My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series)

by Cynthia Lee Cartier

  Sara’s job and apartment hunting were interrupted when she got a call from New Mexico. Her father had died, and she left the island for an undetermined amount of time. We packed up her studio apartment and loaded the boxes and her bike in the dray to be taken to the lodge and stored in the attic.

  We did not say goodbye. Race and I just drove away, and the truth weighed heavy on me that there was no guarantee she would be coming back. Sara Strauss had been one of my favorite things about St. Gabriel Island.

  When we pulled up to the lodge with Sara’s things, Joshua, the painter I had hired was waiting for me. Joshua is a Gabey but, as Lila Meaks would say, most of his crew was timers, and after that winter, they had decided it was time to leave the island. He only had one man left, and the two of them would never be able to finish the job by Memorial Day. We were in a pickle.

  In April and May St. Gabriel Island is still waiting for the tourist boom, but there is no lack of activity. Awnings and signs are brought out of storage and replaced, buildings, streets, and sidewalks are power washed, windows are cleaned, flower beds and pots are trimmed and planted, and anything that needs it gets a new coat of paint. Ladders, paint buckets, and brushes are on every street, and finding an unemployed painter locally would be like winning the lottery.

  I became Joshua’s third crew member. He didn’t ask for my resume, but I had the experience. After twelve hours of painting every day though, I was walking around like a centenarian. I wasn’t forty-eight anymore, but I wanted it done, and I wanted it done right.

  When it comes to remodeling, painting is the icing on the cake for me. But, I had gotten to the point that I was ready to hire monkeys to help finish the job and then we got a call from Madison. Grace and Grant, our very first guests in Rhubarb Cottage, wanted to come back for another stay.

  “Grace, isn’t Grant a painter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would he be interested in some work and a free place to stay on the island for both of you while he does it?”

  “Hold on.”

  I heard muffled voices and then Grace said, “Yes, he’d be interested. When?”

  “Yesterday,” I said.

  Grace, Grant, and two of his painting buddies showed up the following week. Grace and Grant stayed in Rhubarb Cottage and we set Tim and Ed up in rooms in the lodge, then they all got to work.

  As soon as Race was fully recovered, he assessed the damage in the dining room. I had picked up the shredded paper and cleaned and scrubbed the floor but, like the sleigh, it was still a sorry sight.

  “I’m sorry, Race,” I said as we stood in the middle of the room.

  “That’s okay.” He studied my face and traced the scar on my forehead with his thumb and kissed it. “It was the first room I finished. I wasn’t that pleased with it anyway.”

  We sealed off the room to keep the dust in, and Race re-sanded and put a new finish on the floor, and it did look better than his first job—perfect in fact.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sleigh Ride

  Over time we have learned some of the history that has caused the animosity between the Gabies and those that live on the Hill, but when Race and I first moved to the island, it just seemed foolish.

  Race and I received an invitation to the Spring Ball the View Point Hotel hosts each year to kick off the upcoming tourist season. When the invitation became public knowledge among our renovation crew that was back on the job, the scrutiny began.

  “You’re not actually thinking about going are you?” asked Kurt.

  While shaking his head in disgust and making his sucking noises louder than usual, Joel said, “I don’t know why you would want to rub elbows with all those muckety-mucks.”

  Matthew was in school and Ralph stayed out of it. He was as quiet as always, anyway. But as far as Joel, Kurt, and Lisle were concerned, we were one of them, although we hadn’t yet gotten the official notice from Lila Meaks.

  We were succumbing to the pressure and had almost decided we would send our regrets. Then Race came back from town after having lunch with Larry one day and said, “I saw James Alexander downtown today. He was celebrating his divorce being final.”

  I smiled. Finally. “I wonder how that got settled.”

  “Apparently, his wife wanted to remarry.”

  “Sounds like you two had quite a conversation.”

  “We did. He’s a nice guy.”

  “I told you. I know these things.”

  “He asked if we were going to the Spring Ball.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That we hadn’t decided yet. He told me he’d like us to go. I think we should.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay.”

  That decision caused our renovation crew, our friends, to walk around the property giving us the silent treatment. It was like being in high school. The halls were packed, but the cool kids wouldn’t talk to us.

  Ralph tried to make amends for the rest of our little tribe and said, “Don’t worry about it. They’ll come around.”

  After the bulk of the painting had been tackled, the Wisconsin painters went home. Joshua, his one crew member and I were finishing up. Ralph was hanging all of the light fixtures he and Matthew had cleaned and rewired over the winter. Joel’s crew was installing the tubs, sinks, faucets, and toilets. Lisle and Kurt were hanging doors and putting up trim.

  I was in an upstairs bedroom painting and feeling a little bit ostracized when I saw a horse taxi pull up to the front gate. My first thought was, Race’s parents. My second was, Sara Strauss!

  I dropped my paint brush in a can of water and ran down the stairs, out the front door and down the hill. It wasn’t Sara. It was Marni Scott-Robles. The taxi driver took her luggage from the back of the carriage while Marni hugged me, and it was a desperate embrace.

