Faith’s pinkie touched hers. “He does. But here’s the thing: Fred’s the one who needs taking care of at the moment. Could you come back with me and help him?”
“But my job . . .” Mona got up and gathered the dirt-stained hem of her nightgown around her. Peering down the road, she teetered so close to the curb Faith leaped up to pull her back inside the bus stop. “Where is that darned bus, anyway?” Sounding for all the world like a frustrated commuter, Mona exhaled dramatically and turned to Faith. “Oh, well. I suppose I can always catch the next one. We should go back now.”
Arm in arm, the two walked back to the inn together, Mona wondering aloud what her colleagues would think of her calling in sick for the first time. “I don’t tolerate weakness in my staff,” she said, wagging a finger at Faith. The woman must have been a force in her day, Faith thought, tucking Mona’s arm into hers.
Back at The Mermaid’s Purse, Ellie huddled by the door watching an agitated Fred hurry down the front steps and embrace his wife.
“You know you can’t wander off like that. You scared the bejesus out of me.” Fred kissed Mona’s forehead tenderly, then led her inside, where he pulled off his sweater and began to dress her in it.
But before Fred could secure the last button, the stoniness Faith had come to recognize fell over Mona’s face like a mask. How crushing to witness your beloved spouse disappear—in more ways than one, Faith thought, watching the man walk his wife to their bedroom.
56
“Mona hasn’t worked in the city in twenty-five years,” Fred told Faith the next morning. As usual, he had been the first to rise, the suspenders he wore over his sweater providing Faith a glimpse of the man as a young boy.
Faith set a cup of tea in front of him, shocked at the toll Mona’s disappearance had taken on him overnight. His complexion had grayed, and his hands shook as he set his teacup in its saucer.
“Has Mona done this before?” Faith asked.
“Her meandering? Once or twice.” Distracted, he glanced repeatedly toward the bedroom. “I’ll put something in front of the door tonight while we’re sleeping so she can’t get out.”
And if, God forbid, there were ever a fire, they might not be able to move it in time, Faith thought, sitting down beside him. “I’m not sure that’s the answer,” she said softly. “It might be time to do something, Fred. Before something worse happens.”
His head dropped. “I promised Mona I’d take care of her.”
“And you are. You will. But you have your own health to think about, too. How would Mona feel if something happened to you? She was very worried about you yesterday, on our walk back.”
“Was she?” Fred’s wistful smile made Faith want to cry. “When Mona was more . . . herself, she always kept after me about my pills and things.”
“I bet she did. She loves you, Fred.”
“I thought bringing her here to the inn would be good for her. That having other people around would bring back to her old self.” He looked up at Faith, his lips quivering. “But I see now it’s made everything worse.”
By the time Fred finished a second cup of tea, Faith had secured his permission to reach out to his pastor about the couple’s difficulties. Faith felt Fred relax beside her as she contacted the clergyman. No one should have to shoulder this burden alone, she thought.
Though consumed by his congregants’ problems in Nadine’s wake, Pastor Wilkins kindly agreed to help the couple.
With that hurdle cleared, Faith returned to the dilemma at hand. Ever since Bruce had rerouted the Mermaid’s Purse’s financial statements to the inn, the morning mail delivered a daily reality check. Flipping through the backlog of bills in the empty dining room that afternoon, she was relieved to discover a check from the town covering the boarders’ first week. Some money was better than none; barely two weeks remained before Thanksgiving, and the stress of hiding the inn’s financial woes from the boarders was wearing on her.
Sighing, Faith sat down and had begun to sort the bills when a glum-looking Ellie wandered in, clutching a mug of tea. Even though Fred assured Ellie repeatedly over breakfast that morning that she wasn’t to blame for Mona’s wandering off, Faith’s friend was clearly finding it difficult to forgive herself.
“What are you doing?” Ellie asked.
“High finances.” Faith set aside any bills she thought could wait a month. “I’m dreading having to show these to Maeve.” Feeling much stronger now that she had transitioned to a short-term nursing home, Maeve insisted on an honest appraisal of the inn’s finances, although she still permitted Bruce to wage the inn’s bigger battles with the bank.
