The older woman frowned as she took a sip of her iced tea. Maybe she disliked being challenged, Sara thought, or maybe she was just surprised that anyone would dare. Emily never seemed to.
“Well, I suppose you have a point,” Lillian conceded at last. “I’m reading an interesting book right now that I would recommend to you if you like fiction. It presents intriguing questions about art as it’s shaped by society, though the author doesn’t necessarily answer them,” Lillian clarified. “Very interesting writer . . .”
She named a book that Sara had already read, a new novel by an Asian author that received good reviews but was somewhat obscure. Sara was not only surprised that Lillian was aware of the book but sounded as if she was enjoying it.
“I read that,” Sara said. “I really liked it, but I think I need to read it again. It had so many levels of meaning. And I’m not sure I understood the ending,” she confessed.
“I’m only halfway through. Don’t spoil it for me,” Lillian warned her. “With my eyesight these days, it’s slow going. Even if I can find the large-print edition.”
“That’s too bad,” Sara sympathized. She had never thought there might be a time in her life when it would be hard to read. That would be awful.
“What about Molly?” Emily asked. “I thought she was going to read to you a bit when she comes.”
“Oh, well, she tried. But she doesn’t have the time really. Nor the interest. You can’t force that type of thing, you know.”
“I can read to you,” Sara offered, surprising herself.
Emily glanced at her. “You must be very busy with your job, Sara. And tired from being on your feet all day.”
Sara knew she was just trying to give her an easy way out if she wanted one. But then she looked at Lillian, staring straight ahead, her chin lifted high. She could sense that Lillian was pleased by the offer but too proud to show it.
Lillian is interesting, Sara thought. She is every bit as difficult as people claim, but once you get past her prickly temperament, she is more intellectual and stimulating than her reputation suggests. Besides, Lillian was her grandmother, and Sara was very curious to get to know her better.
“Of course I can do it,” Sara insisted. “I have plenty of time off during the day. Lucy mainly likes me there at night, so she can be with home with her children. I can come in the mornings or around lunchtime.”
“That would be nice,” Lillian said finally. “You have a nice strong voice, too. Good diction.”
Sara smiled. No one had ever complimented her pronunciation before. Not since elementary school anyway.
“Where are you from?” Lillian asked.
“Maryland,” Sara answered.
“Yes, of course. I noticed your accent.”
“That’s funny, I thought everyone around here had an accent,” Sara replied with a grin. Lillian didn’t quite laugh, but she did smile.
“Would you like to start today after lunch?” Sara offered.
“Yes, let’s start today. I have a day off from my physical therapist. I don’t have anything to do, really, once Emily leaves.”
“Neither do I,” Sara said.
Emily caught Sara’s gaze again. She looked very grateful for Sara’s kindness to her mother, and Sara felt a wave of warmth for her.
“We’ll see how it works out,” Emily advised. “It’s very nice of you to offer, Sara. Honestly.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear, I have to run. I’m sorry, Sara,” she apologized as she rose from her seat. “How will you get home without your car?” she asked with concern.
“No problem. I’ll walk down to the diner, and Lucy will give me a ride later. She always has to pass the cottages on her way home anyway.”
“Okay then. I’ll see you. Thanks for coming over,” she added. “This was a nice break for me.” She leaned down and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll stop by later or tomorrow morning and put those plants in for you.”
“Maybe Jessica will come and do it. She likes to garden,” Lillian said.
“Yes, I’ll call her and see if she’s free this weekend.”
“I hope she’s stopped seeing that Sam Morgan,” Lillian said.
I hope she still is, Emily nearly countered. She liked Sam, and though he and her sister were an unlikely match, she thought her sister seemed happier since she’d started going out with him. But she didn’t have the time or energy to get into that debate. She simply waved and left.
As she walked around to the front of the house, she heard Sara compliment the garden.
“A good garden requires persistence and the ability to learn from your mistakes,” Emily heard Lillian reply. “A lot like life . . .”
