“We’ve had many holidays together, just the two of us,” Connie continued. “But I never would have pulled this off—and by this I mean a great deal more than this magnificent feast—without Faith. I’m forever grateful.”
At the guests’ applause, the blushing Faith bowed her head, fervently wishing her mother would wrap up her toast. But caught up in the moment, Connie continued.
“And though we’d probably rather forget the tempestuous night that brought us together, I want everyone to know”—Connie’s voice trembled as her gaze rounded the table, lingering on each person—“how blessed and thankful I feel to be with all of you today. I may have won a bed-and-breakfast, but this”—she grabbed Ellie’s hand as well as Faith’s this time—“this is my real prize. I’ll think of you as my family always. My special Wave’s End family. And I’ll never forget you.”
Faith glanced up as her mother’s voice cracked, glimpsing the shimmer of tears in Connie’s eyes, her toast taking on a prophetic poignancy. How would her self-proclaimed new family react once they learned The Mermaid’s Purse might close its doors? Faith wondered.
Roxanne raised her glass first. “To family. Bless you, Connie and Faith. We’re so grateful you opened your doors to us.”
“To family. To Maeve. To The Mermaid’s Purse. To new friends.” Tributes ran around the table, the clink of guests’ glasses as delicate as the tinkle of wind chimes.
“To old friends. And new babies.” Reaching across to tap Ellie’s glass, Faith noticed her furrowed brow. All that worry couldn’t be good for the baby.
In the meantime, Connie had invited Pastor Wilkins to say grace. After rising and leading the guests in the prayer, he asked their indulgence while he shared a Bible passage from Isaiah:
“‘And the Lord will create upon every dwelling place of Mount Zion, and upon her assemblies, a cloud and smoke by day, and the shining of a flaming fire by night: for upon all the glory shall be a defense.
“‘And there shall be a shelter for a shadow in the daytime from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for a covert from storm and from rain.’
“Amen,” the pastor concluded. “And amen to Connie and Faith, and to all the shelters and refuges in our communities, near and far.”
“Amen,” echoed the guests, heads bowed.
Gage broke the silence. “Is it okay to eat now, or is there more sappy stuff?” he inquired, invoking laughter around the table.
“Of course we can eat.” David got to his feet. “Once we carve. And, Gage, you are my sous chef today. Stations, please.” At the sideboard, David handed Gage a serving fork. “Stick it right there, dude. And don’t move a muscle until I tell you.”
Biting his lip in concentration, Gage anchored the breast of the initial bird while David sliced the meat onto a platter. Faith had to hand it to David: he had taken her suggestion to get closer to Gage and ran with it. She wondered if Roxanne had let him in on the worrisome investigation.
Meanwhile, the sumptuous sides made the rounds, the cooks explaining the dishes’ various origins, David hopping up to refill empty casseroles from kitchen reserves. Conversation ceased as the guests consumed the feast with gusto. Faith was so hungry herself she had finished half her meal before noticing that Ellie merely pushed her food around her plate.
“I know you’re upset,” Faith whispered across the table, “but you have to feed that little guy, remember?”
“I know. I’m trying.” Ellie managed a tiny bite of turkey, then set her fork down with a grimace. “I can’t get any more down.” She took a sip of water, then cupped her hand over her mouth.
Two seats away, Grace overheard Ellie’s last comment. Ever attentive, the midwife leaned over Merrill to question her. “Are you feeling nauseated, honey?”
“Not exactly. It feels more like cramps.”
Faith glanced up, alarmed. “Cramps? Why didn’t you say something?”
“They only just started.”
Panicked, Faith stood and slipped behind Connie to get to Ellie. “She can’t be in labor, can she, Grace? If she is, we’re in trouble, because her obstetrician’s all the way in the city.”
“Relax. I doubt it’s labor.” After setting down her napkin, Grace maneuvered to Ellie’s side and placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “I’m certain it’s nothing, but would you mind coming upstairs and letting me check things out? That is, if you feel comfortable with me,” she added.
