Sunrise on Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “No way!” I said, trying to control my giggles.

  “Yup. He had to be sure the beds had headboards. At first I didn’t catch on, and when I did, I lied and told him we were fully booked.”

  “So you think he wanted the headboard to tie up his girlfriend ?” Chloe was about doubled over with laughter.

  Suellen nodded. “I’m positive he did. Hey, I don’t have a problem with kinky sex, but geez ... not in Miss Dixie’s bed and breakfast.”

  I shook my head, still laughing. Leave it to Suellen to lighten up Chloe’s mood. When I put out the distress call for her to join us at Frogs, she didn’t hesitate, and now it seemed she had managed to bring forth some laughter from my sister.

  Except for one toast to Chloe’s new freedom, Parker, his mistress, and their new addition had not been mentioned at all.

  The band had been tuning up and now launched into a great rendition of Kool & the Gang’s “Celebration.”

  “Did you request that?” Chloe said with a smile on her face.

  “I didn’t. Honest. But it’s certainly appropriate. Come on, sis. Let’s dance,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her up to the small dance floor.

  We laughed our way through all the gyrations, and I knew it had been ages since I’d had that much fun. Making it extra special when the song ended, we got a standing ovation from the other patrons with lots of clapping and hooting. From the look on Chloe’s face, I’d say the evening we’d just shared had been exactly what she needed.

  22

  When the week before Christmas rolled around, I knew we had to start planning a baby shower for Monica. She wasn’t due until March, but the doctor had already indicated the triplets would most likely arrive early. I decided to give Dora a call and see if she might have some suggestions.

  “Good idea,” she told me. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I’ve been so busy trying to do double duty at the yarn shop and with the holidays just around the corner ...”

  “Well, I’d be more than happy to begin arranging something. And I know Suellen and my sister will want to help.”

  “That would be wonderful. I was scared the time would get away from me and those triplets would arrive before poor Monica had her baby shower. Well, first of all, let’s choose a date. I spoke with Monica yesterday. She’d just seen the doctor and it seems she could be delivering in early February, rather than March. The doctor has her on modified bed rest right now, so maybe we should think about having it right after the first of the year. I’d hate to think she could end up on full bed rest and miss her own shower.”

  I reached for the calendar on my desk and flipped the page to January. “Well, how about Sunday, the twenty-second? That will give us a good four weeks to prepare, and it will be the weekend before our first knitting retreat.”

  “Yes, that sounds perfect. Oh, and by the way, let’s have the shower here at my house. I have plenty of room, and we can just fib and let Monica think she’s coming over for Sunday dinner.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Okay, I’ll get with Suellen and Chloe and we’ll come up with a guest list and ideas for decorating and all that stuff.”

  “Let’s make it a luncheon, and I’ll do some crab salad sandwiches and make the cake.”

  “And all of us will pitch in with making other dishes and desserts. Okay then, I’ll get back to you with more details after I get together with Suellen and Chloe.”

  I hung up the phone and sat staring out the window of my upstairs loft. After a few minutes I booted up the computer and typed the words single mothers and sperm donation into Google search. I was astonished at how many pages popped up.

  I was also astonished at some of the statistics. According to Mikki Morrissette, founder of the Minnesota-based online forum Choice Moms, it is estimated that fifty thousand women a year start families on their own. Wow, I thought, I had no idea!

  I went on to read that Jane Mattes, a New York psychotherapist and founder of the support group Single Mothers by Choice in 1981, explained the trend has roots in the 1970s feminist movement, which opened doors to better, higher paying jobs for women and the means to support a family.

  Having never before pursued this line of research, I was amazed at how much information was out there in cyberspace available to women like me—contemplating having a child with sperm donation. When I went to the Single Mothers by Choice website I found a multitude of information available. Members of the group were scattered across the country. According to their site, the average age of members was thirty-five and nearly all had completed college or beyond. The site stated that almost half of the members are “thinkers”—women who have not yet decided whether they want to become single mothers. Well, I certainly fit into that category.

