The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

  “I know.”

  “Thanks. She dragged us both from work. She deserted her children, who seem weird enough without all the extra stress. And landed Grammy in the hospital.”

  “You don’t know that you can blame Vivienne for that.”

  “Oh yes I can. And God knows what else.”

  Chloe brought her coffee over to the table and sat down next to Issy. “Do you have any idea what Vivienne is up to?”

  “Not a clue. Mandy said last night that she had gone to look for Dan. But she’s such a little drama queen I didn’t pay any attention.”

  “She didn’t elaborate?”

  “No, but I didn’t encourage her with the police standing nearby.”

  “Are you worried about her?”

  “Not yet. If Grammy hadn’t ended up in the hospital, the kids could have come and gone and none of us would have been the wiser. Steph also said she was supposed to call on Saturday. But if that’s the case, why doesn’t she just answer her phone? I tried to get her several times last night. It went straight to voice mail.”

  “Maybe she and Dan are having a romantic week away from home.”

  “Or she ran off to be a movie star and dumped her children on Leo.”

  Chloe sighed. “I suppose it would be better being raised by Leo than by Vivienne.”

  “True.” Issy shuddered dramatically.

  Chloe laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “Not funny.”

  Issy shook her head, then spluttered out a laugh and they fell back into a friendship that had lasted through the years, even when Issy had been gone.

  They were laughing when Ben dragged two dripping children back into the kitchen.

  “Oh, dear,” Chloe said wiping her eyes. “What happened?”

  “These two rugrats decided they knew better than I did how to look for frogs. Squirt here slipped on a rock, Mandy grabbed for him and fell in.”

  “I tried to save him,” Mandy said, her bottom lip jutting out.

  “Both of them went in headfirst. It’s a good thing we haven’t had any rain lately.” He winked at Chloe and Issy. “I would have had to chase them all the way down to the ocean before we could fish them out.”

  “We coulda drowned!” wailed Mandy.

  “Shut up,” came a voice from the doorway.

  “Oh, goodie,” Ben said. “Miss Sweetness and Light is awake.”

  Steph stood in the doorway, slouched on one hip and wearing what looked like the same clothes she’d been wearing the night before. Khaki trousers rolled up above Doc Martens and stained at both knees, white button shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow and looking limp and grayish. Then Issy recognized them. Steph was wearing Leo’s old gardening clothes.

  She didn’t look at anyone and only moved aside when Ben nudged the other two past her with the admonition to go get cleaned up and “Don’t leave your wet clothes on the floor, on the bed, or in your suitcases.”

  Steph wrinkled her nose as they ran past.

  Chloe jumped up. “Morning, Steph. Sit down, I’ll make you some blueberry pancakes.”

  “They’re safe,” Ben said. “Vegetarian blueberries. They don’t eat teenagers.” He grinned at her.

  “I’m only twelve.”

  “Then you might be in trouble.”

  Steph rolled her eyes and sat down opposite Issy.

  “Your outfit looks familiar,” Issy said.

  Steph looked up sharply, something flashed in her eyes. Anger, defiance? “Grammy Whitaker gave them to me. She said I could keep them.”

  Issy nodded. If Vivienne saw her lanky daughter dressed up as Leonore, it would push her over the brink. “They look cool.”

  “They’re okay,” Steph said, looking down.

  “Are you short on clothes or is this a fashion choice?”

  “I have plenty of clothes. I just don’t want to wear them.”

  “Cool.”

  Chloe put a plate of warm pancakes down in front of Steph.

  Steph frowned.

  “They’re just regular pancakes,” Chloe explained.

  “Tofu’s out of season,” Ben said.

  Chloe punched him.

  Steph scowled at him and reached for the syrup.

  “I made a grocery list,” Chloe said. “Hope you don’t mind, but the cupboard is pretty bare.”