Emily could not hear Sara’s answer. She was sure when the young woman had volunteered to read to her mother, she didn’t expect to sign up for a philosophy course as well. Emily hoped it would work out. She liked Sara Franklin very much. Something about her was very . . . endearing. She hoped they’d be seeing more of her.
THE DINER SEEMED LONELY WITHOUT SARA, LUCY thought. She was used to the young woman’s company. There had been a rush during lunch hour, a lot of tourists in for the weekend, taking a break from the beach, or just getting into town. She must have served over a hundred crab rolls.
The place was empty now, though. Lucy passed the time refilling the empty ketchup bottles and wiping them down with a damp cloth. She glanced up from time to time, to see if her two lone customers needed anything. One of them was Tucker, taking a coffee break at the counter, and the other was Luke McAllister. Lucy didn’t know Luke well but recognized him. He had been coming into the diner fairly regularly since the summer started.
When Luke waved for his check, she brought it over to him and set it down on the table beside his plate. “There you are. Need more coffee?”
“No, thanks,” he said, putting some bills on the table. “By the way, where’s Sara today?”
“She’s off,” Lucy said, picking up the check and the money.
Luke rose from his seat and put on his sunglasses. “Tell her I said hello,” he said as he started toward the door.
“Sure, I’ll tell her,” Lucy promised, though she wasn’t at all sure that she would pass on the message. Something about Luke bothered her. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but she didn’t like the idea of Sara’s getting involved with him.
She walked back to the counter and stood by Tucker, who was reading the newspaper. “That guy Luke McAllister is an odd one,” she said.
“Hmmm, I know what you mean,” Tucker agreed. “He’s been hanging around town all summer. Doing a lot of nothing, far as I can tell.”
“I heard he spent summers in the village as a kid, so he wanted to stay here again,” Lucy said.
Luke still knew a few people in town, old friends of his family’s, so whatever he told them sort of got around.
Tucker looked around, then leaned a bit closer. “I heard from a cop I know down in Boston that McAllister was a police officer there. So were his dad and older brother—he comes from a family of Boston cops.” Tucker’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I heard Luke was hurt in a shooting and nearly died.”
“Is that so?” Lucy replied with interest. “I would have never taken him for a policeman.”
“He worked undercover, drug cases mostly,” Tucker told her. “This fellow I know who told me the story says McAllister’s partner was killed, and it might have been Luke’s fault—if things like that can ever be anyone’s fault. So he left the force—quit or got fired, I don’t know which. Then it seems he had some other problems. Trouble with his family, his fiancée dumping him, and then maybe some drinking.”
“Hmmm, that’s too bad,” Lucy said, revising her opinion. If Luke was strange, maybe it was just because he’d been through a rough patch. Lucy was always sympathetic to another person’s troubles. “He seems to be straightened out now,” she said. “Sort of a loner, though.”
“Yup, I’d say that for sure,” Tucker agr
eed. “I guess he’s got a lot on his mind.”
Tucker went back to his newspaper, and Lucy began the task of replacing the ketchup bottles that she had refilled.
Sara had never mentioned a boyfriend, she realized. Did she have someone back in Maryland? Was Sara attracted to Luke? Some women liked that angry, loner type. It seemed romantic at first. Then you get stuck with a piece of work like Charlie, she thought, shaking her head.
She decided that she would tell Sara that Luke had asked about her. But she would also pass on what Tucker said.
Ruth Harvey, the mail carrier, came in with the Clam Box mail and handed it to Lucy. Lucy glanced over her shoulder, looking for Charlie. He was safely out of sight in the kitchen, so she quickly riffled through the envelopes.
Felicity Bean had secretly helped her fill out some college applications, and though Lucy knew it was probably too early to hear anything, she checked nervously each day. She couldn’t risk having Charlie find anything from the colleges. He would start asking a lot of questions before she was ready to talk to him about it.
