The three of them then walked to the Tea & Scones, chatting about Manhattan—Ruth visited there four times a year to see her sister and nieces—restaurants in both New York City and Cape May, and mortgage rates. They turned a corner and Ruth said, “The Tea & Scones is up ahead on the left. Three houses down.”
Joanna gasped when she saw it. It was like the younger, smaller sister of the Queen Victoria or the Manor Rose. Charming, elegant, and, in Joanna’s eyes, perfect.
Opening her loose leaf binder, Ruth began reading from various sheets of paper: “One of Cape May’s best kept secrets, the Tea & Scones boasts a stunning entryway and front door with stained and beveled glass.”
Joanna’s eyes took in every detail of the house. That sense was so attentive she suddenly realized another wasn’t working at all: she hadn’t heard a word of Ruth’s narration. Words didn’t matter at this point. The house, from the outside anyway, was everything Joanna had ever envisioned owning, despite the chipped and faded pale pink paint, the revolting green trim, a few broken windows, and splintered shutters hanging on for life by rusty nails. On the front path, Joanna looked up: the house had three floors with three porches that decreased in size as they went up. It gave the impression of a tiered wedding cake, with the smallest porch at the top for the bride and groom. Joanna walked up the pathway, flanked by overgrown rose bushes. Seven—lucky number!—steps, some missing a brick here and there, led up to the wraparound porch, which was missing some posts, too, here and there. The stained glass of the front door formed an abstract work of art that instantly brought a smile to Joanna’s face. She felt welcomed. She felt she’d come home.
The porch needed stripping and refinishing, but the wood seemed good. When she stepped onto it, and walked the full length of it, she knew she was hooked. Michael saw her eyes shining with tears, and knew she loved the house. Her face was an open book.
Ruth said, “This isn’t in as good shape as the other two. It needs work, but nothing horribly expensive,” and continued reading over her papers. “Let’s see. There’s an apartment on the third floor that needs some dry wall and kitchen updates. It has a tiny sundeck with ocean views.”
“Oh, an ocean view. Just what I’ve always wanted! Even Brian would like that. Fantastic!”
Michael said to Joanna, “Come and see this,” and pulled Joanna off to the side, away from Ruth, who was having difficulty unlocking the door. About to whisper to her, he was momentary stalled by being so close to her. “Joanna,” he said, the three syllables tickling her ear.
She backed away. “I-I can hear you,” she said, suddenly interested in looking at the small overgrown side garden.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be a killjoy but I wanted to say that while I’m really enjoying your enthusiasm, you might want to dampen it a bit when dealing with” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder “her.”
“Of course. You’re right. I’m an idiot.”
“No. You’re not schooled in the art of deception. If you manage to lie a little, and like the house despite all of its many, many deep flaws, you might be able to bargain a bit and get it for less.”
She smiled. “Thanks for the tip.” She walked back to Ruth, with her shoulders squared and her resolve intact. “What’s the average electricity bill?” she said, in a clipped, business-like voice.
Michael had to turn away to hide the grin on his face. He took a minute to subdue himself and, with his own blank face now set, he walked through the front door, which Ruth was holding open for Joanna.
Ruth said, “The owners are willing to negotiate and sell the house furnished, if you’re interested.”
Walking around in the house, Joanna had to suck in her cheek to stop from beaming and “Wow”-ing at everything she saw. Despite the fact that the house, in true Victorian fashion, seemed to have twice as much furniture as it actually needed—her sister Cynthia’s antiques shop could benefit from the excess—the house was roomy and welcoming, with the sun streaming in. Something in Joanna clicked, reacting to the house in a way she had only dreamed of. When Ruth led the way into another room, Joanna caught Michael’s eye and mutely screamed with enthusiasm. Something in Michael clicked, too.