  “Cammy, I didn’t know what to do or where to go, and you were the first person I thought of. I hope you don’t mind that I just showed up. I thought about calling, but I didn’t know what to say.”

  “No, Marni, it’s fine that you’re here. But, honey, why are you here? What’s wrong?”

  “Robert left me.”

  My heart sank. Marni had been married to Robert since she was in college, and he had been by her side while she had battled breast cancer. Loretta had praised him for being so attentive and strong through it all.

  I took Marni and her luggage to Rhubarb Cottage, which I hadn’t cleaned since Grace and Grant had left. I sat with her on the sofa, and she poured out her heart. “We never got back to normal after the surgery. He left because he couldn’t look at me.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but I know that’s why. Once I was through with my treatments, he changed. I knew something wasn’t right. He used to look at me. He stopped looking at me, touching me, even talking to me.”

  “Does Loretta know you’re here?”

  “No, no one does. I was on the plane before I really thought about what I was doing. I thought you’d be able to tell me how to make him come back. But before the plane landed, I realized I don’t want to be with someone who can’t stand the sight of me.”

  “Marni, don’t say that. You’re so beautiful. I don’t want you thinking those thoughts.”

  “He left me, Cammy. He left.” She collapsed into my lap and sobbed. “Cammy, how did you bear it?”

  “I didn’t, honey. It’s not bearable. I just tried to get through each day until it wasn’t so painful anymore.”

  I lay in bed that night, trying to think of ways I could help Marni get through the days to come. And all of my insecurities and the pain from what Race had done came rushing back. Memories can be so sweet and so bitter.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Race asked. I thought he was asleep.

  “What would you do if I had to have my breasts removed?”

  “Do you mean would I leave you?”

  “Yes, or if you stayed, would you
still want me?”

  “Come here.” Race took me into his arms. “I wouldn’t leave. I promise you, I won’t ever leave again, Cam, not for anything.” He set his hand underneath my chin and looked at me intently. “And I’m in love with you, Cammy Coleman, not your breasts or your hair. When we make love, I’m loving you.”

  Marni stayed indoors for the next two days. She didn’t want to eat with Race and me, so I took her meals to Rhubarb Cottage. I wished Sara Strauss was there. She has this distracting spirit that’s guaranteed to get your mind off your troubles. I missed Sara.

  And then I had an idea, of course, the horses.

  I took Marni out to the barn to meet Tasha and Collard Greens, and Collard Greens was actually quite amiable. Race showed Marni how to hitch up the buggy and he and George taught her to drive it. When she had mastered that, they moved on to the surrey and then to the dray.

  Marni woke up every morning and hopped out of bed so that she could feed the horses and do any hitching that needed to be done, and like Race’s dad, she jumped on any opportunity to run errands. It was a good thing Raceter Coleman wasn’t visiting or we might have had a fight on our hands.

  “You can take the buggy out just for fun, you know,” Race told Marni one morning at breakfast.

  That’s all she needed to hear. “Do you need the buggy this morning?” she asked.

  Race and I smiled at each other. “Nope,” we answered in unison.

  Marni jumped up from the table and picked up her dishes.

  “Leave those, I’ll get them,” I told her.

  And off she went.

  “Those horses are getting quite a workout,” Race said and chuckled.

  “Maybe we should get a couple more. We’ll need to, eventually, when the lodge is up and running.”

  “I’ll talk to George,” Race offered.

  “Race, would you mind if Marni goes with us to the View Point Ball?”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s invitation only. Do you think we can get her in?”

  “Why don’t you call James and ask him?”

  “Okay, I will.”

  A moment of déjà vu flashed before me when I called James and asked him if Race and I could bring a friend. He said, “No problem.” And he told me that he would take care of adding another guest to our name.

  When I asked Marni to go, she initially said she’d rather not, but I tempted her, “You could get dressed up and drive a surrey. What could be better than that?”

  Driving a sleigh—that’s what could be better than that. Two days before the ball, it snowed. The daffodils and tulips were already coming up and some of the fruit trees had set blossoms. But Old Man Winter was back and he didn’t care that we would lose some flowers and fruit. It was a beautiful spring snow, though, gently falling to the ground, peaceful.

  The crew was slowly getting over their disappointment that we would be socializing with the enemy, but the day of the ball, they all left early. I didn’t let it damper my excitement of getting dressed up and dancing. Marni and I had gone shopping on the mainland for new dresses, which didn’t look quite the way we had imagined they would after we had accessorized them with snow boots.

  George had spent the day before teaching Marni everything she needed to know about driving a sleigh, so she insisted Race and I ride in the backseat. We did, huddled under a blanket, and Marni was our chauffer.

  When we got to the hotel, Race escorted Marni and me as we clomped up the stairs in our heavy coats and boots. Once inside we changed into the heels we were carrying. The ballroom was filled with people that must have been beamed in. I didn’t recognize a soul until we saw James.

  “James, do you remember Marni?” I asked him.

  “Yes, how are you? It’s really good to see you.”

  Marni fingered her hair. “I’m fine. How are you?”

  It was fun to be in that fancy place with fancy food and fancy music. Not something I wanted every day but a nice change of pace. An orchestra played everything from waltzes to swings, and we learned rich people can really cut-a-rug.

