Making Waves

by Meredith Summers

  Andie loved taking flowers from the gardens at Tides to her mother. It was fitting, too, since her mother had been the one to foster her interest in gardening in the first place.

  Today she’d picked a small bouquet of black-eyed Susans and purple cone flowers and put them in one of her grandmother’s vases to bring for Addie. The flowers always cheered her mother, and it felt like she was keeping her in touch with the gardens she’d cherished so much.

  “These are lovely, dear!” Addie’s face lit up as she took the vase from Andie. She sniffed the flowers, closing her eyes, her smile widening. Then she examined the vase. “Don’t tell Nona you are using one of her good vases. She’ll scold you.”

  “It will be our secret.” Andie wasn’t worried. Nona had died decades ago.

  Andie reached for the Sandcastles bakery bag on the small desk under the window. She’d seen Jane grab the bag on her way out with Mike to visit Tall Pines and figured Claire had supplied her with a few fresh muffins for Addie. Too bad the bag was empty. She was hungry and could have used one of those chocolate chip muffins.

  When she’d been picking the flowers, she’d seen Jane and Claire talking to Maxi’s husband on the back porch at Tides. Looked like they were in quite the conversation. Andie wondered what that was about. Maxi and James were going through a hard time. Was he trying to weasel his way back in? Andie didn’t need to worry about him pulling any shenanigans, though. She’d seen Sally join the conversation, and the old woman was sharp. She wouldn’t let James pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, if, in fact, that was what he was doing.

  A knock on the door drew Andie from her thoughts.

  Standing in the doorway was a tiny woman with wispy white hair. She had a thick maroon cardigan wrapped around her despite the fact that it was summer and the air conditioning was barely on. She had an intricate silver box clutched to her chest.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Her voice was timid. “Are you the girl that knows about antiques?”

  The question took her by surprise. Had Rita mentioned her to the woman? “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m Gloria Farnsworth. I was hoping you could look at this box for me.” The woman held the box out. Even from eight feet away, Andie could see it was a high-quality piece with an intricate raised design.

  “Of course, come in.” Andie glanced at Addie.

  “Yes, please do come in.” Addie gestured for Gloria to enter.

  Gloria shuffled over to Andie and handed her the box. Andie dug out her reading glasses and started to inspect it. Turning it over, she saw the English silver hallmarks for pieces made in Birmingham in 1890. “It’s solid silver and old.”

  She inspected the sides and top. It was in great condition, the raised floral decoration very intricate. The inside was lined with cobalt-blue velvet in near perfect condition with only a few spots of wear.

  “It was my grandmother’s. She always said it was worth a lot.” Gloria sounded hopeful.

  “It is a very nice piece and in good condition. I would say it has some value.” Andie guessed it was worth around a thousand dollars. The silver alone was valuable, but the craftsmanship of the piece itself raised that value, and knowing the provenance added to that even more.

  “More than twenty-five dollars?” Gloria asked.

  “Twenty-five! Yes, I would say around a thousand.”

  Gloria frowned. “Are you sure? Damien Carruthers said it’s only worth twenty-five, and he would give me twenty.”

  “Who is Damien Carruthers?” Andie already didn’t like the man if he was ripping off little old ladies. But maybe he was just not very good at valuing antiques.

  “He has an ad in the classifieds to appraise antiques,” Gloria said.

  “Well, I might get a second opinion if I were you.” Andie handed the box back. “It’s worth considerably more. Of course, a dealer buying it couldn’t pay one thousand, but I think you could get five or six hundred.”

  “Really?” Gloria looked quite pleased. “I’d sell it to you for five. I was hoping to use the money to pay for my granddaughter’s 4H camp this fall.”

  “Oh, sorry, but I don’t have a shop or anything, so I’m not in the market to make purchases. Do you have someone who can take it to a shop for you?” Since Gloria appeared to be a resident at Tall Pines, Andie figured she needed assistance.

