All Good Intentions

by Trudi Johnson

“It was. I designed the restoration of the front.”

  “It’s quite impressive. I know the house belongs to your mother. We’ve met. I must say she’s a delightful lady. Her own beautiful home on Exeter is quite impressive. She has good taste. I’m very interested in turning the Sinclair house into an inn. My question is: why aren’t you interested? I would have thought that a talented renovating architect like you would jump at the chance. And I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re about to be married. Surely you and your fiancée would find it more than suitable.”

  Joe, who was now standing, looked down at his desk and recalled Quentin’s standard advice to keep personal details to a minimum. “It’s not my type of place, Kevin, nor Sandi’s.”

  “I see. Just wondering,” Kevin answered and, knowing he would not get any more, got up to leave. “I’ll see you on Friday.” He left, confident that the more he got to know Joe Steffensen, the more likely he would have a source of information on Charles Sinclair and the answers he had come here to get.

  * * * * *

  That night, in Joe’s downtown condominium, Sandi poured two glasses of wine and passed one to Joe, who was sitting at his computer.

  “Should I add Hannah and Carrie to the list of wedding invitations?”

  “I’d like to.”

  “But?”

  “I’m not sure they’d want to come, and no doubt Mother feels the same.”

  “I assume everyone in Falcon Cove knows the truth, so your mother may as well accept it and move on.”

  “Yes, that’s Mother’s strength, Sandi, accepting things and moving on.” Joe laughed, moved away from the computer chair, sat next to her on the sofa, and pulled her into his arms. “Speaking of getting the story out, I talked to Lauren this afternoon. She apparently told Brittany Kavanagh the whole story about Hannah and Charles, who in turn told her mother. Now that Caroline Kavanagh knows, their whole social circle does, and for that matter, the universe does. If anyone cares.”

  “I think it’s time that bunch realized that we’re approaching the next millennium.”

  Joe reached forward and grabbed a file folder on his coffee table. “Caroline Kavanagh is just rounding the Edwardian era. By the way, here’s the property I was telling you about that Kevin Gillis owns in Planter’s Bight. Look at the view of the ocean.”

  “Gorgeous, although rather bleak in winter. He’ll need a windbreak. Shrubs, perhaps, across here.” She pointed to the front of the property.

  “Why, Dr. Martel! Switching your area of expertise to landscape design? I could start another business for you on the side.” He grinned at her with his question.

  She stretched out on the green sofa and sipped her wine. “No, I think I’ll stick with political philosophy. By the way, what brings the man from Halifax to Planter’s Bight? Did he tell you?”

  “Nope. All I know is that he wants the house for himself. He plans to live in it, I assume, when he retires. I’d put him close to sixty.”

  Sandi turned around and rested her head on Joe’s chest. “Interesting. Do you suppose he has family there or maybe lived there once?”

  “Not that he’s mentioned. I’ve learned not to inquire into clients’ personal lives. Too many messy divorce and custody battle stories to listen to. I can live without that information.”

  Sandi looked up and kissed his cheek. She thought how much he sounded like his Grandfather Steffensen and how much she sounded like her mother. “Mr. Gillis might have good reasons for keeping his personal life to himself.”

  Joe swept back her long, dark curls and kissed the back of her neck. “Right now, my love, I don’t want to talk about anyone’s personal life. I have other plans in mind.”

  * * * * *

  Lauren and Alan’s house in the city’s west end was a blend of warm contemporary and traditional design. A Joe Steffensen original, the architecture beautifully brought together indoors and outdoors with maximum energy efficiency. Bright accents in fuchsia, chartreuse, and tangerine eased the formality of the wheat-coloured palette of the walls and matching limestone fireplaces. Palladian windows were strategically positioned and sized to allow for as much natural light as possible, a feature that Lauren insisted on.

