by Terri DuLong
Then I heard another male voice. “Maybe we should get her away from here for now. I have the golf cart. Why don’t we go over to the bookshop for some coffee?”
Swiping at my tears I looked up to see Lucas Trudeau speaking to Aunt Maude.
“Brilliant idea,” she said, grabbing my elbow and steering me to the vehicle at the curb.
“Call me when you feel ready,” I heard Jim say as Aunt Maude settled herself on the backseat and Lucas got in beside me.
It wasn’t until I was comfortably seated in a deep cushy chair following a few sips of rich, dark coffee that my brain seemed to resume working.
I glanced at Lucas and Aunt Maude sitting across from me. “Great coffee. I better watch out or you’ll put me out of business.” I let out an exaggerated chuckle. “Oh, wait! I am out of business.” I could feel moisture filling my eyes again.
“I was so terribly sorry to hear about the fire,” Lucas said. “If there’s anything at all I can do to help you, please let me know.”
I saw the concern on his handsome face. “Thanks, but I’m not even sure what day it is, let alone what I’m going to do.”
“Well, today is Friday,” Aunt Maude said with a note of determination in her tone. “And what you’re going to do is first things first. We’re both booked for tonight and tomorrow night at the Faraway Inn, so we have a roof over our heads. When you feel up to it, Jim said that they’ll assist you with trying to salvage what you can from your apartment. And then ... well, we’ll take it all one step at a time.”
Leave it to Aunt Maude to be sensible, but I failed to find any comfort in her words. The knowledge that I’d lost both my livelihood and my home was all that I could focus on.
“I’m serious about my offer of help. This isn’t an easy time for you.”
Although he spoke fluent English, I still heard the French accent in his speech and recalled the day six months before when Lucas had walked into my coffee shop for the first time. With those dark curls in a longer-than-conventional length, the olive skin, mahogany eyes, and knitted scarf circling his neck in a way that only the French can master, he had oozed a certain je ne sais quoi that I rarely observed in American men.
“Thank you,” I told him, and it was then that I noticed my surroundings. Lucas had done a wonderful job of having the bookshop restored. The walls had been painted a buttery yellow, adding a warm glow to the rectangular room. Just below the ceiling a border print of large, vivid sunflowers looked down on me, with oak wainscoting circling the middle half of the walls. The cushy chair I sat in matched the other three, and all of them formed a cozy circle around a coffee table displaying some nonfiction books. But the major change was the archway that had been added when the wall had been broken to allow more space.
I rose and walked toward the archway, exclaiming, “Oh! Lucas, you’ve done a magnificent job with the restoration.” I peeked into the new room. This space was a large, empty square, and I saw lots of potential.
“I’m glad you like it. I still have a lot of work with this extra room, but at least I can be open for business.”
Aunt Maude came to look and said, “What are you planning to do with it?”
Lucas shook his head. “I’m not quite sure yet. I have a few ideas, so we’ll see.”
I swept my arm out toward the bookshop. “Your decorating is perfect, Lucas. I really love it. The ambience you created is ideal for book browsing.”
“That’s what I was hoping for, so thank you.”
I took the final sip of my coffee and let out a deep sigh. “Well, I think we should be going. I know there have to be a million things for me to tend to.”
Aunt Maude put her arm around my shoulder. “And that’s why you have me,” she said with affection.
“Thank you,” I told Lucas. “Thanks for rescuing me from my meltdown on Dock Street.”
He laughed, and once again I realized what a killer smile he had.
Just as we reached the door, he said, “I was wondering ... I mean ... I know you’ll both be busy getting settled in, so ... would you like to come to my place some evening for a home-cooked meal?”
Before I even had the chance to consider, I heard Aunt Maude say, “Why, Monsieur Trudeau, that would be wonderful. I never turn down a meal prepared by a Frenchman. Merci beaucoup.”
Lucas laughed again. “How about Monday evening? Would that be convenient for you?” he asked, looking directly at me.
