Barefoot in the Sand

by Holly Chamberlin

  Geraldine went to the scarred wooden bureau and opened the top drawer. From it she removed a packet of envelopes, tied with a dark blue ribbon, and handed it to Arden. “No one knows I have these. I found them a few days after Rob went missing.”

  Arden sat on the edge of the bed and carefully removed the ribbon. The envelopes were slightly yellowed. She opened the first, glanced at the pages inside, then hurriedly peeked into the other envelopes. “They’re letters and poems, addressed to me. But why didn’t he send them?” And then she thought she knew. They would have been evidence of the relationship. Even giving them to Victoria in person would have been too risky: What if they were found by her parents? Maybe Rob had intended to give them to her once they were married. They would have made an extraordinary wedding gift.

  “When I realized that the papers were personal,” Geraldine explained, “and had nothing to do with Rob’s going missing, I tucked them away. I didn’t want strangers to get their hands on them. I suppose I intended to give them all to you one day, but before I was ready to pass them along, you had left town and no one knew where you had gone.”

  Arden retied the ribbon around the bundle and held it close to her heart. If Mrs. Smith had given the papers to the police, it would have become known that Victoria and Rob had been a couple; it would have given the police reason to look closely at any involvement by the Aldridges in Rob’s disappearance. But the police had been in the pay of Herbert Aldridge. Rob’s papers would have been destroyed.

  “You’ve given me a real treasure,” Arden said earnestly. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Mrs. Smith shook her head. “I can’t imagine how difficult this all is for you, knowing your parents are responsible for, well, for taking Rob away from you. The bond between a parent and child is so precious. To have it severed by betrayal . . .” Mrs. Smith shook her head. “At least now you have the opportunity to be a parent to your own child.”

  Arden looked fondly at the woman who would have been her mother-in-law. “What did you think all those years ago? Did you have any suspicion that I might be pregnant?”

  “I did wonder if there was a child on the way.” Geraldine sat now next to Arden on Rob’s bed. “But, for better or worse, I never attempted to confront your parents and ask for the truth. They were—”

  “Yes. I understand.”

  “Frannie, though, she fought as best she could for access to Herbert Aldridge and for justice for Rob. But her best wasn’t good enough, and my husband and I didn’t know how to help her.”

  Arden took Geraldine’s hand. “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  “I felt very bad for you. I liked you and I was glad you and Rob had each other. Maybe I should have tried to reach out to you. . . .” Geraldine shook her head. “We should get back to the others. Rob will be boring young Laura with tales of her father’s Little League days or some such.”

  Arden, holding Rob’s gift close, followed Geraldine from the room and back downstairs.

  Laura, Frannie, and Rob senior were drinking coffee from mugs. When Arden took her seat next to Laura, Frannie poured another cup and handed it to Arden.

  Arden gratefully took a sip of the hot coffee. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing Laura and me into your lives. I—I wish I could make up to you for what my family did to yours. But there’s no way I can, is there?”

  “Being here with Laura is a good start,” Frannie said firmly.

  “And with you, Vicky,” Rob senior added.

  Arden smiled. She remembered how her father had called her Victoria the day before. So much of a person’s identity resided in the memories of others. Victoria. Vicky. Arden. She was all of those people.

  “What will happen to your father?” Frannie asked. “Now that he’s admitted to his crimes.”

  Arden looked to Laura and shook her head. “I really don’t know. I’ve never been close to a criminal case before.”

  “Like you,” Laura said, looking to Frannie, “I want to see justice done for my father.”

  “Punishing a sick old man won’t bring back our Rob,” Geraldine said.

  “We’ll let people in the know sort it all out,” Rob senior added with a firm nod.

  Frannie looked as if she was going to argue with her father’s statement, but when she spoke, it was to say that the family had decided to hold another memorial service for Rob in September. “The whole family will be coming to Port George. We’d like the both of you to participate.”

  “We would be honored,” Arden said through tears.

  Laura nodded her assent, clearly too moved to speak.