  “You mean for once Mandy wasn’t exaggerating about starving?” Issy asked. “And where is Mrs. Norcroft? Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

  Chloe shrugged. “I guess. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t kept my eye on them lately. Between working and the bungalow, I’ve been remiss.” She slapped her head. “I could have been bringing them dinner instead of fattening up Ben here. I know he throws half of what I make away.”

  “Only because you make so much of it. I have a freezerful and so do you.”

  “That just makes me feel worse,” Chloe said, and sank onto a kitchen chair.

  “Well, don’t,” Issy told her. “Leo’s family should be making sure these things are taken care of. But you know the Whitakers, nobody talks to anybody.”

  But she was going to start. At least with Leo and Fae. She owed her grandmother and grandfather and great-aunt everything. They gave her a home when Jillian dumped Vivienne and her on them. They never resented the girls. Gave them love, and stability, and paid for their educations.

  “I should have—”

  “Both of you cut it out,” Ben said. “The market still delivers. They weren’t going to starve to death, no matter what the drama princess says. And I can pick up groceries today if you need me to.”

  “Absolutely not,” Issy told them. “Thank you for making the list, but I can go to the store. I’m sure you have plenty of things you need to do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Tried to remember what it was he did for a living. They hadn’t crossed paths in years.

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s already been tromping out in the marshes this morning.”

  “Dear sis, I don’t tromp in the marshes. I delicately skirt them except when taking readings, and then I’m very careful not to disturb things any more than necessary.”

  Chloe gave Issy a sideways glance. Issy could tell she was fighting a smile. “Oh, sorry. I meant tiptoeing. Tiptoeing through the marshes . . .” she warbled.

  “Very funny. Hey, Is, can I bum a ride to the hospital to get my truck?”

  “You really need to ask? Just let me get my bag.”

  Ben was waiting by the SUV when she got outside, but she took a moment to look around. She’d been too exhausted to notice anything but the lights last night. And the dark concealed things that were so obvious in the daylight.

  The massive oak trees that sheltered the house from the heat of the summer sun weren’t the only things looking their age. The old American Gothic mansion where Issy had grown up and where some of the great artists of the century had stayed and played was in need of a coat of paint.

  “Growing roots?”

  Issy shook herself. “Just taking it all in. And wondering if . . . oh, here she comes.”

  Fae Whitaker hurried out of the woods and across the lawn. She was lugging a tapestry bag and had swathed a magenta crocheted shawl around her already colorful ensemble.

  “Oh, good, I’m not too late.” She walked right past Ben and opened the back door while Ben was opening the front door for her. “I never sit in front,” she said, and climbed in. “It feels like warp speed.”

  Issy and Ben exchanged looks over the hood of the SUV and got in.

  No one spoke at first. There wasn’t much to say. Issy didn’t know what they would find today and she was sure Fae was worried, too. She was worried for them both. Fae couldn’t care for Leo. And Leo would refuse to go into a rehab center.

  Neither of them would be able to stay at the Muses without help.

  “Aunt Fae, is Mrs. Norcroft still coming in every day?” Issy looked in the rearview mirror.

  Fae was h
olding tightly to her bag.

  “Aunt Fae?”

  “I heard you. No, she isn’t.”

  “When does she come in?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “She retired?”

  “No.”

  Issy exchanged looks with Ben. Why couldn’t her aunt just fill in the details without Issy having to drag them out of her?

  “She didn’t die?”

  “No, of course she didn’t die.”

  “Then what happened to her?” Issy asked, exasperation nearly getting the better of her.

  “Vivienne fired her.”

  “Because she was getting too old?”

  “For stealing.”

  Chapter 5

  “Stealing? Are you sure?”

  Fae looked out the window. “That’s what she said.”

  “After what? Forty years? I don’t believe it. What did she steal?”

  Fae didn’t like confrontation, but it was hard to have a conversation in the rearview mirror when the other person was looking out the window. And the person she should be asking was Vivienne. Something she would add to the list of growing questions she had for her sister—when she found her.