  I read over their philosophy and strongly agreed with number six, where it stated the word choice had two implications. That a woman had made a serious and thoughtful decision to take on the responsibility of raising a child alone and the woman had chosen not to be in a relationship rather than be in one that does not seem satisfactory.

  You would think that would go without saying, but I knew of so many women who married for all the wrong reasons. Although I still wasn’t sure at all that I wanted a child enough to resort to sperm donation, I did know one thing for sure. I was very comfortable with the fact that I was thirty-six, single, and childless. My relationship with Beau had proved to me that sometimes it’s better to be alone than involved in a stagnant or toxic relationship.

  “Well,” I said, as I logged off the computer. “You’ve certainly given yourself a lot to think about.”

  I walked out of the carriage house and found Aunt Maude sitting on her deck knitting. Attached to her needles was a gorgeous pink and white baby blanket. The eyelet lace pattern gave it the quality of an heirloom piece.

  “Oh, that’s beautiful,” I told her, pulling up a chair. “For Monica’s baby?”

  “Yes. I’ve completed a blue one and have another blue one to go. Imagine needing three of everything for an impending birth.”

  I laughed. “I know. Monica may have doubted her mothering ability for a while, but she sure made up for it when she got pregnant. I have two sweaters finished and I’m working on the pink one now. Oh, I spoke with Dora a little while ago and we’ve made plans for Monica’s shower.” I proceeded to fill my aunt in on all the details.

  “That’s great. I know she’ll enjoy that.”

  “I did some research a little while ago. About sperm donation.”

  Aunt Maude looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Did you now?” was all she said.

  “Yeah, I wanted to learn more about it. According to some of the research, ten to twelve thousand single women a year visit a sperm bank. The nation’s largest one is California Cryobank in Los Angeles. Frankly, I was surprised that so many single women have chosen to go this route.”

  “And is this the route you might choose to go?” she asked, continuing to work away on her yarn overs and knit two togethers.

  “Oh ... I honestly don’t know. I think at this point I was more curious than anything. But, I can’t help but think what Suellen said. What if I decide to do this and then ... something serious develops between Lucas and me?”

  “Very good point.”

  “Right. Which means I certainly don’t see myself rushing off to a sperm bank any time soon. I’d have to give this a lot more thought and consider all possibilities. But I can’t help but feel that for a woman who’s done all the research, considered the positives and negatives, is at a place in her life where she’s responsible and financially stable, but Mr. Right hasn’t come along—she has the choice to bring a child into the world and raise that child with love. Even though she’s single.”

  “I very much agree with you,” my aunt said. “Choice is a very valuable asset—an asset that every human being should be entitled to experience.”

  “I always feel good after talking with you,” I said, standing up and placing a kiss on
my aunt’s forehead. “Guess I should get upstairs and feed Annie. Then I plan to have a relaxing evening knitting and watching television.”

  After I got Annie fed, I heated up leftover tuna casserole, poured myself some sweet tea, and was about to sit down to eat when the phone rang.

  “Could I interest you in a nice grilled eye of the round?” I heard Lucas ask.

  I laughed. “If you had caught me fifteen minutes earlier, yes. I was just about to sit down and eat.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I was late closing the shop today, so I just got home. Our local author, Shelby Sullivan, had stopped by to sign some stock and we got carried away talking.”

  “She has another release coming out after the holidays, doesn’t she?” Shelby Sullivan was Cedar Key’s New York Times best seller and lived out by the airport. She wrote romance novels and had fans across the country.

  “Yes, and before I forget, she said we must make a point of driving by her house to see the elaborate Christmas decorations.”

  “Oh, she’s right! This is your first Christmas on the island, so you’ve never seen it. Her home is the one out on the point by the airport. She’s right about the display being elaborate. She does it every year—it’s like her Christmas gift to the island.”

