“I guess we’ll find out.”
“The house is just magnificent.” Jamie paused on the sidewalk and nodded in the direction of the house that stood off to their left. “Nice that it was donated to the town. Nicer still that it’s being used for the benefit of the community.”
“And nice for my brother,” Dan said, “because it brought the love of his life to St. Dennis. Never thought Ford would settle down, but I guess miracles do happen.”
There was a line to get into the carriage house, which served as the exhibition site. Jamie assumed that the space was very small, since it seemed that so many people had to exit before an equal number of people could enter. Once inside, however, she found that while space was limited, it was far from small. She and Dan followed the direction of the framed paintings from one wall to the next.
“Whoever this artist is,” Jamie said, leaning closer to read the name on the wall, “this Shirley Hinson, she’s done some lovely work.”
“Shirley Hinson Wyler. Steffie’s mother,” he told her. “Steffie owns Scoop.”
“Ah, the ice cream maker.”
Dan nodded and turned her toward the far wall. “Stef’s over there, with her mother and her twins.”
Jamie craned her neck to see the babies, who were being held, one by a tall dark-haired man and the other by a woman with the palest blond hair. When the woman turned slightly to one side, Jamie recognized her profile. “Oh my God, that’s Dallas MacGregor.” She grabbed Dan’s arm.
“Sure. She’s Stef’s sister-in-law.”
“Be still my heart.” Jamie’s fingers fluttered at her chest. “I’ve seen every movie she’s made.” She tried not to stare. “Who’s the guy?”
“Steffie’s husband, Wade. Dallas’s brother,” he told her. “He’s my brother-in-law’s partner in MadMac Brews. Mad for Clay Madison, Mac for Wade MacGregor.”
“And the older woman there . . . the one in the beaded caftan.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Is that . . . Beryl Townsend?”
“Right. Dallas and Wade’s great-aunt.”
“She’s a legend.” Jamie couldn’t keep from staring. “An absolute legend. One of the biggest stars ever. We were looking at a picture of her this afternoon. Diana found it in one of the old newspapers.”
“Diana was in the office with you and Mom today?”
“Yes, she was a big help.” Jamie smiled. “And she really seemed to enjoy going through the papers once she got into it. She got a kick out of seeing pictures of your mother when she was young; an uncle; and some other members of your family that I don’t remember.”
“What about you?” he asked casually. “Any relatives of yours?”
“I told you, I don’t have family here.”
A passing server offered hors d’oeuvres, and Jamie took advantage of the distraction to select a pastry filled with something that smelled delicious. “Oh, yum.” She took a bite, ignoring the look Dan had given her. Clearly, he wasn’t buying her story, but she wasn’t sure why and wasn’t about to ask. Best to ignore it completely, which she did. “I don’t know what that was, but I want another.”
She caught the eye of the server, and when he arrived, he suggested they each take several of the small bites. “The caterer is getting backed up in the kitchen, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back out with something.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Jamie said. She placed several bits of puff pastry on a napkin. Dan followed suit, and they nibbled as they strolled through the gallery.
When they reached the reception area where the artist stood, Dan introduced Jamie. “Shirley Hinson—Shirley Wyler—meet Jamie Valentine,” he said.
The artist regarded Jamie for a moment, then smiled. “You’re J. L. Valentine. I saw your picture in the window at Book ’Em. I plan on coming to your signing.”
“Thank you. I’ll be happy to sign a book for you. I’m an instant fan of your work. I love watercolors, and I love the garden scenes you’ve displayed here. Are any for sale?”
“They all are, except for the large water lilies.” Shirley put a hand over her heart. “J. L. Valentine likes my work.”
“Jamie Valentine loves your work,” Jamie corrected.
“Jamie, this is my daughter, Steffie, her husband, Wade, and my grand-darlings.” Shirley made the introductions.
“You’re the ice cream maker.” Jamie shook Steffie’s hand. “I’ve been haunting your shop since I arrived in St. Dennis, and I will be making a stop there before I go back to the inn tonight.”