“Ah, yes, I think so,” I said, waiting for Aunt Maude to say something. Which she didn’t. She simply stood there with a devilish grin on her face. “Yes, I’m sure our social calendar is free.”
“Great. Is eight o’clock okay?”
“Perfect European time for dinner,” Aunt Maude said. “Now, will you be so kind as to give us a lift back to the Faraway? We dropped off Lafitte and Annie at our cottage and walked over to Dock Street.”
“Absolutely. My chariot awaits,” Lucas said, as we followed him to the golf cart.
Annie lay curled up on the bed as I unpacked my piece of luggage. It hit me that the clothes I’d had with me in Brunswick were the only clothes I owned at the moment. It was obvious from what I’d seen that all of my other ones had burned to a crisp. This brought on a fresh flood of tears just as my cell phone rang. Blowing my nose I saw Suellen’s name on the LED.
“Hey, girlfriend,” I said.
“I know this is a really stupid question, but ... how’re you doing? I wanted to make sure you arrived there safely. Have you gone to assess the damage yet? I’m so worried about you, Grace. Are you okay? I mean, is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come there and help you?”
Just hearing Suellen’s voice made me feel a little better. “No, no, you don’t need to come. And ... I’m okay. The building is pretty much a total loss. We just got back from there.”
“Well, you don’t sound okay, and who would be? What a terrible thing to happen. I still can hardly believe it.”
“You and me both. But really, I have Aunt Maude, and somehow I’ll get through this.” I let out a deep sigh.
“Well, sugar, if you need anything, anything at all, you be sure to call me. You know I can be on that little island in four hours. Okay, I have a busy weekend at work, but I’ll call you Monday evening.”
“Oh, Aunt Maude and I have been invited to dinner Monday evening.”
“That’s great. Somebody being neighborly?”
Knowing full well what Suellen’s reaction would be, I still decided to be honest. “Well, I guess you could say that. It’s Lucas Trudeau who invited us.”
I heard an intake of breath on the line, and then Suellen said, “Well, girlfriend, you don’t waste any time, do you? Good for you! Getting hooked up with a good-looking guy like that will do wonders to help you through this crisis.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Suellen, it’s not like that at all. He knows the situation with the fire and Aunt Maude moving here and, well, he’s just being nice. That’s all it is.”
“Right. A drop-dead handsome Frenchman invites you to his home for dinner and ... he’s just being nice. Okay, sugar, if that’s what you want to believe.”
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to believe, but I knew the days ahead weren’t going to be easy, and if Lucas offered to cook a meal for my aunt and me—well, who was I to decline?
“Suellen, you really need to stop reading so many romance novels.”
“My point exactly. So when a really nice fellow comes along, who just happens to be exceptionally good looking and has a sexy French accent, then, Grace Stone, you need to sit up and pay attention.”
I laughed again. “Give it up. It’s just a dinner. With a chaperone.”
“Right, sweetie. Whatever you say. I’ll call you next week. Love ya.”
Shaking my head, I clicked the disconnect button on my cell.
“She’s a hopeless romantic,” I said out loud, causing Annie to pop her head up and look at me curiously. Sitting on t
he bed I began stroking her head. “Well, girl, we’re in quite a predicament, aren’t we? Here we are—our home is gone, I have no job, no clue where I’m going from here, but we have each other. And for right now, that’ll have to be enough.”
Annie edged closer to me, whined, and licked my hand.
3
When I opened my eyes Monday morning, it took me a minute to orient myself. Although it wasn’t what I’d woken to for the past ten years, the room still had a comforting and homey feel to it. The furniture that had sat in my bedroom in Brunswick was now arranged in the second-floor apartment of Coachman House.
A new box spring and mattress had been added when I’d returned after graduating college, but the same thick, scrolled, mahogany headboard was behind me. My glance scanned to take in the large matching bureau, vanity, desk, and bookcases.
