Keepsake for Eagle Cove

by M. L. Buchman

  She’d asked Devin and Maggie Winslow to meet her at Becky’s brewery after the end of the Flameagle Days Festival. And that had necessitated asking Becky. Who in turn had invited Natalya and Jessica, who had brought their husbands and parents…so Gina, Cal Sr., Jessica’s parents, and Judge and Peggy Slater were in attendance as well. Even Hector had docked from his last sailing charter to sit close beside Maggie.

  Sixteen people—seventeen if she had counted herself but that number was entirely too big so she didn’t. She hadn’t addressed such a large crowd since mock-trials in law school.

  It was a convivial group who had made her mother welcome and she would be forever grateful to them.

  And her mother hadn’t been merely gracious in return, she’d been…real. The way Tiffany had remembered her when still a child.

  “I—” she looked at Devin in a plea for assistance.

  He shot her a double thumbs up as if that helped anything.

  “I’m not a good public speaker.”

  “You barely speak at all,” Natalya corrected.

  “Hush, Natya,” Becky nodded to Tiffany. “You’re doing great, Tiff. Rock on.”

  “You couldn’t know, but my real name is—”

  “Lillian,” Maggie Winslow said in wonder.

  “What?” Tiffany looked at her in surprise, but Maggie Winslow wasn’t looking at her. She was looking up at the big mural above Becky’s bar.

  “You’re the spitting image of Lillian Lamont.”

  “No way,” Natalya protested. “I reproduced that from a historic photo.”

  Tiffany looked up at the painting. The two women there, dressed as Victorian ladies, didn’t look anything alike. But the older one could have been Tiffany’s twin. Right down to the long hair. A copy of the same photo had been in Lillian’s journal and was the reason Tiffany had grown it out. She’d never noticed because it was a little too much like looking in the mirror.

  “How is that possible?” Maggie pointed at the mural but was facing Tiffany.

  Tiffany had known this moment was coming and knew she wouldn’t have the nerves to tell the story herself. So she’d brought her four-times-great-grandmother’s journal. Now she opened it and handed it to Devin who’d agreed to read the marked passage for her.

  He rose to stand beside her and cleared his throat. The room went silent.

  “This is the journal of Lillian Lamont,” Devin began. “Tiffany’s direct ancestor.”

  August 1900

  I must leave this town and not return until my child is born. It can never be known to my dearest Pearl that she and I will give birth to half siblings, both sired by a dead man. I sail for San Francisco today. I cannot even bear to speak with her or see her for fear I will not have the strength to hold true to my purpose.

  Devin turned to the next page she’d marked.

  December 31, 1900

  This year opened with a herald of such joy. My Pearl in her own home, preparing for a voyage that may yet cause Eagle Cove to thrive.

  Now I am a woman in desperate fear of what has begun. I am old to bear a child, yet I would give anything but this unborn child’s life if I could see my Pearl once more. I have prepared for every eventuality. Over my solicitor’s protests, I have charged him with the care of my child should I not survive.

  If my child lives, it shall have the San Francisco share and my beloved Pearl the Eagle Cove share of all we may achieve. As they are of near equal value, I have instructed him that this is to be done by severing the corporation into two separate entities so that neither child shall know of the other. Ever! However, if my child survives and is a girl, she and her descendants must always retain the Lamont name so that someday the breach may be sealed that lies beyond my power to repair.

  “A different hand writes next,” Devin’s soft tone carried easily through the stilled room.

  January 1, 1901

  It is with saddened heart that I record the death this date of Lillian Lamont.

  Yet with gladdened heart do I record the birth of Tiffany Lamont, so named by her mother from her deathbed.

  He closed the journal softly and handed it back to her before sitting once more.

  “I am named for both my ancestors, Lillian Tiffany Lamont. This,” Tiffany squeezed the book hard, looking for strength, “I found this shelved in the family library when I was twelve and seeking an escape from…”

  She saw her mother cower against the coming blow. They had spoken of it earlier, just the two of them, sitting quietly in the jet—Devin insisting that she was strong enough and must face this moment.

