Saving Sandcastles

by Meredith Summers

  At the tinkle of the bells attached to the door, an old woman bustled out from a room deeper in the old Victorian house. She was robust, if thin, her face craggy with wrinkles, and her long white hair pulled back from her face. Although the bell had called her, her eyes were glassy, as if she couldn’t seem to remember why she had stepped through the door. She peered around, the wrinkles in her face softening with confusion as she searched.

  “Are you looking for Dad?” Her voice was soft, almost girlish.

  Immediately, the lost look in her face and the timidity of her voice clicked into a slot in his mind. The woman must have some sort of dementia. Rob recognized the signs, having lived with that very expression for far too many years of his life. Caroline, his late wife, had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. It was a disease that not only sapped the memory but also the personality, and finally the very life from her.

  He was flooded with compassion for the woman in front of him. What was this woman doing there, unaccompanied? Was she a guest? Rob glanced at the open door, knowing full well a person with dementia could wander off and get lost. He knew just how to handle someone with memory loss.

  Tucking his hands into his pockets, he smiled and strolled forward. “Hello. I hoped to speak with the owner of this inn. Would that be you?” he teased.

  She giggled. “Oh, Charlie, you know it will be some day. Do you have a delivery? You can bring it to the back with me.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t Charlie. Not to mention, given how young she seemed to think she was, he would be far too old for her to be flirting with him. She acted like a teenager.

  He cracked a smile and shrugged his shoulders, careful not to encourage her but also not to confuse her by correcting her. Sometimes it was kinder just to play along. “No delivery today. But I hope I’ll be back soon with the delivery. Who should I talk to about that?”

  A younger, harried-looking woman, who resembled the old woman to such an extent that they must be related, stepped out from another archway.

  “You can talk to me.” Shyly, she tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. She was soft-spoken, not like the brusque business owners or overly friendly extroverts he usually dealt with. It was refreshing. Maybe she was someone he could do business with on friendly, trusting terms.

  He gave the older woman another smile because that felt far safer. “I hope you don’t think I’ll be ignoring you, but I do want to talk to this fine woman about potential future deliveries. I have a business proposition.”

  The younger woman nodded briskly and stepped up, offering her hand. “It’s fine. I’m Jane Miller, and this is my mother, Adelaide.”

  Rob shook hands with Jane. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Rob Bradford from Bradford Breads. I just opened a store in town. Is there a place we can sit down and talk?”

  Abruptly, the old woman sharpened. The fog of confusion left her face, and her voice gained strength. “If you’re talking business, then you’ll talk to me. I still run this place, you know.”

  Rob was speechless at how quickly she seemed to shake off the confusion.

  Then she added, “At least while Daddy is away.”

  Lines spiderwebbed around Jane’s eyes, her smile turning forced. “Of course, Mom. Why don’t you show him to the kitchen?”

  The old woman nodded and turned on her heel, bustling away with vigor that belied her age. As Rob indicated that Jane should follow first and he would trail behind, she lowered her voice and whispered, “It’s very kind of you to include her. Most people get uncomfortable around her when she’s like this.”

  His smile faded, but he tried to hide it. “I have some experience with dementia.” Before she asked more—he didn’t want to open that can of worms with a stranger—he lengthened his stride. Not to mention, most people didn’t care to hear about a woman in her forties developing Alzheimer’s.

  Thankfully, Jane simply nodded, a look of sympathy flashing through her eyes, before continuing to the kitchen.

  The room had the atmosphere of antique nostalgia mixed with modern gadgets. Adelaide had already seated herself at a long pine table that had a plate of muffins in the middle.

  Jane took her cues from her mother and offered some coffee. Rob accepted, hoping to foster a friendly arrangement between them. While she fixed three cups, he made idle conversation with Addie about the history of the bed-and-breakfast. She remembered a lot about the past, talking about raising children in the same breath as running wild up and down the halls as a child herself. Rob listened to her intently, even when she repeated herself. He always had the time to be kind.

  Before long, Jane doled out several cups of coffee and took the seat next to her mother. “So, what did you want to talk about? I’ve seen your store in town.”

  Rob couldn’t tell by her tone if she approved of the store or not. “We bake fresh bread every day, and in many of the towns surrounding our locations, I like to make connections with local businesses. Bed-and-breakfasts often serve our products for their guests. I thought you might also like to serve fresh bread to your customers.”

  Adelaide, who had started picking apart a chocolate chip muffin, nodded emphatically. “That’s a wonderful idea! You know, we pride ourselves in having a great breakfast here at Tides, but we don’t make our own bread, do we, Jane? What do you think?”

  Despite her mother’s enthusiasm for the topic, Jane didn’t seem as convinced. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. When she didn’t continue, he raised one eyebrow, and said, “I sense a ‘but’ in that sentence.”

  She grimaced. Turning in her seat, she murmured, “Mom, I don’t think Claire would like it very much if we started a business relationship with Bradford Breads.”

  Addie’s forehead creased. “Claire? Who’s Claire?”

