As the Light Fades (ARC)

by Catherine West

  The nursing home was a short drive from Matthew Stone’s house. She’d passed it on the way. That would be one advantage if she decided to take the place. But she wasn’t sure she would. The man seemed nice enough, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of trusting him. And the whole kid thing was weird. Like she had time to look after a surly teenager.

  Well, she did, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Liz clasped the canvas bag she’d brought along, filled with a few items Dad might enjoy, walked across the bright day room, nodded to a couple of the other residents, and slid into an empty chair beside her father’s.

  He turned and met her eyes, and Liz held her breath. This was the worst part. Not knowing if he’d recognize her. She’d learned to avoid greeting him first. It only seemed to confuse him and hurt more when he couldn’t find the memories. So she offered a small smile and waited.

  His weathered face crinkled and his lips parted in a familiar grin. “Hello, Bizzy-Lizzy.”

  Laughter caught in her throat at the childhood name, and she blinked sudden tears. “Hi, Dad.”

  He was dressed today. Some days he protested too much and preferred his pajamas. Today it seemed the staff had won. His paint-stained khakis had seen better days, and the white chambray shirt was tending toward gray, but he’d made the effort. That had to count for something. Except . . .

  “No shoes, Dad?”

  “Huh.” He rubbed his scruff-covered chin and looked down, a chuckle rumbling through him. “Shoes. No. They left.”

  Liz patted his arm. “That’s all right. Perhaps we’ll find them in a bit. I thought we could walk outside.”

  His gaze veered upward to the window. “On a day like this? It’s blustery. There’s a storm coming in, girl.”

  The sun glared through clean glass, and Liz studied the clear blue sky, gathering her thoughts. She looked back at him and put on a bright smile. “I think we’ll be okay. What do you say? Get some fresh air? Shall we go to your room and look for your shoes?”

  “We mustn’t stay out long.” He heaved up and stood before her, hand outstretched. “Your mother and Cecily will have dinner on the table soon.”

  “I know.” Liz stood, took her father’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a little late.”

  They walked around the carefully manicured grounds and eventually sat on a bench overlooking the ocean. This place was nice. Expensive, but Gray was making a huge comeback in the music world and was writing the checks to prove it. They were all eternally grateful for his generosity.

  The garden area reminded her a little of Wyldewood, the way the house had looked when they were kids. Beautiful gardens and a spectacular view of the ocean. It was probably the reason Dad had settled in so easily. Perhaps he’d felt that too. Although, these days it was hard to tell what he felt. Or thought. In mid-stage Alzheimer’s, Drake Carlisle’s mind was fast becoming a jumbled maze of memory, harder to decipher each day.

  Liz proffered his favorite Godiva chocolates, and he eyed the box with the glee of a child on Christmas morning. “These are the best kind, aren’t they, Lynnie?”

  Liz sighed. She wouldn’t correct him. Soon he’d probably be calling her by her mother’s name, and then Cecily's. The idea of Dad mistaking her for their former feisty housekeeper produced a grin. “So I looked at a place yesterday. It’s not too far from here.” She watched a group of squawking gulls land on the lawn nearby, and Matthew Stone’s anxious face came to mind. He’d probably tried not to appear desperate, but it’d been obvious he wanted her to take the place. The little she’d seen of the main house gave no hint he might be strapped for cash, and his cool and calm demeanor would have fooled anyone. But Liz knew better. Appearances could be deceiving.

  “Did you hear that your mother wants to paint the kitchen again?” Dad put down the box of chocolates and got to his feet, scouring the open sea. “Now, where are those boys? Out in that storm! Grayson’s about to get himself grounded again.”

  He was lost in the past, no telling how long he’d stay.

  “They’ll be in soon, Dad.” After a while, she gathered up their things and walked him inside. By the time she said goodbye, he’d gone silent, engrossed in an old movie playing on television. She spoke with the supervisor before she left, and got the weekly update. She’d chat with Dad’s doctor next week, but by now they knew what to expect. There would be no improvement.

