‘I shouldn’t have butted in,’ Libby apologized.
‘You didn’t.’ Sarah smiled at her. ‘What’s the point of having a friend you can only skim the surface with? When do you have to pick up Sheridan from the groomer’s?’
‘What time is it?’
Sarah checked her watch. ‘Nine thirty.’
‘Whoops! I’d better be making tracks. He didn’t really need to go in, but I want him looking spiffy for the potluck. I thought about going full hog with white tie and tails, but as everyone else will come casual he’d feel a fool and that’s when he turns his most uppity and chases the cat. Your little Dusk has come on well. I was telling Sid the other night how’s she’s filled out.’ Libby waved before mounting a couple of steps, and then turned back. ‘Last thing.’ This was typical of their partings – one of them always remembered that last thing. ‘I did tell you I invited Gwen and Twyla, leaving them to decide who would stay with Sonny? Yesterday afternoon Gwen called back and said it was pretty much decided it would be her coming and would it work for her to bring Twyla’s shrimp Creole and rice.’
‘I’ve had it and it’s fabulous; one of Oliver’s favorites.’
Now they really were on the move, Libby up her steps, Sarah heading toward hers. The kayaks and dory she had noticed on her first morning down on the beach were still tucked under overhanging shrubbery. She had never discovered who owned them or seen any sign of them having been moved. Evan thought it very unlikely they had belonged to Nan Fielding. She had never mentioned boating of any sort in her letters. That had come up after his saying he’d sailed in college and would like to take it up again. Sarah had said she’d been thinking about taking lessons, but when asked his opinion Oliver had been less sure, admitting to being afraid of deep water even though he loved to swim – so long as his toes could touch the bottom.
She’d reached the top of the steps and was crossing the lawn, re-picturing his face at that moment – so open and trusting. She felt such a rush of tenderness and love for Oliver, and it scared her. It was one thing to have grown fond of him – who wouldn’t? – he was a delight. But to have this strength of feeling for him was the way to heartbreak. And she hadn’t been completely honest with Libby about Evan.
She more than liked him and would have needed to be unconscious not to know he was physically attracted to her too. But she’d given no indication of wanting to move things beyond a kiss on the cheek when he left to return home at the end of the previous weekends. And he’d done nothing to maneuver for more. If not for Oliver she would have taken the chance of mentioning she might never be able to have children and seeing what happened. But knowing how devastated she would be when Oliver’s aunt and uncle took him with them to New York, she couldn’t risk losing Evan as a friend when she was going to need him most. She knew him so well already. He was decent, kind and considerate. If he decided there was no future for them as a couple – but sensed that was what she wanted – he would get out of the picture for her sake. And the thought of his not being there when her life was empty of Oliver was unbearable.
She liked Libby – liked her a lot – but the person who would understand every nuance of what she was feeling was Gwen. Talking to her was often like thinking out loud. But how could you tell a woman, who was watching her son disappear behind a fog of forgetfulness and would at sometime lose him completely in death, that you were anguished at the prospect of being separated from a child who had never been yours? What she could do was seek to draw strength with Gwen from her example of courage, the serenity that seemed to bathe the air around her. It also wouldn’t be fair to dump any of this on her mother who, along with her father, were delighted that she had settled so happily in Maine. But she must not let any of this cloud her anticipation of Oliver and Evan’s arrivals. Once she was with them all this would fade into the background; there would be no room for anything but happiness.
Sarah went in by the kitchen’s sliding doors. It now looked exactly the way she had wanted it, with the white cabinets and custard-yellow walls. The periwinkle and white-tiled floor left no regret that she’d gone for vinyl tiles rather than the real thing. The butcher block counter glowed from its recent oiling. In the center of the round kitchen table was a small bowl containing her growing collection of sea glass. On the stove was a baking tray of cinnamon rolls she’d made at six a.m. Gwen had given her the recipe from one she had gotten years ago from her housekeeper in Boston. It had required not only raisins soaked in heated orange juice and vanilla, but using fresh yeast, which Sarah had found rather intimidating. But the delicious aroma was well worth the effort. She followed Dusk who shifted off a kitchen chair to wander into the living room. She was also pleased with muted aqua walls offset by the trim, white fireplace and bookcases on either side. Her beige slipcovers had come into their own. As in the kitchen with the kettle, she had included a pop of tomato red, in this case a cushion on the sofa and ginger jar on the table under the front window. The same shade showed up amongst other vibrant colors on the unframed abstract canvas above the fireplace. She scooped Dusk up from one of the armchairs and rested her chin on the furry head.