  Hannah, Carrie, and Jeanne arrived for dinner shortly after 7:00 p.m., on Thursday. In the foyer, Hannah stopped to admire the eye-catching arrangement of hyacinths, tulips, irises, and hydrangeas on the circular glass table. She slipped off her coat and handed it to Alan. “What a lovely place you have, Alan. I’ve never seen anything like this. So bright and cheery.”

  “Thank you. Come in and make yourself comfortable, Hannah. We’re happy to finally have you here.”

  Lauren greeted her with a warm hug. Her words, “I feel like you’ve been missing from my life,” took Hannah by surprise, but diminished some of her apprehension.

  The conversation around the dinner table was lighthearted as they enjoyed a meal of apricot-glazed Cornish hen and steamed vegetables. It was not until the subject of houses came up that the tenor of talk changed.

  “Jeanne, Lauren mentioned that you have someone interested in the Sinclair house,” Carrie commented. “That’s wonderful. A good opportunity to get rid of it.”

  Hannah looked up from her meal. “Carrie” was all she said, hoping she’d send the appropriate message without too many words. Her message was lost.

  “I’m sorry, but I thought Jeanne’s intention was to sell it. Having someone come forward before it’s even on the market is a bonus, don’t you think?”

  “I haven’t decided whether I will sell it yet, Carrie.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Mother, has Mr. Gillis said what he would do with it?” Lauren asked.

  “He mentioned something about an inn,” Jeanne responded, but chose to limit the information with Carrie present. She was in no mood for her pronouncements.

  “That sounds like a good idea. What about the house he wants to build, Joe? You said you’re designing a place for him in Planter’s Bight?” Lauren asked.

  “That’s the plan. I’m going there with him tomorrow morning,” Joe explained.

  “He sounds like an ambitious man,” Carrie remarked. “Jeanne, if your son trusts this man’s intentions, perhaps you should as well.” Her tone was far more instructional than Jeanne wanted to hear. “How about both of you, Sandi and Joe? Have you found a house?”

  “We’re looking,” Sandi explained and glanced at Joe. “We have our eye on a place on Waterford Bridge Road. It’s quite nice, but it’s not on the market yet.”

  Jeanne stopped eating. “Waterford Bridge Road? Where exactly?” She looked directly at Joe.

  “Next door to the Gilchrists, near Dad and Jaclyn.”

  Jeanne stared at him, clearly bothered by the news. She turned to Sandi. “How do you feel about living so close to your father-in-law? I would think it would be every bride’s nightmare.”

  “I’m fine with it,” she said dismissively. “I love the area.”

  Carrie interjected. “My goodness, I think they’d be wonderful neighbours, Jeanne. Much better than a bunch of strangers.”

  Jeanne forced herself to take deep breaths. She reached for her glass of wine, sipped it slowly, and stared at a spot on the table in front of her. She wondered how much longer this evening would last.

  * * * * *

  Later, after dinner had ended, Hannah sat at a large glass-topped tulip table in front of the kitchen window and watched as Lauren rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. “Are you sure I can’t help?” she asked.

  Lauren smiled. “No, no, you just sit there and relax. You’re a guest, a very welcome one.”

  Hannah looked out the window at Waterford Valley and the Southside Hills. “Do your father and his wife live close to you here?”

 
“Yes, you can see the back of Dad and Jaclyn’s house from our bedroom windows upstairs. It’s nice to have them close, but I assured Sandi that they’re not ones to take advantage of it.”

  “When did he marry again?”

  “Twelve years ago, to Jaclyn Peters. We get along quite well.”

  “Still, it couldn’t have been easy for you when your parents broke up.”

  Lauren folded the dishcloths and sat at the table next to Hannah. “It wasn’t, but I had a crowd of Steffensens around me for support. They’re in Halifax, and I was going to law school there at the time. Joe, Quentin, and I rented a house near the university. My Uncle Peter and Aunt Katie live in Halifax, and their sons, Brett and Chris. Dad also has a younger sister, Jeanette, who works at Dalhousie. Then, of course, there’s Grandma and Granddad Steffensen. I can’t imagine life without them. Their house is right across from Uncle Peter and Aunt Katie near Kearney Lake.”

