A Newport Sunrise

by Cindy Caldwell

  "There she is," Jen said as she poured a glass of wine. "We've been dying to see what you brought for appetizers."

  "Ta-da." Carrie set the foil packets on the platter Jen had ready and opened the foil. The sandwiches were still warm and gooey, and both Faith and Jen gasped.

  "No. You went to The Shack?"

  "The very one. Remember when we used to jack your brother's Volkswagen van and drive down the coast, just to get these?"

  "Mmm." Jen nodded and clearly remembered.

  "That was before my time, but I have been since. What a treat," Faith said as she bit into one. "It has been a long time. And they never change. Always the same."

  Carrie's face clouded for a moment. "I figured we'd better get them while we can. Dirk went down to meet with the owners. Apparently, there's a big family rift and it might be sold."

  “Oh, no,” Jen said. "They've been there for —well, forever."

  "I know. And the menu's been the same the entire time, since I was a little kid."

  "That would be a real loss," Faith said as she helped herself to another perfect triangle of grilled cheese.

  "And I have more news," Carrie said, her stomach fluttering. She wasn't quite sure how to say it, because it sounded so silly. So she decided just to spit it out. "I guess I'm Dirk's girlfriend."

  Jen spit out her wine, and Faith stared at her and blinked a few times before she laughed.

  "What?" Jen asked after she'd wiped up the wine.

  "You know what I mean. I don't know exactly how to say it."

  Faith patted her on the knee. "Did he give you the ring from a box of Cracker Jacks?"

  "Okay, very funny," Carrie said, wondering how she could have ever thought they wouldn't tease her like this. "I just wanted to let my dearest friends know that we're —well, a 'thing'. That's all."

  “Well, congratulations,” Jen said. “We’re very happy for you, although it’s not a huge surprise.”

  Carrie gratefully accepted hugs from her friends, knowing they were, indeed, very happy for her.

  Faith stood and bent over the railing, waving to Mrs. Grover as she walked by. "Come on up," she said.

  "Speaking of 'things', Earl has been giving Mrs. Grover a flower every day on her way to work. It's really cute," Jen said. "She gets really flustered, but I think she likes it."

  "Aw, that's sweet." Carrie stood and handed Mrs. Grover a glass of wine and scooted over on the upholstered bench. She marveled at how much the older lady had transformed since they'd first met months ago when she mostly stared at them out of her window next door.

  "Hello, ladies," Mrs. Grover said as she took a seat beside Carrie. "Have I got news for you."

  "You and Earl are a thing," Jen blurted out, then looked as if she hadn't meant to say it.

  Mrs. Grover gasped, and said, "No, of course not. We haven't even stepped out together, nor has he asked me to. I don't move that fast, not like you ladies."

  "Wait a minute —" Carrie started, until she saw that Mrs. Grover was teasing her, too.

  "I'm just teasing. Honestly, I find him quite charming, and I certainly don't mind the flowers. But that's not what I was going to say." She turned to Faith with a big smile on her face, looking as if she might burst.

  "Faith, the pillows are all gone. Every last one of them."

  Carrie exchanged a quick glance with Jen. And Jen glanced into Faith's bedroom as if to verify that the pillows she'd designed were still on her bed. "What pillows are gone?" Jen finally asked.

  Faith looked stunned, and Carrie wasn't sure at all what was happening.

  "I —we —well, last weekend we were almost completely out of inventory. I asked Patti if we should just close down until she got back, and she said no. So I grabbed some bags of pillows I had just to fill the shelves."

  "And they all sold out, like hotcakes," Mrs. Grover added, looking very pleased. She held out a piece of paper to Faith. "And look at this.”

  Faith's eyebrows rose and she turned white.

  "Are you all right?" Jen asked, moving over to the deck chair next to Faith. She glanced down at the paper and her eyebrows rose, too. "Wow. That's nothing to sneeze at. That's good money for a fluke."

  Faith looked like she'd seen a ghost still. "I —I don't know what to say."