  Liz took the long way home, driving slow. No job. No place to live. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and shook her head. She needed to make some decisions. She’d never been one to have a bunch of girlfriends to call at all hours, but a friend or two to confide in, seek advice from, might be nice. But she had no-one. The crowd they ran with in New York were Laurence’s friends. She doubted any of those women would give her the time of day now. She’d never really liked them anyhow. No. She was on her own. And for the first time in years, Liz recognized the odd sensation niggling her.

  Loneliness.

  four

  Liz left the ATM on Monday afternoon and did some quick mental calculations as she marched down Main. She’d be okay for a few more months, but after that? All weekend she’d thought about the cute little cottage on Matthew Stone’s property. She could imagine herself living there. It was furnished nicely. Not quite her style—she preferred modern design—but it would certainly do. If she agreed to his ridiculous suggestion, she’d be able to afford it. But somehow she hadn’t been able to pick up the phone. But how bad could it be? She could handle a surly teenager, couldn’t she?

  She remembered that age all too well. And the memories were not pleasant.

  As Liz passed Timeless, Evy McIntyre’s gallery, she hesitated, seeing one of her sister’s paintings in the window. The poignant Nantucket scene reminded Liz of many family times spent on that particular beach. Days when their chief concerns were whether they’d have enough marshmallows to roast and when the fireflies would appear. Even then, Liz remembered being on edge, wondering what people might think of her eccentric parents who laughed too loudly, partied too hard, and thumbed their nose at the highbrow society surrounding them.

  She stood lost in her thoughts a moment too long, and soon Evy was waving her in. Liz sighed but stepped into the gallery anyway. She should at least say hello.

  “Darling, so good to see you again. How are you?” Evy kissed her on both cheeks and stood back, scrutinizing Liz while adjusting her cats-eye spectacles.

  “Oh, not too bad. Considering I’m still on this island.” Liz took off her sunglasses and managed a smile. “How are you? So sorry about your garden.”

  Evy rolled her eyes. “Dreadful day that was. I’m just glad you weren’t in the way, dear.”

  “Me too. I’m not sure what that kid was thinking.”

  “She wasn’t thinking.” Evy chuckled. “They never do at that age. Think they’re invincible. Don’t you remember? Surely you must have gotten into a few scrapes as a teen?”

  “Me?” Liz shook her head. “I left the troublemaking up to my brothers. Well, mostly Gray. He got into enough trouble for the rest of us.”

  “I remember your parents complaining to me about him on more than one occasion. He’s doing well now, isn’t he?” The concern in Evy’s eyes said she knew of Gray’s struggles with addiction. It wasn’t easy to hide anything in this small community. Of course, her brother’s celebrity status didn’t help. “Yes, he’s doing well, thanks for asking.” Enough small talk. “I noticed Lynnie’s painting in the window and wondered . . .”

  Evy’s smile returned. “Oh, yes, we’ve had a few sales! That sister of yours is every bit as talented as your father. Yet she has her own unique style. It’s quite perfect, isn’t it?” Evy clapped her hands and marched across the pine floor, her long legs still shapely for someone of her age. Liz wasn’t exactly sure what age that was, but she had to be in her sixties at least. Not that you’d know it, with her stylish bob, red streak and all. Her slender fi
gure, careful makeup, and fashionable outfits would leave anyone guessing. Evy McIntyre wasn’t aging without a fight. Liz admired that.

  “I’ve been meaning to call about this, so I’m glad you’re here,” Evy said. “Can you hang on a moment while I write a check for Lynette?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” When they’d first met, Liz wasn’t sure she liked the woman. She was brazen, blunt, and didn’t suffer fools. Which gave them a few things in common, but Liz wasn’t altogether comfortable with the way Evy seemed to see right through her. Still, Lynette had asked her to come in now and again, see how her paintings were doing, and collect any checks, so here she was. Evy was also one of the chief investors behind turning Wyldewood into a B&B. But there was something about her friendly demeanor, something inviting about her, that made Liz want to linger. “Lynette sends her love. She should be back near the end of October.”