“I don’t know . . .” An ashen Ellie looked up at Faith for reassurance.
“You should. I’ll come with you.” Faith helped Ellie to her feet. “It’ll be fine.”
“She’s the best, Ellie.” Merrill got up to hand Grace her cane.
Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Mona sensed trouble. “Baby,” she cried, rocking back and forth. Fred moved Mona’s water glass preemptively and held his wife tightly to calm her. Despite her discomfort, Ellie paused to reassure her charge. “The baby’s fine, Mona. See?” And as she had the day the two women met, Ellie placed Mona’s hand on her abdomen, instantly calming her. Mona leaned her head against the bulging belly. “Baby’s sleeping,” Mona whispered, eyes closed.
“That’s exactly right.” Grace gently disconnected Ellie from Mona. “Let’s go check out your little slugger, shall we?”
“I’ll be back in a sec, Mona. Don’t worry.” Ellie stopped to kiss the top of the snow-white bun she had wound for Mona after the woman’s nap, then followed Grace out of the dining room, Merrill and Faith at their heels.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Merrill murmured to her sister at the bottom of the stairs.
“Up to this? I live for this. It’s second nature.”
With Merrill assisting Grace up the stairs, Faith helped Ellie a few steps behind, relieved that her friend appeared to be breathing easier. But before she reached the landing, Ellie cried out in pain, doubled over and sank onto the carpeted steps.
64
With difficulty, Faith helped Ellie upstairs and onto her bed, where she lay on her back, one hand on her belly and the other clutching her friend’s hand.
“I’m scared,” Ellie whispered. Her palms were slick with sweat. “What if something’s wrong with the baby?”
“Don’t think like that.” Faith squeezed her hand. “Let’s wait and see what Grace says.”
The midwife entered, stethoscope draped around her neck. “Old habits. Never travel without it.” Grace slipped its ear tips beneath the soft wool cap she wore that day instead of the baseball cap. “Now go,” she said, shooing Faith out into the hall. “This won’t take long.”
Anxious and pacing, Faith did what she regretted not having done days ago: call Dennis, willing him to answer as the connection went from three rings to four.
Finally, he picked up. “Faith? Is that you?”
“Thank God. Where have you been?”
“With my family in Connecticut. Where else would I be?” Dennis sounded bewildered. And perhaps a bit drunk.
“Ellie’s been trying to call you for hours. She thinks you’re ignoring her.”
“I would never do that. My little nephew got hold of my phone earlier. He must have messed with the settings. I only just now saw all of Ellie’s calls. And now she’s not answering.”
“I know. She can’t right now.”
“Why not?” he asked, immediately suspicious. “Did something happen? Let me talk to her.”
“I can’t. She’s with the midwife.”
“Midwife? What’s going on there?”
“Nothing. I’m sure we’ll know something soon.”
“Something is not nothing. Tell me what’s happening. I can tell something’s wrong. God! Why is Ellie even down there with you, anyway?”
Faith was about to tell him that his fiancée’s coming to Wave’s End was one of the best decisions she’d ever made, but Ellie’s door opened at that moment and Grace stepped out into the hall, stethoscope around her neck.
“Is that the f
ather?” Grace mouthed.
When Faith nodded, the midwife held out her hand for the phone. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to him myself.”
65
Faith listened, astonished as Grace told Dennis the culprit was gas. The condition was quite common in pregnancy, Grace explained, and often became quite uncomfortable as the baby grew.
“Mother and son are perfectly fine,” the midwife assured Dennis.
“I don’t know how you do that for a living. My heart’s still pounding,” Faith said to Grace in the hall after handing off the call to Ellie. “Ellie’s really okay, right? I mean, you wouldn’t tell her she had gas just to make her feel better?”
Grace smiled tiredly. “Of course not. Ellie’s fine—and will continue to be, providing she takes care of herself.”
