Claire clutched her heart, thinking she might faint.
A short time later, she was sitting in a kitchen chair, sipping coffee while Liza explained everything, all the happy news—that they were back together again and had figured out the perfect compromise.
“. . . and the wedding is still on. We might have to push the date back a week or two. But our out-of-town guests can probably book their flights again and come,” Liza said, thinking out loud. She turned to Daniel. “I’m going to call Molly in a little while. She’ll probably run right over. You’d better make yourself scarce.”
Daniel laughed. “You mean Molly is mad at me for leaving?”
“Oh, you could say that. And you know how she gets. But I think she’ll get over it once she hears we’re going forward again.”
“Good. I’d rather not wear a disguise to my own wedding.” He turned and flipped a perfect pancake.
Claire watched, amazed. “Daniel, all these years you’ve made such a fuss over my pancakes. I didn’t know you could cook them just as well . . . even better.”
Daniel glanced at her, looking suddenly embarrassed. “Just a lucky batch. The pan is the perfect temperature. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world this morning. It only makes sense they’d come out right.”
Claire decided to accept that explanation and just laughed.
Chapter Thirteen
CLAIRE could not recall a happier day at the inn. Not even the day Liza had decided to stay on and had so graciously asked for her help in starting up the inn again. Or even the day Jamie had found her in the garden, appearing out of the clear blue.
This day was even more joyous than either of those. Even though Claire had prayed for God to guide Liza and Daniel to some resolution, the answer to this question had come in a way no one expected. Surely the hand of heaven had moved the confounding pieces of this puzzle to fit together, and Claire’s prayers today were full of thanks and praise.
She felt so lighthearted to see her most cherished friends re-united, she wondered if Liza could be feeling any happier. Well, of course she was, and for much different reasons. And Claire had to admit there was still a small shadow lingering over her own heart.
“So the wedding is on again,” Nolan had said, after Liza and Daniel had left the kitchen. “Glad to hear it. Those two belong together. It just didn’t seem logical for them to be parted. So when’s the big day? Have they set a new date?”
Claire felt pleased to hear the question. Did that mean he might be considering staying on for the celebration? “They’re not sure. Molly just canceled everything yesterday. She’s coming over in a little while to try and sort it out with Liza.”
Nolan nodded. “Well, if anyone can put Humpty Dumpty back together on short notice, my money is on that Molly.”
Claire laughed at his analogy. “Mine as well,” she agreed.
Nolan soon disappeared out the back door to do his chores, and Claire never got to ask if he would stay for the wedding—if they managed to reschedule it in the next few weeks. She didn’t want to press him, but she did want to know.
A few hours later, Nolan came back into the kitchen and found her folding the linens. When he walked in, she looked up, and finished matching the corners of a fluffy white towel and folding it into a neat square with no edges showing.
“All done outside. Not much left in the garden, except for some cabbage and squash . . . oh, and a few pumpkins sprouting up. Now there’s a sign of autumn for you.”
Claire nodded. She balked at the idea of the summer ending, even though it had officially ended on September twenty-first. “It’s been so warm and sunny, and everything still looks so green. But I know what you mean . . . Would you like some lunch?” she asked, changing the subject. “There’s some cold chicken for sandwiches.”
Claire knew by now she didn’t need to wait on Nolan, and if he fixed himself some lunch, he would happily make hers, too. That was another thing she would miss about him: his thoughtful consideration. She was so used to taking care of everyone else, and she had been very spoiled these last weeks by Nolan’s small but meaningful gestures, taking care of her.
“I’m okay right now. I was wondering if I could borrow the Jeep. I need to run over to that marine supply store, near Harry Reilly’s yard. Restock the Ariadne. She’s getting restless now,” he added cheerfully.
Claire forced a smile, though that was a hard thing for her to hear. “Of course. The keys are in the mudroom, on those hooks near the door.”