  James’ sister Diana was there with her husband Joe. I didn’t know how she would react to me when I saw her again. She was gracious and kind, even when she was introduced to Race.

  James and Celia introduced us to their guests and we realized our project on the other side of the island had piqued the interest of a few people. “You’re the couple reopening The Lake Lodge. We’ve been watching your progress. It’s coming along.”

  And when we met Celia Alexander’s oldest son Stephen, we got an earful about what an “outlandish” price the owners had wanted for the lodge. “Anyone would be foolish to pay a fraction for that dump.”

  Race excused us when Stephen was in mid-sentence, and guided me to the dance floor.

  “Did you hear what he said he offered for the lodge when he tried to buy it?” I asked Race.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s more than twice what I paid for it. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

  “Maybe someone needed the money or they were restructuring the trust, something like that.”

  “But I bought it two years later. Property values hadn’t gone down during that time, they’d gone up.”

  “I don’t know. It was meant to be, I guess.”

  “I guess,” I repeated, but I wasn’t buying it.

  James took Marni out to the dance floor several times and gave her the same attention he had the night when I first met him. Marni relaxed and stopped fiddling with her hair—just the way she stopped tapping the scarf that was tied on her bald head that night at the restaurant. James Alexander is a good man.

  Marni drove us home in the sleigh and it wasn’t even back in the barn for eight hours when she had it out again. When Race wanted to take me out for a moonlit ride, he had to get on the schedule. He was attempting to pull me out of my gray mood from having taken Cat and the girls in for their procedures that day.

  Hard to believe, but George told us that Cat had never had kittens before. Motherhood had made her a kinder, gentler feline and I was glad she had the experience, albeit later in life. So, when Race said, “We need to think about having Cat and the kittens spayed.” I was sad to say the least. I loved having new life around and I loved watching Cat with her girls. I knew spaying was the right thing to do but that didn’t make doing it any easier.

  If anything can get your mind off your woes, it’s a sleigh ride, a moonlit sleigh ride. It was beautiful, and the rate of speed at which we traveled was just right. We were above Grayson’s Meadow, where the pass turns down toward the creek, when we saw another sleigh coming out of Tunnel Rock. As it rounded the corner, the driver cut down a side trail before we passed each other.

  I reached over and grabbed Race’s arm. “Who did that look like to you?” I asked him.

  “Who did you think it looked like?” asked Race, answering my question with a question, which I really don’t like.

  “George and Celia Alexander,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” agreed Race.

  “What would they be doing out together?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “Do you think they’re dating?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Well, that might explain room number ten in the lodge.”

  “Cammy.”

  “Well, it might. Why don’t you ask him about it?” I suggested.

  “No, I’m not going to do that. George is a private person. Whatever he was doing is his business.”

  “You’re not curious?”

  “I didn’t say that. But I’m not going to pry. And, Cammy, I don’t want you asking George about it either. Promise me you won’t.”

  “I promise.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Our First Guests

  Memorial Day weekend was my target date for opening the lodge, and it looked as though I had finally set a deadline that we would actually meet. It had to h
appen eventually.

  Our crew was over our View Point Ball peccadillo, and they were all working hard to get the lodge ready for our first guests. Race posted pictures of the lodge and an ad on the St. Gabriel Community Website.

  St. Gabriel Island’s historic Adirondack-style Lake Lodge is now open for business. Fully renovated. Beautiful, quiet setting, less than a five-mile ride or walk to St. Gabriel’s charming downtown area. Complimentary breakfast buffet daily.

  Within hours we were receiving calls, and within days we had the first two weeks completely booked. More calls came in and the summer was filling up.

  Putting the finishing touches on the lodge was like playtime. We were making regular trips to the mainland and bringing back boxes of food to stock the lodge pantry, crates of toilet paper, and little shampoos, lotions, and soaps for the bathrooms. The orders of bath and bed linens and the willow furniture were delivered. And the white Adirondack chairs and footstools arrived, which came in boxes and would need to be assembled.

  And something else arrived, something I had splurged on that I didn’t tell Race about, a commercial ice cream maker. It arrived while Marni and I had gone to the mainland for a day of shopping. When we got back, I found Race in the lodge kitchen. He had the machine unpacked, had read the directions and had just finished his first batch.

  I tried to explain why I had spent the money on something so unnecessary, but Race interrupted me, “Don’t ever again let me hear you say the words unnecessary and ice cream in the same sentence, Cammy Coleman.” Then he scooped the cold and creamy vanilla goodness into a huge glass bowl and grabbed two spoons.

  Marni came to tell us that she and George were off to the island stables to pick up the two new horses. Race and I were sitting at the table with the bowl of ice cream between us.

  “Grab a spoon, Ms. Scott,” I said.

  “George is waiting for me.”

  “Well, there’s plenty more where this comes from. Would you pick up some cream at the dairy on your way back from the stables?” asked Race.

  And they did bring back cream and horses, two more ladies, both dark brown, good looking horses—but Tasha was still Queen. I told Marni she could name them.