“It would be better if they were, then I could just fix everything and be done with it.”
“Oh, cara, you’re the best designer I know. But people aren’t like art; you can think you fixed them a hundred times but they never stay fixed. Let them be your family and love them warts and all. It’s their job to live their lives. Yours to live yours.”
“For a young guy you sometimes sound really wise.”
“Pffft. I’m Italian. I was raised by a bunch of know-it-all, in-your-face, wise men and women who came from wise men and women. It’s kind of a family trait. I’m stuck with it.”
He went off to help Chloe, even if she didn’t need his help, and Issy walked outside. It had been sunny and cloudy in alternating parts all day, brightening the parlor, then casting it in shadow. At first Paolo had tried to compensate for the changes, then decided it would just add more ambience to the interview.
Somewhere along the line, they had all forgotten the original point of the videoing. They were still cataloging, but the experience had taken on a life of its own. Listening to Leo talk about the artists who had shared not only the rooms but their talents, dreams, and stories while at the Muses was fascinating. Something worth keeping no matter what happened.
Finding herself alone, Issy walked to the cove, stopped at the bench, and looked out to sea. It was warm and humid but there was a definite heaviness in the air that said a storm was on its way.
They probably should have spent the day at the beach. It might be the last day they had for a while, especially if the storm continued to progress along the coast.
And suddenly she had a wild desire to swim in the cove where Wesley Whitaker and Leonore Eberhart fell in love and began it all. And where Isabelle Whitaker York might be the one who lost it.
She ran down to the beach and along the sand to where the waves had dug out a cup shape of rock. And there she pulled off her sandals and clothes and threw them onto a bush. Then she waded in until the water was thigh-high, dove in, and swam until she had to come up for breath.
There was no Wes waiting for her, so she turned over on her back and basked in the reappearing sun.
It had been a long time since Issy had swum naked in the sound. Been a long time since she’d swum anywhere. Not even a hotel pool. She didn’t remember swimming naked since leaving the Muses for college. She made a dolphin roll, something she had perfected in a younger life, then breaststroked her way toward open water.
She wouldn’t go far; the water was surprisingly deep in the middle of the cove, currents carving away at the rocky coastline for eons on one side while leaving a sandy beach on the other. The best of both worlds.
Leave it to Mother Nature to get it right. And if Issy had her way, she’d continue to do so. The Whitakers had never tried to encroach on their natural surroundings. There was once talk of building an auditorium for dance, music, and theater performances, but the idea had been nixed. This was a painter’s paradise, secluded and serene.
And that’s the way it would stay. She would call her contact tomorrow and arrange for him to authenticate one of the paintings and make an appraisal for an anonymous owner. If it was a forgery, she’d say the owner had found it in his attic.
That should cover all her bases. She wouldn’t have to show it to Paolo; that way she’d keep him out of any possible scandal. And she certainly wouldn’t tell Leo or Fae. Fae was still scarred from her relationship with Adam Ellis and his untimely death. And she didn’t trust Jillian enough to make her privy to the secret.
She was in this alone. And it was about time she did something about it. She pushed her feet down in the water until she was treading water.
And saw Ben’s head appear over the crest of the knoll and was surprised by the thrill that shot through her. When he was in full view, she waved. “Come on it. The water’s great.”
He didn’t answer. He seemed to be staring at the opposite side of the cove.
Issy twisted around just in time to see a figure slip into the woods next to the meadow. Not Fae or Steph; this was a man. He was tall and dressed in white or ecru.
She held her hand up to shield her eyes but he was gone. Like a wisp of smoke.
“Did you see who it was?” she called to Ben.
“No, but I think you should get out now. I’ll take a look in the woods later.”
“Probably just a hiker, they sometimes wander onto the property. Wes never minded.”
“Still, would you get out?”
Issy had already been making her way back to shore. And was in a dilemma. Having Ben join her in the cove was one thing that she could readily imagine turning into more. But Ben standing on the land watching her unceremoniously climb out of the water, butt naked, and hobble across the stony outcropping to the bushes would be more like Flamingo on Velvet than Pelagio’s Venus Rising from the Sea.
“Would you turn your back?”
He grinned. Shook his head.
“Then you come in.”
“No can do. I left Paolo manning the grill so you better hurry.”
“You’ll pay for this.”
“Looking forward to it.”
He crossed his arms. She walked out of the water with head held high, and teeth clenched so as not to show the pain her feet were feeling as she crossed the pebbles to her clothes.
Ben didn’t say anything when she reached him where he waited on the knoll. But he had a big grin on his face, and several times as they walked to the house, she heard him snorting back a laugh.
By the time they reached the house, she was laughing, too. He threw his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. Friends. More than friends. Almost lovers.
They met Chloe and Steph coming out the kitchen door; both were carrying huge bowls of food. Chloe looked from one to the other. “I won’t ask what has you two in the giggles.”
“Wise girl,” Ben said. “Chloe, have you seen any strangers around here lately?”
“No. Why?”
“I saw somebody across the cove.”
Stephanie bobbled the salad bowl.