Which might be never, she thought woefully. She knew it was wrong to keep the secret from her husband, but she also knew how he would react once she told him. Flip his lid was a good prediction. Lucy figured that she would wait to see if she even got accepted to any of the schools, then tell him. If she didn’t get in, she wouldn’t even bother.
Finding nothing incriminating in the mail, Lucy stacked the pile neatly and left it for Charlie on the shelf under the register. She was feeling momentarily at peace, about to start refilling the salt and pepper shakers, when an unholy roar sounded from the kitchen.
Charlie burst through the swinging doors, waving two paperback books at her. Lucy’s heart sank. She recognized them as the two college catalogs that had arrived the day before. Lucy had been looking them over with Felicity; she hadn’t had a chance to bring them home and hide them in the attic with the rest of her collection.
“What is this?” Charlie asked, pushing the catalogs toward her. “I pulled open the cupboard up on top of the stove, and these things hit me in the head.”
Lucy made a show of looking at his partially bald scalp. “I don’t see anything. Want some ice?” she asked.
Charlie remained focused on the books. “These are college bulletins. What are they doing up in that cupboard? Who put them there?”
He was frowning, but just confused, not really angry yet, she thought. She twisted her hands together. Should she tell him? Just come right out and say, Charlie, I want to go back to school. I really, really want this. I’ve been looking into it, and I think—
“Look at this—” His voice cut into her wandering thoughts. “They’re addressed to Sara Franklin, care of the diner. I thought that girl already went to college. Didn’t she tell you she just graduated?”
Lucy felt her body go slack with relief. Of course, she’d had those two sent under Sara’s name, just in case. Well, just in case had come, and she was, for the moment, saved from confessing.
“Maybe she’s thinking of going back to school in the fall to study something else,” Lucy offered.
Charlie looked back at the books again, mulling over her explanation. “I don’t know. It seems queer to me. Nearly gave me a concussion, for Pete’s sake,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he turned back to the swinging doors.
Lucy breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Yes, I’ll talk to her about it,” she called after her husband.
It wasn’t entirely a lie, either. She would certainly tell this whole story to Sara.
HAVING INVENTED INDEPENDENCE DAY, NEW ENGLANDERS could not be faulted for the way they revered the Fourth of July. Happy to don garb of the Revolutionary era, they cheerfully dusted off their muskets and tricorn hats and took to the streets. All morning they would turn back the clock with mock battles and marches, only to carry off the wounded later in the day to baseball games, clambakes, and barbecues.
The village of Cape Light was no different. At dawn a band of counterfeit redcoats marched down the Beach Road, starting off from their landing at Durham Point, to meet the plucky, ragtag village militia in the village square.
The reenactment was always well attended, but the highlight of the day was the parade, a grand affair with marching bands, floats, the county’s award-winning bagpipe corps, veterans of foreign wars, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, the Coast Guard, and the Visiting Nurses Society, not to mention police chiefs, fire chiefs, and the entire town council on a float, trailing the village crest on a long banner. There was even the complete inventory of the town’s fire-fighting and emergency vehicles, all highly polished.
Jessica didn’t care much about parades down Main Street. She had seen enough in her childhood to last a lifetime. But on the Fourth of July she was obliged to take her mother into town to watch the parade and see Emily, first waving from the back of a convertible, then up on the reviewing stand to give a speech.
Jessica brought her mother into town early enough to find a parking space near the reviewing stand. Because Emily was mayor, they had special seats under an awning, which made Jessica feel a bit self-conscious. Her mother, however, had no such problems. Dressed in an outfit normally reserved for Sundays, Lillian seemed quite comfortable in her privileged position.
“Now, if the show is half as good as these seats, it won’t be a wasted morning,” Lillian said as the parade began.
The parade was actually a lot more fun than Jessica expected. It was colorful and silly and completely good-natured. And then it was time for Emily to climb to the podium to make her speech.
“Good morning, fellow Patriots,” she began, and was answered by a loud cheer. “Have you heard? The British are coming. . . .”
