“Thank you for all your help, Nancy,” Dad’s voice strained as he clutched the staircase railing with one hand. His other gripped firmly on his cane.
“You should get some rest, Dad.” I laid my hand on his shoulder. “I can see to the reception.”
His eyebrows scrunched together as his lips curved into a frown. “I’m just not ready to go upstairs. Going up there, and off to bed, it feels like I’m failing her today.”
“Failing her? Dad, you could never do that.”
“Don’t be so sure, kiddo.” He inhaled a deep breath and his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk storing food for a second before he blew all the air out. His lungs and shoulders caved in as though a twinge of regret deflated them along with his exhale. “I’ll go sit in the library. I can rest in there, but also talk to people if they want.”
Before I could utter a response, he shuffled his weakened body down the hallway and into the library. A room I often found him in during my youth, sitting in one of the big chairs with a book in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. I’d watch him from around the corner, peeking ever-so-slightly past the frame of the door until I saw his eyes glance up over his glasses. He’d smile and I would smile, but neither of us said a word. The silent greeting we always seemed to share before I left him to the peaceful calm of the pages bound in leather. A few times, if I’d had a particularly hard day or if I didn’t feel good, I’d slip into his lap, curling up against his chest and shoulders while he read to me.
While nearly everyone in town had attended the funeral, only a handful came to the inn for the reception. Their faces recognized from my youth, had aged just as mine. Hair on their heads had changed, the strands now flecked with grey. Wrinkles formed around their eyes while their hands had hardened and weathered over the years. My dad’s friends gathered around him in the library, the tiny room was now packed with Jerry, Moe, Pastor Dawson, Evan, and Stanley, Evan’s dad, and filled with old stories and laughter about days long since passed. I squeezed through them every few minutes with trays of vegetables and chunks of cheese, trying to get my dad to eat something even though he persistently refused.
Among the old faces, younger ones, still from my youth, showed up throughout the dining room. People I knew from high school and still recognized even after all these years.
“Rachel? Is that you?” One of them called out. “Oh my goodness. It is you.” The rail thin woman bounced toward me, her tall frame towered over me as it did while we were growing up. My oldest friend, my dearest friend, and one who I hadn’t seen or talked to since the day I left Shadow Brook.
“It’s me,” she shrieked. “It’s Bridget.”
“I know who you are.” I chuckled through my words as I set down the tray in my hand and met her warm hug. Her coal black hair and chocolate skin smelled of the ocean, a salty thickness mixed with crab and lobster instead of the strawberry shampoo she loved so much in high school.
“I haven’t seen you in . . . well, years. How have you been?” Her smile slightly faded. “I mean, aside from your mother . . . I’m so sorry about Maggie. She was a wonderful woman.”
“Thank you.”
“So, how is your husband, Paul? Is he here?” Before I could answer, she glanced over my shoulder and around the room. Her thin neck arched and lengthened, and a delicate gold necklace draped across her collarbone, the diamond pendant glimmered a little in the light.
“No, he’s not here. Unfortunately, he got tied up with work he couldn’t get out of.”
“Not even for his mother-in-law’s funeral?”
“I’m afraid that’s the nature of his job.”
“Such a shame. It would have been nice to finally meet the wonderful man Maggie was always talking about, and handsome too, or so she says. She always liked to tell me everything she thought you’d want me to know.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“She also told me about the wedding, too. It sounded beautiful.” A gleam of disappointment sparkled in the hue of her deep brown irises.
Growing up the notion of playing maid of honor to each other always seemed as though a given. Inseparable from the moment we met all those years ago, just two little girls playing on the beach, the thought of marrying without the other standing next to the bride-to-be was a crushing thought. And yet, that is what happened. Bridget hadn’t even attended my wedding, much less stood at the altar with me. I hadn’t even invited her. I hadn’t invited anyone from Shadow Brook except my parents. So desperate to get away from this town, I shunned it all, my best friend included.
“So, how have you been?” I asked, trying more than anything to distract myself from the awkward moment.
“Good. I’m married, going on about eight years now, and Drake and I bought Moe’s Lobster Shack when Moe retired.”
“Drake? Drake Sears?”
“That’s the one. I’m now Bridget Sears instead of Bridget Donnelly.”
“I suppose I’m not really surprised, though. You two were headed toward the altar before I left.”
Her half smile faded for a moment, and a long-time pain etched in the lack of the curve to her lips. Like a wound suddenly opened up once again and anyone other than a fool would know why. I didn’t know how long my path of destruction barreled through the lives of loved ones in this town, but apparently, it didn’t stop with just my parents. I’d hurt her too, and from the look on her face, the damage ached in her chest.
“I’m sorry I left the way I did. Not saying goodbye. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you or write you or even visit.”
She clutched my arm. “I understand why you did it. Drake told me what happened that night and the fight with your mother.”
“Still. Your friendship was everything to me growing up.”
“And yours was to me, too.”
“Do you remember how we use to plan our futures?”