  “And she’d better get to work right away.” Evy’s throaty chuckle reminded Liz of an old black and white film actress. “Mind you, we are coming into slow season. But I hope to do more business online this winter. That nice boy across the road gave me a brand new website. For a price, of course. Who knew a few taps of the keyboard could be so expensive? But never mind, it’ll be worth it.” Evy took a look around the empty gallery and nodded, turning back to Liz. “We’re getting a lot of interest from the dealers who bought the last of your father’s work. Would you want to sell any more?”

  Liz strolled the gallery and studied some of the artwork on display. None of her siblings seemed willing to part with more of Dad’s paintings. Funnily enough, as time went on, neither was she. “I’ll talk to the others again. There’s just been so much happening this summer. And we’ve moved my father into the nursing home, and he’s . . .” What? Not about to protest them making a profit from paintings he wouldn’t remember.

  “I understand. They’d be difficult to part with.”

  Liz was moved by the sympathy in the older woman’s voice. Evy offered a kind smile and a small bottle of Perrier. Liz nodded her thanks. “Maybe once Lynnie gets home . . .”

  “Of course. Just let me know. How is your father doing in his new surroundings? It can’t have been an easy decision.”

  “It wasn’t. He’s settled in well. He has good days where he’s not so agitated, but his memory is fading fast. I think it’s the best place for him.”

  “And you? How are you doing?”

  “Me?” Something about the way Evy posed the question made her want to pull up a chair and pour out her heart to the woman. Liz studied the varnished pine floor and the perfect pink polish on her toenails. Her weekly appointments at the salon were going to have to end. Another part of her life she had to let go. She took a swig of the fizzy water and shrugged. “I’m fine.” Just need employment and a place to live, but other than that . . .

  Evy arched thin eyebrows. “Really?”

  Liz smiled. “Well. A bit out of sorts, not having a job, but I’m sure something will come up.”

  “I didn’t realize you were looking for work.” A twinge of interest sparked in Evy’s eyes.

  “I’m not exactly looking.” Her own honesty took her by surprise. “I left my position in New York. I’m not going back to the city. Not right now anyway. I haven’t really decided what to do next. Might take a break from law for a while.” Liz wasn’t sure now why she’d chosen the legal profession at all.

  Evy played with the strand of colorful glass beads around her neck. “You know . . . this is rather providential. I happen to be in need of an assistant.” Her sharp eyes looked Liz up and down, red lips pinched together. “You might just fit the bill. But I don’t suppose you’d be interested. It’s not as scintillating as the corporate world, that’s for sure.”

  The woman could read her mind. “Actually, I’m rather enjoying being out of the corporate world. But, Evy.” Liz smothered laughter. “Work here, in the art gallery, with you?”

  Evy released a small sigh and rounded the desk at the back of the room. “I’m not getting any younger, Elizabeth. My doctor has instructed me to slow down. Not that I have the slightest intention of doing so, but if I can at least tell her I’ve hired an assistant, that might get her off my case.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious.” Liz frowned. At Evy’s age, it could be anything. Lynette would not be happy to hear her dear friend was ill.

  Evy snorted. “Not at all. Slightly high blood pressure. A few aches and pains, nothing to worry about, really. But I do think some help might be a good thing. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork back there I’ve been putting off tackling, and two shows coming up before winter sets in. I can’t offer a great salary I’m afraid, but it would be adequate, with benefits. Would you like to think about it?”

  No. Liz dug her fingernails into her palms. No, she didn’t want to think about it. At all. “I’ll do it.” She would? She wanted to sink through the floor, take back the words. What just happened? She’d never made a hasty decision in her life.

  Evy gave a gravelly laugh that told Liz she looked as surprised as she felt. “Well, then.” Her new boss held out a manicured hand, beaming. “Welcome aboard.”

  As they shook hands, the door chimed, and Liz turned to see Matthew Stone and his niece walk into the gallery. Not the person she wanted to see right now, and certainly not here. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to run, so she stood her ground and pretended it was the most normal thing in the world for them to run into each other in an art gallery.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. McIntyre,” He gave a cordial nod, one hand at Mia’s elbow. “May we have a moment?”

