by Anna Adams
“I’d feel sick with guilt, but I’d feel worse if I chose two boys who looked sort of like the ones I saw, and they got in trouble because of something I said, but they were innocent.”
Simon picked up the cap he’d hooked on the back of a chair. “I guess I can’t argue with that.” He put on his cap. “Even if I want to. Remember this is a small town and we have our share of gossips who’ve heard what you saw.”
“Are you threatening my wife, Simon?”
“I don’t want either one of you to feel unwelcome.”
Josh gestured toward the door. Simon left without saying anything else. Josh followed him out. Lydia felt uneasy.
“One good thing’s come of this,” Evelyn said. “You look at Josh as if he matters again.”
Lydia and Josh had yet to agree on the details of what they actually wanted, but he’d given her new hope for the first time. “He always mattered,” she said, “but I like having him in my corner.” It was that simple. He could say he wanted to save their marriage till doomsday, but today he’d acted to keep them together.
The door opened and Josh came back. Without thinking, Lydia ran to him, pulling herself as close as she could—until her heart beat against him and his was a pulse against her cheek.
“What?” He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.
“I’m happy.”
Wrapping her hair around his hand, he gently tugged her head back. “Because of me?”
“Absolutely.” She remembered his parents behind them and turned. “Oh, they’re gone.”
“Fled at the first public display of affection,” Josh said and leaned down to display a little more.
The phone rang behind them. Lydia glanced at it. Josh let her go.
“Maybe we should go upstairs.”
His mother swept into the room, looking anywhere but at them. “Sorry,” she said. “There’s only this one and the one in our bedroom.” She snatched up the receiver and said hello. “Geraldine.” She sagged against the counter. “No. Nothing’s wrong.” She straightened, a flush of red on her cheeks. “There is with you?” She listened a moment and then looked at Josh. “No, I don’t know anything about it. Lydia saw some boys by the school, but she’s never said they were Mitch and Luke. She insists she can’t identify the young men she saw.”
Lydia felt a little sick. Josh wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Well, I have to ask if you still want to help me out, Geraldine.” Evelyn looked even more taken aback at the other woman’s answer. “I’ll ask my son. Maybe we’ll all come for a second look.” She held her arm way out so she could read her wristwatch. “Seven-thirty tomorrow morning? Okay. See you there. I’ll call you if we can’t make it.” She hung up as Bart entered the room behind her. “We have to think hard about this property question. Someone has put in an offer on the Barkers’ building.”
Only Bart spoke. “Did she say anything about Lydia?”
“Oh, yes. She asked if the rumors were true, that Lydia had seen some boys vandalizing the school on Saturday and said they were the twins.”
“And you said?” Bart prompted.
“You have to ask? I told her Lydia couldn’t identify anyone. Now will you all come with me in the morning?”
“Mother,” Josh said, “I’d rather Lydia didn’t go.”
“I’d just as soon not go in the morning if people are gossiping,” Lydia said, her mind on Josh’s history of feeling like a town spectacle. “You go with your mother.”
Evelyn ran a hand through her hair. “I want that place, Josh, but I’m willing to listen to reason if you have any. Otherwise, I’ll ask Geraldine to bid on my behalf.”
“I’m not a real estate attorney. I can only tell you whether I think it’s worth the money or not, and what does my opinion matter?”
“Your father and I have looked at it many times. Lydia’s seen it. Your opinion’s important to me even if I’m prepared to disagree. I admit I’m doing this with more emotion than business sense, but I’d like to know what you think.”
“I’ll be around here all day,” Bart said, “even though there’s nothing to worry about. Lydia, you can keep me company while I paint.”
“Dad, you’re not putting her on one of those stepladders.”
“I didn’t say that.” Bart looked insulted. “You stand in that café window and look out at the boardwalk and the water and the crowds of people down there even on a Tuesday when the season is virtually over, and then tell your mother it’s not the prime spot in town.”
Josh turned to Lydia, but she shook her head, trying to tell him she’d be fine with Bart. “I can’t help factoring in the money.”
“I’ve discussed the financials with the other business owners along the harbor,” Evelyn said. “They make the bulk of their profit while the tourists are here, from spring until the end of leaf-peeping season. I’m better off if I’m right there in the customers’ faces.”
Lydia wanted Josh to go. “I’m not worried, and there’s no reason for you to be either. You should see the café since it means so much to your mom.”
Josh gave in. “What time, Mother?”
“I’ll knock on your door when my alarm goes off. I can’t help wondering if we’re going to be too late. Geraldine told me the dive shop on the other side is looking to expand. They want to connect the buildings.”
“They can’t put anything through tonight,” Bart said. “The kids must be hungry. What do you all say to breakfast for dinner? I make a mean pancake.”
“I’ll do the bacon,” Josh said.
“We have some maple syrup.” Evelyn turned to the cellar. “I used it in some cookies the other day. Ruined the recipe, but I wanted to try something new.” Her voice faded as she went down the stairs.
Bart grinned after her. Josh glanced from his father to Lydia with a smile. And she felt like part of a family.
Later that night, she slept in her husband’s arms and felt like a wife.
