But Izzy caught her arm and led her around the side.
“Maybe we can see his bedroom,” she whispered. “Or his closet. Or his—”
“How old are you?”
“Right now I feel about fourteen.”
Alix took a step back. “I really don’t think we should—” Suddenly, she halted, her eyes wide.
“What is it?” Izzy gasped. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing a ghost. I read that Nantucket is one of the most haunted places in the world.”
“It’s a light,” Alix whispered.
“He left a light on?” Izzy stepped back to look up and she saw what looked to be a desk lamp, the kind that would reach across a drafting table. “You’re right. Do you think he has a home studio? Now do you think we should go in?”
Alix was already at the window and trying to raise it. It slid up easily. “Andersen Thermopane, twelve over twelve,” she mumbled as she gave a jump and hoisted herself inside, leaving Izzy to get in by herself.
Once she was inside, Alix quickly glanced around. There was a dim light on in the kitchen so she could see a living room and dining area. All one room. It looked to be a nice place, but she wanted to see where that light was. She hurried up the stairs, opened the door on the right, and saw a room with windows on three sides. She knew the light would be beautiful during the day. There was an old rug on the hardwood floor and under the windows was an antique drafting table, probably from the Edwardian era. Beside it was a little cabinet, the top covered with drawing supplies. In a day of computer drafting systems, it was wonderful to see actual drawings with pencil, pen, and ink. She touched his mechanical pencils, all of them lined up by lead, from hard to soft. There was an erasing shield, brushes, and a T-square. There was no drafting machine anywhere.
To the right was a wall covered by his drawings. They were for the construction of small structures, not houses, and each one was exquisite in both concept and execution. There were two sheds, a guesthouse, a children’s play set. Three garage plans were next to sketches for garden structures. Nearly every bit of empty wall space had been covered with his drawings and draftings.
“They’re beautiful, wonderful. Magnificent,” she whispered.
She stepped back to the doorway to take it all in. The room felt like a shrine or a sanctuary. “I bet he never invites anyone in here,” she said aloud.
What surprised her was how much she and this man thought alike. She deeply believed that beauty could and should be found in the smallest object. Whether it was a soap dish or a mansion, to give it beauty was of utmost importance.
“Wow!” Izzy said from behind her. “It’s like …”
“Something on a ship?”
“Yeah, it’s very much like a movie set for a captain’s cabin.”
Alix was trying to take in every inch of the room. There were old things everywhere. A piece of antique china with “Kingsley” written on it. Taking up one corner was a carved wooden ship’s figurehead of a mermaid, weathered as though she had sailed through many oceans.
“Didn’t their family used to have whaling ships?” Izzy asked.
“Mostly the China trade.” Even as she said it, Alix had no idea how she knew that. “I didn’t read of any whalers in the family,” she added to cover herself. She walked around, touching things, memorizing them. If she had a home office it would look exactly like this. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Frankly, no,” Izzy said. “I want everything computerized. Deliver me from pen and ink. This place isn’t my style.” Outside, a car door slammed and they looked at each other in panic. “We better get out of here.”
Reluctantly, Alix started to follow her friend down the stairs but turned back for one last look. On the floor had fallen a freehand sketch of a little garden pavilion. It was octagonal with a roof like an upside-down tulip. Without thinking about what she was doing, she picked it up, stuck it in the waistband of her trousers, and hurried down the stairs.
Chapter Three
Alix leaned back in the chair and looked at the paper model she’d made of the chapel she’d designed. It hadn’t been easy to construct since all she’d had was card stock and tape. It was late afternoon and she was in the big room at the back of the old house, the one where she felt warmth and happiness. She knew without being told that when she was a child she’d spent a lot of time in this room. She remembered building little houses that had towers and turrets. At first she’d used old wooden blocks, and had piled up objects she found in drawers and on shelves. Then came Legos, her favorite childhood toy. There had been a great box full of them and in the bottom were little boats that she built sheds for.
While she’d played, there was music playing, soft and light, but no TV. Most important, there was a woman always nearby. Alix could almost see her smiling and approving. And sometimes there were other people. A young man who always looked worried. And a tall boy who smelled like the sea. There were smiling ladies who ate little cakes with yellow rosebuds on them. She could remember the taste of the petits fours and the itchiness of her new dress.
Over the big fireplace was a portrait of a lady. MISS ADELAIDE KINGSLEY, the label said. From her hair and clothes it looked to have been painted in the 1930s. She was pretty in a sedate, respectable-looking way, but there was a twinkle in her eye. The woman Alix was remembering more clearly by the hour was much older than in the portrait, but Alix well knew that sparkle in her eye. It seemed to say that she knew and saw things that others didn’t, but she wasn’t telling what. Except that she had shared her knowledge with Alix. She couldn’t remember exactly what Aunt Addy had told her, but Alix still felt the love that had been there—and the shared secrets.
Alix had wanted to spend the day with Izzy exploring the old house and walking around Nantucket. After all, her friend would leave soon. And Alix feared that once she was back on the mainland, Izzy would delve so deeply into planning her wedding that she and Alix wouldn’t have much contact. Toward the end of the summer, Alix would be Izzy’s maid of honor and Izzy would be married—and that would be the end of their girl friendship. Alix tried not to think how Izzy’s impending marriage would separate them.