  Sitting stone-faced in the luxurious leather, her mother had sworn that she didn’t know. “Carl was always so charming. But there were certain events that he didn’t care for, or so he said. No symphony or ballet for him, nor opera, nor social events with my friends—only with his. I now understand. I didn’t then. I didn’t even believe you when you charged him and they took away my husband. But I do now. I cannot beg forgiveness, not even from myself for being so blind, but I am so sorry for it.”

  Tiffany understood now that the stone-faced expression had been her mother’s only place of safety in her ever so public life, trying to hide as desperately as Tiffany had in her woods. She nodded to her mother now. Perhaps Vivian could not forgive herself, but perhaps Tiffany could.

  “This book helped me when I was seeking an escape from that period of my life,” Tiffany explained to the waiting crowd, creating closure. She was now done with that.

  Her mother began to silently cry, but they shared a tentative smile.

  “This journal was unmarked on the binding and unremembered for most of a century. It has been my keepsake, my strength, for many years.”

  She looked at Devin, who watched her with the warmest brown eyes and a rapt attention that she’d never dreamed of. He hadn’t yet healed the breach between Tiffany and her mother, but he’d made it possible for her to imagine that it might someday be.

  “I have found a new source of strength,” she told the crowd but she saw only Devin and his confirming nod that he would be just that.

  Then she stepped over to Maggie Winslow.

  “You declared yourself the keeper of Eagle Cove’s history. Here is the founding as told by a woman I have come to love very much.” And she handed over the volume. It was like relinquishing herself, but it was also like freeing herself. She was no longer walking in Lillian Lamont’s footsteps. From now on, she would walk in her own.

  “You,” Maggie whispered softly, “are the true keepsake.”

  Tiffany returned to Devin’s side and sat beside him. She was exhausted by the sustained speech and by the emotions of the day. But laying her head on his shoulder, she knew that it didn’t matter. As long as there were the two of them, somehow, somewhere together, it didn’t matter.

  Suddenly there was a commotion behind her and a scattering of the seats Becky had helped her gather together in the brewery.

  A curse followed by Jessica crying out, “About time!”

  Tiffany jolted up, clipping Devin’s nose with the top of her head. She ignored him as he cried out and rushed to help. Jessica’s water had broken and the first of her friends was finally having a baby.

  Chapter 10

  Devin stood on the yurt’s deck and surveyed “their” domain. So much had changed from April to August.

  For one, his wedding reception would be held in just a few hours at the two grand Victorian houses of Eagle Cove. They would be coming full circle, celebrating the first weekend of the Second Annual Puffin Days. Jessica’s August festival had come around on the calendar once more. And before it truly began, there would a grand town party the likes of which Lillian and later Pearl Lamont had been known for before the Depression had struck. When it did, most of Pearl’s fortune had gone into sustaining the town.

  Everyone had agreed it was totally appropriate as to make the reception so big because it was also the launch party for the book, The Life and Loves of Lill
ian Lamont: an Oregon Pioneer’s Journal (unabridged). The last point had included some hot debate, but Tiffany had been adamant that it was either her whole story or none of the story.

  The next debate had been about the addendum co-written by Maggie and Jessica. Tiffany had won most of that one, too. Her own role in the entire history from Lillian’s death to the present had been reduced to one small box on the “Genealogy of Lillian Lamont” page—with her name next to Devin’s own (and today’s ceremony would make that true). Jessica and Natalya were direct descendants of Pearl and, because Becky had married the other Slater brother, they were able to include her as well.

  The farm was mentioned nowhere.

  The book had been published on the town’s behalf and the pre-orders were already several times bigger than the number of people who had ever lived in Eagle Cove—since its founding. Devin liked to think that was his doing, by suggesting that they include Lillian’s first-time encounter with Ernest as a teaser in the marketing.

  For the big party, the Lamont B&B (which had descended through the direct line from Pearl) would be open. And the Judge had also opened his own neighboring house (that had been Lillian’s before First Mate Albert Slater had purchased it after delivering the news of her death).

