“Oh, yes. It’s right on that shelf behind you. It’s locked, though. If you’d like to see it . . .”
“I would.”
“I’ll get the key.”
Jamie read for another few hours, making notes on things that may or may not prove to have some relevance but for now were interesting all the same. While she doubted anything she’d found would help in her personal search, she learned a lot about the town and its settlers. The more she read, the more she admired those early folks who had to ward off the native tribes as well as pirates and, from time to time, the British. She learned that the first Sinclair was an entrepreneur who made his money in ships and rails and lumber. He built the inn for his son, Daniel, and Daniel’s beautiful English bride, Cordelia, whose portrait hung in the inn’s Blue Room. Jamie made a note to check that out. There was no mention of Captain Tom, she noticed, and wondered if that story had been made up to tantalize the guests who stayed there. She wondered if the inn charged extra for the legend.
By the time she’d finished, she had pages and pages of notes listing names and dates and pages relating incidents and anecdotes. Jamie rose and stretched, gathered up her things, and went off in search of Mrs. Ferguson, whom she found in the front hall.
“Thank you so much for sharing your journals with me.” Jamie handed her the books that had been behind locked glass. “They were most interesting.”
“Were you looking for anything in particular?”
“Not really. Just trying to get a feel for the town.”
“And did you?”
“I believe I did.”
“Stop back anytime.”
“Thanks. I might do that.”
The temperature had been rising steadily all morning. In the car, Jamie rolled the windows down and turned on the air conditioner, which blasted her with hot air. Your impatience isn’t going to make the air cool down any faster, you know, her father used to tell her. You just have to be patient. Give it a minute or two to get the job done.
Jamie smiled at the memory. Her seeming inability to wait for anything had driven him crazy. “Sorry, Dad, but it’s hot as blazes in here.” She kicked the fan up as high as it would go and drove away from the curb.
It was a little after one; she was hungry and wanted a quiet place to sit and read over her notes and have something delicious to eat. She recalled the restaurant she’d passed on River Road yesterday—Blossoms—and headed there. The reviews on the town’s website were great, and the description of the decor intrigued her. In under five minutes, she was parking her car in the lot and heading into the café.
There was a vacant table near the side window, and as Jamie found her way to it, the waitress waved and assured her she’d be right over. Jamie took a seat and glanced over the menu under the table’s glass top. There were a few specials, a soup of the day, and several salads and sandwiches. The desserts of the day were displayed under glass on the counters.
The waitress arrived with a small bowl of something that looked like chickpeas.
“What are those?” Jamie asked.
“Roasted garbanzo beans,” the waitress replied. “Chickpeas.”
Jamie popped one in her mouth. It was spicy and had more than a subtle kick. Not bad, she thought.
She ordered a crab cake and a side salad, and munched on the roasted beans and sipped iced tea while she waited for her food. After a few minutes—that matter of impatience again—Jamie got up and strolled around the near-empty restaurant. She stopped and stared at the wall next to the kitchen door.
“So cool, right?” the other lone patron said. “All those photos are pictures of old St. Dennis, the buildings, the people.” The woman got up and walked over, then pointed to a photo of a lighthouse. “That used to stand down near the end of Bay View Road. Got blown over in a storm. The stone base is still there, but the rest of it is gone. The lens from the lighthouse was saved. It’s in the carriage house at the historical society.” She pointed to a couple in full wedding garb. The bride wore a long white mantilla over her dark hair. “This is my husband’s aunt Gloria and uncle Frank on their wedding day. And over there”—she reached past Jamie—“is my husband as a baby on his grandparents’ porch.” Smiling, she turned to Jamie. “I think it’s the most clever thing ever, this photo wall. People from all over town brought in vintage photos so they could be copied and framed and displayed.”
“So you’re from St. Dennis?” Jamie asked.
“No, I’m from Baltimore. My husband’s from St. Dennis.”
“You live here now?”