  “My daughter can help me, but she said the only shop in Lobster Bay is closed.”

  “Maybe take it to Portland? There are some high-end shops there that might give you a good price.”

  “Okay, thanks so much.” Gloria nodded at Addie and shuffled out into the hall.

  Andie watched her leave, a smile spreading on her face. It had felt good to help the woman. She’d had a brief moment of hoping the silver box might have been one of those rare finds she’d spent her life searching for, but helping the woman get a fair price had its own rewards. If she ever ran into this Carruthers person, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

  Outside the doorway, another resident was lingering.

  “Well, what did she say?” the woman asked Gloria.

  “You were right. It is worth a lot more.”

  The woman glanced in at Andie. “Do you think she’d look at my mother’s figurines?”

  Andie could hardly refuse the woman. “I’d be happy to look at them.”

  “Oh! I see you’ve found her.” Rita wheeled up to them and looked up at Andie. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Gloria and Mae that you were an antique expert. I told them their things are much more valuable than Damien said. That guy is a snake.”

  Goria flushed. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, Rita, but Damien seemed so sincere.”

  “Yeah, he can be very persuasive, and I realize you can’t actually shop around.” Rita turned to Andie. “What Lobster Bay needs is a good reputable antique dealer these folks can come to.”

  Rita had a point. Apparently there was a need for someone to take in antiques here in town. It wasn’t as glamorous as working for a prestigious auction house, but Andie was starting to think that Lobster Bay had a lot more to offer than New York City, and her time at Christies had proven that prestige might be overrated.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maxi’s excitement over showing Jane and Claire her cottage faded as soon as her friends arrived. Something was wrong, something they didn’t want to come right out and tell her. She could tell by the awkward way they were acting.

  “This place is adorable!” Jane exclaimed as she handed Maxi the lobster dip she’d brought.

  “And Rembrandt too!” Claire picked up the kitten and held him up to her face, smiling and cooing at him. Rembrandt purred and acted adorable as usual.

  “It’s small, but so far I’m enjoying it here.” She really was. Okay, she missed James a little, but every time her thoughts turned to him, she shoved them away. The sooner she stopped thinking about him, the better.

  “I think it’s perfect, and the scenery can’t be beat.” Claire nodded to the ocean view outside the sliding-glass door.

  “It needs work, but since it’s not mine, I’m not putting a lot of money in. I don’t mind fixing a few things, though, because it belongs to Hailey’s grandpa.” Maxi herded them toward the small bedroom, showing them the tiny bathroom along the way. “Of course, I decorated with my own comforter, throw rugs, and some things on the wall.”

  “It’s very cottage chic,” Jane said.

  “Thanks.” Maxi pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge and grabbed three glasses. “Let’s go out on the patio.”

  Claire put Rembrandt down and picked up the plate she’d brought, which was loaded with bite-sized pieces of cake. She held the door open for Maxi and Jane, blocking Rembrandt’s exit with her foot.

  The patio was Maxi’s favorite part of the cottage. It was made of concrete pavers and sat level with the beach. That meant the sand often encroached on the edges, but Maxi had swept it away before the girls arrived.

  Claire and Jane
gasped at the painting on the easel. Maxi had to admit that she’d outdone herself. The colors were vibrant, and she’d captured the light perfectly. It was still wet—acrylic paintings took a while to dry—but that wasn’t why she’d left it outside. She’d wanted her friends to see it in the natural light.

  Claire turned from the painting. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “Stunning.” Jane tilted her head as she inspected it.

  “Thanks. It’s easier than I thought getting back into the swing of painting. This is the first one for the gallery show. I hope the other two come as easy.”

  They settled into the white wooden beach chairs that were arranged in a semicircle and filled their glasses. Maxi loaded a cracker with lobster dip. Jane took a piece of cake.

  Maxi washed down the cracker with a sip of wine then gave her friends a pointed look. “Okay, out with it. I know you two have something on your minds.”