  “Well, then, why don’t I plan to cook dinner for you tomorrow evening and afterward we’ll take a drive over there.”

  “Lucas, you’re really going to spoil me with all your wonderful home cooking.”

  He laughed across the line. “Precisely. That’s what I’m hoping. Come over tomorrow about five-thirty and let me spoil you.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said, hanging up.

  Glancing at the plate of tuna casserole waiting for me, I realized how pathetic my cooking skills were.

  After cleaning up the kitchen, I let Annie out in the yard while I went to find my knitting bag. It was on the desk in my bedroom. I picked up the tote and began to walk out of my room when I realized something was amiss. Where were the two finished baby sweaters? I knew I had placed them in a plastic zippered bag and yet ... they were gone. I opened up the desk drawer and my bureau drawers, and looked around the room. No baby sweaters.

  “Oh, this is insane,” I said, standing in the middle of my bedroom as confusion washed over me. “I know I left those sweaters on the desk.” But they were nowhere to be found.

  I took the tote and walked slowly into the great room. This just couldn’t be possible. Could it? I recalled a similar incident happening to Monica. Items in her house kept getting misplaced. Despite her lack of belief, she had questioned me about the possibility of the spirit of her grandmother, Sybile, hovering about. When she explained the incident, I had a strong feeling that her deceased grandmother could indeed be the culprit.

  So why was I now doubting the possibility that I had a spirit lurking around my apartment? Why was I not willing to consider that somebody could be paying a visit to share a message with me? Maybe I didn’t want to hear what she had to say?

  Great, just great, I thought. Bad enough I might have a ghost invading my space, but my ghost could also very well be a thief.

  23

  The last time I had experienced a wonderful Christmas had been the year before my parents died, but this one was even better.

  The week leading up to Christmas had been busy with parties given by the Historical Society, the Garden Club, and an open house at the bookshop and coffee café that Lucas had hosted. Christmas Eve had been spent with Lucas as we drove around the island delivering gifts to Monica and her family, Dora, Sydney, and Noah. Christmas Day was filled with good food, a gift exchange, and lots of laughter with my aunt, Chloe, Lucas, Suellen, Rachel, and Max. Being surrounded by people I loved was a true gift. What made all of it even more meaningful was having a little boy in our company. Christmas truly is about children, and Max was a delightful addition.

  I picked up the gorgeous white gold bracelet from my bureau and fastened it around my wrist. Cultured pearls were spaced along the strand, and I smiled as I ran my finger over them. Lucas’s Christmas gift to me. I loved it and admired his exquisite taste in jewelry.

  It was New Year’s Eve and we’d be welcoming in a brand-new year together. Chloe and Suellen had opted to attend the dinner and party at the Island Hotel, and Aunt Maude was going to have a quiet evening with Lafitte while she watched television.

  Lucas was due to arrive in ten minutes. I took one last peek in my mirror and smiled in approval. I had finally gotten to Gainesville the week before and done some serious shopping. For tonight, I’d chosen to wear a three-piece, dark green velour outfit—slacks, tank top, and jacket. The gold sandals were perfect to complete the semi-dressy look I was aiming for.

  I walked into the great room and looked around. All seemed to be in order. My small tree on the table glittered with lights. Pillar candles flickered on the fireplace and tables. Pine incense filled the air, and Perry Como crooned a Christmas carol on the CD player. Lucas had purchased French champagne the day we went to Gainesville, and a bottle was now cooling in the ice bucket.

  Annie was curled up at the end of the sofa happily chewing away on a new bone Santa had brought her. With a red bow around her neck, she looked like she belonged on a Hallmark Christmas card.

  I heard a knock on the back door and opened it to find Lucas looking exceptionally handsome wearing a navy blue blazer, open-collared shirt, and dress slacks. He leaned in to kiss me.

  “You look like Little Red Riding Hood with that basket,” I joked with him.