My plan for the day was to get the drapes hung and the rest of the apartment in a livable condition. Right now boxes consumed a lot of the space. The digital clock that I’d unpacked the day before read 6:42. As I stretched and yawned, Annie jumped on the bed to greet me.
“Good morning, girl. See, I told you we wouldn’t be homeless. Come on, let me get the coffee going and I’ll bring you outside.”
The bedroom I’d chosen was the larger one with attached bathroom at the back of the house. The hallway led to the second bedroom and bath, which looked out onto F Street. I peeked in to see the futon and bureau the movers had placed there yesterday. A bit skimpy right now, but it would be the perfect guest room for Suellen’s visits.
Turning right off the hall, I stood and stared at the large, open great room that flowed back to the kitchen and dining area. Sunlight streamed through the picture window that dominated the far wall of the kitchen, giving a view of the deck and garden below.
Like the guest room, these rooms also looked empty. A black leather sofa and matching chair were all that occupied the great room, but the focal point was the intricately carved fireplace on the outside wall. I walked over to run my finger along the beautiful oak mantel, feeling the indentations of scrollwork done by a carpenter many years ago. I was immediately transported to the fireplace in my aunt’s parlor. As a child, I loved to touch the wood surrounding it, feel the solidness and stability. A sense of serenity enveloped me, but I swung around quickly because I could have sworn I wasn’t alone in the room.
Only Annie sat there patiently waiting to be taken outside. Get a grip, Grace, I thought. You haven’t had those types of feelings since you were twelve.
Walking into the kitchen, I pushed the button on the coffeemaker that I’d prepared the night before.
I opened the door that led out to the deck and inhaled the clean, refreshing smell of the Gulf. “Come on, Annie. You don’t need a leash, because you now have a fenced yard.”
She followed me down the steps and promptly began sniffing around. I stood there taking in the overgrown garden, knowing how much Aunt Maude would enjoy bringing it back to life. Situated in the center was the old carriage house. Both Coachman House, which had been named for Ben Coachman, a previous owner, and the carriage house had been built between 1870 and 1884. Although the house had been totally renovated seven years before, it had been vacant for the past few years. The structure of the carriage house was sound, but the inside would need an overhaul if my aunt planned to do anything with it.
I turned around to the sound of her voice.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I said, smiling as my aunt passed me a mug of coffee. “And what time did you get up? Four o’clock?”
My aunt laughed. “Not quite. Five. I’ve been busy unpacking and trying to get organized. I hope I didn’t wake you with any noise.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Are you kidding? The walls in that place must be three feet thick.”
“Actually, the exterior and interior walls are fourteen inches thick. That’s the beauty of old houses. They were built for quiet and privacy.”
I nodded, looking at the back of the house. My aunt had an identical deck below mine, and the large windows not only gave a feeling of welcome but allowed the house to be bright and airy inside.
“I still can’t believe you bought this place. I’ve loved it from the first time I ever came to Cedar Key. There was just something about it—maybe a pull to the past. I don’t know, but I’m thrilled that you now own it, and I feel pretty fortunate to be living here with you.”
“I always loved this house too. When I’d come to visit you and stay at the B and B, I’d walk over here and just stand on the sidewalk staring at it. I think I always knew I wanted to be the owner. I had even gone downtown to the library to find out the history on it. It’s a fine example of Greek Revival townhouse form, and of course it’s only one of the two surviving tabby houses on the island. I was always impressed with the fact that this house was built with burned oyster shells, sand, lime, and water. You’re just like I am, Grace. You’re drawn to the mystique of old houses. Ah, if only these walls could talk.”
This reminded me of the feeling I’d had in the great room. “Hmm, I wonder if it comes with a resident ghost,” I joked.
My aunt’s expression turned serious. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” she said. “Now, how about a nice hearty breakfast to start your day?”
