“She’s jumped back into your life with both feet,” Lucy said. “How’s that going for you?”
“Scott said she was like that when he was a kid. He called her Über Mom. It drove him crazy.”
“Now she’s Über Grandma.”
“Which is helpful and overwhelming. I’m hoping as time passes, she’ll ease up.”
Lucy shook her head. “You’re the exact opposite of Helen.”
“Which is why I think Scott picked me.”
The baby rolled to the right, forcing Megan to shift in her seat, watching as the rows of cornfields gave way to the expanse of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge–Tunnel. The twenty-three-mile drive across the bay into Norfolk. In the distance the clouds had thickened and grown dark.
“Are we still on for Natasha’s party tomorrow night?” Megan asked.
“We are. Six o’clock.”
“What’s the final theme?”
“You saved the day, Megan. All the girls are thrilled about playing vintage games and getting their fortunes read. They have all decided not to dress up but to wear black and white colors only.”
“How very mysterious,” Megan said, smiling.
“Hank’s also coming, and so is Rick. Both have offered to be on hand to scare off any boys who think they might show up and crash the party.”
“Natasha must have been mortified.”
“Scandalized. We’ll do our family celebration at six. Hope you have black-and-white maternity garb.”
Megan felt humbled to be included as family. “I’ll find something.”
They arrived at the venue marked by two large brick pillars, each sporting a sign that read PINEHURST. The property had originally been a plantation built in the 1840s along the James River. Like many old structures, it had found a new life as a historical museum as well as a wedding venue.
Lucy stopped the vehicle and snapped several pictures before she continued down the long dirt road that curled through a grove of trees lining the way. Each tree was several feet wide and stood over fifty feet tall, creating a graceful canopy of foliage.
Megan directed Lucy to drive around a bend and toward a large white event tent. Inside the tent were several bare, round wooden tables waiting to be dressed. On the other side of the tent was a pink food truck, and painted on the side were the words KIERNAN’S KAKES.
Memories of Megan’s last visit to this venue had a familiar knot tightening in her chest. “Full disclosure, I was supposed to have my wedding here.”
“Really? A little stuffy for you. Did Helen pick it out?”
“Not quite. Helen and my mother found it. I was working at a dig in Alexandria and didn’t have time, so they took charge. You should have seen them. They were both so proud of their find.”
Lucy shook her head. “It’s a lovely place, but I don’t picture you here.”
“Neither did I. I was trying to wedge myself into a life that wasn’t mine.” Her mother’s disappointment over the canceled wedding still weighed on Megan.
“I’m glad you came to the Eastern Shore,” Lucy said. “I’m not sure what I’d have done with Winter Cottage or Spring House without you.”
“Claire Buchanan reached out from the grave and literally saved me,” Megan said.
“Back at you.” Lucy shut off the engine and walked around to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. She grabbed the first cooler. “I’ll get the other one. Just point the way.”
“Straight toward the food truck.”
Lucy carried the cooler to Kiernan’s food truck. Megan had discovered the nomad baker and event planner at an event in Richmond when she was searching for a caterer. She had liked the woman’s offbeat style instantly and asked for a catering proposal. Her mother had not been thrilled by Kiernan, but on this point, Megan had held firm. She’d learned later that Kiernan had refused full payment and accepted money for only the supplies she had already purchased. That gesture had saved Megan’s parents at least ten grand.
Lucy set the first cooler by the steps to the food truck. “Be right back with the second cooler.”
Megan peered into the truck but did not see anyone.
The sound of voices had her turning toward the river, where Kiernan stood with a tall, burly man who was erecting a second tent. Kiernan’s red hair was pinned up into a loose topknot, and she wore a black T-shirt embossed with double Ks. Top-Siders peeked out from jeans that hugged rounded hips and nipped in at a narrow waist.
“Kiernan,” Megan called out.
The woman turned, her smile reflecting relief and joy. “You made it!”
“I didn’t flake on you,” Megan said.
Kiernan hugged Megan while patting her rounded belly. One thing Megan had learned was that pregnancy had transformed her belly into public property, with friends, family, and a few strangers all admiring it.
“Looking good, Mama,” Kiernan said.
“I’m in the home stretch.”
“Can’t wait to see your pretty baby,” Kiernan said.
Megan was excited too, but the idea that there really was a person she was actually going to be allowed to raise still freaked her out. “Thanks for the gig.”
“When the bride said her man loved pies, you were the first person I thought about.”
“I appreciate the work. I brought a friend along who’s helping. Let me introduce you.”
As they approached the truck, Lucy was setting down the second cooler. “Lucy owns property on the Eastern Shore. You might have heard of Winter Cottage. She’s thinking about making it into a wedding venue.”
Kiernan handed a check to Megan. “That’s awesome. There aren’t enough venues up that way. Do you have a card? I’m always on the hunt for new locations.”
“No card yet, but I will soon.”
Kiernan retrieved a card from her back pocket. “Text me a few pictures of your place and let me see what you have.”
“I will.”
“The cake is my signature, but we plan the entire show from soup to nuts.”