The woman shook her head. “Ballard. I just come here because Sophie makes the best crab cakes on the Eastern Shore.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m a big celebrity watcher. Dallas MacGregor opened that film studio down the road, and she eats here all the time, so you never know who you’re going to see here.” She lowered her voice. “Last week Laura Fielding sat right at the table I’m sitting at now.”
“Wow,” Jamie said because she knew she was expected to be impressed. She’d heard the name but couldn’t place a face.
“I know, right?” The woman nodded. “Plus, the owner—that’s Sophie Enright—makes everything from scratch. Which is why the menu is so limited.”
Jamie heard little after “Sophie Enright.” Surely a relation to Curtis. She remembered calling the law office and the receptionist asking if another attorney could help her, saying there were other Enrights, but she honestly couldn’t remember the first names. So she asked, just in case the chatty customer knew. “Sophie Enright. Name’s familiar. Is she related to the lawyers?”
“She’s one of them. She and her brother, Jesse, took over when their grandfather retired and their uncle moved to Florida.” The woman lowered her voice to a whisper. “Her father—Sophie’s father—was the black sheep of the family. Disbarred lawyer. Married like a dozen times. My in-laws know the family. They’ve lived here for, like, forever.”
The waitress came out of the kitchen and glanced at the two women. “Angie, I have your check ready.”
“Oh, great.” Jamie’s new friend held her hand out for the check. “Nice talking to you,” she told Jamie, who turned her attention back to the wall of photos. She studied the faces, thinking she could be looking at an ancestor she’d never known and couldn’t recognize. When the waitress brought her order, she returned to her table. “Thanks,” Jamie told her.
“You’re welcome.” The waitress started to walk away, then turned back and whispered, “I think it was only four.”
“Four what?” a puzzled Jamie asked.
“Four times that Sophie’s father was married.”
“Oh.” Jamie smiled. “Not that I was wondering.”
The waitress smiled and went into the kitchen.
The crab cake lived up to its reputation, and the salad was fresh and the dressing delicious. Everything was so tasty that Jamie could not resist the dessert special: lemon merengue pie.
“What do you think?” the waitress asked after Jamie had taken her first bite.
“I think I might be back for breakfast if this is on the menu,” Jamie told her.
“I doubt there will be any left by then—it’s the owner’s fiancé’s favorite. But stop back any day. There’s always something delectable on the menu.”
“I will definitely do that. Everything was amazing.”
“I’ll pass that on to the kitchen.”
Jamie finished her lunch, paid the check, and walked into the hot June sun. On her way back into the center of town, she debated what to do next. She’d done her research for the day, sampled one of the restaurants on her list of places to go, and thought she should give herself the afternoon off to do something fun. After all, this was her vacation.
The light at Charles Street and Kelly’s Point Road was red, and being the fourth car in line gave her a moment to look around a
t the shops lining Charles. That was all it took for her to make her decision. She made a left onto Cherry Street and parked the car, then walked back to the main street. The front window of Bling showcased summer fashions, and the sundress on the mannequin screamed Jamie’s name. She stood out front, admiring the pretty white dress, before going into the shop.
“Hi,” the woman behind the counter greeted her. “Can I help you?”
“I need to try on that sundress in the window,” Jamie replied.
“The white one with the little red cherries?” the woman asked.
Jamie nodded.
“It’s darling, isn’t it? What size do you need?”
Jamie told her, and the woman went to a rack and pulled out the size and handed it to her. “The dressing rooms are in the back, but I think they’re both occupied.”
“I don’t mind waiting. I can browse.”
“Please. Be my guest.”
Jamie’s browsing led her to a pair of sandals and a bag she couldn’t resist. She took both to the counter and handed them to the woman and asked her to hold them.
“Of course,” the woman said. “Those sandals are too cute with the dress. You really want to try them on together.”
Jamie reached for them just as a young girl stepped out from the back of the store. “Vanessa,” the girl called to the shopkeeper. “What do you think?” The girl twirled around twice, the pale pink dress swirling around her tanned legs.