  But the wedding itself was to be a small affair.

  Devin had wanted it to be smaller by two people, just the original group that had sat in the brewery that night after the fly-in, but his fiancée had insisted. When he’d extended the final two invitations, he had told his parents that they were not allowed to sleep with anyone except each other for as long as they were both in Eagle Cove. They had eyed each other warily, but reserved only one room and with only one bed, so he had some hope.

  The location was the second big change.

  They were getting married on Tiffany’s farm. It had started small, with a dinner invitation to Maggie and Hector. And once that had happened, Jessica, Natalya, and Becky had initiated an intense round of lobbying for a knitting session to be held at the yurt. And one fine June day, after three days spent in a mad flurry of preparation by the owner, her friends had come and had a wonderful time.

  Now, the front deck of the yurt had been converted to an altar with the addition of a few rows of chairs. Both Judge Slaters were officiating, the retired judge as well as his son, Becky’s husband Harry, who now served in his father’s former seat. It was a dual wedding, but Tiffany and the Dragon had decided to make it a simultaneous ceremony and he and Hector were allowed no say in the matter.

  Natasha, Becky, and Jessica—carrying her newborn Pearl, who looked just like her mother—had decided to stand for the women.

  At something of a mutual loss, Hector and Devin had finally chosen Gina and Peggy to stand in the best-person roles to ensure that neither of them blew it. In a last moment of inspiration, Devin had bribed Tall Guy to stand in as a third for the low price of just three dog biscuits.

  Gina and Peggy had maintained the new Eagle Cove tradition and dressed in black for the ceremony. Gina looked as exotic and vivacious as ever, but Peggy was a complete surprise. She might still walk like she was out to conquer the Earth singlehandedly, but freed of her battered jeans and flannel work shirt, she was causing her husband the Judge some severe attention deficit problems.

  “You did a fine job on that lightkeeper’s cottage,” Hector told him as they waited for the women to get ready and the ceremony to begin. He could hear the whole lot of them giggling together through the thin yurt walls, though Tiffany’s laugh was so distinct that he could pick it out every time.

  “Thanks. I took most of the look from your boat.”

  “It’s a wonderful showpiece, Devin,” Gina hugged him then brushed at the lapels of his tuxedo to make sure everything was still in order. “I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough.”

  “I think,” he nodded toward the latest burst of giggles, “I’m the one who owes you.”

  Gina kissed him soundly and Devin supposed that meant they were even.

  Trying to avoid blushing, he turned to Hector. “I guess you’ll be dropping a permanent anchor in Eagle Cove now.”

  “Thought I might,” Hector nodded, “but my Maggie has other ideas. Said something about retiring and sailing up the Inside Passage, for a start.”

  “The Dragon is retiring?” He, Gina, Peggy, and both of the judges practically shouted in unison. Tall Guy kept his thoughts to himself.

  “Seems she has an idea about training up a new teacher this winter to take over.”

  “Who?” Again the chorus.

  “Well, don’t want to spill the beans, but it’s seven letters, fifth one is an A…” he stretched out the clue. “And you’re about to marry her.”

  “Huh,” was all Devin could manage. Tiffany would be spectacularly good with kids, all kinds. “That’s actually a great idea.”

  Hector nodded, then raised a finger to his lips, “Don’t tell. She hasn’t approached Tiffany yet.”

  “Dream on, Hector.”

  “Okay, don’t tell that you heard it from me.”

  “And who besides you has your wife-to-be told this idea to?”

  “Caught.” His easy shrug earned him sympathetic laughs from around the circle.

  There was a sudden squeal of delight from inside the yurt. It sounded terribly un-Tiffany-like, yet he’d never mistake her voice. Perhaps the invitation had just been delivered. The noise level through the walls tripled as it seemed everyone inside was talking at once.

  “You know,” Peggy appeared to be watching the sky as she spoke. “Speaking of retiring, I’m getting busier than I like with flying and so on. Not getting much time to work on that new airframe I’m restoring.”