“Oh, wow. A famous writer likes my ice cream.” Steffie beamed.
Wade and Dan stepped off to the side to chat with Ford and another man whom Jamie didn’t recognize.
“From the reviews I’ve read online, I’d say everyone loves your ice cream. It’s certainly the best I’ve ever had,” Jamie told her.
“Stef, you’ll have to name an ice cream flavor for Jamie,” her mother told her. “Something like Honestly Fudge.”
“A great idea. I’ll do it.” Steffie grinned. “What’s your favorite, Jamie?”
“Chocolate, anything with mint, berries, nuts, just about everything, I think. But you don’t have to—”
“It’s a great idea. I’ll see if I can come up with something in time for your book signing.”
“That’s really nice of you.” Then, to deflect the attention from herself, Jamie asked, “Now, who are these two cherubs?”
“This would be Miss Daisy Wyler MacGregor and Master Ned Callahan MacGregor. Meet Miss Jamie.” Steffie lowered her voice and whispered to the babies, “She’s famous.”
“They’re adorable, but I’m hardly the household name that these ladies are.” Jamie nodded in the direction of Dallas and Berry. Stef made the introductions, and Jamie gushed appropriately.
Carly joined the group, clearly pleased to see three high-profile ladies in attendance. “We’ll be moving to the mansion in about an hour for a small invitation-only after-party. I hope you’ll all be able to stay.”
“I thought that’s what this was supposed to be,” Shirley said.
“It started out that way, but because all the artists are local, word got around. The next thing I knew, I was tripling the number of hors d’oeuvres and bottles of wine.” She tapped Wade on the back. “And beer. Can’t have a party in St. Dennis without a little MadMac.”
“I’d love to, but I have to get these little ones to bed,” Steffie said, clearly disappointed.
“I’ll take them back,” Wade offered.
While they discussed the logistics, Jamie complimented Carly on the exhibit’s success.
“Shirley’s work is exceptional, isn’t it? I was blown away when she brought in a few pieces to see if I’d consider them for the exhibit.” Carly leaned closer to Jamie and whispered, “I’m taking her show to New York next month, though she doesn’t know it yet. Don’t spill the beans.”
“My lips are sealed,” Jamie promised.
“You’ll stay, won’t you, for the reception?” Carly asked.
“I’d like to, yes. Thank you. I would.” Jamie still hadn’t met Curtis Enright, and while she’d been sure he would attend, she didn’t see anyone who looked old enough to be the elderly attorney.
Dan stepped back into the conversation and asked Carly, “Is Mom here yet?”
“She’s been here, gone through the exhibit, chatted with everyone, and left. She and Ford are already over at the reception. Feel free to join them,” Carly said.
“Thanks. Maybe we’ll just see what’s on that far wall first.” Dan pointed to one area they’d missed.
“I’ll see you later.” Carly turned back to Steffie and her family to assure them that the babies were welcome. “After all, we are honoring their grandmother’s work tonight.” Shirley, clearly unaccustomed to the spotlight, blushed.
“I ca
n’t get over the crowd here,” Jamie said as she and Dan walked next door to the mansion, following a brick path.
“Shirley’s well known and well liked,” he told her. “I think most of the crowd is here to support her. One of the benefits of small-town living is having the whole town back your efforts.”
The Enright mansion lived up to its website hype. It was sprawling and spacious and elegantly furnished. The reception was in a room at the back of the house on the first floor, in what must have been a ballroom at one time.
“Can you imagine just giving this place away?” Dan shook his head.
“No, frankly, I cannot. I wonder what prompted Mr. Enright’s philanthropy,” Jamie replied.
“I’m not so sure it was philanthropy as much as a desire to control the property’s future,” he said. “At least that’s what my mother suspects. None of his grandchildren wanted it, and his son—the one he speaks to, anyway—is living in Florida.”