Ben snatched it from her. “Easy there. It was just somebody hiking through the woods. Still, it would be a good idea if you kids didn’t go wandering out there alone. That goes for you big kids, too.”
Ben narrowed his eyes at Steph. “Have you seen anyone out there?”
“Nooo.” She pulled the bowl away from him and continued on her way.
“That was odd,” Ben said.
“She’s a teenager . . . almost,” Issy said.
“That must explain it.”
They ate in the pavilion out on the east lawn, which someone had thought to have screened in since Issy had moved away. As soon as they were done, Ben excused himself to go check his instruments now that the barometric pressure was doing whatever it was doing.
Chloe began to gather up food and dirty plates. “I’d better get this mess cleaned up and go, too. I have to work in the morning.”
“You go ahead,” Issy told her. “You cooked, we’ll clean. And take Paolo with you. He’s a dream in the gallery, a nightmare in the kitchen.” It wasn’t true, Paolo was a good cook, too, but she wanted him to have fun and a reason to stay near the Muses.
As soon as they were gone, Vivienne declared that the children needed baths.
She’d tried to coerce Steph into coming, too, but Steph refused, and after a couple of threats and glaring looks, during which Steph held her ground, Vivienne took the other two into the house.
“Afraid she’ll have to do the dishes,” Fae said under her breath.
“At least she’s beginning to show some interest in her children’s welfare,” Issy said just as quietly.
“Good for you, Stephanie,” Jillian said at full volume. “Your mother is a mess and a bully. I can only say she learned it from the best.”
This won a fleeting smile from Steph.
“It’s how some people act when they feel guilt, anger, remorse, and the need to blame anyone but
themselves. I should know.” Jillian leaned over and patted Steph’s knee. “It will pass and she’ll be your mother again.”
“I’ll just keep the sage handy until then,” Fae said, and patted her pocket.
It was true, Issy admitted. Vivienne cast bad energy wherever she went. Everyone had tried acting like everything was fine, but they each had sighed with relief when she left the pavilion.
The sun set; the fireflies came out while they sat finishing the last of the wine.
“Lord,” said Jillian. “Do you realize that there are four generations of Whitaker women sitting around this table?”
“Wow,” Steph said.
Issy echoed her wow. She hadn’t expected to see this anytime—ever.
“And the moon is full.” Fae stood. “Jillian, go get your daughter and her children. The rest of you stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 28
Jillian cast a curious look around at the others, then followed Fae into the house.
“What’s happening?” Steph asked, curious and a little apprehensive. “What about the full moon?”
“More sage burning,” Issy speculated. “Grammy?”
Leo smiled, a mixture of mystery, memory, and regret. “Oh, Issy, don’t you remember?”
Issy shook her head. But she did.
Jillian returned accompanied by Mandy and Griff, wearing clean pajamas and sneakers. “Vivienne doesn’t feel up to it. I told her to come later if she changes her mind.”
“What is it?” Mandy asked. “Are we having a sleep-out?”
“No,” Leo said.
“Are we having ice cream?” Griff asked.
“Something even better.”
“What, Grammy? What?”
“Wait and see.” She stood and went to meet Fae, who was carrying a heavy tapestry bag.
“We’re going to town?”
“No. But I have these.” Fae brought out sparklers that must have been left over from a Fourth of July years before.
She lit them. They sputtered then caught and she handed them around.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re going to the cove for the Last Great Whitaker Full Moon Family Dance and we’re doing it in style.”
Fae led the way as always when there was an adventure to be had. The others followed, Jillian supporting Leo by the elbow. It was a side of her mother Issy had never seen and it spoke volumes about the woman she was and not the woman Issy thought her to be. Mandy and Griff went next, though they wanted to run ahead. Until Fae told them if they broke ranks they’d be sent home and miss the fun. Issy and Steph walked together, not touching but close, the last two generations of a great family whose patronage had helped some of the best of American painters.
It might all be gone soon. This might really be their last Full Moon Dance, a tradition at least a hundred years old whose origins might be in folklore but probably more likely in a gin or vodka bottle. But like Fae said, they would go out in style.
Leo slowed as they passed the bench and the two graves she visited every day. Slowed even more as they helped her down the incline to the sandy beach, where they all shed their shoes and Fae pulled a boom box out of her bag.
Fae turned on the music, took Leo by the hand, while the others stood by. Issy sensed she was watching something she was not likely to see again and she wanted to etch every detail in her mind and heart. Jillian took Leo’s other hand. And Issy stepped forward to take Jillian’s. Stephanie, who had to be an old soul, had taken both her siblings’ hands and was holding them back until Issy and Fae reached for them and they all three ran to join the circle.
The music was an eclectic mix of classical, reggae, folk, and popular tunes from the sixties, all collected by Fae over the years. It always started with something tame, with them holding hands in a circle. And the circle started to move and they danced and danced, and laughed and split apart and came together again. They went wild with dancing and laughing until Issy suddenly felt someone watching them and turned around.
Vivienne stood at the edge of the trees and in a moment of sisterly affection Issy ran to her and pulled her to the beach, where Mandy and Griff immediately took her hands and turned her in a circle.
