The search is on, and Lord help me, I’m aiding and abetting. I know I should not deliberately turn the tide, so to speak—I know how far I can go. I just want to see this end, this heartache and uncertainty in those I care about. And make no mistake, I am starting to care for this lost child as I care for her mother. I hate being betwixt and between.
To complicate matters further, my boy is starting to care as well. No surprise there. I knew that Jamie was coming into our lives and would bring something important. I did not expect it to happen so soon, but if ever a man wore his heart on his sleeve, it’s my Dan.
But, oh dear. It appears that I’m not the only one who noticed. At the reception, I had this pointed out to me by Curtis Enright, of all people—by way of a warning. Yes, indeed, Curtis warned me about letting Dan get too close to Jamie. “She isn’t who she pretends to be,” he confided. “Nothing good can come of her being in St. Dennis.”
Well, little does he know that I know exactly why the girl has come here and what she’s looking for. Apparently, he does, too. Funny how Curtis sees this as something to be avoided at all costs. I know in my heart that when the truth is revealed, it will bring great joy. But right now no one knows what lies ahead.
No one but me, of course. Oh, and Alice, who seems to know more about this entire matter than she should. Then again, that’s always the way with Alice.
Grace
Chapter 15
BELOW Jamie’s balcony, someone dragged a kayak from the water’s edge to the boathouse, and even from this distance, Jamie could tell it was Ford. She thought about Dan’s comment about having less time to spend on the bay than Ford—specifically, less time to sail—because he’d been busy helping his father at the inn. It was no secret that Dan had been forced to take over the day-to-day operations at a young age, and while he was clearly very good at it and obviously loved the place, Jamie couldn’t help wondering if he would have done something else had he been given the choice.
What, she wondered, might that choice have been?
She pondered that while she took the steps—slowly—to the first floor, through the lobby, and to Grace’s office door.
“Come in,” Grace called when she saw Jamie in the doorway. “So how’s the sunburn today?”
“Much better, thank you. Dan gave me some aloe spray, and that helped a lot.”
“Good. And the sore muscles?”
“Much improved.”
“Great.”
“Grace, I wanted to thank you again for dragging everyone you knew to the signing yesterday.”
“There was no dragging involved. Everyone was happy to come and happy to buy your book.”
“I know you brought a lot of friends.”
“It was an event, and everyone should have been there.”
“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it.”
“As I appreciate your help with my project.” Grace wheeled back to her desk. “Speaking of which, let’s get started. I can hardly wait to see what we find today.”
“Me, too.” Jamie removed the lid from a nearby box. “Where’s Diana? Is she joining us today?”
“Lacrosse camp. First day. She couldn’t miss it. I told her it was okay, I had you to help me, so I wasn’t on my own.” Grace smiled.
At that moment, Ford came into the room, knocking on the door as he opened it.“Today’s issue of the St. Dennis Gazette, hot off the press for your reading pleasure.” He passed a paper to Jamie on his way to his mother’s desk.
“Oh, look, Jamie, you made the front page.” Grace held up the paper.
“Must have been a very slow week in St. Dennis,” Jamie said.
“Well, yeah, it was, but still, you’re news. Everyone was talking about your book signing and how nice you are.” Ford leaned a hip against his mother’s desk. “My favorite comment overheard last night at the art center was ‘She’s just like a real person.’ ”
Jamie laughed. “Good to know.”
“It’s a very nice article, Ford.” Grace appeared to be reading it. “Very nice.”
Jamie opened the paper and scanned the story, smiling to herself when she saw that Ford had made her birth date prominent in the first paragraph. “ ‘Born on October 12, 1979 . . .’ ” She’d repeated the date several times during the interview, hoping Ford would include it somewhere. Surely the date would get someone’s attention. Surely someone would see it and wonder . . .
“I have to get moving.” Ford got up and headed toward the door.
“Thanks, Ford.” Jamie held up her copy.
“Thanks for a great interview. Mom, I’ll see you later.” He waved from the door before disappearing through it.
“I knew that boy would be a good newspaperman,” Grace said with no small amount of satisfaction. “He resisted, but I knew he’d give in, and I knew he’d do well. I always thought he was the one who should take over the paper.”
“How did you know?” Jamie asked.
“Mother’s intuition.” Grace shrugged. “I wonder what we’ll find today . . .”
Jamie began to thumb through the newspapers in the box she’d opened earlier. While there was nothing of particular interest to her—Mrs. Ida Chambers hosted a tea on Tuesday afternoon at her home on River Road for the members of the newly formed ladies’ card club . . . —Grace got a kick out of the photo.
Jamie was working on the third box when something caught her eye. She studied the photo carefully. Grace was on the phone, so Jamie put the photo aside. Two more boxes, another photo that drew Jamie’s interest.
When Grace finally hung up from her call, Jamie showed Grace first the photo of Ida Chambers and the ladies’ card club.
“Oh my, I do remember the card club. My mother was a member.” She held up the photo that accompanied the article and grinned. “And there she is, third from the left. I remember the hat she was wearing.” She shook her head. “My father hated that thing, with all its feathers.”
