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a wheelchair during his recovery, staring out at the snow that had blanketed Washington one Januarymorning a couple of weeks back, he’d suddenly had a yearning for the sunshine and palm trees he hadn’t seen since leaving Seaview Key for college more than twenty years ago. Though his family had moved away from the island to live with his sister in Arizona, Seaview had continued to have a special place in his heart. It was home. It was where he’d fallen in love for the first time, where he’d learned to fish and swim, where he’d volunteered with the local rescue squad and discovered his passion for medicine. It was, he’d decided, the perfect place to heal.
    There were no memories of Lisa, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, in Seaview, no images of his kids on the stretch of white sand there. After being gone for so long, he could only hope that no one there would remember him all that well. Most of the kids in his class had fled, chasing dreams of more excitement than the tiny town could offer. If he was right about that, there would be no pitying looks to bear, no questions to be answered, just the peace and quiet he craved while he figured out what to do with the rest of his life.
    Twenty years ago, there had been only one place to stay on the island, Seaview Inn, a sprawling bed-and-breakfast run for three generations by the Matthews family. Hannah had been in his class, and like the rest of them, she’d been eager to flee. He had an image of a quiet, studious girl whose face lit up when she laughed, which was all too seldom. She’d been best friends with Abby Dawson, his first love, so they’d spent a lot of time on the inn’s front porch, rocking for hours and talking about the future while sea breezes stirred the palm trees and stars sparkled like diamond chips scattered across black velvet.
    He shook his head, struck by how simple life had been back then. His biggest problem had been trying to figureout how to rid Abby of her bra without getting slapped. He’d finally mastered the technique by the end of summer. He grinned as he thought of how well that skill had served him in college.
    Once they’d all left for college, though, distance had taken its toll, and they’d lost touch. He’d met Lisa and stepped into his future, Seaview Key all but forgotten until recently.
    With one call to Information, he’d found the number for the inn, but it had taken him days to get through to anyone. He’d found it odd and discouraging that there didn’t even seem to be an answering machine, but he’d persisted just the same, unwilling to give up on the only plan that had appealed to him in months.
    When the phone had finally been answered, it was by a woman who sounded ancient and annoyed. “What do you want?” she’d demanded without so much as a pleasant hello.
    “Is this Seaview Inn?”
    “That’s the number you dialed, isn’t it?”
    He’d grinned despite her tone. Clearly old Jenny Matthews was having a bad day. He could relate.
    “It certainly is,” he agreed. “I was hoping to reserve a room.”
    “We’re closed.”
    Luke decided to try another approach. “Mrs. Matthews, this is Luke Stevens. I don’t know if you remember me—”
    “My mind’s not gone yet,” she snapped. “Of course, I remember you. You’re Mark and Stella’s boy. Used to hang around here with that Dawson girl. She was all wrong for you, by the way. I sure as heck hope you had the good sense not to marry her.”
    “I don’t know how much good sense was involved, but we didn’t get married,” he said, impressed by her memory.
    “Good. Last I heard she was working in some bar up in Pensacola and hanging out with a rowdy crowd. Bikers, I suspect.”
    Luke chuckled despite himself. The last he’d heard, Abby had owned a restaurant in Pensacola and been married to a minister. He saw no need to debate the point with Mrs. Matthews. There would be plenty of time to settle the matter when he saw her.
    “You said you’re closed