“Not yet,” he whispered. “Don’t go just yet.”
“Alex?”
“Hmmmm?”
“Are you all right?”
“I think so. It’s been a big shock, though, finding out that the woman I believed was my mother was really my aunt.”
“Would you have loved her less, had you known?”
“Of course not,” he replied without a second’s hesitation. “She was my mom. Nothing can change the way I feel about her.”
“And your father?”
“I never really felt that I knew my father. There was never really much of a bond between us. It’s been some years since I’ve seen him, and I don’t feel that my life is diminished in any way because of it. He never really treated me the way you would expect a father to treat his son, and he treated my mother very poorly when she needed him the most. It doesn’t bother me in the least to learn that he was not my real father. Though I can’t say it was a pleasure finding out what a bastard my real father was. And that my birth mother is out there somewhere…”
“Drew doesn’t know where?”
“He tried to track her down a few years ago.”
“Do you think you will look for her?” Abby sat up and massaged the muscles that were tightening around his neck and shoulders.
“I don’t know, Abby. I need some time to sort this all out,” he said softly. “Nothing could ever make my mother less than my mother. And nothing could ever change the fact that Gran was—is—my grandmother. She’s always been there for me, Abby. She gave me so much over the years— the fact that she and I do not share the same blood does not change what she is in my life. I’ll never love her any less.” Alex’s voice cracked slightly.
Abby leaned over his shoulder, her arms around his neck, and felt the warm tears that flowed freely down his face.
“The hardest thing is not finding out that I have a brother, it’s knowing that we didn’t have each other all these years. It’s knowing that if Gran had not turned him away, things could have been so different for him. All those years, Abby, he thought he had no one…”
“I suspect that’s preying heavily on Belle’s conscience.”
“Gran reacted to a situation that nothing in her experience had prepared her for. She is a very good woman who made one very wrong decision. How can I hold it against her, that one mistake?” He shook his head, trying to reconcile the bits and pieces of the truth and the aftermath of their revelation.
“How does Drew feel?”
“I don’t know, but I expect I’ll find out in a few hours.” His hands sought her arms and stroked them slowly, and he seemed to drift into deep thought. “Drew and I are going fishing.”
“Now, you will remember to thank Alex for us, won’t you, Abby?” Sue Turner said as she tucked the sprig of lavender Abby had offered into her purse.
“I certainly will,” Abby assured her as she accepted the checks offered by Jeff and Bob, who turned to gather up the overnight bags. “And we’ll look for you on Thursday, on your way back.”
“Now, will you be planning something this weekend, a treasure hunt, another whodunit?” Jeff asked expectantly.
“Ah, no.” Abby, whose nerves were still raw from the sight of Cerise waving a gun around the night before, shuddered at the very thought of reliving a minute of what could have been a tragedy. “As a matter of fact, Alex and I have decided that we’re not really interested in repeating that type of performance.”
“Well, do you think maybe you could arrange for something when I have my managers’ meeting in the fall? It might add a light note to what could turn out to be some pretty intense workshops,” Bob Conroy prodded.
“I doubt it.” Abby shook her head. She’d had about all the intensity she could take. “I think we’d rather direct our energies toward the food and the ambience of the inn.” And away from gun-wielding intruders, real or make- believe.
Abby waved at her departing guests from the front steps. Once the car had driven off, she started back toward the house. Crossing the front porch, she noticed the wicker chairs sat somewhat askew around the table in the far corner of the porch where the guests had had their hors d’oeuvres the night before, and so she proceeded to straighten them, placing the slender white legs under the table at just the right angle. The pitcher of tulips Naomi had placed there the afternoon before still graced the center of the table, lending a casual elegance to the setting. One of the guests had left a cocktail napkin on the table, and she shook its few crumbs over the porch railing for the birds.
Come and sit for a moment, the comfortable corner seemed to insist. Unable to resist the invitation, she did.