  Geraldine gestured to the plate of cookies on the table. “Please. Have one. I baked them only this morning.”

  “Rob swore that his mother made the best chocolate chip cookies in the world,” Arden said after taking a bite. “He was right.”

  “Is the recipe a secret?” Laura asked.

  Geraldine Smith smiled. “Not from family.”

  Chapter 86

  Before leaving Port George, Laura had arranged a meeting between Arden and Kathy Murdoch, to whom Laura had sincerely apologized for her earlier deception. Kathy had seemed hurt for about a minute and had then rallied her usual good temper and assured Laura she completely understood why Laura had kept her connection to Victoria Aldridge and Rob Smith a secret. The reunion of the former Wilder Academy classmates was properly emotional; there were tears but there was also laughter. Kathy renewed her promise of making Laura—and Arden, too—her famous mac ’n’ cheese with bacon when they returned to Port George to visit the Smith family.

  Later that afternoon, Laura had driven Arden to Miss Thompson’s house. This reunion was more profound. After a few minutes, Laura left her mother and Miss Thompson on their own and went for a coffee. She was briefly tempted to visit the Aldridge estate again, but she could discover no good reason to do so.

  The next morning, Laura and her mother had set out for Eliot’s Corner and were home well before noon.

  “I’ve never been happier to be in this cottage than I am at this moment,” Arden had declared when their bags had been unpacked and the kitties properly fed and feted. Deborah and Gordon had taken good care of Ophelia, Prospero, and Falstaff, but the cats were happy to have Arden home.

  Both women slept soundly that night and woke feeling more refreshed than they had expected to feel.

  “The first day of the rest of my life,” Laura had announced to the three cats, which she found lined up and waiting for breakfast when she came downstairs from the loft.

  The cats continued to stare, unimpressed.

  “Okay,” Laura said with a laugh as she went into the kitchen to open a can. “I get it. I’m not the important one here!”

  * * *

  “That bracelet really is gorgeous,” Deborah said, for what had to be third time in the past fifteen minutes. The friends were gathered in Arden’s little yard, enjoying a late-afternoon cup of tea.

  Deborah was referring to the Victorian snake bangle that had once belonged to Arden’s mother. Laura agreed that the workmanship was superb, but admitted she had passed on trying the bracelet on her own wrist. Snakes were snakes.

  “Have you started to read Rob’s letters and poems?” Gordon asked Arden.

  Arden nodded. “Slowly. It’s a bit overwhelming. I can almost hear his voice speaking the words. We were both so young, so naïve, and that’s reflected in Rob’s writing. It’s almost amusing, in a tender sort of way. I’ll cherish each page always, but honestly, I don’t think I’ll be reading them often.”

  “And in case you’re all wondering,” Laura added, “no, I haven’t asked to read my father’s papers and I won’t. They’re private.”

  Deborah frowned. “Rats. That means I’ll never get a peek at them! Oh, I’ve got some big news for you all. I made the sale! I’m now eligible to become a full partner in the agency.”

  “And you’ve been sitting here all this time saying nothing,” Arden scolded. “
Deborah, that’s excellent news, congratulations!”

  “You rock, Deborah,” Laura told her.

  “I’m glad all that hard work paid off in the end,” Gordon said.

  “Me, too,” Deborah admitted. “It wasn’t much of a restful summer for me, but then again, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with too much downtime.”

  “It hasn’t been a restful summer for any of us,” Gordon pointed out. “Any word from Port George?”

  “I talked to Ted the other day,” Arden said. “He told me that there was no memorial of any sort for my mother. I’d already guessed as much. I’m sure I would have been informed if it were otherwise. Maybe if the postmortem hadn’t so strongly suggested my mother’s death was suicide . . .”

  “So, um, where is she?” Deborah asked.

  “My father had her buried in the Montgomery family’s plot, next to her son. My brother. I believe that’s what she would have wanted, what she probably instructed in her will.” Arden looked to her daughter before going on. “And there’s more news. The night before last my father suffered a major stroke. He isn’t expected to live through the end of the week. I didn’t tell you right away,” she added hastily, “because I needed some time to process the news.”