Nolan headed to retrieve them just as they both heard the heavy knocker on the front door. He paused and looked at Claire. “Should I get that? You look busy.”
“It’s all right. I’ll go.” Claire put a hand towel back in the basket. “It must be Molly Willoughby, swooping in to save the wedding.”
Nolan laughed. “You make her sound like a superhero.”
Claire nodded. “You’ve never seen Molly at her best. She is.”
As Claire walked quickly through the foyer, the knock sounded again. “Be right there,” she called out.
She soon pulled open the door and smiled, fully expecting Molly’s excited expression and all prepared to talk over the happy news.
Instead she found a stranger on the other side of the door.
A young woman with long, dark hair and bright, dark eyes who didn’t smile back. In fact, she looked quite serious . . . and a little nervous as well. There was something familiar about her, but Claire couldn’t quite place it. Did she know her from a shop in town, or maybe the church?
“Yes . . . may I help you?” Claire asked politely.
“This is a little awkward,” the young woman began. “But I’ve come here looking for someone . . .”
Claire’s eyes widened. Suddenly she knew. She remembered the photo from the newspaper, though the blurry image had hardly done Fiona Porter justice.
“Nolan Porter, your father,” Claire said simply, opening the door wider. “He’s here, back in the kitchen. I’ll take you to him.”
Fiona Porter looked shocked, but quickly stepped inside. “I’m Claire North, the housekeeper and cook here,” Claire explained. “I saw your picture in the newspaper . . . Oh, it’s a long story. Your father will have to explain it to you,” she added.
“I hope so,” Fiona replied. “As long as he’s okay—physically, I mean,” she added with a questioning glance.
“Oh, he’s in perfect health, God bless him,” Claire said cheerfully.
She entered the kitchen, fully expecting to find Nolan there. But the room was empty. Had Nolan heard Fiona’s voice and slipped out the back door—and jumped into her Jeep for a hasty escape?
He wouldn’t be that desperate to avoid facing his daughter . . . would he?
Fiona had followed her, and looked around as well. “He was in here a moment ago,” Claire murmured. She walked into the mudroom. No sign of Nolan; and the keys were gone, too.
She came back out, wondering if she should run out and try to catch him. Then she saw him at the back door. He opened it and blithely came through, Edison at his heels. He was carrying a metal tape measure and some note cards and a pencil. He must have gone out to his boat to measure something, Claire realized.
Lost in his own thoughts, and talking to himself quietly, as so often happened, he didn’t notice anyone in the kitchen until he was almost face-to-face with his daughter.
“Dad, thank God you’re all right.” Fiona spoke quietly, her voice ragged with relief, on the very edge of tears. Claire felt as if she might cry, just hearing the simple greeting.
Nolan stood frozen in place. He stared at his daughter in shock. Edison was not nearly as surprised. He barked happily and ran to Fiona, his tail beating wildly. She bent down to pet him and let him lick her face, then glanced back up at her father.
“Fiona . . .” Nolan said finally. “Did Fowler tell
you where to find me?” Claire knew that Frank Fowler was Nolan’s attorney, the one who had passed on Nolan’s letter to his daughter. “He wasn’t supposed to. He—”
Fiona shook her head. “No, Dad. Mr. Fowler has been very discreet. He kept your confidence, even when I asked him a few times. I know you said in your letters that you weren’t ready yet to see me. But I had to see you. To make sure you were all right.”
Letters? Did that mean there had been more than the one letter that Claire knew about? It sounded as if Nolan had been corresponding with his daughter, through his attorney—a revelation Claire found very touching and encouraging. He had truly missed Fiona, more than he wanted anyone to know.
“So how did you find me?” Nolan asked, still clearly astounded. “Did someone finally reply to that newspaper article?” Nolan glanced at Claire, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, it wasn’t me,” she said quickly. She looked at Nolan and then back to Fiona. “And I should be making myself scarce. You two need some privacy.”