“You mean how we’d get married at the same time, our husbands would be best friends, we’d have children at the same time, and they would be best friends?”
“Don’t forget the kids would also then marry each other.”
“Sealing our friendship as family forever.” She chuckled, and gently brushed her shoulder into mine. “Of course, I kept up my end of the deal.”
“Your end?”
“I married Drake.” A smile from ear to ear spread across her lips once more and she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. Round and matching the stone in her necklace, the diamond in her ring sparkled. It’s size and shape like the one Paul gave me. “I guess it’s okay you spoiled it by marrying someone not from here.” She winked.
“Yes, well given some of Drake’s friends in high school, you can see why.”
“They were quite the bunch, weren’t they?” She folded one arm across her chest and rested her other elbow on it, taking her index finger to her lip and tapping it several times. “So, have you seen him since you’ve been back in town?”
“Seen who?”
She cocked her head to the side, digging one hand in her hip. “Uh, Luke. You know, the man you almost married?”
“I didn’t almost marry him.”
“He had a ring. He got down on one knee. You walked away that night, not him.”
“I was eighteen, and no, why would I see him? Mom said he was in the Navy and stationed somewhere, I can’t really remember.”
Like hell I can’t. He’s in San Diego, living on base and from the last time mom checked, he was single. That could have changed though because it was years ago.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“He’s back in Shadow Brook, living in that cabin near the lighthouse. You know, where we all used to hang out by on the weekends.”
My heart thumped.
“Ah, there you are,” a man’s voice called out. Before Bridget could face him, though, his hand slipped around her waist and his lips pressed against her cheek. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
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“I’m sorry, babe. I spotted Rachel and just forgot about waiting.”
“Rachel?” He glanced at me, the rugged features of a stout forehead and squared jaw line instantly recognizable from the football star just over a decade ago. Age hadn’t changed much about Drake, the only subtle differences played off through a face now grown up. He still had the sandy blond hair Bridget daydreamed about and the bright blue eyes with their color so light you couldn’t help but stare at them. He stood a couple of inches taller than her, perhaps the only man from our graduating class that surpassed her height. A matched couple and I couldn’t help but believe their marriage mirrored their outwardly perfection.
“It’s been a long time,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. Maggie was a special lady.”
“Thank you.”
“We were just talking about how Rachel didn’t know that Luke moved back to town.”
“Well, why would she know? It’s not like they talk since she ran out on him while he was on one knee.” While a loud laugh snorted through Drake’s nose, Bridget smacked his shoulder. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
“That’s not how it happened,” I said.
My legs twitched under my weight and my gaze drew an arch throughout the room. A distraction needed. A distraction wanted. The thought of even faking a fainting spell crossed my mind.
“So, you own Moe’s Lobster Shack, huh?” I finally blurted out.
Bridget smacked Drake’s shoulder again. “You see what you’ve done? You’ve made her uncomfortable. Go make sure Nancy and Evan have all the lobster and crab they need and make sure they have enough rolls. We can call Travis down at the shop if they need more.”
“I brought enough for a whole football team. Do you really think they’ll need more?” Soaking in his wife’s hard glare, Drake thought better of waiting for her answer and scurried off toward the kitchen without another word.
“I’m sorry if he embarrassed you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Still, though. No one needs to relive stuff they don’t wish to.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you come home.”
“I guess so.” She let out a soft chuckle to herself. “And, I guess it doesn’t even matter anymore, really. I mean, you’re married.”
“Right!” My voice raised an octave and cracked, and I laughed a bit harder than I meant to, completely sounding like an idiot, though I desperately tried to hide it. “And, I’m sure Luke is married too, so what does it matter?”
“Actually, he’s not. He was engaged, but his fiancée broke it off while he was on tour overseas.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, Drake was giving him a hard time about it, joking of course. He seemed to take it good, though, so maybe enough time has passed and he’s not sad about it much anymore.” She shrugged.
“So, how long have you owned the lobster shack?” I asked, praying she’d take the hint and change the subject.
“About four years now.”
“Nancy brought us lobster rolls on my first night in town. They tasted the same as I remember.”
“Well, of course. We couldn’t change anything. Heaven forbid. Can you image the backlash if we did?” She playfully rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “We would be run out of town within the hour.”
“Do you two have any children?”
Her face twisted, and once again, her smile vanished. “No, not yet. We’ve tried, but we haven’t had any luck. The doctor says it could still happen, but I don’t think it will.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What about you and Paul? Are you two going to have any? Maggie mentioned you two were thinking about it.”
My gut twisted, and I fetched a glass of water from the nearby table, taking a sip. “No, we decided we weren’t going to have children.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t know why I lied. Habit, perhaps. The words said so many times to everyone, including myself, I had learned to believe them. Looking at my oldest friend in this moment felt like looking at an old blanket from my youth. One, I’d gone without for so many years, that finally having it once again, I wanted to cling to it and hold on.
I’d missed her without even knowing I had.
