by Diane Moody
“Hey, Olivia?”
She’d grown accustomed to the simple familiar question asked in that same quiet, endearing tone. A mix of words and emotion all wrapped up in a sweet Ellen package. She smiled at the thought. “Yes?”
“I love you, girlfriend. And I’m praying for you to have the time of your life these next few weeks or however long you decide to stay away.”
“I told Cliff—”
“I know you told your boss you’d be back by the first of March, but I still don’t see why you don’t just quit.”
“Because it’s too much to think about right now. My head’s still spinning from all this. Even the attorney advised me not to make any rash decisions right now. I need to think through all of it and make sure I do this right.”
“Fine, okay. But promise me you won’t short-change yourself by thinking you have to be back by a certain date. Don’t be marking days off a calendar like there’s a big deadline looming over you. If you never set foot in that bank again, life as we know it will still go on.”
“We’ll see.”
“I hate it when you say that.”
“I know. That’s why I say it.”
“Promise you’ll call me after you check in the Captain MacVicar?”
“I promise. Ellen?”
“Yes?”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, Olivia.”
The hour and a half drive from Boston to Caden Cove passed quickly. The rental’s temperature gauge showed 23°, which explained the snow still covering the grassy areas. When Ellen first suggested Maine as a possible destination, Olivia thought she’d lost her mind. Then, after Ellen reminded her of the trips she and Brent had made to Caden Cove over the years, she warmed to the idea. The quaint bed and breakfast inn. The off-season quiet and serenity of the tiny oceanside town not far from Kennebunkport. The perfect place for a person to “find her bearings” after an incredible life-changing bolt of lightning.
Olivia tried to think analytically about her unexpected windfall, but it wasn’t easy. She’d always been the sensible one. Dependable. Loyal. Generous. Kind. Considerate. All admirable and complimentary adjectives she’d heard over the years from friends and coworkers. But after a lifetime of self-imposed caution, she couldn’t help the wisps of adventure whispering through her veins.
The call to her boss had come easy. “I decided to take a long overdue vacation. I’ll be in touch.” He hadn’t argued. In fact, he’d applauded her for finally doing something so out of character.
She shook off any remaining thoughts of work or obligations and tried to focus on what might lie ahead. Granston had offered advice on her new-found wealth, wisely suggesting she take out a small portion for the time being then let the rest of it earn interest while she decided what she might do. Beyond the personal retreat she’d planned in Caden Cove, she didn’t have a clue what she might do or where she might go. But even in the quiet of her rental car, she had to admit she was excited.
So many possibilities! Tuscany. New Zealand. The south of France. The Swiss Alps. How many hours had she spent browsing the internet as she dreamed of international destinations? How many travelogues had she watched on the Discovery Channel, promising herself to one day pack her bags and go?
And now, what was to stop her?
She stretched out a kink in her lower back. What was to stop her? The same thing that always stopped her. She dreaded the thought of traveling alone.
Ellen might join her if they planned far enough ahead. Between family responsibilities and her job as a marketing executive, it was difficult for her to get away. Difficult, but not impossible. Over the years, they’d taken several getaway trips on weekends, a couple of cruises, and even a few mission trips to hurricane-ravaged areas like New Orleans and Haiti. Ellen was always fine the first day or so until she started longing for her home and family. Which curtailed recent trips to overnighters, and to destinations only a few hours away.
It wasn’t as if Olivia only had one friend. She knew lots of people, mostly fellow church members. But she’d learned the hard way there was nothing worse than taking off on a trip only to grow weary of her travel companions after a few hours on the road.
But maybe it’s time to live a little. Take some chances. Step out of my comfort zone and meet some new people or even travel alone. Who knows, I might even meet someone special along the way . . .
The quirky little nerve in the pit of her stomach stomped a river-dance on her courage. Granston had warned her of men who might charm her right out of her last penny if she wasn’t careful. At first, the implication felt like an insult. But with each story he shared about others in similar situations, she began to understand his warning and take it to heart. She had no living relatives, but she vowed to be diligent to guard not only the crisp new bills in her account, but her heart as well.
