To the left, a tall trellis separates the grounds from the driveway. I peer through the lattice where the van sits, which means Cade’s most likely around here too. Tilly said he might go sightseeing with us. I hope he does.
The path leads straight to a stone cottage that looks like a miniature version of the main house. The door sits open, and I peek my head in. “Hello?”
“Back here,” Beth yells.
I step into a cozy living room with a huge window that overlooks the bay. A painting hangs on the wall. It’s realistic, colorful depiction reminds me of the one in my room and the others I’ve seen scattered around The Pepper House. This one shows a young couple riding bikes along a cliff. Laughing, the couple extends their arms, trying to touch fingers as they speed along the road. Like before, I find myself wanting to crawl right in and participate in the fun.
“Hey,” Beth says from behind me and I turn around to see Cade standing beside her. Wearing rubber gloves and holding a rag, she nods to the painting. “Isn’t it great?”
“It’s more than great. I’ve seen the same work around the house. I’ve been meaning to ask Tilly who the artist is.”
With a shrug, she looks at Cade. “Any idea?”
He shakes his head, crossing over to where his toolbox sits on the floor.
I turn back to the painting. “Well, whoever it is, he or she is very talented. They’re amazing.”
“Yeah,” Beth agrees. “I always think they look alive with energy.”
“There’s lots more of this artist’s work around the island,” Frederick says. “You’ll see when we go sightseeing.”
We all look at the painting a few seconds longer and then Beth turns to check out my green plaid shorts and matching polo shirt. “Your suitcase came.”
I nod at the obvious.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
Frederick claps his hands. “Okay, let’s get this sightseeing on the road.” He looks at Beth. “Do you want to come?”
“Better not. I still have a lot to do around here.”
“You in?” he asks Cade next, and I hold my breath.
Please be in.
Cade closes his toolbox and latches the lid. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
Chapter 10
Cade, Frederick, and I head out front and climb in the van. Cade cranks the engine, and we pull away from The Pepper House onto the coastal highway.
“So what’s the game plan?” I ask.
“We’re going to cruise the coast.” Frederick scoots up from the back. “Then show you around downtown.”
Cade follows that with, “Just yell if you see anything you want to look at, and we’ll stop. Cool?”
“Cool.” With a smile, I take in the ocean sparkling out my passenger-side window. Wind flows in, seagulls squawk, and the ocean laps to shore.
I sigh. “Gorgeous.”
“Nature at it's purest and most wonderful,” Cade agrees.
I look over at him, surprised he’d say something so insightful.
“Great diving.” Cade points past me.
Roughly fifty feet off the shore giant boulders tower out of the ocean. Snorkels bob in the water as people float belly-down, staring at the underwater sights.
I’ve been snorkeling many times but never diving. “You certified?” I ask, and he nods. I turn to Frederick. “You?”
“Nah, but I can snorkel with the best of them.”
“I’ve always been sort of afraid of scuba diving,” I admit.
Cade glances at me. “Why’s that?”
“It just seems so far down.”
“It’s not so bad.” He glances off to the right.
I follow his line of sight as a small marina comes into view. It stretches into the ocean, bracketed in on three sides by a natural rocky barrier. I count twenty boats in all.
“You mind if we stop? Gwenny loves sailing. I should get some pictures for her.”
Cade doesn’t answer me at first as he stares hard at the marina and attached parking lot.
“Cade?”
He brings his blue eyes to mine. “Um, yeah, if you want.”
Pulling the van in, he parks it near a small wooden building with OFFICE printed across the door. Only four vehicles sit in the lot, all rusted by the salt spray.
Frederick slides open the side door. “Anybody want drinks?”
I nod as I climb out. “Sure. Something lemon-lime for me.”
“I’m fine,” Cade replies.
As my cousin goes over to the drink machine, I head down the dock. It’s only as I’m a few boats in do I realize Cade stayed in the van. Turning, I see him sitting behind the wheel staring at me.
You coming? I mouth, and he shakes his head.
I continue on, passing mostly sailboats. Small ones, big ones. Some well cared for, others decrepit. Quite a few have people living on them, from the looks of the outdoor carpeting, potted plants, and moss growing on the sides. A few more are obvious transits with their foreign flags flying and owners doing minor repairs.
With my phone, I snap off a few pictures and send them to Gwenny.
At the end of the dock towers a powerboat that I guess to be one hundred feet in length. A large man stands with his feet braced apart and a tight shirt stretched over his bulging muscles. Even though dark glasses hide his eyes, I get the distinct impression he’s watching me.
“Hello,” I say, eyeing the monstrous boat behind him.
“No further, miss, this is a private area.”
“Of course. Have a good afternoon.” I turn back around, more than curious who’s on the boat. A movie star? A politician?
Halfway back down the dock, I hear, “Wouldn’t let you on, would he?”
To the right, a sailboat floats tied up to the dock. I guess it to be about thirty-five feet. With its hammock tied between two masts, canvases stretched for shade, and homey feel, I assume the person lives on it.
A tall skinny man with long blond hair and sun-leathered skin nods at me. He looks to be around forty or so and has a pooched belly that comes from too much beer.
Holding my hand up to shade the sun, I look up at him. “Hello.”
“Wouldn’t let you on?” he asks again.
“Oh, I didn’t want to go on. He did tell me to turn around, though.” I glance back at the huge powerboat. “Any idea who’s on it?”
“It just pulled in yesterday. There’ve only been workers out and about.” The man runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it into a ponytail, and then wraps a rubber band around it.
“Well, better get back, I guess.”
“You here on vacation?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.”
He laughs at that. “I can’t recall the last time someone called me sir.”
I smile a little.
He gestures up the dock to where the van still sits with Cade behind the wheel and Frederick now back inside. “Staying at The Pepper House?”
“Yes, my aunt owns it.”
The man smiles, showing a few missing teeth. He seems too young to be missing teeth. “Let me guess: Elizabeth Margaret?”
“Yes…”
He laughs at my surprised expression. “Small island.”
I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, everyone knowing one another’s business.
“I’m Sid, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Sid.”
He glances back up the dock. “Well, you oughta get. I’m sure Cade is up there waitin’. You come back sometime for a visit if you like. Maybe I’ll know who’s on that boat by then.”
With a wave, I find my way back up the dock. I’ve just met the man, but a visit with him does sound like an intriguing idea. I’ve always wondered about people who live on sailboats—what kind of life they have, their stories, how they came to live that way, what they do for a living.
“I see you met Sid,” Cade says as I open the van door and climb in.
“Yes, he seems like an okay
man.”
Cade gives a noncommittal grunt.
I look over my shoulder at Frederick, who becomes inordinately focused on his soda. Okay, what’s going on here?
Putting the van in gear, Cade slowly pulls out of the parking lot.
I glance out my open window and down the dock to where Sid still stands in the same spot on his boat, watching us drive off. “You two know each other?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Cade shifts gears. “Just do me a favor? Stay clear of him.” He accelerates down the coastal highway, picking up speed, and passes a couple of bikes. “He’s not a nice man.”
Chapter 11
Cade cranks on his reggae music, making it more than clear he isn’t talking any more on the subject of Sid.
As soon as we get back to The Pepper House, I’m definitely asking Aunt Tilly about the man on the sailboat and why, exactly, Cade warned me to stay away.
We complete the tour of the coastline. He turns off onto a narrow paved road covered on both sides by thick greenery and oleander in shades of red, pink, and white. Through the greenery, I make out cottages, much like the two my aunt rents out.
Cade turns down the music. “Some of the island’s older families live in those.”
The narrow road opens onto a hillside covered in rectangular above-ground stone graves. Nearly every grave looks well-tended with fresh flowers. I’ve seen graves like this before in some of my travels with my parents, but the sight always gives me goosebumps.
