“My house is small. It’s in Rockfield and we don’t have a water view but it’s one of only three houses on the street, so it’s nice and secluded.” Standing behind her, he took Zoey by the shoulders and angled her so she was facing southeast. “It’s right over there beyond those trees. It’s got a basketball hoop—the net is torn. See it?”
He was joking; Rockfield was too far away for her to distinguish any properties in particular except a church and the library. Zoey couldn’t concentrate anyway; all she could think about was how much she wanted to lean back against his chest and have him embrace her until the moon set. But he dropped his hand and pivoted toward the bay again, so she did, too.
The beacon from Sea Gull Lighthouse was more noticeable now that the sun was down and when it flashed in their direction, Nick remarked, “When I was young, I used to think one of the best jobs on Dune Island was to be the lighthouse keeper.”
“Because of the view?”
“Because of my sisters—they drove me nuts.” He grinned, his bright teeth still distinguishable in the waning light. “Like I said, we lived in a small house, so being a keeper seemed like an ideal arrangement. I figured I’d get to live alone and have the best bird’s-eye view of the harbor and beaches in Benjamin’s Manor. But now that I’ve been up here, I realize I was wrong—your aunt’s house has the best view.”
Thinking of Mr. Witherell, Zoey replied, “I imagine living in the lighthouse would get awfully lonely after a while.”
“Yeah. Once I got older, I wondered how Mr. Witherell managed to do it for all those years, especially without a wife or children for company. But maybe he became a keeper because he preferred living alone.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe he had no choice in the matter.
“Seems like a shame, though.”
Zoey swung around to look at him, wondering what else he’d heard about Mr. Witherell. Was he going to bring up the rumor about her aunt Sylvia? “What was a shame?”
“He had access to one of the most romantic views on the island, but he didn’t have anyone to share it with.”
Zoey relaxed, directing her gaze toward the bay again. “You want to hear something really romantic? My great-uncle Marcus proposed to my great-aunt Sylvia up here.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah. All sorts of romantic things have happened on this widow’s walk.” Laughing, she told him about how Jessica once sneaked up there with a boy, a lifeguard she’d been flirting with all vacation, to make out with him during his lunch break. She’d thought it was the perfect location since Zoey and her parents were at the beach and her aunts were napping. But their father had decided he’d gotten enough sun for the day, so he walked home. As he was tramping up the hill, he happened to glance toward the widow’s walk.
“Jess was pretty young—she’d never kissed anyone before—and the boy was at least three years older, so my father… well, let’s just say voices really travel from up here.” Zoey smiled, thinking about how her sister later told her that kissing the boy was worth every minute of being grounded.
“Did you ever sneak up here to kiss any boys when you were a teenager?”
“Me? No way.”
“Ah. You learned from your big sister’s mistake, right?”
“No, I just never had the chance. Jess was always more popular than I was when we were growing up. She looked just like Gabi. The boys loved her.”
Nick nudged her arm. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, listen.” Once again he gently took her by the shoulders, twisting her around to face him. Zoey could feel the warmth of his palms and fingertips through the fabric of her blouse. “If I had known you then, I definitely would have wanted to kiss you. Maybe not on a rooftop in broad daylight with your dad nearby, but yeah. I would have considered myself lucky.”
My father’s not here now and there’s hardly any daylight left… she thought, heady with longing. Tilting her chin upward, she peered at him from beneath her lashes. “Me, too,” she murmured.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Nick shifted his weight and Zoey let her lids fall closed as he began to caress her shoulder—but no, he was withdrawing his hand. He was moving away.
“The kids will be back soon, if they’re not back already,” he said. “We should go in now.”
“Yes, we should,” she agreed, since the since the moment, like the sky, had completely lost its luster.
