Nantucket Rose

by CF Frizzell

  Maggie definitely agreed. She’d found the irony in it some time ago. Such a nice coincidence.

  Introductions came easily, once Ellis helped Maggie aboard and they guided the others onto the open deck. For her part, Ellis appeared suited to the role, rattling off safety instructions and demonstrating use of the mountain of life jackets she’d added to her usual supply for the day. She didn’t initiate much casual conversation but didn’t shy away from it, and laughed and smiled often, which Maggie relished immensely.

  Several woman apparently deemed Ellis their main attraction of the afternoon, and Maggie soon realized she had to monitor Ellis’s personal as well as professional space. Adding to her hostess chores, she kept an eye up to where Ellis drove and narrated through the speaker below. Rarely was she alone up there, and Maggie noted that one leggy blonde had climbed the steps three times in the first half hour. Yes, ladies, she’s dashing and rugged, arousing…

  Maggie ventured up with a plate of her confections, wanting a moment with Ellis for herself, not just her opinion of the tasty creations. At the top step, she found the blonde lowering her arm from Ellis’s shoulder.

  “We probably should let our captain do her job,” Maggie said, feeling like a chaperone. The blonde’s complexion reddened and she promptly returned to the open deck. “I’ll keep better tabs on them, Ellis. I apologize.” She set the plate on the dashboard.

  “You’ve got enough to do. I can take care of things up here.”

  “I don’t want you feeling put upon, or…”

  Ellis picked up the plate. “Did you make these?”

  “I did. My brownies are amazing, if I do say so.”

  Ellis bit into one and squeezed her eyes shut in ecstasy. “Please save me some from the gaggling girls.”

  Maggie laughed. “You can have as many as you want.”

  “The brownies, not the girls.”

  “Oh, so glad you cleared that up.” She adored Ellis’s lighthearted side. “They’re right out of college.”

  “Pretty but young.”

  “A few of them like older women, I heard. One has a partner who’s older than I am.”

  “Older than thirty?”

  Maggie grinned and poked Ellis in the stomach. “Flirt.” She went to the steps, wishing she could press her whole hand, both hands, to those hard abs. Losing it. God, the pheromones are too strong on this boat. “Going back on hostess duty. Can I bring you anything? Pepsi? Water? I brought plenty of alcohol and the girls are doing mojitos and vodka shots, if you’re interested. Want me to sneak you a beer from your fridge?”

  “No drinking and driving, but a Pepsi would be nice. Thank you.”

  “Just so you know, I told everyone that the saloon stairs are off-limits. No one goes down to your quarters. There’s plenty of room and a bathroom on the main deck, and they’re all good with that.”

  Ellis’s prolonged, searching look held Maggie on the top step for an extra beat, and Maggie wondered what Ellis saw, what she hoped to see, and if she found it. Maggie hoped it was the honesty and gratitude she felt, and the affection, too. The last thing she wanted was Ellis regretting this decision to open her home, her life, to strangers.

  Maggie walked back to her and set a hand on her arm. “Is there something I can do? Is everything okay?”

  Ellis’s faint smile sent a wave of uncertainty through Maggie’s chest.

  “Everything’s just right, Maggie.”

  Don’t kiss her again. You’ll drive her away.

  “I’ll be right back with your soda.”

  Left at the helm with her thoughts, Ellis admitted that this tour guide gig really wasn’t so bad, telling tales as they cruised just offshore, answering questions the women posed from below. That Maggie initiated the most astute discussion pleased her. An islander should care about things like erosion, wind farms, fishing, Native American history, and such.

  Ellis frowned when one of the partiers—and not Maggie—joined her on the bridge during a photo stop off Sankaty Head Light.

  “Hi. It’s Ellis, right? I’m Taylor. Love this boat of yours. You do this for a living?” She gazed off at the flashing beacon atop the cliffs.

  “This is a favor to Maggie. I work on the Steamship, brought all of you here, as a matter of fact.”

  “Guess I missed meeting you on the ride. It can get crazy when we’re all in one place.” She leaned over the rail, cocktail in hand, and gestured toward Maggie, far astern. “She’s something else, you know. There’s nothing she won’t do, always one step ahead with information, drinks, anything we need. She’s making our stay perfect.”

