His Saving Grace

by Janice Carter

  “What do you think about Henry’s invitation to spend this weekend at his place? The town will have some wonderful July Fourth events.”

  Drew sensed the light moment was gone. Of course, he’d recognized Henry’s invite as a ploy right away. Not that he had anything against cats, but seriously? Henry could probably have taken the cat with him.

  “Um, it was very generous of Henry to offer his place, but I really ought to get back to Portland and file my reports. I’ve been out of office for a month now and—”

  “Sure,” she interrupted, glancing away but not before Drew saw the disappointment in her face.

  He finished his half of the cake, chewing and swallowing without any pleasure and when she politely refused the other half, claiming she’d had too much pavlova, he knew the evening was drawing to an end.

  He signaled for the bill and minutes later they emerged onto the boardwalk. The stillness of the evening fell over them like a cozy comforter. The lights from the street above bounced prettily off the shallow water in the marina, but Drew knew only too well how frightening the dark sea beyond could be. He shivered in spite of the balmy night air. When they ascended to street level, he asked, “Can I walk you back to your place?”

  She hesitated long enough for him to think she might be misinterpreting his suggestion. Or perhaps she wanted to end the evening right then and there. His response to her question about staying through the weekend had been a conversation stopper and he regretted that.

  “If you like.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  They walked silently in the opposite direction from the hotel toward the bookstore. Henry had told him Grace lived upstairs in his former apartment.

  When they reached the front door of Novel Thinking, Grace fumbled in her purse for the key. Drew wondered if she’d have asked him inside if his answer about staying for the weekend had been different. If he hadn’t broken the magic of the evening.

  “Listen,” he said as she unlocked the door. He couldn’t walk away knowing he might be able to fix things.

  She swung around.

  “I do have to get back to the office tomorrow but...uh... I also don’t have plans for the weekend.”

  She didn’t speak, looking up at him with eyes that now seemed to glimmer with hope.

  “I...uh...maybe I could take you and Henry up on your offer. It would be nice to spend the holiday in a smaller place, like the Cove.”

  “He...we...would like that. Thank you. I’ll let Henry know.” She extended her right hand. “And thank you for this night. The dinner. It was lovely.”

  Drew held on to her hand tucked into his as long as possible. He realized he hadn’t mentioned the lighthouse at all. Just as well, he thought. Grace Winters had had enough disappointment for one night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE DRIVE TO Portland was a blur. Not due to speed, but to his own inattention. Thankfully most of the traffic was against Drew as people were leaving the city for an early start at the holiday weekend. He’d left Lighthouse Cove right after a quick breakfast at Mabel’s, disappointingly uninterrupted by another appearance of Grace Winters. He’d sent her a brief text asking if she’d arrange for him to meet Henry at the bookstore at ten on Saturday morning but hadn’t yet received a reply.

  Somewhere between Portland and the Cove he asked himself what he hoped to gain by going back. He didn’t need to see Grace to reiterate why the tower had to be torn down. That could be done by phone or email. The holiday ahead could be filled—endured, he amended—in Portland with his usual weekend routines of a jog around the seafront, brunch at his favorite café and a night of TV with a curry takeout. And he certainly didn’t need to enrich his life by cat-sitting. So, he didn’t need to see Grace, but he wanted to.

  He parked his car in his usual space in the Coast Guard headquarters parking lot and retrieved his laptop from the trunk. He’d finished writing up all his findings, tying them collectively into a summarizing report, after walking Grace home last night. Except for the tower at Lighthouse Cove. For that, he decided to send a separate memo to Jim Pitarokilis, his commanding officer.

  Jim had been a mentor since Drew’s transfer to the administrative job in the Portland office eight months ago. His calm and patient manner had guided Drew through the transition from living with regret and guilt to a renewed sense of purpose and hope. When it was obvious that his desk job was hindering more than helping Drew recover from his trauma, Jim had assigned him to temporarily take over the vacant lighthouse maintenance program and encouraged him to apply for the full-time position.

  Drew carried his gear across the lobby, through security and up to the second floor. He shared a small office with Ensign McNaught, whose tasks included acting as an assistant to Drew but who primarily spent a lot of time on his cell phone with his current girlfriend. When he strode into the office, Drew saw that the room was empty, a used take-out coffee cup on the other desk the only indication that at some point in the day McNaught had physically been there. He sighed but rationalized that it was the start of a holiday weekend and with luck, he, too, would be gone shortly.

  He unpacked his work and booted up his laptop to type up his thoughts on the Cove lighthouse. When he finished the descriptions of the exterior and interior of the tower, he began work on the section that would sell his idea—or not. He summarized the history of the town and the tower’s own story, omitting the past tragedy that had occurred there, which, he decided, was irrelevant to the present request. He included a brief picture of the Cove in transition from a prosperous fishing village to a satellite community of Portland. A growing town but one longing to retain the symbols of its humble past. He concluded by referring to Grace and Henry and their solid commitment to restoring and preserving the tower for their community. His recommendation was, rather than tear the tower down, to offer to sell it to the town contingent on a pass from a structural inspection.

