by Gayle Roper
Mr. Carmichael scowled, his wrinkled face taking on the look of a dried apple. “None of your business.”
Dan nodded. Thoughtful, gracious answer. Typical of the man. “Well, maybe we can talk again later,” Dan said easily and waved good-bye.
Mr. Carmichael snorted.
Sighing, Cass turned toward the boardwalk, away from the old man. “I wish I knew for sure what he has against me.”
“You don’t have any idea?”
“Well, I have an idea or two,” Cass said. “Not that they make sense to me, but they might to him.”
When she didn’t continue, he prompted, “And they would be?”
“For one, maybe he’s jealous of the time I gave the Eshelmans.”
Jealousy and Mr. Carmichael were a mental stretch for Dan, but then he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at understanding why people did things. He didn’t even fully understand why he liked to hang around with Cass so much. If he couldn’t figure out himself, how could he hope to comprehend a grump like Mr. Carmichael? “Who are the Eshelmans?”
“The old couple who used to own SeaSong back when it was just a big, old Victorian falling into ruin. When I was still teaching, I drove past the place every day driving to and from school. I stopped one day, introduced myself, and asked about buying the place. They told me no in no uncertain terms, but I liked them and hung around for two years as their friend.” She smiled, pleasant memories obviously unrolling for her. “I’d stop in two or three days a week after school. Some days I’d bring dinner. I think those were the only days they ate properly.”
He was struck by how deeply a part of her those care-giving instincts were. Not just her family but any in need benefited from knowing her.
“The Eshelmans didn’t have any family and were very lonely, so they appreciated my visits. Mrs. Eshelman loved to talk. When she thought I might be coming, she’d watch the news all day so we could discuss it. She was this tiny, tiny lady who came to my waist and weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet. But she had heart and spirit and would have been an excellent foreign policy advisor for the president. Mr. Eshelman hated world affairs and loved to complain. When he wasn’t yelling at her to speak up, he was ordering her to turn off the news.” She laughed. “The first time he saw me, he said, ‘Big one, aren’t you? Flab or muscle?’ ”
Dan blinked. Hardly a polite or politic beginning to a friendship.
“He was this little man confined to bed, and he always said whatever came to mind. He drove his wife crazy, but I loved him almost as much as she did. And he loved me.” Cass fell silent for a minute. “I miss them.” She glanced back toward SeaSong. “I hope they’d like what I did to their home.”
If they didn’t, they were nuts, Dan thought. “What happened to them?”
“She fell down the steps and never regained consciousness.” Cass’s smile was sad. “I was with her when she died after three days in a coma. Mr. Eshelman died less than a month later. He had to go to a nursing home after her fall, and he just turned his face to the wall and died.”
She glanced back toward Mr. Carmichael’s place and sighed. “If he’s not jealous, then maybe he thinks I somehow hoodwinked the Eshelmans into leaving me their house. He thinks I’m dishonorable.”
“You? Never. He’s just putting his own behavior patterns on you. He imagines you in there browbeating the Eshelmans until they signed on the dotted line because that’s what he would do.”
Cass shrugged. “Maybe. But I never knew their intentions concerning the house until after they died. When their lawyer called, I couldn’t believe it. I am so grateful to them for their generosity. I certainly don’t expect the same from Mr. Carmichael. I’ve offered him a fair price.”
Dan looked at her, saw the frustration and sorrow that washed over her. “You really want that place, don’t you?”
“I’ll live if I don’t get it, but I’d rather get it and live in it.”
“What? You want to live there?” He turned and studied the place again, walking backward a few paces. He saw not one saving feature on the whole ugly building. “Why, for Pete’s sake?”
Cass stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “A bit more privacy, but I’d be close enough to handle any problems that might arise at SeaSong. It’d also open up the back bedrooms at SeaSong that I’ve kept for my use.”
“More privacy and more income.” He nodded. “But will the extra income pay for the house and its renovation? And where would you start with a place that’s so derelict? Or do you want to tear it down and build new? I think I’d tear it down.”
“You wouldn’t!” Cass looked at him, appalled.
“Cass, be practical. The place is a wreck. Carmichael hasn’t done anything on upkeep for years!”
“That doesn’t mean there’s not a fine house buried in the ruin.”
“Tear it down.”
Cass shook her head. “Absolutely not.” Her look turned dreamy. “I’ve got all kinds of sketches of what I’d like to do with the place. And estimates of cost. I’m collecting furniture for the place at estate sales and flea markets. I’ve already refinished some of it. I found the most wonderful old headboard at a place up in New Hope. I know I paid too much—after all, it’s New Hope—but it’s wonderful.”
Dan, who knew nothing about New Hope and had never gotten excited about a headboard in his life, nodded. He decided to keep this conversation practical. “What happens when old Carmichael dies? Has he got family who might be sympathetic to your cause?”
“No one. He’s absolutely alone, just like the Eshelmans. That’s one of the reasons I try to be nice to him.” She sighed. “He’s going to die intestate, and some builder will probably come along and offer the bank or whoever a stupendous price that I could never match.”
