That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9)

by Mariah Stewart

  “You wait right here. I’ll be right back.” Jamie took off for the parking lot. Minutes later, she pulled up in front of the lobby doors and got out of the car. She opened the front passenger door and moved the seat back as far as it would go. “Okay, Grace, let’s see if we can figure out how to do this.”

  Jamie wheeled the chair as close to the car as possible and, after several attempts, got Grace standing on her good leg, the one in the cast resting gently on the ground.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dan’s voice broke Jamie’s concentration.

  “What does it look like we’re doing?” Grace snapped.

  “It looks like you’re about thirty seconds from breaking the other leg.” He turned to Jamie. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Before she could reply, Grace smacked her son on the arm. “Don’t talk past me as if I’m not here, and don’t speak to me or to Jamie in that tone. We’re going to Cuppachino for coffee. You’re welcome to join us if your attitude makes a speedy adjustment.”

  “Mom—” Dan protested.

  “Don’t ‘Mom’ me. I’ve been stuck here forever, and I’m going stir-crazy. Jamie’s going to the coffee shop, and I want to go.” Her eyes were glassy with tears. “I am going to go.”

  “If you wanted to go to Cuppachino, why didn’t you tell me, or Ford, or Lucy?” Dan’s tone softened.

  “Because you all have so much to do. You’re always so busy in the morning, and that’s when all my friends are there. That’s when I want to go. Jamie was kind enough to offer to take me, and I accepted.”

  “All right.” Dan sighed. “Let’s see if we can get you into the car without doing further damage.”

  “That’s my boy.” Grace smiled up at her son, and Jamie took a step back.

  With little fuss and great care, Dan lifted his mother and got her settled in the front seat, then folded the wheelchair.

  “Here, I’ll take that,” Jamie told him. “I’ll put it behind my seat.”

  He ignored her outstretched hand and carried the chair around to the driver’s side. Before Jamie could open the door, he caught her arm. “Next time you decide to take my mother somewhere, I’d appreciate it if you discussed it with me first.”

  “Your mother was the one who decided she wanted to come with me,” Jamie replied, “and I think she’s capable of making decisions for herself.”

  “What if I hadn’t come along? What if you’d dropped her while you were trying to get her into the car?”

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look, thank you very much, but if I’d found I wasn’t able to safely move her, I would have called the trip off or found someone to give me a hand.”

  “And once you get in town, how are you going to get her out and into the chair?” He leaned the chair against the side of the car. “And how are you going to get her back in to come home?”

  “Oh, knock it off, Dan,” Grace called from the front seat. “You know as well as I do that there will be someone at Cuppachino to give us a hand if we need one. It didn’t seem like such a big deal for you to get me in here. It won’t be a big deal to get me out. I’m sure I can find someone to give us a hand, even if I have to ask Carlo to come out and hoist me up.” She took a breath, then added, “And stop treating me like I’m a five-year-old. I am perfectly capable of deciding when I can and when I can’t do something.”

  “All righty, then.” Dan slid the wheelchair into the backseat and slammed the door. “I guess she told me.”

  “Thanks for helping.” Jamie smirked and got behind the wheel. “We’ll see you later.”

  “Take good care.” Dan leaned close to Jamie’s open window. His voice was cordial, but the fire was still in his eyes.

  “As if she were my own,” Jamie told him.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” Grace grumbled. “You’d think we were going all the way to Baltimore.”

  Dan stood back while Jamie drove past him onto the long driveway that led to Charles Street.

  “Honestly, you’d think I was on my last leg.” When Grace realized what she’d said, she laughed. “Well, I suppose, in a way, I am. But we’ll manage.”

  “He’s just worried about you. I’m sure the fact that I’m pretty much a stranger has him wondering if I can be trusted.”

  “Funny, but I don’t feel as if you’re a stranger at all,” Grace said solemnly. “I feel as if I’ve always known you.” She paused. “Are you sure you’ve never been in St. Dennis before?”

  “I’m positive,” Jamie assured her.

  “There’s something about you that’s so familiar,” Grace continued. “I’m not sure what it is, but it will come to me.”

  Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. “When it does, I hope you’ll share the revelation with me.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Jamie made the turn onto Charles Street and headed toward the center of town.

  “You know, I think it’s that you remind me of someone,” Grace continued. “I can’t quite figure out who, but sooner or later, I will remember.”

  And that, Jamie thought as she stopped at the red light, is exactly what I’m counting on.

  ONE WOULD HAVE thought that no one in St. Dennis had seen Grace in months by the way she was greeted when Jamie wheeled her into the coffee shop. Apparently not willing to take any chances, Dan had called ahead and asked if there was anyone who could assist his mother out of the car, and Carlo, the owner, had volunteered immediately. There were happy cries and even a bit of applause as they made their way to the front table where the locals gathered every morning before opening their businesses for the day. As the one responsible for Grace’s reunion with the group, Jamie was welcomed into the fold with open arms.

  “We’ve missed you so much,” Nita Perry, the fifty-something owner of the antique shop across the street, assured Grace.

  “Now, Nita, we see each other at least once a week, when you have dinner at the inn with your niece,” Grace reminded her.

  “That’s not the same, and you know it. Can’t very well bitch about my sister with her daughter sitting right there,” