by Olivia Miles
She’d made an effort, Margo realized, feeling strangely touched. And she was looking for Margo’s approval, or guidance, or perhaps both.
“I think I can help you, Dottie,” she said, alarm bells going off in her mind as Dottie’s face lit up.
“I don’t want to give up any of my birds, though,” Dottie said, looking worried.
“No, of course not, but you want the rooms to be functional, and it sounds like you’re looking for a change.”
“I am.” Dottie bit into a cookie thoughtfully. “I love my birds. But…well, I’ve been surrounded by them for so long. And then I went over to Estelle Hancock’s house last month for the historical society meeting and well, her house felt so much less…cluttered.”
Margo latched on to this. “Was there anything else you liked about Estelle’s house?”
The Hancocks had been in Oyster Bay for generations, and their house was a favorite on the Harper girls’ annual Halloween run. Not only did Estelle give out full-sized candy bars, but they also always invited the girls in for hot cider to warm up a bit.
“I liked the color scheme. It felt very light and airy.”
It was true that Dottie’s rooms were dark, and very one note when it came to color. The living room was navy and hunter and the mauve pink had been used in the dining room from the seat cushions to the wallpaper to the curtains.
“What if we designate one room to the birds?” Margo watched Dottie carefully, gauging her reaction. “Then it could be a true…” What was that word Dottie had used? Oh, yes. “Aviary.”
Dottie was nodding slowly, still clutching her cookie. “I like that idea.”
“And that way we can spruce up the other rooms without having to be authentic to the colors of the…birds.”
She could just imagine how Abby would react when she heard this.
“Do you have a spare bedroom?”
“Already filled with birds,” Dottie said with a shrug.
So there were even more. “We might designate just one of the bedrooms then…”
Dottie raised an eyebrow. “If they’ll fit. Those rooms are packed full. The downstairs might be better. More accessible.”
Margo nodded. “Noted.”
“I’ll leave the birds in my bedroom,” Dottie said. “They keep me company.”
Margo blinked. Was this her future? A spinster who collected birds?
“We’ll do the living room and dining room,” Margo said. “Unless there’s another room you need to show me?”Please, no.
Dottie shook her head. “The only other rooms on this floor are Arnie’s office and my sewing room. Bird free. Arnie’s insistence.” A narrowing of the eyes.
Arnie had been gone a long time, but Margo didn’t point this out. If Dottie wanted to respect her late husband’s wishes, she wasn’t about to argue.
Margo walked back into the dining room and then the living room, taking notes and asking Dottie a few questions to understand her vision and offer a few suggestions of her own. In the end, they decided on pale yellow walls to brighten the space, with white furnishings, a new mirror above the mantle, and fresh throw pillows to offset colors in a rug that would be decided on together.
“These framed prints of the birds would still work well in here,” Margo said, noticing the colors. “It’s all about finding balance.”
“Oh, thank you. When I saw your portfolio online, I just knew you’d be able to help me.”
Margo raised an eyebrow. Had Dottie been snooping on her or simply shopping for a designer?
She decided not to think about that one too much.
“How long will something like this take?”
“If we can get the work started right away, only a few weeks,” Margo said. “The worst part will be lining up the contractors to remove the wallpaper and then paint. I know the furniture store in town always has good pieces in stock.”
“Oh, my nephew is a contractor,” Dottie said. “He can handle the wallpaper removal and the painting.”
“Perfect! If he can start right away, we can probably have this all done in about two weeks then.”
A familiar look took over Dottie’s features, one she got when she was keen for information she would stow away to dish out later. “And will you be able to stay in town for that long, or will your husband be needing you back?”
A two-week project. Was this a test? Dottie’s way of fishing for gossip? From the gleam in her eye it was entirely possible.
Margo hesitated, knowing there was nothing to consider. Her life with Ash was over, and the sooner she accepted that the easier it would be to move on with her life.
She took a deep breath, only fleetingly wondering if she cared about the gossip mill, and said, “I’d love to take the project. I’ll get started right away.”
***
Margo was smiling a she walked away from Dottie’s house, already dreaming up color schemes for the linens in the dining room and hoping that Dottie would agree to plantation shutters for the front room; they were costly, but it would give her just the amount of privacy she craved without losing any light. That sewing room would be a perfect place for the birds, tucked away at the back of the house, but somewhere that Dottie could sit and admire them.
She decided to stop by Bridget’s office instead of calling her—she had to sign the lease for the next two weeks on the cottage anyway, and hope that no one else had already taken it first.
The real estate office was right on Main Street, with a black front door flanked by two boxwood topiaries. Inside, an empty receptionist desk opened to a hallway, at the end of which a brass nameplate hung next to a closed door.
Margo knocked, hoping she wasn’t interrupting an important meeting, but a few moments later, Bridget opened the door. It was immediately obvious that something was bothering her—her eyes had a red tinge at the edges and her lipstick was swiped off. The dark blond hair she usually kept neatly brushed at her shoulders was tied back in a loose ponytail that was coming undone at the sides.
“Sorry to stop by without calling first,” Margo said, feeling out of place and a bit unwelcome.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bridget said, walking back to her desk and dropping into her chair.
“I actually came for professional reasons,” Margo continued, thinking from the bleary look in her sister’s face that yes, she really should have called first. “I wanted to take the cottage for another two weeks.” When Bridget didn’t immediately reply, Margo’s heart skipped a beat. “If it’s still available.”
“It is,” Bridget said slowly. She seemed to frown. “Another two weeks. You sure?”
No, she wasn’t sure, not entirely, but she didn’t see much alternative either. She’d been here for a week, and in that time she still hadn’t heard from Ash, and she hadn’t reached out to him either. She didn’t know what to say. What to do. If there even was anything to say or do. It was easier to stay put.
“I—” She opened her mouth to tell Bridget how she was feeling, how she almost couldn’t believe this was her life, that she stayed awake some nights feeling like this was all some bad dream and she would wake up from it in the morning. Other times, she wrestled with the possibility that it was all some misunderstanding. After all, this was Ash. Ash the homebody. Ash who frequented the same three restaurants and always ordered the same dish. Ash who was so predictable, she could tell you which tie he wore with which suit, because he never mixed and matched. Ash liked to sit at home and read or watch television, or play golf. Ash was quiet and bookish and he never even seemed to notice a particularly attractive waitress, for example.
But then, when was the last time he’d told her that she was attractive? When was the last time she’d made a special effort, worn a new dress, or added a touch of blush, and he’d noticed?
“Oh for God’s sake!” Bridget scowled at her computer screen. “I completely forgot that tonight is my teacher conference! I was planning to take this couple out to look at starter homes, and now
I’ll have to reschedule.”
“Can…Ryan go?” Margo wasn’t sure if she should have even asked.
“He’ll have an excuse. The bar never closes, after all.” Bridget gave a heavy sigh and then sank her head into her hands. “Sometimes I just feel like it’s all piling up. One thing after another. Like I can’t handle it all on my own.”
Margo bit her lip. Bridget didn’t often appear flustered or overwhelmed. Stressed, yes, but always in control. Margo could only assume that there was a lot more going on than just a forgotten teacher conference.
“I’m sure the couple will understand. Or maybe Jeffrey could go in your place?”
Bridget shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll figure out.”
Margo paused, watching as Bridget seemed to hold in tears as she typed something on her keyboard. “I’m all ears if you want to unload.”
Bridget stopped typing, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m overreacting. I’m tired is all.” And with that, her mouth pinched tight, her chin lifted, and any hint of tears vanished.
She did seem tired, and out of sorts, but Margo knew her sister, and she knew when she was lying, or hiding something. Unlike Margo, who became all red in the face, Bridget simply shut down.
“Well, I have some errands to run,” Margo said, sensing that Bridget needed to be alone to deal with things.
Bridget stopped typing again. “You were starting to tell me something?”
Margo hesitated. The moment had passed. She brushed a hand through the air more casually than she felt by the pressure in her chest. “I’ve taken on an assignment to redo some of Dottie’s house.”
“Dottie Joyce?” Bridget gaped.
As if there were another Dottie in this town. “She approached me and she…needs help.” That was putting it mildly. Margo felt her smile return.
Bridget looked incredulous. “Huh. So you’ll do it?”
“It pays well and it won’t take long.” Margo shrugged. If she kept talking she’d get into the heart of the matter, and Bridget’s eyes were already drifting back to the computer screen. She wasn’t up for it today. “So long as the cottage is available, I’ll take it.”
Bridget didn’t question her decision further, and Margo took that as reinforcement that she shouldn’t burden her sister with her problems just now. Clearly, Bridget had enough to deal with at the moment.
She walked down Main Street, stopping in the shops, checking out the window display in the furnishing store, and making a few mental notes for when she got started on her sketches tonight. Dottie’s home was traditional, and given her passion for the historical society and the comings and goings of the town, she hoped to find some old maps of Oyster Bay, perhaps some artwork or ceramics made by a local artist that Dottie might feel a connection to. She was sentimental, Margo realized, and she certainly had a soft side. If Margo didn’t know any better, she might think all that gossiping was a cover for Dottie’s insecurities about herself. She might feel confident reporting the private lives of others, but from what Margo had observed, Dottie seemed very uncertain about her own.
Well, all the more reason she needed help. If Dottie felt comfortable letting people inside her home, she might feel better letting them into her life, which might help make her far less curious about everyone else.
The air was cold and she buttoned her borrowed coat, but the bare feet didn’t help much. Two more weeks in Oyster Bay. She’d buy some staples.
Her favorite clothing shop in town was just ahead on the corner, and Margo hurried her step, grateful for the warmth when she door closed behind her. She walked to a table lined with sweaters, and had just picked up a grey crewneck when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Eddie!” She was sure her face registered a dozen emotions at once: surprise, fear, happiness, confusion. To name a few.
“I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh?” Her cheeks were turning warm, and she doubted it had anything to do with the heat in the store. It was the way he was looking at her, his eyes deep-set and unwavering and far too intense.