  Deborah sighed. “I’m sorry, Arden. I truly am. A life is a life. It’s sacred, even when it’s been wasted or mishandled.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Gordon said. “Losing a parent is never an easy thing, even one from whom we’ve been estranged.”

  “Thank you both. Mr. O’Connell, my father’s executor, told me that funeral instructions are in place, and I’ll honor them. You know,” Arden went on after a moment, “I don’t believe my father would want to live now that my mother is gone. They were so intertwined, so invested in one another, through thick and thin.”

  “Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be all about?” Gordon noted. “ ‘In sickness and in health, for better or for worse.’”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “Unless it drives you mad well before death!”

  “Hear, hear!” Deborah cried.

  Gordon winced. “As a fellow divorced person, I guess I shouldn’t preach the storybook line. Reality is a lot more complicated.”

  “I don’t think I can handle being at Herbert Aldridge’s funeral,” Laura said suddenly. Until that moment, she hadn’t given it much thought, but now she knew for certain.

  “It’s all right,” Arden assured her. “You do what’s best for you.”

  “I’ll go with you if you, Arden, if you want me to,” Gordon offered.

  “Thank you. I would like that.”

  Laura shot a glance at Deborah, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Yes, a look of genuine fondness had passed between Arden and Gordon. Good. After all the years on her own, Laura thought, Arden deserved a worthy companion.

  “There’s another bit of news,” Arden said now. “My father’s estate will come to me when he dies, and when I’m gone, it will go to Laura. In the meantime, there’s plenty for the two of us to share.”

  Deborah slapped a hand over her heart. “Whoa!”

  “It was a huge surprise to us both,” Laura told them. “We’d assumed Arden had been cut out of the will years ago.”

  “At least you can relax somewhat now,” Gordon said to Arden. “You’ve been working so hard for so long.”

  “It will be a relief to have a cushion beneath me for once,” Arden admitted. “And now I don’t need a loan to get the roof on the shop fixed before winter weather destroys what’s left of it! The roofers start work next Monday.”

  “How does it feel to be an heiress?” Deborah joked.

  “Weird.” Arden laughed. “It was weird when I was a kid and it’s weird now. But I’ll adjust.”

  Laura had never been overly materialistic, but she would be lying if she said that the idea of finally being free of Jared Pence’s remaining debts didn’t warm her heart.

  Suddenly, her mother turned to her. “Laura, I know you were planning to go back to Connecticut, but what about staying here in Eliot’s Corner? You might be able to get a part-time teaching job in one of the local colleges, and you yourself said there are reputable online degree programs. If you’re willing, you could earn your PhD online.”

  A shocked silence descended on the group of friends.

  “That is true,” Laura admitted after a moment. “About good online degree programs.”

  Deborah cleared her throat and looked from Arden to Laura. “I hope you don’t take this as my interfering, but Laura could move into my place if she decides to stay in Eliot’s Corner. I’ve got a big spare bedroom, and there’s a second bathroom as well. We wouldn’t be living in each other’s pockets, and Laura could come and go as she pleased while I continue to do the same.”

  Laura looked to Arden, who was smiling.

  “The bedroom is big enough for a nice-sized desk,” Deborah went on, “or you could use a laptop anywhere else in the house. And there’s definitely free shelf space for your books.”

  Gordon nodded. “I think it sounds like a grand idea. Not that my opinion counts.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Laura told him. “And if I stay on in Eliot’s Corner, I can be at your opening at the Fry Gallery.” Laura then turned back to her mother. “And I could join the Arden Forest book group.”

  “As long as whatever decision you make, to stay in Eliot’s Corner or to go back to Connecticut, to move into Deborah’s or to remain at Juniper End, isn’t unduly influenced by anyone else,” Arden said firmly. “This has to be about what’s best for you.”

