Now he went over and stuck his head in the still open door. “I think you should have water now, ladies.”
“Yes!” Louise called back. “I can hear the toilet filling.”
“You are a miracle worker,” Vivian told him as she came to the door. “I’d invite you in for a cup of tea or something, but as you can see we are rather Spartan just now. Still, you will take a rain check, won’t you?”
“Absolutely.” He pointed to the darkened fireplace. “I could build you ladies a fire to take the chill off of the place, if you like.”
Vivian looked hopeful, then frowned. “Except we have no firewood.”
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be back with some,” he said.
“You are a dear boy!”
He grinned, wondering when the last time was that anyone had called him “boy,” as he hurried back towards his house. Then, feeling like a Boy Scout, he gathered kindling, newspaper, and firewood. Piling them into the canvas firewood carrier he’d recently purchased at the hardware store, he headed back.
“There you are,” said Louise as she opened the door for him. “Our guardian angel.”
He set his bundle on the hearth, using the mini flashlight he’d pocketed, then peered up into the dark chimney. “One thing I learned the hard way,” he explained, “is to always open the flu before you start a fire.”
“Yes,” said Louise, “that’s usually the best way to do it.”
It took a few minutes and a couple of false starts, but he eventually got the fire crackling and snapping. Then he turned around to see that the sisters had put together a nice little indoor camp, complete with two nylon camping chairs, sleeping bags, and a few other necessities.
“Very cozy in here.” He smiled with approval.
“It almost seems a shame to ruin this ambience with real furniture,” Vivian said sadly.
“You’ll be singing a different song come morning,” Louise said. “I know my arthritis will be screaming by then.”
Vivian sighed. “Hopefully not.”
Louise turned back to Blake, clasping his hand in both of hers. “Thank you so much for your help, Blake.”
“Yes,” Vivian agreed. “Please know you are welcome at our campfire anytime.”
He smiled. “Thank you both. Now I will leave you ladies to your little campout.”
But before he could leave, Louise asked him to write down his phone number. “Not that we plan to bother you,” she assured him.
“No problem. You feel free to call if you need anything,” he said.
“I do think I might adopt him,” Vivian said to Louise.
“You and me both.” Louise grinned at him. “In fact, I can hardly wait to tell my Janice about you, Blake Erickson.”
“Pleasant dreams,” he called out as he closed the door. Feeling amused, he cut back through the grass again. Vivian was probably right. At this rate, they would wear a trail between their houses. Perhaps he’d even cut the grass and make the trail easier to navigate for the older women.
As he went into his house, he wondered again about Louise’s daughter, Janice. They say you can judge a daughter by the mother…and Louise was nice enough, although perhaps not as attractive as her sister. But she certainly had energy and spunk—especially considering her age. He surveyed his messy “bachelor’s pad” again. He’d enjoyed being a hermit, but maybe it was time to clean up his act now. For all he knew, he might even do some summertime entertaining before long—maybe even for someone beyond elderly women.
He was stuffing a pile of dirty laundry into the washing machine when he heard the phone ringing. He’d gone ahead and installed a landline as a backup to his cell phone. But only a limited number of people knew that number—and it was close to midnight. But perhaps it was Vivian and Louise needing help with another problem.
“Hello?” he answered curiously.
“Blake!” His ex-wife’s tone was sharper than usual. “We need to talk.”
“Gia.” He kept his voice even. “What’s up?”
“It’s Sis,” she said curtly. “You’re going to have to take her for the summer.”
“Take her?” He tried not to sound overly sarcastic. But it was ironic that Gia was acting as if he hadn’t been pleading with her for weeks, even months, to have Sicily come visit him in Martha’s Vineyard.
“Yes. Gregory is having a rough go with Alexandria and Victoria right now.”
“Oh?” Blake controlled himself from saying “I told you so,” but he had specifically warned Gia that Gregory’s daughters might be a problem. After spring break the girls’ mother had gone into a treatment program, landing them in their father’s Malibu house.
