The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge

by Stewart, Mariah

  “But you have a chance to start over here. The people I’ve met all seem to accept you at face value.”

  “That’s because they don’t know.”

  “And when they find out?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I’ll be out of here before next summer, so it isn’t going to matter.”

  “Is this the same woman who was worried last night about people finding out that she lied?”

  “That was in a different context. That was when we were talking about me mining their memories for a book about people they knew.” Ellie shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “That seems actively dishonest.”

  “As opposed to passively dishonest?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So it’s all right to pretend to be someone else as long as things don’t get personal.”

  “What’s your point?” Ellie sighed.

  “My point is that you have to live somewhere, El.” Carly picked up her bag from the floor. “You have to have a life somewhere.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Not saying it would be. But you can’t spend the rest of your life moving from place to place because you’re afraid everyone you meet is going to turn on you.” Before Ellie could respond, Carly added, “Anyway, you’re in a good place here. Whether or not you want to stay, that’s up to you.”

  Ellie grabbed a sweater she’d left on the newel post, wrapped it around her shoulders, and opened the front door. Dune came running at the sound of the door opening.

  “There’s my little friend.” Carly knelt down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. “You behave yourself until I come back, hear?”

  Ellie stepped outside and held the door for Carly, and Dune followed.

  “You know, I’d been envisioning you in a house that was falling down around your head, no heat, no electricity, no running water.…”

  Ellie laughed.

  “Well, you said the house had been vacant at least since your mom died, and that’s been twelve years. I figured it would be a ruin by now. You do have lots to do here, but it’s a house that gives you roots, you know?” Carly stood halfway along the path and looked over her shoulder at the house. “It’s a place your mom loved, and that should give you some comfort.”

  “It does, actually.”

  “Well, if you have to start over, this is the place to be. Lick your wounds until they’re clean, babe. Rechart your course. Move ahead.”

  “You sound like one of those motivational speakers you see on TV.”

  Carly laughed as she opened the trunk. “Some nights when I’m traveling and I can’t sleep, there’s nothing else on cable.” She tucked her suitcase next to a pile of paintings that were carefully wrapped in sheets. “I still can’t believe what we found in your house, and that you’re actually letting me take these precious paintings with me.”

  “If Jesse hadn’t confirmed this morning that they’re really mine, I wouldn’t have been able to. Fortunately for you, Lilly’s will spelled out that they all passed down to my mother.” Ellie opened the driver’s-side door for Carly. “Jesse said Mom’s will specified that all the contents of this house were to go to me, so there we are.”

  “I’ll be pinching myself all the way home.” Carly turned and looked back at the house. “Who’d ever have dreamed that this house held such treasures.…”

  “Certainly I did not.” Ellie looked back as well. “I have to admit this place has grown on me.”

  “Find lots of other cool stuff while I’m gone.” Carly hugged Ellie before getting into the car. “Who knows what other treasures are tucked away in there?”

  “That’s a fun thought that will get me through the winter.” Ellie closed the car door, then stepped back onto the grass.

  Carly rolled down the window. “Where’s the dog? I don’t want her to chase the car.”

  “She’s over on the lawn,” Ellie said. “I’ve never seen her chase a car, so I think you’re good.”

  The big sedan backed slowly toward the road, then rolled past Ellie, Carly waving as she passed. Ellie waved back and watched the departing car for a few seconds before checking the mailbox and pulling out a few pieces of mail. She called for Dune, and wrapping her sweater around her midsection against the cool Bay breeze, went inside.

  The house was as quiet as it had been the day Ellie arrived, as if it, too, missed Carly’s presence.

  “She’ll come back, Dune,” Ellie found herself saying as she went into the kitchen.

  It was too early for lunch but Carly had been in such a hurry to get on the road that there’d been no time for much more than toast and coffee for breakfast. Ellie put the dishes in the sink and reheated the coffee while she looked through the mail. There was some correspondence from her father’s lawyers and a letter with the return address of the prison where her father was serving time. She held both envelopes in her hand for a long moment before tossing them unopened into the trash. There really wasn’t anything he—or his lawyers—could say that she would want to hear. Maybe someday she’d be willing to speak with him, but right now it was all still a little raw. She just wasn’t able to get past what he’d done to destroy so many lives. If he hadn’t been caught, he’d probably still be robbing people blind. It still devastated her to think that her father was not the wonderful man she’d always believed him to be. As painful as Henry’s betrayal had been, discovering the truth about what her father had been doing had been mind-blowing. She hadn’t grown up worshipping Henry.

  She sat at the table staring out the window. Her enthusiasm for the day had departed with Carly. I could start ripping up the kitchen floor, she told herself.

  Then again, she could start painting the kitchen walls. She had to paint the woodwork, too, but couldn’t remember whether the walls or the woodwork came first.

  “Chicken or egg?” she asked Dune, who sighed and rolled over.

  “Walls first, I’d think,” she reasoned. “If you do the woodwork first, wouldn’t paint get on it when you painted the walls?”

  She looked down at the dog, who’d apparently decided it was time for a morning nap. “Of course you would, because you’d be using a roller.”

