“She died four days ago.” She couldn’t make eye contact. “Breast cancer. We buried her Tuesday.”
He stilled at the confession. “Ohhh,” he said. “So that’s why you needed the whipped cream.”
In spite of her sadness, she smiled.
“I’m sorry.” He let his hand rest on hers, not for long, just a brief count to two. Maybe three.
She shook the grief away, focused on the task at hand. Find a father. Find her father. Stay distracted. Don’t think about Mom.
“Who’d you come to Sweethaven to find?” Luke asked.
She sipped her latte. “I was hoping maybe these girls—these women—might have some answers for me.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but these women—none of them come to Sweethaven anymore.” Luke watched her.
“But the book says the cottages are passed down from generation to generation. They come every summer.”
“They did—but they…don’t. Anymore.” He folded his hands on the counter.
“Oh.”
“But talk to my mom. She might know where to find them.”
The image of the three letters she’d found came to her mind. Why hadn’t she written down their addresses? She’d expected all three women to come calling, but she had no idea what the notes even said. Now she had no way to get in touch with any of them.
Except Adele.
“Okay. I’ll start there.” She stacked the scrapbook pages on top of each other, making a neat pile, and tied the red ribbon around them again.
“What is it you’re hoping to find?” His question hung in the air between them, daring her to answer.
After a long pause she answered. “My father.”
His eyes widened. “Well, then, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” A smile crossed his face, lopsided, sincere.
How long had it been since she’d witnessed a sincere smile?
She looked away. Perhaps something divine had intervened—had led her to the Main Street Café, for coffee and her first lead, bringing her one step closer to finding an answer.
To finding her father.
She glanced back at the handsome guy behind the counter. “Thank you,” she said, and it struck her in that moment—she meant those two words. Probably more than he’d ever know.
SEVEN
Campbell
Campbell left the café and, armed with the map Luke had drawn on a napkin, headed straight back down Main to Elm, turned left, and drove up Elm Street two blocks to 418.
“Then just park the car and she’ll meet you at the door. I swear she can smell company a mile away,” Luke had said.
“Your mom sounds like a good person,” Campbell said.
“Well, she’s a character, that’s for sure.”
As she drove past The Sweethaven Gallery, she admired the artwork in the front window. She thought of her mom’s canvases in the back seat—of their dream to open their own gallery one day. She’d have to visit that place before she left.
The neighborhood along Elm had full, mature trees and charmed her instantly. Campbell recognized a huge barn on the right from one of her mother’s paintings. The Sweethaven Commons. A sign near the front door told her she was right. According to the scrapbook, the Commons was housed in the old Byron Colby Barn. It looked different than the one in the photo. Newer. Richer. But charming just the same.
The left side boasted a row of clapboard cottages, all with neatly trimmed yards. Flowers burst over terra-cotta pots and vases, lining porches and flagstone walkways. Pots hung over porch railings decorating various homes, each one as welcoming as the next.
When she reached 418, she slowed the car and parked across the street.
She had never done anything so rash in her life. Mom had raised her to use her common sense. Common sense didn’t condone knocking on a stranger’s door with a handful of scrapbook pages. What was she thinking?
She inhaled then unlatched the car door and stepped onto the brick road, willing herself to be strong. She’d never find the answers if she didn’t take a risk.
The flagstone walkway, lined with tulips, caught her eye, drawing her gaze downward. A sweet butterfly perched on one of the petals. She bent down for a closer look. It seemed to stare at her. She fought the urge to cup it in her hands and take it home with her. She wished she had something so beautiful to carry in her pocket.
A noise behind her startled her to an upright position.
“Hello?” A white-haired woman with ample hips and a kind face stood at the edge of the yard. She wore white cotton capris, a white shell covered by a pale pink button-down, a floppy sun hat, and tennis shoes. Gardening gloves graced both hands.
“I’m sorry. Hi.” Campbell walked toward the woman, extended a hand. “I’m—”
“Campbell Carter, as I live and breathe.” The woman laughed and then pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh my stars and bananas!” The lazy lilt of her Southern drawl floated like a summer song.
“You really favor your mama, darlin’. Oh, your sweet mama, God rest her soul.” She removed her gloves, took Campbell’s face in her hands, and stared at her for a long moment.
Campbell’s awkwardness washed away and she looked straight into Adele’s eyes, where she found the warmth and compassion of a mother waiting for her.
The woman dropped her gloves on the ground by her feet. “I think you need some sweet tea. Me-maw made the very best sweet tea, and I happen to have some. I’m famous for it. Don’t you even try and say no.” She shook a finger in Campbell’s direction. “Go ahead and sit down. We’ll chat.” She motioned toward two rockers with a small table between them on the porch. Before she disappeared in the house, the older woman turned and stared at Campbell for a long moment.
Campbell did as she was told, and within seconds, Adele had returned with two tall glasses of sweet tea. “I’ve never had sweet tea before.”
