Zoey’s aunt was consistently gracious to everyone, so she couldn’t imagine her saying or doing anything so offensive it would have caused an estrangement that lasted for years. For decades. Nor could she quite believe that a simple attempt to help her aunt get interested in a hobby, or something to get her out of the house, had led them down this path of reminiscences, and that Mr. Witherell had come up again for what seemed the dozenth time since she’d been on the island. But clearly something was troubling Ivy, so Zoey proceeded cautiously. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Ivy hesitated, her eyes brimming. “You know I don’t like to speak ill of anyone.”
Zoey did know that; it was the reason Ivy never directly said Sylvia’s father was abusive. It was why she called her own father influential instead of opinionated or domineering. And said that Mark “isn’t good at demonstrating affection,” rather than admitting most of the time he was too self-centered to care about anyone else’s feelings. Her aunt’s tendency to sugarcoat the truth used to drive Zoey nuts.
“Why doesn’t Aunt Ivy see how conniving Mark is?” she’d asked her mother once.
“Just because she doesn’t say it doesn’t mean she doesn’t see it,” her mother had replied. “She grew up in a different era, with a mother who told her if she couldn’t say something nice, not to say anything at all. And a father who didn’t want her speaking her mind, period. Besides, what’s the harm in demonstrating a little grace instead of calling attention to someone’s flaws?”
Zoey acknowledged to her aunt, “You’re always very generous in your attitude toward others. But if talking about it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to tell me about your fight with Mr. Witherell.”
“It wasn’t a fight. No, nothing like that. But I did use stern words—too stern,” Ivy brooded. “Looking back, I wish I hadn’t, but I didn’t know how else to stop him from pestering Sylvia.”
Once again, Ivy’s revelation made Zoey feel as if she had to lift her jaw off the floor. Mr. Witherell had once been bothering Sylvia? That just proves how wrong Gabi’s theory about them was—he didn’t even like her, she reassured herself. “What do you mean, he was pestering her?”
“He wrote her a couple of letters. Two or maybe three. Then he’d drop them through the mail slot here at the house. She wouldn’t show them to me or tell me what they said, but the letters flustered her so badly that she’d cry and run upstairs to her room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on—he didn’t want her to get involved with Marcus.”
Zoey’s heartbeat skittered. Was Gabi right after all? Had Sylvia and Mr. Witherell been a couple? She struggled to sound casual when she asked, “Why not?”
“I couldn’t be certain because Sylvia was so modest and wouldn’t talk about it, but I assumed it was because he wanted to date her. Maybe he’d even gone out with her once or twice. As you know, Sylvia was quite a looker. A lot of men’s hopes were dashed when she married Marcus. Although it’s funny that Phineas found out that she was falling for my brother, since they never went out in public together. She must have confided her feelings for him to one of the maids from the boarding house and the girl let it slip. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here.”
Even if Mr. Witherell didn’t want Sylvia and Marcus to date because he wanted to date her, that doesn’t necessarily mean she was pregnant with Mr. Witherell’s baby, Zoey reasoned as Ivy continued her story.
“Sylvia never answered Phineas’s notes so one day instead of dropping an envelope through the slot, he rang the bell. Sylvia and I both went to answer it at the same time. When she saw who was standing there, she turned as white as a sheet. She might have fainted if I hadn’t helped her to the kitchen and given her a cold drink. Marcus was upstairs napping so I had to take control of the situation myself. I returned to where Phineas was waiting on the step and—oh, Zoey, I shouldn’t have been so harsh…” When Ivy dissolved into tears, Zoey went over and perched on the arm of the chair, patting her aunt’s shoulder.
“It was so many years ago. And I’m sure whatever you said, your intentions were good—you were protecting Sylvia.” Probably because you knew how cruel her family had been to her.
“Yes, I was, but I shouldn’t have hurt Phineas in the process.” Ivy pulled a tissue from where she kept it folded in the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed her cheeks, confessing, “I told him he was a bully for harassing a docile young woman like Sylvia, instead of accepting it that she wasn’t interested in him. He tried to say Sylvia wasn’t as innocent as I thought and that he was only looking out for our family. You know what he was implying, don’t you?”