They toured the entire house, with Joanna reciting her “Oh, this is okay, but I don’t like that” commentary, all the while jumping up and down inside and making faces aside to Michael. It was easy for Joanna to see past the broken windows, worn rugs, cracked walls, and chipped paint. Unlike the subdued nightmarish feel of the Teal Dream, this house filled Joanna with happiness. The very walls—despite some hideous wallpaper—felt infused with love and comfort and peace. When they left the house an hour later, Joanna again muted her enthusiasm and said to Ruth, “It’s nice. Do we have time to see another one?”
“Yes. It’s just a half block away, this way.”
As they strolled, Michael said, “It’s a buyer’s market isn’t it, if so many houses are for sale?”
Ruth said, “Yes and no. We are in a downturn but Cape May is always desirable. These are more than just houses—these are history. It’s not just about earning a living running a glorified hotel, it’s about stewardship. Maybe that’s why I wanted to show you the Widow’s Shawl. Someone caring needs to buy it and restore it to its grandeur. I wish I had the money.”
The last house was larger and more expensive than Joanna would have been comfortable taking on. They did a perfunctory look-through and left. After they saw everything, Joanna said, “Thank you. I’ve got a lot to think over.”
“I think you should have a good idea now of what you can get in Cape May in your price range.”
“Yes, thank you. If my husband wants to see any of these houses, could you show us tomorrow, or at a later time?”
Ruth shook Joanna’s hand. “Of course, I’d be happy to. You can’t be expected to make a huge decision like this in a day or two. You have my card. Call anytime. And if you’d like, I can email you when anything suitable comes on the market.”
Joanna and Michael watched as Ruth drove away, around the corner. Joanna turned to Michael and was so excited, she almost hugged him, but squealed instead, “You were right. I love that house! It’s perfect. Even the name: the Tea & Scones. Perfect!”
They started walking, mostly because Joanna couldn’t be still.
He said, “The house had a remarkably friendly, light feel to it, as if it were filled with happy memories.”
“You felt it, too?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve walked into a few of these houses and felt…I don’t want to be dramatic, but I swear I’ve felt evil. Like that teal one. You can’t paint over that, you know?”
She stopped, and looked at him a moment, unable to comment. “I’ve lost track of where we are. I’m incredulous. It’s a dream come true, Michael. It really is. I’ve been searching and hoping, and I’ve found it. The house. Cape May. This is it.” Tears came. “I need to sit down. I’m dizzy.”
He led her up a path to the steps of a house. “Sit, Joanna. Do you want me to get you some water?”
She checked her watch and laughed. “It’s 3:30? I think I’m just starving.”
“Me, too,” said Michael.
“After that huge breakfast I thought I’d never want to eat again.”
“You just found the house of your dreams, so I think you should get to choose where we have lunch, too.”
She smiled at him. “I’m thinking big ass clams, but two days in a row would be asking for a stroke. There were other, less lethal items on the menu, weren’t there?”
“You want to go to Henry’s again?”
“That lemonade took me right back to my grandma’s house. Also, if I order a salad, I can try one of those desserts that looked so good.”
They started walking towards Henry’s, and Joanna’s heart fluttered. What if Brian didn’t like the house, or changed his mind about moving? She knew he was moving just for her. Or what if someone else was willing to pay more for the Tea & Scones? As she and Michael walked t
o Henry’s she said, “Do you mind if I call Brian?”
“Of course not. Do you want privacy?”
She shook her head as she speed dialed Brian. As soon as he picked up, she said, “I found it!”
“What?”
“Our new home!”
“Oh. Okay.”
She stopped walking. “That’s it?”
“Jo, I’m in the middle of something.”
“You could at least pretend to be excited.” She turned her back to Michael, embarrassed. He noticed and walked away, suddenly determined to study a lavish iron fence.
“Maybe it’s all getting too real: moving,” Brian paused. “I think I assumed you’d be onto the next thing by now.”
“What?”
“I’m happy for you. Honest. We can talk when I’m there.”