Chapter Nine
During the next several days, Zoey puzzled over what happened on the widow’s walk between Nick and her. Rather, what didn’t happen between them. Although it was possible that it was merely wishful thinking on her part, she was almost positive he’d been about to kiss her. Then why didn’t he? Maybe he wanted to, but he changed his mind because he was afraid Gabi and Aidan might see us. Or because we both had spicy sausage breath, she guessed. Her aunt had said he didn’t have a girlfriend, but maybe he’d started seeing someone else since then—could that have been it?
Only a couple of months ago, Zoey had pledged she wouldn’t get involved with another guy until the fall, at least. And until a few weeks ago, she didn’t want anything to do with Nick. Yet here she was now, acting like a teenager, obsessing about whether he liked her or not. She’d even told Lauren about him. They had analyzed the minutiae of Nick’s behavior for over an hour and still hadn’t come to any conclusions. As frustrating as his behavior was, Zoey realized hers was even more pathetic and she finally resolved to put the incident—the non-incident—on the widow’s walk out of her mind.
Instead, she concentrated so intently on helping her aunt research kitchen designs and décor online that by Thursday she felt as if her eyes were crossing. The time and energy were worth it; Ivy’s crying jags decreased in number and intensity and she’d finally decided what she wanted for cupboards, countertops and a backsplash. Nick agreed to stop in later that evening to discuss her choices and make sure the design was workable.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she wavered all of a sudden.
It was almost four thirty and Zoey was sliding a chicken into the oven for supper, so her attention was on setting the timer, not on Ivy. “I really like what you selected, but if you’re not sure about it, you should ask Nick for his opinion.”
“I mean I still feel disloyal to Sylvia. It’s as if I’m trying to remove every trace of her from memory, isn’t it?” Ivy removed a tissue from her sleeve, a sure sign that she was on the brink of crying.
“Aunt Ivy, you couldn’t erase Aunt Sylvia from your mind if you tried. You were too much a part of each other’s lives. Of each other’s hearts. The countertops are superficial reminders—your memories go much deeper than that.” When Ivy blinked rapidly, fighting tears, Zoey quickly suggested, “Why don’t you choose one thing in this room that Aunt Sylvia picked out and keep it exactly as it is?”
Ivy’s eyes darted around the kitchen. Then her shoulders slumped and she wailed, “I can’t. Everything in here looks too awful.”
Zoey couldn’t disagree. Thinking quickly, she said, “Aunt Sylvia was the one who planted the rhododendron by that window. I realize it’s not technically inside the kitchen, but she loved to look at it when she did the dishes.”
“Yes, that’s true. And I did tell Nick I didn’t want to cut it down, so I suppose not every visual reminder of Sylvia will be gone, right?”
“Right,” Zoey agreed, just as there was a knock at the door. She expected it to be Aidan, who had been coming over to put down mulch and take care of the other spring yard work. But instead, it was Amy.
“Hi,” the girl chirped, stepping inside before Zoey invited her. “Gabi forgot her trig book at my house yesterday, only I didn’t know she’d left it there until she told me in class, otherwise I would have brought it to school today because she’s got a quiz tomorrow and she needs it to study,” she burbled before stopping to take a breath. “I’ll run upstairs and give it to her
real quick—my mom is parked outside.”
“Gabi’s not there,” Zoey informed her and Amy came to a halt. “She’s at band practice.”
“No, she’s not,” Amy contradicted, shaking her red curls. “We don’t have after-school practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays because we practice during sixth period instead. Seventh period on Friday. We only practice after school on Mondays and Wednesdays. That’s because some of the kids in band also play sports and the band director and coaches didn’t want to force them to choose just one activity.”
She spoke so fast Zoey couldn’t quite keep up with the schedule but she understood enough to know Gabi hadn’t been where she said she’d been after school. She took the book and assured Amy she’d give it to her niece. As the teenager hopped down the back steps, Zoey leaned against the wall in stunned disbelief. There has to be a good explanation for this, she thought, unwilling to accept that her niece had deliberately deceived her. That’s just not like her. We have a better relationship than that. Or was she fooling herself? Was it possible Zoey had a big blind spot about her niece, just like Ivy—and Sylvia, when she was alive—had a blind spot about Mark?