Yes. That she was pregnant with his child, Zoey thought, her heart palpitating. “What?”
“That she was only interested in Marcus for his money.” Ivy shook her head in disgust. “So I said, “Phineas, if you were any kind of gentleman, you’d bow out gracefully. But since you aren’t a gentleman, as long as Sylvia is living in my home, I don’t want you darkening my doorstep. I don’t even want you coming through the front gate.’ Then I warned him if he couldn’t be civil to her in public, he shouldn’t bother speaking to me, either.”
“That’s not so bad at all, Aunt Ivy. You had to be firm with him.” Although you may not have known the whole story.
“Perhaps, but you should have seen how forlorn he looked.”
“Did he apologize?”
“That’s the worst part. I didn’t give him a chance—I slammed the door in his face. And he scampered off like a kicked puppy.” Ivy cried harder.
Setting aside the remote possibility that Mr. Witherell may have been right about Sylvia’s intentions, Zoey replied, “You and Aunt Sylvia were like sisters. If anyone had insulted Jessica’s character, I would have said something a lot worse. It was necessary for you to establish your boundaries. To tell him what kind of behavior was unacceptable. Who knows, maybe by being firm you set a good example for Aunt Sylvia. Maybe that’s how she found the strength to ask the police to leave when they wanted to take her to the hospital the time she went up to the widow’s walk.”
Ivy blotted her eyes and then blew her nose. “I didn’t realize I’d told you the story about the police coming to the house. Sometimes I think Mark is right—I’m becoming too forgetful.”
Oops. Ivy hadn’t told her; Zoey had heard about it from her mother. Fortunately, her aunt didn’t give her the chance to clarify.
“You know, I always suspected Mr. Witherell was the one who called the police that night.”
“What makes you think that?”
Her aunt turned her palms up. “Who else would have spotted her up there at that hour? He had the perfect vantage point from the lighthouse.”
Thinking aloud, Zoey asked, “Do you think he did it out of revenge—to get her in trouble with the police or to humiliate her in front of her neighbors?”
“Revenge? Not at all. I think he was genuinely concerned for her safety. Just like when he reported boats for speeding or bonfire parties on the beach, it was because he didn’t want someone getting hurt. Most people never understood that about him.” Ivy grew silent for a moment before murmuring, “Gulls in his lantern room.”
Zoey didn’t understand the non sequitur and her heart thrummed with alarm. Was her aunt speaking gibberish? “What did you say?”
“Do you know the expression, ‘you have bats in your belfry’?” Ivy asked and when Zoey nodded, she said, “That’s what they used to say about Mr. Witherell. Except they’d say he had ‘gulls in his lantern room’ from living alone in the lighthouse for so long. It wasn’t clever. It was cruel. I didn’t appreciate him making Sylvia so upset, but I think certain people haven’t shown him enough respect.”
Yeah, including Mark. “Well, you weren’t disrespectful to him, Aunt Ivy. I’ve seen you and Aunt Sylvia pass him in the streets and you’ve always been cordial. He has, too. And he came to Aunt Sylvia’s funeral. That must mean he isn’t holding anything against you.” And it might mean mor
e than that, Zoey realized.
“He came to Marcus and Denny’s funerals, too. He said he was very sorry. I didn’t know if he meant because they’d died or if he was apologizing for what he said that day he came to the house. Either way, I think that’s when we tacitly agreed to let bygones be bygones. We never chatted with each other the way we did the summer after my mother died, but at least things were less strained between us.”
“Then maybe he’d be open to a closer friendship again now.” Zoey knew it was a reach but she added, “He loves to walk and you used to, too. I know sometimes your angina flares up, but maybe if Dr. Laurent says it’s okay and you built your endurance, little by little…?”
Ivy waved a finger at her. “Now look who’s matchmaking! Next thing I know you’ll be pairing us up for cribbage.”
