The Guestbook

by Andrea Hurst

  “I bet you are,” Lily said, beginning to laugh. “The xoxo merger, right? Either get out of my way or you leave.”

  He put his arms out to her, his eyes pleading forgiveness. “It’s you I love, Lily, from the first day I saw you.”

  “Right, the first day you saw me and realized what a moldable pawn I would make!”

  “Alright,” he said, pulling out his keys. “Just know, this is your choice.”

  Lily stood in the foyer and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Hands freezing, body rigid, an unreal quality took over as she watched her husband walk out the front door and slam it behind him. The sound of Brad’s Porsche screeching out the driveway sent a quiver up her spine. Her legs gave way as she crumpled onto the cold marble floor. Immobile, she glared at the oversized carved wooden door. Another ostentatious, unattractive, overbearing piece of décor Brad had chosen. It had been alternately her fortress and her prison, keeping her in this false palace, barring both entrance and exit.

  She ripped off her Dior heels and threw them at the door. “I hate these shoes, this house, this marriage…” The long-held tears shook her body. Every accusation Brad had dismissed as her “overreacting” was finally answered with the truth. Why hadn’t she trusted herself and left long ago? She let the tears flow.

  A cool calmness filled her being. She was done here; the certainty of it swept through her body. She rose from the floor and hastened up the spiral staircase to her bedroom. Her red puffy face stared back at her from the mirror. It was streaked with mascara-colored tears from eye to chin. At least she recognized this person.

  She yanked off the clingy dress and laid it neatly on the king-size bed. Beside it she draped the Cartier necklace. The imposing diamond wedding ring would be next to go. She stopped abruptly…this she would keep. It was the only thing of real value that Brad might consider ever truly belonging to her.

  Bending over the marble sink in the master bath, she rinsed off the tears and ran a comb through her hair. She pulled out her travel case and tossed in a few toiletries. The walk-in closet presented overwhelming options: silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, designer jeans. Lily tossed her favorite comfortable jeans, warm sweaters, a pale pink cotton sweatshirt, and a comfy pair of tennis shoes into a suitcase. She added a jacket, some warm boots, a couple of shirts and left just enough room to fit some of her prize knives on top.

  She leaned over her desk and unlocked the side drawer. It was right where she left it a few weeks ago. Grandma Maggie’s will. To my grandaughter, Lily Parkins, it read. Grandma hadn’t even known Lily’s married name, it had been that long. It continued: is the sole heir to the property known as Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast Inn.

  There was a note from her Seattle attorney explaining that Maggie had converted the farm into a successful inn, but that it had been closed for the last year due to Maggie’s poor health.

  Lily thought about her grandma all alone on the island, sick, lonely. Why hadn’t she visited her, or at least called? She’d let fear keep her from what she wanted too long. Flashbacks of a sparkly woman with a wide smile flooded her mind. She could see herself as a young girl, racing her grandma down the grassy path to splash in the cool waters of the Puget Sound. And the batches and batches of chocolate fudge brownies they’d baked together. Often over the years, Lily wished to be back with her grandmother, sharing the old porch swing, picking warm ripe tomatoes right off the vine, not a care in the world. She had no idea if her grandmother would have been receptive after their estrangement, and if her mother would have felt betrayed.

  She placed the will in her purse and took one last look around the room she had slept in with her husband for ten years. Reassured that there was nothing left that mattered, she proceeded down the staircase.

  In the kitchen, the aroma of garlic and rosemary lingered, the only pleasant memory of a gourmet dinner interrupted. Trays of food littered the counters, dirty pans and food-caked dishes filled the stainless steel sinks. There would be leftovers for tomorrow, but she would not be here to serve them. That would probably be the only reason she would be missed. She took her Global knives and slid them into a side pocket of the suitcase, then surveyed her collection of pots and pans. “No, too much to carry…they can be replaced later.”

  On the brass hooks by the back door hung the various sets of car keys. Brad had taken the Porsche. Remaining on the rack were the keys for the Mercedes sedan and the Honda SUV, used mostly by the housekeeper for running errands. The black sedan was certainly not her style. The Honda would do just fine.

