“Well, it does give a little snapshot of who lived here and what was going on back then,” Jamie said casually.
“Oh, and this one: ‘Mr. Peter Coughlin is the proud owner of a new Chevrolet coupe. The car—a two-toned cream and brown beauty—was delivered by the dealer, Calvin Espy, and brought all the way from Baltimore to St. Dennis. Mr. Coughlin has been seen driving his wife and children to the market and to school, respectively.’ ” He turned to Jamie. “Now, I ask you, is this exciting real-life drama or what?”
“You best stop making fun of my newspaper, Daniel Sinclair, or you will be wishing you had.” Grace glared at her son.
“Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t really poking fun as much as . . .” He paused.
“As much as what?” Grace was waiting.
“As much as teasing Jamie about her interest in days gone by, St. Dennis–style.”
“Same as any place else, I imagine.” Grace’s tone was still a tad frosty.
“You never know what you might learn.” Jamie maintained her casual stance.
“Guess that depends on what you’re looking for.”
“Don’t you have a wedding to attend to?” Grace fixed a stare on her son.
“I do.” He smiled at his mother. “Get it? Wedding? I do?”
Grace rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. “Please.”
Dan grinned, gave Jamie one last look, then closed the door behind him.
“Sometimes that boy of mine gives me a headache,” Grace muttered.
I feel your pain, Jamie could have told her. There was something in the way Dan had been looking at her, as if he knew her decision to help Grace was based less on her desire to help and more on something else. Though he might have his suspicions, there was no way he could know the truth of the matter.
But hadn’t the conversation last night sounded like an interrogation? Was it her imagination, or had he seemed to be fishing for something? She wished she’d said flat-out that she’d been to the historical society, because after she’d denied knowing about it, he’d brought it up again, as if he knew. But it had caught her off guard, and her first instinct had been to shrug off his interest.
It was clear to her that she’d done nothing but fan any interest he might have had.
. . . teasing Jamie about her interest in days gone by, St. Dennis–style.
. . . depends on what you’re looking for.
How could he possibly know?
He doesn’t, she told herself. He just thinks he’s clever, that’s all. He thought she’d been a little shady in her response to some of his questions about where she’d been and what she’d been doing since she arrived in St. Dennis. Best to ignore him. Let him have his suspicions, but don’t feed in to them.
“. . . wrap up here for the day and pick up in the morning where we left off.” Grace tucked her glasses into their case and put them into her bag. “I do want to be able to peek into the ballroom later to catch a glimpse of tonight’s bride. Lucy’s been telling me all week that this wedding is going to be spectacular.”
“What time would you want to start tomorrow?” Jamie asked.
“Oh, please don’t feel that you have to come back.”
“I want to. I think it’s fascinating. I love looking at the pictures of old St. Dennis and seeing what folks were up to back then.”
“It is interesting, isn’t it?” Grace wheeled out from behind her desk. “Now, only if you’re sure . . .”
“I’m sure.”
“In that case, I usually have breakfast early—before seven—so I should be here around seven-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.” Jamie followed Grace out of the office, pausing at the door to turn off the lights. At the stairwell, Grace went to the dining room, and Jamie climbed the steps to the second floor. When she got to her room, she went straight to the desk and opened the laptop and read through the names of graduates to refresh her memory. She was halfway through the list when she recognized several of the names—Nita Etheridge must be Nita Perry. The first name wasn’t that common, and Perry would be her married name. Eleanor Borden—that could be Eleanor Cash who owns the flower shop. Barbara Noonan—the owner of the bookstore—either never married or kept her maiden name. Jamie had also met Lisa, a waitress, and Joanna, the assistant librarian, but neither name was on the list, so either they hadn’t lived here then or weren’t in the 1979 or 1980 graduating class.
And there were so many names of women Jamie hadn’t met yet. Discouraged, she closed the laptop. Whatever had made her think that seeking would translate into finding? She was no closer to identifying her birth mother now than she had been when she was in Caryville.
Patience.
She could almost hear her father whisper in her ear, and the thought made her smile. She reminded herself that she’d been in St. Dennis only a few days, and in that time she had managed to make friends with the one person in town who might lead her to the truth. Surely a truth that had been hidden for thirty-six years would not be found out over so short a period of time.
Patience.
She sighed and wished she’d been blessed with the virtue.
“. . . SO I TOLD Tom—he’s the Realtor I think we should list the house with when we’re ready—I said that we decided to hold off putting the house on the market. He thought we were missing a good opportunity to sell because sales are high right now, but I said no, we wanted to wait a bit.” The words poured out of Sis’s mouth almost the minute Jamie answered the phone. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about waiting . . .”
“No, I’m not quite ready.”
“That’s perfectly fine, honey. I told him I’d check with you and get back to him.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sis.”
“Now, did you make any decision on that lawn furniture we found in the garage?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” Jamie told her.