That wasn’t what Zoey had in mind but she laughed, pleased her aunt’s mood seemed lighter. Then Ivy said she was getting tired and Zoey walked her up the stairs. On the first landing, her heart hurt so acutely Zoey told her to sit on the step while she ran and got her a nitroglycerin pill. Ivy placed it beneath her tongue, holding her hand to her chest and rocking her upper torso. If Zoey hadn’t seen this happen before, she would have called 9-1-1 but Ivy’s cardiologist said she could take up to three nitro pills in a row, at five-minute intervals. She had never needed more than one, but tonight she had to take two before the pain subsided and she felt comfortable enough to climb the rest of the steps. Her angina is always worse if she exerts herself after being upset, Zoey acknowledged. I wonder if that will pass in time or if I should suggest that she might benefit from a stair lift, especially once I leave…
She helped Ivy with her nightly regimen and then sat beside her as she drifted in and out of sleep. Zoey considered canceling her interview the next day. But she’d scheduled it so early in the morning that she wouldn’t have been able to give the staff advance notice that she wasn’t coming. Also, she’d already picked up the rental car and she was close to maxing out her last credit card so she didn’t want to add another charge if she could avoid it. Besides, her aunt seemed fine now, as she always did after the medication kicked in.
When Ivy’s breathing grew heavy and rhythmic, Zoey sneaked out of the room. Noticing there was no light shining from beneath Gabi’s door even though it was barely nine-thirty, she decided she might as well go to bed, too, since she had to catch the early morning ferry.
But instead of sleeping, Zoey ruminated over what Ivy had disclosed about Sylvia and Mr. Witherell. While she tried to rein in her imagination, there were just enough similarities between her aunt’s and her niece’s stories to make it seem almost plausible that Mr. Witherell, not Marcus Sr., had fathered Marcus Jr. Whether that was true or not, one thing was for certain: Ivy had no clue about it.
Zoey had already concluded that Mark must have heard the same rumors Gabi heard when he attended school on Dune Island. But what she wondered now was if Ivy had told him the same story she’d just told Zoey about Mr. Witherell leaving letters for Sylvia at the house?
“Hey!” she said aloud and snapped her fingers before hushing herself. What if that’s what he was looking for in the attic—Mr. Witherell’s letters to Aunt Sylvia? Zoey had straightened the boxes in her aunt’s trunk the day she’d injured herself, but maybe she should take a more thorough look at their contents?
She quickly dismissed the impulse. If the letters affected Sylvia as deeply as Ivy said they did, she wouldn’t have saved them. And if she had kept them, Mark surely had discovered and destroyed them already. But even if there was a million-in-one chance that Zoey did find them and they indicated Sylvia was pregnant with Mr. Witherell’s son, what then? Her aunt had already told her how upset she’d gotten when Mr. Witherell suggested Sylvia wasn’t as meek as she acted. As Zoey had told Gabi, she had to consider how hurt her aunt would feel to find out he’d been right. Especially because she’d already shared the better part of her life—and her wealth—with her sister-in-law, as well as with Marcus Jr. and with Mark.
If the new stove has taught me anything, it’s to leave well enough alone. And that’s what Zoey was going to have to do about the issue of Marcus Jr.’s paternity, too—even if the curiosity was killing her.
Chapter Eight
Usually Zoey experienced a rush of excitement as she drove into the city, but today she’d felt as if the traffic and high-rises were closing in on her. Nick’s phrase, “a cell of an office” came to mind more than once during her tour of the library, although she did like the staff and could imagine herself being happy working with them. And while she regretted not being able to meet up with her friend Lauren after work, Zoey was equally glad that for her aunt’s sake, she had to leave the city immediately after her interview. Or almost immediately; she stopped to get the sausages she’d promised her aunt first.
When she pulled into the driveway and saw Nick’s truck, she practically skipped to the back door, expecting to find him and Ivy drinking coffee in the kitchen. She hoped he had convinced her to try out the oven. They weren’t there but there was noise—almost like voices, but not exactly—coming from the living room. Was Ivy weeping? I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone today, Zoey thought, hurrying to greet them.
“Hi, Nick. Hi, Aunt Ivy.”
As soon her aunt saw her, she gasped. “Oh, Zoey, you’re safe! I’ve been so worried.” Her nose and eyes were red-rimmed and there was a box of tissues on her lap. She pulled one out and wiped her cheeks, and then added it to the pile on the coffee table.