  Ellis watched her, too, the infectious smile, the easy laugh, the purposeful stride and tireless drive, the way she buzzed from one guest to the next, always helpful and unassuming. Headed back to the saloon with an empty tray, Maggie stopped before disappearing directly below them and looked up. She sent Ellis a thumbs-up and moved on.

  “Damn.” Taylor elbowed Ellis and winked. “Gotta say, your girlfriend’s beautiful.”

  Pulled from dwelling on Maggie’s image, Ellis turned back to the boat’s controls. “Beautiful, yes. Girlfriend, no. We’re friends.” Her conscience flared like a kick in the shin.

  “Friends? You two seem pretty connected. How long have you known her?”

  “Since the spring.” But she vividly recalled earlier occasions when Maggie had been the captivating stranger on the Eagle, the stunning businesswoman constantly buried in paperwork.

  Ellis reached the edge of her comfort zone, no longer good with the topic. Emotion had begun to creep into her head, and drifting off on romantic fantasy was not allowed. She had a sizeable oceangoing vessel in her hands with twenty-one passengers counting on her expertise. Never had to slap myself before.

  Taylor nudged her like an old pal before heading to the steps. “Good talking with you, Ellis, and thanks for taking us out today.”

  An hour later, having maneuvered into the thin, tricky waters off Nantucket’s remote western side, Ellis dropped anchor and most passengers dove into the ocean.

  “You’ve chosen the perfect spot,” Maggie said when Ellis arrived beside her along the gunwale. “At least everyone’s eaten well, so they’re not totally smashed.” Maggie finished her bottle of water and pulled two deck chairs closer. “There’s still some fried chicken left, so be sure to try it. You did eat, I hope.”

  “I had one of the Italian sandwiches,” she said, taken by Maggie’s concern. “Just the bread itself was outstanding.”

  “It’s a favorite of mine, too, and a big hit at the inn. I can’t bake it fast enough.”

  Contentment seemed written all over Maggie’s face. Today’s big plan, the participants, the weather, all cooperated, and Ellis felt her share of appreciation and relief, but Maggie simply beamed. There’s so much to be said for enjoying what you do. She pushed aside recollections of happy times working her own business. The laughter and splashing nearby had her smiling now, too. This was fun. Snooty tourists or unruly kids probably wouldn’t be, but how often—

  Heavy contemplation stopped when Maggie leaped toward the gunwale and spiked a soaring beach ball down to the water. There was no ignoring Maggie’s lithe build, the shapely backside and toned thighs, or the way her snug white top detailed her torso when she was only three steps away. Ellis exhaled subtly and stood.

  “Ten minutes, ladies!” Maggie called over the screeching and splashing, and turned right into her. “Ooops!” Palms on Ellis’s chest for balance, Maggie blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were—”

  Ellis shook her head. “It’s okay.” Realizing she held Maggie by the waist, she squeezed a little before letting go. “Really. I-I was just heading up.” She backed away a step. “Everyone seems to be having a great time. That’s good.”

  “A terrific time, yes. They’re crazy but happy.” Maggie followed her into the saloon. “Thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad it’s worked out so well.” Ellis pulled two waters from the co
oler and handed her one, surprised when Maggie gripped her hand with it and stepped closer.

  “Come to Tuck’r and have dinner with me, won’t you?”

  Gut check time. Her brain spun, unable to conjure the standard, no-strings response, the one that usually provided escape whenever “attachment” threatened. Probably because…I like her. She’s different. This is different—and has nothing to do with business. Besides, my unhealthy habits need to change, right? And…I like her.

  “No pressure, Ellis. Whenever it’s convenient.” With a hand stuffed into her back pocket, and discerning eyes rich with warmth, Maggie’s ready pose hinted at mischief. “I promise not to poison you.”

  “If you prepare a meal the way you prepared this outing, it would be great.”

  She drew Maggie aside when partiers began returning to the deck. The volume of laughter and jostling chairs rose several decibels.

  Maggie leaned closer. “Well, Captain? Was that a ‘yes’?”