“I love it. You look adorable,” Vanessa told her. “It’s perfect on you.” She turned to Jamie. “Agreed? Isn’t it darling on her?”
“Absolutely.” Jamie smiled at the girl, who smiled back. Was there something familiar about her? “I’m guessing you’re . . . what . . . seventeen?”
“I’ll be sixteen soon.” The girl grinned. What teenage girl didn’t like to look older than she was?
“The color is perfect on you, and the dress is totally age-appropriate. Not revealing but still . . .”
“Just the tiniest bit sexy,” Vanessa whispered. “Just the teeniest, tiniest bit.”
“Oh my God, don’t let my father hear you say that.” The girl rolled her eyes, and Jamie recalled where she’d seen her: speaking to the rude but hot guy at the inn.
Vanessa laughed out loud. “I can take care of your father.”
“I really want it, but since it’s over my budget, I have to come back with my dad and have him okay it.” Another roll of the eyes. “You’d think I was twelve or something.”
“I’ll be more than happy to hold it for you, Diana. You tell your dad I have it tucked away for you.”
“Thanks, Vanessa. You’re the best.”
Vanessa smiled and watched the girl return to the dressing room. When she came back out a few minutes later, she handed the dress to Vanessa. “I’ll see how soon I can get my dad to come in.”
“You tell him I said not to drag his feet. The party is in four weeks, and everything fancy I have is flying out the door.”
“I’ll let him know. Thanks again, Ness.”
“Anytime, sweetie.” Vanessa hung the dress on a hanger and took it to the back of the store, telling Jamie, “You can use the dressing room on the right now.”
Jamie tried on the dress and was surprised to find it just enough too small that she couldn’t zip it. She took it off, dressed, and returned to the front of the store. “I’m afraid I need the next size up,” she told Vanessa. “Funny how a few pounds here and a few pounds there . . .”
“Tell me about it.” Vanessa took the dress. “I’m afraid this is the only one I have right now. I’m expecting a shipment really soon, though, maybe even tomorrow. If you’re going to be in town . . .”
“I am. I can stop back.”
“Staying locally?”
“The Inn at Sinclair’s Point.”
“The best. If you give me a number, I can call or send a text when it comes in.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Vanessa handed Jamie a slip of paper, and Jamie wrote down her information.
“In the meantime, I am taking the sandals and the bag,” Jamie told her.
“Terrific. The bag is brand-new, and I could only get three of them. I sold one this morning.” She reached for Jamie’s credit card. “I put the third one aside for my best friend’s birthday. I can’t wait to give it to her.”
“She’s going to love it.” Jamie paid for her purchases and left the shop. She paused out front and debated her options. Across the street was Cuppachino, where she was sure she’d get iced coffee that would take the edge off the heat. But next door to Bling was Book ’Em, and books always trumped everything else. It had occurred to her that a book signing in St. Dennis might bring out a lot of the locals. Maybe even the local she was here to find.
The window of the bookstore displayed a wide variety of reading options, from children’s books to bestselling novels to Jamie’s own latest work: The Honest Relationship. Her stomach turned at the thought of facing a group of her readers after discovering what she had about her own life. She pushed the thought from her mind. Time enough to angst over that.
She went inside, appreciating the cool of the air-conditioning as well as the placement of the book near the front of the store. Another display near the cash register held a copy of each of her other titles. The young cashier—could she have been over twenty?—was busy with customers, so Jamie wandered around the store, picking up a few titles she’d read about, or books written by authors she’d met in her travels. When she realized she had a stack and that the cashier was free, she went to the counter and put down her selections.
“Is the owner around?” Jamie asked the girl.
“She’s out for a while,” the girl told her. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I wanted to talk to her about a book signing.” Jamie opened her wallet for her credit card.