Adele gasped. “That’s a travesty,” she said. “I have to tell ya, hon, I didn’t think you’d come. After we spoke on the phone, I imagined you’d go back to your life and forget all about this nonsense.” She leaned forward and put a hand over Campbell’s. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
Campbell smiled. “I wasn’t going to come. But the more I read these, the more curious I became.” She produced the scrapbook pages from her bag.
In Adele’s hands, the pages looked like precious documents, treasures that should be behind glass at a museum. “Do you know what you have here?” Her eyes welled with tears.
Campbell shook her head.
“All their memories. Their stories.” She closed her eyes as if she needed a moment to regroup.
“Not all of their stories. It’s not complete. There are chunks missing.”
“I know, darlin’. When your mama didn’t come back that summer, they wanted to abandon the book altogether. This beautiful book of all their memories. Just sitting on the shelf in Meghan’s room. I couldn’t stand it. So, I got the three of them together and I forced them to look through it with me, dividing up the pages so they could each have a stack to keep. I’m glad your mama kept hers all these years.”
Campbell sipped her tea and stared out across Adele’s yard. She hadn’t mustered the courage to ask the one question she most needed answered. She didn’t have the heart to tell Adele her reasons for coming weren’t for “posterity’s sake,” as the book suggested, but to find something much more important.
Campbell had come to find her father.
EIGHT
Adele
Adele watched Campbell drive off to a local store to pick up a few things, in spite of her offer to provide anything she needed for the night. Sounded like an excuse to her. No matter. The girl needed a little alone time, and that was just fine by her. She couldn’t blame the poor thing.
Once the car pulled out of sight, Adele sighed. So, Campbell Carter had found the scrapbook. And she had questions.
She wasn’t the only one. When Suzanne had shown up
on Adele’s doorstep only months before, Adele had fought the urge to bombard her with questions of her own. Questions that had gone unanswered for so many years.
She’d been making molasses crinkles when there was a knock at the door. It was rare for Adele to have unannounced visitors—especially in the winter.
Suzanne’s long brown hair had hung in waves around her shoulders, flowing out of a multi-colored stocking cap Adele imagined she’d made herself.
The little girl she’d known and loved all those years ago had grown into a beautiful woman. Adele pulled her into a tight hug, and in a flash the memories came back: The day Meg came home with new friends after she’d spent months hating her for moving them to Sweethaven from Nashville. The scrapbooking slumber parties Suzanne had insisted on. Meg’s announcement that Suzanne wasn’t coming back to Sweethaven—that she’d abandoned them all.
“Hi, Adele.” Suzanne’s face brightened. She’d always had a vibrancy about her, but in that moment, her light flickered.
“What is it, darlin’?”
Suzanne sighed. “Can I come in?”
Suzanne carried an oversized bag on her shoulder.
“Would you like some coffee? Tea?” Adele led her into the living room.
“Those are awfully grown-up drinks, Adele.” Suzanne grinned as she took a seat in the blue armchair.
“Hot cocoa it is.” In the kitchen, she filled the tea kettle with milk and set it on the flame. As she put the carton back, she glimpsed Meg’s photo on the side of the refrigerator. Her daughter should be here. She should be the one talking with Suzanne over warm drinks.
Adele brought a steaming mug to her young friend. “Feels like a whipped cream kind of day.” She handed Suzanne the mug and sat on the sofa across from her. “What is it, darlin’?”
Suzanne sighed. “Cancer.”
Adele gasped. Just like her Teddy. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m at peace with it now.” Suzanne sipped the cocoa.
“But you still have your hair.”
“Chemo wasn’t an option for me.” Suzanne looked tired. Especially around the eyes. “So, I am living it up while I’ve still got the time.”
“Oh, sure you are, and that’s why you’re here to see me—the life of the party.” Adele laughed. A forced laugh. She wondered if Suzanne noticed.
“I wanted to talk to you about why I left.”
“I know why you left, darlin’. Meg showed me the picture.”
Suzanne’s face reddened, and she looked at her feet. “I didn’t have a choice, Adele. My mom wasn’t going to bring me up here with a new baby. It was bad enough that our friends at home found out about it. But Sweethaven was my mom’s favorite place to pretend. She could be picture-perfect with her pastor husband. But I was a failure.” She set the drink on the coffee table. “I really let them down.”
Poor girl. She’d been carrying this pain for years.
Adele took Suzanne’s hands in her own. “You listen to me. I will not judge you. My good Lord Jesus tells me not to judge. I am only here to be your friend.”
“Thank you.” Suzanne pulled away. “I know the girls were mad at me. They didn’t really know my parents. I think they were mad I wouldn’t tell them everything, but I was just so ashamed.” Even now, all these years later, she wrung her hands, eyes focused on the floor.
Shame. Powerful demon, that one.
“They were upset, I suppose, but they loved you, Suzanne. They would’ve been there for you. I would’ve been there for you.”
“Adele, the people who were supposed to protect me the most couldn’t even be there for me. They kicked me out. Told me if I didn’t marry the father, I shouldn’t come back. My child wasn’t welcome in their home.”
Adele cringed. She’d suspected Suzanne’s parents—especially her mother—had been unsympathetic, but she had no idea how badly it had hurt Suzanne.