  Claire and Jane exchanged a glance, and Maxi’s stomach tightened. Hopefully they weren’t going to try to talk her out of living here in the cottage. She was too emotionally invested in her new life now. But they wouldn’t want her to go back to a cheater. Maybe they’d found out that James was even worse than she’d thought. That he’d been cheating for years with several people. Maxi’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she braced herself for the worst.

  “James didn’t cheat on you,” Claire blurted out.

  “Huh?” Maxi stared, stunned. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear.

  “We talked to him, and he explained about the card,” Jane said.

  “Sure, I just bet he did. Don’t tell me you guys fell for some lame lie?”

  Jane leaned forward and slathered dip on a cracker. “Of course not. We were skeptical at first too. But, Maxi, if you had seen him...”

  “Yeah. He’s a mess,” Claire said.

  Maxi wasn’t buying it. “What about the card I found in his pocket?”

  Jane glanced at Claire, who nodded, then said, “That wasn’t a phone number. It was the price.”

  “The price of what?”

  “A cottage.”

  Aha! That proved he was lying. “We weren’t buying a cottage.”

  “Not that you knew about. James was trying to surprise you.” Claire leaned forward and touched Maxi’s arm, her eyes brimming with sincerity. “James had noticed that you were unhappy, and he was trying to do things to make you happier. That’s why he suggested you take up art again.”

  “And why he was working so much. He was trying to get a project done quickly so he could take you on a trip,” Jane said.

  Maxi’s gaze flicked from Jane to Claire and back again. They wouldn’t make light of James cheating, and for them to come here on his behalf... well, they must believe him.

  “Seriously? I feel like a jerk now. At least I didn’t accuse him of it to his face or spread it around town.” Maxi drank down the rest of her wine then refilled her glass.

  “He was kind of shocked that you thought he was cheating.”

  Maxi’s heart was flooded with guilt. “I feel so awful. Poor James. But still…” She looked around the patio, at her painting and the cottage. And Rembrandt curled up on the back of the couch. In the few days she’d been here, she’d felt like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. She was starting a new life, and she was afraid there might not be room for James in it. “I’m not sure I want to give everything up and go back. I’m afraid.”

  Jane frowned. “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid that I’ll lose the momentum I’ve made with my art. Afraid that maybe I don’t really love James like I used to. Afraid that if I go back, things will go back to the way they were, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

  To their credit, Jane and Claire didn’t try to talk her into it. Maxi needed to figure this out on her own. Yes, she owed James an apology, but things hadn’t been all roses between them regardless. She wasn’t ready to just go back to their house and move in like nothing had happened. Not now and maybe not ever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maxi stared at the phone in her hand. She’d called James to apologize, and he’d taken it a lot better than she’d expected. He’d been quieter than she expected, too, probably because his feelings were hurt. She felt like a heel.

  “I kind of thought he’d ask me to come back,” Maxi said to Rembrandt, who was on the coffee table batting at one of her charcoal pencils.

  The cat looked up at her as if to ask how she felt about that. Maxi wasn’t sure. Now that she realized James wasn’t a cheater, her move to the cottage seemed overly drastic. But there had been something wrong with their relationship, and she was enjoying her freedom. It had only been a few days, but she wasn’t the same person she’d been when she left James.

  Would James still want the new Maxi? And, more importantly, did the new Maxi want to go back to her old life?

  Oh well, nothing like immersing yourself in a painting to let the subconscious work those things out. Maxi took her palette and brushes out to the patio, where the canvas for her second painting for the art gallery opening awaited. She’d already sketched in the craggy rocks, crashing waves, and one lone seagull. She took a minute to set up the paints then grabbed her palette and mixed cerulean blue with yellow ochre for the cresting wave.

  It would take several hours to lay in the basics, then she’d let it dry for a while before adding the highlights tomorrow. That would be just about the right timing to visit the Purple Blueberry for that wine tasting this afternoon.