  A disparaging laugh erupted as she realized that Brad would have to clean the kitchen on his own. Surely his new eye-candy had no idea how.

  She retrieved her wool coat to ward off the cold, locked the door behind her, and ran quickly through the rain toward the garage. Inside, she threw her bags in the back of the SUV, slid into the driver’s seat, and backed out slowly. Lily took one last look at the big house, all lit up against the dark night. She programmed the GPS for Washington State, clutched the steering wheel, and drove off through the misty rain.

  Chapter Two

  The Washington State ferry cut through the ocean currents much the way Lily was cutting through her life: swiftly, mercilessly, and with a clear destination–Madrona Island. Lily lifted her head to the wind, enjoying the view from the upper deck. A faint silhouette of land emerged through the low-floating fog. She gripped the icy hand railing as the butterflies in her stomach turned to knots.

  Doubt crept in like the morning fog. Have I made the right decision to come here? A ray of sun pierced the clouds and lit the water with a thousand glittering flashbulbs. The lush green of the island shore beckoned in the distance, and the sound of lapping waves called to her. The wet winters in the Pacific Northwest were a whole different experience than sunny Southern California.

  With a sigh of release, Lily lifted her head. She would face this and she would do it, for the first time in her life, alone. A light gust of wind rolled over the deck, bringing with it the familiar scent of sea air. She tightened her wool scarf and dug her icy hands into her pockets. The ferry’s horn blasted, announcing its approach to shore. She turned quickly, almost bumping into a tall, dark-haired man. Their eyes met for a brief second—his intense blue eyes seeming to look right through her. The spark between them was unmistakable. Momentarily stunned, she stared, mesmerized at the striking face before her. “Excuse me,” she managed to get out as her eyes searched the deck for the correct staircase.

  “No problem,” he said, a wide smile crossing his face.

  Lily felt a flush creep up her neck into her cheeks as she fled for the stairs. She located her car keys and escaped the icy wind. “I think I just had a hallucination,” she laughed to herself. “No real man has ever affected me that way before. I’m sure my heart stopped beating.” As she climbed into her SUV, she looked up to see the same man taking the last step down from the deck and turning toward her car. For a moment she thought he was following her, but then he continued past and entered a Volvo station wagon two cars behind her.

  When she looked up, a ferry worker was waving her to exit and she hadn’t even started her car. Fumbling with the keys, she managed to start the engine and exit the ferry onto the two-lane highway. The GPS showed the main highway, which divided the east and west sides of the island. Her gaze drifted out the window to open fields and tree-lined hills. Billowing steel-gray clouds hung low in the sky, and a fine mist dusted her windshield. Hands still frozen, she turned up the heat. This was definitely not the weather she was used to in Los Angeles; it would take some acclimation to be comfortable in this damp, bone-chilling climate.

  Up ahead the stoplight turned yellow and she slowed to stop. The street sign offered two alternatives: Grandview, four miles; Forest Glen, ten. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Grandview was the closest, and if her memory was accurate, it would offer a cozy town and a place for a hot lunch. To the right it was
then. The road narrowed as towering pines and cedars sprang against the backdrop of the dazzling red bark of Madrona trees.

  Lily slipped another CD into the player; smooth jazz fit the mood of the setting. As she entered the city limits, charming older houses trimmed in gingerbread shared the landscape with modern wood homes with massive windows to take advantage of the view. Businesses sprouted up, a realty office in an A-frame cottage, antiques in an old barn. The quaint little town on the west shore proved easy to find. The first view, as she turned on to Front Street, revealed a scene right out of a movie set, turn-of-the-century style. It had been a long time since she’d been here with Grandma Maggie. Her memory wandered to the tall chocolate sodas they use to get at the corner ice cream place. She hoped it was still there. It was somewhere on a back street, if she remembered correctly. Lily passed a hand-carved wood sign with bright letters, Island Thyme Café & Bakery. A large picture window revealed a gift shop adjacent to the café. Perfect for lunch, she thought as she looked for a place to park. She could scout for the ice cream parlor later.