Suzanne fidgeted with the edge of a pillow at her side. “I went to Jane. I would’ve told her everything that night, but I couldn’t. Bad timing. I didn’t want to push my problems on her. A few months later, I got a stack of scrapbook pages in the mail. I figured it was her way of saying they’d all decided they were finished with this foolishness.”
“That could be, sweetheart, but isn’t it just as likely they wanted you to know they couldn’t continue without you? The Circle was broken. I am the one who insisted they divide that scrapbook, darlin’. I felt like that book needed to be with each of you, and the only way to do that was to give everyone a portion of the pages. They picked your pages so carefully, making sure to get the ones they thought you’d love most.”
Suzanne shook her head, almost as though it hurt to imagine she’d gotten it wrong for so many years.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything, hon.”
“I need you to send these cards to the girls after I’m…”
“Suzanne.” Adele touched Suzanne’s knee. “No.”
“Yes, please. You’re the only one I trust to do this.”
“Darlin’ listen. I know a little something about regret, and I can tell you if you don’t find these girls yourself and say good-bye, you will regret it. And so will they.”
“Too much time has passed, Adele. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You could start with ‘hello.’ You don’t know what they’ve all been through, hon.”
“Exactly, and I wasn’t there for any of them. I left. In their minds, I died a long time ago.”
Adele sat back in her chair. “That’s just not true, Suzanne.”
“Can you honestly tell me if I called Meg right now we could just pick up where we left off?” Suzanne stared at her, but Adele said nothing. “Can you?”
“I can’t tell you much of anything about Meghan these days, I’m afraid. We haven’t spoken in a long time.”
Suzanne’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“She left Sweethaven a few years ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”
Suzanne crinkled her forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story, but it would be better if you tried to reach them yourself.”
“Please, Adele. I don’t have a lot of time left. I need to spend it all with my daughter. I am praying the girls will understand.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you all come up here for a weekend? You can get everyone back together. You can introduce them to your daughter. You can tell them how much you love them face to face.”
Suzanne sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, darlin’. A reunion is long overdue. I vote for the first weekend in May.”
“Blossom Festival.” Suzanne smiled. “It does seem perfect, doesn’t it?”
“So you take those cards home and rewrite them. Invite everyone back for the Blossom Fest.”
As she spoke, her stomach fluttered with anticipation. Would Meghan return if her dying friend invited her?
“But I don’t want Campbell to come.”
“Why ever not?”
“I want to tell her about this place, but not everything. Some things would just hurt her. I won’t let that happen.”
“She’s a grown woman now, Suzie-Q. Don’t you think you oughtta let her decide what she does and doesn’t want to know?”
Suzanne shook her head. “She’s felt enough rejection over the years. Her father has his own life. My family—well, you know how that all turned out.”
“But your history is her history.” How could Suzanne deny her daughter the beauty of this little town? “Just think about it.”
“If she gets a hold of the scrapbook, she will be at your front door within a day,” Suzanne said.
“Fine by me. I’d love to meet her.”
“Adele. It’s a bad idea. Sweethaven is part of my past. Not part of Campbell’s future.”
“Sweethaven has a lot to offer, my dear. And I think that daughter of yours might benefit from a little bit of this town’s
magic. Don’t you?”
Adele sent her home with a box of molasses crinkles and prayed she would make it to the first week of May. Now, she mourned the loss of her young friend and wondered why so many things in life seemed unfair.
NINE
Jane
Jane gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Five hours in the car with nothing to do but think.
Alex. She forced his face away every time it danced through her mind. She had to or she’d start crying.
Twice she’d called Graham to explain why she needed to come back home. Both times he’d talked her into getting back in the car and continuing on to Sweethaven.
“Are you worried I can’t handle the kids?” he asked, his tone light.
“You know I’m not.”
“Good, ’cause I’ve got it under control. The cottage is empty, hon. You could use the time to yourself.”
Time alone seemed like the last thing she needed right now. This trip had already dredged up pain she’d long since buried—and she hadn’t even reached the town limits yet.
She exited the interstate and turned left on Main. A wave of familiarity washed over her. She inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath. Maybe she should’ve packed a paper bag. Just in case. She wouldn’t go down to the Boardwalk. Or even glance in the direction of the beach. Would that be enough to keep the pain at bay?
She picked up her cell and dialed home but hung up before it rang. She could do this. She needed to do this. Graham had offered to come with her. In an unexplainable moment of strength, she’d refused.
She regretted that now.
As she drove down Main Street, she noticed some of the changes they’d made over the years. Old-fashioned lampposts. New brickwork that matched the original. No wonder tourists flocked here for the seasonal festivals. The Reindog Parade each winter. The Venetian Festival over the Fourth of July. And the Blossom Festival always on the first weekend in May. This weekend.
She could almost smell the pink blooms on the crabapples that lined both sides of Main Street. The vineyards would be open, offering samples of their very best wines, and an old-fashioned carnival would be held all weekend down by the Boardwalk and the carousel. How appropriate for Suzanne to suggest this weekend for a reunion.
A Sweethaven Summer Page 6