  What was best for her. Laura knew the answer to that question as certainly as she knew that Falstaff had a penchant for fresh tuna. “I would love to stay on in Eliot’s Corner. And, Deborah, I’d be happy to move in with you. We’ll talk about compensation when it’s just you and me.”

  “I don’t expect—” Deborah began.

  “I’m not a freeloader. And now, like Arden, I have a bit of a cushion. As much as I’m loath to admit it, the fact is that Herbert Aldridge—my grandfather; there, I’ve said it—has made it possible for me to make this decision. And being in Eliot’s Corner will allow me to see the Smiths as frequently as I like. I haven’t met them all yet. There are Rob’s other two sisters and all my cousins and maybe even aunts and uncles.”

  Arden was beaming. “This is truly a matter for celebration.”

  “I’ll run home and grab a bottle of champagne!” Deborah cried.

  “Why the heck not?” Laura wiped a tear from her eye.

  Chapter 87

  “What’s this?” Laura pointed to a large cardboard box sitting unopened on the dining table.

  “Bill O’Connell sent it,” Arden told her. “It arrived this morning.”

  “Do you want to open it now or wait until you’re alone?”

  “No. Let’s open it now. I’m sure there’s nothing you shouldn’t see.”

  The box contained several photo albums. A brief note from Mr. O’Connell stated that her father had selected the contents the day before his stroke; he had left a note instructing his lawyer to send the box to Arden as soon as possible. A second delivery, consisting of Arden’s personal belongings, was forthcoming.

  Arden opened and quickly glanced through each album. “These are photos from my childhood. It looks as if there’s nothing here past 1979 or ’80. Who knows what else I’ll find in the house when . . . when my father passes away.”

  Herbert Aldridge was still lingering, but death would visit him before long. Arden found herself praying for a swift end to whatever struggles might be taking place in what was left of her father’s mind. Certainly, his soul had to be in torment.

  Maybe.

  “Did he ever say anything to you about those creepy portraits of your brother?” Laura asked.

  “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! I noticed right away that the portraits were gone. I asked my father about them and he said he’d had them destroyed after my mother’s deat
h. It dawned on me then for the first time that those paintings probably caused my father serious distress. After all, he had lost a son, too.”

  “You’re probably right. I can’t imagine anyone living in that house would be immune to the mood set by those what-if pictures.”

  Arden again opened the first of the albums and smiled. “This one”—she showed the photo to Laura—“was taken when I was three. My hair was so white blond! That’s definitely a color you don’t see naturally on an adult.”

  “Quite the fancy pink dress, too. Black patent leather shoes and purse. Bow in hair. You’re picture-perfect.”

  Arden smiled. “Maybe on the outside. Look, here’s my first-grade class picture. As you can see, I towered over the other girls and most of the boys. My mother told me I had an enviable frame for clothes. It didn’t make up for being teased and called String Bean and Beanpole.”

  “Kids can be idiots.”

  “As can adults.” Arden turned another page of the album. “Look at this! I remember the afternoon Mrs. Clarke took me to the October Fair hosted by the Chamber of Commerce.”

  Laura laughed. “My word, you were awfully cute! Did she win you that teddy bear?”

  Arden smiled. “She did, and you’re prejudiced.”

  “I also have eyes to see.” Laura paused. “Were there any photos of your brother? I mean, there must have been, but did you ever see any?”

  Arden shook her head. “No. But like I said, who knows what I’ll find when I go through all of my parents’ things. Gosh, what a daunting task that’s going to be.”

  “There’s no deadline. And I’m here to help you.”

  “Look at this photo. I must have been eight or nine. I vaguely remember that dress. It had a scratchy lining.”

  “You look so solemn and serious,” Laura said after a moment. “Poor little lost girl.”

  Arden smiled at her daughter. “That first night you were here, I so badly wanted to watch over you as you slept, a vigil I was denied as a young mother. Of course, I didn’t leave my room. Can you imagine what you might have thought if you woke to find me staring down at you?”