“You must be Mrs. West,” came a clear voice from behind her.
Hannah turned to see a woman approaching. “Yes, that’s right.” She made a quick up-and-down glance and wondered how the woman could have found shoes that perfectly matched the colour of her dress, a deep shade of lavender.
“I’m Caroline Kavanagh, Jeanne’s best friend.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kavanagh.” She extended her hand. “I met your lovely daughter, Brittany, earlier.”
“You’re Jeanne’s real mother,” Caroline said matter-of-factly.
Hannah smiled at the word real and answered slowly, “Yes, I . . . am.”
“It’s okay,” she reacted with the wave of a hand. “I know the whole story. Jeanne told me everything because we’re so close, like sisters.” She sat across from Hannah and glanced repeatedly at the water fountain, annoyed by its sound. “I’m surprised that you and your daughter were able to make it here from . . . ah . . .”
“Falcon Cove.”
“Yes, Falcon Cove.”
Hannah wanted to say that they didn’t have to meet a schooner like the Northern Ranger to get here, that it was a simple four-hour drive on a paved highway. But she chose to keep her thoughts to herself.
Caroline must have caught on to the perplexed response. “I mean, isn’t your daughter a minister? Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Yes, she’s the minister at Falcon Cove, but she’s on vacation right now. We have lay supply for the first two weeks in August.”
Caroline dismissed the explanation as irrelevant. “You worked in service for the Sinclairs,” stating a fact like she was delivering news.
“Yes, a long time ago.”
“Many young girls worked in service, didn’t they?” Caroline asked, emphasizing the words in service. “My mother told me about them, because they had girls working in service for them as well.”
“It was a common source of work,” Hannah replied softly.
“I understand that the families used to advertise in the local newspapers and through employment agencies here in the city. Is that how you got your job?”
Hannah shook her head. “No, my father came home from fishing down on the Labrador one spring, and someone had told him that there was a family in St. John’s who wanted a young girl to work for them. So we got in touch with the family through our church minister at the time.”
“I see.” Caroline looked away, then back to Hannah, scrutinizing her apparel. “Still . . . I understand that the families always looked for girls of good moral character to help bring up the children.”
The intent of her comment was obvious.
Hannah nervously squeezed the fabric on the side seam of her dress tightly. She surprised herself at her rebuttal. “Well, Mrs. Kavanagh, sometimes when people don’t have what it takes to raise their own children, they look elsewhere, even in places like Falcon Cove.” She stood slowly and steadied herself. “Now, then, perhaps we should go inside. After all, we have to mind our manners, don’t we?” And with that, she hurried her step back into the sunroom. She was relieved to find Catherine Steffensen waiting for her with dessert.
“Hannah, there you are! Sandi cut that lovely cake and brought us two pieces. Sit and we’ll have a chat.”
“Thank you, Catherine, this looks delicious,” she said, taking the dish that was holding a piece of vanilla cake covered in white chocolate and fresh strawberries. “I just went outside to see Jaclyn’s garden before it got too dark. What a beautiful piece of paradise!”
Jeanette, Catherine’s daughter, sat in the chair across from them. “Hannah, you and Carrie should come to Halifax sometime. If you like gardens, you’ll love Katie’s, my sister-in-law. She’s quite the gardener. She and my brother, Peter, own Steffensen nurseries.”
“That’s very kind of you to offer. Thank you.” She pushed the edge of the fork through the icing and savoured the sweetness. “I met a friend of Jeanne’s. Her name is Mrs. Kavanagh.” She looked up. “That was her,” she said as she pointed to Caroline, who had just brushed by them.
“Oh my.” Catherine turned to Hannah. “I hope she wasn’t nasty. She has a tendency to be outspoken.”
“No, it appears I prevented her from speaking her mind.”
Both Catherine and Jeanette exchanged glances and enjoyed a good chuckle. “Hannah, you’re probably the only person in the world who’s been able to do that. I commend you,” Catherine said with a nod and a smile.