  He was taking a big risk, knowing that Jim was expecting the decommission and demolition process to be initiated. But Drew had lain awake long into the night after leaving Grace. He thought about her efforts to convince him to change his mind and the faraway, almost pained expression in her eyes when she talked about the lighthouse. The demolition was inevitable because he doubted the tower would be sound enough to sell to the community. Better to have that bitter disappointment come from his supervisor now that Drew had committed himself to the holiday weekend in Lighthouse Cove. Perhaps an extra few days would give him the chance to temper the blow that would eventually come when the tower failed a safety inspection.

  The fact that he might not be making this conciliatory gesture if someone other than Grace was requesting a sale wasn’t lost on Drew. But he reasoned that his report wasn’t a change in direction so much as a postponement—one that would at least give him more time with Grace Winters and perhaps even take some of the edge off his role as the messenger of bad news. He read his email once more and hit Send.

  Half an hour later, as he was finishing a memo to McNaught to input the survey data onto a spreadsheet, Drew’s cell phone chimed. He snatched it off the desk and saw two words that gave him an ominous feeling. See me.

  He walked down the hall and tapped on the door at the end, opening at the loud “Enter.”

  Jim Pitarokilis looked up from the papers he’d been reading. His smile was reassuring but his gesture to sit suggested Drew was going to be there for longer than the simple “Okay” he’d been anticipating.

  “Good trip?” Jim asked.

  “Very.”

  His boss nodded. “Great. So, this memo you just sent me.” He pointed to the screen on his desktop monitor. “I’ve read it over a couple of times and frankly, I’m puzzled.”

  “Sir?”

  “Everything you’ve written, up to the last paragraph, indicates the obvious conclusion of a teardown. And that’s what your assignment was.” He s
hook his bald head. “I’m not seeing any evidence of the tower’s viability. Just the opposite. The fact that it hasn’t had a functioning beacon in who knows how many years is proof enough. Then you go on to recommend a structural inspection, which will no doubt confirm the site is compromised.” He stopped looking at the screen, meeting Drew’s steady gaze. “What was your thinking?”

  Drew stifled his impatience. Hadn’t he made all that clear in his report? He paused, forming a response that would persuade his boss rather than rile him. “The Cove tower is unique, sir. As I wrote, its construction was begun in 1917 when the place was a thriving village dependent on its fishing industry and finished a year later. The wartime situation and perhaps fears of a coastal invasion led to its construction agreement from Lighthouse Service, but the tower was basically built at the request of one of the founding fathers of the community. The Hiram Winters I mentioned.”

  “I get that, Spencer. That’s not my point. Even if it passed an inspection, does this proposal from—” he peered at the computer screen “—Grace Winters, a descendant I gather, have community support? Because if not, unless she’s an independently wealthy woman...”

  “Other community members seem to be on board, sir.” At least two others, he silently added, thinking of Leonard Maguire and Henry. “And as long as the tower passes inspection, won’t responsibility for it rest with the buyers? I mean, how the town finds the money for it isn’t our problem.”

  After a long uneasy moment, Jim gave a loud sigh. “You haven’t convinced me, but I see that you’re all gung ho on this. I’ll okay the funds for an inspection but that’s it. If there’s a hint of doubt about its soundness...”

  Drew jumped to his feet. “Got it, sir.” He was partway out the door when Jim asked, “Did you get your application in?”

  “Yes, and thanks for the reference.”

  “Anytime. We’ll be lucky to have you on board. Though I should tell you there are a couple of excellent applications in from officers outside Portland.”

  The sobering reminder that the promotion wasn’t a done deal had Drew pause in the doorway. “Thanks again, sir, and I’ll make sure the right decision is made on that tower.”

  Grace Winters’s face suddenly came to mind and Drew realized at that exact moment how vital his decision would be. He returned to his office and began to pack up the material he needed to take with him for the weekend. He had three days ahead to discuss his report with Grace and Henry and set an inspection in motion. The inspection would likely prove what Drew had been attempting to tell them—that the tower should be demolished. But at least he’d be back in a beautiful place with a beautiful woman. He had a few days grace before reality hit.

  * * *

  GRACE ENJOYED A rare sleep-in. Usually the store was open on Saturdays but because today was July Fourth, she’d closed it until Monday. She puttered around her upstairs apartment, happy to be alone in her own space. Henry had bought the entire building many years before and when he decided to retire, he’d considered renting out the store and staying in the apartment. But as much as he loved what he affectionately called his aerie, the stairs had become an issue for him. He’d found a cute bungalow two streets up from the beach road and had taken up bird-watching. A win-win for everyone because six weeks back in the Cove had proven that adult children living with aging parents wasn’t an ideal situation.

  She’d resisted the move home for weeks, agreeing to return only days before her father’s surgery. Receiving a layoff notice from the Augusta library service due to budget cutbacks had been a factor but Ben’s admonition to “step up to the plate” was the deciding argument. She’d protested that he himself had only made irregular visits after he’d gone off to college, but he’d played the mom card, using Evelyn’s rheumatoid arthritis condition as leverage. Grace wouldn’t refuse to help her mother and just as Grace had predicted, the temporary move had somehow segued into semipermanence.