  "Wow, this is all very exciting," Carrie said. "Say you'll make some more."

  "I can't, really. I have to go back to work on Monday, and I'll be at the boutique over the weekend."

  Jen smiled and poked her thumb at the door to Faith's bedroom. "There are a lot of pillows on your bed. Tons downstairs and even some at Carrie's. We can at least bag those up."

  "But —" Faith didn't look all that excited about giving up her own pillows, and Carrie reached for the paper.

  She took a look and whistled. "No buts. This is great —a gift you can't ignore."

  Faith still didn't look convinced, and Jen took the paper from Carrie, waving it under Faith's nose.

  "Look, at least take in what you've already made, and we can come up with a plan. If they sell out again this weekend, you'll know what to do." She took another look at the number on the paper and nodded. "Faith, you have to. This could be your way to early retirement."

  Faith shook her head slowly. "I can't even imagine that, but okay. I can take in what I've got. You know, they're just things that I've made for myself, really, and for my friends. I can't imagine anybody would want them."

  Jen shook her head. "You don't see them the way other people do. They are unique, original designs. You couldn't find them in any store. Remember all the people who loved them during the open house? They're original and made with lots of love. Why wouldn't people want them?"

  Faith's eyes misted, and Carrie knew Jen was right.

  "Have faith, Faith," Carrie said, and Mrs. Grover giggled.

  "Yes. You'll see tomorrow. People were clamoring to buy them, and I'm sure it will be the same."

  Faith took the paper and tucked it in her pocket. "I'm sure it's just because there's nothing else in the store."

  Carrie exchanged quick glances with Jen and Mrs. Grover. She was positive that wasn't the reason —she could feel it. And even if Faith didn't know it yet, this was truly a gift to her.

  And it looked like it would have to be her dearest friends to convince her she deserved it.

  Twenty-Six

  Faith could barely go near the pillow section —actually the only section with any inventory in the store —without feeling nauseous. The weekend had been busy for that time of year, and every time a customer got close to the pillows, Faith turned toward the incense. She would have plugged her ears if she wouldn't have looked ridiculous.

  Mrs. Grover, however, seemed to relish in describing the detail, craftsmanship and unique designs of the pillows. After listening to her for almost two days now, Faith had gotten a little less anxious. Not much, but a little.

  They'd sold almost all the pillows by the time a woman came in near closing time on Sunday. She had an air about her that Faith had seen many, many times before in Newport —money, definitely, and a sense about her that she spent a fair amount of time traveling. Maybe even had more than one home, like many people in Newport.

  "Hello," Faith said as the woman approached the cash register. "Can I help you with something?"

  The woman's diamond earrings sparkled in the fading sunlight, and she set her very expensive designer purse on the counter.

  "My dear friend, Mrs. Westland, said I just had to come in and see these pillows. We're looking for last minute things —my house is on the Thanksgiving home tour this year and there are just so many last-minute details. We've been searching for over a year for the perfect throw pillows for my living room sofa and haven't had any luck. She said I just have to see these, that they —"

  She stopped mid-sentence and her eyes widened. She walked over toward the pillows and sighed. "She was right. This is exactly what I've been looking for."

  She turned one of the pillows ov
er, her hand stroking the beautiful, light green satin. She fingered the sea glass beads that dotted the corners and held it up to the window, shaking it.

  It actually had been one of Faith's favorite designs, and one of the few that she'd made into a series. They were made from the same fabric with varying appliqués and different beads —some clear, several topaz, some sea glass.

  Mrs. Grover had liked them particularly, too, and had said they'd go perfectly in her living room.

  Faith had laughed earlier in the day when she noticed that the price on those particular pillows had mysteriously doubled —and she'd thought Mrs. Grover had done that just so nobody else would buy them. She figured it was a pretty safe bet at that silly price, and she intended to gift them to Mrs. Grover at some point.

  The woman finally glanced at the price tag and gasped.

  Faith stomach immediately knotted, but she reminded herself that Mrs. Grover wanted the pillows, and the price was ridiculous.