“Alexandria and Victoria used to be such nice girls,” Gia was saying. “But they’ve turned into these monsters. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. And having them and Sicily…well, it’s a mess, Blake. I can’t deal with it.”
“It’s called adolescence,” he told her. “It can bring out the worst in a kid. Fortunately, it won’t last for long.”
He didn’t mention that the last time he’d seen those two girls they were downright rude to their father. At the time he’d reasoned that was simply what happened when you ignored kids for too long. Exactly why he felt a Hollywood upbringing wasn’t healthy for most children. And why he wanted to have his daughter spend more time with him—and why he’d agreed to this house swap with his director friend Lincoln. To get Sicily away from there. He and Lincoln had agreed to a two-year swap to start with. Blake had come out here with high hopes of having Sicily here for summers and holidays…perhaps full-time. At first, Gia had been completely amicable to the whole idea, even encouraging him to take the plunge.
But before long, his plan had backfired. Shortly after relocating, he regretted his hasty decision to trade houses with Lincoln. Gia’s attitude drastically changed right after he made the move. She’d grown increasingly cool and aloof, not to mention difficult. One time she actually accused him of abandoning his own daughter and talked about pressing legal charges. Whether her bad temper was Blake’s fault or symptomatic of her troubled marriage and dysfunctional life, he couldn’t be sure. But he’d felt extremely concerned for his nine-year-old daughter. And tonight Gia seemed to be confirming that concern as she ranted on about how bad things were in Malibu.
“Now Sis is starting to act out,” Gia continued. “She’s acting like a spoiled brat. All week long she’s been picking fights with Alex and Vic. She thinks she should have the same privileges as them. And she’s always trying to compete with them. It’s like she’s nine going on sixteen. I can’t take it anymore, Blake. You have to do something!”
“I’m perfectly happy to bring Sicily out here,” he assured her. “Want me to arrange for her flight?”
“Oh, could you?”
“Absolutely. How soon can she be ready?”
“How soon can you book a flight?” Her voice oozed eagerness.
He looked at his desk calendar. “How about Monday?”
“That’d be great—if you can get it set up that soon.”
“Do you think that’ll give her enough time to get ready and everything? Don’t forget, Monday’s only two days away.”
“If you can get a flight by Monday, I promise you she will be on it.” Gia made what sounded like a relieved sigh. “And I didn’t mention it before, Blake, but I just got a small role on a TV pilot—it’s a cop show. They start filming next week and I thought the girls would help watch Sicily while I’m at work. But then the three of them got into it this afternoon. And when Gregory got home, late as usual, Alex and Vic threw these dramatic little hissy fits. Obviously for their father’s sake. Let’s just say, it got pretty ugly around here.” She lowered her voice. “Gregory’s girls are so spoiled, Blake. Gregory gives in to everything. He doles out money and gifts like that’ll fix everything. But it only makes them act worse. Talk about entitlement. And I’m afraid Sis is going to end up exactly like them.”
“Oh, I’m sure Sicily
won’t be overly influenced by them, Gia.” He remembered the last time he’d spent time with his daughter: Easter weekend, a couple of months ago. Sicily had been a little lady when he took her to church with him, and then she’d had nearly perfect manners afterwards when he’d taken her to dinner at a friend’s house in Laguna. It had been an amazing day, and he had the photos to prove it. “Sicily is a sweet and thoughtful little girl,” he assured his ex-wife. “Her bad-mannered stepsisters can’t change that.”
Gia let out a jaded-sounding laugh. “Just so you know, Blake, your little darling might not be the same angel you thought she was. Don’t forget, you haven’t been around Sis these past couple of months.”
“No…no, I haven’t.” He wished she wouldn’t talk like that. He hoped Sicily wasn’t listening.