  Frustration crossed Jane’s face for a second. Rob remembered that feeling. But then she shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and said very patiently, “Claire made that muffin, Mom. You remember, don’t you?”

  Addie nodded, but it was that blank, empty nod that meant she didn’t truly understand. Rob recognized it well.

  With a small sigh, Jane turned back to Rob and explained, “One of my best friends owns the bakery in town. To tell the truth, she’s a little put out by you moving in across the street.”

  He’d judged as much by the stony look she gave him when he saw her across the street earlier. He sighed, pushing his mug a bit farther from him in preparation to leave. “I was afraid of that.”

  But Jane didn’t seem ready to kick him out the door. She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. “Afraid of it? Why do you say that?”

  At least she wasn’t ready to leap into battle for her friend and kick him out. He settled back in his chair. His eyes caught on the tray of muffins, and Jane pushed them toward him, indicating for him to help himself to one. Maybe it would help his case to compliment the baker when they inevitably met. He took one, and Jane grabbed a plate from a sideboard and slid it in front of him.

  Before he bit into it, he explained, “I’m not here to put people out of business. In fact, I always make sure when I move into a town that there isn’t currently a bakery specializing in bread. But even so, it always seems to happen that somebody is put out by my presence. I’m not a threat to your friend’s bakery, I promise.”

  As he met her gaze, he saw something in her eyes. Conflict. Loyalty. Even if he couldn’t get a standing order of bread from Tides, Jane might be able to help him smooth out the bumps in his business plan.

  He leaned over the table. “Maybe you could help me out.”

  She seemed surprised, her blue eyes widening. “Me? I don’t know…”

  “Not with the bread order, though I do hope you’ll change your mind. But if you’re best friends with the owner of the other bakery in town, you undoubtedly have some influence over her. I noticed the sign for her cupcake sale. I also not
iced that it was a three-for-one and on the same day as mine.”

  When he raised one eyebrow, Jane nodded. “She wants to establish a presence that day.”

  Rob thought as much. “I would like to set things straight with your friend before this competition gets out of hand. I’m not here to hurt her. In fact, things would go a lot smoother if we could work together. What do you say, Jane? Will you help me?”

  Jane nibbled on her lower lip. She should probably just tell Rob she wasn’t interested and send him on his way. But the thing was, she didn’t think he was a bad guy. Especially not with the way he’d treated her mother. Not once had he tried to avoid Addie or ignore her. Despite the way she butted into the conversation or entertained him with fragments of stories that only halfway made sense, Rob didn’t seem to mind. He treated her as kindly as he would his own mother. Jane appreciated that kindness more than she could express.

  But if she took him up on his offer—either to approach Claire or to enter into a business arrangement with Bradford Breads, how would Claire feel? Claire had been Jane’s best friend since they were in elementary school. The last thing she wanted to do was create friction or add more stress when Claire seemed worried as it was. Even if Claire was being unreasonable.

  Claire would come to her senses sooner or later. Maybe Jane could help her along.

  Hesitantly, Jane asked, “You mentioned working together. In what way?”

  Rob leaned back in his chair, chewing on a bite of the muffin as he thought. From the moment he had stepped into Tides, he’d had an easy, confident way of holding himself, a self-assurance that didn’t border on arrogance. He wasn’t one of those smooth businessmen who lied to get what they wanted. Jane knew it in her gut.

  He swallowed and answered, “We don’t have to compete for customers. There’s room for them to visit both of us. All three of us, in fact. We could put on promotions together to get more people coming to Lobster Bay in the off-season. I know I’m doing my grand opening in the summer, but I did enough research to know that while this is the prime time for tourists, people do visit here year-round.”

  Jane nodded. “You’re right. We get a few vacationers around Christmas but nothing compared to summertime. Promotions don’t sound like a bad idea.”

  Rob’s eyes brightened, making him look even more handsome. Clearly, Claire hadn’t yet met the guy, or she wouldn’t be quite so prickly about him moving in across the street. Not that Rob held a candle to Jane’s late husband. She swallowed against the lump in her throat that grew smaller each year but never seemed to leave.

  “You truly don’t mean to put the bakery out of business?”

  Rob shook his head. “That would be bad for my business too. I definitely can’t make muffins like these. And the locals no doubt expect them. I wouldn’t be able to meet that expectation.”

  One corner of Jane’s mouth hitched up in a smirk. She tried to swallow it but must not have been successful because he leaned forward eagerly, encouraged that he’d won her over even just a bit.

  “So you’ll talk to your friend for me? Help her see that I’m not a threat to her?”

  Jane pressed her lips together, but she nodded. “I’ll try. You have to understand, that bakery is like Claire’s baby. She’s put her heart and soul into it. She’s very overprotective.”

  He chuckled. “That I can understand completely. Truth be told, I feel the same about my business.”

  Jane drummed her fingernails against her coffee mug. “I’ll try to get her to soften up, but that’s it. I can’t in good conscience enter into an agreement with Bradford Breads at this time.”

  Addie started to protest, but Rob held up his hands in surrender. “I understand. It’s not worth harming a friendship.” He swallowed down the last of his coffee, scraped back his chair, and took his plate to the sink. “Maybe once the tension has blown over, we can revisit the idea.”

