At Wave's End: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  “No problem. I never use that fancy stuff. All right. Let’s see if I’ve got it: salt and water?”

  “Yes. Salt and water. Remember what Bruce said that first day: you don’t want to mess with Maeve’s scones.”

  “Yes, he did say that, didn’t he? But if this inn ends up being mine,” Connie said, licking her fingers in the moonlit bedroom, “I suppose I could mess with them, couldn’t I?”

  81

  Much later, Faith fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of the flatbed’s icy metal as her four-year-old self peppered her mother with questions: Why did they have to leave the shelter when she had just started to make friends? Why did that lady in the next bed—a woman who in Faith’s dream looked remarkably like Roxanne—cry when they left? Where would they go? Her mother tried to shush her, hunting for the scrap of paper with the name of the shelter where they were going, and coming up empty-handed.

  Faith (Audrey, then) had begun to cry, and, desperate to soothe her, Connie-then-Rita suggested a game they played often at home. They would toss a coin to decide which direction to go in, and Audrey would get to choose: heads for east and tails meant west.

  She had sat up then, excited to play this game she knew so well, a contest that frequently netted Audrey her favorite television show or dessert. In her heart, Audrey knew her mother always vetted both options before offering her daughter a choice. But this: this was bigger. Her mother had never asked her to weigh in on such an important decision. Her mother held up the nickel, then tossed the coin high in the air. Audrey heard it land with a plink on the metal floor, and her mother searched for it, worried, on her hands and knees. After several minutes, she still hadn’t located the coin, and Audrey’s heart began to race.

  At that point in the dream, Audrey-now-Faith woke, her heart pounding through pajamas soaked with perspiration. Had her subconscious produced the memory of that night, or had Faith simply reconstructed it from bits and pieces gleaned from her mother? Either way, the dream’s lack of resolution, the questions and responsibilities it raised, deeply unsettled her. Without that coin, mother and child in flight were rudderless, with no guidance as to the path they should travel, or expectations that lay ahead.

  Without that coin, how would Faith know what to do?

  82

  Waiting outside the gates of Wave’s End High School with David, Faith rose on tiptoe, peering over the masses of students pouring out of the school. “Wait, I think I see him. His hair kind of sticks out in the crowd.”

  David waved wildly. “Yo, Gage. Over here.”

  The teen shuffled over, glancing over his shoulder nervously. Probably doesn’t want his friends to see him with us, Faith thought.

  “What are you guys doing here? Is my mom okay? My dad?”

  “They’re fine,” said Faith.

  “Okay, so then what’s up? Am I in trouble?”

  “Should you be?” asked Faith.

  “No, but . . .”

  “Good. Then we’re kidnapping you,” said David.

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see,” David replied. “Hop in, bro.”

  Sated by the fast food meal consumed at their first stop, Gage stared as they pulled into their next destination. “Whoa. Is this for real?”

  “Sounds pretty real to me.” David winced as he got out of the car.

  “And my mom said this was okay?”

  “Yes, she did. And my mom, which is just as critical,” Faith answered. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”

  Inside the animal shelter, they could barely hear themselves over the barking. Strolling up and down the aisles, they stopped at each crate to look inside, petting the snouts of any dog or cat that showed interest.

  “There’s so many dogs here. How are they going to find homes for them?” Gage asked.

  “Our numbers have almost doubled since the hurricane,” explained a volunteer, overhearing. “In some cases, the dogs wandered away during the storm. In others, people had to give up their pet when they went into temporary housing after their homes were damaged.”

  “That’s so sad. How am I supposed to pick just one?” Dropping down to the floor, Gage went nose to snout with Bam Bam, a Labrador retriever.

  “Because Connie will have a fit if you come home with more than one,” said David.

  “Not to mention Pixie,” added Faith. “That cat is not going to know what hit her.”

  “This guy seems to like you.” When David sat down next to Gage, Bam Bam obligingly licked the hand he offered.

  “Anyway, you don’t have to decide today,” Faith said. “We can just have a look around, maybe play with a few of them.”

  “Are you kidding me? We are so deciding today. I’m not leaving here without a—” Gage cocked his head. “Wait a minute. That can’t be.”

  Scrambling to his feet, Gage ran down the row, David and Faith following as the teen clutched first one crate, then another, peering into each. “I know that bark,” Gage insisted. “I know he’s here. Tucker, where are you? Tucker? Tucker! Holy . . . Guys, here he is! I found him!”

  The shelter volunteer was less surprised by the reunion than David and Faith were. “You’d be amazed how often this has happened since the storm.” In Tucker’s case, a family found him immediately after the hurricane, but, unable to care for the Irish setter any longer, had dropped Tucker at the shelter a few days before.

  “Tucker.” In the back seat, Gage buried his head in the dog’s rust fur. “Don’t even try to get away from me again.”

  Up front, Faith sniffled, even catching David blinking repeatedly.

  On the ride home, Gage playfully shoved David’s shoulder from behind. “And if you tell the other guys I was crying, I’ll beat the crap out of you.” However, this threat didn’t keep Gage from sniffling while Tucker lapped his tears. “I can’t believe I found you,” he repeated.

  When they stopped at the pet store for dog food on the way home, Faith tapped Gage on the shoulder as he contemplated the array of leashes. “What do you think of this one?” From her purse, she uncoiled Tucker’s original leash.

  “What the—” Gage grabbed the leash. “How did you get that?”

  “It wasn’t that hard. Once the investigation closed, I stopped by the firehouse. Since it was no longer needed as evidence, the fire chief had no problem giving it to me.”

  83

  The Saturday of Maeve’s mermaid-themed party on the weekend before Christmas dawned crisp and monochrome, a bite in the air but minus the threat of snow. The farewell festivities would start at three o’clock; Charley Tilden had a previous engagement and would arrive around five, Ellie reported.

  Faith, David, Connie and Ellie rushed around all day putting finishing touches on the food, drink and decorations. Meanwhile, Roxanne laced sea foam streamers through banisters and chandeliers. She strung cardboard conchs, starfish and of course mermaid’s purses on fishing filament and looped them over buffet knobs, coat hooks and plate racks. She wove fairy lights through an old fishing net David unearthed in the garage, draping the net over a dining room mirror.

  At five minutes to three, the inn’s residents gathered in the front hall to greet Maeve, who would arrive momentarily with Bruce.

  “You told Bruce about Tilden, didn’t you, Mom?” Faith asked.

  “No, I didn’t. I assumed you did.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Ellie. “I’ll fill him in once he gets Maeve here.”

  When the front door finally opened, an incandescent Maeve maneuvered her walker into the front hall. Joy wreathing her face, she studied every detail, as though returning to The Mermaid’s Purse after a very long absence instead of just about seven weeks of recuperation.

  Connie wrapped Maeve in her arms. “Welcome back.”

  “Oh, my.” Maeve beamed at her welcome committee. “It is so wonderful to be back here.” Elbowed by Roxanne, Gage stumbled forward to present Maeve with a foil trident.

  “It’s a symbol of power. To go wi
th our theme.” Gage blushed furiously as Maeve reached out and patted his cheek.

  “You must be Gage, the young man I’ve heard so much about,” said Maeve.

  “That’s him, all right.” Taking Maeve’s coat, Connie ushered her into the dining room, where the invited guests had assembled. In twos and threes, dear friends and many of the local merchants stepped up to greet her, complimenting her on how well she looked. Connie remained by Maeve’s side, introducing her to the few guests she didn’t know, including Tanya and her aunt Hilda. Faith had invited the two at the last minute when Tanya called to say she’d be visiting that weekend.

  “My aunt was so excited to come back here,” Tanya said, taking Faith aside. “Thank you for inviting us again.”

  “And I can’t thank you enough.” Beyond digging into the foreclosure, Tanya had helped in another area. With Roxanne’s permission, Faith had reached out to Tanya, who immediately connected Roxanne with a local attorney specializing in spousal abuse, as well as a support group. “Donna is a good friend and a terrific lawyer,” said Tanya. “She’ll take good care of Roxanne.”