The one thing she was sure about was the opportunity to give generously to several different missions and charities. She’d always tithed to her church and sent donations to a handful of ministries, but Winthrop’s gift would enable her to give on a whole new level. She planned to spend time these next few weeks researching causes she might help financially.
Taking the exit off I-95, Olivia felt her heart beat a little faster. The stately homes and quaint scenery seemed to welcome her despite the gray clouds and chilly temperatures. Following the GPS, she drove down the two-lane road onto State Road 9, made a few more turns, then slowly pulled up in front of the Captain MacVicar Inn.
The 185-year-old home was even more beautiful than the pictures on the inn’s website. According to the online description, the home was built in 1827 by Captain Jonathan Wade MacVicar for his fiancée Catherine. Since he was often away at sea for months at a time, he had invited other members of Catherine’s family to live in the home along with their spouses.
Thankfully, the home had been upgraded and preserved through the past couple of centuries, promising a comfortable stay for its guests. As Olivia walked up the snow-cleared stone pathway to the entrance, she noted the classic Federal design of the two-story home, its black shutters framing windows against walls painted a dark blue. The bright stars and stripes of Old Glory waved from the stoop.
As she walked through the heavy front door, a waft of cinnamon and coffee greeted her. She noticed the rich hues of the hardwood floors beneath her, though a scattering of Oriental rugs and runners softened her footsteps. The old wooden planks creaked alerting her to someone’s approach.
A thirty-something woman appeared from around a corner. “Good afternoon!” She wiped her hands on her black pin-striped bib apron and reached out her hand. “I’m Michelle, and I’m guessing you’re Olivia Thomas?”
Olivia shook her hand. “How did you know?”
“Easy. You’re our only arriving guest this week. I’m Michelle Myers; my husband Trig and I are the innkeepers of the Captain MacVicar.”
Olivia pulled off her gloves. “Your only guest? Well, I guess that makes sense for the ‘off-off’ season.”
Michelle slipped behind the long, high desk. “Don’t let that spoil your visit. In fact, I always tell our winter guests they’re the smart ones. It gets pretty hectic around here during the spring and summer months. February is nice and quiet, as long as you don’t mind the cold.”
“I love snow! I’m from Atlanta, so it’s a nice change.”
“Well, then, you’ll enjoy your visit with us.” She navigated her computer with a wireless mouse. “Yes, here you are. And we have you down for three weeks, correct?”
“That’s right. I hope I don’t wear out my welcome.”
Michelle smiled as she tapped the keyboard. “Not a chance. We’re glad you’re here. But I promise we won’t hover. We’re here if you need us, but we won’t intrude on your privacy. Okay, three weeks takes you through . . . the end of the month?” She paused for a moment, then glanced at Olivia, a trace of something flickering through her eyes.
“Yes, that’s m
y plan. Is there a problem?”
“No. No. No problem at all.” She cleared her throat and focused on the monitor again. “That would be through the twenty-ninth, right?” A brow lifted, though Michelle’s eyes remained on the monitor.
“Yes, the twenty-ninth. I hadn’t realized this is a leap year.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Michelle eyes stayed glued on the monitor. “And, according to your reservation, you requested a . . . room for one? Single?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
An awkward silence hung between them, as if Michelle was waiting for some further explanation.
How strange. “Yes, I’m single. That’s me, all right. Single.”
Michelle slapped herself on the forehead. “Oh, no, please—forgive me. I didn’t mean—no, I only meant . . . I’m sorry. It’s just that for a moment there—”
Suddenly, Olivia realized what was going on. She nodded knowingly, scoffing a laugh at her own misunderstanding. “You think I look like Martina McBride. I get that all the time. Though most people tell me I look more like Martina’s ‘heavier, older sister.’ Which I find a bit tacky, but I don’t take offense. Actually, I consider it a compliment. But for the record, we’re not related. I’ve never even met her. Love her music, but that’s as far as it goes. And trust me, you do not want to hear me sing.”
