Somewhere by the Sea

by Verna Clay

  Doris said, "The beach along this stretch is private to the homeowners of Ocean Boulevard. Can you imagine waking up to this every morning?"

  Faith sighed. "It would be incredible. Whoever buys this home is buying a piece of heaven."

  20: Outdoor Market

  A week later, on Saturday, the first day of the street fair, Faith dressed in comfortable beige slacks and a sleeveless blue blouse. She chose dangly sky blue earrings to match her blouse, but decided to forego the long matching necklace since she would be helping Vicky at the museum booth. She grabbed a sweet roll from a basket on the table and poured coffee into a to-go cup. She was going to meet her friend at the museum at eight.

  In the kitchen she could hear the Piersons laughing and preparing breakfast. They were a wonderful family and Faith often felt guilty for not warming up to Jennie's overtures of friendship, but the thought of spending time with her and hearing about her husband and boys, was too much for Faith at this time. She knew she was being selfish, but she just wasn't ready.

  Gabby bustled into the room carrying a vase of yellow roses and set it in the center of the table. In her rapid fire manner of speaking, she said, "Good morning, Faith. My flower garden is terrific this year. I guess you're off to help Vicky."

  Faith smiled. "Yes, and I'm looking forward to it."

  "Good. It'll get you used to being a part of the community."

  Faith didn't respond. Although she had toured a few more homes with Doris, she was still vacillating about a permanent move to Somewhere. Oh, she loved the town and the ocean and the townsfolk, but Baxter's distrust of her motives bothered her. She knew she should dismiss his avoidance and cool demeanor, but it hurt. Was she ready to settle down in a place where she already had a strike against her from one of the natives? Was she waiting for a sign? She said, "These sweet rolls are delicious. Did the Piersons bake them?"

  "Oh no, dear. I learned that recipe from Mrs. Lucky. She and her husband owned Mr. Lucky's Grocery."

  Her words triggered something in Faith's memory that Owen had said. A chill raced up her spine. "Owned? Is the store no longer there?"

  "Goodness, Mr. and Mrs. Lucky died years ago and the property has been sold a couple of times since then. Right now it's a print shop."

  Faith felt faint.

  Gabby stepped closer. "What's wrong, Faith? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

  Faith pulled out a chair and slowly lowered herself into it. With a concerned expression, Gabby pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. "Tell me what's wrong?"

  Inhaling a couple of times, Faith whispered, "The boy at the beach, Owen, told me that you baked cookies and sold them at Mr. Lucky's Grocery. He said he worked there after school helping Mr. Lucky stock shelves. He said he loved your cookies."

  Gabby gasped and placed her hands over her mouth. "Oh, my God, that's true."

  Faith met her gaze and rasped, "What's going on?"

  An hour later Faith was helping Vicky set up shop under a canopy that had already been erected by Mr. Constanzo. As she set out flyers and brochures, she couldn't stop thinking about the revelation Gabby had dumped on her. Was someone playing a sick joke on them? Since she refused to believe she'd had a conversation with a boy who had been dead for more than twenty years, what other explanation was there? She wanted to ask Vicky about her twin brother, but considering how upset she'd been when Faith unwittingly mentioned his name before, that wasn't an option.

  Forcing herself to quell her ponderings and questions, she focused on helping at the booth. Soon, the entire downtown was filled with tourists and locals. The atmosphere became festive and joyful and Faith found herself exuberantly handing out brochures and inviting people to the museum. Around mid morning Mr. Constanzo visited the booth and thanked them for their hard work. "I've seen lots of people carrying the new brochures. Good job, ladies."

  Faith said, "Your museum is amazing and I'm happy to let people know about it."

  While Vicky and Leo spoke about business matters, Faith let her gaze wander among the crowd. Unexpectedly, she saw something that caused the hair on her neck to stand up. Disappearing around a booth several yards away was a boy wearing a blue ball cap followed by a large red dog. Faith made a choking sound and Vicky and Leo stopped talking to glance at her. She was already heading out of the booth and called over her shoulder, "Excuse me. I'll be right back."

