“Fi—” Hannah began, now truly concerned about her younger sister.
“I just want us to have fun, Hannah,” she interrupted. “You saw Logan and Alex together. She’s good for him. When have we seen him like that? So relaxed, not looking like he has the weight of the world, our family, every one of our ancestors, and the entire town of Blueberry Cove on his big shoulders? He’s happy. Truly, and utterly happy. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait for someone to come along like Alex did for him, to help make me understand how important that balance is. You know? So the crazy clothes—and yes, maybe even being out in public in the crazy clothes—is like an in-your-face to everyone who really needs to get a life. Starting with me. And maybe, I think, a little bit, with you, too.”
Hannah sat there in her car, in the parking lot of Fergus’s pub, staring unseeingly out the window as she let Fiona’s fervently delivered speech sink in. “So . . .” she said quietly a few moments later, love and concern tangled up in equal measures inside her head, and her heart, “when did you get to be the smart one? I thought that was my job.”
“How about we take turns?” Fiona said, relief so evident in her tone, Hannah was glad she hadn’t immediately jumped in with the cross-examination questions that Fiona always gave her a hard time about.
“Deal.”
“So . . . you’ll get the gravel for me, Scarlett?”
“Yes, dear.” They both laughed, then Hannah added, “But if you think for one second there will be no consequences to your little ‘Look at me having fun by publicly embarrassing myself ’ gambit, well—”
“I’m okay with that. Just think how much fun you’ll have plotting your revenge,” Fiona said with a laugh, already sounding a little better. Or a little less maxed out anyway. “See? My evil plan is already working.”
“You’ve got the evil part right,” Hannah said, putting the car back into gear and backing out of the parking space. “And I’m calling Owen and having him meet me at the curb. I think I’ve had all the streetwalker-Scarlett fun I can handle for one day.”
Chapter Six
“I appreciate the mayoral insight into the new direction the town is taking,” Calder told Owen Hartley. “And the history lesson.” He leaned his hip on the hardware store counter, thinking he could have saved himself a lot of time and energy if he’d just talked to Hartley first. Brodie had mentioned him as a good source on all the goings-on and he’d been spot-on about that. With a good word from Brodie, Owen had already given Calder a general outline of what was happening in terms of town growth and who the main players were and how they all interconnected. For his part, Owen knew Calder was in town at Winstock’s behest, to take on the construction of the yacht club, and that Calder was hoping to use the deal as a way to open dialogue between the two sides of his feuding family, but was curious as to why Winstock would bring him in, in the first place.
“I don’t know if it will help you any,” Owen said, brushing off the front of his shop apron. He was a slender man in his late forties with ginger hair and glasses, looking far more college history professor than shopkeeper or mayor. But when he talked about the town of Blueberry Cove, or its residents, it was clear he had a deep, abiding love and respect for both, which likely made him very good at both of his jobs. “It’s a complex matter. I will say, you did well, going directly to Jonah. He’d never let you know that, of course, far too proud, but I know the man. He’s fair, cares very deeply for those he’s responsible for, and he’s smart enough to do what’s right. He’s stubborn, but not close-minded, and there is a difference.”
Remembering Jonah’s lecture the day before, Calder wasn’t so sure he agreed with Owen, but he kept that opinion to himself. “You said you beat out Winstock’s son-in-law, Ted Weathersby, for mayor. If you don’t mind my asking, how has Winstock handled things since then? If Ted was formerly the head of the town council and had political aspirations above and beyond the mayor’s office, Winstock can’t have been happy with that result. Given what you’ve told me, it seems reasonable he hoped to use his son-in-law’s influence to help him see his harbor plans through.”