“Oh, no. Just because I’m living upstairs from you, I don’t want you catering to me. I’m a big girl now. There’s no need for you to be cooking my meals.”
Maude smiled. “I understand, but you have to indulge me on our first morning here. I was going to whip up some omelets, sausage, and grits.”
I laughed. “Guess I can’t refuse that,” I said, following her into her apartment with Annie close at my heels.
“Oh, your kitchen looks great. Gee, it looks like you’ve always lived here. You’ve been working hard.”
I looked around and saw an oak table with four chairs placed against the half wall separating the kitchen and a proper dining room, which was the only difference between the apartments.
“Are you just going to leave the carriage house empty?” I asked, sitting at the table while my aunt began preparing breakfast.
“Well, I’m not sure. I’ve given some thought to maybe opening a small business.”
“A business? Another antique business like you had with my parents in Brunswick?”
“No. As much as I always enjoyed that, I knew when I closed my shop five years ago that was the end of my antique business days.” She paused for a moment while pouring the omelet batter into the fry pan. “I was thinking along the lines of knitting.”
“Knitting? But Monica owns the yarn shop in town, and you must realize this small town doesn’t warrant two of them.”
My aunt laughed as she turned from the stove. “Yes, I realize that. But I was thinking about offering weekend knitting retreats for women.”
She definitely had my interest. When it came to this craft, my aunt and I were avid, addicted knitters. I couldn’t remember a time that Aunt Maude wasn’t working on one project or another, and I still recalled my excitement when she’d given me my first pair of needles and a skein of yarn when I was eight years old. She had patiently taught me the basics, which then enabled me to also become a proficient knitter.
“That sounds great,” I told her. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not quite sure,” she said, stirring the grits. “My plan is still in the early stages, but I was thinking about doing some major advertising, especially on the Internet. There’s been such a renewal for knitting lately and there’s a lot of knitting websites and blogs. We now have large knitting conventions across the country, all kinds of knitting groups at yarn shops, and as much as I love the act of knitting, I think part of the renewed interest is because it’s something that brings women together. An activity that allows them to relax, talk, get to know each other, probably even share secrets. So why not have a place for them to gather for an entire weekend, on a beautifu
l island, surrounded by quiet and Mother Nature? A place that will offer them a getaway to just come together as women, friends, sisters, whatever.”
“Oh, I love it!” I said, feeling the sadness of the past few days being replaced with excitement. “That’s a fantastic idea. So you’re thinking of using the carriage house as a knitting workshop or studio for the women?”
My aunt nodded as she placed our plates on the table and sat down. “Exactly. It will need some refurbishing but not any major work. We have a lot of various lodging on the island, so they would do their own bookings for accommodations. But the carriage house has a bathroom and even a galley kitchen. So we could offer a luncheon, which would be included in the price for the weekend. I was thinking about getting with Monica and Dora. If the women don’t bring their own yarn, perhaps Monica could give them a bit of a discount if they purchased it there at Yarning Together. And maybe we could get Dora to help us if we offered advanced classes on knitting. But most of all, it would be two full days for women to bond and connect.”
“I’d say you’ve already given this quite a lot of thought, and I have a feeling it would be wildly successful.” I took a bite of my aunt’s delicious grits. “I’d be more than happy to help you in any way I could.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m not very computer literate, I’m afraid, but I know enough to realize how important an online presence can be. I could really use your help in setting up a website, maybe even a blog, and getting the word out with some advertising.”
“Absolutely,” I said, my excitement notching up another level. “Oh, and Facebook. I’ll set up a page on there, which will help in getting the word out.” I took a sip of coffee as another thought occurred to me. “How about if you also include a Blue Moon ceremony on the final evening? You know, like Dora and Sybile started years ago.”
My aunt nodded. “I remember Sydney and Monica telling me all about that during one of my visits here. They had the final one just before Sybile passed away, and from what they said, it certainly was a means to bring Sydney closer to her mother and daughter.”