In the living room, Lindsay chatted briefly with Joe’s uncle and aunt, then sought a caterer who was passing out iced tea. As she took the glass, a twenty-something beautiful brunette approached her. She wore a teal dress with a sweetheart neckline, and her smile lit up her pretty face.
“Excuse me, are you Mrs. Martel, Sandi’s Mom?”
“Yes I am.”
“Hi, I’m Kristy,” she said, extending her hand. “I work with Joe’s sister, Lauren.”
“Nice to meet you, Kristy.”
“I was just wondering, that guy over there by the piano, is he your son?”
Lindsay nodded. “Oh yes. That’s Jordy,” she responded, and immediately anticipated an opportunity to get back at her son for his earlier teasing.
“Is he single?”
“Uh huh.”
“Where does he work?”
Without a second going by, Lindsay replied lightly, “Oh, he’s a shepherd and . . . he’s taken a vow of poverty.”
Kristy was crestfallen. “I see,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sure that must be very rewarding for him. It’s been very nice to meet you.” Clearly disappointed, she turned away.
Lindsay smiled and sipped her iced tea. “There, he’ll always be my little monk,” she whispered to herself. “Revenge is sweet and mine.”
As she continued her private tour of the house, she noticed that the door to the study was slightly ajar, so she quickly ducked in and surveyed the vast library of books. As she turned to leave, she was surprised to find Caroline Kavanagh standing in the doorway. “Hello,” Lindsay said. “I was just admiring Kurt’s collection of books. It’s very impressive. Have we met?”
“I’m Caroline Kavanagh. We talked on the phone a few days ago.”
“Of course. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for inviting me. I brought my daughter instead of my husband, George, since he is not . . . he’s busy.”
“Yes,” Lindsay responded, and wondered about the real reason for George’s absence.
“Lindsay, if I may have a word with you about the wedding,” Caroline began, looking around to see that no one could hear her. “Being the mother of the bride, I’m sure you want everything to be perfect. I met Hannah West and her daughter earlier. I was thinking,” she said, hesitating, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but I wonder if it might be a good idea if someone advised them on what to wear to the wedding. I wouldn’t want them to feel embarrassed. You know it will be the event of the season, and . . .”
Lindsay, flummoxed by the remark, stared at Caroline as she searched for a response. “Embarrassed?” she managed.
“Yes. After all, everyone will be in their finest outfits, as I’m sure you will be,” she said, glancing at Lindsay’s attire in obvious disapproval. “Perhaps with someone’s help, maybe Lauren’s.”
“Caroline, I’m quite certain that Hannah and Carrie will look as lovely on that day as they do this evening. Besides, as with all weddings, all eyes will be on the bride and groom. I’m sure you’re as thrilled as I am that Joe is so happy.”
“Hmmmm . . . I’ll leave it to you, then.” Caroline turned away and headed back to the living room.
Lindsay shook her head and laughed. She caught Steven’s attention from just outside the study.
“What are you doing in here?” he
asked in a whisper, as he poked his head in around the door.
“Providing a life lesson to Caroline Kavanagh,” she answered, as she followed him out of the room.
* * * * *
Later, in the kitchen, Lindsay caught up with Carrie.
“Look at the view from the window,” Carrie said. “You can see down Waterford Valley and as far as Signal Hill. Isn’t it lovely? So lush and green this time of year.”
Lauren approached them from behind. “Yes, and you can see Joe and Sandi’s house, if they get it. See?” She pointed to the trees and garden that lined the back of the house they wanted to buy. “Oh, I really hope they do.” She turned to see her mother entering the kitchen. “Can I get you something?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks, Lauren. Hello, Lindsay, lovely to see you.”
“Nice to see you, Jeanne. We were just looking at the view, and Lauren pointed out Joe and Sandi’s house.”
