“I’ll be right back,” Carrie said as she went in the house, returning with a bottle of wine and glasses. She poured one for Jen and one for herself and sat back down beside her friend.
“I think they’re almost done. He was in the bathroom.”
Jen took a generous sip of wine and paced along the deck. She noticed that it creaked in the same place every time and made a mental note to put it on the list.
Finally, Faith and the realtor came back out. He was still scribbling on the clipboard.
He smiled and nodded at Jen. “Thanks, ladies. I think I have everything I need to give you a good quote.”
“Great,” Jen said with zero enthusiasm.
“Nice to meet you Faith, Miss Westland and...Miss White,” he said as he closed the creaky gate behind him. “Oh, and the toilet in the main floor bathroom was running. You might want to check it out.”
All three watched in silence as he got into the huge SUV that he’d parked right on the street in front of the house. How he’d gotten that parking space would remain a mystery, but realtors seemed to have special abilities when it came to things like that, Jen noted.
“Well, that was a surprise,” Carrie finally said as he pulled away.
“Almost as much of a surprise as when you introduced yourself as Betty White,” Faith said, sputtering through laughter. “What was that about?”
Carrie waved her hand and laughed. “I’ve had somebody calling the office for days asking for me and I didn’t know who it was, so I didn’t call back. I guess it was him. I didn’t want him to know who I was.”
Jen finally cracked a smile. “Okay, but Betty White? Really?”
“It was all I could think of. I’ve been binge-watching Golden Girls. It just came to me.”
Faith shook her head and rolled her eyes, her silver bracelets clinking as she brushed back her hair. “I’m sure he bought it. No question.”
“Hey, everything’s ready for dinner. You guys hungry?”
“Absolutely.” Carrie rubbed her tummy. “Just let me know how to help.”
Jen watched as Dirk turned onto Newport Boulevard and made a mental note to call her brother. There was something going on, obviously, that she didn’t know. And she aimed to find out what it was.
Chapter Twelve
They’d all pitched in with dinner, each to the best of their abilities. Faith was great at getting the table set and chopping and slicing when necessary—and was great at clean-up. Carrie could barely boil water but knew her way around barbecue tongs.
“You sure do know how to barbecue,” Faith said.
They plopped into comfy chairs on the top deck after everything had been cleaned up and put away.
Carrie poured a little bit more wine as they all looked out over the waves that sparkled white under the light of the moon.
“My dad insisted. Just like your dad wanted to make sure you could whistle louder than anybody, my dad wanted me to be the best barbecuer. I think maybe he wanted a son instead.”
“Who says barbecue is the domain of men? When they’re not around, you’ve got it covered for us,” Faith chimed in, raising her glass in Carrie’s direction. “And Jen, it was fabulous. As usual.”
“Aw, glad you all enjoyed it. Faith is right. The chicken was cooked to perfection, Carrie. A little black around the edges, just how I like it.”
Carrie laughed. “If I didn’t know that to be true, I’d think you were lying. I did it on purpose.”
They all sat in silence for a bit, listening to the crashing waves. The seagulls had gone somewhere for the night—Jen was never sure where—but they all turned as a loud rustle came from a palm tree a bit south, right over the boardwalk.
“What’s that?” Carrie asked.
Faith stood and leaned closer over the railing of the balcony. “I’m not sure, but I’ve heard something in that palm tree every night since we’ve been here. Haven’t seen anything, though.”
It was a little difficult to see through the dark, but Jen leaned over as well.
“Whatever it is, it sure is making a ruckus. Some kind of bird, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Carrie said as she leaned up against the railing as well. “Maybe we can see better in the morning, see what kind of birds.”
They’d been meeting early to walk Daisy, and it had been one of Jen’s favorite times of the day. A couple of times, they’d run into Joe. Daisy and Boris were becoming fast friends.
Jen looked where Carrie pointed as her friend grabbed her wrist. “Oh, my gosh, look.”
A tall man walked down the street wearing a black-and-white striped shirt, black pants and a red sash. He held a white straw hat in his hand.
They all watched as he approached the boardwalk. He was tall and lean, but beyond that Jen couldn’t get a good look at him.
He got closer to the streetlight before they all three gasped at the same time. And before Jen could stop her, Faith whistled that cat-call whistle—not as loud as Jen could have, but loud enough for Joe to stop and turn.
He took off his hat and looked up at the balcony, and Jen would have bet that could they see better, they’d see his cheeks turning pink.
He took off his hat and gave them all a deep bow.
“Good evening, ladies.”
Jen felt like she was having a moment of deja vu—suddenly, in front of her under the street lamp, were Allen and his best friend, Joe. Thirty years ago, and in their gondolier outfits. Just like now.
She shook her head and snapped out of it as the girls laughed and cat-called.
“Best gondolier this side of Venice,” Faith shouted.
“Thank you, madam,” he said with a broad smile. “The business is short-handed and I had to—well, fill in. Just like old times.”
