Postcards from Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “That’s really nice of you,” I told him. “Where’re you going for dinner today?”

  “Dora invited me. I think she’s a little concerned about her son-in-law, so I’ll see if I can cheer her and Marin up a bit.”

  “Yeah, Marin mentioned he’s been sick. I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

  Doyle nodded.

  “Well, thank you for keeping the surprise,” Saxton said. “But I think we need to get Brit here home and settled before we leave for the Hotel and dinner.”

  36

  We got back to my apartment following dinner to find Brit sleeping away in her crate. As soon as she heard our voices, her eyes popped open and her little tail began wagging. I reached down to scoop her up.

  “Aren’t you just the best girl,” I cooed to her. “I’m sure she has to go out. Feel like a walk?”

  “Definitely,” Saxton said. “I could stand to walk off that great dinner.”

  “I know.” I attached the pink leash to Brit’s pink collar. “Wasn’t that heart of palm salad just delicious?”

  “All of it was. All set?”

  I followed him down the stairs, and just as we turned onto Second Street Saxton’s cell phone rang. I could tell by the smile on his face and his voice that it was Resa.

  “Merry Christmas to you too, darlin’,” he said, and I looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, she was pretty surprised. We’re walking the pup now. Berkley named her Brit.”

  My smile increased as I realized he had shared my surprise with his daughter. That made me feel good. They continued talking as we strolled over to City Park.

  He hung up and said, “As you know, that was Resa and she said to be sure and wish you a Merry Christmas too.”

  “You have a great daughter, Saxton. I like her a lot.”

  “I’m glad because I know she likes you.”

  We walked around the park and then back to my place.

  “Tomorrow I’ll come over with Lola so she and Brit can get to know each other. I’m pretty sure they’ll be fast friends.”

  As we walked into my apartment the phone was ringing, and I answered to hear Jill.

  “Merry Christmas, girlfriend. I hope it was a good one.”

  “The best,” I said, and went on to tell her about my ring and Brit.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Jill said. “And I really hate to burst your bubble, but . . . I take it you haven’t caught the news or any weather updates today?”

  “Hmm, no. Why? What’s up?”

  “Well, they’re predicting a blizzard up here midweek. It’s not looking so good that you’ll be flying into Boston a week from today.”

  “Oh, no. Geez. How bad?”

  “Pretty bad. They’re saying over a foot of snow New Year’s Eve into the next day.”

  “Well, we might not have a choice. We’ll probably have to reschedule.”

  “Yeah, I’m really sorry. I know how anxious you are to get up here and figure out the rest of your story.”

  True. I was. But part of me was a tiny bit relieved too. I was beginning to feel more and more uneasy about what those newspapers might contain.

  When I hung up, I filled Saxton in on the news.

  “Gee, that’s a shame,” he said, going to flip on my TV to The Weather Channel.

  We heard pretty much what Jill had just relayed to me.

  “Well, let’s give it another day or so, keep up with the forecast, and take it from there,” Saxton said. “I can always cancel the hotel and we can rebook the flight for whenever you want.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  By the time my aunt arrived three days later, our trip had been canceled. The New England area was getting belted with a good old-fashioned nor’easter.

  “That’s such a shame,” my aunt said as we sat sipping tea in her cottage at the Faraway.

  “Yeah, looks like Mother Nature had other plans for me.”

  Saxton sat beside me with Brit in his lap. “I told Berkley that whenever she wants to go up there will be fine. We’re going to reschedule.”

  “Oh, good,” Stella said. “Now that you’ve come this far with your inquiring, you have to get the rest of the story. Imagine . . . Doyle and my sister.” She shook her head. “I feel bad, though, that the relationship never had a chance to grow.”

  “I know. It really is sad.”

  “And I can’t even begin to imagine what newspaper articles might tell you. What on earth could that have to do with you and your mother?”

  I shook my head. “I’m as stumped as you are.”

  Addi came over to sniff Brit, and I smiled.

  “I think they like each other.”

  “Oh, Addi is very dog friendly. I think she feels like the big sister,” Stella said, as Saxton placed Brit on the floor.

  “I think you’re right,” I told her as I watched both dogs chasing each other around the table.

  “She’s just adorable. I’m really glad you have a dog, Berkley. Addi is my best friend. I just don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Saxton nodded. “I feel the same way about my Lola. Dogs are remarkable with the joy and unconditional love they give us.”

  “Are you going to get her into that reading with the children at school like Saxton does?”

  “I thought about it. Saxton said we can go to Gainesville for the obedience classes. Brit seems pretty bright, so I think she’ll do well.”

  “That’s such a great program,” my aunt said. “I should really look into that in my area. I suppose I could squeeze out a few more days of my week for another activity.”

  I laughed. “I can’t believe what a social butterfly you are.”

  “Hey, life is for the living,” she told me. “May as well take advantage of it and live life to the fullest.”

  “Ditto on that,” I said, thinking my mother was gone much too soon. Before she had a chance to really enjoy it—with Doyle.

  My aunt got up to open the windows in the sitting area. “Such a beautiful day. It has to be in the seventies. Hard to believe a blizzard is going to hit New England. Are all the plans in place for the wedding?”