  Rushing toward the place where the boy and dog had been, she glanced in every direction, but didn't see them. Damn. Turning to Art in his booth she said, "Did you just see a boy in a ball cap walk this way?" She purposefully didn't mention the red dog for obvious reasons.

  "No. I didn't see a child. Did you lose one?"

  The truthful answer was yes because her son had died. "No. I..." While she struggled to finish her sentence she glanced past Art into his booth and saw a painting that made her forget her train of thought. It was the painting of Owen and his dog.

  The owner turned to see what she was staring at and when he turned back around, he said, "That painting was done by a local. Her name is Vicky Patterson and she runs the museum."

  "Yes, I've met her and we've become friends."

  "Ah." He hesitated. "So you know the history behind this painting?"

  "I understand that the boy's name was Owen and he drowned when he was nine. I heard he was last seen tossing a Frisbee for his dog, but a day later his body and the dog's washed ashore below Stone House. No one is exactly sure what happened but the loss devastated his family."

  "Yep, that's the crux of it."

  Faith stared at Owen in the painting. "I'd like to buy the picture. Will you hold it at the gallery until I can bring you a check and pick it up tomorrow?"

  The proprietor's expression held both surprise and pleasure. "Of course. I'll even give you a gift certificate for fifty dollars off another purchase at my gallery when you're ready."

  "Thank you. How long has the painting been hanging there?"

  With a sheepish expression, he replied, "Three years."

  "Three years! But it's so good."

  "I know. Vicky's other paintings usually sell within weeks." He shrugged. "I guess this one's been waiting for you."

  Faith gave him a startled glance and said, "Because of the sorrow surrounding this picture, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Vicky I'm the one purchasing it."

  Art looked mildly intrigued, but didn't pursue further questions. "Not a problem."

  During the remainder of the day Faith and Vicky took turns watching the booth so they each had time to explore the outdoor market. Vicky had urged Faith to leave for the day, but Faith adamantly refused. She wasn't about to abandon her new friend to hoards of visitors. Throughout the day several locals stopped by to chat. Gabby and Mama Pink were together. Sandy was alone. Taylor was with her sons and three other boys. She introduced the children and said they were neighbors, and Faith's heart did its usual dive. The home she adored was surrounded by boys around the same age her son would have been.

  On the heels of Taylor's visit, Jennie and James showed up with their boys. Immediately after they left, Baxter approached their booth. He moved his gaze from Vicky to Faith, and back. Since his confrontation they hadn't spoken more than a few sentences, and Faith wondered what he'd say if she admitted to seeing a boy and dog today that resembled Owen and Rex, and that she'd purchased Vicky's painting. She had no doubt his accusations would continue.

  Baxter spoke with Vicky for a few minutes and then said, "Faith, did you get a chance to explore the market?"

  She was surprised by his address and stuttered, "Y-yes. Vicky and I took turns watching the booth."

  "Did you try out the deep fried pickles?" A smile tilted one side of his mouth.

  The smile took her off guard and she stammered again. "N-no." She hated being tongue-tied.

  Baxter moved his gaze to Vicky. "Would you mind if I stole Faith away for a while. A day at Somewhere's Annual Street Festival isn't complete without a deep fried pic
kle.

  Vicky grinned. "I agree." She gave Faith a little push. "Off with you."

  As Faith stepped out of the booth, Baxter said to Vicky, "I'll bring a pickle back for you."

  "Thanks, Baxter."

  Baxter held Faith's elbow as he guided her through the throng of pedestrians. Over the past few days his anger had quelled and he felt guilty about the way he'd spoken to a guest of the B & B. She hadn't retaliated in any way and continued to be soft-spoken and pleasant to everyone. If she was a charlatan, she was excellent at covering it up. Her encounter with a boy named Owen and his dog, and later possibly hearing a child call for Rex at Stone House, made no sense, but he was tired of feeling animosity toward her. In fact, he was tired of feeling animosity toward his ex-wife. His mother was right; he needed to move beyond his past, and maybe Faith needed to move beyond hers, too.