Especially now, Faith thought, picturing Ellie curled up and talking to her fiancé. Maybe Dennis was right. It might be best for Ellie to head back to Brooklyn and to him. While Mona might miss her terribly, she and Fred eventually would move to more monitored quarters, although the pastor had confided to Faith today that he had made no progress on that front. Maybe it was time to rally more resources for that search; of all the residents under this roof, Fred and Mona were most in need of a housing safety net.
In only a few months, Ellie and Dennis’s baby would arrive, Faith realized with a start. Consumed with her Wave’s End duties, Faith hadn’t devoted a single thought to Ellie’s baby shower. Hopefully, the new and improved, compassionate post-hurricane Ellie would understand the delay.
As pies, mousse and other sweets replaced the savory casseroles downstairs, Faith’s dread of informing the inn’s boarders crept over her again. Tomorrow would not be easy, she realized, getting to her feet. “What do you say we go down and have dessert, Grace? Everyone’s probably dying to know how Ellie’s doing.”
“Thanks, but I believe I’ll pass. I’m a bit tired.” She stifled a yawn. “Either I’m out of practice, or it’s all that tryptophan in the turkey.”
“Let me help you to your room and bring you some dessert. How does a bite of everything sound?”
“Delicious. But I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Burden? If you hadn’t been here today for Ellie, I don’t know what we would have done.”
“You would have managed. Babies have a way of telling you what they need, even before they arrive.”
“So, Saint Grace saves the day again,” Merrill teased, emerging from the sisters’ bedroom with a shawl. “Come, my dear,” she said, draping Grace’s shoulders. “Let’s get you comfortable.”
As Merrill guided Grace to their bedroom, Faith went and sat at the top of the stairs, not quite ready to rejoin the diners, content to catch bits and pieces of dessert chatter floating up from the dining room below: Gage negotiating with Roxanne for a chance to meet up with friends, Connie engrossed in conversation with Tanya’s aunt, Pastor Wilkins and Bruce sketching out the format of a community information night for storm survivors, and Fred gently chiding Mona to open her mouth for a final forkful.
Over these conversations floated a Bob Marley hymn of praise and thanks: David’s kitchen work soundtrack. For today at least, they were together, one Mermaid’s Purse family, and feeling all right, Faith thought, humming softly in accompaniment.
Closing her eyes, Faith wondered where this same group would be in a year’s time. She hoped they would be gathered with loved ones around their respective Thanksgiving tables, with strong, solid new roofs over their heads to protect them. To fulfill that vision for her mother, her campaign would have to succeed, she realized.
“Mind if I join you?”
Faith opened her eyes to find Tanya climbing the stairs.
“How’s the patient?” Tanya asked.
“Perfectly fine, thank goodness. How about you? Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely. So much more personal than a restaurant. You have a lovely group of guests here.”
“Maybe not for much longer.”
“Speaking of that, I did catch my colleague this week after all. Unfortunately, in terms of the foreclosure, she said the bank’s hands are tied, unless the homeowner can demonstrate a hardship—”
“Isn’t the accountant stealing Maeve’s money enough of a hardship?”
“The key word is demonstrate. Unless charges are filed, it’s really Maeve’s word against the bank’s.”
“And my mother’s stake in all of this?”
“Again, if Walker is investigated, authorities might question the legality of that contract. I’m sorry I don’t have better news. However”—Tanya dug into a pocket—“I did locate some information on loans available to small businesses affected by the storm. Given some of the damage the inn sustained, you might be eligible.”
Faith took the papers Tanya offered. “Thank you. I’m glad you both could come today.”
“Me, too. Keep me posted.”
As Tanya headed off to collect her aunt, Merrill emerged from her bedroom.
“Think they left any dessert for us?” Merrill peered over the railing.
“Doubtful. Looks pretty picked over. Is Grace sleeping?”
“Yes, finally. She has a slight fever. I think she’s a bit run-down. And a little pissed off at me.”
“What for?”
Merrill sat down beside Faith. “Because I read her the riot act. Told her she’s done a ton of good here, but she really needs to check in with her doctors and focus on her own recovery.”
“And her reaction?”