  Issy tried one more time. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Says who?” Issy breathed in, let it out slowly. She had a long fuse usually. It didn’t pay to get angry in her business, too many priceless pieces of art, too many rich and philanthropic art patrons, many of whom needed to be constantly stroked, not yelled at. But Issy felt like yelling now. If George hadn’t fought with his father, George would be in charge and Vivienne wouldn’t be able to wreck their lives because of her unending resentment.

  But it was useless to get angry. It would just ricochet across the family and end up hurting those she loved most.

  Issy pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Shall we drop you off at your truck, Ben?”

  “I thought I would come up for a minute if they’re letting non–family members in. Just to say hello and then I’ll leave you girls alone.”

  “Yes, Ben, do,” Fae said before Issy could answer, so Issy merely repeated her aunt’s words. “Yes, do.”

  Leonore was sitting up in bed, her eyes closed, when the three of them tiptoed into her room. Even in a blue hospital gown with her hair unclasped and wisping at her face, her grandmother looked . . . regal, if a little tired. She was smiling almost as if she’d known they were coming.

  Issy stepped ahead of the others and took her grandmother’s hand. “Grammy?”

  “Wes?”

  “N-no, it’s—”

  “It’s your granddaughter Issy,” Fae said, so uncharacteristically loudly that both Issy and Ben started.

  Leo’s eyes fluttered opened. She frowned. “Issy? Oh, dear. What are you doing here? You didn’t have to come.” Her gaze flitted from Issy to Fae. “Fae, you shouldn’t have worried Issy.”

  “But she didn’t, Grammy,” Issy assured her. “Amanda called me.”

  “Amanda?”

  “So you can blame the little drama queen,” Ben told her.

  Leo sighed. “Amanda. Zestful.”

  Zestful—one of Leo’s highest compliments.

  “What you really mean is ‘little hellion,’” Ben said. “Morning Leo. You look awfully chipper.”

  Leo pushed herself up on the pillow. “I look a fright. More tubes and wires than Frankenstein’s bride. Please say you came to take me home.”

  “Not up to me,” Ben said.

  “I talked with the doctor last night,” Issy said. “They want to keep you in the hospital for a few days for observation.”

  “But the children are visiting.”

  Issy let that pass. She and Vivienne had come for a visit, too; they came and never left. Issy just hoped Vivienne wasn’t following in their mother’s footsteps. Issy had been frightened and lonely at first, but she’d come to love Leo and Wes and the Muses. Vivienne had never let go of her anger at being left behind. She’d blamed Issy, Leo, Wes. Just about everyone but Jillian. She wouldn’t do that to her own children

  And she couldn’t expect Leo and Fae to raise another generation of children; they’d already raised two.

  “Don’t you worry about the children. You just get better.”

  Leo sighed again, her breathing slowed.

  “I think we should let you sleep,” Issy said.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” Leo said dreamily. “I should be there. I don’t belong here.” Her free hand pinched at the sheet.

  “Leo,” Fae said in that same loud voice. “You’re in the hospital. People are here to help you. Lots of them nearby to help you.”

  Leo’s eyes opened. “Oh.” She looked around, closed her eyes.

  “You’re tired,” Issy said, glancing at Fae. “We’ll come back later.”

  Leo’s eyes opened again. “Reach in that drawer and hand me my checkbook.”

  “I have cash if you need any while you’re here,” Issy said.

  “I don’t need a thing here. And you’re not going to use your hard-earned salary to feed and entertain those children. We still have an account at Ogden’s Market, but you’ll need other things, too.”

  Issy got out the checkbook and a pen.

  Leo wrote out a check and handed it to her, leaned back on the pillow, and let the pen slide from her hand.

  “I’ll try to get back this afternoon,” Issy told her, but Leo had already drifted off.

  Ben followed her to the door, but Fae held back.

  “Can I have just a minute?”

  As soon as Issy and Ben left the room and the door was securely closed behind them, Fae turned to her sister-in-law.

  “Leo wake up.”

  Leo sighed.

  “I know you’re medicated but you need to listen.”