Jeanne was surprised. “Do they have it? I wasn’t aware . . .”
Lauren shook her head. “No, not yet.”
Lindsay turned her head. “I thought theirs was the only offer. Surely Dan Maddox will accept it, won’t he?”
Lauren grimaced. “That’s the thing, Lindsay. David told us last night at dinner that he was talking to Dan yesterday morning, and apparently there’s been another offer, one that is slightly higher than Joe and Sandi’s. So right now, I’m sorry to say it doesn’t look good.”
“Did Mr. Maddox happen to mention who made the offer?” Carrie asked.
Lauren shook her head. “He simply said it was a man who was looking at it as investment property.”
Jeanne walked across the kitchen, her mind racing. Kevin was the first name that came to mind.
Carrie swivelled and faced her. “Jeanne, anyone you know? Surely there aren’t many people in this town who have the financial resources. How about that man we met? Kevin Gillis?”
“Possibly, but he has investments elsewhere,” was all she could manage.
“Besides,” Lauren observed, “I doubt he would be interested, would he? Doesn’t he want the Sinclair house?”
“I can’t speak for him, Lauren. It may be that he assumes I won’t be accepting his offer, so he’s looking for other options.”
Standing by the counter, Lindsay took it all in. Her mind reeled with the possibilities. She had a perfect vantage point to study Jeanne across the room without being noticed. What Kevin Gillis wants, Lindsay thought, is that woman in the gorgeous silk dress, and what better way for him to win Jeanne’s favour than to deny her son the opportunity to live right next door to his father?
* * * * *
In the living room, Joe joined Catherine and Hannah, who appeared to be enjoying each other’s company. “Here are my two grandmothers,” he said, proudly, as he sat in the chair between them.
Catherine smiled. “This has been a lovely evening. We just asked Sandi about the house you’re interested in. She said, sadly, that there’s been another offer.”
Joe nodded. “One that is higher than ours, so I guess Dan will go with whoever made the second offer. Unless we make a counter-offer.”
“Do you have any idea who the person was, Joe?” Hannah asked.
“No, I don’t.” He sighed. “I guess we’ll have to keep looking.”
Catherine smiled, her blue eyes glistening. “Don’t give up too soon.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Now, Grandma, you sound like your son, you know that?”
“There’s no need to be insulting,” she teased.
“It’s just that I know Dad would love nothing more than to interfere. And so would you. If Sandi and I go back to Dan with another offer, that’s our decision.”
“Of course.” Catherine nodded.
“And you and Dad will stay out of it,” he said slowly and clearly for emphasis.
“Absolutely.”
“And you’re not listening to me at all, are you?”
“I believe they call it selective hearing. That’s allowed once you turn seventy.”
Joe reached over and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then turned and did the same to Hannah. “Thank you, both of you, for being here this evening.”
Hannah squeezed his hand gratefully.
“Just remember,” Catherine said, “grandmothers do more than dust themselves off for special occasions.”
“Uh huh.” Joe nodded and stood. “I’ll talk to you both later.”
After he was out of earshot, Catherine sat back and ran her hand through her curls. “We grandmothers have responsibilities, don’t we, Hannah?”
“Definitely,” Hannah said with a laugh. “Sometimes things need a little push, and who better to do it than the person everyone would least suspect?”
* * * * *
At home, shortly before midnight, Jeanne closed the drapes in her bedroom and pulled back the sheets. She heard a rumble of thunder passing over the centre of the city. Good, that’ll clear the air. A thunderstorm. She heard Hannah’s footsteps as she walked down the hall. “Is everything all right?” she called.
Hannah stopped. “Oh yes, just getting some of my things from the bathroom. And you?” She stood at the entrance of Jeanne’s bedroom that smelled slightly of a citrus perfume.
“I’m okay.”
Hannah stood and waited for more.