I wonder how Alex and Drew are doing. They have so much to talk about, so many years to catch up on. How long, if ever, would it be before they will be able to accept each other, think of each other, as brothers? I wonder if Drew will ever be able to forgive Belle—and how Alex will handle the news, once it sinks in, that Josie was not in fact his mother, that Krista is not really his sister, and that everything he thought was true about his family was in fact fantasy. Is he strong enough to understand that he is who he is regardless of who his “real” parents may have been—or will the truth somehow change him, change how he sees himself, how he sees his world, how he sees even me?
Abby leaned over the railing and deadheaded some dried and spent azalea blossoms. She wanted it all to work out for all of them—wanted Drew and Alex to learn to care about each other, wanted them both to make their peace with Belle and with each other and with the past, so that they could all go forward and their lives could mesh the way families need to do. She prayed they would have the chance to do that.
All I ever wanted was Alex. Alex and a life here with him in Primrose.
An errant breeze seemed to waft a drift of lavender across the open end of the porch, surrounding Abby in the beloved fragrance. The scent never failed to comfort her, and for a moment it almost seemed as if Leila herself was there to assure her that all would indeed be well, if only she could be patient for just a little longer.
Smiling at the very thought of it—of Leila leaning over her like an elderly but loving guardian angel—Abby knew it would, in fact, all be well.
She stood and pushed the chair back in. Feeling the small wad of paper she had earlier tucked into her pocket, she withdrew the checks, unfolding them curiously. Just how much had Alex told their guests their night’s lodging and dinner would cost?
Each check had been made payable to the Primrose Inn in the amount of $185, the memo portion of the Conroys’ check noting “$125 room, $60 dinner.”
Hmmm, she thought. Not bad: $370 for two rooms and four meals. Not a fortune, but it was the first money she had made in months.
Smiling, Abby went into the house and up to the second floor. Wandering down the hall, she threw open the doors of the rooms she had spent the last five months renovating, admiring her work as if seeing it for the first time, measuring the qualifications for guest accommodations of first one room, then the next, as if through the eyes of a stranger.
By the time she found herself in the room that was next on her “to do” list, she knew that Sunny had been exactly right.
The house at Thirty-five Cove Road was screaming B&B. Up until now, Abby had not been listening.
43
The late-afternoon sun—still casting a fierce blaze, although it was only June—had shifted just enough behind the trees to allow a bit of shade to fall across the neatly groomed flower beds. Abby bent down to inspect the nasturtium transplants that Naomi had raised from seed and handed over to Abby the day after the wedding plans were announced.
“I can see the whole thing already.” Naomi had beamed. “We’ll do a garden party to make Leila proud. Now, let’s see, we’ll want to serve lots of colorful, if not slightly exotic edibles. I’ll do the hors d’oeuvres, of course. I think nasturtium blossoms stuffed with an herbed cheese and some cherry tomatoes stuffed with pesto… Abby, are you writing
this down?”
And off Naomi had gone, putting her own spin on Leila’s garden tea menus and insisting upon planting certain flowers, herbs, and vegetables in Abby’s garden as well as in her own. Every day for the past week, she had had Abby checking the nasturtiums, hoping for just the right amount of bloom come Saturday, just three days away. Abby lifted one large orangey blossom to inspect it. She thought they’d be right on the money for the wedding.
Abby plucked a few dried blooms from the early- blooming perennials and crushed the spent petals in the palm of her hand. She enjoyed these few moments alone in her garden, especially since the past few days had been so hectic, and the rest of the week—starting tomorrow morning, when Susannah was to arrive with her mother and three sisters—could only be bedlam. Aunt Catherine would be of enormous help, Abby knew, and, as Abby’s mother’s sister, Catherine would perform all those tasks normally left to the mother of the bride. Abby’s cousins had already committed themselves to Naomi’s work crew. The Hollisters were all hard workers, had been hard workers all their lives, but they never had the likes of Naomi to contend with. Vowing that this would be a wedding Primrose would never forget, Naomi had lists of things to do prepared for each member of Abby’s extended family. God have mercy on the soul who failed to pull his or her weight—Naomi would be merciless if all was not completed properly and on time.
