just enough to dry the sweat that had pooled where her hair lay stuck to her neck, a heavy, unruly mass, thanks to this island humidity.
    A large woman in a flowered dress made her way to them and swallowed Mitchell up in her dark arms. Her hair was wound up on her head, tinged white on the ends. Her large, deep brown eyes peered right over Mitchell’s shoulder and directly at Riley. It was such a knowing gaze. It was as though she were looking past Riley’s ever more frizzing hair and her too-big clothes, past the tough reporter’s façade, and directly into her soul.
    “And who have you brought me?” The big woman took her by the shoulders and studied her. Her words were liquid, slightly accented, like the flow of the sea.
    “Riley Santey, we are glad you have come,” she said after Mitchell introduced her. Keeping an arm around Riley’s shoulders, she steered her toward the bar.
    “Stanley, look who has come to visit.”
    A thin man, rather short, with pale skin and stooped shoulders, leaned out over the bar. He was as quiet as the woman was boisterous. Vaguely nodding in their direction, he turned, and in an instant set two tall foamy glasses the color of light chocolate on the bar.
    “Our treat,” Rosa said. “Every newcomer should have island tea.”
    “Thanks, Rosa, Stanley.” Mitchell took a big gulp and white foam coated his upper lip. “Henri gave us a ride. You must be so proud of him.”
    “We are.” Rosa patted Stanley’s hand and he smiled. “We’re glad he’s home.” She beamed at her son, who was donning an apron and getting ready to work the dining room.
    When Rosa turned to greet another party, Mitchell motioned for Riley to follow him and they sat at a table near the open French doors. A shaded patio was just outside and then the glorious view of the village and the sea.
    “Now this is my idea of a vacation.” Riley let the canvas bag slip off her shoulder before she collapsed into the chair. “Instead of some tiny room on a rocking boat.”
    “Cabin. It’s not a room. It’s a cabin.”
    “Yeah, cabin. As if it wasn’t bad enough, trying to cook in that fire hazard of a kitchen was a nightmare.”
    “Galley. Not kitchen.”
    “See, that’s what I mean.” She tried tucking stray hairs behind her ears but they popped right back out. The hairdressers on the Chicago news show would have their work cut out for them when she got back. “I belong on land where a bed is a bed.”
    “Bunk. Don’t say bed.”
    “And everything has a name everyone knows. I don’t know why we bought that damn boat in the first place. Tax shelter, I guess.”
    Mitchell coughed and sputtered until Riley thought she would have to flip him over and pound him on the back. The few people in the restaurant at this early afternoon hour stared and Stanley started out from behind the bar. Mitchell held up a hand to indicate he was okay and gradually people went back to their drinks and dinners. Leaning back, Mitchell put a hand over his heart and took several deep breaths.
    “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked. “That’s the second time today you’ve had my heart being faster than a cardio video.”
    “What did I say?”
    “That Joe Logan sold the Reprieve ?”
    “It wasn’t his to sell. I own it, along with my, well, I guess, my partner.”
    Mitchell’s stare was disconcerting.
    “What?” Riley finally demanded.
    “You don’t seem crazy. Maybe it’s the shock of so much sun after all those gray days in the rust belt. The Reprieve is Joe Logan’s boat. Everybody knows that.”
    She could feel her face