Dan thought she was probably right, but he wisely didn’t say so. “If that’s the likely scenario, did you ever think that you might be wasting your time with all your planning?”
She shrugged. “Sure, but why not? I enjoy it. Then, too, there’s my secret weapon.”
He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
She gave a humorous little snort. “Mr. Carmichael might not know it, but he’s the target of a prayer campaign, one I’ve been waging for four years.”
“Four years? You’ve been praying for that grumpy old man for four years?”
“Sure,” she said easily. “I don’t know God’s timetable.”
A terrible thought struck Dan broadside. Lord, I don’t know Your timetable either. Please tell me that slowly, steadily, surely doesn’t mean four years!
They reached the boardwalk, moved up the ramp, and turned north, the far lights of Atlantic City visible in the distance.
“Oh, look. There’s Johnson’s Popcorn,” she said, just like she’d made a great discovery. “Let’s get a tub.”
He followed her, ordered the big tub, and paid for it. The man behind the counter handed it to Cass who eyed with delight the mound of caramel corn, heaped well above the rim of the tub. The man gave Dan the lid. Cass all but purred as she took her first fistful. They began walking again.
“Think you’ll share?” he asked with a smile.
She wrapped both arms around the container, her expression possessive. “Do I have to?” Then she grinned, her enchanting face lighting up. She held out the tub. He took a handful of the caramel corn, still warm and crisp.
“Dessert,” he said as the rich taste filled his mouth. “Delicious.”
They walked in companionable silence for a while, their only noise the crunch of the popcorn. Dan thought about the things he’d learned about Cass. She was a single woman who had followed her dream—developing, marketing, and running SeaSong. That was quite a feat for anyone. She took in her niece and nephew at no small inconvenience, and she seemed to have most of the family responsibility for watching over her parents.
Their hands bumped as they both reached for more popcorn.
Dan grinned at her. “You�
�re one smart lady, you know that?”
She looked at him in surprise, her skepticism as obvious as the sand on the beach. “What brought that on?”
He watched her for a minute as she ate the popcorn. “You don’t do well with compliments, do you?”
Cass, looking self-conscious, shrugged. “I’m not used to them.”
Dan thought of her family who obviously loved her but treated her with a casualness that bothered him. “Your family doesn’t compliment you very often, do they?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “They love me.”
“Yes, they do, but they don’t compliment you or encourage you, do they?”
Her “no” was such a soft, sad whisper that the wind almost blew it away. She walked to the railing and stopped, looking out at the ocean, at the ripples of white indicating the breaking waves in the night-blackened water.
Dan took the popcorn from her and snapped the lid on. He rested his arms on the railing beside her and waited to see if she’d say more. He counted fifteen waves breaking before she spoke.
“I think a lot of my problem comes from being the youngest. The brothers were always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, teasing me, making my life fun and miserable in equal measures. And they were always so big!”
Dan imagined a little blond girl, ponytail flying, trying to keep up with the big boys, trying to measure up to their standards.
She wrapped her hands around the railing and leaned back, her arms stretched straight. “We were all athletic, playing any sport we could. I was one of the first girls to play in the local Little League. The brothers always told me I was as good as the boys my age or better.” She shrugged. “That was true most of the time because I was always so big, so developed, especially in junior high where the girls mature faster than the guys.”
Now Dan saw a lithesome blonde, legs stretching to the sky, racing down a basketball court, shooting over the heads of the short guys and barreling over the slight ones.
“I hated being so big.” Again, if Dan hadn’t been listening carefully, the words would have been lost, this time in the muted roar of the sea. “If I’d been thin like a model, it might not have been so bad, but I was built then like I am now.”
“What’s wrong with the way you are now?”
She slanted her eyes at him but didn’t answer.
“I happen to like the way you are now,” he said. “I probably would have liked the way you were then, even if I’d needed a stepladder to talk to you.”
“What?”
“I was a runt,” he said. “I hated that. My memory of junior high is turning around and bumping into all the girls’ knees, I was so little.”
Cass stepped back and looked at him in disbelief.
He raised his hand. “True, so help me.”
“Well, you certainly caught up.”
“But not until my senior year in high school. I was five four in September and six two by June. That whole year I never had any clothes that fit, and my legs ached all the time. And I was so skinny they could have put me in one of those pictures for starving children. All I needed was a fly sitting in the corner of my eye. That was undoubtedly the year my mother said I was eating her out of house and home.”
“Did they make fun of you?” she asked in a tone that let him know they’d made fun of her.
“Did they ever. Runt was one of the kinder names.”
“BB was mine.”
He nodded. “Your brother called you that on Sunday. What does it stand for?”
She looked out at the ocean again and cleared her throat before she spoke. “Big Bottom.”
He flinched. “Ouch.”
“Double ouch. My brothers started calling me that when I was about eight. They wouldn’t tell me what it meant for years. They finally confessed when I was thirteen. Thirteen! I was devastated.”
Still are, Dan thought, and he couldn’t blame her. “Next time one of them uses those initials, think of them meaning Beautiful Blonde.”
“Right.” Her tone was dry.
He grinned. “If that won’t work, then tell them to stop.”
Her look was pure incredulity. “My brothers? Stop?”