  Jane stood to shake his hand. “Absolutely.”

  Despite the fact that Addie hadn’t yet stood, Rob made a show of shaking her hand too. “It was so lovely to spend an hour with you. I hope we meet again soon.”

  “Do you need me to show you to the door?”

  He shook his head. “I can remember the way. Thank you—and you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

  As he left, the kitchen door shutting behind him, Jane couldn’t help but notice the glow on her mother’s face. It was nice to see her mother happy. So many people talked down to her these days. Rob’s kindness had done her good.

  When Jane saw Claire again, she could safely say that his business meant hers no harm. Claire had texted her earlier that day about meeting at her cottage that night since her time was limited between now and the sale on Saturday. Maybe if Jane could get Claire to see what she had just learned of Rob Bradford, Claire would rest a little easier too.

  But before she met with her friend, she had work to do at Tides. As she started to gather the cups to wash them, her mother giggled like a schoolgirl. She caught Jane by the arm, her eyes aglow. “How nice for him to come here and ask me to the dance. Won’t Sadie Thompson be jealous when she sees me walking in with that hunk on my arm?”

  Chapter Eleven

  The sea breeze gusted through the open windows of Maxi’s house. Waves crashed on the rocks below the cliff on which her house perched at the end of the lane. Maxi, accustomed to the white noise, almost thought of it like a companion. Right then, it was her only companion in the house.

  For years, the house had been filled with sounds, shouts, teasing and laughter from her three children. But now, all three of them were grown, the youngest two in college and the oldest married with a place of his own. They were all doing well, and that made her happy, but now she needed more to fill her life, especially with James gone so often.

  Maybe a decorating project? Decorating had been an artistic outlet for her over the years. She’d been told more than once that their house looked like it could be in a magazine. And at least that was something that James, too, was proud of. He loved entertaining his bank colleagues there and boasting about his wife’s talent.

  But the main floor had been redone recently for the kids’ college graduation parties. Maybe the bedroom? Maxi climbed the staircase lined with family photos to the master bedroom. Done in cobalt blue and yellow, it had a serene feel to it. Was the color scheme dated? Maybe a new comforter in bright white and some accent pillows would give it a fresh look for summer.

  At the foot of the bed, the pillows piled on a cedar chest provided cushioning to use it as a seat. She could get a new cushion for the seat part, maybe paint the wood white. Of course, she should probably clean it out first.

  Something tugged at her to open it. Inside were memories: photo albums of her parents and grandparents, locks of hair from the kids, school pictures, and her art supplies that she hadn’t touched in decades. Maybe she should just take a little peek at them and see what condition they were in. As she started taking the pillows off the chest, her phone rang. James!

  “Hi, honey,” she answered.

  “Sweetie! How are you?” James’s voice sounded like he was genuinely happy to talk to her.

  “Great. How about you? How is the conference going?”

  “Well, you know how they are, just a bunch of boring lunches and sleep-inducing presentations. What have you been up to?”

  “Me? Not much.” Maxi told him about the new bread store and Claire’s plan for a sale. “I’m going to help her out. I don’t have much to do with the kids gone now.”

  There was silence on the other end, and for a minute, Maxi thought James might forbid her to help Claire, but instead he said, “You don’t? I guess maybe it will be good for you to help her out for the sale.”

  He put an emphasis on for the sale, but Maxi was encouraged anyway, so she plowed ahead. “I was thinking maybe I should take up drawing again. You know I used to enjoy it so much before the kids, and now with extra time…”

  Muffled so
unds came from the phone, as if James had covered it with his hand. Then she heard him faintly say, “Be there in a minute,” before his voice returned in full. “Taking up drawing sounds like a great idea. That should keep you busy.”

  Maxi practically bubbled with excitement. “Yes, it certainly will.”

  “Good, then go for it. I have to run. Love you!”

  “Love you too!”

  James hung up, and Maxi tossed the pillow off the chest with a burst of energy. That was so easy! She had been making too much of James’ reluctance to let her draw. Had that all been in her mind, an internal excuse because she was too busy with other things? It didn’t matter now, she thought as she opened the cedar chest and looked inside, half-expecting the contents to have evaporated in the years since she’d tucked them away. But there they were, row on row, packed neatly. Her old sketchbooks from high school and the scant years after right up to the half-filled one she’d tucked away with the others some months after she’d gotten married.

  Her hand trembled as she fished that one out of the neat row. She opened it to sketches in various stages of completion. And then a blank page. Untouched. In the corner of the cedar chest was the box in which she had stuffed her charcoal pencils. The cardboard crinkled as she opened the box and pulled out her favorite pencil, worn almost to a nub. The tip was blunt. A small pencil sharpener was crammed into the corner of the box along with a kneading eraser.

  The blank page sang to her. She was reaching for the pencil and sharpener when her phone chimed with a text.

  It was Claire, asking to get together that night at her place to help her plan the cupcake sale.

  Of course, Maxi would accept. She could draw anytime, but if Claire needed her help, that was a priority. She texted back.