Abby looked to the river, shading her eyes to catch a glimpse of Alex as he worked on the boat that had been delivered just days earlier. It was everything he had ever dreamed of in a craft, and Abby had been delighted to buy it. After all, it was Alex who had found the pearl dealer in New York who had offered them such a phenomenal amount of money for the lustrous beads that had rolled out of the side of the picture frame, rendering Abby totally speechless for the first time in her adult life.
In the wake of the unfolding family drama, the pearls had been pretty much forgotten until the following day. Drew and Alex had returned to the house late that afternoon, sunburned and subdued, though clearly having scratched the first tentative surface of kinship. After dinner, they had traded childhood memories. As the intensity of the conversation had begun to wane and a more relaxed air settled over the dinner table, Belle had fetched the picture frame from the morning room and opened it on the dining-room table.
“Did you ever see such a sight?” Abby had whispered in awe as the creamy rounds rolled across the linen tablecloth.
“Wow!” both men had exclaimed simultaneously.
“What do you propose to do with them?” Alex had asked, rolling one of the cool pearls in the palm of his hand.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” She had shaken her head in wonderment. “What does one do with such things?”
“The stuff fantasies are made of,” Drew had mused. “Pearls this big would have to be worth a king’s ransom. There can’t be too many more like these, anywhere in the world.”
“Well, Ab, what will you spend the money on?” Alex’s chin had rested in the palm of his right hand.
“Are they mine?” She’d frowned. “Do they belong to me?”
“What did Leila’s will say about Thomas’s possessions?”
“They belong to me.” Abby’s smile had spread slowly, then blossomed and lit up her face. “They belong to me. I can get a new furnace. And I can call in a mason and get the chimney fixed. And I can…”
“…buy your fiancé a boat.” Alex had slipped in his request.
“I could buy my fiancé a boat. Maybe. If he promised not to surprise me with unexpected guests again,” she’d teased.
“Well, now, you know, a small-town law practice may not generate much income the first year or so. The time may come when you might be sending me out to scour the Outer Banks for some paying guests.”
“Then again,” Drew had interjected, “you never know what else Thomas may have hidden around the house.”
Abby had gone to Alex, and he’d pushed his chair back from the table so that she could sit on his lap. “Just think,” she’d said, “of all the fun we’ll have over the years looking for little trinkets here and there around the house.”
“I would hardly call these little trinkets.” Belle had held a pearl up to the light and sighed. “And to think, Abigail, if you had sold everything right off as you had wanted to, some other deliriously happy soul would be facing the enviable dilemma that now faces you. What to do with the pearls, and whatever else might be hidden under your nose, just waiting to be uncovered.”
“Well, Gran, we’ll have a lifetime to find out,” Alex had told her.
“What do you mean?” Belle’s eyes had narrowed expectantly.
“I mean that Abby and I are going to get married.” Alex had folded his arms around Abby and waited for Belle to react. “We are, actually, planning on living quite happily ever after, right here under this very roof.”
“No! You don’t say!” she’d exclaimed, bracing herself against the back of her chair.
“I do indeed say,” he’d assured her.
“Why, Alexander, that is wonderful. Just wonderful. Abigail, I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. Why, it’s all we’ve ever wanted, Leila and I.”
“I’m only sorry Aunt Leila couldn’t be here for the wedding,” Abby had said sadly.
“Oh, but, of course, she will!” Belle had declared, then paused before adding, “That is, I feel certain that she’ll be here in all our thoughts. Now, do tell me all the plans…”
“We haven’t actually made any yet,” Abby had told her. “But we will. Tomorrow we will spend making plans. We will plan a wedding to set Primrose on its very ear.”