“Cass, they’re not going to stop seeing you as their little sister until you make them. You’ve got to speak up for yourself.”
She snorted. “A lot you know.” She turned back to the boardwalk and home. “Can I have some popcorn, please?” She took the tub and started walking, the tub tucked under her arm like a football.
He walked beside her, thinking about the intricacies of family.
Sixteen
AS THE WEEK progressed, Cass became so sick of hearing about Derrick she could scream. On the plus side, Jenn seemed to have accepted the restrictions imposed on the date. She smiled a lot, did whatever Cass asked with nary a complaint, and was a genuine pleasure to have around. These signs of what Jenn might become as an adult made all the Derrick gushing bearable.
“Derrick looked so nice today in that bright blue sweater that made his eyes sooo blue,” Jenn burbled as she set the dinner table Thursday. “And he walked me home, Aunt Cassandra! All the way to my corner, and he lives in the opposite direction!”
Cass tried to look properly impressed and was certain she was failing. Jenn didn’t seem to notice, thank goodness.
And Friday evening as she looked at herself in the small mirror hanging on the inside of the door to Cass’s understairs bedroom, Jenn said, “Derrick passed me a note in the hall, and it said I looked pretty today!”
Cass nodded. “You always look pretty, sweetheart.”
Jenn nodded absently as she leaned in to check her impeccable eye makeup. “Thanks, but you’re supposed to say that. You’re my aunt. But Derrick.” The sentence dwindled away as Jenn’s eyes lost focus over thoughts of the object of her affections.
“When do I get to meet this wonderful person?” Cass watched with interest as Jenn blanched.
After a minute of what could only be described as panic, Jenn blurted, “I’ve gotta go up and do my homework. Bye!”
“On a Friday?” Cass called after her.
The bell on the registration desk rang, and Cass put her innkeeper’s welcoming smile back on. She pushed open the door, and there was Dan, luggage in hand, making small talk with the couple waiting to register. He was looking up as he spoke, an experience that must be very unusual for him. The woman was at least four inches taller than his six-four and several pounds heavier. The man was bigger still, though not fat by any means. Just BIG.
“Mr. and Mrs. Patchett,” Dan said to Cass.
The Patchetts smiled sweetly at Cass, their faces open and excited.
“We’ve been looking forward to this weekend for a very long time,” Mrs. Patchett said. “We heard such wonderful things about SeaSong that we waited until we could afford the very best.”
“We’re so glad you can be with us.” Cass returned their smiles, took their credit information, and gave them their keys, all the while disoriented at feeling like a pygmy, and an underfed one at that. “If there is anything we can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Cass pointed to the binder resting on the breakfront in the common room. “That’s the notebook listing all the local restaurants and activities that are open this time of the year.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Patchett said. “Your husband has already been telling us about all the things here in Seaside.” He nodded at Dan who looked only slightly surprised at his elevation to husband status.
Cass smiled through her blush, knowing an explanation of her relationship with Dan would embarrass the Patchetts more than Dan and her. “Yes, he enjoys helping folks.” Besides, how was she to explain a guest who played bellhop?
As the Patchetts turned toward the stairs, Dan looked at her, startled by her comment. “I do?”
“Sure you do,” she said softly. “You’re always helping around here.”
He shook his head like he was having trouble with the idea.
“And I thought I was just bored.”
“Well, there’s no denying that, too, but lots of bored people never help. They gripe. They turn griping into an art form. You don’t gripe. You help. You’ve got the gift of helping.”
He still looked shell-shocked at the thought. “No one’s ever told me that before.”
She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” She grinned. “It means that others weren’t as perceptive as I am.”
He grinned back. “Maybe.” He grabbed the two large duffels and trailed the giants upstairs.
As Cass watched the Patchetts ascend the steps, both of them turning their feet sideways to fit on the treads, she felt something close to panic. These people, nice as they were, were too big for the beds. Even one of them was too big, let alone both of them. All SeaSong beds were queen-sized; none of the rooms was large enough for a king. How would the Patchetts ever fit? How would they ever manage to sleep? How would the beds ever make it through the night?
Reminder: Pray all night that nothing breaks.
Dan came downstairs, a bemused expression on his face. “I have never as an adult felt so small.”
“Did they like their room?” Cass asked anxiously. “Were they expecting a larger bed? The website says queens. So do the flyers.”
“They seemed very pleased. She said the room was beautiful, even lovelier than the pictures. She sat on the bed and said it was very comfortable.”
Cass shook her head. “Dan, you know I’m sensitive to size, being so big myself, and I’m sure the Patchetts are lovely people, but—”
“You don’t think they’ll fit,” Dan finished for her. “I often have that trouble myself.”
“Yes. That’s it exactly. They’re longer than the bed is. They’re wider than the bed is, especially together.” Another terrible thought crossed her mind. “Will the tub and the toilet hold them? What if they crash through the floor and get hurt? What if their weight somehow causes a water line to rupture? What—”
She slid to a stop for two reasons. Dan was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing, and four weekend guests came through the door. After the Patchetts, they seemed like Lilliputians, though Cass was fairly certain they were regular-sized people.