Frederick leans up from the backseat. “It’s strange, but I’ve always liked graveyards.”
“Me, too. It’s the—”
“History,” my cousin finishes for me. “Isn’t it amazing the names, the relations, and how they died?” Frederick’s voice trails off as he ponders the headstones.
Here I thought I was the only graveyard freak in the family.
“You two are weird,” Cade says, rolling forward in the van.
Frederick and I exchange a smile, and he nods out the front window. “Don’t miss this.”
We peak the hillside, and I catch my breath. “Oh my goodness, that view is amazing.”
Cade turns the music off, and we sit in the idling van, staring out over the entire island. In all directions to the horizon spans the vibrant blue ocean. Green covers every inch with trees, bushes, ivy, and plants in every shade imaginable.
Stone cottages and buildings sit tucked in here and there, some tiny, others medium-sized, and yet others like The Pepper House with lots of space and outbuildings.
A number of small bays, like the one near my aunt’s place, cut into the island. Smack dab in the center sits a cluster of colorful buildings that I assume to be the historical township. All the way to my right sprawls a huge resort, looking so out of place and dominating in this unique setting.
Straight across I make out the marina where Sid and his boat floats and, to the left, the airport.
I breathe out a content sigh. “This place reminds me of Bermuda.”
“Any further out into the Atlantic and it would be Bermuda,” Frederick says.
Cade puts the van in gear and starts down the hill. “Let’s go see our big metropolis.”
Minutes later we drive into town. The number of people on the streets surprises me. From our hilltop view, it appeared as though the place sat empty, but Anna Island is doing a thriving tourist trade.
Myriad shops line the cobblestone streets, all mom-and-pop, family-owned places—restaurants, clothing stores, knickknack sellers, and a variety of others. I see no chain establishments. I like it that way. It gives it an old-world feeling.
“You’ll find none of your fancy designer stuff here,” Cade jokes.
Playfully, I narrow my eyes, but his comment strikes me. Is that how he sees me? All snobby fashionista? I do have a lot of designer clothes that Mom has bought me, or rather approved for me to wear. If I had my way, well, I’m not sure what my style would be.
I glance down at my plaid shorts and coordinating polo, suddenly embarrassed. I wish I had on another one of my aunt’s flowy dresses.
Giggles have me gazing out the front windshield, where a pack of girls I guess to be twelve or thirteen have gathered outside an ice-cream shop.
“Hi, Cade,” one flirts, and all the others giggle again.
Cade gives them an acknowledging wave.
“Aren’t they a little young for you?” I tease.
“He gets that everywhere we go,” Frederick grumbles.
Heck, I’d probably giggle too, if I were thirteen again. That half-grin thing he has going on is definitely giggle-worthy.
Cade pulls the van over and cuts the engine. Opening his door, he climbs out. “You guys going to be okay? I’ve got a few things to do.”
“Sure thing. Meet you at the art gallery in an hour,” Frederick says.
I watch Cade stroll away, bummed he’s not joining me and Frederick.
My cousin motions between two buildings. “We’ll head this way and then cut across to Key Street. That’s where the tourists always hit when they come. Not so much us locals, but you’ve got to have your share of the touristy thing.”
“So what’s up with Sid?” I ask, following my cousin. “Why doesn’t Cade want me around him?”
“Mm, it’s not really my thing to tell. Cade’s right, though. You should probably stay away from him.”
“It’s all very mysterious.”
“Not really. Just family stuff.”
“Family. Seems like that’s the theme of this summer. Ya know, cuz, I think you and my sister would really get along. It’s a shame we didn’t all grow up together.”
He looks over at me. “Yeah, it is. Maybe things can be different now that you and I know each other.”
“Maybe,” I agree, but I don’t see how. Not with my parents, Grandmother, and Tilly barely talking.