  They reached the pickle vender and stood at the back of the line. He cleared his throat. "I'd like to apologize for my behavior. I was horribly rude to you and it was uncalled for. Faith lifted her expressive chocolate eyes to his and his heart jumped.

  She spoke so softly that he leaned forward to hear. "I'm really sorry about upsetting you. And I must confess that I don't understand what's happened. In fact, I've racked my brain to the point of migraines trying–"

  He touched his index finger to her lips. "You're not the one to blame; I am. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?" Her eyes widened slightly before she glanced away. He could tell she was nervous. When she again met his gaze, he said, "My mother told me you're a widow, or I wouldn't ask."

  She continued staring into his eyes, apparently trying to judge his motive, and finally said, "All right."

  The vendor shouted, "Next!"

  21: Dinner

  Faith grabbed a pair of scissors and shortened the strand of hair that was giving her fits. Dampening it and twirling it around her finger, she hoped it would look wispy when it dried. She left the bathroom and sat on the side of her bed, willing the butterflies in her stomach to fly away. She should have refused the dinner invitation from Baxter, but he'd seemed so sincere in his apology and his eyes had been so blue, she'd been unable to turn him down. In half an hour she would meet him downstairs.

  Her gaze shifted to the wrapped painting of Owen purchased at the street fair. No one knew she had it except the art proprietor. She considered unwrapping it, but discarded that thought. She wasn't ready to ponder the strange happenings since arriving in Somewhere. So, instead of twiddling her thumbs for thirty minutes, she decided to continue writing the pirate story she'd been composing since her first foray into the woods. She sat at her desk and opened her laptop. Her hero was a ruthless pirate named Dax who looked like Baxter. She tapped a finger against her chin and decided to improve his moral fiber, and since she was about to send him into the midst of battle with an English clipper ship, what better way than to add chivalry. So engrossed was she in writing a scene between Dax and a widowed Duchess named Lady Charity, that she forgot about the time until there was a knock on her door. Baxter called, "Faith? Are you in there?"

  She jumped up and rushed to open the door. "I'm so sorry! I got ready early and then decided to pass the time by working on a story I'm writing."

  She wished she could take the words back when he glanced past her to the desk and said, "So you like to write? You can tell me all about it during dinner."

  Faith felt her face flame. She could never tell Baxter he was the dashing Dax in her novel. She returned to her desk. "Just let me power my laptop down and then we can go."

  An hour later while they conversed over Crab Louie at Seafood Heaven, Baxter lifted his wine glass. "A toast to whatever you're writing and may it be enjoyed by many."

  Faith had no choice but to lift her glass and touch it to his. She was about to change the subject when he said, "So are you writing poetry, fiction, nonfiction?"

  "Ah, fiction."

  He grinned. "Judging by the way you're blushing, I'm wondering if you write romance."

  "I-I actually have some children's stories in mind," she replied inanely.

  "But this one isn't for children?"

  She gulped her Chardonnay. "No. It's…I guess I should admit its romance." She lifted her gaze to his.

  He was grinning. "My mother loves romance books. You'll have to let her read it when you finish."

  Faith had no inclination to let anyone read her story. It was simply a form of distraction. Instead of admitting that, she said, "It's amateurish and I'd be embarrassed for anyone to read it."

  Their waiter returned to check on them and after he left Faith quickly changed the conversation. "I understand the owner of this restaurant is a relative of yours."

  "Only by marriage. He was married to the granddaughter of Randall Hope. Leo is a nice guy and we get along great. My mother, however, not so much."

  Faith wanted to ask him why and her expression must have revealed that, because Baxter laughed and said, "The whole town knows they don't get along, but no one knows exactly why, although there are many speculations." He grinned. "But just like the speculations of Stone House being haunted, it adds mystery to our town."