Zoey’s brooding was interrupted when her phone vibrated in her back pocket; it was the library director. She went into the living room to take the call and her disappointment in her niece was tempered by the news that she was being invited back for a second interview the following Thursday.
“They’ve only invited three of us back, so that increases my odds of getting the position,” she told her aunt after she got off the phone.
“That’s terrific!” Ivy clapped. Almost immediately, her face fell. “But if you get the job, you’ll have to return to Rhode Island, won’t you?”
Zoey didn’t want her aunt to start dreading her departure already. “Not until the end of the summer. That’s three full months away.”
“But you’ll still be coming to Benjamin’s Manor on weekends and vice versa, right?”
Zoey was surprised her aunt was willing to visit her in Providence, since she rarely left the island. “Yes, I’ll definitely come visit you. And I’d love it if you wanted to stay with me in Providence, too.”
“Me? No, no. I was speaking about you and Nicholas. Now that you two are an item, you don’t want to lose momentum, especially because he’s so skittish—”
“We’re not an item, Aunt Ivy.”
“You’re not?” She sounded almost as disappointed as Zoey had been that nothing romantic had come of their time alone on Sunday. “But you both seemed so eager to go out on the widow’s walk the other evening. I was sure you wanted privacy to smooch.”
“No, I think Nick was just excited because it was the first time he got to see the view from up there.”
“Aha, but you didn’t deny that you were eager to be alone with him,” Ivy exclaimed.
Once again, Zoey belatedly realized that her aunt had tricked her into disclosing the information she wanted to know. Since it was useless to deny it, she said, “You’re right. I was kind of hoping he’d kiss me and for a moment, it seemed as if he was going to. But he didn’t. So now it’s sort of like what you said about waiting for him to deal the cards in cribbage… I’m getting restless. I don’t really feel like playing any more.”
Ivy shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy. Someone needs to light a fire under him.”
Aware that this conversation would be fresh in her aunt’s mind when Nick came to the house later that evening, Zoey pleaded, “Aunt Ivy, you can’t tell him—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to embarrass you,” she promised. “Not today, anyway.”
After supper, Ivy went upstairs to shower before Nick arrived. Zoey was doing the dishes when Gabi came in and she wasted no time asking her niece where she’d been that afternoon.
“Where I always am,” the teenager nonchalantly replied, peering into the cupboard as she stood on tiptoe.
“I happen to know you weren’t at band practice, Gabi.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You implied it.” Zoey took a deep breath and then let it out. She had skirted the truth often enough herself to understand Gabi was hiding something, but hadn’t wanted to tell a boldfaced lie about it. That was a good sign, but Zoey still needed to know the whole truth. “If you weren’t at band practice, where were you?”
Gabi mumbled something Zoey couldn’t hear so she asked her to repeat it. “What does it matter to you whether I’m practicing my flute or not? You didn’t even come to my Christmas concert this year.”
The accusation plunged into Zoey’s heart. Was that why her niece never played her flute in the house? Because she thought Zoey didn’t want to hear it? Or because she was getting back at her for missing her performance? “I’m sorry, Gabi. I’m so proud of your talent and I wish—”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” She snapped the cupboard door shut and started to leave the room.
Zoey decided she’d talk to her about missing her Christmas concert again later, when Gabi was more receptive. For now, they had to stay on topic. “Hold on. We’re not done talking yet. I told you before that I trusted you and I do. But in return, I expect you to trust me by telling me the truth. So I’ll ask you again. What have you been doing after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
Gabi dipped her chin and picked at her fingernail, her hair veiling her face. “Hanging with my friends.”
Zoey wasn’t buying it. If her niece wasn’t hiding anything, why would she have led Zoey to believe she was at band practice all this time? “Where?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes, it matters.”