‘Have to make the most of this togetherness,’ she murmured. ‘Once the guys get here I’ll be out in the cold. Do you have to stick in my face that you prefer male company?’ It was true. Every time Evan or Oliver sat down Dusk was on his lap. When they were together on the sofa Dusk spread herself between them. If she could have doubled in size she would have done; but to be fair both made it clear they couldn’t get enough of her. Oliver had explained that he’d wanted a cat almost as much as a dog, the optimum being both. And Evan had a cat at his condo named Fagin. Sarah had listened meekly while together they filled her in on who that character was in Oliver Twist. The book was on the coffee table waiting for them to read the final chapters. Only two more, they had told her with regret. The pattern had been Oliver reading stretches on his own, and Evan then joining him to continue out loud. Those were among Sarah’s most treasured moments when the three of them were together. Oliver had said he was sure his grandpa hadn’t introduced him to the book because the fictional Oliver’s mother had died when he was born and he didn’t have a father. It might have made him feel too sad. Instead he felt more blessed than ever. Imagine growing up in a workhouse and having to face up to the wrath of the beadle when asking for more porridge? Even having to live with Gerard and Elizabeth wasn’t that bad. His grandpa had smiled when he’d explained that to him.
Sarah returned Dusk to the armchair and looked up at the painting above the fireplace. Nellie Armitage had observed on seeing it that her usual opinion of abstracts was that a child of six could have done them, but this one she actually liked. Not wishing to burst her bubble at having arrived as an art connoisseur, Sarah didn’t let on that this one was the work of a six-year-old. Julia, on one of her visits, had kept herself occupied daubing away with acrylic paints on a spare canvas brought out from a cupboard. When Sarah repeated the Nellie anecdote to Oliver he had asked for more stories about Julia which had led to her showing him the sample sweater she had knitted her niece’s name into. Instantly she’d seen the longing look in his eyes and been surprised. She’d assumed he’d believe himself too old for one but quickly told him she’d be glad to make one for him. She needed a name for the boys’ sample and could use his, then make a second one. But that hadn’t been Oliver’s hope. He’d asked if it would take too much time to knit a throw blanket with ‘Grandpa’ on it. She’d replied that it was a brilliant idea and she should have thought of it herself. In future when it came to working on children’s patterns she would, if he didn’t mind, use him as a consultant. The finished throw in a deep blue – Oliver’s choice – lay folded in a plastic bag on the pine dining room table so Dusk didn’t add fiber. What she hadn’t told him was that between work projects she was knitting a charcoal gray one with another name knitted into it. It was a color she had noticed that Twyla wore frequently.
Dusk got off the c
hair and angled around her feet. A signal that her feed bowl might need replenishing. She lived in obvious fear of finding it empty. Sarah had just completed this task and was putting away the plastic container of cat food – Libby had advised her never to leave it in the box because that could attract mice – when she heard the front door open and Oliver’s voice.
‘Sarah?’
‘In the kitchen.’
‘I went up to see Twyla and Gwen said I could bring Jumbo down to save you a trip. Do you want me to wipe off his paws?’
‘Has he been in a ditch?’ Unlikely. Jumbo trod the straight path unless off the leash and encouraged to ramble. But Oliver, who had become devoted with him, enjoyed being involved in taking care of him, from feeding to taking him outside when he needed to go. There were also brushings – unnecessary – but extremely pleasing to both. Sarah, not wanting to look as though she felt a need assess the paw situation, didn’t go into the narrow foyer.
‘No, he’s not muddy or anything.’ Boy and dog appeared in the doorway. ‘What’s that delicious smell?’