  She headed for the living room, where she’d left the paint and brushes in the closet, but once in the room, she paused. The space looked so odd with the paintings gone, the walls now naked. The pale rectangles on the wall where they’d hung for so many years reminded her of a photograph she’d seen once, where someone had hung empty picture frames on the wall.

  “Ghost paintings,” Ellie murmured.

  She paused at the bookcase, one of the glass doors of which stood ajar. Carly had started poking around for something to read before she’d found the paintings. As Ellie moved to close the glass doors, her eyes were drawn to the shelf below, where a series of faded red leather volumes were lined up. There were no titles on the spines, so Ellie grabbed the closest one to her and pulled it from the shelf. She opened the book and tilted it toward the window and the light that was spilling through.

  Lilly Angelina Ryder. This is her journal.

  Ellie sat on the arm of the sofa and turned to the first page. Lilly’s handwriting was tiny and precise and in places difficult to read, and even with her reading glasses, Ellie had a hard time deciphering every word.

  Today is my fifteenth birthday, and Rose and I are going to watch the sailboats race. Mother said I could go if Rose’s mother was going, too. I believe she will. At least, I hope she does! Rose’s brother told Rose that T.C. will be sailing with Curtis Enright and she said she just has to be there. It’s no secret that Rose is sweet on Curtis and that Curtis is sweet on her as well. As for me, if I get to see T.C. it will be a happy birthday indeed!

  Ellie smiled. T.C. must be Ted Cavanaugh. Even at fifteen, Lilly knew what she wanted, and from what Ellie’d heard, Lilly and Ted had lived a long and happy life together.

  Her phone rang in her pocket and she placed the journal on the coffee table while
she answered the call.

  “Ellie Ryder.”

  “Ellie, it’s Cameron. I was wondering if you’d be working on that kitchen floor of yours anytime soon.”

  “Actually, I was thinking I’d start on the walls first.”

  “Don’t know that you’d want to do that,” he said. “You’re going to kick up a lot of dust when you do the floor. You’d hate to have to clean those newly painted walls.”

  “So you’re saying I should do the floor first?”

  “I would.”

  “Then I guess I would, too.”

  “I had a crew working on another house in town and they just finished up. I thought I’d drop off a scraper for you.”

  “I didn’t really need one for the pantry floor,” she reminded him.

  “The kitchen floor is a much larger expanse than the pantry floor. I’m willing to bet it was put down with some sort of adhesive and they would most likely have used a greater quantity of it. You’re going to need a tool to scrape it off the floor. I’ll show you how to use it so that you don’t gouge the wood underneath.”

  “That would be great, thanks. I’d appreciate the use of the tool and I appreciate the advice.”

  “How ’bout I drop it off on my way home later? Around four-thirty?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  “Nice of him to call and offer help,” she told Dune after she’d hung up, “but that sort of blows my plans for the rest of the morning and the early part of the afternoon since I was going to spend that time working in the kitchen.

  “Oh, well,” she said as she picked up the journal, “guess I have no choice but to read a little more. After all, why start something now that I’ll only have to put aside later?”

  She toed off her shoes, propped her feet on the coffee table, put a pillow behind her back, and opened the book where she’d left off, at Lilly’s high school graduation. When Dune began to bark at some gulls that had landed on the lawn, Ellie shushed her.

  “Hush, Dune. I’m just at the part where she’s trying to decide whether to go to college or marry Ted that summer.” She peered over the top of the journal and told the dog, “That’s a big decision for an eighteen-year-old to make.”

  When Dune barked to announce that someone was at the front door, Ellie stood, looked out the window, then checked her watch for the time.

  “I had no idea it was so late,” she told Cameron after letting him in.

  “Is this a bad time? Are you in the middle of something?” He stepped inside, then leaned over to pet Dune.

  “Yes, one of Lilly’s journals.” Ellie held up the leather-bound book. “I found a bunch of them in the bookcase.”

  She closed the door behind them and led the way into the living room.

  “I just got to the part where she’s talking about her wedding. She had decided to finish college before she and Ted were married, but then he signed up to fight in World War Two, so they had the wedding before he left. She continued to live at home and she’d finished college by the time he came back.” Ellie reached for Cam’s jacket when he finished unbuttoning it.

  “Miss Lilly taught fourth grade in St. Dennis for years,” Cam told her. “She taught my dad and just about everyone else in his age group.”

  “Really.” Ellie put the book back on the table. “That explains why everyone remembers her.”

  Cam shook his head. “Everyone remembers her because she was such a good person. If anyone in town had a problem, Lilly Cavanaugh was the first person there to lend a hand. Mr. C., too. He was just as nice. People may have known her because of her teaching, but they remember her for the good things she did through the years.”

  “That’s nice to hear. Nice to know that my … my predecessor here in the house was such a good person.” Ellie turned her back to hang up Cam’s jacket. She’d need to watch herself. She’d almost said her relative.

  “She was the best. I never met anyone who …”

  Ellie turned around to find Cam staring at the wall next to her.

  “What happened to the painting?” He looked from one wall to the next, frowning. “What happened to all the paintings?”