  Front Street appeared to be the main drag, sporting Grandview Bank and the old ivy-covered brick building that housed the Island County Library. The multitude of shops promised local artisan wares and every kind of food from cookies to sushi. She pulled the car over and headed to the café. Along the way, she paused to admire the expansive view of water and horizon clouds in all shades of gray that hung heavily over the peaks of the Cascade Mountains to the east. The drizzle was rapidly turning into rain as the wind picked up and tugged at her jacket. Raindrops dotted her eyelashes. The smell of wood smoke lingered in the air with the promise of a warm fire, so she zipped her raincoat, flipped up the hood, and hurried towards the café. A new umbrella would be top of her list for her first shopping trip.

  The smell of saltwater carried on the wind, but the aroma that spoke the loudest was the whiff of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies as she opened the door to the café and hurried inside. A well-polished antique wood bar covered the entire left wall.

  From behind the counter, a cheerful auburn-haired woman waved to Lily. “Come in and dry out, it’s getting nasty out there.” She snatched a menu. “Can I get you a seat?”

  “Thanks, I would love one.”

  Lily’s eyes washed over the welcoming interior. Just past the old-fashioned bar and down two steps was a cozy dining room with what looked like the original turn-of-the-century oak floor. Tables of every size and shape crowded together in the center with mismatched chairs and tablecloths.

  “Would you like a booth or table?”

  “A booth is fine,” Lily said.

  The leather booth where she now sat hugged the back wall, where a picture window overlooked the bay. The rear of the building hung over the water’s edge. It must have been on stilts, as it gave the café an appearance of floating over a large inlet. Ominous clouds cast shadows over the pale silver water and seagulls dove for fish, their screams filling the air.

  The woman placed a menu in front of her. “I’m Jude and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you something hot to drink first? A latté? Hot cocoa?”

  “Cocoa sounds wonderful, thank you.” Lily leaned back into the cushioned seat, savoring this place of refuge. There were only a few other patrons in the dining room: a man reading the local paper and nursing a mug of coffee, and a couple quietly talking over a bottle of wine. Plants, old photos, and bold oil paintings lined the oak walls. Jude approached with a cup of cocoa topped with a decadent mound of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. The fragrant steam curled up from the cup in a tantalizing fashion.

  “Here you go, should take the chill right out. Are you ready to order?”

  Lily scanned the menu. “What would you suggest?”

  She beamed at Lily. “Well, being the owner and all, I think everything’s spectacular. But let me suggest our special today, homemade potato cheese soup, and a Dungeness crab melt.”

  Lily’s mouth watered. This was a far cry from the chic LA cafés with the small-portioned, no carbs, no fat specials. “That will work!”

  “Good choice,” Jude said. “I’ll have your lunch for you in a jiff.”

  Old 80s soft rock played in the background, and a fire sparked and smoked behind the glass door of the wood stove. The heavy weight sitting on her shoulders began to dissolve. She leaned back and enjoyed the next few songs as she savored her hot chocolate. She’d made it here, and not even Brad had gotten in her way. She should just stay in this café forever.

  Jude bustled over to her table with a gracious smile and placed the tasty lunch before her. “Just let me know if I can get you anything else. Okay?”

  Lily shook her head no. Already stuffing the fragrant sandwich into her mouth, all she managed to get out was a muffled “thanks.” Pure comfort food, just what she needed right now. And the owner seemed friendly. The house was only ten minutes away, at most; she could make this a regular spot in her new routine. Although, with all these carbs, she couldn’t come too often or her new life would also require a new wardrobe.

  She was just laying down the fork when Jude approached the table with a dessert menu. Lily looked up and felt instantly comfortable in the warm rays of Jude’s smile.

  “Save room for dessert today? Our fresh-baked, square-shaped chocolate chip cookies?” Jude asked.

  “I don’t think I could take one more bite, but I will take one of those cookies to go.”

  “Only one?”

  Lily considered the ice cream store again but decided it could wait for a warmer day. “I’ll take two. Do you have them every day?”