  She almost fainted when the woman said, "And they're a bargain, too. I'll take all of them."

  Mrs. Grover looked as shocked as Faith felt, and they rang up the sale in stunned silence.

  "Thank you. They're going to put me over the top in the competition," the woman said as she flounced out the door and immediately pulled out her cell phone.

  "Well, whaddya know?" Mrs. Grover asked as they watched the woman walk down the main street. She was clearly thrilled with her purchase and telling someone all about it.

  "I —don't know. Not at all." Faith wasn't lying —she really couldn't wrap her head around what had just happened.

  "Did you catch who she said had sent her in?" Mrs. Grover asked, one eyebrow raised.

  "No, I didn't. Who?" Faith had been too shocked that the woman even wanted to see the pillows to remember much of what she'd said.

  "She said Mrs. Westland. Carrie's mom."

  Faith turned toward Mrs. Grover, surprised. "Oh, it couldn't have been Carrie's mom. There have to be lots of Westlands around here."

  Mrs. Grover laughed. "Nope. Just the one. And she runs the Thanksgiving home tour, you know."

  Faith turned the sign hanging on the door from OPEN to CLOSED. She hadn't known that, actually, and couldn't imagine why Carrie's mom would send somebody in. She hadn't even seen Faith's pillows —had she?

  There was only one way to find out, and she hoped Carrie would stop by for dinner tonight before Faith headed back to school for her last week before Thanksgiving break. And if she didn't, she'd make a point of calling her.

  Twenty-Seven

  "Maybe," Carrie answered when Faith asked if she'd sent her mother in.

  Faith shook her head. "You didn't have to do that. But thank you."

  "You're welcome. I figured it couldn't hurt. She knows everybody in the entire world. Well, the world of Newport, anyway."

  "So, I take it things went well." Jen set the lasagna she'd made on the table.

  "That smells delicious," Faith said, her stomach reminding her that she'd been so nervous at the boutique that she hadn't eaten lunch.

  "My first attempt at Mrs. Russo's recipe. We'll see," Jen said, setting down salad and garlic bread.

  Faith filled them in over dinner, and they seemed much more excited than she was herself. And not nearly as surprised.

  "Of course, they are selling. They're gorgeous."

  "Mm," Carrie said as she set her fork down on her empty plate. "That was really good."

  Jen nodded. "Not bad for a first try. I don't want to give Joe any leftovers, though. I don't think it compares to his mom's."

  "I think it's just as good," Faith said, patting her tummy which had thankfully stopped rumbling.

  Jen shook her head. "No. Not enough white pepper, I don't think."

  "Okay, so you tell me the pillows are 'gorgeous' and I'm supposed to believe you. Yet when I say the lasagna is just as good, you poo-poo me?" Faith asked, her arms crossed.

  Jen opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "Touché," she said finally.

  Carrie took the last sip of her Chianti and set her glass down. "You're both right. The pillows are gorgeous, the lasagna was great.”

  Jen laughed as she stood to clear the table.

  Faith hopped up for her regular job of putting away leftovers.

  "Make sure to take some home with you for dinner this week," Jen said, and Faith happily obliged.

  "So, what are you going to do now?" Carrie dried the dishes Jen handed her and set them on the island.

  "Good question," Faith said as she got ready to leave. She'd packed her bags earlier and set them by the door, ready to head back inland for the week. "I think I have some more pillows at home in my work room, but I'll have to look. This is my last week at school before Thanksgiving, but I can't really make any more. It'll be really busy with the kids."

  Carrie groaned. "I can't believe it's almost Thanksgiving. That came fast."

  "Sure did," Jen added. "I've been busy watching this roof project, but I really could tear myself away, Faith. If I knew how to make your pillows, I would. I really don't need to watch them. It's mostly just been for entertainment, and they should be done this week anyway."

  "That's okay. Thank you, though. Patti will be back soon, and this'll all be over soon."

  Carrie's phone dinged with a texted. "Hm," Carrie said after she'd read the message. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

  "What do you mean?" Faith asked.