  Devin had learned that nothing would change the path of one of Peggy’s thoughts, so he just stayed to the side and waited for when she was good and ready to send the train into the station.

  “I was gonna start looking for someone to buy Eagle Cove Contracting…if you happen to know anyone who might be interested. Seasonal work sometimes, but it keeps a soul out of trouble.”

  Devin rocked back on his heels. That had been one problem he and Tiffany hadn’t fully resolved. Her farm wasn’t big enough to need two hands very often; actually, with two of them, it rarely took even an hour a day. And though she’d offered, there wasn’t a chance he was going to let her give it up and follow him back to Chicago.

  He had let go of DR Builders, but that was always the plan. Originally his father had promised to pay Devin ten million as a “nest egg” when he came aboard at CMC. But if he wasn’t joining the family business…he’d haggled his dad up to fifteen, still a bargain. His dad, always shrewd, had taken the deal.

  “How much you looking to get for ECC? Just in case I hear of anyone who might be interested?” He asked Peggy, joining her in watching the sky.

  A pair of eagles were soaring far above. Not too near each other, but still together. He’d have to remember to tell Tiffany that it looked like Jake had a girlfriend.

  “Well,” Peggy now knew the kind of money Devin had and he hoped that she didn’t try to gouge him. He wouldn’t like it if his or Tiffany’s money changed how Eagle Cove treated them.

  “We’d have to make a deal,” Peggy drawled out and he hoped she was teasing him. Then she looked straight at him and he stopped watching Jake. “First off, you’d have to keep helping me with the hay and the blueberries. The fields and all of the equipment belongs to Becky, but she leases the fields to me because she doesn’t care about the hay and lets me borrow the equipment in the deal as long as I keep it all running. I own the grader, but that’s long since paid for. Keep my runway level and I’ll throw the grader in.”

  “Seems fair,” Devin nodded, trying not to smile. It wasn’t the deal you made with an out-of-town sharpie; it was the kind of deal you made with a friend.

  “Got all the money I need between the Judge and me, but I could use a hand now and then restoring the new airplane.” Which was most o
f eighty years old.

  “Well,” Devin loved living in this town, “now that might cost you.”

  Peggy was grinning back at him. This time she waited. He was getting the hang of the slower conversations on the Oregon Coast.

  “Flying lessons.”

  “Deal.” Peggy held out her hand and they shook on it.

  Gina was chatting with Hector and the two judges. Tall Guy was lying down on the job.

  And then gentle music came out of a small boom box.

  The crowd quieted.

  It was the traditional Bridal Chorus, but played by a solo harp. He’d recognize Tiffany’s touch on the strings anywhere.

  “Hold it together,” Gina whispered to both him and Hector as she positioned them to either side of the altar.

  Peggy offered Devin an encouraging slap on the back that was almost hard enough to drive nails—without a hammer.

  Jessica, Becky (just starting to bulge at the waist), and Natalya (who hadn’t started trying yet, but was “well about to”) walked out the door and up the short aisle. They were uniformly dressed in little black dresses, like a study in dangerous beauty. Each smiled at him in their own way as they approached. Jessica with the warm hope of a new mother, Becky with a cheery grin, and Natalya still in protective mama bear mode. Once to the front, they sat in the very front row of chairs because Tiffany’s deck, their deck, wasn’t big enough for a large bridal party to be standing.

  Then all other thoughts went away.

  Tiffany and Maggie Winslow stepped out of the door with Vivian Lamont between them to escort them both down the aisle. Tiffany’s mother had also adopted the alluring black dress, but the two brides were dazzling in white. There wasn’t a thing schoolmarmish about Maggie Winslow dressed to the hilt.

  Devin glanced at his fellow groom, who offered him a happy wink of “But aren’t we the lucky ones.”

  Devin winked back, “No question!”

  But if Maggie looked great, Tiffany was dazzling in white satin. Her mother had whisked her away on the jet to some small boutique in Seattle. She’d come back with a wedding dress in an opaque hanging bag labeled “Perrin’s Glorious Garb” and a very pleased smile.