Michelle narrowed her eyes then tilted her head, studying her. “Martina McBride, huh? Well, now that you mention it, I do see the resemblance.”
Olivia’s brows drew together. “So, you mean you didn’t—”
Michelle waved her off. “Never mind me. Must be those fumes from cleaning the oven this morning. Forget I—well, forgive me. I’m not usually so flighty.” She flashed a smile and turned to retrieve a key from a locked cabinet on the wall behind her. She paused, holding it mid-air before slowly turning back around. “You reserved the Catherine Room. It’s very nice but since no one else is here, you’d be more than welcome to stay in the Carlton Suite.”
“Oh, that’s very kind, but I’ll be fine in the Catherine. The minute I saw the picture on the website, I knew that’s where I wanted to stay.”
“But it’s really no trouble to—”
“Thanks, but the Catherine is perfect for me.” Olivia took the key from Michelle’s hand.
Their eyes locked briefly. Olivia wondered if she was checking into the Bates Motel instead of a bed and breakfast.
Michelle started to stay something then snapped her mouth shut and smiled. “Sure. No problem.”
The innkeeper gave her a brief tour of the inn then helped Olivia with her luggage, apologizing for her husband’s absence. Once in her room, Olivia hung her coat in the armoire and looked around the room. The Catherine was lovely, tucked beneath a vaulted ceiling with windows on each side of the far corner. Flames flickered in the gas fireplace warming the room and its cozy setting. A puffy white duvet covered the four-poster queen-size bed. A blue and white quilt lay folded across the foot of the bed. A collection of needlepoint pillows dressed the head of the bed and beneath, a generous bed skirt made of blue and white ticking reached the long distance to the floor. She was glad to see a step stool beside the tall bed, hoping she wouldn’t forget and come crashing out of bed in the middle of the night.
Soft lamplight dotted the room. A floor to ceiling bookshelf flanked the wall in the small area near the fireplace. Beside it, an overstuffed chair nestled in the corner offering the perfect place to get lost in a good book. On the small table beside it, a cut crystal vase held three hydrangeas in muted colors complementing the room’s blue and white palette.
She peeked through the wavy-glassed windows which Michelle told her were the originals. The notion filled her with awe, thinking back on the vast history that had taken place since 1827. America was still young when the cornerstone of this house was laid. I wonder what these walls might tell me if they could talk.
As she continued wandering through the room, Olivia trailed her finger along the fireplace mantel until she noticed an exquisite glass box sitting on the right side. Inside it, a blue and white teacup and saucer. Interesting. Did they decorate the room to match the cup? Or did they find a teacup to match the room? It was a familiar pattern, like dozens of other blue and white transferware designs. She leaned in for a closer look and even tried to open the box only to find it sealed shut.
Well, that’s odd. It looks like a thousand other cups you’d pick up at a flea market or yard sale. And even if it was worth something, they surely wouldn’t put it in a guest room. She made a mental note to ask Michelle about it later.
Then, feeling sleepy, she kicked off her shoes and climbed up onto the bed to rest her eyes for a while. Relaxing into the luxurious softness, she pulled the duvet over her and fell sound asleep.
Chapter 4
“Good morning, Olivia. Did you sleep well?” Michelle greeted as she entered the small dining room.
“Apparently so. After I checked in yesterday afternoon, I thought I’d just rest for a few minutes before unpacking. Would you believe I didn’t wake up until four this morning?”
Michelle laughed as she set a mug of coffee on the table. “That’s music to our ears. We love for our guests to relax and unwind. Good for you!”
“Then you must hear lots of good music.” Olivia took a seat at the table set for one. “I can’t ever remember sleeping that long.”
“Even better! Oh, let me introduce you to my husband. Trig, this is Olivia Thomas, our guest from Atlanta I was telling you about.”