  “My supplies for the feast I’m about to prepare for us,” he said, placing the basket on the counter. He removed his blazer, hanging it on the back of the chair.

  He then pulled me into his arms for a kiss that was more passionate than the one he greeted me with.

  “How nice,” I murmured against his ear.

  He smiled that wonderful smile as he stood back and allowed his eyes to slowly scan down my body. “You look stunning. The color of that outfit is perfect with your hair.”

  Exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. “Thank you.”

  “And I see you’re a very good chef’s assistant,” he said, pointing to the champagne bottle.

  “Oh, yes. I don’t want to lose that position, so I started chilling the champagne a couple of hours ago as you instructed.”

  “Very good,” Lucas said, putting an arm around my waist. “And now we can enjoy the results.”

  He removed the bottle and blotted the bottom with a towel. With the expertise of the finest sommelier in France, he uncorked the bottle without spilling a drop. After pouring the gold, bubbly liquid into two flutes, he passed one to me. Picking his up, he touched it to mine.

  “Here’s to us. I am so very happy these past few months to have you in my life, Grace. You mean a lot to me. Happy New Year.”

  The bubbles in the flute seemed to match what I was feeling—effervescent. I felt exhilarated and alive. “Here’s to us,” I repeated. “And I am very glad you walked into my coffee shop last spring. Happy New Year.”

  We exchanged another kiss and then I perched on the stool as Lucas took over my kitchen. Wonderful aromas filled the room as he prepared shrimp scampi for us. A few minutes later, I removed the rice pilaf and salad from the basket that he’d prepared at his house. I placed the bowls on the table, which I’d covered with a white tablecloth. Lighting the candles I’d placed there earlier, I watched Lucas create his magic and smiled.

  After walking over to the stove, I placed an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “It smells heavenly,” I said, inhaling the aroma of garlic.

  When it was ready we sat down to enjoy our first meal to welcome in a new year together.

  “Bon appétit,” he said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

  “Bon appétit.” I smiled and returned his squeeze. Taking a bite of the scampi, I moaned. “This is superb,” I said, while trying to curtail further moaning. But I did have to admit that Luca
s’s cooking bordered on orgasmic.

  Following dinner, Lucas and I cleaned up the kitchen together. Then I prepared coffee in the French press, which we took into the great room along with the champagne.

  Lucas settled himself on the sofa. I slipped off my sandals and curled up beside him.

  “That was nice,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Ah, but it was my pleasure. I like spending my time with you.”

  He leaned down to brush his lips with mine.

  “I will have to make a trip back to France next year,” he said. “There’s business there that I still have to attend to.”

  My heart fell as a surge of emptiness went through me. I didn’t like thinking about him way over there—and me over here.

  “You have a passport, yes?” he questioned.

  I sat up straighter to look at him and nodded.

  “Good. Then perhaps you will accompany me when I go?”

  “Really?” I could feel the emptiness ebbing away.

  “Yes, really,” he said, laughing. “I think it would be nice for the two of us. I no longer own my place over there, but my cousin, Jean-Paul, he has an apartment in Paris, in Montparnasse, that he lets me use when I’m there. You would like to go?”

  Without a second’s hesitation, I said, “Yes. Oh, absolutely! I’d love to.”

  “Then it is definite. I’m not sure when. Perhaps in October. That’s a lovely time to be in Paris.”

  “I remember. I loved going there in the fall with my aunt.” Lucas may have been reluctant when I’d first met him about us dating and being together, but all of a sudden it seemed like he was attempting to forge some kind of commitment between us. And I liked it.

  “I will enjoy showing you Paris through my eyes,” he said. “And in return, seeing it through yours.”

  I could only imagine how much fun that would be. Standing on Pont Neuf, overlooking the Seine—kissing. Walking the streets of the most romantic city in the world, holding hands with somebody you truly cared about. Sipping wine at a sidewalk café, talking for hours, watching the world go by. How many times had I dreamed of all this?