  Leo lifted her hand, waved it listlessly in the air. Fae captured it and held on to it.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Fae looked toward the door. “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about us both.”

  “You have your secret love to protect you. And I have Wes.”

  Fae’s blood ran cold. It was times like this when Leo said things that made Fae really worried about both their sanities.

  She was supposed to be the crazy one and she was—a little. She was different, allowed her mind to explore paths and byways, but she always called it back. It was Leo who sometimes slipped away and seemed to have no real reason to come back to them. Unlike Fae, who had the best reason ever. And if Leo did that, slipped into the past and stayed there where she had been truly happy, Fae didn’t know what she could do to save either of them.

  And with Issy here, they might be in real peril. Issy was observant, intelligent. It wouldn’t take her long to realize that Leo was living somewhere else. What she thought of Fae was anyone’s guess.

  She reached inside her bag, pulled a necklace of crystals out, and pressed it into Leo’s hand. Closed her fingers over it.

  Leo didn’t resist, just sighed in her sleep or wherever she was.

  Fae whispered an ancient chant over the bed. Warding off the two things she feared most. That someone else would decide their future. And the ultimate fear—something everyone had to face one day—the fear of what happens to the mind when it grows old.

  Just say it, Fae. Dementia, Alzheimer’s. No matter how well you care for it, the mind can just slip away. And if you’ve challenged it in all sorts of ways, it might slip away that much faster. Because reality wasn’t a game you played until you got tired or bored and you closed the board, shut off the screen, and went to bed.

  It was a far cry from withdrawing from what was real and not knowing the difference.

  And these days she wasn’t sure Leo always did. And that would be their undoing.

  Fae looked so disheartened when she came out to the hallway that Issy decided not to question her more about what had been happening at the Muses.

 
“She looked better today,” Issy said. “She’s just still groggy from the drugs.”

  Fae shot her a fleeting look, then nodded.

  “Ben, would you mind taking Aunt Fae home? I want to get to the store and bank, then I have some work I need to do.”

  “Gladly, but I can do the shopping if you trust me. Chloe does.”

  “Thanks, but I can handle it. And Aunt Fae, can we talk later? I feel like we haven’t had a minute to . . . visit,” she finished, thinking that pick your brain might cause her aunt alarm.

  “Of course, dear.”

  “Don’t hurry,” Ben told Issy. “We’ll just be back at the homestead relaxing with Chloe and the Brats: Whiner, Moaner, and Slump.”

  “Sounds like an eighties rock band,” Issy said.

  “If only,” he answered. “You don’t mind my truck, do you, Fae?”

  Fae shook her head.

  Ben took her arm and they walked away.

  Issy deliberated about going to the bank or the market first. The market was on her way and there would be someone at the Muses to accept the groceries if she was delayed at the bank.

  The Whitakers had been shopping with one Ogden or another since Joshua Ogden had moved to the area a century ago, bought a small plot of land, a horse and a cart, and began selling vegetables to the few inhabitants that had congregated around the cove. His son built the first Ogden Market and his son had added on until it resembled the current market.

  The aisles weren’t all straight, the products not always organized in the most intuitive way. It didn’t have the selection or the lower prices of the large chain stores out on the highway, but it was only a few minutes from the Muses instead of twenty to forty depending on traffic, which in summer could turn a trip for milk into a whole afternoon’s event.

  And it was local. Issy didn’t even have to think about where to shop. She pulled into the narrow parking lot that ran alongside the one-story brick building.

  She grabbed a cart from the line along the sidewalk and read the week’s specials taped to the storefront windows as she rolled it to the entrance.

  The ancient automatic door creaked open and Issy entered Ogden’s Market: Feeding the Community since 1928.

  It had two counters, one to either side of the entrance and exit doors, which invariably created a bottleneck on busy shopping days. Today it was empty and Issy didn’t make it past the cash register before Mrs. Ogden called out, “Good heavenly days, is that Issy Whitaker?”