“Okay. See you later. Bye.” She waited a few moments before walking over to Michael.
He said, “You okay?”
“I guess I can’t expect him to be as happy as I am. He’s not really thrilled about moving.”
They didn’t talk again until seated at a table, looking at the menu. Joanna said, “I’m taking up so much of your time. Aren’t you supposed to be writing?”
“I am, in my head. Hanging out with you has given me ideas for my book. It’s been good for me.”
“For you? You may have saved us tens of thousands of dollars just by telling me to keep my mouth shut.”
“I hope I said it a little nicer than that.”
“You did.”
“The house is a beauty. Special.”
“Yes! And I didn’t see any foundation problems.” She took a small notebook out of her purse and began jotting. “No floor flexes or recesses. No moisture discoloration. There was a crack in two of the walls on the second floor I’ll want someone to look at, and the apartment upstairs needs some new walls entirely, but I don’t think the house was leaning, or structurally unsound. The mantelpiece on the large fireplace was missing some tiles. I’m sure they’re replaceable although I’ll probably have to have them made to order.”
“I didn’t notice most of those things.” Michael smiled and shook his head at her. “You know your stuff.”
“I’ve seen so many houses, dragged Brian or my sister Cynthia, or another friend for support. I’ve had to learn a lot. At work during lunch I read and read and read. I can’t think about spending this much money without educating myself about everything. I still have so much to learn, but I can tell that this house won’t cost me hundreds of thousands to renovate.”
Again they were seated outside. Again the breezes brought smells of summer. Joanna already felt at home here, after barely two days. She gazed out. “Hard to believe New York has the same sky.”
“Maybe you can’t see it because of the tall buildings.”
“Maybe. What about you? Do you live in one of those tall buildings?”
He shook his head. “Second floor of a ten story building. In a tiny one-bedroom apartment on Seventy-Third just off Amsterdam.”
“We’re practically neighbors.”
“I could kick myself now. I had the opportunity to move about four years ago. Same building but a bigger apartment with a nicer view. But I didn’t.”
“Why?” Joanna said.
“Oh, inertia mostly. Packing? No thanks. But if I wanted to move now, I’d have to wait until someone in the building dies.”
“Are you on a waiting list or anything?”
“Yes, but I’m in no rush, to tell you the truth. It’s just me there, with two million books.”
“Sounds like our apartment.”
They sipped their lemonade.
Michael said, “I was surprised you wanted to come back here. I mean, I love it, too, but not everybody does.”
“Brian’s best friend Frank is a chef and now Brian’s into upscale restaurants, so this is different and a lot of fun for me. Tomorrow we’ll probably be eating at some expensive restaurant, which I’m sure I’ll enjoy, but give me a basket of fried anything, with french fries and onion rings on the side, every once in a while, and I’m happy.”
They ate quietly and comfortably, with their notebooks open in front of them. While Joanna wrote down thoughts and questions about the houses she had just seen (pretending that she might be interested in any one other than the Tea & Scones), Michael worked on a scene between the Newark detective and the bodyguards assigned to protect the visiting politician, who didn’t appreciate police interference.
“Michael, on the second floor of the Tea & Scones,” Joanna asked, her eyes closed, her right hand holding a pen poised over the notebook and her left working its way through the schematic of the house in her head, “when we exited the smallest bedroom was there a window to the right before you get to the staircase?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She opened her eyes and laughed. “I guess you’re not as obsessed with the house as I am, huh?” He shook his head. “And I’m interrupting your writing again. I’m an anti-muse.”
“I don’t mind.”
They both returned to writing, until the check came. When it did, Joanna insisted on paying. “To thank you officially,” she said.
They left the restaurant and Michael said, “Want to see more of Cape May?”
“Yes but can we stop at the inn first? For a sweater? It’s a little breezy. And I want to call my lawyer and ask about putting a binder on the Tea & Scones. If Brian likes it. Oh God he has to like it.”
