by Vicki Delany
“That should be exciting,” Darlene said.
“Hi, everyone.” Bernie strode through the French doors. She leaned over and gave Rose a peck on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, Rose, but I was working on a new scene and I got so caught up in it, I lost track of time.”
“I’ll forgive you,” Rose said. “Everyone, this is Lily and my good friend, Bernadette. Bernie’s a novelist.”
“Cool,” Amanda said, looking genuinely interested.
The adults all muttered some form of greeting, none of them looking even remotely genuinely interested.
Bernie dragged a chair over from another table, put it next to Rose, and sat down.
“I want to hit the beach today,” Tyler said. “How do we get there?”
“Stairs leading down to the water are right outside this door,” I told Tyler. “But it’s not good for swimming here. It’s rocky, not sandy. It’s a perfect spot for walking and exploring the coastline, particularly when the tide’s out and the pools are full of sea life.”
“That would be great,” Heather said. “The tide’s going out now. Who wants a morning hike?”
“As if,” Amanda mumbled.
“I’d love to go with you,” Julie-Ann said, “but not with my knees. I couldn’t manage those stairs.”
“If you exercised now and again,” Darlene said to her daughter-in-law, “you might not have so much trouble.”
“Did I ask you for health advice?” Julie-Ann snapped. “I did not, but thank you so much, anyway.”
“Just trying to help, dear.” Darlene sipped her coffee.
“Not me,” Brian said. “I want to catch the replay of the game I missed when we were in the air.”
“You’ll have to do that another time,” Darlene said. “I’m going to the beach with Tyler and you have to drive us. It’s too bad we only rented the one car.” Her eyes flicked toward Heather.
“Aunt Heather has hers,” Amanda said. “She can drop you on the way into town for our shopping trip.”
“Heather wants to go walking this morning,” Sandra said. “As for me, I plan to sit on that lovely veranda and rock back and forth and catch up with my oldest and dearest friend.”
“Lily?” Heather turned to me. “Would you like to come for a walk?”
“What’s that, dear?” Sandra said. “Speak up.”
“Sorry, Gran. I asked Lily to come with me.”
“I don’t know why young people these days have to mutter all the time,” Sandra muttered.
Heather gave her a fond look as I said, “I’d love to, but I don’t have time. I have to get to the tearoom before opening. I’m late as it is.”
“I can’t wait to see your tearoom,” Sandra said. “I have the most marvelous idea! We’ll all meet for afternoon tea tomorrow. Can you reserve us a table for two o’clock? Rose, you’ll join us, of course.”
“I’d be delighted,” my grandmother said.
“Can’t,” Brian said. “Lewis, Tyler, and I are going fishing.”
“We might need to do more shopping,” Amanda said. “If I don’t get all the things I want today.”
“Isn’t tomorrow our spa day?” Julie-Ann said.
“If Gran wants to have afternoon tea tomorrow,” Heather said, “then we’re having afternoon tea at two o’clock tomorrow. I’ll make the other bookings for the day after.”
Everyone tried, with varying degrees of success, to hide their disappointment, but no one put up an argument.
“Can I go now?” Tyler had taken his phone out of his pocket and was holding it under the table, passing it from one hand to the other, like a smoker who couldn’t wait to get that next shot of nicotine.
“You may.” Sandra took her room key out of her pocket and handed it to the boy. “Run up and get my book, please. It’s on my night table.”
He leapt to his feet, snatched the key, and ran for the French doors, followed by his sister.
“I meant to ask you, Rose,” Julie-Ann said, “I don’t suppose you have a nicer room free? We’d love a view of the sea.”
“When Heather made the booking, she said you had trouble managing the stairs, so I gave you a room on the ground floor.”
“Well, yes, my knees are bad, but I can manage the stairs.”
Darlene snorted. Julie-Ann ignored her. I was starting to get the feeling that Darlene wasn’t overly fond of her son’s wife.
“I’m fully booked this week,” Rose said. “The rooms are all assigned.”