  “As far as I know. It’ll be held at four o’clock on the beach at City Park and then a reception following at the Community Center. There should be quite a crowd.”

  “I think it’s just great that a couple pushing eighty is taking a leap with marriage. Not that it’s unheard of today, mind you. I just recently read somewhere that a couple in their nineties decided to get married in the nursing home where they resided.”

  “And the thing is, more people are living longer today, so why not?” I said, even though such an official and legal exchange wasn’t something I wanted or needed in my life.

  Saxton reached over and squeezed my hand. “There’s no age limit on love.”

  Precisely, I thought, and that’s what our relationship is all about. The love we share.

  The love that was displayed as Mr. Carl and Miss Raylene stood on the beach proved what Saxton had said. They positively glowed. It was almost embarrassing to see the way they looked into each other’s eyes as they repeated their traditional vows.

  Raylene had chosen an ankle-length dress of soft lavender. She was barefoot, with a purple hibiscus flower clipped to her white hair. Carl, wearing a tan dress shirt and dark brown slacks, was also barefoot. They had chosen the marriage lady of Cedar Key to perform the ceremony.

  I stood beside Saxton and glanced around. Neither Carl nor Raylene had had children, but the large crowd that was gathered was very obviously family to them.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife” was followed by hooting, cheering, and laughter. Somebody had brought a dozen white balloons, and these were now released up into the sky over Cedar Key while the crowd clapped.

  It seemed like most of the island had turned out for the event, and all of us went the short distance to the Community Center to help Carl and Raylene celebrate.

  When everyone arrived and a gla
ss of champagne had been placed in each hand, Carl tapped his glass with a fork for attention.

  Holding his glass up, he said, “I want to thank all of you for coming today to see us become man and wife.” Looking in my direction, he said, “And I want to especially thank Miss Berkley for those magical chocolates that she makes.”

  I knew my face was turning crimson as laughter and clapping filled the room, but if Mr. Carl thought it was the chocolates, it was fine with me.

  A wonderful wedding buffet was set up, and after filling our plates we found a table where my aunt and Doyle joined us.

  “This was such a nice wedding,” my aunt said. “I’m very happy to be here.”

  “I’m glad you could come too,” Doyle said.

  Call me a hopeless romantic, but something in the way he said that caused me to look at Saxton with raised eyebrows. He shrugged, but gave me a smile. Was something going on here that I wasn’t aware of?

  After the meal, the band began playing music. From some of the dance steps on the floor, it was difficult to think so many of the couples were over seventy.

  “Care to dance?” I heard Doyle say to my aunt.

  “I never refuse an offer from a handsome gentleman,” she said.

  My God! My aunt was flirting with Doyle Summers.

  I sat and watched him lead her onto the dance floor, where they proceeded to glide around, perfectly in sync, to a waltz.

  “Well,” I said. “That’s interesting.”

  Saxton laughed. “You’re not being a prude, are you?”

  “Of course not. I just didn’t realize . . . I didn’t know there was an interest there.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything to you after your aunt’s Thanksgiving visit here, but Doyle had questioned me about her. If she was single or seeing anybody.”

  “No! And you didn’t tell me. What else did he say?”

  “He said he thought she was an extremely attractive woman. And I didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything to tell.”

  I nudged him on the arm. “Men! Of course there was something to tell me. That’s very significant, you know. That he finds her attractive.”

  Saxton threw his head back laughing. “You are such a romantic.”

  We both shut up as my aunt and Doyle returned to the table. The next song was a cha-cha, and before I could blink, Doyle had her back up on the dance floor.

  “He’s quite the Fred Astaire, isn’t he?” I said.

  “I believe he’s found his Ginger Rogers. I heard that Doyle has always been quite the dancer.”

  “Well, I’ll be darn.”

  “I’m no Fred Astaire, but care to join me on the floor?”

  I lifted my hand in the air and, with an exaggerated tone, said, “But, of course, my handsome man.”

  37

  The forecasters had all been correct. New England got almost two feet of snow, and the farthest north states of Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont got the most. Great for skiers, bad for travelers.

  My aunt ended up staying on the island a few days longer than she had intended. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was due to Doyle. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask.

  By the time she left, though, it was obvious that some sort of attraction was going on with her and Doyle. He had taken her out to dinner a couple times, and one day they even drove into Gainesville together for a movie.

  Walking down Second Street to Yarning Together for our Thursday night knitting group, I smiled. It was nice when people hooked up. People who enjoyed each other’s company, enjoyed doing the same activities together. This made me feel sad for my mother. She had a chance to have this—but for some reason, she made a different choice.

  I walked into the yarn shop to find most of the women already gathered and knitting away. I was always impressed with the level of expertise they displayed. Flora was working on a very intricate lace sweater for her daughter in the most yummy shade of pistachio green. Dora was working on an entrelac hat in vibrant colors of peach, pink, and lavender. And I saw Grace knitting away on a pink baby sweater that had small white lambs across the top.

  “Hey, good to see you, Berkley,” Chloe said, looking up from a pink basketweave blanket I knew was for her sister’s baby.