  Their conversation during the remainder of the meal was pleasant and interesting and she learned that Baxter was a software engineer who worked via the internet and also dabbled in investments, which explained his ability to spend summers in Somewhere. She was curious as to why he didn't live there permanently, but didn't ask. As for herself, the only thing she revealed was that she had been an elementary school teacher. Then she related funny stories about her students.

  They were pleasantly interrupted when a dessert cart featuring assorted mouth-watering pastries and puddings was pushed to their table by Leo Constanzo. He and Baxter shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, and then Leo shifted his attention to Faith. "Thank you again for helping Vicky at the festival. She calculated that over two hundred flyers were passed out and I expect there will be an increase in customers tomorrow and the rest of the week."

  "It was fun and made me feel a part of something." As soon as Faith said the words, she wanted to take them back. She was sure they made her appear lonely and pitiful, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to feel sorry for her, especially Baxter.

  Leo said, "Well, I heard through the grapevine that Doris and Dave are showing you homes in Somewhere, so maybe you're already a part of the community."

  Faith didn't want to continue the direction of their conversation because, inevitably, it would lead to questions about why she was relocating. She moved her gaze to the dessert cart and pointed to one. "Is that tiramisu?" The conversation was effectively changed.

  By the time Faith finished her chocolate crumble tiramisu and dessert wine, she was stuffed. She hadn't eaten so much in years, but every bite had been delicious. She leaned back in her chair. "Baxter, the meal was fabulous. Thank you for bringing me here."

  "Thank you for accepting my invitation. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in, well, years."

  Faith was surprised by his admission.

  22: Problem

  When Gabby learned that her son had taken Faith to dinner, she was ecstatic, but careful not to show it. "So, I hope you apologized to Faith for your rude behavior about Owen."

  Baxter glanced up from typing into his laptop and replied dryly, "Do you really think I need to answer that?"

  She grinned and plopped across the couch. "No. I know you were a perfect gentleman and profusely apologetic. So, tell me about your date. Unless you took her out of town, I'm guessing you went to Seafood Heaven." She wrinkled her nose, not because the restaurant wasn't fabulous, but because it was owned by Leo. She thought about his recent visit when he'd suggested that she was suppressing romantic feelings for him, and then remembered their kiss from years ago. She wouldn't think about that.

  Baxter said, "Mom, what is it with you and Leo. He's a nice guy and you've known him for years. What's this aversion you have to him?" He stretched and grinned.
"Do you secretly have a crush on him and think it would make dad turn over in his grave?"

  Gabby jumped to her feet. "I do not! And I think that's a terrible thing to say!"

  Clearly taken aback, Baxter frowned and lifted his hands in surrender. "I was only kidding."

  Gabby sat back on the couch and diverted the conversation. "I'm waiting to hear about your date."

  "Don't try to make something out of it. We just had dinner."

  "Did she share anything about herself?"

  "She admitted that the McGoverns are showing her homes for sale and reiterated how much she likes Somewhere. She also said she once taught third graders. That's about it."

  Gabby placed her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin. "That woman needs to unburden herself and what better person than you—a jilted husband. Maybe the two of you can overcome life's challenges together."

  Baxter choked on his iced tea. "Mother! Now you're the one saying terrible things!"

  "Yes, but it's true." She rose to leave, but when she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "If ever there was a match made in heaven, it's the two of you." Baxter glared at her, but before he could reply, she shut the door.

  Later that day, while pulling weeds in the vegetable garden on the kitchen side of the house, she heard a car pull to the curb. Rising slowly from a kneeling position because her knees sometimes gave her trouble, she brushed her dirty hands on her smock and walked to the front of the house. Leo had just stepped onto the pathway and when he saw her, he paused. She wanted to duck behind the house to avoid him, but it was too late. He stepped off the path and walked toward her. "Hello Gabby. Nice day."

  She put her hands in the pockets of her smock. "Yes. They usually are during summer." He stopped in front of her and his gaze made her heart lurch.

  "I need to talk to you about something." His tone was serious.

  "If it's about what you said last time you were here, I want you to leave."