“All right then, let me know about the flight. And don’t forget to let the airlines know she’s a juvenile traveling alone. My best friend Cynthia sent little Leo to visit his dad in Connecticut last month and the poor kid messed up his connection in Denver. He ended up in Cincinnati instead. It was a total disaster.”
“I’ll have my travel agent handle the arrangements,” Blake assured her. “In fact, if we can’t get a direct flight, which could happen since it’s summer, I’ll fly out and meet her at her first connection and see that she gets safely—”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Sis will be just—”
“I want to do that, Gia.”
“Okay,” she snapped. “Fine. But it’s a total waste of money.”
He wanted to tell her it was his money and he could waste it if he wanted to, but this was getting too close to sounding like an argument. He didn’t need that. “So I’ll let you know then,” he calmly told her.
“You won’t let me down, will you, Blake?”
He wanted to ask her when he’d let her down before. At least since the divorce anyway. He knew he’d let her down a few times during the marriage. Workaholics did not make good spouses. “No problemo, Gia,” he said lightly to her. “And, hey, congrats on the new pilot. A cop show sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it will be,” she gushed. “It sounds like a network is already serious about picking it up. Judging by the script and the cast, I’m guessing it’ll be a hit.” She continued with industry talk for several minutes. Once again, he was reminded of what he’d left behind…what he did not miss. Even so, he pretended to listen patiently as he turned on his laptop and started preparing an e-mail to his travel agent, explaining what he needed and when.
“Well, I gotta go now,” Gia chirped at him. “Thanks for being so willing to do this for me, Blake. I really appreciate it.”
“Happy to help out.” He inserted a smile into his voice. An act, perhaps, but an act he would gladly put on for the sake of Sicily’s well-being. Because, as usual, the conversation was mostly about Gia, and he knew the best way to keep Sicily’s life smooth was to simply play along. If his forced congeniality helped get Sicily out of LA and out of harm’s way, it was well worth it.
His heart ached to think of his little darling being corrupted by the influence of those two teenaged girls. He felt sorry enough for the older girls, but there wasn’t much he could do about their situation, other than to pray for them. He’d been praying for that whole family for a while now, ever since he’d finally returned to the faith of his boyhood last winter. As he turned on the washer, he realized that God really must’ve been listening, because it looked like he was about to get his daughter back—even if only for a summer. He just hoped that Sicily wouldn’t be too upset about being plucked from her home and getting shipped off to the other side of the country.
Chapter Three
With her letter of resignation in her bag and high hopes in her heart, Waverly walked into the Art Institute, still rehearsing the little speech she’d been preparing in her head during her commute. Her plan was to go directly to Geoff, present him with her letter, and honestly explain the situation. At first she’d been reticent to give up her job. She knew it was unwise to let the security of tenure and benefits go. But just as she’d lit a match to her shredded-up vision board last night, she decided it was time to burn her bridges here as well.
Her goal was to get out of Chicago, once and for all. Hopefully she’d prove herself to her mother and aunt in Martha’s Vineyard and would carve herself a place to stay. Before long they would discover how much they needed her to run their art gallery.
It was the first time since losing Neil that she’d felt this certain about anything. Maybe she was delusional or desperate, but she felt confident she could do this.
“Very interesting,” Geoff said quietly after she’d finished her spiel.
“Interesting?”
“Yes, it sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you, Waverly.”
“Oh, yes…it is.”
“But the interesting thing is that my niece is just graduating, and she approached me for a job in this department.”
“Really?” Suddenly Waverly felt a little concerned. Was he already filling her job?
“Yes, but I told her we had nothing. And you know I had to lay a couple of people off last summer.”
“I know.” She nodded, remembering how thankful she’d been at the time that her name hadn’t been on that list.
“So, if you’re really serious about this change, maybe I’ll give Darcy a call.” With her resignation letter still in hand, he peered over his glasses at her. “I see that you gave two weeks’ notice in here, but would you want to make it just one week?”