“That’s okay. It’s been sitting in there for the past, I don’t know, six, seven years now. A little longer isn’t going to hurt. Lainey picked it up at a house sale and thought she’d repaint it and get new cushions for it. You know how she loved doing that sort of thing.”
“Right.”
“Jamie?” Sis asked tentatively. “Is everything all right there?”
“Things are fine.”
“You sound like you’re thinking.”
Jamie laughed. “You say it as if it’s a bad thing.”
“You know what I mean. Thinking about . . . things.”
“You mean my birth mother.”
“Well, yes. I know you’re tied up in knots over that whole business.”
“That ‘whole business’ is my life, Aunt Sis,” Jamie reminded her.
“Of course it is. I just worry that things aren’t going to go well for you, and you’ll come home even more confused and sad than when you went down there.”
“I’m still confused and sad. I probably always will be, to some extent. I’ll never have the opportunity to talk to Mom about how she felt and how I felt. That’s a conversation that needed to be had, and it never will be.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Not your fault, Aunt Sis.”
“Maybe if I’d nagged Lainey, if I’d—”
Jamie snorted. “You know that nagging was never effective where Mom was concerned. And there’s nothing you could have done. She did what she wanted to do, in this and everything else in her life. I don’t want you to stress over this anymore. I will make my peace with the situation regardless of what happens here in St. Dennis. It may take a while,” she acknowledged, “but I will make peace with it all.”
“I believe you will, Jamie. Speaking of St. Dennis, what is happening there?”
“I’ve met a number of women who are around the right age, but I can’t say I met anyone who reminds me of myself
.”
“Maybe she’s not there,” Sis said softly. “Maybe she left town and hasn’t come back.”
“There’s that possibility, but little things the lawyer said made me think she might still be around.”
“Maybe you’ve already met her and didn’t know it.”
“I guess that’s possible, but you’d think we’d know each other, wouldn’t you?”
“You were three days old when you were handed over to Lainey and Herb, so there’s no way you’d recognize each other. I don’t know that I believe you’d instinctively know. I think that’s the romanticized version of how those things go.”
“Maybe.” Jamie sighed. “I guess I thought I’d look enough like someone in her family that she’d wonder . . . Oh, I don’t know what I thought.”
“I wish you luck, babe. I really do.” It was Sis’s turn to sigh. “Now tell me how you’re spending your time.”
“Funny you should ask. I’ve met this remarkable woman—Grace Sinclair is her name, she’s the mother of the guy who runs the inn. She’s also the owner of the newspaper that’s been published in St. Dennis for . . . I don’t know exactly how many years, but I would guess it’s close to one hundred. It’s been in her family since it was founded. She’s just started this project, archiving all the old issues because they’re in no order whatsoever. The paper has a social column that reported on all the local events from week to week, like who got married and who died.”
“We used to call that the gossip column here in Caryville. We had the old Banner that came out once a week.”
“It’s like that, yes. Anyway, I offered to help Grace go through the old newspapers, and she’s letting me work on the project with her. It’s interesting and it’s fun, actually.”
“You’re spending your vacation helping someone organize a collection of old newspapers? Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
“Oh, but it is. I really think that somewhere in those stacks, I’m going to find a clue to my birth mother’s identity.”
“How do you suppose that’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know. It’s my only option right now, but I think it’s going to lead me in the right direction.”
“I suppose something could come of that,” Sis said. “By the way, have you gone to see the attorney yet?”
“You mean Curtis Enright? No. I haven’t decided how best to approach him. Knowing he doesn’t want to be involved with me, I don’t want to alienate him by ringing his doorbell. I’m sure he’ll be easy enough to find.”
Sis changed the subject, chatting on about how her friend Kathleen’s son Andrew was back in town and how she, Kathleen, and Lainey had always thought that Andrew and Jamie were perfect for each other. Jamie strolled to the balcony and watched some little ones line up for the sliding board on the playground, tossing out the occasional “ah-huh” or “hmmm.”
Directly below her balcony, a Jeep drove up and parked at an awkward angle to the building. Jamie watched as Dan got out and walked to the edge of the parking lot, where he was joined by his sister, who was wearing a navy blue chiffon dress that floated around her knees. They stood and talked for a minute before he took her arm and helped her navigate the stone-filled parking lot in her mile-high heels. Jamie couldn’t deny that he definitely did justice to a tux, from what she could see. Damn.
“Aunt Sis, I’m going to run. I want to get down to the dining room while they’re still serving. I’ll give you a call in a few days and let you know if I learn anything. Love you.”
She disconnected the call and went into the bathroom, where she took a quick shower and blow-dried her hair. It was Friday night, and she wasn’t sure how dressed up other guests got on the weekend. Through the window, she could hear what she assumed was the wedding band tuning up, and the music made her feel like dancing. She pulled a dress from the closet—a basic tank style in teal—and draped a light scarf around her neck. She searched through the few pieces of jewelry she’d brought and snapped wide hoops of hammered silver into her ears. She slipped her bag over her arm and her feet into sandals and headed downstairs.