  Jude pulled out her business card. “Our hours are on the back. Hope to have the cookies every day, but I’m afraid I’m not the best baker and our chef is due to have a baby in a few months.”

  Lily extended her hand and shook Jude’s hand. “My name is Lily, and I guess you could say I’ll be living here for a while. Your place is my first stop before I head over to Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast.”

  “Madrona Island?” Jude said. “Why, they’ve been closed for a few months now.”

  “I know, I heard. My Grandmother Margaret Parkins used to own it, and now I suppose, it’s mine. I haven’t seen the place since I was about nine years old.”

  Jude’s eyes lit up. “You’re Maggie’s granddaughter? Why, she talked so much about you. I know she would be real pleased to know you’re going to be taking over.”

  “Oh no, I’m not taking it over, I’ve just come to stay for a while. Actually, I’m really not sure how long I’ll be anywhere right now, and I just…” Lily could feel her throat tightening and tears threatening. Why was she telling this perfect stranger so much about her life?

  Jude gave her a hug and reassuring pat on the back. “Well, you’re home now, and a lot of people will be looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Home,” Lily murmured. “Thank you.”

  “You just let me know if you need anything…promise?” Jude said heading over to the counter to bag up a few cookies.

  “I may just take you up on that offer,” Lily said.

  Jude returned with a bag of cookies and placed them on the table. “A small housewarming treat for you, on me.”

  “You don’t have to…”

  “I want to,” Jude said.

  Lily took out her debit card and paid the bill at the bar.

  “Don’t be afraid to drop in on your neighbors, Betty and Shirley. Those ladies would be more than happy to come by and help you with whatever you need.”

  “Ok. Great place, great food, I’ll be back.”

  Jude walked with Lily to the door. “I sure miss selling your Grandma’s baked goods in the cafe, especially those addictive brownies. They had quite a following.”

  “I remember them from when I was a little girl. I hope I can find the recipe.”

  “Well, let me know. Be seeing you soon.”

  Lily’s heart felt as full as her stomach.

  ✦✦✦✦
>
  The sky showed signs of clearing as Lily wove her way out of town to the main island road. She followed her highlighted map and made the left turn on Sunshine Lane. Interesting name. There sure isn’t much of that right now. The road narrowed and veered right toward the water, passing a dormant apple orchard. Fields of wild grasses in hues of browns and reds lined the sloping hill on the other side. As she made the final turn, the muddy road swept down, offering a picturesque view of the yellow and white Victorian farmhouse nestled among the gently inclining acres that finally touched into the blue-green waters of the Puget Sound.

  The wheels of the car splashed through the puddles in the driveway and slowed to rest at the log barrier. She was here. It felt more like being in a dream, some surreal experience. Once out of the car, she watched as the sun broke through the dense clouds in long, thin rays, spraying a silver and gold reflection over the water. The house picked up the beautiful yet eerie glow emanating off the Sound, and the pale yellow paint took on a quality of spun gold. The cedar trees surrounding the pond whistled in the wind, and a flock of birds took noisily to the sky.

  She could only stare and wrap her arms about the bulky rain jacket her mother had given her. This magical place had always been her refuge as a child, a place she now hoped would help her find what her heart desired. The sun was dipping below the barely visible peaks of the Olympic Mountains, tinting the sky with vivid shades of orange. It would be dark soon, and yet the idea of going into that house alone almost had her turning back to town. Opening her purse, she pulled out the envelope Grandma’s lawyer had sent with the will, and removed the key. The letter spoke of a caretaker, Mary, who had been keeping the house clean and watching over everything these past few months.

  She opened the hatchback of the Honda and grabbed some of her things. The rest could wait until the morning. The wraparound porch was exactly the same. The wind rustled the old porch swing, and its familiar creak brought memories of sipping cold lemonade on a warm summer afternoon and watching breathtaking sunsets at dusk. As Lily walked up the wooden steps, memories whirled—laughter mingled with shouting arguments, being ripped away by her mother from this favorite place.