Hannah smiled. “You’ll have to replace your night cream if you keep doing that.”
Jeanne laughed out loud and reached for a tissue from the night table, nodding. “Yes, I will.” She tossed the tissue in a small container in the corner of the room. “Do you mind if I ask you something . . . well . . . difficult?”
“Go ahead,” Hannah answered, her words barely audible as she wondered what was coming.
“Looking back on it all, do you blame Father or do you blame yourself?”
Hannah gripped the edge of the bedspread. It was a question she had worried about and had no idea how she would answer, until now. “I’ve never blamed him. I used to blame myself. Virginia believed I was completely responsible, of course. I remember that.” She looked around the room and sighed. “I suppose she had a right to.”
Jeanne followed her words. “You mentioned your memories of her once before.”
“Jeanne, I had forgotten all the details until I met you in April. Now it seems that every day I remember things that I thought were long since forgotten. Words, smells, glimpses of people and things. Talking to Alva Green this summer brought up many memories for me. I remember just before I left that Virginia said she couldn’t blame me for being attracted to such a man, a man of such importance, as she described him. It was the way she said it, her tone. I knew she saw it as my fault.”
“You don’t feel that way anymore?”
“No.”
“What changed your mind?”
Hannah smiled warmly. “My brother, Toby, believe it or not. You met him back home.”
Jeanne nodded. “Yes, a quiet gentleman.”
“That’s Toby. Doesn’t say much, but he listens and he watches. He takes it all in. ‘A still tongue makes a wise head,’ he often says. Probably comes from spending over sixty years on the sea being too busy to talk.”
Jeanne smiled at the accuracy of his mantra. “How true. What did he tell you to change your mind?”
“That life happens. It’s as simple as that. We do what we do, and at the time we think we’re doing the right thing. Simple, I know, but it made sense to me. Toby never judges. He leaves it to the Good Lord, he says. Claims He has more time to judge people because He doesn’t have to make a living.” Hannah laughed. “At least not on the North Atlantic.”
“I wish I had Toby’s approach to living.”
“Don’t we all.” Hannah patted Jeanne’s hand on the bed. “I learned the day that Dr. Hamlyn told me I was going to have a baby that I had to rely on myself. I was only eighteen. Just do the best you can, Jeanne. That’s all. That’s what we were all taught in Sunday school a long time ago. It’s too bad that children don’t learn that anymore. It seemed right at the time.” Hannah shook her head and smiled. “To think that Marshall and I sent Carrie to theology school for three years to learn the same thing.”
Jeanne laughed along with her.
“That’s terrible of me,” Hannah whispered. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
Jeanne promised, “No, I won’t.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s bothering you. Is it still your father and what he did to Mr. Gillis?”
Jeanne rubbed her eyes. “Yes, that’s part of it, but even if I accept that, I don’t know what to say to Kevin. I have to tell him about the house, and I haven’t even decided what to do. It’s unusual for me to have such trouble making a decision. At the same time, it’s nagging me that Father could have done what Kevin says he did. I just can’t imagine it. I’ve spent a lifetime fighting what other people told me about my father.”
“Kevin has no idea why?”
Jeanne shook her head. “No, at least not that he told me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Father had his moments with some of his employees. He was expected to be a man of authority. People looked up to him. They respected him.”
Hannah struggled with her response. “Or they needed to,” she said with a shallow breath.
There was silence.
Then Jeanne said, “I’m sure you already know that Joe had little regard for Father. Kurt never got along well with him either. At best he was civil. Joe couldn’t manage that much, despite my wishes. I guess I have to accept the fact that Kurt and Joe have been right about him all along.”
Hannah paused, looked down at her feet, and made a pattern with her toe in the plush woollen rug. “I’ve no right to guess, Jeanne, but perhaps your father resented Kurt because to him Kurt’s success came easy. Charles had Clarence Boland pressing him all the time. As for Joe, well, remember, he’s young. No doubt as a teenager he hoped that his grandfather would support his decisions. Every young man expects that much. He admired his grandfather Steffensen, and it’s clear how much his family means to him. Christian told me tonight about Joe when he was growing up. He talked about all his grandchildren. He’s so proud of each one of them. Joe likely compared his two grandfathers all his life. I doubt that anyone will ever change his mind.”
Jeanne pursed her lips. “To be honest, Father didn’t make much of an effort. He was tough on Joe, in particular. The children were brought up differently than I was or Emily. Unlike Emily and I, Joe and Lauren were taught to be part of the family’s social circle. Kurt saw to that. Father always seemed to be annoyed when they spoke.”
A noise interrupted their conversation, and they looked up to find Carrie standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Still up? What are you two doing?”
“Nothing,” Hannah responded. “Just chatting about this evening.” She stood and stretched. “Now I must get to bed. I promised Leah I would help her make soup tomorrow.”
Carrie turned to leave. “I’m going to the bakery in the morning to get some of those chocolate-dipped macaroons that Sara described to me. Yum.”
Hannah turned back to Jeanne, who was just getting up from the bed and drawing back the sheets. “Carrie has not gotten through a day without something sweet since she came into the world. Just like her father. Marshall used to say that meals weren’t over until he had something sweet, even if it was a spoonful of jam.” She paused, resting her hand on the frame of the door. “You’re like me, Jeanne. You only eat when you need to, not when you want to.”