“Oh, no doubt about that,” Owen said, his quiet manner managing to make him seem both honest and humble at the same time. “It’s a good part of why some of the folks here asked me to consider running. Ted has become something of a polarizing figure, and when the former mayor sided with Brooks—Mr. Winstock—and awarded him the property the diner had been on, well, that didn’t sit too well with a lot of folks, either. Brooks and Ted were both surprised when I ran and even more when I won the election—frankly, no more surprised than I was. But while I’ve felt the heat, so to speak, within the council because there are those who still support both men, neither Brooks nor Ted has come at me personally. I can say Brooks isn’t one for dwelling on what’s done—he’s more the type who finds another way to move forward.”
“Kind of odd that a man whose family tree stretches back—what did you say, five or six generations?—that he doesn’t seem to have a strong sense of historic preservation. I could see if he was some recent transplant wanting to bring change, but this is unusual, isn’t it? Speaking from my own experience, anyway, folks around here tend to cling to the past rather . . . stringently.”
Owen nodded and understood Calder’s reference to his own family feud. “Some do, maybe more than some, but I think in Brooks’s case, his motives are more self-serving. He wants to build his own legacy here. I’m just not sure he’s going about achieving it the right way.”
“Do you think there’s something going on with him that’s making him push like this? His health? Family? Money issues?”
Owen shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard whispered about, and I think there would be that and more if there was even a hint of any of those things. I mean, I know he’s been disappointed that his only daughter—Camille—hasn’t given him any grandkids, but I can’t see how that has anything to do with this.”
Owen’s offhand comment hit Calder close to home. Made him think about his own father’s disappointment over his oldest son’s divorce . . . as much because of the potential loss of an heir as anything else. Two of Calder’s three brothers were married, with two kids apiece, all of them daughters, but his dad wanted a Blue to continue on with the family business. So, to him, though he doted on the girls, they didn’t count as Blue heirs. Calder had pointed out that the girls were Blues, too, and might well want to take over the family contracting business one day. And wouldn’t that just solve all your problems. But . . . yeah. Calder refocused his mind on the matter at hand.
“Maybe if Winstock doesn’t have a living, breathing legacy to carry on the family name, he feels he has to put a permanent stamp on the Cove some other way.”
Owen looked a little surprised by Calder’s insight. “You know . . . you might actually be on to something there. I mean, I never gave any serious credence to Brooks’s talk of wanting grandkids; it just sounded like what all people say when their kids marry and settle down.”
“So, is it that his daughter and son-in-law don’t want them or can’t have them?”
“Not sure. They’re both rather . . . self-focused. That doesn’t sound particularly gracious of me, but I imagine the sentiment would be echoed pretty much everywhere you go here. My feeling is the only reason Ted and Cami would have kids was if they thought it would benefit Ted’s political aspirations. They’d have a litter if they thought it would make a difference. And hire a few nannies to handle the rest.”
Calder’s brows lifted. “I see. So, maybe it is a legacy thing.”
“May well be.” Owen half smiled, but looked like he felt a little sorry for them, all at the same time. “Guess if I’d thought more about what split your people apart, it might have occurred to me sooner.”
Surprised, Calder said, “Meaning . . . what? Jeremiah Blue wanted to fish the open seas and stay in the Cove, build on what he and his brother had begun. And his twin Jedediah was more of an e
xplorer, liked to fish, but also liked to hunt and trap, so he set off into the wilds, ended up settling in what would eventually become Calais. Didn’t start up anything as big or lasting as what the Blues have here, but he used his trapping and fishing skills to provide for his family. I think every man—and woman—should be able to follow his or her own path.” He might have said that last part a bit more fervently than was absolutely necessary to the moment, but he sure as hell meant it.
Owen was studying him, listening, but clearly something else was going on inside his head.
“You think Jed should have stayed with the family business here?” Calder asked. “That it was a betrayal to leave? I know it put a strain on what the Blues had begun here and, depending on who is telling the story, could have destroyed it, but while I can see the two brothers having a falling-out, I never understood how it pitted family against family for generations.”