“Of course she didn’t want to hear it. Said the work at the church makes her forget her fatigue. But I’m worried. She hides it well, but Grace really has been dragging the last few days.” Sighing, Merrill turned to Faith. “I think it’s time for us to head back to Pennsylvania.”
66
Grace’s and Merrill’s bags were already beside the front door when a yawning Faith came downstairs at six the next morning.
As it turned out, everyone—including Ellie, who radiated good health after last night’s scare—assembled at breakfast to say good-bye.
“What’s all this? The farewell committee?” Grace joked weakly as she came downstairs to breakfast, her signature baseball cap back in place. As everyone ate, Grace made the rounds, saying good-bye to each guest. When she got to Ellie, she cupped the young woman’s face with her hands.
“Now, remember: no broccoli or Brussels sprouts. And send me a picture when that little slugger is born. I assume you and your young man sorted everything out?”
“We did,” Ellie said. “We’re good.”
“Excellent. Because that little baby needs his mommy and his daddy.”
Farewells made, Grace gazed around the dining room. “I’ll certainly miss this place. You made us feel so welcome.” She sought out Connie, who lingered in the rear of the small group. “I just realized we never signed your guest book. I’d like to do that before we go.”
“Of course.” Coming forward, Connie retrieved the newest registry from the pile so Grace could add her name. Grace then passed the pen to her sister, who in turn handed it to Ellie, and so on, down the line of guests.
When all had signed, Merrill took her sister’s arm and led her outside. Gage followed with the women’s bags, as instructed by his mother. As they headed down the steps, a car screeched to a stop in front of the inn, and Alicia, the church volunteer from Faith’s day of sandwich-making, hopped out.
“I’m so glad you two haven’t left yet,” she called. “I have something for Grace.” From a bag, Alicia extracted a birdhouse made of balsa wood, painted cornflower blue, with a glossy crimson door that matched its mailbox and a trio of tulips blooming in a three-dimensional emerald pot. “This birdhouse turned up after the storm. It’s been in our lost and found for weeks now, and no one has claimed it,” Alicia explained. “After Merrill told me your concern for the birds, I couldn’t think of a better home for it than yours, Grace. Our bird lady.”
Overcome, Grace accepted the gift. As she held it up for everyone to admire, a dusting of fine sand fell from it. “Perfect. It’s filled with the Jersey shore!” Grace laughed. “I will treasure this. And find the perfect spot for it in my garden.”
“And thank you, Merrill, for everything you’ve done,” Alicia added. “We will miss you both very much.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll see us again.” Birdhouse under her arm, Grace rapped the black namesake hanging from the inn’s mailbox with her knuckles. “Keep doing what you’re doing, mermaid’s purse,” she said, with a wink at Faith. “We’ll be back soon. There will be work to do here for a very long time.”
67
Apologies for leaving so suddenly. Hope this covers things.
Faith’s throat constricted as she read the sisters’ hastily scrawled note, having discovered it wrapped around a wad of bills on Grace’s nightstand, an amount more than covering several weeks of lodging.
With red tape slowing the release of Wave’s End emergency housing funds, the sisters’ departure officially reduced the Mermaid’s Purse’s trickle of income to zero, which made the women’s gesture all the more touching. Though Connie easily could have filled this vacancy from the town’s growing list of housing requests, the inn’s uncertain financial picture gave her mother pause.
More pressure for this campaign to succeed, thought Faith, tucking the money into her pocket. They were scheduled to meet in the dining room after lunch, when Faith would unveil her plan to save The Mermaid’s Purse. Ellie had come through with a gifted creative team to interpret Faith’s concepts, and the designers had descended the week before for inspiration, photographing the inn and peppering Faith and Connie with questions.
Today, Faith sought feedback from her mother, Ellie and Bruce on the website the designers had created.
The moment was opportune, the inn tranquil with Fred and Mona napping, Roxanne braving Black Friday insanity to replace some possessions ruined in the storm, and David and Gage volunteering along with David’s surfing posse in the ongoing community-wide cleanup.
At Wave's End: A Novel Page 18