“Yes, I guess I am,” Jeanne responded with a chuckle.
Hannah paused for a long time. “I can’t believe that after a lifetime of wondering what I would say to you if I ever met you, all I managed was a feeble, ‘Good morning and welcome to our church.’”
Jeanne laughed. “Frankly, I had no idea what I would say to you either.” She stopped and their eyes met. “Good night.”
Moments later, Jeanne lay in bed, staring at the bright full moon through the maple trees in her garden. The sky had cleared once the thunderstorm had passed by in the distance. Despite her inability to go to sleep, she hadn’t felt so good in a very long time.
* * * * *
The humidity had lessened when Jeanne woke early on Sunday morning. She was up and dressed before any of her house guests stirred, so she left them a note in the kitchen saying that she would return in about an hour.
Jeanne switched the car’s air conditioning on low and pulled out of her driveway, heading east. Her mind was focused on one thought, the possibility that Kevin Gillis was trying to purchase the Maddox house. As she hoped, she found him sitting alone at a table in the Cabot Club of the hotel. She approached, and when he saw her, his face lit up. He momentarily forgot about their last conversation.
“Jeanne, good morning. This is a surprise.”
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Not at all.” He stood. “Please join me. May I order you some breakfast?”
“Just tea, Earl Grey, thanks,” she said to the waitress.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you, especially after our last conversation.”
“Ne
ither was I. But I took a chance that you’d still be here. Joe mentioned that you plan to stay around this week to complete your research.”
“Mmm . . . it’s a good time to do it while I’m here. I’d like to do some writing in the fall. Is there something you want?”
“Just an answer to a question, if you don’t mind. Then I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”
“It’s okay. I welcome your company. What is it?”
“It seems that someone else has put in an offer on the house that Joe wants on Waterford Bridge Road. Would that someone else be you?”
“Me? No. Not me. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. Frankly, now that I’m here, I guess it was a shot in the dark. I’m sorry. I thought maybe you would consider other options if you didn’t purchase the Sinclair house.”
“I’ve driven by the house in question and stopped to look at it outside. But it’s really not suitable for an inn. Besides, no doubt Kurt and his friend, Dr. Gilchrist, would certainly see to it that residential zoning would never permit an inn in that neighbourhood. Joe really wants the place, he and Sandi. Who am I to deny them what they want? A young couple starting out.”
“Indeed. Fine, then.” She sipped her tea. “I won’t keep you.”
“How was the engagement party?”
“I think it went well. Joe and Sandi seemed happy.”
A voice interrupted, and Jeanne looked up to find Caroline and Brittany standing at the table. Wonderful, thought Jeanne, just what I need.
“Good morning, Jeanne!” Caroline was speaking to her but sizing up Kevin at the same time. Brittany stood back from her mother, clearly embarrassed by her mother’s intrusion. “Enjoying your breakfast?”
“Good morning. Kevin, this is my friend, Caroline Kavanagh, and her daughter, Brittany. This is Kevin Gillis.” She declined to label their relationship. “Where’s George? Is he with you?”
“Now, Jeanne, you know where George is this morning. On the golf course. Do you golf, Mr. Gillis?”
“Please call me Kevin. No, I don’t golf. I’ve always viewed it as a waste of a good walk.”
While Caroline looked puzzled at the response, behind her, Brittany laughed and made a knowing eye contact with Jeanne.
“An interesting evening, Jeanne. We’ll have to get together for a post-mortem.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow at Caroline’s suggestion.
“Yes, we’ll have lunch soon, Caroline. It’s nice to see you, Brittany.”
“We’ll leave you to your breakfast. Lovely meeting you, Kevin.”
“A pleasure to meet you both.”
Once they were out of view, Jeanne rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forehead. “Oh my. Caroline will have this story across town before I get home.”
“What? That we had breakfast together? Not so bad, is it?” he asked in amusement.
Jeanne struggled in vain to keep from laughing. “No, Kevin,” she said with a broad smile, “it isn’t so bad. But believe me, Caroline will have it turned into more than breakfast by the time she’s told the story a dozen times.”
He stood as she got up to go. “If I hear anything about the house, Joe’s house, I’ll let you know. There can’t be too many potential buyers.”
“True. It just seems strange that suddenly someone comes from out of nowhere to outbid him.”
“Outbid him? So they’re offering more than Joe’s offer?”
“Yes. I don’t know by how much.”
“Whatever the amount, the individual clearly is motivated to purchase.”
“Yes, he is.”
And Kevin watched her walk away.
* * * * *
Carrie returned from the bakery in the Square laden with trays of chocolate-dipped macaroons and oatmeal crisps. As she unpacked them on the kitchen counter, she was surprised by her mother’s request to visit Alva Green that afternoon.
“I phoned her a few minutes ago, and she said I was welcome to drop by any time.” Hannah appeared energized by her conversation with Jeanne the night before. It took a while for Carrie to hear the story of Edgar Gillis. She reserved judgment, although inwardly she felt for the man and had no doubt that Charles had treated him unjustly.