“I just thought, what with Sandra being such a good friend of yours . . .”
“I would think,” Sandra said sharply, “you’d not look a gift horse in the mouth, Julie-Ann.”
“I was only asking.”
We were the last people in the dining room. Edna puttered about, clearing tables and resetting them for tomorrow. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man’s head pop into the room. I don’t normally have anything to do with the running of the B & B, that’s up to Rose, but as she was occupied with her guests, I thought I’d help him. I stood up. “Nice meeting you all. I hope you have a marvelous visit to Cape Cod. We have plenty of brochures and maps at the registration desk to help you make the most of your visit.”
Bernie leapt to her feet. “Gotta run. Have a nice day.”
Sandra stood up and the rest of her family scrambled to follow. Rose put Robbie on the floor.
“We’ll meet in the lobby at six this evening,” Sandra said, “and go out to dinner as a family.”
“You’d better make a reservation, Heather,” Lewis said to his sister. “I bet the nice places fill up fast in the summer.”
Bernie and I headed for the lobby as the family trailed behind us. Rose and Sandra brought up the rear, talking in low voices, their gray heads close together, their sticks tapping on the floor.
“What brings you here this morning?” I whispered to Bernie.
“Rose invited me to breakfast to meet her friends. Other than the old lady, who seems nice, I’m glad I was late.”
“Strange bunch,” I said.
“Not at all shy about scrounging off Heather. I didn’t like her much when I first met her, but now that I see the way her family treats her like their personal ATM . . .”
We went into the front hall, which serves as the main reception area. In keeping with Rose’s dream of owning a stately English country house, the walls are papered in pale green and hung with reproduction eighteenth-century English portraits, and the ceramic tiles on the floor are laid in a black-and-white check pattern. A wide sweeping staircase, with scarlet runners and oak banisters, leads upstairs. A recent photo of the queen hangs over the reproduction antique desk, where neat stacks of Cape Cod tourist brochures are laid out next to a vase of fresh flowers from our garden.
A man and a woman stood in the hall, suitcases at their feet. They were both in their late fifties. He was shorter than me, and either had a basketball stuffed under his T-shirt or was considerably overweight. Red lines of rosacea crisscrossed his bulbous nose, and he wiped at beads of sweat on his forehead. She was shorter still, and softly rounded, with small dark eyes that blinked rapidly in her plump face and dyed brown hair the texture of a Brillo pad. Her T-shirt was adorned with flowers and said it was from the DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN, PHOENIX. These must be the people who’d failed to arrive last night.
“Hi,” I said in my friendly professional voice. “Can I help you?”
“We have a reservation,” he said. “We were supposed to be here yesterday, but our flight was canceled. Name’s French. I’m Ed, and this is my wife, Trisha.”
“What the heck?”
I turned at the sound of an angry voice behind me. Brian McHenry stood in the doorway to the dining room, his family clustered behind him. His face was turning red and a vein pulsed in his neck.
“Nice to see you, too, Brian,” Ed French said.
“Goodness,” Julie-Ann said. “This is . . . unexpected.”
“This can’t be some crazy coincidence.” Brian whirled ar
ound. “Heather, did you know these . . . people were coming?”
“Calm down, Dad,” Heather said. “I invited them.”
“Why would you do something as stupid as that?” Darlene said.
“I have to say,” Trisha French said, “we didn’t know the whole miserable gang would be here. Oh, dear, not Lewis, too?”
Bernie and I looked from one person to the other. Other than Sandra’s and Heather’s, the faces of the McHenry family varied between shock and rage.
“Believe me,” Lewis said, “I’m as happy to see you, Trisha, as you are to see me.”
Heather stepped forward. If she planned to go for a walk among the tidal pools, she’d have to change those sandals. The heels were about three inches high and the straps the thickness of dental floss. She walked up to the new arrivals and gave a startled Trisha a hug and her companion a peck on the cheek. “It’s been far too long,” she said, “thank you both for coming.” Her point made, she turned to face her family. “I wanted to spend a nice few days with my gran. Gran suggested everyone come and—”
“Actually,” Sandra said, “it was more that when I mentioned our plans to Brian, he decided to join us.”