“It’s a great house and reasonably priced.”
When they approached the Manor Rose, Joanna said, “Do you know the owner?”
“Claire. Yes.”
“No, this one’s name is Marie. There’s also a Rachel, no, Rebecca.”
He shook his head. “Neither rings a bell. Maybe they’re new? I wonder if they’re Claire’s relatives. She has a couple of nieces I think. Do you know their last names?”
“I can’t remember. I’m sure it’s somewhere in my head, but inaccessible right now. Apparently half my brain is closed for vacation.”
He laughed. “Do you think you’ll recover for work next week?”
“I’d better.”
They walked up the few steps to the front door, and Joanna whispered: “Marie’s nice, but I wish she were a little less interactive. Maybe it’s the New Yorker in me. Sometimes I like to be left alone with my thoughts.”
The hallway was peaceful, with some classical music lightly drifting in from the kitchen. Michael sat down in one of the burgundy wingback chairs and said, “Think how great an innkeeper you’ll be, armed with all this insider information. Number one: give guests some peace and quiet.” He grabbed a magazine and settled in.
“When you come and stay with me and Brian, contrary to this trip I promise to leave you alone to write. And we’ll give you ten percent off.”
“That’s all?”
Entering the pantry, she said, “And a complimentary cup of coffee or tea, right now.”
“Now you’re talking. Coffee. Black with one sugar.”
Joanna prepared her tea and his coffee. It felt surprisingly comfortable preparing drinks for herself and Michael on the ground floor of this magnificent house. When Brian came, she’d do the same for him, and feel the real mistress of the house. Carrying the cups out to the parlor, Joanna spotted Michael gazing out the window. He looked pensive.
She didn’t mean to pry, but said, “You okay?”
He took the cup of coffee. “Oh, I know sometimes I’m miles away. I didn’t mean to be aloof.”
“Not aloof. It’s just, you seem sad sometimes.”
“I thought I hid it well. Being in Cape May brings up memories of my failed marriage.”
“Oh,” she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“God no,” he said, with a laugh. “I don’t like to fail, or talk about my failing.”
She smiled at him. “I understand. You’re a man. If you were a woman I’d already know every detail.
Would’ve in the first hour on the bus.”
“I’m actually a good talker, for a guy. Haven’t you noticed? I think it’s because I’m a writer. I have to explore things, and stir up memories and feelings. But now I’m having a good time, and I don’t want to actively depress myself.”
She put her tea on a table. “I’ll go get my sweater.” She trotted upstairs. When she entered her room the cell phone rang. “Brian, where are you?”
“Still in Manhattan. I’ll be able to leave in a few hours.”
“I hope you have an easy drive.”
“I doubt it. I’ll hit traffic somewhere. You still with what’s-his-name?”
“Yes, we just had some lunch. I think you’ll like him. Oh, he got us in a tour of a private estate tomorrow. They limit attendance because they don’t want thousands of people traipsing through each year. And then you have to see the Tea & Scones.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s perfect. I love it.”
“Okay. I’ll see it this weekend. Probably tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to pressure you but I don’t want this house to get away.”
“Jeez, Jo, I get it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just thrilled with the house. I’ll stop now.”
“Good.”
“You sound tired. Wait until you get here. You’ll love it. I feel great. Relaxed. Like I’ve been on vacation a week.”
“Sounds good. I better get off now. The sooner I finish the sooner I’ll be there. See you later, Joanna. I miss you.”
“You, too.”
Joanna put her phone away, grabbed her sweater, and walked downstairs, to find Michael sleeping soundly exactly where she left him, with a magazine open on his lap. He looked so comfortable, she didn’t have the heart to wake him. The leather photo album she’d spotted that morning popped into her mind. She quietly walked over to it then carried it gently to a comfortable chair across from Michael’s and began looking through the pictures, as she sipped her tea.
Cape May Page 10