It had been an excellent plan to spend the day together, but it didn’t happen. Alix awoke early with her mind fully on the possibility of showing her work to the Great Jared Montgomery. If he liked what he saw, maybe she could get an interview for a job at his firm. At the very least she’d show him what an eager-to-learn student she could be.
She lay in Aunt Addy’s bed in the early morning, her arms behind her head, looking up at the silk rose. Even if she didn’t get a job with him, to be his student—even if it was just for a few weeks—would be the highlight of her architectural studies. She could definitely put it on her résumé. And more important, she’d learn masses from him.
She wanted to design something to impress him. A house? How could she do that in just a couple of days? She was good at freehand sketching so maybe she could do some façades. But then she’d need to see the land. Everyone knew that Montgomery believed in buildings coming from the land, from the environment. He did not believe in mock Tudors in Dallas.
“What can I draw to impress him?” she whispered aloud.
As Alix lay there thinking and coming up with nothing, a small framed picture fell off the table against the far wall. Surprisingly, the disturbance in the still room didn’t startle her, but it did make her sit upright.
She got out of bed, her old T-shirt and threadbare sweatpants drafty in the cool morning. While she didn’t understand why, she knew the picture that had fallen was important. Picking it up, she saw a photo from the 1940s of two young women laughing. They wore pretty summer dresses and looked happy.
It had been a nice thought that the picture held some significance, but she couldn’t see what that was. She put the photo back on the table and headed for the bathroom, but then she stopped, turned back, and picked up the picture again. In the background, in the far distance, was a small
church. Maybe not even a church but a chapel, like those private family ones she’d seen when she and her father had visited England.
For a moment Alix envisioned Jared Montgomery’s home office and his designs for garden sculptures and gazebos, for arbors and a little garden shed.
“Small,” she whispered. “He’d like to see something small and exquisite.” She looked over at the big portrait of the Kingsley ancestor, Captain Caleb, and had an almost irresistible urge to say thank you.
Shaking her head at her nonsense, she went to the bathroom and tied back her hair. When she came out, she pulled her big red notebook from her new bag, and got back into bed.
Maybe it was the nearness of Izzy’s wedding, or maybe it was the search for something small that Montgomery had not designed, or perhaps the idea came from the fallen photo. Whatever the cause, Alix started sketching chapels. She rarely forgot a building, and she drew what she remembered.
Every August since her parents had split up, her mother went to Colorado, and Alix would stay with her father. If his work schedule allowed him to travel, they went where they could study the local architecture. They’d been to the southwestern U.S. to look at pueblos, to California for mission style, to Washington State to see Victorians. When Alix got older, they went to Spain to see Gaudi’s work, and of course they visited the Taj Mahal.
Alix used everything she could remember and sketched as fast as she could. When the pages filled, she tore them off and tossed them onto the bed.
When the bedroom door opened she looked up to see Izzy, fully dressed as though she meant to go out.
“Somehow, I knew you weren’t sleeping.” Izzy moved drawings to sit down on the bed and picked up some sketches. “A church?”
“A chapel. Small and private.”
Izzy looked at one drawing after another in silence, while Alix held her breath. As a fellow student of architecture, she greatly valued her friend’s opinion.
“These are gorgeous,” Izzy said. “Really beautiful.”
“I’m getting there,” Alix said. “But I keep trying to incorporate everything in one design. Bell towers, magnificent doors, half-round staircases. Everything! I need to decide what I can and cannot use.”
Izzy smiled. “You’ll figure it out. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going out shopping.”
Alix threw back the covers. “I’ll get dressed. It won’t take me but minutes.”
Izzy stood up. “Nope. You’re not allowed to go. This is your big chance and I want you to take it. Stay here and design something that will astound Montgomery. By the way, there’s food downstairs.”
“How did you find a grocery open this early?”
“For your information, it’s eleven A.M. and the whole beautiful town of Nantucket is just outside. I’ve been out and come back and now I’m ready to go do some serious clothes shopping. You cannot meet the Lord High Emperor Montgomery wearing that.” She gave Alix’s old sweats a disparaging look.
Alix knew her friend well. “You know, on second thought, I think I’ll go with you. I need some new sandals.”
Izzy stepped back to the door. “Oh, no you don’t. I’ll be back for dinner and I want to see what you’ve done.” She hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” Alix called out. She knew that Izzy wanted to go by herself. She loved shopping for clothes, and if Alix was in the mood, so did she. But not today. Besides, the two young women were similar enough in size that Izzy could buy whatever Alix needed and charge it all to Victoria.
At noon, Alix’s growling stomach finally made her get dressed and leave the bedroom in search of breakfast. Izzy had bought bagels and tuna salad, fruit, and bags of spinach. All healthy and filling.
Alix made herself a sandwich, but then she went back upstairs to get her drawings so she could look at them as she ate. To her horror she saw that she had only two blank sheets of paper left.
Surely, she thought, if her mother had stayed here more than once she would have paper somewhere, probably in the green bedroom. Feeling a bit like she was snooping, Alix went down the hall to the room Izzy was using.