“I’m sure the doctors are right, though,” I finally said. “I’m sure it will happen for you guys. Besides, there simply has to be a few more Drake Sears in the world for all the Bridget Donnelly’s to crush on or vice-versa.”
She laughed. “I sure have missed you, Rachel. Please tell me you plan to come back more often now.”
“I think I can manage that.”
“Oh good, I see you two have found each other.” Nancy set down the tray of lobster rolls and brushed her hands together as she approached us, a broad smile spread through the puffiness of her red cheeks and swollen eyes. She sniffed and yanked a handkerchief from the pocket of her slacks. “I was hoping you two would be able to talk. It’s been way too long since you have.”
“We were just saying that,” Bridget said. “And, I was also telling her she needs to visit now more often.”
The two flashed me equally warning glances as though to imply if I didn’t agree with their plans for me, I’d be in serious trouble. What they could do to me, I didn’t know, but the small child in me just wanted to look at Nancy and say ‘yes, ma’am’.
“Well, don’t those just look delicious? It’s such a shame I’m on a diet.” A thick southern drawl rolled off a young woman’s tongue as she made her way toward us and the table. “Why Miss Nancy, ya must tell me who ya had cater today. Well, besides the lobster shack. Lord knows I’ve eaten there far too many times in my life.”
“Probably why you think you need to diet,” Bridget muttered under her breath.
“Who is that?” I asked her.
“Do you remember Shelly Toole from history class senior year? The one who always knew everything about everyone and liked to make it known?”
“I think so.” Resting my elbow on the other forearm, I sipped from my glass of water. “Didn’t her parents own the café in town?”
“They still do. Well, her mom does, Betty. Her parents got a divorce about six or seven years ago and he moved to Bangor.”
“Wasn’t she from here?”
“Well, Vermont. Her parents moved here when she was in like, the sixth grade,” Bridget whispered, slightly shifting her weight to block Shelly from listening in on our conversation.
“So, what’s with the accent?”
“Who knows. She dated some guy from Texas a few years ago and all of a sudden, the accent showed up. I think she believes it’s cute or something. But, it’s not.”
“We really didn’t have a caterer, Shelly,” Nancy answered. “Just Moe’s, and then I made the salads and the trays.”
“Well, perhaps you should get out of the flower business and into the caterin’ business.” Shelly laughed and her whole body moved while her smooth up-do hairstyle didn’t. She glanced toward me, brushing her hand against her chest before sticking it out for me to shake. “You must be Rachel, Maggie’s daughter from New York. I don’t know if you remember me from high school. My name is Shelly Toole.”
“Shelly, oh, yes, of course, I remember you. How have you been?”
“Oh, just fine, just fine. I’m the teller down at the bank. I used to help your mother out every time she came in with her deposits. Well, actually, I help everyone in town, but anyway, I was really sad to hear when they closed the inn, and then it just broke my heart to hear of your mother’s passin’. I’m so sorry.”
I glanced at Bridget who gave a crooked half smile as she rolled her eyes.
“Yes, it was an unfortunate decision for them to have to make.”
“So, are ya and ya husband plannin’ on openin’ it back up?” Her hawk like hunting skills surveyed the room. “Is he here today? I sure would love to meet the handsome man your mother always talked about. I hear
d he’s a rather successful stock trader in New York.”
“Yes, he is, but, unfortunately, he couldn’t make it here.”
“Well, that’s such a shame. I know we all would have loved to meet him. Your momma used to tell us all about your life in the big city.” As Shelly waved her hand, Bridget covered her mouth and spun away to hide her stifled laughter.
Shelly, you are sure laying it on thick, aren’t ya?
“Maggie said ya are workin’ for that book publishin’ place. Said ya have signed some pretty big authors too. That must be interestin’. Have ya met some in person? Which ones? Are they famous?” Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she blinked.
“I don’t really meet them in person. It’s all done over the phone and by email. Not all of them live in New York, so.”
“Well, that’s such a shame. It would have been interestin’ to hear stories about rubbin’ elbows with the famous.” She laughed as she pretended to rub her elbow with mine. “She also mentioned ya were writin’ a book ya-self. How is that comin’ along? What type of book is it?”
“I haven’t really been working on anything.”
“Oh.” Shelly straightened her shoulders. “I thought she said ya were almost done with it. She made it sound like maybe we would have a best sellin’ author right here in Shadow Brook sometime soon.”
“I did start one, but I haven’t had much time to sit down with it.” I smiled as my thoughts went back to the story and characters I had dreamed about in my head. For so long I’d worked on an outline for them, built a world, added side characters and plot twists, and yet, when it came time to putting them to paper, I didn’t.
Or, I suppose I should say, I couldn’t.
Reading other people’s books took time away from my own, and while I knew this, I hadn’t thought about it, at least not until now.
Shelly moved her head from side to side, clicking her tongue. “Well, that’s too bad.”
A spark of confusion jerked through my head. “What’s too bad?”
Another Yesterday Page 13
