Season of Angels (9781101612170)

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine

  He took the library book from his pack and gave it to her. “I almost forgot. Here’s your book. I also got this movie from the library. It’s an old Hitchcock film. You’ve probably seen it.”

  “Yes, I have. About ten times,” she teased him. “But it’s one of my favorites. I really should study but I’m starting to get a headache.” She frowned, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.

  He touched her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry you feel sick, Tess. I know you said it wasn’t, but I can’t help thinking this is my fault.”

  She shook her head. “I told you, it was my brother. He’s a little germ bucket, honestly.”

  She was making him laugh again. “All right, if you say so . . . I just want you to feel better.”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I do already. Honest.”

  He did, too. He could have pulled her close and kissed her, germs and all. But they both heard footsteps and turned to see Billy walk into the room. “I can’t find the chocolate syrup, Tess. Did you use it all up?”

  “No, but you can’t have milk anyway, remember? It will make you even more congested.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Jonathan could see Tess was tired, and Billy was tired and didn’t feel well, either. “How about some of that Super-C Tropical Splash? It has pineapple, orange, mango, and strawberry juice, and it’s organic. I brought it for Tess, but you can have it. It will help your cold,” he promised. Jonathan knew he sounded like a car salesman, but the pitchman voice worked with his little stepsisters.

  Billy squinted at him and then looked at his sister. “Who is this guy again?”

  “He’s a friend of mine, Bill. Don’t be fresh,” she warned him.

  “All right. I’ll try it.” Billy shrugged, and Jonathan followed him into the kitchen and poured him a glass of juice.

  “Hey, here’s an idea. How about some club soda in it? That’s what my favorite—” He was about to say, “That’s what my favorite housekeeper always gave me,” but caught himself. “That’s what I liked to drink when I was sick.”

  Billy took a tentative sip, then decided he liked it and took the rest of the glass into the TV room. “If you get bored with Tess, you can play a video game with me,” he told Jonathan.

  Jonathan felt honored by that invitation, though he doubted he would get bored with Tess anytime soon. “Thanks. I’ll see how it goes.”

  He found Tess in the dining room at the table, reading something on her laptop. “Thanks for dealing with him for me. He’s a good kid, but we’ve been stuck together all day.”

  “I get it. I have two little stepsisters. They’re cute but tough negotiators.”

  He sat down at the table and leafed through her books and papers. “What’s your paper about? You never told me.”

  Jonathan felt a little guilty when he realized that. They talked so much about his work, and he had never even asked her about hers.

  “Indentured servitude in the North American colonies,” she replied. “There’s plenty of material about it. Too much,” she added. “My problem is just putting the information in order and writing something that makes sense.”

  That was his strong point. He enjoyed the research, but he loved making an outline and the actual writing of the paper. “Want me to take a look? I’m a pretty good writer,” he added. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “Be my guest.” Tess moved the document back to the first page and turned the laptop screen toward him. “I’m going to make some of that mint tea you brought. Would you like some?”

  “That would be great.”

  Jonathan started reading Tess’s paper and made some notes on a pad he found on the table. By the time she returned with their tea, he was more than halfway through what she had written so far.

  She sat quietly across the table, looking at the book he had brought from the library. She suddenly snapped the book closed. “It makes me nervous to watch someone read my writing. I should go in the living room.”

  “I’m almost done—and this is good. You don’t have to go,” he assured her. It was true, too. And he didn’t want her to sit in the other room, so far away from him.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked when he finished. “It rambles all over and makes no sense, right?”

  “It could use a little tightening, but it makes perfect sense to me. I think your premise is very original, too. It’s hard to come up with any new ideas about indentured servants and their impact on colonial communities.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just trying to be nice to me? If it’s lame, I’d really rather know the truth. I can take criticism—if it’s constructive. I won’t get all nutty.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. But this paper is fine,” he replied. “I only have a few comments and questions. I really do think it’s good.”

  “Okay. Show me what you think needs fixing.” She came to the other side of the table and sat next to him, so that they could look at the computer screen together. Her nearness was distracting as he scrolled through the paper, page by page, talking over his suggestions with her.

  Tess was so smart. She had a different style of thinking, a different way of attacking a problem or question than he did, and her ideas always surprised him. She was never predictable, that was for sure.

  They had reached the end of the paper, immersed in their conversation about the main idea of her thesis. Suddenly, they both became aware of someone else in the room. He turned to see a woman standing in the dining room doorway. She wore a coat and had grocery bags in both hands. Jonathan realized instantly that she was Tess’s mother.

  “I’m home, Tess. Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  Jonathan felt suddenly self-conscious, sitting so close to Tess with his arm slung around the back of her chair. Tess jumped up and walked over to her mother.

  “No, I guess I didn’t . . . This is my friend Jonathan. I told you about him, remember? He brought me a book I needed from the library.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jonathan.” Her mother’s tone was polite.

  When she smiled, Jonathan saw a striking resemblance to her daughter.