“Yes, I’m safe and sound.” Zoey cocked her head, confused. “Why? Did you hear about an accident on the radio or TV?”
Nick quickly explained, “Your aunt said you’ve been gone for hours and she didn’t know where you went. We tried your cell, but we couldn’t reach you and we couldn’t get a hold of Gabi to ask her, either. I even checked with the hospital to see if you returned for a follow-up appointment.”
“I-I went to my interview in Providence. Remember, Aunt Ivy?” It was a stupid question, something Mark would have asked. If Ivy had remembered she wouldn’t have been crying and frantically trying to locate her. “I’m sorry you were worried. I turned off my phone so it wouldn’t ring while I was meeting with the director. I must have forgotten to turn it on again. I feel terrible.”
“No, no. I should have remembered,” Ivy said, pulling another tissue from the box. “But when I couldn’t get you, I thought you went swimming alone again and that you might have dived in and bumped your head on a rock.”
There weren’t any sizeable rocks in the bay on Rose Beach and Zoey was still avoiding the water because of the sore on her leg, but she didn’t point that out. She knew her aunt had an irrational but understandable fear of her loved ones drowning ever since the boating accident. She gave her a hug, repeating, “I’m sorry I worried you, Aunt Ivy. Next time, I’ll leave you a note or put a reminder on the calendar.”
Her aunt inhaled and straightened her shoulders, gathering her composure. “Now that you’re here, I’ll make lunch. How does lemon pepper chicken sound? It will be my first time using the oven, but in the old one it didn’t take more than thirty minutes.”
“I’d love to have chicken for lunch, but Nick probably has to get back to work now, don’t you?”
“Yeah. As tempting as it is to stay, I need to pick up an order at the lumber yard.”
When Zoey noticed how crestfallen Ivy appeared, she seized the opportunity to suggest her aunt could make a lasagna and Nick and Aidan could come for supper instead.
“That sounds great, but I’m working late every day this week.”
Now it was Zoey’s turn to feel disappointed, until Ivy asked, “What about on Sunday?”
We’ll have to freeze the sausage I picked up in Providence until then, but that’s okay, Zoey thought when Nick accepted the invitation. She told her aunt she had to move the rental car because she was blocking Nick from leaving, but that she’d be right back in for lunch.
&
nbsp; Once outside, Zoey said, “I can’t thank you enough for staying with my aunt until I got here. She’s never forgotten something major like this before, ever. But last night she was really upset about something and I think she’s overly tired.” Zoey didn’t know whether she was trying to convince herself or Nick.
“I’m glad I could be here for her. Except…” Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a pebble onto the grass before meeting her eyes. “I called Mark. Not because we couldn’t find you but because your aunt was having chest pain and I thought we should call 9-1-1. She insisted her physician would have advised her to take a nitro pill, first. I was really torn—I felt it was important for someone in the family to know what was going on in case…”
“It’s not a problem,” Zoey heard herself saying even though it was a big problem. Mark was going to have a field day with this one. “I would have done the same thing if I were with someone else’s family member and I didn’t have any knowledge of their medical history. I might have even called 9-1-1 regardless of what they told me. You can’t be too careful, especially when it comes to cardiovascular symptoms.”
“I’m glad you’re not upset. After that last conversation we had, I didn’t want you to think I was intruding.”
“No. I appreciate it that you were so conscientious about my aunt’s health.” Zoey took a deep breath. “So, was Mark… helpful?”
“Uh, well, when I first called he wasn’t there, so I left a message. By the time he called me back, Ivy’s pain was gone. And she’d already called the cardiologist, primarily so I’d feel more comfortable. The doc said she did the right thing but if the pain got worse or didn’t go away after taking a couple of nitro pills, she should call an ambulance. I think he moved her annual appointment up a few weeks, too—you’ll have to check with her on that,” Nick rambled nervously. “Anyway, Mark confirmed she has a heart condition but he didn’t know what it was so he wouldn’t have been able to provide much insight anyway. He, uh, he was pretty upset even though the issue with Ivy’s heart had resolved itself.”
Aunt Ivy's Cottage: A totally gripping and emotional page turner Page 15