“Why? Aren’t I entitled to privacy? It’s not as if you tell your aunt everything about your life. You’ve even asked me to keep your secrets from her!”
Gabi’s point was beside the point, a distraction tactic. Zoey ignored it. As evenly as she could, she answered, “I’m an adult and you’re fourteen, so I’m legally responsible for you and I need to be sure you’re safe. I also need to know I can find you quickly if there’s an emergency here.”
“You sound just like Kathleen.”
Good. That means I must be doing something right. “So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been hanging out with your friends?”
She huffed. “At the beach.”
This entire island is a beach! “Which one?”
“I don’t remember what it’s called. I just moved here.”
“How about your friends’ names? Can you remember them?” Zoey shot back. When Gabi shrugged, she realized she was on the verge of losing patience, so she was silent a moment, trying not to let her frustration get the best of her. Her voice low, she tried again. “Listen, I understand that you want your privacy. Your freedom. And I’ve been very careful not to infringe on that. But when you won’t tell me what you’ve been doing, it makes me wonder all sorts of things. Like maybe you’re out with a boy, maybe Aidan, or—”
Gabi snickered in a way that reminded her exactly of Mark. “You don’t know anything.”
That was more than she could tolerate. Zoey glared at her, saying, “I’m not asking you to share every detail of your social life with me, Gabi. But I do need to know who you’re with and where you’re going. If you refuse to tell me that much, I have to assume it’s because you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing. So from now on, except on Mondays and Wednesdays when you have band practice, I expect you to come directly home from school.”
Gabi backed away and yelled, “Why? So I can sit around with my two old spinster aunts while they stare at a picture of a dead person and tell the same stories over and over again?”
She stomped out of the room but before she reached the stairs, Zoey raced into the hall and shouted the first comeback she could think of. “For your information, I’m not old—I’m thirty-eight. And Aunt Ivy’s not a spinster. She’s a widow!”
Her hands shaking, she returned to the sink an
d filled a glass with water but she couldn’t drink it. She heard a rustle in the living room. Please let that be Moby, she thought. But when she approached the threshold she saw Ivy in her usual chair, a newspaper folded on her lap. She hadn’t gone upstairs to shower after all; she must have heard everything.
“I’m so sorry, Auntie.” Zoey squatted in front of her, touching her knees. “She’s behaving like a little monster. Just like her mother used to.” Although Jessica rarely wielded it, she’d had a formidable mean streak. “Gabi didn’t mean those things. She was lashing out at me. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, either.”
“She’s right, though. I do tell the same stories over and over.” Ivy seemed so far away. So withdrawn. As if she’d closed herself up, like one of Sylvia’s tulips in the evening.
“I love hearing your stories,” Zoey insisted. “Especially that one about the time Captain Denny tried to surprise you on your twenty-fifth birthday and you stumbled upon his gift. Where had he hidden it again?”
But Ivy shook her head. “Not tonight, dear.”
Seeing the pain on her aunt’s face, Zoey felt like sending Gabi on the next flight back to California. Then she wished she could fly away…
Instead, she offered to make tea for her aunt and while the water was heating, she finished putting away the dishes. Everything’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay, she repeated. But she only half-believed herself—which seemed fair, considering she could only half-believe what anyone else told her lately, either.
Zoey figured she’d start anew with her niece in the morning, but Gabi didn’t come downstairs for breakfast and she left the house without saying goodbye. Nick had come by the previous evening—looking as handsome as ever, in a shirt which showed off his biceps even more than usual—to discuss the new kitchen design, and had confirmed that Zoey could begin painting the cupboards and drawers. So Zoey turned her attention to emptying the cabinets and carrying their contents to the dining room so she could clean, prime and prep. Since Ivy hadn’t commented about being cold for a while and she no longer wore a long-sleeved sweater, Zoey decided she could open the windows and start painting on Monday.
Aunt Ivy's Cottage: A totally gripping and emotional page turner Page 18