Claire grabbed the linen basket and headed off to the dining room. Out of their way, but not so far that she couldn’t still hear them, she soon realized. She thought she might retreat even farther, to the front parlor, but heard Liza and Daniel in there, waiting for Molly.
Well . . . I won’t eavesdrop on purpose. That wouldn’t be right. But I can’t very well stuff my ears with cotton, she decided.
“. . . private investigator?” she soon heard Nolan saying. “You went to all that trouble and expense to find me?”
“Of course I did. You’re my father. I’d been going crazy, thinking you might be lost at sea, and then when I got that first letter from you . . . I’m so sorry for what I said. I tried to explain in my letter. I thought you would at least answer me. Didn’t you read that part?”
“Yes . . . Yes, I did. But I . . . I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what else to say. I suppose I didn’t really believe you, dear. Not in my heart,” he confessed. “I thought you were just saying what you thought I wanted to hear. Understandably,” he added softly.
“But I love you, Dad. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean any of those terrible things I said to you. We were having a fight, and I just . . . lost it. I felt frustrated about a lot of things. I was so happy when I got your letter and I knew you were alive. I couldn’t stand the idea that I might have lost you and I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am. And that I’m so proud of you. Wherever you go, or whatever you do, Dad. Whether you live on your boat for the rest of your life or camp out in a lab somewhere, I’ll always be proud to say I’m your daughter. No matter what.”
“Oh, Fiona . . . I love you so much. I’ve been a stupid old fool, hiding away from you. Maybe I knew in my heart that you did forgive me, but I couldn’t forgive myself for disappointing you,” he confessed. “You are the greatest creation of my entire life, my dear. And the one I am most proud of,” he added with a laugh. “Can you forgive me for making you worry so much?”
Claire had to imagine that Fiona’s answer was in the affirmative. She could tell that they were hugging each other, just from the sounds and lack of conversation. And the way Fiona sounded as if she was now laughing through her tears.
Claire felt herself crying quietly, too, and reached into the laundry basket to find one of her embroidered hankies.
Thank You, dear Lord, for making this right again. Love finds a way, doesn’t it? With Your help, she added.
A few moments later, Nolan poked his head into the dining room and beckoned to her. “Claire? Come meet my daughter. I want to introduce you.”
Claire nodded and smiled. She tucked her hanky in her pocket and smoothed back her hair. Although she had already met Fiona in a way, it would be much different having Nolan introduce them.
“Fiona, this is Claire North. My supervisor,” he added with a grin. “She’s the best boss I’ve ever had, not to mention a dear friend. She makes this place hum, and her cooking is divine . . . and her advice, even better,” he added.
Claire felt herself blushing after his flowery commendations. She stepped forward to shake Fiona’s hand. “It’s been an absolute pleasure to get to know your father these past weeks. He’s the best helper the inn’s ever had,” she quipped back, “and certainly, the most ingenious one.”
Fiona smiled, her expression now relaxed and radiant. “I can almost imagine.”
“Would you like some lunch?” Claire asked her. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll fix something for us.”
Claire had nearly retied her apron when Nolan took it from her hand. “You sit down with Fiona. I’ll fix us lunch,” he insisted. “And something special for Edison, too.”
Fiona was already seated at the table with Edison’s head in her lap. His tag wagged happily as she petted his silky head. She spoke to him quietly.
“I missed you, Edison,” Fiona said. “But you look like you’ve had a good summer here, too.”
“Oh, he has,” Claire assured her. “I’ve pretty much spoiled him,” she admitted.
“You’ve spoiled everybody,” Nolan replied. He was standing at the counter, setting slices of bread on the wooden cutting board. “It will be very hard to leave this place,” he added. “But my boat is fully repaired,” he told his daughter. “I want to bring you down later to the dock and show you. Maybe we can take a little sail if you don’t have to rush back to Portland.” He hesitated a moment, then asked almost shyly, “Any chance you might stay overnight?”