“That’s not what happened, Mother,” Brian said. “You told us your friend Mrs. Campbell had opened a B and B. You said it would be the perfect place for a family reunion.”
“And by family reunion,” Darlene said, “we assumed you meant the family. Not just you and my daughter. Who—I shouldn’t have to point out, but I will—hasn’t bothered to come home to Iowa to visit her parents since she moved to New York. Thus the reunion part of family reunion.”
“As I’m trying to get along with everyone,” Heather said, “and ensure that we all enjoy a nice week here, I won’t bother to point out that you, Mom, didn’t bother to come to my wedding. Ed and Trisha, on the other hand, did.”
Darlene had the grace to look away.
“As this trip is all about bringing the family together and letting bygones be bygones, I invited Ed and Trisha to join us. They are part of my family. Whether you like them or not.”
“Not,” Darlene muttered, although I was the only one standing close enough to her to hear.
Heather spoke to Rose. “Ed was the elder brother of my late husband, Norman.” Rose had told me Norman had been a good twenty years older than Heather. That would explain why his older brother was more the age of Heather’s father, Brian, than her brother, Lewis. She then turned her smile on me. “If you’d be so kind as to check our new arrivals in. You’ll put it on my account, of course.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Rose settled herself at the reproduction antique reception desk. She unlocked a drawer and took out a key. “I’ve put Mr. and Mrs. French in room 202. Second floor. It has a lovely view over the bay.”
“Hey!” Julie-Ann said. “I asked for that room.”
Trisha laughed and snatched the key out of Rose’s hand. “Sorry.”
Julie-Ann gave Trisha a narrow-eyed glare, but she then turned to Ed with a smile. “I, for one, am pleased to see you.”
“Thanks,” Ed said.
Darlene glared at her daughter-in-law over the top of her glasses, but she said nothing.
Robert the Bruce came out of the dining room, stretched his body to its full length, and once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he sashayed across the room. Trisha French’s round face turned pale. She visibly recoiled and said, “Oh. A cat. How . . . unfortunate.”
Robbie knew when he wasn’t wanted and made the most of it. He rubbed himself against Trisha’s legs and purred. She threw her husband a pleading glance, but he was fully occupied in staring down Brian McHenry. I snatched Robbie up and said, “Sorry, but he has the run of the place. It says so in all our booking information. Are you allergic to cats?”
“Not allergic, no.” Drops of sweat had broken out on Trisha’s forehead. “I’m okay. I’m . . . not too fond of cats, that’s all.”
Robbie purred happily in my arms.
“This is what we have on for today,” Heather said. “A walk on the beach now, then some of us are going shopping in town and others to the swimming beach. We’re meeting here at six to go to dinner. A free morning tomorrow, with afternoon tea at the tearoom up by the road at two. The next day, the women are going to a spa in North Augusta and the men fishing. Whale watching on Wednesday. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“Fun,” Ed French said without a trace of enthusiasm.
“A ball of laughs,” Lewis said.
“Shopping?” Trisha said. “I can do that.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs as Tyler ran down. “Here’s your book, GeeGee.” He tossed a thick paperback to Sandra.
“Where’s your sister?” Julie-Ann asked.
He shrugged. “In our room, on the phone. She’s telling Madison all the stuff she’s going to buy today. Why do we have to share a room, anyway? You’re not paying.”
“You keep complaining,” Brian said, “and you’ll be sleeping in the car.”
“At least we have an extra car now,” Julie-Ann said. “I assume you rented one, Ed?”
“Had to get here from the airport somehow.”
Sandra stamped her cane on the floor to get everyone’s attention. “Now that’s settled, I’m going outside for a sit. Rose, will you join me?”
“Be right there,” my grandmother said.
Sandra turned and shuffled away, leaning heavily on her cane. Bernie ran ahead of her to hold open the front door.