“I’ll keep you company,” Ellie said, pulling up a chair. “Let me know if I can help.”
Faith found Ellie’s presence reassuring. In the course of unloading her burdens, Faith had also confided the fate of The Mermaid’s Purse, swearing Ellie to secrecy, which Ellie immediately pointed out as being ironic, given Faith’s reaction to her mother’s birth certificate bombshell.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, Faith, but how bad—” Connie entered the dining room, but stopped short when she spotted Ellie. She tucked the book she carried under her arm and glared at the envelopes spread on the table, then at Faith. “Did you . . . ?” She angled her head ever so slightly in Ellie’s direction.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Sterling,” Ellie said smoothly. “I won’t say a word.”
Connie sighed. “So you know, too. It’s a shame. All poor Maeve has left is her memories.” Connie set her book on the table. “I thought I’d take one of these guest books along on our next visit, to try and cushion the blow of the financial statements. Have you seen them, Ellie? There are so many sweet comments from people who’ve loved staying here.”
Ellie picked up the guest book, opened to a random page and began to read: “‘My husband and I spent our first wedding anniversary at The Mermaid’s Purse twenty-five years ago, returning every year since. Maeve always treats us like honeymooners. I’m pleased to find that inn has retained its romantic charm, old-fashioned hospitality and first-rate service.’
“And here’s another one.” Ellie turned the page. “‘My parents took us to The Mermaid’s Purse every summer for twenty years. I’m thrilled to continue this tradition with my family and return with my own children.’
“They are lovely thoughts, but do you think seeing them might depress Maeve even more?” Ellie asked as she closed the book.
“Not necessarily,” answered Faith. “May I see that, El?”
Her friend slid the registry across the table, and Faith began to flip through the pages, skimming the entries. “This is amazing: here’s a review from Sonoma, California, in 2009. And Montreal. And another from Lincoln, Nebraska. Some of these guests come from quite a distance.”
“Came.” Connie wiped the tabletop with her apron. “Business hasn’t been that brisk in quite a while, from what Bruce tells me.”
“But they still came back.” Faith closed the guest book, an idea taking shape. “You said there’s more of these books, Mom?”
“Yes. A whole shelf by the front door. Why?”
“Humor me. I’ll be right back.” Faith dashed out of the dining room, returning a moment later with an armload of the guest books. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before.”
“Think of what?” asked Connie.
“This.” Faith dumped the books onto the table. “This is how we’re going to save The Mermaid’s Purse.”
57
Faith strewed the guest registries among the three with the dexterity of a blackjack dealer. “Go ahead. Have a look.”
“And what exactly are we looking for?” Ellie asked. “Did somebody slip a million-dollar check between the pages?”
“Funny. But you’re on the right track. They are worth something.” Seated again, Faith chose a guest book and opened it. “It’s simple. These books provide the entire history of The Mermaid’s Purse’s visitors. All we have to do is go through them, identify the
most impassioned guests and reach out to them.”
“For money?” Connie asked.
“Not directly. We have to think like marketers. Tap into their emotions.”
“You mean, appeal to their fond memories of coming to The Mermaid’s Purse?” Connie asked hesitantly.
“Exactly. Make them want to invest in the legacy of the place, so future visitors can have the same delightful experience.”
“The Mermaid’s Purse alumni association,” Ellie joked.
“Laugh if you want, but remember when our college wanted to knock down Evander Hall?”
Ellie nodded, recalling the popular campus meeting place. “I loved that old building. It smelled like rubber cement and pine. And it had the most comfortable chairs to curl up in.”
“Exactly. And when the school wanted to tear it down, the alumni launched a campaign to save it.”
“You think the inn guests might do the same thing to save The Mermaid’s Purse?” asked Connie.
“It’s worth a shot.” Faith flipped through a guest book. “Some of these messages go all the way back to the sixties. They’ll be perfect for the campaign.”