“The one he speaks to?” Jamie raised an eyebrow. “That would imply there’s a son he doesn’t speak to.” She recalled the comment made by the woman in Blossoms. “Oh, wait. I heard something about a black sheep . . .”
“Curtis’s younger son—father of Jesse and Sophie, I don’t know if you’ve met either of them—is the family black sheep. They’ve been estranged for, I don’t know, twenty, thirty years or more.”
“What’s his problem?”
“Just general ass-hattery, I guess. Always in trouble as a kid and apparently never did clean up his act. Married three . . . no, maybe it’s four times. Kids for every marriage, never bothers with them.”
“Sounds like a charming fellow.”
“Speaking of charming fellows, there’s the old man himself.” Dan nodded in the direction of an elderly man with white hair holding an ebony cane and chatting with Grace. “Here, let me introduce you.”
Jamie’s heart began to pound again as they approached the small group: Grace, Ford, several women Jamie didn’t recognize, and in the middle of them all, Curtis Enright.
Dan made the introductions. “Mr. Enright, this is a friend of ours, Jamie Valentine.”
Jamie watched the old man’s face as her name registered. “Jamie . . .” he said.
“Yes. Jamie Valentine. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Enright.”
“Jamie is actually J. L. Valentine, the writer. Isn’t it exciting that she’s chosen St. Dennis for her vacation?” Grace said.
“Yes. Exciting.” The unsmiling man seemed to step back from the others.
“She’s been staying at the inn, and she’s been so helpful to me with my archiving project.” Grace went on about her desire to put all the back issues of the paper in chronological order, and to eventually display certain issues, but Jamie only half heard what was being said. Curtis Enright’s eyes burned into hers.
“It really is nice to meet you, Mr. Enright,” Jamie said very softly. She stepped away from the group and pretended to admire a floral arrangement on the mantel.
“I know what you’re up to,” the old man came up behind her and whispered in her ear. “I wish you’d leave this thing alone and go back where you came from.”
“I can’t do that, sir.” Jamie turned to face him. “At least not yet.”
“You’re wasting your time here,” he continued. “No one is going to tell you what you want to know.”
“I don’t expect anyone to ‘tell’ me,” she said. “But I do expect to know more when I leave than when I got here.”
“Your parents must be turning over in their graves,” he said stiffly. “Poor Herb . . . if he were alive today . . .”
“If he were alive today, this trip wouldn’t have been necessary. If he were alive, I believe he’d have told me the truth before now. But since he did not, I have to find out on my own. And I will find out, Mr. Enright.” She stared at him for a long moment, then added, “I will.”
“God help us all,” he muttered, and walked away.
Jamie watched him go, then realized that the exchange had been witnessed by at least one person. Dan was openly staring at her, his eyes questioning. She wondered what, if anything, he’d heard.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Dan and Grace both made it a point to introduce her to everyone who crossed their path, so that by the time the evening was over, Jamie figured she’d met most of the people in attendance.
“I’m getting ready to leave if you are,” Dan told her as the crowd began to thin.
“I am, thank you. I appreciate the ride.”
Jamie made small talk as they walked to the car, hoping to avoid any questions he might be thinking about asking, particularly about Curtis Enright. She kept it up, chatting about the evening, Carly’s successful showing, Shirley Hinson Wyler’s talent, the history of the Enright property. Once seated in the car, Dan asked, “Want to stop somewhere for a bite?”
“Truthfully, I ate so many of those little puffy things, and so many shrimp and crab claws, I don’t think I could deal with anything else. Oh, but I did tell Diana I’d stop at Scoop on my way home from the gallery.”
“Okay. Scoop it is.” He turned the key in the ignition and headed for the center of town. “They’ll be closing soon. I can give her a ride home.”
He parked the Jeep in the municipal lot, and they strolled toward the dock and the ice cream shop. They were almost to the door when Dan’s phone buzzed.
“Excuse me for a second,” he said as he read the text. “Damn.” He dialed a number, and Jamie walked over to a nearby bench and sat.