  "It's from my mom. She said you need to have cards printed by next weekend for Mrs. Bradley to set on the end tables by your pillows. People will ask, and it's easier to have a card to hand them. With your business name on it."

  "I —I don't have cards. Or even a business name," Faith stammered. "This is silly. Nobody's going to want one anyway."

  Carrie set her hand gently on Faith's shoulder. "Faith, you're smarter than that. Look at all the pillows you sold just this week. Remember the numbers on the paper? That's real money. That's what you've always said you wanted. To retire."

  "Right," Jen added gently, settling on the stool next to her friend. "This is what you've always said you wanted. Yeah, it seems like a fluke but it's certainly a divine gift so far. You can't stop now. Besides, you're always the one saying that you know what's right when you know it. And I think you know it this time, too. You're just scared."

  Faith knew they were both right. She was scared. She'd always been happy teaching, helping her little kindergartners start their school path. But now she was faced with a fork in her own path, she wasn't at all sure which way to go.

  "This was all getting to be too much for her, and her stomach was in knots again.

  Jen stopped washing dishes and stared at Faith. Jen folded her arms over her chest and glanced at Carrie. "Well, you'd better get busy. A name and then cards."

  "How about Faith's Perfect Pillows?" Carrie said, and Jen laughed.

  "No, that's not fancy enough. Pillows for Posterity?"

  Carrie shook her head. "Nah, I don't like that one."

  "Hm. We're not very good at this," Jen said.

  Faith groaned. "I can't think of a name, either. I don't even know how you do that." Faith really didn't. She hadn't needed business cards as a teacher.

  Jen snapped her fingers and grinned. "Too bad you don't know anybody who is a marketing professional," Carrie said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Knows all about branding. In fact, even helps companies do that very thing."

  Faith sighed. “Yeah, that would be nice. I could use some help."

  Jen rolled her eyes and Faith wondered why she was laughing so hard. "Faith. Did you forget about Maggy? Her MBA? A marketing professional?"

  Faith closed her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I did. I don't think of her that way. She's always just my little girl."

  Jen wrapped her arm around Faith's shoulder. "She'll always be your little girl. But let her help you. Lord knows how much you've sacrificed to help her. Put her through school, even. She'd be honored to be able to help you for
a change. I'm positive she would be."

  Twenty-Eight

  It took at least five tries for Faith to actually will her fingers to call Maggy on the drive home. She'd start to dial, then hang up. She wasn't at all sure how to describe this silly turn of events.

  Jen and Carrie seemed sure that Faith should play this out, but never in her wildest dreams had she believed that people might want to buy her pillows. There was no way she could wrap her head around the possibility that they might be her ticket to early retirement.

  She finally screwed up the courage to call her daughter, though, having promised Jen and Carrie that she would.

  "Hi, Mom. How was your weekend?" Maggy said when the call went through.

  Everything came out in a rush, and Faith couldn't stop until she was done with the entire story —from Patti leaving to Faith's split-second decision to fill the shelves to the request for business cards. It all seemed so strange.

  Maggy was silent for a moment, and then started laughing.

  "What's so funny?" Faith asked, feeling a little defensive.

  "You, that's what's so funny."

  Faith frowned. "What do you mean?"

  Maggy sighed. "What I mean is —my whole life you've told me that things happen for a reason. That we shouldn't over-think them, and we certainly had a responsibility to walk through open doors. At least that's what you said."

  Faith nodded, even though Maggy couldn't see her. "And I meant it."

  "Sounds like you meant it for everybody but yourself. Mom, if this isn't an open door, I don't know what is."

  "Oh," Faith said softly. "I guess you're right."

  Maggy laughed again. "Of course, I'm right. You're just scared. And I can help you if you'll let me. This is actually my job. What I do with the education you and Dad paid for. You might as well get a return on your investment."

  Faith squirmed in the car seat. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, grateful for hands-free phones as she felt like she might cry, and she didn't need to get in an accident on top of everything else. "You know I never expected anything like that. I did that because I love you."