  Faith fervently hoped that with Tanya’s connection, and the support from her Mermaid’s Purse family, Roxanne would find the energy and the courage to fight for herself and her son.

  As the party progressed, Faith watched the guests consume the food with gusto. Despite the potluck invitation, she and David had nevertheless competed to interpret the whimsical mermaid theme, tapping their respective restaurant suppliers for donations. For his part, David concocted mermaid cocktails, layered rainbow confections in alcoholic and nonalcoholic versions, hand-rolled sushi, and crab and cucumber canapés.

  Not to be outdone, Faith whipped up butter-poached shrimp cocktail, starfish finger sandwiches, and an undersea vanilla mousse tinted emerald and served in individual compote glasses of Maeve’s. Crystal bowls of miniature fish crackers and gummy fish popped gold and ruby against nautical-striped beach towels Connie had draped on the dining room tables.

  Caught up in refreshing drinks and refilling food platters, Faith found that the two hours until Charley Tilden’s arrival flew by. Motioning for her mother and Ellie to join her, she slipped to the front hall to wait for him, breathing deeply to quiet her nerves, reminding herself nothing would likely be decided during this introductory discussion. But then her pragmatism went out the window, replaced by butterflies: How wonderful would it be if today’s meeting could extend the life of The Mermaid’s Purse?

  Tanya wandered over, one of David’s signature cocktails in hand. “I love what you’ve all done here today. All that’s missing is a mermaid. Although I’ve read that unlike their animated versions, some of those creatures could be downright cunning.” Taking in their serious faces, she set down her drink. “You all look a little nervous. What’s going on?”

  “We’re about to have a meeting,” said Faith.

  “In the middle of Maeve’s party? With whom?”

  “The son of one of the inn’s guests. He reached out through our fundraising site and offered to help,” answered Faith.

  “Really? And just who is this so-called savior of yours?” Tanya asked.

  “Tilden. Charley Tilden,” said Connie.

  Closing her eyes, Tanya leaned against the wall. “No. Please tell me you’re joking. Do you have any idea who that man is?”

  “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell us,” Faith said.

  “Oh, Faith. I so wish I didn’t have to. Charley Tilden is one of the most prominent real estate developers in Manhattan.”

  “So then he’s loaded. How is that a problem?” Connie asked.

  “The problem is, he’s also reviled. Tilden made his money by being an unrepentant slumlord. The ass—I mean, Tilden forced tenants out of the buildings he bought so he could build luxury condos.”

  “How do you know all this?” Connie asked.

  “Because I did a lot of pro bono work representing those ousted tenants.”

  “But if he builds luxury condos, why would Tilden be interested in The Mermaid’s Purse?” Faith asked.

  “Because he’s a snake. He’s always ahead of the market. He knows coastal property values are depressed after the storm. The vulture is probably swooping in and buying up real estate up and down the East Coast.”

  “But Tilden told us he stayed here as a kid,” said Connie. “He made a point of saying how much he loved it.”

  “Yecchh.” Tanya pretended to stick her finger down her throat. “Emotional blackmail. Doesn’t surprise me a bit. That was simply his entrée to you.”

  Faith sank onto the steps. “So that’s it, then. Tilden was our last hope.”

  “Sorry. I was stuck talking to the mayor,” Bruce said as he joined them in the hall. “So where’s this benefactor Ellie mentioned? From your face, Faith, I gather he’s a no-show?”

  “Worse. He’s a slumlord,” she answered.

  “I’m so glad no one mentioned anything to Maeve,” said Connie. “I guess it will be up to the bank now to decide what happens to this place.”

  “Could the bank sell the inn to Tilden, Tanya?” Faith asked.

  “That’s possible. Hopefully, if the bank gives you more time, Tilden will get antsy and move on.”

  “In the meantime, somebody should probably cancel our meeting with him,” said Ellie.