We spend the next thirty minutes or so weaving in and out of stores, meeting the locals, and enjoying the laid-back vibe.
To my surprise, nearly every person knows who I am and that I’m here for the month. It makes me feel very at home. As if I’ve been missing this small-town camaraderie my entire life.
As the hour and the afternoon draws to an end, Frederick leads me into the last store on Key Street, a gallery of paintings and sculptures. He walks over to look at a new display of Civil War sketches, and I meander through the remaining three rooms, appreciating the artistry.
I take a slow walk around the last room, round a display case of scrimshaw, and come face-to-face with a painting by the same artist who did the ones hanging in The Pepper House.
I’ve never really been into the specifics of brushstrokes, pastels, oils, and canvases, but I appreciate art with the best of them. One thing I do know, no other art has ever drawn me in as these paintings do.
I’m not sure if it’s the whirl of colors, the real-life depiction, or the honesty in the people’s faces. They move me, pure and simple. They speak to my heart. Whoever the artist, he or she has an amazing talent.
“May I help you?” a lady asks from behind me.
“Who painted this?”
“A local artist.”
I keep looking at the painting, smiling at the preteen couple as they hold hands and leap from a cliff into the water below. Though I can’t actually hear them, their laughter echoes around me.
“You ready?” Cade asks, and I glance past the woman to where he stands with Frederick behind him.
I point to the painting. “Isn’t this incredible?”
Cade gives it a cursory glance. “It’s all right, I guess if you’re into that sort of thing.” He heads toward the exit. “Meet you guys outside.”
I turn to the lady when Cade’s gone. “Thank you. Your gallery is lovely.”
“You come back anytime.”
Minutes later I climb back in the van, Cade flips on his reggae, and we make our way home.
Sticking my arm out the window, I ride the wind with my hand, loving the warm
th and sense of freedom that a hand out the window gives. I won’t take anything for granted while I’m here. I’ll savor every moment.
Sometime later we pull up to The Pepper House.
Domino glances up as we walk into the kitchen. “Got your note.”
I grimace. “Are you mad?”
“Not so much.” He gives me a playful disciplinary look. “I don’t mind what you did, but next time check with me.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Em, it was absolutely awesome!” Beth says from where she sits on a barstool.
“Everybody did love it.” Domino waggles his spoon at me. “I want you down here first thing in the morning. Your aunt told me cooking is your hobby. Can’t say I’m surprised, given that palate of yours. But let’s see how much of a hobby it is. You are now officially my sous chef.”
My jaw drops. “Really?”
Domino nods. “I’m giving you a new challenge. You wow me over the next week and I’ll let you plan and make Sunday’s brunch two weeks from now.”
Is he for real?
Beth slides off the barstool. “It’ll be fun. We can go to the farmers’ market the day before and buy everything.”
But I have to wow Domino first.
“Mm, and we’ve got the best fresh fish,” she says.
Fresh fish? My mind drifts as I think of all the possibilities—dill haddock, Irish cod, planked salmon.
Cade snatches a brownie off a plate that sits on the center island. “Uh-oh. Watch out. I see her wheels turning.”
If I do the salmon I can make sour cream and caviar sauce.
Aunt Tilly swings through the kitchen doors. “Wow, the whole family’s here.”
“Em’s making Sunday brunch!” Beth announces.
Tilly shoots Domino a surprised look. “You’re letting someone else make our Sunday brunch?”
“Two weeks from now. What can I say?” He shrugs. “I’m feeling generous. But that’s only if she proves she can handle it. I’ve made her my sous chef.”
“Sous chef? How cool are you?” She gives me one affirmative nod. “You can handle it.”
“We’re going to the farmers’ market the Saturday before to buy everything,” Beth tells her.
“Farmers’ market?” Aunt Tilly perks up. “I’m in. I’ve been so busy around here I haven’t had a chance to visit our market in probably a month.”
Em (The Summer My Life Began Book 1) Page 5