  He quickly rose and would have offered to shake her hand, but she was still loaded down with grocery bags. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wyler. Can I help you with those bags?”

  “If you don’t mind. There are a few more in the car,” she said.

  “No problem. I think Tess should stay inside. She’s still sneezing.”

  Her mother seemed surprised by his concern. “Yes, she shouldn’t catch a chill. That’s very thoughtful of you, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan went out to the car that was parked in the driveway and collected the rest of the bags. When he came inside again, Tess’s mother had taken off her coat. He noticed she wore a uniform and had an ID around her neck from a hospital. He wondered what she did there. He would ask Tess when he had a chance.

  Billy was sitting at the kitchen table, eager for his mother’s attention. “I think I’m too sick to go to school tomorrow,” he announced.

  His mother turned from the sink and smiled at him. “We’ll see. Why don’t you do your homework anyway, just in case? I made a special trip to school to pick it up for you.”

  Jonathan left the groceries on the table and found Tess in the dining room. “I’d better get going,” he said. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Don’t go yet. You can stay for dinner if you like. My mom always seems a little frazzled when she gets home,” she added in a quieter voice.

  Jonathan smiled. “That’s all right. She’s not expecting a guest for dinner. And you still have to take care of yourself. Do you think you’ll feel better by Thursday?”

  She frowned at him. “I guess so. What’s so special about Thursday?”

 
“I noticed that there’s some chamber music in Newburyport, a Bach quartet. I thought we could go to the concert and then have dinner up there. Are you free?”

  “That sounds great. I love baroque music. I listen to it sometimes when I study. They say it helps your memory, but I just enjoy it. It’s the only classical music I have on my iPod.”

  “I’ll pick you up around six o’clock,” he added. “That should give us plenty of time to get there.”

  Tess agreed and walked him to the door, where he put on his coat and slung his long scarf around his neck.

  “Well, thanks again for stopping over. And for the beautiful roses and the pineapple, mango, strawberry juice and the book and the movie—and for helping me with my paper.”

  “Don’t forget the tissues with lotion,” he added with a grin, feeling happy he had pleased her.

  “Best gift of all, I’d say. You may have saved me from looking like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer this week at work.”

  He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Tess. Now I know my life has true meaning.”

  Tess laughed, and he quickly kissed her forehead. “Feel better. I’ll call you.”

  “Please do,” she said as he headed out the door.

  Tess stood by the door as he walked down to his car. “Go inside,” he called out. “You’re going to get cold.”

  He could see a sneeze coming on as she nodded and waved again, and quickly shut the door.

  If she wasn’t well by Thursday, that would be all right, too. He could come visit and they would watch a movie or just talk. He didn’t care. He just liked spending time with her. More and more, every time they were together.

  * * *

  Tess closed the front door and walked into the kitchen. Her mother had put an apron on over her uniform and was starting to cook dinner.

  “How’s your cold, honey? Feeling any better?”

  “I’m all right. I think I can go back to work tomorrow. I think the worst is over.”

  “As long you don’t have a temperature.” Her mother unwrapped a package of string beans and began snapping the ends off. “I guess your friend Jonathan helped speed up your recovery. He seems very nice. Did he bring those roses?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “They’re very pretty.” Her mother glanced at her and smiled.

  Tess knew what she was thinking: Friends don’t buy roses. Boyfriends do, though. She felt her cheeks get warm. “Well . . . we’re sort of dating, a little. I guess. He asked me out for Thursday night, to a classical music concert and dinner in Newburyport. But that’s our first real date,” she clarified.

  “That sounds very nice. So, you met him at the historical society, right?”

  She had told her mother last week about meeting Jonathan and how she had been helping him with his research.

  “At the diner, first. I waited on his table and spilled water on him,” she admitted. “Then he showed up at Lilac Hall the next day. It was such a weird coincidence.”

  “That is a coincidence,” her mother agreed. “He’s doing some research about the village?”

  “About the quarantine on Angel Island the first year the settlers arrived from England. It seems to be taking longer than he expected. He’s working on his doctorate at Tufts,” Tess offered.

  Her mother nodded, looking impressed. She stuck the colander of beans under running water. “He seems very nice, Tess, very thoughtful. But just be careful, okay? You may see him when you get back to school . . . and you may not. Don’t set yourself up for getting hurt.”

  Tess wanted to argue with her. Jonathan was so sweet. Didn’t she see that? He had run over here today with an armload of presents just because she had a little cold. No guy had ever done that for her before.

  But she didn’t bother arguing about it. Her mother didn’t know him yet. She didn’t understand. She was just doing her Mom-thing, being all protective. Tess had a feeling that she would be seeing Jonathan a long time after he finished his research and left town. He had made that very clear.

  Tess took out the dinner plates and silverware and started to set the table. “Don’t worry, Mom. Jonathan’s not like that.”

  “I hope so,” her mother said.

  Tess didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. He would never date her only to dump her once he left Cape Light. He was just not that kind of guy.

  * * *

  “This is delicious, Claire. Maybe you’ll give me the recipe.” Molly smiled across the table at her grandmother as she finished the last bite of her seafood crepes.