The girl frowned. “I don’t think there are any book signings scheduled until the guy who wrote the kids’—I mean, the children’s—book about the rabbits on the submarine. That’s in July.” She handed Jamie a flyer.
“Thanks. Do you know when the owner will be back?”
“Sometime this afternoon. She didn’t really say. But I’m only here till five, so I hope it’s by then.” She proceeded to ring up Jamie’s purchases.
Jamie signed the slip for her books and took the bag, along with the one from Bling, and walked outside. She paused on the sidewalk. She really wanted ice cream, and she knew from her Internet reading that One Scoop or Two was at the end of Kelly’s Point Road. But it was too hot for a walk, so she retrieved her car and drove the distance. She parked in the crowded municipal lot and still had a ways to walk to get to her destination. By the time she arrived at the shop, she was sweating. A bell rang over the door as she opened it, and she stepped inside to find several small round tables and chairs, all occupied, and one glass-fronted freezer case in which eight flavors were displayed. There were six customers ahead of her, so Jamie joined the line and read the day’s specials on the blackboard that hung behind the counter. When she finally drew close enough to the freezer to see the containers, Jamie scanned the offerings, unable to choose. Every flavor sounded delicious, from Cool Mint Jubilee to Berry Bliss to Chocolate Thunder Road. She was still debating with herself when she realized it was her turn to give her order.
“Ummm. Maybe—”
“Hey, you’re the lady from Bling.”
Jamie looked up to see the girl who’d been trying on dresses before her. “And you’re the girl who looked so cute in that darling pink dress.” Jamie smiled at her.
“I sure hope my dad thinks so. He can be such a pain sometimes.”
“I think it’s in their job description,” Jamie said, wondering why it was all about the dad. Where was the girl’s mother?
“Totally.” T
he girl nodded. “So what can I get for you?”
“Maybe a scoop of Cool Mint Jubilee,” Jamie said, then immediately changed her mind. “Or maybe the chocolate.”
“How ’bout a scoop of each?” the girl suggested.
“I already had pie today, so I should go easy this time around. Maybe just the mint.”
“Sure thing. Cone or dish?”
“A dish, please.”
“I’ll meet you at the cash register,” the girl said as she grabbed a dish from behind the counter. She was at the register in a flash, and Jamie traded a few bills for her ice cream.
“Good luck with your dad,” Jamie told her as she tucked her wallet back into her bag. “I hope you get your dress.”
“Thanks,” the girl said before going on to the next customer. “I hope so, too.”
Jamie strolled along the wooden boardwalk that ran along the bay from the ice cream shop to the marina. There were benches here and there, and when she found one shaded by a maple tree, she sat and watched the sailboats out on the bay. In the distance, a fast-moving motorboat skimmed the water, heading south and leaving a rolling wake behind. She polished off the ice cream and tried to remember the last time she’d eaten so much in so short a period of time. “It’s my vacation, damn it,” she grumbled to herself as she headed back to the car. “If you can’t eat crab cakes and ice cream on your vacation, when can you?”
And lemon merengue pie, she reminded herself when she got to the car. “Okay, and pie,” she muttered as she opened the car door. “So I’ll skip dessert tonight.”
She returned to the inn and went straight to her room, bags in tow. It had been a good day, in her estimation—any day that found her crossing off a few things on her to-do list and buying some pretty things and a few good books was a good day in her book. Not to mention superb ice cream and that incredible pie.
A nap would be nice, she thought as she slipped off her sandals. Later, she’d look over her notes from the day, but right now she wanted nothing more than to stretch out on that sofa and close her eyes. She opened the bag from Book ’Em and spread her new books out on the table. “Here’s one you might enjoy,” she said, addressing the portrait of the old sea captain. “A Comprehensive History of Maryland’s Eastern Shore. If you find a mention of yourself, mark the page, okay? I’ll just be catching a little nap here.” She rested back against a throw pillow, her eyes closing, and added, “I sure hope you don’t read out loud . . .”
That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Page 8