  I settled down beside Dora and removed the beige cable mittens from my bag.

  “For Jill?” Dora questioned.

  “Yup. With all that snow up there, I’m sure she can always use more mittens.”

  “But what happened with your trip?” Flora asked.

  “We’ve postponed it till March. Looks like it’s going to be a bad winter up there, and we don’t want to have to cancel again.”

  Flora nodded. “Right. Why give up this gorgeous weather here for snow and ice,” she said, and everyone laughed with agreement.

  “It’s getting to be that time of year again,” Dora said. “We need to start thinking about our vendor’s table for April and the Arts Festival. Any ideas what we should make?”

  “I think the Cedar Key scarves were a big hit,” Corabeth said. “Maybe we should make those again.”

  “I agree.” Raylene took a sip of her tea. “We ran out in practically no time.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Dora said. “It’s such a nice pattern. Okay. If everyone is in agreement, then we’ll do the Cedar Key scarves again this year.”

  “Oh, did you hear?” Raylene asked. “I’ll be leasing my property to Leigh for her day care center.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said. “Where is she tonight?”

  “Said she had a lot of things to get in order. She’s really going to have her hands full getting the property in shape, I’m afraid.”

  Dora nodded. “But a lot of people have volunteered to help. We should set a date on a weekend and we can all pitch in.”

  “I know she’d like some murals done on the walls,” Raylene said. “Maybe we can see if somebody at the Arts Center would be willing to help.”

  “Right.” Chloe reached for another skein of yarn to attach. “We should plan on next month. I think Leigh said she hopes to have her inspection by the state around May and possibly open in June.”

  After an hour of knitting, Dora announced it was time for snacks. “Raylene brought brownies tonight.”

  “I wanted to make something more fancy, but . . . well, Carl and I have been so busy.”

  “Right,” Flora said with a snicker. “Newlyweds are usually pretty busy.”

  The room erupted in laughter as Raylene got up to assist Dora.

  Her face had turned beet red as she stammered, “Oh, no. Well . . . that isn’t what I meant. . . .”

  “Come on, Raylene,” Dora said, pulling her toward the back room. “They’re just teasing you.”

  When we got situated with tea, coffee, and brownies, Maybelle announced that she had some news.

  “You know my goddaughter, Victoria, who I’ve mentioned?”

  “Oh, right,” Corabeth said. “The one you haven’t heard from in so long.”

  Maybelle nodded. “Yes. Thirty years it’s been.” She took a sip of her tea and sat up straighter in her chair. “Well . . . I have heard from her.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said. “Any chance you’ll be getting together?”

  I saw the look of happiness that crossed Maybelle’s face. “There is. Victoria is single with a four-year-old son, Sam. They live in upper state New York, where Victoria owns a needlepoint shop. She said with the economy so bad things have gotten pretty slow, but she’s holding on. Victoria told me she always remembered me, but because of the bad feelings on her mother’s part, she never pursued getting in touch. When Dorothy passed away last summer, Victoria said she felt the time had come for us to reunite.”

  “Such a shame that feud caused Victoria to drift away,” Dora said. “When do you think you’ll see her?”

  “She’s hoping to visit this summer with Sam. It would be so great. She was only ten the last time I saw her.”

&nbs
p; “That’s wonderful news,” Flora said. “I love to hear about people reconnecting. And you and Dorothy couldn’t patch up your differences, huh?”

  Maybelle shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I was certainly willing, but she could be pretty stubborn. We disagreed on something and . . . well, that was the end of our friendship.”

  “What a shame,” Grace said, looking at her sister. “I’m sure glad that Chloe and I were able to get through our differences.”

  “You and me both,” Chloe replied. “Friendships and family are so important. Holding grudges and being stubborn certainly accomplishes nothing.”

  “And you said she owns a needlepoint shop? That’s interesting. I’ve been tossing around a few ideas with Chloe.” Dora winked in her direction.

  “Hey, no holding back,” Flora said. “Come on. Tell us what you two have up your sleeve.”

  Dora laughed. “Well, nothing is definite and it’s all in the planning stages right now, but . . . I’m thinking of purchasing the empty shop next door. Breaking through the wall and adding a needlepoint shop to Yarning Together.”

  “Really?” I said. “I just recently returned to doing some needlepoint. That’s a great idea. Many yarn shops carry both.”

  “Oh, I agree,” Corabeth said. “I haven’t done needlepoint for years, but it would be nice to have a different project when I want something other than knitting.”

  Chloe smiled. “See, Dora, I thought it would be well accepted. And you said that Marin is quite accomplished with needlepoint. She might be willing to help out. I think we should do it.”

  “You could be right. Well, when I get a chance I’ll look into it. The property is listed with Pelican, so we’ll start there and then . . . who knows. This could turn into a very exciting new venture for me.”

  The look on Dora’s face made me hope that she’d be able to make the addition happen.

  Before I left the shop I purchased enough of a yummy shade of ocean blue cotton to knit my required Cedar Key scarves for the Arts Festival, and then headed home.

  As soon as my key hit the lock I heard Brit yipping. I certainly loved Sigmund, but the wagging of a tail and excited barks surpassed a nonchalant feline greeting.