  “Mr. Stone. How nice to see you again. And if it isn’t Maria Andretti.” Evy stepped back, a slightly intimidating look taking over her features. “I’m just about to close up for the day, but do come in.”

  Liz tightened her grip on her bottle of water and looked on with interest. Mia rolled her eyes, lips curled downward. The black lipstick matched her nails. She wore ripped jeans, a very tight black, long-sleeved t-shirt that scooped too low, and shiny Doc Martens. Her wrists had several black leather, silver studded bracelets wrapped around them. The kid reminded her of some of the characters she’d seen in court back in her law school days. All headed for juvie.

  “Afternoon, Miss Carlisle.” Matthew nodded her way, and Mia cracked a wad of gum and gave the impression she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

  “Mr. Stone.” She wasn’t sure whether to stay or go, but something about this curious situation made her stay.

  Evy tipped her head and tapped her fingernails on the granite counter-top as Mia approached, looking like she was coming to stand before a judge.

  “Mrs. McIntyre, I’m sorry I ran down your fence last week, ran over your roses, and smashed into your tree. I’ll work on your garden, my uncle will help me rebuild the fence, and I can plant new roses or whatever you want . . .” She sniffed and pushed a couple fingers through her hair. “But there’s probably not a whole lot I can do about the tree.”

  Liz watched Matthew working to hold back laughter. It danced in his brown eyes when they flashed in her direction. He obviously adored his niece, miscreant that she appeared to be.

  Evy gave a little cough and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure the tree will survive. And I accept your apology, young lady. Thank you. I did receive the message you left for me on my phone the day after your unfortunate incident, but it’s nice you came in person.”

  Albeit clearly under duress.

  Matthew looked less amused now, and Mia shrugged. Evy leaned over the counter and even Liz felt the weight of her stare. “You may repair the fence and replant the rose bushes that are still intact with roots. I will show you what to do. The rest will have to be done in the spring. There isn’t any point in planting new bushes with winter on the way. But, you know, I’m sure we can find a few jobs for you here at the gallery after school, to work off your debt. Would that suit?”

  Mia gaped. So did Liz.

  The girl’s
uncle gave a tight smile and sent Mia a look that said she had no choice. “That would suit just fine. When would you like her to start?”

  Evy folded her arms with a smug smile. “You may report to my new assistant, Miss Carlisle, tomorrow afternoon. Come straight down after your last class, no dawdling.”

  Mia’s surprised expression matched the one her uncle wore.

  “You work here?” they asked in unison, sounding more shocked than Liz had been hearing herself agreeing to take the position.

  “Apparently.” Laughter bubbled up but she swallowed it. “I’ve just taken the position.”

  “Congrats.” Matthew’s grin made Liz smile.

  “And how do you two know each other?” Definite interest gleamed in Evy’s eyes, and Liz groaned inwardly. Lynette described her friend as a die-hard romantic who’d had a hand in pushing her sister and her boyfriend Nick together. Liz definitely didn’t want the woman getting any ideas where Matthew Stone was concerned.

  “We’ve just met, actually.” Liz cleared her throat and gave Evy a none-of-your-business look. “I’ll call you tonight to finalize our terms and hours, shall I?” She took a card from the stack on the counter.

  Evy wore an amused expression. “Please do.”

  Liz headed for the door, but Matthew was beside her before she could reach it. “Hold up.” His intent stare pinned her to the spot. “You didn’t call me. About the coach house? Are you still thinking about it?”

  No, no, no. “Yes.” What was wrong with her today? “I mean, no. Not really. I . . .” Liz took a breath, appalled. She was never at a loss for words. “I mean, I don’t know.” She’d spent the weekend clearing out her room at Wyldewood. Contemplated putting up a camp bed in the study so she wouldn’t have to move out. But the noise and the dust . . . even Josslyn was talking about taking the kids to her parents’ on the mainland for a few weeks, until the worst of the demolition was over.

  And she had a job now. Not that she expected the salary to be anywhere close to what she was used to making, but still . . . so it seemed she’d be stuck with the girl either way. “Can I have another day or two?” She wasn’t sure why she was stalling.