“I’m sorry if I upset you at the festival,” Eddie said.
Margo smiled. “You didn’t upset me. It’s just been a confusing time for me.”
“Would a hot meal cheer you up?” Eddie asked, and Margo nearly dropped the sweater she was holding. Was he asking her out on a date? “Just as friends,” he clarified, to her mix of relief and disappointment. “What do you say? Tomorrow night? I’ll do the shopping, don’t worry.”
“Wait. You mean, you’re cooking?” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“That so hard to believe?” His grin widened. “I’ll come over. All you have to do is kick back and relax.”
Margo was still skeptical. “Well, you certainly have evolved since the last time I saw you.”
“More than you know,” he said, his eyes losing their amusement.
Margo shifted on her feet, feeling uneasy. It was easier to hold onto the memory of a boy who had broken her heart instead of allowing herself to think that all the good parts of Eddie were still there, and that he’d grown older, wiser. Better.
“It’s just dinner,” he said with a shrug. “And I promise not to poison you.”
Well, when he put it that way… “What are you making?”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, and as for what I’m making, it’s a surprise. But you’ll like it.”
“How do you know I’ll like it?” She looked at him quizzically.
“Because I know you,” he said, before turning toward the door.
He did know her. Inside and out. Even now after all these years. There were gaps, stories that could be filled in, experiences that could be shared, but the core of her, the heart of her…had always been a part of him, hadn’t it?
“Eight o’clock?” He was watching her.
“Eight o’clock,” she said, blinking rapidly. “I’m at the white cottage on Sea Glass Lane.”
“I know,” Eddie said with a grin. “Dottie told me.”
Margo stood in the store, holding her bag, staring at the door as Eddie disappeared onto the sidewalk.
She set the sweater back on the table and walked over to the blouses hanging on the wall.
If she was having dinner with Eddie, she might need to buy more than just a sensible pair of shoes.
Chapter Twelve
Even though his shift ended at four on Wednesdays, Eddie usually stuck around for a bit, sharing some laughs with Sylvia or pushing paperwork, avoiding the inevitable return to his empty apartment and the thoughts that tended to encroach when he got there. The ones that said he had no excuse not to be at Serenity Hills right now instead.
But tonight, Eddie had legitimate plans. He pushed through the doors of The Corner Market, Oyster Bay’s gourmet grocer in the heart of the town center. Usually the striped awning, piped café music, and outdoor flower stand intimidated him—besides, regardless of what he’d told Margo, most of his meals came from the pizza joint down the street or the take and bake section of the nearest Hannaford.
He grunted as he grabbed a cart, telling himself he’d be in and out in ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. He glanced over his shoulder as he approached the cheese display, which was set up like a French food stall, right down to the chalkboard sign that listed this week’s special varieties.
If Sylvia caught wind of this, she’d never let him forget it.
He took the first cheese his hand touched, then, with another glance out the window, took a moment to consider his options. Brie. Gruyere. Some things he couldn’t pronounce. He read a few of the flowery descriptions, smiling to himself, even though they did help him, loath as he was to admit it.
Next he moved onto the produce section where he quickly found some grapes to go with the cheese, and ingredients for a salad. All that was left was the fish and the dessert. See, this wasn’t really a big deal at all.
“Eddie?”
; He turned, hoping it wasn’t Sylvia, even though rationally he knew that it wasn’t her voice. Sylvia’s voice was more of a growl. Husky and deep and just threatening enough to keep her looking tough for her job—and her kids.
“Aunt Lori.” He exhaled in relief.
She laughed. “I don’t bite.”
“Sorry, just startled.” He grinned. “I’m a little out of my element here.”
“What’s the occasion?” Lori looked down to inspect his cart, and then gave him a suggestive look. “A date?”
“No.” Not really, at least. “Just…dinner.”
“Seems like a date to me!” Lori laughed when Eddie frowned and reached over to playfully swat his arm. “Don’t mind me, it’s none of my business. But don’t be mad at me for getting my hopes up a bit.”
“Your hopes?” Was she really that desperate to marry him off?
“Oh, you know…I guess I thought that if you found a nice girl in town, you might settle down here. I’ve liked having you back in Oyster Bay. And believe it or not, so has Steve.”
Eddie wasn’t so sure about that. After all, wasn’t it his Uncle Steve that refused to take him back in all those years ago? “It’s okay, Lori. You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know that I let you guys down all those years ago.”
Lori looked surprised, and then hurt. “More like we felt we let you down. Steve sent you away to straighten you out, to help you. That’s all we ever wanted for you.”
Eddie pulled in a breath. Tough love. He understood. He’d practiced it himself in recent years.
“We’d always hoped you’d come back to town. And now…well, here you are.” She smiled.
“Here I am.” Eddie swallowed hard. Mick had emailed that afternoon, with more details of the job. It was everything that Eddie could have dreamed of and more. The chance to really do some good. To set up programs, clean up the streets, make a name for himself. Rewrite history.
“I hope she enjoys it, whoever she is.” Lori wiggled her eyebrows, and Eddie managed a grin.