Owen nodded, but didn’t say anything straight off, until finally Calder said, “I’m guessing the Cove Blues have a different telling of that story? That’s fine. I’d be surprised if they didn’t. I’d long since figured each side had to have embellished the wrongdoings of the other to pacify themselves that they’d done the right thing, cutting themselves off so entirely. And for so long.”
After another moment, Owen said, “I think it’s safe to say that a number of the Blue family members here haven’t ever taken the time to hear the story, no matter who’s doing the telling, but have simply followed what they’ve been told to feel, and behaved accordingly. Here it’s about loyalty, and family honor, no explanation required. Do as you’re told, stick by the clan, and you have a place here always. Go against us, then good luck and Godspeed.”
Calder smiled. “Yes, that does have a very familiar ring to it.”
Owen seemed to relax a little, his mouth curving in a faint smile of his own. “Is that how your family feels about you being here?”
“There are . . . varying opinions on that subject,” Calder said, without elaborating. He didn’t need or want to explain that the current generation of Croix River Blues was doing its damndest to start its own divisive feud. He was pretty sure Owen could fill in the pertinent gaps. Speaking of which: “Care to fill in the gaps from my side? I’m sensing there’s something I don’t know that might help me understand.”
“Oh, possibly.” Owen’s smile turned a shade rueful. “Probably.” Concern filtered into his expression and voice then. “But it’s not my place. Jonah should be the one—”
“Jonah has no desire to discuss family with me. He’s made it clear I’m not welcome back on Blue property. I’d appreciate your take. I’m figuring it has to be more objective than Jonah’s is likely to be anyway.”
“Yes, no doubt true. It’s just . . . it’s going to color how you think about things. Knowledge is power, but it’s not always a power that rests easily in the mind, or in the heart.”
Now Calder frowned. “Okay. Now I think I’d really like to hear it.” He lifted a hand when Owen seemed to waver. “I appreciate that whatever the story is, you’re uncomfortable being the one to break it to me. I won’t shoot the messenger. I love my family, and I take great pride in my ancestors, but I’m well aware we’re all fallible. Myself most definitely included. So, I can’t see how I would hold something—anything—that one of our ancestors did a hundred years ago, against any one living member of my family now. And that’s all that matters to me.”
Owen was nodding his head as Calder spoke. “I share that sentiment.” He took a breath, let out a little sigh. “Well, as the story goes, and this comes not only from journals kept by Blue family members, but from the diaries of other townsfolk, some of which have become part of the public record. At least, if a person were so inclined to want to read them, anyway.”
“Something the local historian might have done.”
Owen smiled briefly, still looking somewhat troubled over having gotten himself into this particular conversation. “Indeed,” he said. He paused and Calder was just about to ask him where he could gain access to those journals directly when he continued. So Calder fell silent, and simply listened.
“When Jedediah and Jeremiah had their disagreement, initially Jed wanted to keep the family empire united, but he didn’t want to be tied down to the Cove. He thought of it as branching out, expanding on the empire rather than splitting it. Jeremiah wouldn’t hear anything of the sort. They were fishermen. Period. They’d settled on Pelican Bay to chart their course, and to his mind, that meant building a fishing company. There would be no branches. It would take every bit of blood, sweat, and tears they and their kin had to make a go of what they’d already begun. Each brother felt betrayed, for not having the support of the other. Perhaps as twins, they felt this betrayal more keenly than most, but I’m just supposing there. It was well known they were very, very close and shared a unique bond, so the dissension between them was all the more troublesome and painful.”
“Sounds like that’s in keeping with what I know.”
“Yes, well . . . so Jed ultimately decided to leave and chart his own course. When he did, he took his family with him.”
“Yes, a wife, two sons, and a daughter, as I recall.”
Owen nodded, then sighed a little, not quite meeting Calder’s eyes. “Thing is . . . they were Jeremiah’s wife and kids. Not Jed’s. Well, Jeremiah’s wife, at any rate. There was speculation, of course, about the children’s parentage after that.”