“Just like old times,” Jen said quietly. A little bit louder, she said, “Would you like to come up for a drink? We’re just admiring the waves.”
“Oh, thank you, but no. This is a bigger workout than when I was younger. I think I need a shower. And a bed. Rain check?”
“Of course,” Jen said, and they all waved as he turned the corner, the bold black and white stripes visible for quite a while down the boardwalk.
“Well, that was something,” Carrie said after a bit.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that except in pictures. I didn’t know you guys then—he looks pretty good in that get-up.”
“Yes, he does,” Carrie said. “He did then, and he does now.”
Faith sat back down as Joe disappeared. “I knew his family owned one of the gondola companies but didn’t expect he’d work there.”
Jen sat down beside her. “Yes, one of the oldest and best in Newport. There are several, and they all do well, to be honest. But Joe’s mom only allows them to serve authentic Italian on their tours. It’s the real deal without going to Venice.”
“Wow,” Faith said. “It’d be fun to go on one sometime.”
“They are really fun. Lots of marriage proposals, I bet, but they’re a fun way to get around the harbor. See the houses. Maybe we should ask him.”
Jen was quiet for a moment, remembering the times she and Joe and Allen had snuck gondolas out on top of watching fireworks. Carrie had come, too. But it seemed like a very long time ago.
“Maybe,” she said quietly. She turned and looked back at the house. “Lots of memories here. All kinds. More than I’ve thought of in a long while.”
Faith let out a deep sigh. “Doesn’t seem right we might not be sitting here next summer.”
Faith and Carrie nodded, and they sat quietly listening to the waves.
Jen looked back at the house again, and up and down the boardwalk. “No. It doesn’t seem right at all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Faith couldn’t remember a time when she’d had such a fitful night’s sleep with the windows open, waves lapping at the sand. She should have slept like a rock. But at least she knew why.
What Faith had thought wa
s a good idea—to check her email—hadn’t turned out to be such a good one after all.
The sound of the waves lapping at the shore lulled her into a yawn, and she realized what a long day it had been. She stood and stretched, ready to get a good night’s sleep.
And then she’d had the brilliant idea to check her email. She scrolled through the faceless advertising emails she got every day and only stopped when she saw Amy’s name. Her principal rarely emailed, and she’d actually been expecting a phone call before now. Faith opened it up right away and reached for her reading glasses.
* * *
Hi, Faith.
* * *
I was able to meet with Charity’s principal, and it wasn’t great news. Guess I was right to assume there are some “issues” here. Rather than a stellar first year, there are some problems and Charity is going to require a full-time mentor this summer. I know that youand I talked about just a couple of days a week, but that’s not going to work out. All the other spots are full for this summer, but I’d like to know first if you’d like to take this on. Let me know as soon as you can, please. Sorry for the change and I hope you’re enjoying your time at the beach.
* * *
Amy
* * *
Faith sure hadn’t seen that coming. She’d been thrilled that she could just teach two days and spend the rest with her friends at the beach. Her daughter Maggy had promised to come up from San Diego as much as she could, and she really wanted to help Jen with the repairs at the house. She’d been Jen’s “helper” with design things for years, and she’d been looking forward to this for months. And now, with the possibility that the house might go on the market, Jen needed her more than ever. And she wanted to be there to help.
The last school year had been her toughest one yet, and she pinched the bridge of her nose as she got out of bed and snuggled her feet into her flip flops.
She changed from her pajamas into shorts and a soft t-shirt, and flipped open her computer. One thing had kept her up all night as she tossed and turned, and she thought maybe she had it worked out in her head but would be more comfortable seeing it on her budget worksheet.
She punched in the numbers she’d come up with. It was pretty clear in black and white that she’d do much better if she took the assignment, but after calculating what she had been going to make only two days a week, she moved numbers around to see if she could do without for three months.
It would be tight. Very tight. She stood up and paced on the deck. The sun had peeked over the hills behind the harbor and glistened on the smooth water, boats of all sizes bobbing as the harbor met the day. The seagulls followed the fishing boats and a few sea lions squatted on the swim steps of docked boats, sunning themselves in the early morning light.
She took in a deep breath, the salty, cool air warming her. The aroma of coffee curled up the stairs, and Faith knew what she had to do. She’d planned for this, looked forward to this, and she knew someone else could help Charity as much as she could. She had something more important to do—something that mattered more to her than money.
Carrie stretched on the balcony and then reached for her walking shoes. She glanced at her watch—she’d need to leave soon if she was going to be at Mama’s Kitchen by nine, which was what she and Faith and Jen had arranged last night. But she did have time for coffee. There was always time for coffee.
She’d fallen right into bed when she’d gotten home and when she went downstairs, she realized that her phone was beeping with missed phone messages. All from her mother.
No phone call to her mother could happen without a little coffee in her veins, so she poured herself a mug and sat on the deck, listening to the voicemails. It appeared that a decision about co-chairing the donations for the fundraiser was an emergency, by the sound of her mother’s rising voice.