  “Yes.” Ellis straightened the brim of Maggie’s cap, surprising herself with the affectionate gesture. The touch had just been so automatic. “I’d love to have dinner with you.” Another automatic response.

  Maggie curled her fingers around Ellis’s upper arm. “Let’s make it soon?”

  “Hey, Ellis!” Taylor arrived next to her, toweling her arms and dripping around their feet. “Are we heading back now?”

  “Yes, but we’re in no hurry.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks.”

  She returned to her friends and Ellis lowered her head to Maggie. “Soon sounds good.” Without a second thought, she leaned in and kissed her lightly. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “She told me she couldn’t wait to come back, spend more time,” Laura said from the laundry room. “And not just to see the island, by the way.”

  The comment took Maggie by surprise and stole her concentration as she slid her latest batch of cookies from the oven. Laura had no idea that Jill McGee would return to buy Tuck’r, and Maggie had to keep it that way. It helped that Laura believed Jill had other motives in mind.

  “So, you’re insinuating she’s interested in me?”

  Laura sent her an impish look over an armload of folded sheets. “She couldn’t praise you enough. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Hmm.” Maggie looked down and patted Retta, who now sat at her feet, eyeing the cookies. “Was I that oblivious? I just thought it was good business to show her around because she has some serious connections.”

  “Good business?” Laura repeated. “Well, I’ll say. She really enjoyed the guided tour you gave, loved your baking, and she raved about Tuck’r. Bet she comes back before the summer’s over.”

  “Funny you should say that. She emailed me already with a change in plans. She’s coming in August instead of Labor Day weekend.”

  Laura smirked as she passed. “I see that hopeful little smile on your face, Ms. Jordan. You can’t fool me.”

  I hate having to fool anyone. This is ridiculous. Reviving a whaling captain’s home into a B&B should be seen as a boon to the economy, regardless of whether I’m the owner. If only islanders weren’t so parochial about change… She sighed as she reached for the spatula. And if they weren’t so parochial, Nantucket wouldn’t be so…appealing.

  Maggie reconsidered leveling with Laura as she layered cookies on a platter for the common room. So hardworking and devoted to Tuck’r, Laura nevertheless was a long-term islander who undoubtedly would resent Maggie’s plan to flip the business, be crushed to see Maggie as another of those conniving, disingenuous hit-and-run money grabbers that Nantucket staunchly rebuffed.

  It won’t matter that I care about the island or that I’ll probably leave a piece of my heart here when I sell. She pushed into the common room, and two couples on the couches and an older woman at the brochure rack all greeted Maggie at once, delighted by the arrival of cookies. No, this would never get old.

  “This is the most charming house, Maggie,” the older woman said, “and you are such a lovely hostess.” She bit into an oatmeal cookie. “Oh—still warm.” She set a palm on Maggie’s arm. “I meant to ask you at breakfast yesterday but was too excited about taking that little boat ride you arranged earlier. It was quite informative, by the way. Mr. Whitley was a bit gruff around the edges but so knowledgeable. So, before I get distracted again, I would like to book ten days with you next July. For myself and my daughter and son-in-law. Could you pencil us in now, or should I contact you around the first of the year?”

  “Tuck’r would love to have you, Mrs. Lowell. Come with me and we’ll get you on the register right now.” She led her into the office as the other guests headed for the cookies. “We already have several bookings for next July,” she said proudly, “so I’m glad you didn’t wait.” She brought up her calendar on the computer and logged the dates.

  Tuck’r twelve months from now wasn’t hard to picture, but Maggie acknowledged—with a twinge of regret—that she wouldn’t be bustling about this kitchen or trimming the roses out front or introducing excited travelers to the wonders of this island. She’d be somewhere else by then, maybe hip-deep into that Provincetown project. That wouldn’t be so bad at all. Legalities, construction, decorating, marketing, they should keep Tuck’r out of my head. Plus, who knows what could happen in the LGBTQ capital of America?