  Adele knew that Claire didn’t normally cook such an elaborate dish for lunch in the middle of the week, but she had gone all out when she heard Molly was coming.

  “I’d be happy to send the recipe to you. Glad you could join us today,” Claire said.

  “Are you kidding? How could I pass up that offer? It’s great to eat someone else’s cooking, especially when it’s better than my own.”

  Claire just smiled at the compliment. Adele thought her granddaughter and Claire were pretty equally matched in the kitchen, with each having their specialties. Molly had come to the inn to talk about the family party she was planning. But Adele also wanted to enjoy her granddaughter’s company a little, too.

  Claire soon cleared the dishes and brought in coffee and dessert, a fresh fruit salad, and slices of flan she had served the night before. Then she left to clean up the kitchen, leaving Adele alone with Molly, who carefully tasted a bite of the flan. “Wow . . . this is awesome, so light. I have to get this recipe, too. Do you think Claire would ever come cook for me?”

  “I doubt it,” Adele said honestly. “She seems very settled here. Besides, the inn wouldn’t be the same without Claire.”

  “You’re right. It would disturb the entire ecosystem here. I couldn’t do that to Liza, either.” Molly sighed and sat back in her chair. “So, Grandma, thanks for inviting me here. I do need to say that I’m sorry for the way I acted when you first got here. I didn’t understand what you were trying to do . . . but I didn’t have to get so mad at you. The things is, I always feel good for a few moments after speaking my mind. But it never solves anything.”

  Adele was touched by Molly’s apology. “I appreciate that, dear. Now I must apologize for the way I came down here, expecting everyone would just see things my way and fall right into line. I’m sorry for that. It obviously wasn’t the right thing to do.”

  Molly nodded as she took another bite of flan. “A little warning might have been a good thing, now that you mention it.” She paused and patted her mouth with a napkin. “I say we’re all square and on the same page now—you, me, and Sam. I hope this family reunion idea works out. It was all we could think of to get Dad and Uncle Kevin together. Sam and I think Dad will come if we say that you’re still in town and we wanted to get together before you went back to Vermont. But we don’t think we should tell him that Uncle Kevin is coming. You know Dad. He probably wouldn’t come.”

  “I was thinking the same thing myself,” Adele said. “I do hate to trick him, but it’s for a good cause.”

  “Frankly, Grandma, it’s not like he’s given us any big choice here,” Molly pointed out. “Is Uncle Kevin as stubborn as Daddy? We’d better rethink this if he is.”

  Adele laughed. “No, not at all. He’s just the opposite. Your father got all the Morgan genes for that trait.”

  “Good news.” Molly practically sighed with relief. “Well, the only thing left is to invite everyone. Sam says he’s going to call Uncle Kevin. But you should call him, too, and explain everything. Is that all right with you?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. I’ve been speaking to your uncle this past week, so he has some idea of what’s going on. But when will the party be? Did you already tell me and I forgot?”

  M
olly smiled. “You didn’t forget. I didn’t say yet. We’ve set the date for this coming Saturday night, at my house. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  By the rest, Adele knew she meant food, drinks, flowers, and everything else needed for a party of—what would it be? Thirty people or so, with Kevin’s family and Joe’s other children and their families, who lived outside of Massachusetts now.

  “That will be quite a crowd,” Adele noted warily.

  “The more the merrier,” Molly replied. “Piece of cake for me, Grandma.” Molly’s phone buzzed and then she checked the screen and jumped up. “So sorry, I have to get back to the shop. Mini emergency with some mini cream puffs.”

  “I understand. You go now if you have to. But this is so generous of you. It must be making a big crimp in your work schedule and your pocketbook,” Adele added as she stood up to walk her granddaughter to the front door. “You must let me help you out in some way.”

  “No worries, I’ve got it all covered. I could do this in my sleep. Besides, I’ve thought about it and talked it over with Matt. We know how much this means to you. We’re happy to help you if we can.”

  “I do appreciate it. From the bottom of my heart.” Adele put her arms around Molly and gave her a big hug, the way she did when Molly was a little girl.

  Molly hugged her back. Then she stood back and looked down at Adele. “I know this has been a difficult visit, Grandma, but I’m not sorry that you came. Maybe we did need our grandma Addie to come down here and kick some . . . Well, you know what I mean.”

  Adele laughed. “Yes, I do, dear. I think you all needed some of that.”

  After Molly left, Adele felt happier than she had in weeks. She felt as if a terrible burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She couldn’t wait until Saturday night to see both sides of her family together again.

  Her light, hopeful mood persisted into the evening when she went into the village with Claire for the Christmas Fair committee meeting at the church.

  They were a few minutes late. The other committee members were already gathered in Fellowship Hall, sitting at long tables and working on the craft items that would be offered at the church’s biggest fund-raiser of the year. Each table was focused on a different project—wooden pull toys, Christmas tree ornaments, painted boxes, and holiday table centerpieces.