Lucy took the card and tapped it against her palm. “Right now, we’re launching into a redo of all the buildings on the property. It’s not perfect now, but the grounds are always stunning.”
“Super. A trip to the Eastern Shore might be nice.”
“Perfect.”
Megan tucked the check into her pocket, glad to have the extra cash. “Thanks again for the business.”
“Ready for the rain?” Lucy asked.
“When I received Megan’s text, I ordered a second tent.” She looked up toward the clouds. “Weatherman says it’s going to blow over.”
“The old-timers at the café swear the rain is coming,” Lucy said.
Kiernan reached for her phone and opened the weather app. “Clear skies.”
Lucy held up her hands. “These dudes are never wrong.”
Kiernan looked back at her tent. “I also have the side flaps, just in case.”
Megan hugged Kiernan, and she and Lucy climbed into the truck. As they drove down the long driveway toward the main road, a feeling of relief and closure washed over Megan.
“What’s the deal with Kiernan?” Lucy asked. “Is she doing well for herself?”
“I think she does okay. Her coordinating services start at five grand.”
“Five grand. Wow.”
“But she earns every cent. Even the most expensive weddings have drama.”
Megan’s phone rang, and when she saw Rick’s name on the display, she absently moistened her lips and brushed back her bangs. “Rick, what’s up?”
“I found no information on Elise Mandel, but I’m going to keep digging. I’ll see you at Lucy’s tomorrow night, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hopefully I’ll find something. I’m headed north right now. Sam Denver’s boat sank, and I’m going to see if I can help him raise it.”
“His boat sank? We didn’t have any weather last night.”
“High tide. He didn’t secure t
he boat properly, and when the tide rose, the bow did not.”
“Ouch.”
“He’s a mess. He’s put his entire savings into restoring his baby.”
“Then I’ll let you go. Keep the mean streets of the Eastern Shore safe, Sheriff.”
He chuckled. “Doing my best, ma’am.”
Megan hung up, and an unwitting smile spread across her lips.
“Megan has a crush,” Lucy teased.
Her face warmed, and she ducked her head. “Lucy, I’m eight months pregnant. He’s being nice to me because of Scott.”
Lucy laughed. “Keep telling yourself that.”
When Megan and Lucy returned to Winter Cottage, Lucy headed back to school for Natasha while Megan settled in the rocker by the large windows overlooking the bay. She had been reading more of Diane’s letters, but as much as she enjoyed them, fatigue got the better of her, and soon she drifted off to sleep.
Dolly’s barking startled her awake. Rubbing her eyes, she sat forward and saw Diane’s letters scattered on the floor. Groaning, she forced her big belly forward and began to gather them.
Rolling her head from side to side, she chased away the tension that buzzed around her. She put the letters back in a folder and stepped out onto the front porch just as Helen got out of her car.
“Helen, this is a surprise,” Megan said.
“I know. I should have called, but I want to make sure there were no aftereffects of your fall.”
“I stumbled. I didn’t fall. And I’m fine.”
“Good.”
“Why are you smiling?” Megan asked.
“Because I’m very pleased with myself. I was too excited not to bring you this surprise.”
Pressing her hand to her belly, she walked toward the car. “What do you have?”
“First an idea. It occurred to me as I was driving here. I have the perfect name for the baby.”
“You do?”
“Scottie. That’s a very cute name for a girl, don’t you think?”
“Is it short for anything?”
“Scarlet or Scotlyn, both of which are lovely. I can picture her name on a business card right now. Of course her title will be president.”
“Good to think ahead,” Megan said. “Scottie Buchanan is cute.”
Helen opened the back of her car. “Her name isn’t going to be Jessup?”
“Her middle name will be Jessup. Her last name will be Buchanan.”
Helen frowned. “A baby should have her father’s name.”
“Jessup will be her middle name.”
“Of course you can name the baby whatever you wish, but I’m going to encourage you to change your mind about her last name.”
“I won’t, Helen.” Anger bubbled up inside of her as she thought about anyone telling her how to raise her child.
“Scott is her father.”
“And I am her mother.” Megan considered herself easygoing, but she had limits. She shoved out a breath, not wanting to have this fight now. “You said you brought something.”
“Yes,” Helen said as if remembering the purpose of this visit. “I have a real surprise that I think we can both agree upon.”
Helen removed the blanket and revealed a handmade hooded primitive wooden cradle made from teak. Three feet long and a little over a foot wide, it sat low to the ground on beveled rocking edges and was constructed with wooden pegs. Carved on the hood were an H and a J.
“It was Scott’s cradle,” Helen said. “It was passed down through the Jessup family. It’s over a hundred years old and was built by Isaac Hedrick before he gave it to the Jessups when he gave them his sons to raise.”
“I didn’t realize you had the cradle.”
“My in-laws gave it to me when Scott was born. We used it for the few months of his infancy. I would lay him in it as I cooked in the kitchen or folded laundry. Finally, he just got too big for it.
“Have a look at the headboard. See the H and the J? As you know, the H represents Hedrick. Your Claire from Winter Cottage and all her siblings would have lain in this as babies.”
As Megan laid her hand on the smooth wood, peaceful energy rolled through her. “It’s lovely.”