Alix again wondered when her mother had stayed on Nantucket. And why would she keep her visits a secret? Alix remembered saying that she found out everything her mother did, but it looked like that wasn’t true. But then, to be fair, since Alix had left home to go to college she’d had her own life and had kept things, such as boyfriends, from her mother. It looked as though her mother kept secrets of her own. But why? Was there a man involved?
There were two big armoires in the bedroom, both old and beautiful. One had a few bags in it that Izzy must have purchased that morning, and the other was locked. Alix looked around for a moment to see if a key was nearby but didn’t see one. On impulse, she returned to her room for her handbag, retrieving the ring of keys her mother had sent. Alix hadn’t been told what the individual keys were for, but then Victoria never explained much. She’d always thought her daughter was intelligent enough to figure out everything on her own.
One of the smaller keys fit the lock. Alix opened the double doors to find an entire office inside. There was a printer and drawers full of paper and supplies. Shelves held what Alix recognized as old manuscripts. There were some photos taped on the back of the door. One of them was of Victoria with her arm around a small older woman who Alix knew was Adelaide Kingsley. The date on the photo was 1998, when Alix was twelve years old.
Alix couldn’t stop the wave of hurt that ran through her. It was becoming apparent that her mother had spent a lot of time here on Nantucket in this house. But she’d never told her daughter a thing about it. Of course she’d done it in August, Alix thought. That month had always been sacrosanct to Victoria. She claimed she went to Colorado to her cabin, where she said the solitude helped her to plot her latest book. But obviously, she’d not gone there every year.
Alix stared inside the cabinet. It made sense that her mother would go to Nantucket, as all her books were set in a seafaring community. But why had she kept it a secret?
Alix’s impulse was to call her mother and ask questions. But Victoria was on a twenty-city book publicity tour right now, and being the smiling, laughing author the world thought they knew. Alix wasn’t going to interrupt that. She could wait to find out, and knowing her mother, it would no doubt be an entertaining story.
Alix got the paper she needed, some office supplies, even found an old package of matte photo paper, and hauled everything downstairs to the big family room. She knew that one of the little tables opened and inside were TV trays. She got one out and set down her sandwich. She spread her drawings on the floor, sat on the couch to eat, and looked at them.
At first everything seemed to be a great hodgepodge of styles and designs. Too much! she thought. None of this would fit into the quiet elegance of Nantucket.
She finished her lunch, moved the table out of the way, and kept staring, but saw nothing to salvage. She was just starting to get frustrated when one of her papers rustled in the breeze. That all the windows and doors were closed didn’t register.
“Thanks,” she said before thinking, then shook her head. Thanks for what? To whom?
She picked up the paper that had moved. There in the corner was a tiny sketch she’d done so quickly that she hardly remembered it. It was a combination of Spanish mission and Nantucket Quaker. Plain to the point of severity, but at the same time it was beautiful in its simplicity.
“You think he’ll like this?” she said aloud, then started to correct herself, but who cared? She was alone, so she could talk out loud if she wanted to.
She put the drawing on the tray table and looked at it again. “This window needs to be changed. A bit taller. And the bell tower needs to be shorter. No! The roof should be taller.”
She grabbed more paper and redrew the design. Then she drew it three more times. When she had a sketch she liked, she picked up the architectural scale she’d brought
with her and started a scale drawing.
At three P.M. she made herself another sandwich, got a ginger ale out of the fridge, and went back to the family room. The floor was covered with papers and nearest to her were the new sketches.
“I like it,” she said, stepping around the drawings and looking down at them.
She finished her sandwich and drink, then picked up the photo paper, scissors, and tape dispenser. Making a model this way wouldn’t be easy but if it could be done, she’d somehow manage it.
When she heard the door open it was nearly six P.M. Izzy was home! For a moment it ran through Alix that her friend would leave soon and she’d be alone—not a happy prospect.
Alix ran to the door and was greeted by Izzy with what looked to be a dozen giant shopping bags embossed with store names. “I take it the shopping on Nantucket is good?” Alix asked.
“Heavenly, divine,” Izzy said. She dropped the bags and rubbed her fingers where the handles had made grooves in them.
Alix shut the door behind her. “Come on and I’ll make you a drink.”
“Not rum,” Izzy said as she followed Alix into the kitchen. “And there’s food in one of those bags. Scallops and salad and some dessert with raspberries and chocolate.”
“Sounds great,” Alix said. “Why don’t we take it all outside? I think it’s warm enough to eat out there.”
“You want to keep watch on his house, don’t you?”
Alix smiled. “No. I want to soften you up so you’ll be gentle in your critique of what I did today.”
“Is it still a church or have you made it into a cathedral? I can see flying buttresses of unfinished cedar. Will the windows be stained glass of some brawny sea captain?”
Alix started to defend herself and explain, but instead she went into the family room, got the model, brought it back, and set it on the kitchen table.
Izzy had retrieved the plastic containers from the bags and she’d put them down on the counter. For several moments she just stood there and stared at the little white model. It was so simple with its slanted roof and bell tower, but the proportions were perfect.
True Love Page 5