Those plans had included a honeymoon they would never forget.
Once she had assured herself that the proceeds from the pearl sale had covered the cost of the needs of the house, Abby had surprised Alex by suggesting a trip to Maryland to check out the boat sales at several marinas along the Chesapeake Bay. It would be a window-shopping expedition only, they had agreed. They had barely arrived at the first boatyard when they saw her. Thirty-six feet long and newly painted white, she’d stood slightly apart from the others. It was love at first sight as far as Alex was concerned, but when Abby had rounded the back of the boat and read the name painted in black, she knew it was meant to be. Thirty minutes and one big check later, the Layla was theirs.
Alex had spent the best part of the past week customizing the craft and preparing for their floating honeymoon. He had scrubbed the deck, cleaned the cabin, spiffed up the small galley kitchen, and added a new refrigerator and microwave oven. He’d made up the state room’s queensized bed with cream-colored satin sheets he had secretly purchased in Hampton the last week he spent in the employ of Pendleton and Vickers. Having declared the Layla off-limits to Abby until after the wedding, the groom had begun to stock up or. all the necessities for a honeymoon cruise. The champagne was already chilling in the refrigerator, and by the time they were ready to set off into the sunset, Naomi would, she promised, have a picnic hamper filled with all manner of incredible goodies prepared especially for the wedding couple.
Immediately following the reception, they would cast off and follow the intercoastal waterway through North Carolina to Virginia and up into Maryland, where they would cruise the bay and dock each night at one of the marinas where they could find safe harbor as well as restaurants within walking distance to eat their fill of soft-shell crabs and ocean-fresh fish. During the day, Alex could fish from the deck while Abby lounged on the deck, slathered in sunscreen, and sipping cool drinks. It would be lazy, relaxing, and totally indulgent for ten days.
Abby’s heart skipped a beat as Alex leaped the short distance from the boat to the dock to gather something before springing back to the boat. Seeing him in motion always brought a smile to her lips. He had all the grace of a big, somewhat lazy cat, whose movements were never forced or strained but always easy, always natural. Watching him stirred a warmth within her, and she smiled to herself, wondering if she’d have en
ough time to drag him off to the carriage house before dinner.
Of course, the carriage house was a bit of a wreck these days, she reminded herself, what with Drew and Alex having stripped a portion of the interior to frame out Alex’s new law office, which would consist of two rooms—a small reception area and a larger, more open space that would serve as both library and office. Once their efforts began, Abby suggested that perhaps Drew might like to claim a section on the second floor, so that he would have an apartment there for his own use, a home base for the first time in his life. He and Alex had been working diligently and were awaiting the arrival of the electrician and the plumber at some point over the next week.
Abby slowed her pace and looked to the sky. The weather outlook for the weekend was uncertain, and Naomi was pressing her to decide if they should abandon their plans for a garden wedding and go directly to Plan B, which would necessitate moving furniture around in the house and the construction of the garlands of ivy and multicolored roses that Naomi, who had an unrivaled eye when it came to such things, insisted should drape the stairwell and the mantels. It was a decision Abby could not put off beyond Thursday evening. The weatherman had twenty-four hours left to make up his mind and, once having done so, had better stick with it, unless he wanted to deal with Naomi’s wrath. Maybe, Abby thought, they should just go with the wedding in the front parlor. If the storm remained at sea, as some predicted it would, they could still have the reception in the garden. Besides, she had loved the vision of white roses Naomi had conjured up as much as she loved the idea of exchanging vows in the same spot her parents had stood. She would discuss it once and for all with Alex later this evening.
He turned toward her as if he had sensed her presence, raising his fingers to his mouth to send a sharp whistle, quick and clean as an arrow, winging from the dock to where she stood in the midst of the geraniums. Laughing, she all but skipped down the slight incline to join him.
Carolina Mist Page 38