  Carrie entered the kitchen with the last of the dishes. “Lauren, that was a wonderful meal. Thank you so much. What did you say the dessert is called?”

  “Banoffee tart. The recipe came from my great-grandmother. I believe it’s English,” Lauren responded, taking the dishes from Carrie. “I’m so glad it all worked out and that we got to meet each other finally. Why don’t you both join the others outside? It looks like a nice evening. I’ll be right behind you. I just have to turn on the dishwasher.”

  Alone in her kitchen, Lauren placed the remaining salad in a container, stored it in the refrigerator, and wiped the green granite counters.

  “You okay?” came a voice from the doorway.

  She looked up to see her brother. “Fine, why?”

  “You don’t look it. You seem preoccupied.”

  Lauren moved closer and shook her head. “Things were tense at dinner, don’t you think? Thank heavens Sandi changed the subject to Falcon Cove and we got off the subject of houses.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think Mother would be pleased that we’re looking at a house up here.”

  “No. We’ll all be close to Dad. That’s what is bothering her.” She turned on the dishwasher and then approached her brother. “Hannah is so sweet, Joe, but I confess, it takes a little getting used to, looking at a veritable stranger and realizing she’s my grandmother. I can’t help but think about Grandfather Sinclair. I’d like to ask her about him, perhaps find out what he was like when he was a young man, but I get a sense that Hannah doesn’t want to talk about him or Virginia.”

  “Lauren, she saw him very differently than you and me. To be honest, I’m avoiding the topic with her. You know how I feel about Charles.”

  “Clearly. You can’t even manage to call him Grandfather. Still, I can’t help but wonder what he was like in his younger years.”

  “I try not to think about him.”

  Lauren sighed. “By the way, she mentioned to me that she’s going to the cemetery to see his grave. She asked me to come along, with Mother, and I said I would. I take it you’re not interested.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell her you’re working tomorrow.”

  “Lauren, there’s no need to lie. Tell her I don’t want to come. I’m not apologizing for the way I feel about Charles Sinclair.”

  “That’s obvious, Joe. No need to preach.” She smiled at her brother. “C’mon, let’s go outside.”

  * * * * *

  In the back garden, Joe saw his mother viewing the flower bed by the stone wall on the left. “Lovely evening,” he said as he approached her.

  Jeanne glanced up. “Yes. I think it must be consistently warmer in this part of the city. Lauren’s roses are doing much better than mine.”

  Out of earshot of the others, Joe leaned closer to his mother. “Listen, we’d like to invite Hannah and Carrie to our wedding,” Joe said.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Would it matter if I did?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  Joe sighed heavily. “I mentioned it to Hannah on the phone last month, but she seemed reluctant. Carrie did as well when I spoke with her. Do you know any reason why?”

  Jeanne surveyed the garden as her mind searched for the best response. “If you’re asking whether I had anything to do with discouraging them from being involved in your wedding, I did not. I don’t know if you believe me, but again I’m telling you, I did not.” She walked away from her son, occupying herself instead with the condition of the flower beds.

  “I assume you’re angry because we’re looking at buying a house up here.”

  “You assume incorrectly. What would my opinion matter?”

  “Then what’s bothering you?”

  She had been walking away when he questioned her. She turned back and faced him squarely. “Bothered? No, my dear, I’m not bothered,” she said in a loud whisper, with her back turned away from the others. “I am fascinated, fascinated that someone we barely know can come into our lives and pass judgment at the dinner table about what we should all be doing. She tells me to sell my father’s house when she’s never met the man. She has absolutely no idea how I feel about him or the house. Nor does she care to find out.” Her face reddened in anger. “Yet, you and Lauren sit back and allow her to say whatever she wants. The very moment I question one of your decisions, like where you’re going to live, I’m intruding in your life.”