“One week?” She blinked.
“I’m not trying to rush you,” he said quickly. “Feel free to take two weeks if you need it.”
She thought hard. “No, no…one week would be fine.”
He stood now, reaching to shake her hand. “It’s been great having you here, Waverly. You’re a diligent and hard worker. If you ever need a letter of recommendation, please feel free to ask.”
She smiled nervously. “I don’t think my mother and aunt will be needing anything like that.”
“No, of course not.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Say, what about your apartment? Any plans to sublet that?”
“I had hoped to find someone…or somehow break my lease.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Darcy might want to look into it.”
Waverly brightened. “That would be wonderful.”
She quickly wrote down the terms of her lease, the address, and some other details, along with her phone number.
“That’s a handy location,” he said as he looked at the paper. “I suspect Darcy will be very interested.”
So it was that, by the end of the week, everything had fallen neatly—or somewhat neatly—into place. Darcy was thrilled to get the job and the apartment. And the super promised to get the AC fixed, although he was taking his sweet time about it. However, Waverly was distracted by her long to-do list. She spent the next five scorching evenings packing up her things, sorting out what she wanted shipped to Martha’s Vineyard, which would be picked up on Monday, what she wanted to store, and what she wanted to donate to charity. By Saturday night she was nearly finished—and exhausted. And by Sunday morning, Chicago’s record-breaking heat wave ended. Naturally, it was that afternoon when her air-conditioning unit finally got fixed.
“Leaving the Windy City to run off to Martha’s Vineyard, are you?” the super asked as he put the metal faceplate back over the AC unit.
She smiled. “Yes. My mother made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
He nodded. “Yeah, hard to turn down a mother.”
She pointed to the miscellaneous boxes and bags of things piled near the front door. “All that is for Salvation Army to pick up,” she explained. “I’d like to put it outside my apartment on Monday, if you think it would be all right.”
He frowned at the stuff. “Giving all that away?”
“Yes. I already stored a lot of things. Everything else in my apartment will go into the moving
van and be shipped to Martha’s Vineyard.” Of course, even as she said this, she felt nervous. She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to do this. But then she reminded herself, this was like taking a step of faith. God had opened a door, and it was up to her to walk through it.
“Looks like a lot of good stuff in there,” he said, still studying the piles.
“Help yourself to anything you like,” she told him.
He bent down and started to pick through her old things as if on a treasure hunt. “Tell you what.” He slowly stood up. “Why not let me take care of it for you?”
“I’d love that,” she admitted.
“I’ll take a few things, give a few things away, and then I’ll see that Salvation Army gets what’s left. Deal?”
She nodded eagerly. “Deal.”
“Well, you have a good time in Martha’s Vineyard,” he said as he shook her hand. “Always heard it was a swanky place. Didn’t the Kennedys live there?”
“I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I haven’t had time to do much research on the area yet.”
“I ’spect you’ll learn plenty about it once you get there,” he told her. “When do you leave?”
“The moving van comes on Monday, and my flight’s on Tuesday.”
“The new renter’s scheduled to come in the end of the week. That’ll give me just enough time to do a little painting and cleaning in here.” He peered around. “Although it looks like you kept the place pretty clean.” He grinned, exposing a gold front tooth. “Pleasant surprise too. Most people leave these apartments in a mess. ‘Spect I’ll be giving you most of your deposit back.”
“Well, you have my forwarding address,” she reminded him.
He gathered up a couple of the bags and promised to return directly to get more. After he left, she looked in wonder around the room. It was still hard to believe she was actually doing this. Even harder to believe how quickly everything had fallen into place. Almost as if God truly were putting His blessing on it. At least she hoped so.
She sat down on the old leather club chair that used to be Neil’s favorite and wondered what he would think of her hasty departure. Knowing Neil, he’d be asking her what had taken her so long. No doubt she would have his blessing too.
Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard Page 3