Jamie leaned forward and studied the paper. Grace’s mother was a tiny woman with white hair and a saucy smile. “You have her smile,” she said.
“So people have told me.” Grace nodded and folded the paper and put it to one side of her desk. “Let’s see what else you’ve found for me.” She skimmed through several papers. “Here’s Nita’s sister Nancy’s wedding picture. Wasn’t she a sight? All that lace covering her face.” Grace shook her head. “One wonders what her mother was thinking.” She turned the page around so Jamie could see the picture. “ ‘Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Etheridge announce the marriage of their daughter, Miss Nancy Alder Etheridge, to Mr. Andrew Parker Noonan . . .’ ”
“Noonan? Isn’t that Barbara’s last name?”
“Yes. Andy is Barbara’s older brother.” She paused. “Older by, oh my, ten years or so, as I recall.” She placed the paper on the save pile. “I do hope Ray can find the negatives to some of these old photos. The more I think about it, the more I think it would make a marvelous display. A sort of photographic time line.”
Grace went through the remaining newspapers Jamie had saved for her. When she’d pulled out the ones she was most interested in, she told Jamie, “You’ve got an eye for this sort of thing. You must have grown up in a small town.”
“I did. Caryville, PA. About as small a town as you can get and still have a post office.”
Grace smiled. “St. Dennis used to be like that, and not so very long ago. Oh, we’re still small-town, but we were a lot smaller ten, fifteen years ago. Once we were ‘discovered,’ well, people were coming into town looking for places to buy. Knocking on doors, asking residents if they wanted to sell, and at nice prices, too. Some folks sold and moved on, but for the most part, the newcomers either had to buy one of those new places out on the highway, or be content to spend a few weeks here at the inn or at one of the B and Bs that became so popular.”
; “Did anyone offer to buy the inn?”
“Oh my, yes. We turned down any number of folks.”
“Not even tempted a little?” Jamie teased.
“Not for a second. First of all, for all his insistence that it was a family decision, it was really up to Dan, as far as the rest of us were concerned, because he was running the place. He had no interest in selling, though—for which the rest of us were grateful, since it’s been Sinclair’s since the day it was built.”
“What if Dan had wanted to sell?”
“I’d have gone along with it. We all would have. Wouldn’t have liked it very much, but it would have been fine. He’s the one who had the burden. If he’d wanted to lay it down, I’d have agreed.” Grace folded up the papers that hadn’t interested her and gave them back to Jamie to put in order.
“Oh, I found two other photos,” Jamie said, as if she’d just remembered and hadn’t held them aside on purpose. She got up from her chair, the newspapers in hand, and placed the two issues in front of Grace. “Look at this one from 1976—and this one from 1977. The same five girls from the picture we looked at yesterday. First day of ninth grade, first day of tenth.”
Grace adjusted her glasses and held the papers up. “So they are.” She snapped her fingers. “Of course. I remember now. Eleanor’s father did some of the photography for my dad from time to time. Looks like he found a way to get his little girl’s picture in the paper as often as possible.”
“That explains it, then.” Jamie held out another issue, this one from 1978. “The junior prom. All five of the girls with their dates.”
“Oh, would you look at that.” Grace broke into a grin. “Nita and Howard—they were married after their freshman year in college. Divorced not too long after that.” She slid her glasses higher on her nose. “Eleanor and . . . Oh, why didn’t we include the boys’ names? I can’t think of his name. Gail’s date was Jack Haslet—he was her first husband, died in a car accident shortly after they were married. She’s been married four times and never changed her last name. Guess she knew what she was doing there. Think of all she saved on monograms.”
She studied the photo a few seconds longer. “Barbara and her fellow, Captain Davis’s boy. What was his first name? Carl, maybe? Nice boy. Very handsome, as you can see. Followed his father into the navy. Oh, and Heidi Richards with the Danvers boy. After high school, he went right to New York and did some work on one of those noontime soap operas. Always did have a flare for the dramatic, that one did.”
Jamie stared at the page; she’d been hoping for something more. Something that would lead her to something else. While she still felt a pull toward these photos of the five girls, she wasn’t sure why, and she wasn’t sure which one was drawing her in. She couldn’t help but feel, more than ever, that the answer to her search would be found in one of those boxes of old newspapers. She just wished she would hurry up and find the right one soon.
It haunted her the rest of the day. She called Sis to tell her she thought she was on the right trail, but she had to leave a voicemail. She wished she could tell her secret to Dan, or Grace, or someone who mattered to her. But the only person who knew—the only person who could know—was Sis.
Oh, and Curtis Enright, but he wasn’t talking.
She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but when she went down for dinner that evening, she was looking for Dan. When she saw him across the lobby, she couldn’t help but smile. He held a clipboard and was talking to a woman with short blond hair who was gazing up at him with stars in her eyes. Jamie saw him excuse himself and walk over to the stairwell, and to her.
“I was hoping to catch up with you,” he told her. “We’re interviewing for three positions, and I’m sitting in. Otherwise, I would have liked to have dinner with you. Or take a walk. Or . . . just about anything you felt like doing.”