‘Cinnamon rolls.’
‘Sarah, you’re amazing!’
She bent to pat Jumbo, who’d been looking up at her as if in full agreement. ‘Well, I have to say I’m feeling rather pleased with myself. Not having made them before, I was all prepared before taking them out the oven to find they needed to go in the trash container, which would have meant driving to Plover’s Grocery for replacements. Would you like one now?’
‘Yes, but I’d rather wait till Evan gets here so it won’t look like we started without him. Do you remember he said last week,’ Oliver was removing Jumbo’s leash, ‘that he could live on cinnamon rolls?’
‘You’re right, he did. His metabolism must beat world records.’ Dusk wandered out from under the kitchen table and eyed the dog with complete indifference before stepping around him to reach a framed opening in the cellar door – kindness of Sid Jennson – that provided access to the litter box. When she’d gone through, Oliver hung the leash on the hook next to the door.
‘I left my backpack in the hall, till I take it upstairs to my bedroom.’ It came out so naturally that Sarah could feel herself tearing up. ‘I also brought my quilt from my old one; Twyla fetched it for me. That’s partly why I went up to see her before coming here.’ He turned toward her, anxiety in his eyes, as if it had suddenly struck him that he might be crossing a line.
‘Ever since I got the bed I’ve been thinking of it as your room too. We’ll go up in a minute, but first I’d like to show you something I think you’ll be as pleased with as I am with my cinnamon rolls.’
His eyes had their glow back. ‘A surprise?’
‘Well, not exactly.’ She led the way into the dining room and handed him the clear plastic bagged package.
He stared down, then up. ‘The throw? You’ve finished Grandpa’s throw?’
‘Take a look and tell me what you think, business consultant?’
He took it out of its wrapping and held it up, studying it with awe. ‘It’s beautiful! I can’t believe anyone can knit like that. Thank you. Thank you. Are you going to make up any more for the magazine?’
‘Not with “Grandpa.” I think this should be a one-off, don’t you?’
‘It would make it super-super special, wouldn’t it?’ He refolded it, put it back in its wrapping and reverently returned it to the table.
‘That was my thinking.’
He stood absolute still as if unable to move, before turning and throwing his arms around her. ‘Oh, Sarah, I do love you. I guess I knew I was going to when I met you and Evan, and ever since it’s been like the three of us were meant to find each other.’ His head stayed against her shoulder. ‘Someone told me he knew it was going to happen.’
‘Oliver, I love you too.’ She pressed her lips to his sandy hair.
‘And Evan?’
‘Yes, in a different way.’ It was the only answer, but she realized when he stepped back, wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and beamed at her, that he might have misconstrued her meaning. But he shifted them onto safer ground.
‘Brian thinks you’re both cool.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ She’d guessed that the foreseeing someone was this great friend, the great nephew of Nellie Armitage who always seemed delighted to have him visit. Brian had shown up at Bramble Cottage a couple of times when Oliver was there and Sarah had taken to him in a big way.
‘Shall we go upstairs with the backpack so I can show off how I’ve got things set up for you?’
‘Yes, but can I ask you something first?’
She laughed, though wondering if what was coming would be another awkward moment. ‘Like I’m going to say no!’
‘Twyla said I should ask you and it’s even more important now. Will you come with us to see Grandpa after church tomorrow?’
‘I’d love to.’ She was the one now giving the hug.
‘Great! You can give him the throw.’
‘I want to see you do that.’
‘Twyla would like Evan to come too.’
‘I’m sure he will. We’ve both heard him say it would be a pleasure and a privilege to meet the man who taught you to love books, and just words in themselves. When I’m around the pair of you I feel in serious need of a return to third grade.’ It was the wrong thing to have said; Oliver’s face clouded.
‘You don’t. Remember Evan saying he couldn’t decipher a knitting pattern to save his life, let alone invent one. Have you felt left out when we’ve been reading Oliver Twist together?’