“I’ve a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
“It was a nice evening, don’t you think? Joe’s grandmother, Catherine, is a very interesting woman. I could talk to her all night. Her husband, Christian, is charming. Such a sense of humour. When he and that young Quentin get together, oh my, I haven’t laughed that much in a very long time.”
Jeanne craned her neck to stretch and rubbed it firmly with both hands. She patted the bed, motioning for Hannah to sit. “Tell me, will you? How do you do it? How do you always stay so positive?”
Hannah lowered her head and smiled. “Oh, I’m not always positive, Jeanne. Just that an old dear like me doesn’t have the energy to be negative. You lose things the older you get, you know. Your nerves, for one, and your energy, for another.”
“I can add a few more items to that list,” Jeanne responded with a weak smile. “Collagen and hair colour.”
“You look lovely. You always do.”
“It takes more work than it used to,” Jeanne said, stifling a yawn.
Hannah took in her the spacious surroundings. “Kurt’s a fine man,” she observed, and then realized what she had said. “I’m sorry I said that. You likely don’t want to hear it.”
Jeanne looked down at her hands and clenched her fingers. “No, it’s okay, you’re right. He is.”
Hannah didn’t need the confirmation. She had watched Jeanne during the evening as she fixed her gaze on Kurt and listened to his every word, her eyes glistening.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened? Why didn’t you stay together?”
Jeanne removed her earrings and placed them in a case on the dresser. “We started off quite happy, especially when the children were born. But as the years went by, I guess the differences became all too apparent. I grew up believing that I would be the wife of someone important and that position in this community meant something. Kurt never saw it that way. His upbringing was very different from mine, and, eventually, that got in the way. There was no other woman, as far as I know. Just that I was no longer the one he wanted.”
“I lost Marshall after a lifetime of being together,” Hannah explained.
“He passed away. That’s different,” Jeanne said tersely. “He didn’t willingly walk away from you.”
“A loss is a loss. The next morning, he’s not there, however he left.” Hannah reached around and smoothed a wrinkle on the bedspread. “When Marshall died, three years ago this month,
so many people around me told me what a wonderful man he was. I knew that, of course, but I still appreciated their words. Still, it didn’t take away the anger that he was gone.”
“You were angry? I find that hard to believe.”
“Oh yes.” She sighed heavily. “Very angry. People don’t like anger in the bereaved. I tried not to be, but it kept coming back to me in waves.”
“What happened to change you? You don’t seem angry about it now.”
Hannah clasped her hands on her lap. “I got up one morning in September very early. I wasn’t sleeping well. Hadn’t been since Marshall . . . I made a cup of tea, pushed back the curtains in the kitchen window, and saw the most beautiful sunrise. Everything was still. The water was flat calm. There was a light band of cloud on the horizon that created several shades of blue and yellow. Oh, we have sunrises like that all the time in Falcon Cove, being on the water. You take them for granted. But this was the first time I had noticed it in a while. It made me angry, Jeanne. I thought, ‘How can you be so nice with Marshall gone? How could anything be? The world can’t be that nice to look at, not without Marshall in it.’”
Jeanne studied her face carefully, a face lined with care and laughter. She put her hands on the bed behind her, leaned back, and listened intently.
“Then, I guess I made a decision. Being angry at the sunrise didn’t make it change. It didn’t go away. It just stayed the same. The next morning it was just as lovely. My anger changed nothing, except me. It kept me awake, and it bothered my stomach. So, I gave it up. Or at least, I let it wear away. My friend, Adelia, kept me together. She still does.” She wrapped her small trembling hand around her daughter’s and squeezed it gently. “You lost your husband through divorce and your father through his passing. But did it change anything, except you?” Hannah looked at the pretty face next to her. She had Charles’s clear blue eyes. She remembered them. The same blue eyes that looked at her that day when he came to see her after Jeanne was born. “You have your father’s eyes.”
The words were difficult for Jeanne to hear. Her eyes welled up, and a stray tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another.
All Good Intentions Page 27