I put Robbie on the floor and shooed him away. He stalked off, tail held high. “You must be tired and hungry,” I said to the new arrivals. “Breakfast is finished and we don’t provide room service, but I can bring you a couple of muffins, freshly baked this morning. Every room has all the things you need to fix tea or coffee, but as you’ve just arrived, I’d be happy to make you something, if you’d like.”
“I’d adore a cup of coffee,” Trisha said. “Sleeping on an airport bench is never comfortable.”
“That’s why I always travel business class,” Heather said. “So nice to have the use of the executive lounge.”
“Nice if you can afford it,” Ed said.
“And I can, lucky me. Now I’m going to change my shoes.” Heather bent her leg backward and wiggled her foot. “These little darlings are perfect for clubbing in Manhattan, but not for walking on the beach.”
“Coffee for you?” I asked Ed.
“I can’t drink caffeinated beverages, so I always carry my own.” He patted his pockets.
“I have it, dear.” Trisha dug in her purse and pulled out a small plastic bag containing dry brown leaves. “Ed’s special tea. Do you mind? All it needs is to steep in hot water for a couple of minutes.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I took the bag. “You go on ahead, and I’ll bring your snack up in five minutes.”
I caught Bernie’s eye, jerked my head, and slipped away. She followed me. When we were safely in the kitchen, I let out a long breath. Edna had finished and left, and the kitchen was once again clean and sparkling.
Chapter 5
“I’d say drama is the word of the day for that lot,” Bernie said.
“You can say that again.” I plugged in the kettle and got down the package of coffee beans and a single-serve French press. “What a family.”
“It’s almost ten,” Bernie said. “You have to open the tearoom soon. I can manage two muffins and a cup of coffee, if you like.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” I handed her Ed French’s bag of tea leaves, and she opened it and sniffed. Her face crinkled in disgust. “Smells like right after Simon’s cut the lawn.”
“Freshly mown grass is a wonderful smell.”
“So it is. Doesn’t mean I want to sit down to a plate full of the stuff. Or, even worse, drink it.”
I put the beans in the coffee grinder and switched it on.
“Speaking of Simon,” Bernie said over the roar of the tiny motor, “I sa
w him deadheading roses when I arrived. How’s he working out?”
“Great. He seems to have a real knack for growing things.”
“Good to know,” Bernie said. “But that’s not what I meant. How’s he working out on the more personal front?”
“There is no ‘more personal front,’ as I might have mentioned more than once. He’s nice, very nice, and not hard to look at, either, but neither he nor I have time to see if anything’s going to develop. At the end of the summer, he’ll be gone. Back to merry old England.”
“You need some romance in your life, Lily. You can’t work all the time.”
“Truth be told, I can work all the time. And I do. But what you mean is you need some romance in your life, and you want to live it through me. Have you seen Matt lately?”
“I assume that’s not a change of subject, and the answer is no.”
“He’s moved in smack-dab next door. His car’s parked there a lot of the time, and I occasionally see lights at night. They’re faint and flickering and move around, so I don’t think the electricity’s hooked up yet.” The property next to us was as old and had once been as grand as Victoria-on-Sea, but the house had been unoccupied for many years and was falling into not-so-genteel disrepair. Matt Goodwill had recently taken up residence. He intended to do most of the work involved in fixing up the house himself, as and when time and finances allowed.
“No comment,” Bernie said. “Speaking of changing the subject, are you going to work or not?”
“On my way,” I said. Éclair was standing impatiently by the door. If she knew how to tap her toes, she would have.
The kettle boiled, and Bernie poured hot water into the French press and then into the teapot containing Ed’s leaves. “Smells even more like grass cuttings when it’s wet. I’m thinking I can save myself a lot of work thinking up dialogue for my book if I record that family’s conversations and type it out. Did you think they were weird? Did you notice that Julie-Ann and Lewis, who are married, never once even looked at each other?”
“Lots of married people don’t get on all that well. I didn’t notice, but that might be because I was too busy dodging the verbal blows between the French and McHenry families.”