RAIN THE NEXT MORNING made painting impossible. After Josh and Evelyn left, Lydia and Bart shared kitchen duties. Twirling the tea towel, Bart looked for another dish to dry.
“I think that’s all,” Lydia said, rinsing the sink. “Evelyn couldn’t have done better herself.”
“But we won’t mention it. How about a game of cards?”
He surprised her. “Sure.”
“I’ll set up the table in the living room.”
“I’ll make fresh coffee. If another cup won’t bother you.” Evelyn had mentioned cholesterol. She hadn’t said a word about hypertension.
“Caffeine has no effect on me,” he said. “It was my lifeline after—for a while.”
She understood. He’d switched from liquor to coffee. While she worked in the kitchen, Bart banged around in the living room. As the coffee’s aroma wafted through the house, he returned, sniffing. “Mmm. Smells perfect. Evelyn never makes it strong enough.” He took out his favorite mug and poured himself a liberal dose. “You’re joining me?”
“But I’m corrupting the elixir with milk and sugar.”
He gave her a formal nod. “You’re only a woman.”
“And we all have our rituals,” she said.
He’d opened all the curtains in the living room and started a fire that chased back the cold. No one could mask the sound of the ocean, licking at the cliffs. Salt scented the air, whipped by the sea, into the wind.
“How can Josh turn his back on this place?” Sitting at a card table, with coffee in front of her, Lydia stared at water streaming down the windows, at the gray sky boiling beyond.
“You know the answer.”
Clara filled the silence.
“What made you go clean Clara’s grave and put on fresh flowers?”
“I did it for Josh, to remind him he had nice times with her, too. He’s eaten up with guilt.”
“I’d take that away from him if I could, Lydia. God knows his mother and I carry around enough for a mob. None of it was his fault.
”
“But he’d managed to help her so many times. I get the impression he tried to make her think you all were sick, rather than—”
“Drunk. You don’t have to be polite. Josh has plenty of reason to rage at the bad times that never should have happened to either of them. But memories of the good moments just make him miss her more.”
“Again, because he feels responsible. If he saved her from realizing how bad things were, he thinks he should have saved her life.”
“Probably the key to all our problems, but he refused to see a counselor—figured he could get over it on his own, and he’s never turned to us. He refuses to believe this is his home—and even back then, we would have defended him or Clara with our lives—if only we’d known.”
Lydia stared at her coffee cup. It swam in front of her. She blinked hard, but finally gave in and brushed tears from her eyes. “Have you ever said exactly that to him?”
“I try to tell him every time he stays long enough to hear me out.” Bart shuffled cards whose backs were faded almost white. “So not too often. And maybe not in those words.”
“You should try,” Lydia said. “I used to think he’d get over the past and we’d move here.”
“Maybe some day.” He turned away, setting down the cards, and peered through the curtains. A lull in the rain let him see the land he loved and the ocean beyond. “Everyday, I wake up and wish I could change the moment my daughter died. Then I pray my son will want to be my son again.”
She started to go to him, but he glanced back, Yankee repression in his eyes and she stayed in her chair. “How do you give up almost two decades of anger that’s made you successful and safer than you ever were before?”
“Hasn’t that attitude made problems for your marriage?”
“I’ve already talked too much about my marriage. Josh likes privacy, and I’ve developed a big mouth.”
“Let me just say this. Work has been his penance. You’re his reward.”
“I don’t want to be some payoff when he has time to pay attention.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, he’s going to switch jobs.”
“That won’t matter until you make him realize you come before work.” He shrugged. “Not that we’ve been good at dragging him back into a family life. Maybe you should think about another baby.”
Guilt at saying too much turned into resentment. “You think our unborn son would be so easy to replace?” With her last strand of control, she kept from reminding him no little girls ran around this property.
“I’m sorry.” Bart came back to the table. “Sometimes I talk too much, too, but I keep thinking if you two solve your problems, mine with Josh will all work themselves out. I didn’t mean to intrude, and you’re right. No child is replaceable.” He stared at her, a hard stranger who wore the face of Josh’s tenderhearted father. “I want my son to come home, and I hoped you’d make him realize family is more important than any job, any house in a strange town. He has no reason to prove his worth to people who don’t love him.”
“I can’t discuss this with you, Bart.” She dropped the cards and stood.
He took her arm. “Does this place feel like home to you?”
A few days here had changed her, too. She’d become softer. Kline was the place she’d choose to live and make a family with Josh. The headland felt like home. None of which she could say—because she had to prove her loyalty to Josh.
“I enjoy visiting you and Evelyn.”
He grunted, dissatisfied.
She turned toward the hall. “I’m going to find a book and lie down, Bart.” She should have kept her mouth shut. She prayed he wouldn’t interrogate Josh about changing his job.
He’d work in any courthouse in the country before he’d take a position in Kline.
Bart’s harsh mood had reminded her she and Josh had settled nothing. One thing was certain. Josh would never agree to come home to Maine.
CHAPTER TEN
JOSH VAGUELY REMEMBERED Geraldine Dawson. Hair the color of copper and a too-bright saleswoman’s voice. She’d always tried to make calculus sound like a win-win deal.
“How are you?” Her handshake was firm. Worry lines were new.