The dining room wasn’t as crowded as she’d thought it might be, so she was able to get a table near the windows, where she watched the children on the playground while she drank a glass of wine. She was starving, so she ordered a steak and a salad and a second glass of wine, then tiramisu and coffee to finish off the meal.
Grace was right, Jamie thought as she strolled back into the lobby. The chef here is amazing. Everything she’d ordered had been delicious, but she felt she needed to walk it off. She went outside and down to the edge of the bay and watched geese land feet-first, honking loudly, by the last light of day. She followed the paver path around the inn to the front of the building, hoping to sit for a while in one of the rocking chairs, but was disappointed to find that other guests had the same idea. She went in through the front door and paused in the foyer.
Music was coming from behind a pair of double doors on the right. The wedding Dan and Grace had spoken of—the one he’d donned a tux for—must be behind those doors, she thought.What harm would there be if she took a quick peek? Didn’t Grace mention that Lucy had said it would be spectacular? What did a spectacular wedding look like, anyway?
Jamie couldn’t resist the opportunity to find out.
She opened the door just a sliver, enough to slip through. Some of the guests were seated and some were milling around the bar; despite the music, the dance floor was empty. Though Jamie didn’t know what the ballroom looked like on an average day, tonight it looked like a lush summer garden. There were white birch trees in shiny silver pots and white twinkling lights everywhere. The tables were set with silvery cloths over white, and the centerpieces were silver vases overflowing with lavender and white flowers, some of which Jamie didn’t recognize. She stepped closer to the table nearest the door to get a better look. There were roses in both colors and some sort of silvery green vine that trailed onto the tabletops, but everything else looked exotic and unfamiliar. She had just leaned closer when she felt someone behind her. “May I see your invitation?”
She knew the voice. She opened her purse and peered inside, then patted her hips where pockets would be—if the dress had pockets—and shrugged. “I must have left it in my room,” she told Dan.
“Then I guess I have to ask you to leave,” Dan said solemnly.
“Not until I find out what those purply-silver things are. They sort of look like thistle.”
“That’s because they are thistle.”
“Trying to impress me with your horticultural knowledge?”
“Did it work?”
“Maybe.” She looked around the ballroom. “Your mother wasn’t kidding when she said this place would look spectacular.”
“That’s Lucy. She really is a wizard at putting these things together. I honestly don’t know where she gets her ideas from.”
As if on cue, Dan’s sister hurried over, looking flushed. “Dan, no one’s dancing,” she told him.
“It’s still early,” he told her. “Lucy, I don’t think you met Jamie. She’s—”
“J. L. Valentine. Mom told me. Thanks for helping her out with her project. She’s so excited to finally be getting through those old newspapers.”
“I’m enjoying it,” Jamie replied.
“Not to be rude, but Dan, no one is dancing, and Franklin—that’s the guy playing the piano—is threatening to stop playing.”
“What difference does it make to him who dances and who doesn’t? He gets paid whether people dance or not, right?”
“That’s not the point. At least it isn’t to him. He thinks it looks bad for the band, like no one likes what they’re playing.”
“What are they playing?” He frowned.
Lucy smacked him on the arm but tilted her head to listen. “I think that’s a really slowed-dow
n instrumental version of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You.’ ” She looked from Dan to Jamie and back. “Go dance.” She gave her brother a little shove. “You and Jamie. Go. Maybe others will follow.”
“Lucy . . .”
“Pleeeease, Danny?” Lucy put her hands together. “My favorite brother? Pleeeease . . .”
Dan covered his ears. “Lucy, don’t whine.” He took Jamie by the hand. “Will you? If only to make her stop? I hate it when she does that.”
Jamie laughed good-naturedly and followed Dan onto the dance floor. He put one arm around her and, with the other, held her hand. He pulled her close so that the top of her head was just under his chin. “I didn’t realize you were so tiny,” he said.
“I didn’t realize you were so tall,” she replied.
He hummed along with the music for a minute. “Lucy wasn’t kidding when she said this was a slowed-down version. Maybe that’s why no one else is dancing.”
“But someone else is,” she told him, and turned them around to face the opposite side of the dance floor, where another couple had begun to sway to the music. “See? Lucy was right. I guess no one likes to be the first on the dance floor.”
“Actually, it wasn’t bothering me.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “You?”
“Not really.”
“Good.” He pulled her close again, and they swayed to the music.
When the song ended, they continued to slow-dance for a moment longer before Dan dropped her hand and said, “Hey, thanks for helping to keep the peace.” He looked around the dance floor at the number of couples who had joined them, then looked down into her eyes. “Looks like that did the trick.”
That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Page 15