  “I’ll do it.” Faith got up and smoothed the front of her shirt. “After building up our hopes the way he did, nothing would give me more pleasure than to tell him the deal’s off.”

  Having washed her hands of their would-be benefactor, Faith headed to the dining room to serve dessert: colorfully iced cupcakes arranged into a free-form mermaid. An S-shaped coral swirl served as her flowing mane, an emerald horn of plenty defined the lower body and fins and two strategically placed lavender cakes designated the décolletage. The entire sea creature shimmered under a coat of sugary crystals.

  Passing the tray, Faith eventually reached the exhausted Maeve, who was saying her good-byes as Bruce waited to take her back to the nursing facility.

  “You’ve thrown me such a lovely party,” she said, clasping Faith’s hand. “All of you working so hard—on this day, and on that computer idea of yours. And after all I put you through: my foolish idea about the lottery, my trusting that accountant of mine. I don’t deserve this, after all the grief I’ve caused.”

  “Of course you do,” Faith said. “You built the inn into what it is today. And in a crazy way, through all of these hard times—the storm and your accident and the foreclosure—my mother and I learned some things about each other. Such as how resilient we are, for one. I’m grateful for that.”

  Faith handed Bruce a container of leftover mermaid cupcakes to give to Maeve’s nurses. “And now, Maeve, I must get back to work. In case you haven’t heard, my boss is a slave driver.”

  As the crowd began to thin, Faith busied herself stacking empty plates and wiping down tables, not thinking anything of it when the front door opened once more.

  “Hello!” a familiar female voice rang out. “Have you any vacancies?”

  84

  Connie, Ellie and Faith flocked to the front hall to welcome the new arrival.

  “I’m sorry to intrude. I’ve just been thinking about you all and—” Merrill stopped short, taking in the bedecked banisters, the glittering fishnets. “Oh, my. You’re having a party. I can come back another time—”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re staying.” Linking her arm in Merrill’s, Faith led her to a dining room table. “It’s so wonderful to see you. We all . . . we’re just so sorry, Merrill. The news about Grace was such a shock.”

  “Thank you. Your flowers were lovely, by the way.” Merrill looked around the decorated dining room. “Staying here made Grace so happy. You guys made her happy.”

  “As you did us. Here: eat.” Connie set a plate of party leftovers and a glass of chardonnay in front of Merrill. “I know you’re both missed at the church,” she continue
d. “Did you hear they’re still holding the dinners? Even though the power’s back on and people have found temporary places to live, they still come and eat together. Those meals have become something of a support group for the storm’s survivors. A lifeline.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. It felt special to be a part of that with my sister.”

  Connie glanced at her watch. “You know, if you stopped over at the church now, you might be able to catch the end of the meal.”

  “Tomorrow, maybe. I’d planned to stay the night here. That is, if you have a room for me?” Merrill glanced around hopefully. “You know the Abbott sisters. We never plan ahead.”

  Connie assured Merrill they could make room for her.

  “Anyway,” Merrill continued, “when I looked up the inn address to send a thank-you card for the flowers, I saw everything you’ve been trying to do: the memories, the fundraising. It shocked me. I had no idea things were so bad. I knew I needed to come right away.”

  “We’re so glad you did,” said Ellie.

  Merrill reached over and squeezed her hand. “If only Grace could see you. You look more radiant than ever. I never expected to lose my sister this soon, but hearing from the mothers of all of the lives my sister helped to usher into the world . . . “Merrill sniffed and bent her head. “Well, it does ease the pain a little.”

  “It sounds as if Grace left quite a legacy with all of those babies,” Connie said, handing her a tissue.

  “She certainly did.” Folding the tissue in her palm, Merrill cleared her throat. “But that’s not the only one my sister left. Which is why I needed to come here tonight.”

  85

  “So there it is.” Merrill’s voice shook as she refolded the page from her sister’s will and slid it back in the envelope.

  “We couldn’t possibly . . . ,” Connie said, shaking her head in disbelief.