“Fine.” He couldn’t help studying her for clues of her troubles at home. “How are you, Mrs. Dawson?”
“We’re all old enough for you to call me Geraldine.” She held out the keys to his mother. “Thanks for coming so early. I know it’s an imposition, but I didn’t want someone else to rob you of this opportunity.”
His mother opened the door like a woman who already owned the place.
“Mom, wait.” He had to make her see facts. “Think about the consequences. Naturally, Mrs. Dawson wants to sell the place. Sorry,” he said.
“Geraldine,” she said again. “And I don’t blame you, but I believe the feeling one gets in a building is important. Evelyn senses that this place is right for her business.”
His mother urged him through the door first. “See how you feel, Josh. If you like that other building better, we’ll talk. But this is cozy. My customers will want cookies and cakes and tea and hot cocoa.”
“And coffee,” Geraldine said. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
She distracted Josh, and he glanced at his mother to find her staring at her Realtor friend as well.
“Have the police been bothering you, Geraldine?” she asked.
The other woman gathered her composure. “Not about the fire. They can’t with no proof, but you know how this town is. People think Luke and Mitch are guilty and they’ve made sure I know it.” Her false laugh might have shattered glass. Josh wanted to reassure her about Lydia, but she looked away.
Inside, the wooden floor creaked. His feet still knew which boards made the noises in this little café. The wooden display cabinets still shone, red-brown. Three plate glass windows, though dusty, displayed the harbor like three wide, fine paintings of the sea no human with a brush could ever match.
“I see what you mean, Mom.”
“Goodwill is worth the price.”
“Shouldn’t we look at the other building, though?” He turned to her friend. “Mrs.—Geraldine, you brought the other keys?”
“I’ve seen enough,” his mother said. “If you feel the way I do just walking in, that firms up my decision. Geraldine, I need some advice on the bid.”
“I’m not sure what the other party offered.” A phone trilled from inside Geraldine’s purse. “Excuse me. The boys—” She grimaced at Josh as she opened her phone. “You won’t be surprised to hear I wish they behaved as well as you did.”
His mother led him to the kitchen as Geraldine spoke to her caller. “We may have to update next year, but for now, these stoves are adequate.”
He ran his hand over the scratched metal. “I guess you know what equipment you’ll need?”
“I’ve been baking cookies for years. These ovens will give me a huge step up compared to the one at home.”
“Have you thought about staff?”
“I figure I’ll hire maybe a high school student at first, to man the counter while I’m back here. I’ll have to do as much of my cooking as I can in the evenings.” She opened a mammoth fridge that smelled a little musty. “We’ll need some baking soda.” She sounded efficient.
“Why didn’t I ever know this side of you?”
“Until Clara died, I’m not sure I knew this side of me. Afterward, you didn’t want to know.”
Well-nurtured anger flooded back in a poisonous stream. “How can you say it so matter-of-factly?”
“Practice.” Her deep breath didn’t manage to hide a battle against crying. He knew that feeling too well. “I was in therapy for years. I haven’t gotten used to it or accepted it. I’ve learned to talk about it.”
He stared at her thin, lined face and wouldn’t let himself pass judgment. For a change. Love waited in her eyes, waited for him to hit at her as he always had.
“I know what you mean,” he said instead.
“We never saw our son, and we didn’t give him a name, but he was as real to us as if he’d been born. I feel cheated. At least Lydia held him in a way. I never got to.”
Grief broke the last words in his mouth. His mother came to his side.
“Josh,” she said but waited for him to give her some sign of his feelings.
The animosity of decades paralyzed him, but Lydia was right about his family. In the end everyone needed a mother and father. They’d all suffered enough. He held out his arms and his mother walked into them. She was so small she reminded him of Clara.
“I’m sorry about the baby,” she said. “I’d do anything to help you and Lydia.”
“Lydia and I have to help ourselves.”
“Marriage is compromise.”
“Mother,” he glanced toward the other room, where Geraldine’s voice was rising, “I want to make a new start with you and Dad, but you can’t advise Lydia and me.”
“Whatever you say.” She ducked into a huge cupboard. “I was startled to hear Geraldine say you behaved well in school. I imagined you were a bit of a tearaway.”
“Because I couldn’t get along with you and Dad at home, school was a relief.”
She shut the cupboard door, her face drained of emotion. “At least you’re honest.”
Hurting her was too easy. “Maybe I don’t always have to be.” He wished he could take it back. “I still smell fresh-baked bread in here.”
“I know, and it’s still making me hungry.”
The door squeaked. Geraldine came through. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll call and let Marcy Barker know to expect a bid. Then I’ll call you later, and we’ll discuss price. Don’t worry. They won’t accept the other buyer yet.” She nodded at Josh. “Nice to see you again.”
She left in a rush, leaving her keys behind. He grabbed them from the counter where his mother had laid them.
“I’ll return these.”
He caught Geraldine on the sidewalk. She was searching her purse, her hands frantic and shaking. “Oh, thanks.” She shut her purse and headed for a dark-blue car at the curb. “Just turn the lock and pull the door shut when you leave. I’ll come by later and set the alarm.”