  “Carly had to leave and I let her take some of the paintings back with her. That’s why the Porsche is in the driveway but the sedan is gone. She needed to take the bigger car because the paintings wouldn’t fit in the sports car. It’s hers, anyway. The sedan, that is,” Ellie heard herself confess. “She loaned it to me because I don’t have one.”

  “You don’t have a Mercedes?” Was he teasing her?

  “I don’t have a car. Any car. I had the Mercedes because that’s what Carly had to loan me.”

  “That was really nice of her. You know what that baby was worth?”

  “Less than the 911,” she replied.

  Cam nodded. “But maybe not by much.”

  Ellie waited for him to say something, like “Why don’t you have a car of your own?” The answer to which was Because the feds took it when they took my house and my jewelry, my investments, and everything else I owned.

  Instead, Cam said, “Carly did mention that she ran an art gallery. I guess she’s going to try to sell them for you.”

  “Eventually, I suppose. I mean, when she has space in the gallery, I guess she’ll exhibit them.” It was a good time to change the subject. “So what’s that thing?”

  Ellie pointed to the long-handled tool Cam had brought in with him.

  “It’s a scraper. We’ll use it to get the residue of adhesive off the floor after the linoleum is removed.” He tossed her the bag he’d held under his arm. “Here’s a little present.”

  “Thanks. You didn’t have …” She peered into the bag, then laughed. “Rubber gloves?”

  “You’re going to need them if you plan on pulling up that floor and scraping the walls.” He took one of her hands in his and held it up. “Unless you don’t care if this gets beaten up in the process.”

  “Thanks. I should have bought a pair. My hands already look as if they’ve been beaten.” She pulled the gloves out of the box and tried them on. “Just fit.” She held up both gloved hands to show them off.

  “Good.” Cam gestured toward the kitchen. “Want to get started?”

  “I do, and I certainly don’t want to take all of the rest of your day.” She pushed the swinging door that stood between the living room and the kitchen and held it open for Cameron. “I know you’re probably tired from working all day today and playing pirate yesterday.”

  Cameron grinned. “It was fun. Not something you get to do every day, and let’s face it, at some time in his life, every little boy dreams of being a pirate when he grows up.”

  “It’s nice when our childhood fantasies come true, isn’t it?” Ellie laughed again and reached for the scraper.

  “Uh-uh.” Cameron shook his head. “I think I’ll do this part until we see what we’re dealing with here.”

  “I don’t expect you to pull up my floor for me,” she told him. “I thought you were just going to show me what to do.”

  “It’s easy to damage the wood if you don’t know what you’re doing. And you’ll still be pulling up the floor. I’ll be removing the old glue.”

  He scanned the floor, then selected his starting point at the entrance to the back hall. After leaning down to see where the linoleum appeared to be most loose, he donned a pair of gloves and peeled back the flooring to reveal the wood. “Beautiful pine, but a little soft.” He pulled back more of the flooring. “Got something to put the old flooring in?”

  “I have a couple of paper bags,” she replied.

  “We need something stronger and bigger.”

  Ellie made a face. What else was there in the house that she could use?

  “I have a couple of buckets in the back of my truck.” Cam stood the long-handled scraper up against the wall. “I’ll be right back.…”

  She heard the front door open and close, then reached for the scrape
r. It was heavier than it looked, and the blade didn’t appear all that sharp, a fact she noted when Cameron returned with a white bucket in each hand.

  “It doesn’t have to be sharp,” he told her. “If it were too sharp, it would do a real number on the wood. Most of the time, old adhesive is dry and brittle. It only takes a little pressure to pop it off the floor. Much of the time, it’s stuck to the back of the linoleum anyway when the floor is pulled up.”

  He broke off a piece of linoleum and showed her where the glue coated the back.

  “This stuff is really old,” he observed. “I’m betting this floor has been down for at least fifty years.”

  “Well, someone got their money’s worth.” She looked around at the entire floor. “It all stayed down until I started pulling it up.”

  Cam tossed the piece into one of the buckets.

  “How ’bout we pull up some more of the flooring, then you can break it up and put it in the buckets while I work on getting up the adhesive?”

  “I didn’t mean for you to do all this.” Ellie stood in the middle of the floor, a piece of linoleum in her hands. “I really can’t afford to pay you.”

  “You’re paying me in duck decoys, remember? I figure this job is worth …” He seemed to calculate how long it would take him to finish the entire floor. “Maybe half a duck.”

  “Half a duck,” she repeated.

  “Right.” He looked up at the ceiling, which clearly needed painting. “Maybe the ceiling in here and one other room might be the other half.”

  “Or I could sell you the duck and you could have a little downtime. Don’t you do this all day long?”

  “I have a crew,” he said simply. “Besides, the more I do now, the less I’ll have to do later.”

  He looked up from the scraper, which had loosened a clump of black glue, and he smiled. “I still intend on being the highest bidder for the house when you’re ready to sell it.”

  “You know, when it comes to buying a house, the last thing the buyer should do is let the seller know how much he wants the property.”

  Cam shrugged. “That cat was already out of the bag. I told you that the first time I met you. I figure at this point it’s only a matter of when and how much.”