The call lasted for several minutes, and when he finished, he joined Jamie on the bench. “I’m sorry. I really am, but . . .”
“I know.” She forced a smile. Couldn’t he ditch that darned phone for ten minutes? “Something going on at the inn?”
“It can wait.”
“Really?”
“At least until we get our ice cream and head back.” He stood with his hands in his pockets.
They got as far as the door to Scoop when his phone buzzed again. Jamie asked, “Do you ever think of turning that thing off?”
“What?” He looked puzzled.
“Your phone.”
He read the text while he opened the door for her and she stepped inside. “What if something happened?” he asked as they approached the counter.
“Something like what?”
“Something that had to be taken care of.”
“You do have employees, right?”
He ignored her comment and asked, “What are you in the mood for?”
“I think I’ll try the Peachy Mango Salsa,” she said. “One scoop in a dish.”
He’d turned to place their order when his daughter came up to the counter from the back room. “Dad. Hi. I thought you were at the gallery thing with Gramma.” Diana looked surprised to see him. Her eyes darted to a table at one side of the room, where three boys and one girl sat talking quietly.
“We were. And now we’re here.” He glanced at his watch. “You must be almost done. We can wait and give you a ride home.”
“No. I mean, I’m going to Paige’s, remember? We talked about it yesterday.” Diana’s voice lowered, and she moved to the left of the counter. Paige stepped up to the counter to take Jamie’s order.
“How are you getting there?” Dan asked Diana.
“Ummm, I think Dallas is going to pick us up on her way back to the house.”
“You think?” he asked, clearly not buying it.
It took Jamie about thirty seconds to read the situation. It took all her willpower not to tell Dan to stop embarrassing his daughter. The group in the corner was listening to every word. Finally, one of the boys got up and walked to the counter. “Mr. Sinclair?” he said, his hand outstretched.
Dan turned and nodded.
“I’m Kevin Stil
ler. I’m a classmate of Diana’s. It’s good to meet you.”
Clearly puzzled, Dan reacted on autopilot and took the hand that the boy offered. Diana looked trapped.
None of your business, Jamie told herself. Keep your mouth . . . “And I’m Jamie,” she told the boy. “I’m a friend of Mr. Sinclair’s. It’s nice to meet you, Kevin.” Taken off guard, the boy offered a smile and a hand, which she took. “Are you all together?” Jamie gestured toward the other two boys and the girl who remained at the table.
“Um . . . yes.” Kevin nodded.
On their way in, she’d noticed a car parked close to the back of the shop. “Is that your car out back, the blue SUV?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Jamie turned to Dan. “I’ll bet Kevin wouldn’t mind dropping Diana and Paige off.”
“I’d be happy to do that, sure.”
Jamie smiled at Dan, who looked stricken. “Diana isn’t old enough to go out in cars,” he said pointedly.
“Understandable,” Jamie said, making sure she appeared to agree. “But does that apply to just accepting a ride home?” She turned to Paige. “Would your parents object?”
“Well, no. Dallas said if she couldn’t get here by ten, it would be okay if we got a ride with Kevin, as long as we were all together.”
By “all,” Jamie assumed she meant the three at the corner table, too. She leaned against the counter. “Is that okay with you, Dan, since it’s okay with Dallas?”
“I guess.” It was Dan’s turn to look trapped, and he was obviously none too happy about it. He turned to Kevin. “Straight to Paige’s house, right?”
“Oh, yes, sir.” Kevin nodded. “Thank you. I’m a good driver, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I sure hope so.” Dan started toward the door.
“Dan.” Jamie waved a hand in front of his face. “You didn’t place an order.”
“Oh. Right.” He turned back to the counter. “I’ll have . . . whatever it is that Jamie is having.”
“Two dishes of Peachy Mango Salsa coming up.” Paige grinned.
Dan met Diana at the cash register and paid while Paige scooped their ice cream and handed over their orders.
That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Page 17