As always, Emily made a good speech, starting off with a touch of humor and eventually stirring patriotic and community spirit.
Lillian clapped vigorously, her gaze fixed on her eldest daughter. She was so proud of Mayor Warwick. Jessica knew that, but today it seemed especially poignant. She didn’t think about it much, but she was very proud of Emily, too. She realized now she had never even told her.
Emily met up with them when the presentation was over. “That was a very nice speech, Emily,” Lillian said, bestowing a rare, unqualified compliment.
“Thank you, Mother. Just the usual for the occasion, I thought.” She glanced at Jessica and smiled. “At least you had good seats, out of the sun.”
“Well, we happen to know the mayor,” Jessica teased.
Emily laughed. “What are you doing today, Jessica? Would you like to come to Betty’s with us?” she asked.
“Uh, no, thanks,” Jessica replied finally. “I’m going out. With Sam. His parents are having a party,” she admitted, hoping her mother wouldn’t start an argument when she heard that. “I’m supposed to meet him out on the green in a few minutes,” she added, glancing at her watch.
Lillian seemed distracted by all the activity around them and made no comment.
Emily smiled. “Well, have a good time,” she said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.” Jessica nodded and watched as Emily led their mother away.
She had almost hoped her mother would refuse to go to Betty Bowman’s barbecue at the last minute, giving her an acceptable excuse to get out of her plans with Sam. He had invited her to a party at his parents’ house and had somehow persuaded her to come.
Most of his family would be there. Jessica didn’t know why she’d ever agreed to this. A weak moment, she decided. He must have been staring into her eyes, or holding her hand. From the moment they first met, Sam had a way of throwing her off balance.
Jessica walked to the Village Green, searching for Sam in the crowd. She knew when he asked that it was important to him, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by refusing.
It didn’t take long to spot him. He was standing under a large oak tree, dressed in jeans and a simple white T-shirt that showed off his dark good looks. In fact, he looked madde
ningly handsome.
“Jessica,” he called out as he saw her approach. Someone had given him a three-cornered hat, and he waved it at her.
She waved back and walked toward him, smiling as their eyes met. Sam leaned over and put his arm around her.
“Not here,” Jessica murmured, feeling embarrassed about being hugged in the middle of the Village Green, but Sam just laughed and held on.
“I’m home from the war, woman. Doesn’t that even rate a kiss?”
“Give me a break. You weren’t even in the enactment,” she said with a laugh. But finally she couldn’t resist melting into his arms and closing her eyes to kiss him hello.
Okay, so she was going to meet his family. No big deal. He met her mother and knew Emily. It didn’t have to mean anything, she reassured herself. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone.
A SHORT TIME LATER SHE AND SAM ARRIVED AT THE Morgans’ modest Cape. She heard music and laughter coming from the backyard. She smelled the scent of Joe Morgan’s grill heavy in the air. Jessica froze . . . she didn’t want to get out of Sam’s truck.
Sam seemed to read her thoughts. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, and took her hand. “They really want to meet you. This is going to be okay.”
Jessica sincerely doubted that, but knew she had no choice now. With a firm grip on her hand, Sam led the way into the gathering. She felt him holding her hand a little more tightly than usual. Was he merely offering emotional support or did he fear she’d make a run for it?
The first person he introduced was his mother, Marie, who greeted Jessica warmly. Jessica could see where Sam had gotten his dark good looks and high energy. Marie was busily setting out platters of food while directing her daughters as they prepared the rest of the meal, so their conversation was brief.
Sam’s father, Joe, watched over the long, professional-looking grill with a serious expression. A barrel-chested man of medium height, he wore a white chef’s apron over jeans and a red, white, and blue shirt. A Red Sox cap topped off his attire. When he saw his son, his round face broke into a wide sunny smile. He had dimples and a cleft chin just like Sam. “Glad you could come. We’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, taking off his oven mitt to shake Jessica’s hand.
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