All Good Intentions

by Trudi Johnson

  “You think she really cared for him.”

  “I don’t know what to think. She had quite an emotional reaction when she visited his grave.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Joe. I should keep my opinions to myself, as Jeanne promptly told me.”

  Joe got up to survey the view outside the window and turned back to Carrie with interest. “What did she say to you?”

  Carrie held up her hand. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Forget I said it.”

  “Carrie,” he insisted, “I know my mother as well as anyone can, and I know she can be pretty nasty at times.”

  “I mentioned to her that Mother doesn’t like to talk about what happened in the past and I asked her not to bring it up. At least she agreed, so that’s a good thing.”

  “But she also told you to keep your opinions to yourself about the Sinclair house?”

  Carrie nodded. “And your house. I didn’t realize that she was so sensitive about it. I really thought she’d be anxious to get rid of that old house. I shouldn’t have said anything that night at Lauren’s, and I shouldn’t have said to your mother that it’s your decision and Sandi’s to choose the house you want.” She smiled. “Mother’s right.”

  “How so?”

  “She doesn’t say it out loud, but I know she thinks I tend to use my profession as a way of judging others. Please promise me that you won’t mention this to Jeanne. I don’t want to cause friction.”

  “Believe me, Carrie, there’s enough friction between Mother and me already. This would hardly add to it. She’s been asking me to take the Sinclair house. She even offered it to us as a wedding gift. On top of that, and I haven’t mentioned this to Sandi yet, she’s suggested that we hire Brittany Kavanagh, the daughter of a friend of hers, to do the interior decorating in whatever house we buy.”

  “She mentioned Brittany to us as well. I’m guessing that you’re not keen on hiring Ms. Kavanagh,” she said with a wry smile.

  “No, absolutely not.” He returned to the chair. Over the year, he had picked up his father’s habit of considering as much of what wasn’t said and what was said in a conversation. He didn’t know Carrie well, but for a moment he sensed that the events of the past few months had been more difficult for her than they had been for Hannah. She did not appear to be forthcoming with a reason. “In the meantime, Carrie,” he said, “next month, mid-August, some friends are having an engagement party for us, so if you are able, we’d like for you both to attend that as well.”

  Carrie glanced at the calendar on the wall next to her. “I’m taking some vacation time in August,” Carrie explained, pointing to the two weeks marked in red. “I’ll see what I can do.” But inwardly she was not keen about the idea.

  * * * * *

  St. John’s

  On the holiday Monday, Kurt and Jaclyn entered the eastern end of Bowring Park, an old-style English park of over 200 acres located in the west end of St. John’s. The park, opened in 1914, was busy year-round. They lingered awhile on the first bridge near the man-made duck pond and fountain. As they strolled along the edge of the pond, they paused to admire the purple and white rhododendrons in full bloom. The warm humid air smelled of earth and bright red geraniums.

  Seeing the familiar faces of Quentin and Sara near the statue of Peter Pan, they hurried to catch up. “Sara, I see you managed to drag him away from work today,” Jaclyn said, as they greeted them.

  “Yeah, it’s too nice a day to be inside.”

  The four walked up the paved path and veered off to the narrow paths on the right near the stream.

  “So, Kurt, I understand that you’ve agreed to be interviewed by Kevin Gillis,” Quentin said.

  Kurt nodded. “Doris has it set up for the mid-July holiday. I asked him to come by the house so we would avoid interruptions at work.”

  “Any word on whether he’s purchased the Sinclair house?” Jaclyn asked.

  Quentin shook his head. “All I know, Jaclyn, is that he’s had it appraised.”

  “Do you think he’ll have any competition?”

  Quentin shrugged. “It’s a big old house. Not many people interested, certainly not young people starting out. It’s ideal for what Kevin Gillis plans. Who knows? Someone else might enter the game when they hear about Kevin’s plan to make it an inn.” He slipped off his jacket and carried it. “On the topic of houses, is there any news on the house that Joe and Sandi are interested in?”

  “I saw Dan Maddox this morning,” Kurt explained. “I was sitting on our veranda and he strolled across the lawn. I think it was a deliberate effort to tell me that his transfer is confirmed and he’ll be putting the house up for sale in a week or so. He knows Joe’s interested.”

  “I really hope they get it,” Sara said. “It’ll be a beautiful home when they’re finished with it.”

  “Joe’s more impressed by the piece of land than by the house, Sara. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had it torn down so he could build a new place. In the meantime, he’s busy with other work. For one thing, he’s designing the house for Kevin in Planter’s Bight.”

  Jaclyn turned to Quentin. “Any idea why Charles bought that land in Planter’s Bight in the first place?” she asked. “I’ve been there several times and it’s a beautiful spot, but I doubt that Charles ever went outside the overpass of the city limits.”

  They sat on a green bench in the shade of a huge maple tree.

  Kurt nodded in agreement. “And when did he buy it? It seems strange to buy property that offered little in return.”

  Quentin leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “No, you’re right. I’ve wondered the same thing. My initial thought was that he felt it would appreciate in value over the years, so he held on to it.”

  “Has it?” Jaclyn asked.