Shortly after lunch, Carrie drove Hannah to Alva’s and decided to stay, if only to ensure that their visit was not too long. Hannah and Alva sat comfortably on the back deck of her home and chatted about the engagement party and winters in Falcon Cove. She was relieved when Alva’s daughter, Susan, preoccupied Carrie with a conversation about northern Ontario, where they both had lived many years ago. The two had moved to the kitchen for a chat, leaving Hannah and Alva alone. Hannah took the opportunity to move to a chair closer to her friend.
“Alva, while I have the chance, I want to ask you something, if I may.”
“Of course, my dear, what is it?”
“Clarence Boland . . .” But before she could go further, Alva held up her hand.
“Oh my, dreadful man.”
“Really?”
Alva nodded. “What did you want to know about him?”
“I don’t recall seeing him much, nor his wife, or anyone from the Boland family, for that matter, but then, I wasn’t in much of a position to see them. I’m sure he must have come by the house while I was there.” Hannah took a deep breath. “It’s just that Jeanne has recently met a man named Kevin Gillis, and his father apparently was the carpenter who worked for the Sinclairs.”
“Of course! Edgar. I was trying to remember his name after your last visit. Edgar Gillis. I remember him now.”
“According to Kevin, his father built the beautiful staircase in the Sinclair house.”
“That’s right. Poor man slaved over it for weeks. It must have been the hottest summer on record.”
“He was paid for his work, of course, but Kevin says that after that he never worked in St. John’s again.”
Alva’s expression saddened. “Yes, that’s true, as far as I remember. I really don’t know what happened, Hannah. My Lawrence spoke about it over the years. I knew that Mr. Boland was angry with Edgar, but I didn’t know why. Neither of us did.”
“Mr. Boland was angry?” Hannah questioned, wondering if her friend was confusing Charles and Clarence Boland. “Not Charles?”
“No. Lawrence was still working at the Sinclairs’, and he told me that Mr. Boland didn’t like the work being done. For some reason, after he finished—that must have been in the 1950s, I’d guess—he made sure that Edgar never got work again. He spread terrible lies about him. He even accused him of being dishonest. How awful was that? Edgar was a good Christian man. He and his wife, Annabella, never missed a service. He used to joke with me that the Good Lord would have to set up a pew for Annabella in heaven since she was so used to sitting in it all her life.” Alva laughed at the image.
“Alva, why in the world would someone conjure up such awful things when they weren’t true?”
“I have no idea, Hannah. I s’pose we’ll never know. They’re all gone now. But you tell Jeanne that it wasn’t Mr. Charles who spread those terrible lies. It was his father-in-law. Her Mr. Gillis got it wrong.”
* * * * *
Hannah and Carrie arrived home mid-afternoon to find Jeanne sitting at the bay window in the kitchen with a set of files and a banker box next to her.
“How was your visit?” she asked, looking up.
Hannah sat at the table next to her. “We learned a lot.”
“You did, Mother,” Carrie interjected. “Excuse me, but I’m going to pack up my things so we can leave early tomorrow morning.” She headed upstairs.
Hannah began. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked Alva privately about Edgar Gillis.”
Jeanne looked at her wide-eyed. “You did? No, no, tha
t’s okay. What did she tell you?”
“This might surprise you. Charles was not the one who was angry with Edgar. In fact, he was pleased with the work that Edgar had done. He paid him well. It was Clarence Boland who was angry and wanted nothing more to do with him. It was Mr. Boland who started all those terrible rumours.”
Jeanne stared at her in disbelief. “Are you certain?”
Hannah nodded. “Alva might be elderly, but believe me, her mind is sharp.”
Jeanne sat back. This was a side of Hannah she had not witnessed, but it was wonderful to see her so energetic and self-satisfied. She smiled. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve really been doing some digging, haven’t you?”
“Well, I just wondered, ’tis all. The whole thing didn’t sit right. Now we know. Someone should tell Mr. Gillis, because he’s been given the wrong story.”
“Apparently. The only thing is . . . why?”
“That I can’t answer, neither could Alva.”
“Okay, well, thank you. I will pass this along to Kevin.” She heard Carrie’s footsteps on the staircase. “By the way, Lauren called. She wondered if you’d like to go with her for a little drive, perhaps stop somewhere for ice cream. She wants to see you before you return to Falcon Cove.”
“Of course, that’s wonderful. I’ll go and clean up.” Hannah stood. “When will she be here?”
“In about a half-hour.”
With Lauren and Hannah gone, Jeanne tidied her files and stored them by the table in the sunroom. She glanced outside and saw the sun valiantly trying to peek through the grey clouds. She made some iced tea and sat back to enjoy the view of her gladiolas, finally in full bloom.
Carrie came around the corner. “Tea, Jeanne?”
“Thanks, I made some iced tea, but if you prefer hot tea, help yourself. “
Carrie returned with a china mug of tea and two chocolate macaroons lodged on a plate. “Mother’s had quite the day.”
Jeanne laughed. “Yes, she has. I don’t know what has motivated her to take on asking questions about the Bolands.”
All Good Intentions Page 28