And all the Whitakers danced while the moon rose and the night grew dark. And hope burst into little starlets in the sky.
The clouds rolled in and, with the clouds, reality. It beckoned to them as they packed up and walked up the beach to the lawn, wrapped around them as they crossed the lawn to the house. And just as they reached the door, the clouds passed over the moon and the first drop of rain fell.
“It’s starting,” Fae said.
“Did we make it rain, Mommy?”
“No, Griffin. We were just dancing.”
Issy sighed. For an hour Vivienne had actually seemed to shed her bitterness, but now it was back, Issy could hear it in her voice. The resigned, defeated, and perhaps just a little rueful woman who was her sister.
There was nothing Issy could do about her. She could try to save the house and the paintings. She should have gone back to secure them today instead of going to the beach. It was too late now. She knew the woods but didn’t relish being there alone in the dark and rain. She would go first thing tomorrow.
But in the morning she had no time to get away. Ominous black clouds crowded the sky and the waves cut across each other and turned the water gray. The beginning of the wave surge.
As long as it didn’t strengthen beyond a category-one or -two hurricane, they should be safe from flooding. But she wondered about Ben.
Chloe called to say camp was being canceled until after the storm.
“Ben’s moved some things to my place.”
“He was ordered to evacuate?”
“No, he’s just being a big brother. I told him I’d be fine, and that I was coming to weather the storm with you.”
“And Paolo, don’t forget him.”
“I didn’t. But Ben said if you guys are staying he’ll come over later and help Paolo with the shutters and heavier stuff.”
Issy smiled. “Uh-huh. We’d love to have you, both of you. The more the merrier. And I’m sure Paolo would be glad of the company.”
They canceled the rest of the inventory to prepare for the storm. Fae brought out the emergency radio and put in new batteries. She kept Mandy and Griff busy collecting blankets and carrying them to the central stair hall, where they would sleep as a last resort if the storm became stronger.
“We should go inland,” Vivienne said, clinging to her children.
“Nonsense,” Leo said. “We’ve weathered two hundred years of storms and this isn’t even one of the big ones. Mandy, come help Grammy decide which snacks we want to have. I think I saw some marshmallows. We can make s’mores.”
Mandy abandoned ship and went with Leo. Griff released his hold on Vivienne’s pant leg and followed them.
“No need to frighten the children,” Fae said.
Issy knew she meant it sympathetically, but of course Vivienne bristled. “You would be worried, too, if you’d ever had children.”
Issy wanted to smack her.
Fae just smiled and wandered off into another room.
Issy sent Steph to fill the bathtub in Mrs. Norcroft’s bathroom.
“Why? How long are we going to being stuck inside?”
“Hopefully not more than a day, maybe two, but the power may go off, and the town water supply might shut down. We want to be able to flush, right?”
Steph made a face. “I’m on it.”
Paolo spent the morning bringing wood into the mud room. The last two loads he carried straight into the library, where they always sat out the storm. The library had a fireplace, north-facing windows for the most part, and direct access to the central hall, which had no windows at all.
“This should do it,” he said, passing them with his armload of wood. “It looks like night out there.”
Issy moved her computer and the specs for the
Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit. From nowhere—though probably her subconscious—the room was suddenly peopled with mannequins in period dress, standing and sitting among the artwork. Not the nineteenth-century denizens of Montmartre and Pigalle of Lautrec, but their American counterparts, who peopled the history of the Muses. It would make a good opening event if the Muses ever became a museum. They could use real actors in costumes for the opening, maybe even as docents.
“Stop it.” She found a safe place for her laptop, plugged it in, and pulled up a weather link. Watched the hurricane moving up the Jersey coast. It was moving east. Was there a chance it would miss them?
“Steph, are you back?”
Steph stuck her head in the library.
“Go turn on the television and see what the weathermen are saying.”
Each time Fae was near a window—and she made sure she was near one often—she’d look out on the knoll and then to her cottage. She just wanted to go home. Be in her cottage. Resume her life. But she couldn’t leave Issy with this brood. And she couldn’t leave Leo.
Already twice this morning she had tried to get out to be with Wes. Fae had stopped her both times. But Leo was stubborn and she wanted to see Wes before the storm hit.
Leo lived between two worlds but she wasn’t stupid and she hadn’t lost her marbles, at least not when she was “here” with the rest of them. But Fae knew how much the past was calling her, how loud Wes’s voice could be even from the grave. A gothic thought maybe, but true.
Didn’t she hear it every day?
Soon, soon she would have to make a choice. Maybe as soon as the end of the storm. And she was so afraid that she knew what it would be. She tried not to be bitter; after all, it was her choice. And she’d made it long ago.
She started when she saw the figure running across the lawn. She was wearing an old rain slicker, the hood pulled low, and carrying a roll of painter’s plastic and a big flashlight.
Not Leo, but Issy.
So Issy knew. Fae had suspected it for the last few days. There was no use going after her. She watched as Issy took the path through the woods, watched until the rain became too intense to see more than the moving shadows of the trees. A chance for the Muses to survive.
The Beach at Painter's Cove Page 31