  “Oh yes. Americans have been inquiring about purchasing the land for summer homes for a while.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  Quentin shook his head. “It would be, except that apparently when Charles sold the land to Kevin a few years ago, he sold it quite cheaply.”

  Sara adjusted her sunglasses and pulled her cap down to shield her face from the direct rays of the sun. “Perhaps he needed the money. What do you think, Kurt?”

  “I doubt it. He was well off, and the man was in his eighties at the time. Like many who had money in the 1970s, he made a killing when interest rates soared. Charles was an astute investor. The immediate Boland family members were all gone, so he didn’t owe them anything.”

  “Then he must have had a good reason to sell it,” Quentin commented.

  Kurt leaned back and made eye contact with his young friend. “There are a few things that force a person to do something they don’t want to do. Money is one, and we’ve just dismissed that. The other is guilt.”

  Kurt and Quentin looked at each other and wondered the same thing: What did Charles Sinclair have to feel guilty about?

  * * * * *

  Falcon Cove

  “I’m back,” Sandi called as she entered the back door. She released Patrick’s leash, tucked her camera in its case, and entered the kitchen, where Hannah was cooking supper.

  “How was your walk?”

  “Wonderful. I took photos, and I found some unusual plants. I’ll have to look them up. I also met several people, including your friend, Adelia. She invited us all over for afternoon tea tomorrow. Patrick was my calling card. People recognized him and assumed I was one of your visitors.”

  Hannah laughed. “The whole community knows Patrick. I think they all feed him as well, judging by the look of him.”

  Sandi filled up Patrick’s water bowl, sat at the end of the kitchen table, picked up the carrot peeler, and opened the bag of carrots. “It’s a quiet community, Hannah. I appreciate the chance to relax.”

 
“Yes, it is. I’ve lived here all my life. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” Hannah greased the glass dish and laid it on the stove. “So, tell me, you have lots of planning to do over the winter. Are you going to have a big wedding?”

  “It’s shaping up to be, but everyone’s helping. We’re determined not to be stressed out about it.”

  “I remember when Marshall and I were married,” Hannah said with a smile. “It never rained so hard since the world was made. And a storm of wind. I thought we’d end up blowing off the wharf into the harbour.”

  “What time of the year was that?”

  “September. We wrapped up in old clothes and walked over to the church.” Hannah spread the cod fillets out in the dish and reached for the seasonings in the cupboard. “Have you bought that house you wanted yet?”

  Sandi shook her head. “It’s not on the market yet. As soon as it is, we’ll likely make an offer. These things take time, but we’d like to own it soon so that Joe can start planning the renovations over the winter.”

  “I wonder what will happen to the Sinclair house.” Hannah carefully laid the baking dish in the oven and sat next to Sandi at the table.

  “It’s been there a long time. I guess there aren’t any members of the Boland family around who would want it either. Do you remember any of them, Hannah?”

  “I’ve been thinking about Clarence Boland since we returned from St. John’s. I only saw him a few times while I lived there, like on special occasions. He certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of me. I guess you know the story behind their marriage.”

  “Yes, Kurt told me. Charles had not intended to marry Virginia. Is that right?”

  “Apparently not. They’d gone out together, but there was nothing permanent in the works. Then Mr. Boland came along and offered Charles a substantial sum of money and a house if he married his daughter. Charles worked for him, and I s’pose he had very little choice. It was either that or go back to the old country and try to make a go of it there.”

  “Poor way to begin a marriage, wouldn’t you say?”

  Hannah nodded. “I’m afraid it remained that way.”

  She gathered the vegetables that Sandi had peeled, placed them in a large pot, and turned on the stove.

  As Sandi washed her hands in the nearby sink, she decided that now was a good time to ask Hannah about attending her wedding. “Hannah? Joe and I would love it if you and Carrie would come to our wedding next summer. All of our family and friends will be there.”

  “Sandi, my dear, I don’t know if I can take that on.”

  “It would mean so much to Joe,” she pleaded. “He’s spent the first thirty-four years of his life believing that Virginia Sinclair was his grandmother. He deserves to have you there. So does Lauren.”

  Hannah was taken aback by her words “He deserves to have you there.” Her heart fluttered. She looked across the kitchen at Sandi’s pretty smile and glistening brown eyes. How could she deny the lovely bride? She took a deep breath. “If it means so much to you both, Sandi, I’ll be there.”

  “Great! I’ll send you an invitation.”

  Moments later, they heard Carrie and Joe at the back door. Patrick made no effort to greet them, exhausted from his afternoon of exercise.

  * * * * *

  St. John’s

  Jeanne opened the refrigerator door and reached for the salad that Leah had left her to accompany a piece of broiled salmon. She shook a bottle of her favourite raspberry vinaigrette and poured it lightly across the fresh peaches and mixed greens. She laid it on the small table in the sunroom and went downstairs to the boxes that Jonathan Hamlyn had left neatly piled in the corner of the storage room. The first one was filled with receipts, mostly for heat and light, property taxes, and household amenities. She closed the box, resealed it, and pushed it aside. The second box, Household Employment Records, 1940–1960, contained cancelled cheques and invoices. The file, labelled renovations, at the back of the box caught her eye. She wondered why the records began with the 1940s, and not earlier. Dismissing the question as one that would be answered when she surveyed the remaining boxes, she took the renovations folder and headed upstairs. She laid the file on the chair in the sunroom and sat down to enjoy her dinner with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

  A phone call interrupted her meal. The name on the caller ID surprised her, but she quickly answered it. “Kevin, I hadn’t expected to hear from you. The last time we spoke you said you had a very busy July ahead. Didn’t you mention some travelling?”