She supposed she’d put it off long enough, and as the caffeine began to course through her veins, she placed the call she’d been avoiding. She’d been surprised the night before when Jen and Faith had encouraged her to say yes, promising to help in any way they could. Since they wanted to help, she really had no reason to say no, and she supposed she might as well get it over with.
“Hello, Mother,” she said when her mom answered.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you’d run off somewhere, right when I need you.”
Carrie pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. Run off? She rarely went anywhere and had no idea where that had come from, but she knew her mother could bring in the drama when she felt ignored. She hadn’t been trying to ignore her mother, exactly. It had just taken some time for her to decide what to do.
She bit her lip and decided just to trust them. “No, I’m here. I’m calling to let you know I’ve decided to help. I’ll be the co-chair, but for donations only. Jen and Faith said they’d help me.”
“Oh, Jen and Faith. I’d forgotten all about them.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. Her mother had never forgiven Jen and Faith for—well, lots of silly things her mother perceived as bad. The list was too long to even remember, no matter how long ago.
“Well, you’ll be seeing them. They want to help. And donations only. No funny business, changing it into something else.”
Her mother breathed a very audible sigh. “Funny business? When have I ever—”
“Mother, you and I both know you have. There was the yacht club fundraiser where I was suddenly in charge of catering. I don’t cook nor do I know about that stuff.”
“Well, you’re right. That was a disaster.”
Jen nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. She was right. It had definitely been a disaster.
“Right. So learn your lesson. Donations only.”
Her mother sighed again. “Oh, all right. And I do appreciate it. Maude just hasn’t been able to hold up her end of the bargain.”
“I heard she sprained her wrist, Mom.”
“There are things that are more important than pain, Carrie. You know that. You don’t renege on a commitment when it comes to a fundraiser.”
Carrie stifled a laugh. Her mother was dedicated to the community and had a big role to play, but if the older woman was in pain, Carrie certainly could help with letting her off the hook. It was the least she could do. Especially for such a good cause.
“Okay, whatever you say. I’ll help. What do I need to do?”
“Let me find my notes.” Her mother fell silent for a moment, and Carrie could almost see her reaching for a very detailed list and timeline—which would only help Carrie pull this off, so she was grateful.
“All right, here we are. You’ve got a co-chair. So you may as well tell Faith and Jen that they can go about their business.”
A co-chair? Carrie had agreed to this assignment knowing that she, Jen and Faith would do it together. She didn’t need a co-chair and certainly didn’t want one.
“Mother, I don’t need a co-chair. We can do this, just the three of us.”
She heard her mother’s familiar sniff that she made when she didn’t approve.
“Well, that may be, but this gentleman is very familiar with large donors in the area and we need him to be involved.”
The hair on the back of Carrie’s neck bristled. “Mother, you’re not trying to set me up, are you?”
Her mother’s laugh was just a little too forced for her taste, but she said, “Of course not, dear. I’ve learned my lesson with that. He’s just a nice man. I’ll set up a meeting for you, too. Maybe for dinner? At the Pavilion? The foundation’s treat, for all your service.”
Carrie had a sneaking hunch that this wouldn’t go well, but she was experienced in telling men that she wasn’t interested. It really didn’t matter if her mother was trying to set her up. It wouldn’t work, and she might get a little help with donations after it was all said and done.
“All right. Fine. Just let me know what night and what time.”
“Thank you, dear. I do appreciate it, and the fou
ndation appreciates it as well. I’ll make the reservation and let you know the details. You just go. I promise, you’ll like him.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. What’s his name? I can ask for him at the hostess station.”
“He’s quite the successful realtor around town. Maybe you already know him. Dirk. Dirk Crabtree.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jen settled Daisy beside the outdoor table she and Faith had slid right into at Mama’s Kitchen.
“Lucky day,” Faith said as she looked around at the crowded café.
“Yep. The sun is shining, there was a free table, it’s Saturday—all is right with the world.”
Daisy’s tongue lolled to one side and she panted after the long walk they’d just taken on the beach. Jen slid a bowl of water toward her that the waitress had delivered with a smile.
Carrie rushed in, looking and sounding a little like Daisy. She sat down and gulped a glass of water as the waitress slid her a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, Sadie,” she said gratefully. Sadie had been waiting on them for many summers now, and it was nice to see the familiar face.
“You’re out of breath. What’s up? Did you run here?” Faith asked the question first before Jen even had a chance to tell them.
Carrie took another gulp of water and held her hand to her chest. She seemed a little frantic. “You’re not going to believe what happened.”
“Spill,” Jen said, leaning forward on the table. Carrie didn’t frequently get flustered like this, and she couldn’t wait to find out why she had. She was a little awkward, but it never seemed to bother her.
“I talked to my mom. Told her we’d be happy to take charge of the fundraiser. She was thrilled, by the way, and said to thank you both.”
Newport Harbor House Page 6