“Do you mean here, at the inn? Are there any vacancies?” Fiona turned to Claire. “Can you tell me the rates?”
“Oh, dear, don’t even mention it,” Claire said with a smile. “I’m sure you can stay a night or even two. The place is absolutely empty. Liza won’t mind. In fact, she won’t hear of you leaving, once she learns what’s happened.”
“Liza owns the inn,” Nolan explained to Fiona. “She’s the most generous soul. And she’s about to be married after some . . . mayhem and confusion,” he explained briefly. “She’s floating on a cloud right now and may not even notice you’re here.” He turned back to his sandwiches with a laugh.
“Oh, she’ll notice. Liza’s not quite as single-minded as some people around here might be,” Claire said in a telling tone. “But she’ll love to have you stay as our guest. I’m sure of that.”
Fiona seemed very pleased at the invitation and the chance to spend more time with her father. Claire enjoyed getting to know her over lunch and hearing all about her life. She was almost finished with her studies to be an architect, working part-time at an architectural firm and finishing her degree. She had obviously inherited Nolan’s creativity, as well as his mechanical and mathematical talents.
“I’d love to see what you’ve been working on lately, honey,” Nolan said to his daughter. “You should see some of the buildings she’s helped design already. She’s so talented,” he said proudly.
“Oh, I’d love to see them. Do you have any photographs with you?” Claire asked Fiona.
Fiona looked embarrassed at her father’s praise, but pleased as well. “They’re just models at this stage. But I have some photos on my phone, I think. Let me take a look.”
Her big leather bag was hanging on the kitchen chair. She put it in her lap and started searching for her cell phone, but suddenly pulled out a letter instead.
“Oh, I nearly forgot, Dad. This was delivered to your old office at the university, and they sent it to me a few weeks ago. I thought it might be important.”
Nolan looked curious. Claire felt her heartbeat quicken and her stomach tighten in a knot of dread. She so hoped it was not a message of more bad news about the lawsuit, marring this beautiful afternoon.
Nolan glanced at the return address. An official-looking letterhead. A company name, Claire noticed, but not the law firm that had been arguing his case. Thank goodness for that, she thought.
Nolan zipped his finger under the seal and took out the letter. He put his reading glasses on and read it quickly. Claire noticed his thick eyebrows draw together. He looked quite confused for a moment and seemed to read it a second time before glancing up at the two women, who were watching him, waiting to know what it said.
“What is it, Nolan?” Claire asked quietly. “Some news about your lawsuit?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No . . . nothing to do with that at all. It’s about an old patent I’d put aside, a solar energy cell I designed years ago. This company says they want to buy the rights and are making . . . making quite an impressive offer in black-and-white.” His voice was hoarse. He had to stop and clear his throat.
Claire sat in utter shock. Good news . . . finally. Good news for Nolan! One door had closed but another had opened—one that seemed to lead to a great opportunity.
Just as she had hoped and prayed it would.
“That’s fantastic news, Dad! I remember that invention. It was one of your best, I thought. I always knew it would work out for you.” Fiona reached over and grabbed her father’s hand.
He smiled at her, his eyes glassy. “Well, at least one of us did.” He laughed and looked at Claire. “I’d submitted this idea to these folks before. They liked it, but it was too expensive at the time to produce. But seems some new money-saving technology has come into play, and they never forgot about it. Imagine that.” He shook his head in astonishment.
“I’m so happy for you, Nolan. This is such wonderful news, and you so deserve it. So many of your ideas are amazing. I’m really not surprised at all,” Claire said honestly.
“When you put it that way, I’m not, either,” Fiona said, gazing fondly at her father. “My dad has worked so hard and for so long. He’s just like Thomas Edison, never giving up on his inspirations.”
Claire agreed. Nolan was one of the most persistent people she had ever met. Talent and persistence were an unbeatable combination, she’d often heard. Nolan was living proof of that.
Harbor of the Heart Page 25