  Joe ran his hand through his hair. “I agree that Carrie has no right to tell you what to do, Mother, but it was only an observation, and she’s new to all of us. I didn’t want to offend her. She’s a guest.”

  “Ah, so when you’re used to having her in your life, you’ll be sure to tell her how you feel, will you?” she asked angrily. “Well now, I’ll look forward to that.”

  Joe sighed heavily and looked away in exasperation.

  “No response, Joe? Is it because for once you realize that I’m right?” Jeanne put a firm grip on his right arm. “As for your question about them attending the wedding, have you stopped to think that maybe Hannah would be as uncomfortable about being at your wedding as I would be if she were there? Perhaps even more so? We don’t live in a Little House on the Prairie world, Joe. We can’t just sit around, share our feelings, and make it all better with a group hug. Life’s a lot more complicated than that.”

  “I understand that,” he said quietly. “This isn’t easy for all of us.”

  There was prolonged silence.

  Joe rubbed his neck. “Speaking as an architect, let me tell you that Kevin’s idea is a good one. That’s my opinion. The house would make a fine inn, with some work, of course.”

  She nodded.

  “By the way, you’ve apparently made quite an impression on Kevin Gillis. He mentioned he’s had lunch and dinner with you.”

  “He’s interested in buying the house, Joe. I’m sure he’d say whatever is necessary to accomplish that goal.”

  “I think it goes beyond that. The word he used to describe you was delightful.”

  She dismissed the comment with a shrug.

  “Are you seriously considering selling the house?”

  “I think so, yes.” She turned her face into the gentle breeze for relief. “What are my options? As you say, Kevin seems to know what he’s doing.” She walked away slowly and stooped to deadhead some petunias. “It’s too bad that you’re not interested.”

  “Why?”

  “I was going to offer it to you as a wedding gift.”

  Joe stood and stared at her, unable to understand her reason for making such a gesture and unable, for the moment, to come up with a suitable response.

  * * * * *

  Hannah walked around the spacious garden. At the back, near the wall that separated
Lauren and Alan’s property from the easement behind it, she stopped to admire the bright orange and yellow begonias, surrounded by mulch that ran the full length of the wall. Protected from the wind, they glowed in the evening sunshine. She sat on the nearby bench and put her face up to the setting sun. She could hear Carrie, Alan, and Sandi on the deck talking about the seniors’ home near Falcon Cove. Joe and Jeanne were farther away.

  “Enjoying the quiet evening?” Lauren asked, as she approached.

  Hannah opened her eyes. “Yes. To be honest, I think I could spend the summer in this spot. Lauren, you managed to create a very private place here in the middle of the city. I can hear little birds chirping and the wind in the trees.”

  “It was my dad’s suggestion to build the house on an oversized lot, and then my Uncle Peter recommended the trees and the stone wall for privacy. It worked out well.”

  “It’s almost like being home in Falcon Cove.” She patted Lauren on the knee. “You and Alan will have to visit sometime.”

  “Thanks, we will.” Lauren tucked her blonde curls behind her ears as she faced Hannah. “This has been quite a year for you,” she began. “I imagine it hasn’t been easy.”

  “Your grandfather knew when he left me some money in the will what would happen. I guess he and the Good Lord thought I could handle it,” Hannah responded.

  “Was it a surprise?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely. Charles sent me a little money over the years that I tucked away. But I never expected he’d leave me more in his will. If he hadn’t, I suppose none of this would have come out.” She twisted her hands together on her lap and searched for words. “Lauren, I don’t want to disrupt everyone’s life.”

  “You’re not disrupting,” Lauren said, emphatically. “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  But Lauren did know. “It will take a while for Mother to adjust, if that’s who you are thinking about,” she said, trying to reassure her.

  “Her world’s been turned upside down,” she said quietly. She wanted to add, and I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve to be here. But having only just met her granddaughter, she let it go.