“What campaign?” Ellie asked.
“I’m not sure of the details yet. I need to give it some thought.”
Connie crossed her arms on the table. “Should we be asking Maeve about this? She may not want to be so public.”
“Public? The woman raffled off her inn in a national magazine,” Faith replied. “If it means her beloved Mermaid’s Purse stays in business, I’m pretty sure she’ll be on board.” She turned to her friend. “Ellie, don’t you have some design connections in the city?”
“Well, yes. One of my dad’s companies does web design.”
“Can you put me in touch with someone so we can brainstorm a bit? You’ll have to tell them there’s zero budget, though. Do you think your father will go for it?” Faith knew there would be no problem. She had witnessed Ellie sweet-talk her father into plenty of things over the course of their friendship.
“I’ll . . . I’ll certainly try. I really want to do my part.” Ellie perked up, grateful for the responsibility. “I’ll go call him right now.”
“Perfect. The Mermaid’s Purse isn’t going down without a fight.” Getting up, Faith gathered the registries. “I mean, who knows?” She hugged the books to her chest. “There might be somebody in here with a real soft spot for this place.”
58
Faith tapped her foot in line at the supermarket register, before impulsively wheeling her cart out of line and back to frozen foods to pick up a second turkey. The purchase would put their Thanksgiving feast slightly over budget, but the leftovers would offset the cost of future meals, she rationalized, dropping the twenty pounds of netted poultry into her cart. How Xander would sneer at frozen over freshly killed. Desperate times, boss.
Just two days remained before the holiday, and Faith had thrown herself into the preparations, even insisting on shopping for the food herself today over her mother’s objections. Following the emotional highs and lows of the last three weeks, from the foreclosure bombshell to Mona’s disappearance to the handoff of Faith’s fundraising ideas to the design team, the errand offered a welcome diversion. Maneuvering among the throng of impatient shoppers, Faith scanned the produce selection with a practiced eye, sniffing and rejecting squash, sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts and cranberries until satisfied, nostalgic suddenly for her stainless steel Piquant workstation in the now-shuttered city seaport.
Counting her mother, Ellie and all the boarders, Faith initially anticipated ten around the Mermaid’s Purse Thanksgiving table. But at the last minute she overheard Connie invite Bruce, which made eleven, and then Grace and Merrill had inquired whether Pastor Wilkins from the church might be included, bringing the holiday diners to an even dozen. And of course Faith would prepare a care package for Maeve, who, despite making good progress, still wasn’t strong enough to leave the nursing facility, even for a few hours.
Back in line at the register, Faith was composing mental to-do lists for the next few days when a slight middle-aged blonde got in line behind her, a couple of frozen dinners in her arms, her head down as she flipped through a tabloid.
“Why don’t you go in front of me?” Faith offered.
“Thank you. They seem to have closed the express line.” Sliding past her, the woman patted Faith’s arm without looking at her. “Love that sweater. My favorite color.”
Faith glanced down at the cardigan she’d thoughtlessly thrown on for shopping, then up at the woman’s face. She hadn’t recognized her without her distinctive red eyeglasses, but at the sweater’s mention, something clicked.
“This is your sweater,” Faith exclaimed. “And it’s about time I give it back to you!”
59
The customer who took Faith’s place in line was Tanya Lloyd, the attorney who had shared both her taxi and her cardigan the night of the women’s harrowing exodus from New York. “Contacts,” Tanya laughed, pointing to her eyes. “I’m still not used to them. No wonder I didn’t recognize you right away.”
The two women chatted for so long in the supermarket parking lot that Faith began to worry about the frozen turkeys defrosting in her cart. It turned out that Tanya had spent that first confusing evening in Bayport up at the beachfront. She had assumed her aunt Hilda remained trapped in her bungalow, only to find out Hilda had been evacuated hours earlier and moved to a temporary shelter at Bayport High School. The next morning, Tanya had wept with relief at finding her aunt safe from harm and playing cards at a cafeteria table with her fellow evacuees.