  Now she was living above an old bookstore that had weathered the years better than the lighthouse. After Brandon’s death, few residents ventured near the site. Since Henry’s hip troubles began, his keeper’s visits stretched from once a month to every six months and finally to once a year. If that.

  But Grace had no right to judge. Until a month ago, she hadn’t stepped a foot on the path to the lighthouse since that night seventeen years ago when she and Cassie had hidden behind some shrubs to witness the meeting between Ella and Brandon. Over the years, Grace had struggled to block all thoughts of that night. She’d avoided the general area because that was where Brandon had drowned—all because of her.

  It had been Henry who’d persuaded her to take the first step. She still didn’t know why he’d bothered and wondered if his concern that she visit the place where Brandon had died stemmed from his own guilt over the neglect of the site. When she finally agreed, she’d managed the walk along the grassy path until a few feet away from the lighthouse door when she froze, picturing Brandon standing there, bracing to tackle the high tide to get to shore. No one knew exactly how he’d drowned, but Grace had stored that imagined scene in her mind since that night.

  Henry had clasped her hand in his as they walked almost to the steps at the lighthouse base. She’d stood there as Henry pointed to areas where the structure seemed to be crumbling and while he rambled on about fixing it up. But what had really held her interest was a bunch of dead flowers lying nearby. Later that night, as she lay awake for hours, Grace had wondered about the flowers. Who had brought them and why? Obviously someone who was remembering Brandon. That was the moment that she decided to help Henry fix up the lighthouse as a memorial to Brandon. It would be a chance to make up, if even in a small way, for what she’d done.

  She sighed, coming back to the present. It’s summer, it’s a holiday and a good-looking man is headed your way. Because the day was going to be hot, she opted for a cool dress rather than shorts. Studying herself in the mirror, Grace thought of the smile on Drew’s face when he’d watched her cross the hotel lobby Thursday night. It had been a long time since a man had greeted her like that and she had only herself to blame. There had been a few relationships in college and after, but none for long. The beginnings were always good, until Grace realized serious commitments would involve disclosure. She’d become very adept at handling endings.

  She had no idea how the weekend was going to play out as far as getting Drew’s agreement to sell them the lighthouse, but since their dinner at The Daily Catch, Grace knew she could handle spending more time with Drew. Time that didn’t have to pertain exclusively to the lighthouse. She grabbed sunglasses and her summer straw handbag on the way downstairs, locking the interior door leading to her apartment behind her just as someone knocked at the store’s front one.

  “On the dot as usual,” she teased, letting Henry inside. “You could have come right in.”

  “Ah no. It’s your place now. Having an extra key is only for emergencies or the like.”

  “You look nice, Henry.”

  “I clean up well,” he said, smiling. “Isn’t that what your mother says?” He handed her a set of keys. “I was surprised by your message that our young Coast Guard officer had taken us up on the offer.” He paused. “Must have been a successful dinner.”

  Grace felt her face heat up but ignored his teasing. “I was surprised, too, Henry.”

  “Tell him Felix has plenty of food and water for the day so no need to check on him till later. I left a note on the kitchen table with any information about the place he might want. And let him know I left some windows open, so he won’t worry that someone’s broken in.”

  No one would need to at that invitation, Grace thought. “Have you heard that there have been some burglaries recently?”

  He waved a hand. “It’s the Cove, Gracie. Was a time when we didn’t even lock our doors at night.”

  “Things are different now.”

 
“Maybe in Portland or in that new housing complex up by the highway, but not down here.”

  Grace knew better than to argue. Henry and change were incompatible.

  Henry lay a hand on her shoulder. “Gracie, do me a favor, will you?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just enjoy the weekend. Forget about the dang lighthouse and live it up a little. That fella—he’s a nice guy. Whatever he decides, I’m sure it’ll be for the best. Don’t fret about it. Have fun.” He turned around and was out the door before she had a chance to reply.

  Grace teared up, watching Henry limp toward his old Chevy parked outside. The man had been a lifesaver for her all through her teens, suggesting—or buying at her recommendation—all kinds of books for the store. He’d always taken an interest in her. Not as a Winters, but simply as Gracie, the girl who came by once a week for a book.

  The nostalgic moment vanished as a black SUV pulled up in front. Grace waited inside the door as Drew Spencer climbed out. He caught sight of her and waved, smiling broadly as he walked around the vehicle to the sidewalk.

  “Hello,” he said when she came out the door, locking it behind her.

  The greeting was casual, but not the glance that swept over her. Grace felt her pulse quicken.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  “So do you.”

  They laughed together. “All right, niceties aside,” he said. “Have I missed Henry? Cause I see you’ve locked up.”

  She held out the keys. “These are for you and he said to tell you that Felix has been fed and watered and there’s a note on the kitchen table for you.”

  “Felix?”

  “His cat?”

  He laughed again. “Right. Why I’m here.”

  “I hope that’s not the only reason.”