“Any of the above would be fine when you can fit me in.”
“That’s the thing, see. One of the jobs we’re interviewing for is assistant manager. Trying to spread out the responsibilities a little. Give me a little more time to spend doing . . . whatever.”
“You must be feverish. Here. Let me check.” Jamie put her hand on his forehead, and he laughed.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up tonight, but how about we do something special in the morning, you and me? We have a few more interviews scheduled for the afternoon, but the morning is free.”
“Something special like . . . what?”
“You’ll see.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her mouth. “See you in the morning. Let’s meet up at my mom’s office around seven.”
“Okay. See you then.”
She watched him walk away before climbing the steps and going back to her room. She showered and put on a nightshirt and flopped onto the sofa to watch some mindless television. By the first commercial, she was sound asleep.
THE NEXT MORNING, Jamie stared at the boxes piled on the table in Grace’s office and wished that, just for a day or two, she had Grace’s eye. It would certainly save a lot of time.
At exactly seven, Dan poked his head in. “Hey, good morning,” he said.
“Hi.” She turned in her seat and smiled.
“Feel like taking a bike ride?” He held up two helmets. “It’s a gorgeous morning. Cool, no humidity.”
“Are you trying to kill me? I’m just getting my legs back from my last ride.”
“Which is exactly why you should go out again today. Build some stamina so you can take those twenty or thirty mile rides and not suffer afterward.” He tossed her one of the helmets. “Come on. Cannonball Island’s waiting.”
“No way I’m doing that ride again.” She tossed the helmet back, and he caught it in one hand.
“Not the entire island. Today we’re only going as far as the old chapel. That’s about halfway.” Dan tossed the helmet to her again. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“I doubt that. It wasn’t so much fun the first time around.” But she got up, helmet in hand, and glanced down at her attire. Short shorts. A tank top. Flip-flops. “Give me ten minutes to change.”
He held the door for her just as his phone began to ring. “I’ll meet you by the back door,” he said before answering the call.
I must be nuts, Jamie mentally grumbled as she trudged up the steps in the lobby. Nuts for even considering another bike ride on the very morning that my thighs have stopped screaming at me and I can walk without limping. How did he know?
Then again, he was pretty hard to resist. Add nicely tanned—and buff—arms and legs to that boyish grin, and he didn’t need to twist her arm very hard.
Back in her room, she changed quickly into cargo shorts, a short-sleeved T-shirt, and running shoes, not the optimum but steps up from flip-flops. She slipped her sunglasses onto the top of her head and her room key into a pocket along with her phone before heading out to meet Dan, the helmet in her hand.
“I think this is the right bike for you,” Dan told her when she caught up with him outside. “Might even be the same one you had the other day.”
“Well, it is red.” She walked around to the back of the bike. “And it has that little dent in the back fender. It’s the same one, all right.” She made a cross with her index fingers, as if warding off evil. “Demon bike. Wasn’t another one available? Perhaps one with a motor?”
Dan laughed. “Sorry, but no. Come on, Jamie. Show it who’s boss.”
“Does this helmet make my head look fat?” she asked as she strapped it on.
“Fat head is better than bloody head.” He put on his own, got on his bike, and started to pedal toward the drive.
“Ah, again with the visual when a simple yes would have sufficed.” She climbed onto the bike and followed him toward the road.
For the first ten minutes, he rode in front of her, which she didn’t mind. The view was pretty nice. They s
lowed at the pond, but Big Blue was nowhere to be seen. “Maybe on the way back,” Dan said over his shoulder.
When they approached the drawbridge leading onto the island, Dan circled back around her. “No cars coming either way, so let’s head across.” He slowed to ride next to her. Once on the island’s road, he asked, “How are you feeling? Legs okay?”
She nodded. “Fine. Good.”
“We won’t push it this time,” he told her. “We’ll go as far as the old chapel, then we’ll stop at the store so I can drop off something to Miz Carter before we head back.”
“Wait—the store is on the other side of the island. I thought you said we’d only go halfway.”
“There’s a shortcut that comes out right behind the store.”
“Now you tell me. I could have used that the other day when I was gasping for water and dying in the heat.”
“Next time you’ll know.”
“Next time I’ll bring more water.”
“There’s a bottle in the cold pack in your basket if you need it.”
Her hand reached into the basket and found the insulated pack. “Looks like you thought of everything.”
“I live to serve.” He took off ahead of her, hugging the left side of the road.
They passed the old abandoned boats that stood sentry along the narrow road.
“You’d think they’d sell those things,” Jamie called to him, “or scrap them.”
“Never know when you’ll need a good boat,” he replied, dropping back.
“None of them look all that good to me,” she countered.
“I believe the thinking is that if some disaster strikes the boats that are used day to day, something can be salvaged from the old ones.” He slowed to point out a derelict craft up ahead. “That old bowrider, for example. If worse came to worst, maybe some of the rotted hull boards could be replaced.”
“I think rotting boards are the least of that boat’s issues.”
That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Page 23