Calder’s eyes widened, then widened some more. He leaned more heavily against the counter. He had no idea where he’d thought this was going, but it hadn’t been this. “So . . . what was their story?”
“Well, Jeremiah was intensely devoted to launching the family fishing business, so much so he dedicated every waking, breathing moment to it. Now he’d always made it quite clear he did what he did for his family, his kids, and their future. Building Blue’s Fishing Company was his legacy.” He looked at Calder. “Which is why your comment on Brooks struck me.”
“So I’m guessing Jeremiah’s wife was tired of being left home to fend for herself and the kids and somehow got tangled up with Jed?”
“Hard to say. Was a long time ago, and if Bettina—Jeremiah’s wife—had a diary, she took it with her. Maybe your side of the family has something along those lines.”
“So . . . okay.” Calder had to take a moment to let that information filter in. “I know divorce wasn’t looked upon lightly then, and if Jeremiah had strong religious beliefs, he could have had even stronger feelings than personal betrayal when his wife left him for his brother. But—”
“Well, as I said, there was some dispute then over whose kids they were. The oldest was only five at the time, the youngest barely six months, but with the brothers identical in appearance, there was no way to know from looks. It was all just speculation. For his part, Jeremiah publicly denounced Jed and his wife, and abdicated all responsibility for the children, claiming they were bastards. But this is where journals from the viewpoint of observers become interesting. Gossip was rampant. From the point of view of the observers whose journals I’ve read, Jeremiah might have denounced his brother, his wife, and his children, but he never stopped loving any of them. In fact, losing them essentially destroyed him. Historically, it’s a fact that he never divorced her, and more than one journal passage noted that he wore his wedding ring until the day he died. But he poured his life and soul into the one thing he had left—the fishing company. Some said he was ‘driven like the devil,’ to quote a passage, to make it succeed as his own form of revenge or validation. He was never the same man. He’d been a hardworking man always, but that pain, the depth of that betrayal, caused him to more or less single-handedly work himself into an early grave. He gave everything he had to build his business and this town, so it’s not hard to see how his efforts could have swayed not just the remaining Blue family kin, but the entire town to take up against Jed and Bettina, and what they’d done.”
“Hard t
o believe no one in town knew about the affair between Bettina and Jed. Given the size of the town, it would seem impossible—”
“Except for the fact that the two men looked exactly alike.”
Calder rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He swore under his breath. “Sounds like a bad soap opera.”
Owen smiled briefly. “Well, it gets more so.”
Calder looked at him in surprise. “I’m afraid to ask. What’s the rest of it?”
“The word that came back this way was that when Jed and Bettina took off and made their way up the St. Croix, they presented themselves as man and wife, and claimed the three kids as their own. The kids might well have been, but Jed and Bettina were most certainly not man and wife, at least not legally. No one there was ever the wiser as far as I know. No telling what they told their children, but they were young enough still that they likely believed Jed was their father. Their only father.” Owen paused, then said, “It’s highly possible that, all this time later, the kin on your side believe Jed and Bettina’s story is the truth. They were a young married couple who struck out on their own with their kids and the Blues here never forgave them. Clearly they didn’t want anyone who was part of their new lives to know the truth for legal reasons, if for no other. I’m surprised they let it be known they had kin back here in Blueberry Cove, but clearly you knew that much.”
Then the real impact of the story struck him. “So, if those kids were really Jeremiah’s, then our entire branch of the family tree would trace directly back—”
“Here. Yes. To Jeremiah. Not to Jed.”
Calder was just shaking his head. Then he chuckled, still somewhat in shock. “All this time, so many years spent reviling the other side of the tree for being so selfish and hateful about not letting Jed and Bettina do their own thing . . . and we all might be direct descendants of the Cove Blues after all. Well . . . isn’t that some shit.” He looked back to Owen. “So . . . you said Jeremiah worked himself to death. He never remarried?”
Sea Glass Sunrise Page 9