  Provincetown’s multitude of shops, artisans, and boaters came to mind next, along with an image of Ellis on a wharf. Maggie blinked and caught herself staring out her office window, disappointed by the unlikelihood of that reality. The Rose could make the journey easily and Ellis could visit, but why would she, when there’d been little more between them than quick thank-you kisses?

  Maggie grabbed her phone and dialed. Inviting Ellis to dinner Saturday night will help us both see if this is worth pursuing. The call went to voice mail, and Maggie kicked herself, forgetting Ellis was on duty. But the low, soothing recorded voice captured her attention and stirred butterflies in her chest as she scrambled to leave a message. Afterward, slumped back in her chair, she doubted she’d done the smart thing. If I’m gone at the end of the summer.

  *****

  Ellis checked her watch and frowned at being ten minutes late. Jan Medeiros had spotted her leaving the docks and didn’t get the hint that Ellis had somewhere to be. Now entering the liquor store, Ellis could hardly remember a word of that gossip about the new bartender at Dell’s, and she grumbled at still being unable to name Maggie’s favorite merlot, the one she’d purchased for her a few weeks ago. Finally, after a hurried search of the aisle, she found it, paid Jason, and dashed out the door and up Main Street. On the corner of Centre, however, she drifted to a stop.

  “Shit. I don’t believe this.”

  It had never occurred to her to ask the specific address. Of course, she knew the area like the back of her hand. After all, her old homestead wasn’t far away, and that threatened to unnerve her. But Maggie and Retta always headed home this way, up Main Street, so Tuck’r Inn was in this direction. But so were several other B&Bs on several other streets. Was it on or off Main?

  A bit embarrassed, she dialed Maggie.

  “Hello, Captain.”

  Ellis shook her head, glad Maggie couldn’t see her grinning like a fool. “Hello, Ms. Jordan.” She paced from one curb to the other and back. “I-I’m just a bit late, I know, but I have a really stupid question.”

  “Oh? Well, as long as you’re not backing out of our dinner engagement, I’m game. Shoot.”

  “No, I’m not backing out. Not at all. Actually, I’m probably just a couple minutes away, but, well, I don’t know what street you’re on.”

  Maggie laughed. “How did that never come up before? Tuck’r is on Davis. I’ll be in the kitchen, so come around back. It’s the old Captain Pratt House.”

  Ellis froze in mid-stride and almost fell off the curb. No. No. No. Her spirit sank like an anchor and she instinctively looked up Main toward the intersection with Da
vis. I can’t—I haven’t in… She shivered in the warm, early evening air.

  “Ellis? Are you still there?”

  She stared vacantly at the cobblestones, turning in place as several tourists stepped around her and crossed the street. You have no idea of its history, do you? No idea what or how long it’s taken to recover from losing so much, from losing the foundation of my family. Running a hand through her hair, she wandered to the building nearby and leaned against the bricks, her knees suddenly unsteady. Yes, I’m a failure all around, Maggie. If I’d warned you, would this invite still stand?

  “Ellis? Hello?”

  She swallowed hard against the panic in her heart and closed her eyes. She knows I’m on my way. Jesus.

  “Yes, I’m here. Davis. I-I got it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The last of her guests out for the evening, Maggie returned to the kitchen and almost tripped over Retta, who was rushing to the back door.

  “God, Retta. Slow down.” She set the perfectly cooked rib roast on the stovetop to rest. “I never should have told you she was coming.” Retta bounced and barked and seemingly lost her mind in the mudroom, those sharp, amber eyes no doubt focused on a friend.

  Maggie took a final assessment of her spotless kitchen, the stoneware settings on the table, the large candle flickering in the middle, the way the late-afternoon sun warmed the dark woodwork into a homey setting. Relaxed and informal. She’ll like this. She took a breath to steady her nerves and noticed Retta had gone silent.

  Maggie stepped up behind her and looked through the screen door to find Ellis gazing at the house, around at the manicured, flowering yard. A black polo never looked so sexy. Bagged wine in one hand, Ellis ran the other through her hair and brushed at nothing on her jeans. She’s nervous. Ellis surveyed the property with an intense curiosity, her bearing steadfast and strong, ever the sailor searching the horizon, but Maggie thought it clashed with an air of uncertainty.