Helen smiled, pleased. “I thought with your knack for history, you’d appreciate it. When you and Scott first got engaged, I mentioned it to him, but he didn’t seem interested.”
Whatever annoyance she’d felt toward Helen moments ago softened. This cradle was exactly the kind of antique she would be proud to use. “It’s truly wonderful.”
“Truly?”
Megan smiled. “Yes.”
The sheriff’s car pulled up. “I called Rick and asked him to come by and have a look at the cradle. He’s so handy with any kind of construction, and I thought it best to have the cradle checked out before we put the baby in it. You just can’t be too careful.”
Rick parked, stepped out of his car, and then nodded to them before he strode over. His hair was damp, and he wore a button-down shirt showing just enough chest to trigger a few impure thoughts. Rick’s jeans were worn, and they hugged his narrow hips.
His gaze went to Megan first, and for an instant, she held it before he cleared his throat and shifted his attention to Helen. Megan blushed, and her nerves tingled.
“Scott could hardly drive a nail into the wall,” Helen said. “Whenever he needed anything hung, he’d call Rick, so that’s exactly what I did.”
Rick kissed her on the cheek. “You look younger every time I see you.”
“And you’re still a bad liar,” Helen said, smiling.
He rocked the cradle gently in the back of her car and then ran his palm over the smooth wood. “Is this the cradle you wanted me to give the once-over?”
“Yes,” Helen said. “As you can see, it’s very old, and I want to make sure it’s safe.”
“It’s handsome,” he said. “And it looks very sturdy. Any baby would be fine in this.”
“Excellent. I was hoping you’d say that. Could you take it into the house for us?” Helen asked.
Rick pushed aside the blanket, and with one steady pull, he removed the three-foot-long cradle. He easily carried it to the house and through the main hallway. “Where do you want it?”
“The parlor for now,” Megan said. “Beside the rocking chair.”
Megan and Helen followed, and when he set it down in front of the hearth, an odd sense of peace came over her. Megan ran her hand over the top, and her heart sped up as she pictured a woman sitting in a rocker beside it, humming. She smelled freshly baking bread and heard the rumble of boys’ laughter around her.
“It’s really lovely, Helen,” Megan said.
“Did you notice the fish on the headboard?” Helen asked. She ran her hand over the carvings. “Twelve fish. All carved at different times. They represent almost all the children who have slept in this cradle. I never could get my husband to carve a fish for Scott.” She frowned. “We really should have carved Scott’s fish into the headboard.”
“I can still do it,” Rick offered. “And I can do one for the baby as well.”
“That would be great,” Helen said with a warm smile.
Megan knelt and traced the fish, thinking through the ancestry charts she had made on the Jessup and Hedrick families. The little fish were arranged around the H, each swimming in a circle. The fish at the top was carefully carved, but with each successive fish, the details became fainter. The fourth fish was barely legible; however, the fifth, sixth, and seventh fish were done with great care.
Megan thought about the fourth Hedrick child. That would have been Diane, the little girl who had almost vanished until very recently. She traced her fingers around the rough edges of her fish.
“When Scott’s grandmother gave it to me, I was so certain I wouldn’t use it,” Helen said. “It seemed so old and unnecessary when I was surrounded by the most modern beds, rockers, and bouncy chairs. But I remember one night when Scott was about two weeks old. He would not go to slee
p. I rocked him. I tried to feed him. I paced with him. Nothing worked. I remember sitting even on the floor of his nursery next to the cradle. I was too tired to stand, and out of desperation, I laid him in it. I held the headboard and rocked it gently. He fussed a few times and then suddenly stopped. Scared me to death. I was certain I’d done something wrong. But when I took a good look at him, I realized he was sound asleep.”
Megan could feel Addie’s and Sally’s energy in the cradle. Both women had infused it with calm and love.
“Nicely done, Helen,” Rick said.
There was a rough quality about his voice that made Megan wish he were not simply bound to her by duty and obligation. She wanted him to simply want her.
“Helen, we’re having a party for Natasha tomorrow night,” Megan said. “We’d like you to come.”
“Oh no, I can’t. That’s her party,” Helen said. “I wouldn’t belong.”
“Of course you would,” Megan said. “Rick and I will both be there. It’ll be fun. Lucy has now roped me into reading fortunes. You can help.”
“Are you sure?” Helen asked.
“Very,” Megan said. “Come. It starts at six p.m.”
“All right, I will. I’m going to have to dash now. I need to run Grandmother to the doctor, but I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Perfect.”
Rick remained behind as Helen drove off. “You’re doing a good job, Megan. And I really admire how kind you are to Helen. I know she can take over sometimes, but she only wants the best for her friends and family.”
“She wants me to name the baby Scottie.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s nice, but I’m not so sure.”
“What name do you like?” Rick asked.
She glanced down at the cradle’s headboard, and again her gaze was drawn to the fourth fish. “Diane.”
“Diane? The girl who wrote those letters?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if there is anyone left who remembers her.”
“I like it.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
She drew in a slow breath. “When you see me, who do you see?”
“I see Megan Buchanan.”
Spring House Page 21