  “Yes, I did, but I heard from Kurt’s assistant on Friday, and she confirmed that he’s available to be interviewed next week. I also talked to Joe, and he has some preliminary plans on the house in Planter’s Bight ready for me to see. The bottom line is I plan to fly down later in the week, hopefully Thursday. I thought I’d let you know. Do you have company?”

  “Not at the moment. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought if it were a nice day on Friday you might come with me to Planter’s Bight so you could see my property. We could have lunch at a local café. Joe and I ate there last month. It was quite nice.”

  “Yes, okay,” she responded, noting to herself that she hadn’t sounded at all reluctant.

  “Great! I’ll call when I get in. I’ll be staying at the same hotel.”

  “Perfect. See you then.” Jeanne hung up the phone and returned to her boxes of papers. What is it about that man’s voice that makes me relish each second of time?

  * * * * *

  On Thursday morning, Jeanne woke with a plan. She spent a half-hour weeding in the garden, then pushed off her gloves, poured a glass of water, and added two slices of cucumber. She was about to open the next file, renovations—1950s, when the doorbell rang. She was surprised to see Joe and Lauren.

  “Good morning, Mother!”

  “Are you both off work today?”

  “No,” Joe explained. “I’m on my way to work, but I wanted to drop off this fresh cod to you. Hannah sent it. I’ll put it in the freezer.”

  Lauren followed her to the sunroom. “Alan and I are flying out west this afternoon to spend the weekend with his family.” She looked at the piles of paper and files on the small wicker table. “Where did all of this come from?”

  “They were in with Father’s things. Jonathan had them in storage. I decided to look through them.” She pushed open the glass doors to the garden so they could sit outside.

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I wanted to see anything that had to do with renovating the house.” To avoid further inquiry, she changed the topic and turned back to Joe in the doorway. “How was your trip to Falcon Cove?”

  “Great. Sandi loved it, too. I met with the men who’ve started work on the church hall. They live in Falcon Cove and they’re grateful to have work. They said they’d have it done by the fall. By the way, I paid the account at the local hardware store, as you asked.”

  Jeanne moved from one hanging basket to the next, deadheading the petunias. “Any news on your house?”

  “It’s going on the market this week.”

  “I see. So you have no intention of taking me up on my offer to have the Sinclair house as a wedding gift?”

  “No.”

  “Other than the cod, I assume you both have a purpose for dropping by?”

  “Our godparents are arranging an engagement party for Sandi and me. Her godparents, Linda and Russell McKinnon, are flying down from Halifax and, of course, Brian and Margaret are here. It will be in August, on the seventeenth, which is a Saturday evening,” Joe explained. “They needed a large house, so Dad and Jaclyn have offered to have it at their place.”

  “You want to know if I will attend.”

  Lauren glanced at her brother, then back to Jeanne. “We assumed you would. But we’
d also like for Hannah and Carrie to be there. I think Carrie will be on vacation at that time. We’d appreciate it if you’d encourage them to come in town and, if possible, have them stay here. If not, they could stay with Alan and me.”

  “I see.”

  It was a phrase that Joe recognized as her message that she really didn’t want to, but she reluctantly would.

  “I’ve already mentioned it to Carrie, but I think she’ll need some encouragement,” Joe explained. “By the way, I don’t know if Hannah has told you, but she and Carrie have agreed to come to our wedding next year.”

  “I thought Carrie wasn’t so enthusiastic.”

  “Sandi asked Hannah, and she said she would.”

  “And Carrie wasn’t in the room at the time?”

  “No, just Hannah and Sandi. We were at the church.” Joe peered at his mother. “Why do you ask?” On their drive back from Falcon Cove, he and Sandi had compared the different responses of Carrie and Hannah to their request to attend their wedding. For now, he thought it best not to mention the discrepancy to his mother.

  Jeanne shrugged her shoulders and filed away the information. “Nothing. It’s just a little strange, that’s all.” She gathered up the flower petals in a small paper bag to compost. “I’ll talk to them, if you wish. But to be honest, I don’t have much sway with Carrie.” She dropped the bag by the steps and turned back to her son. “On a different note, I had lunch with Caroline, and she mentioned that she and Brittany are planning a trip to Montreal in the spring to look for dresses to wear to your wedding. Are you planning to invite them to the engagement party, too?”

  Joe smacked his hand on the armrest of the chair in frustration. “The last person we need at either event is Caroline Kavanagh, Mother. Heaven knows what she’d say to Hannah. Where did they get the idea that they’d be invited to our wedding?”

  “I didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I imagine Caroline assumes she’d be invited because she’s always been a friend of the family, and you went to school with Brittany. As I recall, you dated her for a while.”