  Yesterday she’d been excited to step out to the trendy bohemian bar, something she’d always wanted to do. But today her feelings were apprehensive. In thirty years of marriage, she’d hardly gone anywhere without James at her side, and suddenly it felt like she would be missing a part of her.

  But the Purple Blueberry wasn’t a place that James would ever want to visit. It wasn’t a place where one wore neatly pressed chinos and golf shirts. But it was a place where Maxi had always thought she’d fit in.

  She felt as if she were standing on the very cliff she was painting, looking down at the ocean of her future. If she went back to James, what would become of that future? All the things she wanted—to immerse herself in creativity and find new like-minded friends and activities—might be pushed out of her reach. But yet, she couldn’t imagine a future without James. Now that the sting of thinking he had cheated on her had worn off, she realized she still loved him.

  She didn’t want to lose him, but more than that, she didn’t want to lose herself.

  How in the world have I let myself get talked into this? James wondered as he stood in Montgomery’s Department Store, his gaze shifting between the selections of clothing Claire and Jane held up.

  James hated shopping. He usually just ordered things at O’Malley’s Men’s Shop. They knew his measurements. He’d pick out a suit, and Ted would tailor it for him. Casual clothing was off the rack. He always bought the same thing. But Claire and Jane and that odd handywoman, Sally, had insisted he needed to change his image.

  He supposed they were right. Maxi had looked more casual the last time he saw her, and Rob and Mike didn’t dress up like he did. Had he become a stodgy old man as Sally had implied?

  “I like this and this.” He pointed at a pair of jeans that looked old and faded and a black T-shirt with gray stitching that made it look more tailored than a regular tee.

  “I’ll go grab some similar items.” Sally pushed off from the rack she’d been leaning against and disappeared into the store.

  “So how did Maxi seem when you saw her?” James asked Jane and Claire. He’d told them about Maxi’s apology call and had even earned an awkward slap on the back from Sally when he’d explained how he'd managed to not appear too eager. Sally had advised him against begging her to come back home like he’d wanted to. She seemed to think that playing hard to get was the way to go.

  James wasn’t into games like that, but then again, he also knew nothing about wome
n, and since Jane and Claire both agreed with Sally, he’d reluctantly gone along. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but Picasso had been there to lend him moral support. The cat must have felt sorry for him because after the call he'd even let out a few purrs, the first time ever.

  Pretending to be cool, calm, and collected, as if Maxi’s absence wasn’t killing him, had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

  “She did feel terrible about suspecting you.” Claire held a sky-blue shirt up under his chin and glanced at Jane for approval.

  “That one brings out your blue eyes,” Jane said. “She seemed like she was settling in to the cottage, but I got the impression she misses you.”

  “She’s just having too much fun exploring her freedom,” Sally piped in as she piled three more pairs of pants into James’s arms.

  “It’s going to take her a while to adjust. She was getting all geared up to hate you,” Claire said. “In the meantime, we’re going to help you out so you're well positioned to win her back.

  “Thanks.” James looked down at the pile of clothes. “Updating my appearance is good, I guess, but I feel like I need to take some kind of action.”

  “Don’t worry, we have that covered too.” Sally pushed him toward the changing room. “See, the thing is you need to show Maxi that you’re willing to change. To make the relationship better for her. To give her everything she needs to live her best life.”

  “Okay.” James drew out the word. “But how do I do that? Should I write a note? Send some flowers? Call her?”

  Sally shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No. You show her by doing. Once we find your perfect outfit, you’re going to run into Maxi on her own territory and show her you can be part of her new life.”

  “I am?” James asked.

  “Yeah, you are.” Claire motioned for him to go into the dressing room. “Don’t forget to come out and show us what each outfit looks like on.”

  James felt stupid changing outfits and parading around in front of Maxi’s friends. But if it helped get her back, he’d do it. “So how am I going to run into her on her territory?”