The determined Hilda refused to leave her beloved shore town, despite Tanya’s insistence, instead accepting a temporary room from a member of her bridge club.
Reluctantly, Tanya had returned to New York, sending money to cover her aunt’s care and returning to the shore every week to look in on her.
“But what’s going to happen to her bungalow?” Faith asked.
“That’s another story,” Tanya said grimly. “She took it upon herself to hire a contractor to rebuild the place. Even gave him a hefty deposit, without even a phone call to me.”
Given their impulsivity, Tanya’s aunt Hilda and Connie would probably get along famously, Faith thought.
“The problem is,” Tanya continued, “that house won’t be rebuilt anytime soon. The contractor turned out to be a con artist. A fly-by-night who stayed in Bayport long enough to cash my mother’s check and quite a few others, then vanished into thin air.”
“Oh, no. Your poor aunt.”
“If I ever find that guy, I will take him down.” Tanya leaned against her car. “It’s so surreal. I mean, look at you. Did you ever imagine when you jumped on that bus in Port Authority that you’d end up running a bed-and-breakfast? Maybe this will be a new career for you.”
Faith laughed drily. “Doubtful.”
“Why not? Not enough excitement for you?”
“Oh, there’s excitement all right.” At Tanya’s tilted head, Faith hesitated only a moment. After all, she’d already confided in Ellie, and the boarders would find out about the foreclosure right after Thanksgiving. “What would you say if I told you the bank was about to take possession of the Mermaid’s Purse?”
“That’s unbelievable,” Tanya said when Faith had finished. She wasn’t an expert in financial law, but she offered to consult with a colleague who specialized in that area. “I can try to get back to you next week, when I’m back in my office.”
“So you’re around for Thanksgiving, then?”
“Yes. I’m taking my aunt out to dinner.”
“To a restaurant? No way.” Faith slammed the station wagon’s hatch shut after loading her groceries. Having worked plenty of restaurant Thanksgivings, she always wondered why some families chose to dine out that day, no matter how elegant the setting. Maybe because she had never experienced a greeting-card type of holiday meal surrounded by loads of family, she always imagined T
hanksgiving as more memorable at home. “You and your aunt have to celebrate Thanksgiving with us at The Mermaid’s Purse.”
Visibly moved, Tanya happily accepted the invitation—and her sweater—before saying good-bye. Faith drove home from the supermarket in the approaching darkness, mentally multiplying holiday place settings and recipes as she swung into a fast food drive-in for an extra-large order of fries and an apple pie to consume as she drove. Some prepping of desserts and side dishes could commence that evening, she decided, turning onto the main road a few miles north of the inn.
This planning so engrossed Faith she found herself driving nearly on autopilot, not even noticing she’d finished the last fry. Focusing again, she gazed at the homes on either side of the road, disturbed to find that she recognized not a single landmark and fearing she had made a wrong turn. But then, with relief, she spotted The Mermaid’s Purse up ahead.
Approaching the inn, Faith suddenly realized the reason for her disorientation: the streetlights in Wave’s End were back on! After weeks of forced darkness, power had been restored. Lamps shone like beacons in the windows of house after house.
Faith rolled down the car window and delighted in the unaccustomed silence, the generators’ hums stilled just in time for the holiday.
Despite her lingering financial woes, Faith allowed herself a moment of optimism, humming as she unloaded groceries from the back of Maeve’s wagon. A good omen, the restoration of power relieved a huge burden on an exhausted community strained to its limits. With such blessings to be counted, could there be any harm in hoping Ellie’s team could shine some light on the Mermaid’s Purse’s predicament?
As Faith set the last of the grocery bags on the back porch, she felt her phone thrum in her pocket and sat on the bottom step to answer Bruce’s call. “I guess you know the lights are back on. You can come and collect your generator now.”
“I’ll be doing that shortly. It’s a relief the power’s back. Superintendent just announced school can open on Monday.”
At Wave's End: A Novel Page 16