‘Not a bit, I love being around at those times. What the two of you have done is inspire me. Yesterday I took out several mysteries from the library.’ She didn’t add that three were Evan’s. She had started one last night and been captivated as she rather hoped she would be. They were on her bedside table. To tell or not tell him was the question. She wouldn’t want to sound as if she were trying to win points. What if she slipped from enthusiastic into gushing? She continued quickly, ‘I’d be happy to go to church first. Before heading out to visit your grandpa, if that’s OK with you and Twyla.’
‘I hoped you’d say that.’ He stretched up to kiss her cheek. The inclination to press her hand to it was strong. ‘I’ll ask Evan when he gets here. Twyla says you shouldn’t assume someone wouldn’t mind going, like they ought to believe in it.’
‘A wise as well as a truly good person. The first time I met her I understood fully why you think the world of her.’
They had wandered back into the kitchen when the doorbell went. ‘Can I get that, Sarah? I bet that’s Evan.’ Oliver could have been a lamp radiating light.
‘Maybe too soon.’ She looked at the clock; it was minutes off eleven. ‘He said most likely around noon, but could be earlier if he got clear of the city faster than usual. Perhaps it’s Brian?’
‘No, he’s visiting Aunt Nellie this weekend.’
‘You’d better hurry before whoever it is thinks we’re out and takes off.’
Oliver practically skidded to the door with the benefit of wood flooring, Jumbo in his wake. If there’d been a mirror handy she would have been tempted to look into it and tweak her short curls into better shape. There wasn’t and the thought was a silly one. She’d decided against putting on lipstick after her shower. What an idiot! As if he’d have taken that limited amount of makeup as encouragement. Anyway, it would have worn off by now. She heard the familiar voice blending with Oliver’s excited exclamations and plugged in the coffeepot, turned the oven on at 200 degrees and popped the tray of cinnamon rolls back in. She was straightening back up when they came through the doorway.
‘See, I was right!’ proclaimed Oliver, and Jumbo’s nod appeared to be one of agreement.
‘He really should be doing the weather forecasts.’ Sarah divided her smile between the two of them. ‘Our local expert isn’t really . . . expert. Hi, Evan!’ She sounded exactly right. Pleased without suggesting she hoped he’d kiss her.
He did. On the cheek as Oliver had done some minutes ago, but without the vigor. ‘Hi, Sarah. Not too early, I hope?’
‘We’d been wondering what was keeping you.’ She’d relaxed sufficiently to add, as she might have to her brother Tim: ‘You’re looking remarkably handsome this morning.’ Jumbo was certainly looking up at him with approval. ‘Is that a new outfit? Or have you done something new to your hair?’
‘She’s teasing,’ Oliver laughed happily, ‘we both remember you wearing those same jeans and black T-shirt last weekend.’
‘Yes, but she’s right about the hair. I got it cut yesterday.’
‘Well, there you are! I didn’t get my nickname Eagle Eyes for nothing.’
Evan looked at her in a way that could have made her heart turn over if she hadn’t got her armor on. Even so she tightened the metal straps in the nick of time. ‘Talking about that rose-colored outfit you’re wearing . . .’
‘It’s a dress,’ said Oliver solemnly.
‘No, it’s not.’ Evan eyed him sternly. ‘Don’t take me for a complete fashion Neanderthal. It’s a skirt and top.’
‘Just testing!’
‘Well, cut it out! You’re always trying to make yourself the favorite!’
‘Boys! Boys! Do I have to put you both in time out?’ Sarah was back in the groove. ‘Thank you, Evan, for a charming compliment. But let’s all turn our attention to less worldly matters. Oliver, ask him about church tomorrow before you forget.’
‘Right. Here goes.’ He explained about Twyla suggesting the visit to Grandpa after church on Sunday.
‘I’d be delighted; you know how much I’ve been hoping to meet him.’
‘Sarah and I were sure you would say that, but the thing is, she’d like you to go to church with us, but we don’t want you to feel you must.’
Jumbo sat looking as interested as anyone else. ‘Hmm.’ Evan rested his back against the refrigerator, his grey eyes half closed in concentration. ‘That needs mulling over. What brand of church are we talking about?’
Sea Glass Summer Page 23