The tall and lanky young man joined them, placing a small basket of miniature muffins on the table. His tousled brown hair, kind eyes, and ready smile on his handsome face reminded her of Ellen’s son, Billy. Trig wiped his hand on his apron and extended it toward her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Thomas.”
“And you as well, but please call me Olivia.”
“Olivia it is. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived yesterday afternoon. I was helping a friend move. I trust Michelle helped you get settled?”
“Yes, and the room is perfect. Just perfect.”
She caught a brief glance between the two innkeepers as she reached for her coffee. A ribbon of yesterday’s strange encounter with Michelle flowed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed the memory.
She set her cup back in its saucer. “Oh my goodness, this coffee . . . it’s amazing. What brand do you use?”
“You like that?” Trig asked. “It’s my own blend.”
“It may just be the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. What’s your secret?”
“A little this, a little that,” he teased. “Can’t be giving out the Captain’s secrets, now, can I?”
She reached for a muffin. “Guess I’ll have to have a word with your Captain.”
“By all means. He’s buried out back, but you’re welcome to pay him a visit if you like.”
She slowly set the cinnamon muffin on her plate. “You mean, Captain MacVicar is actually buried here?”
A lopsided grin slid up his face. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. All our guests are live ones. Most of them, anyway.” He chuckled as he tightened the ties of his apron. “I’m making omelets today. Any requests? Any allergies?”
“No allergies. How about cheese and bacon?”
“Excellent. Mind if I throw in some minced onions? Maybe a few diced peppers?”
“Even better!”
“Enjoy your coffee. I’ll be back with your omelet in a few minutes.” He stopped and reached for a newspaper on the side table. “Here’s a copy of USA Today if you’re interested.”
“Thanks, Trig.”
Olivia browsed the headlines but had little interest in what the rest of the world was up to. After she’d awakened from her twelve-hour nap, she enjoyed a long bubble bath in the clawfoot tub, letting the hot water soothe her from head to toe. It felt strange having so much free time to do as she pleased. She’d blown the sudsy bubbles, allowing herself
to simply relax and watch the steam rise, content just to be.
And then she closed her eyes and prayed. Longer than she’d ever prayed before. Her heart felt close to bursting, filled with such deep gratitude and appreciation for the extraordinary gift she knew had come from the hand of God. John Winthrop’s extreme generosity had shocked her, prompting a desperate need to hug the guy and thank him face to face. Someday, somehow, she would.
She prayed, asking God to lead her. Still overwhelmed, she couldn’t begin to visualize what He might have in store for her. She prayed for wisdom in deciding how to help people in need. The idea of making anonymous gifts to people who were struggling thrilled her. Like the single mother of five whose husband was killed in the line of duty. What could she do for them? Or the young man at church whose spinal injury landed him permanently in a wheelchair. How fun would it be to secretly send them monetary gifts to ease the life he and his wife now faced?
So many possibilities. Where do I start? Lord, I’m so confused. I don’t want to waste this incredible blessing You’ve given me. Lead me, Father. Show me what to do.
Now, sipping her coffee as the morning rays of sunlight filled the room, she wondered how to spend the day. When Michelle reappeared with a dish of freshly- cut fruit, she asked for advice.
“If this were your first day in Caden Cove, what would you do? Where would you go?”
Michelle gave her the names of several interesting shops to visit along with some sights to see if she felt like driving. When Trig brought her omelet, he made some additional suggestions.
“Be sure to stop by Molly’s Coffee Shop & Pharmacy just off the circle. Very eclectic and charming—as is Molly. You will love her. It’s impossible not to. Right, babe?”
“You’ll meet her and in five minutes, you’ll feel as if you’ve known her all your life.”
Trig continued. “Then just around the corner from Molly’s is the Knit Knook, if you’re into that sort of thing. But even if you’re not, it’s a quirky place to visit. And if you’re into books, you’ll want to stop by Books & Such.”
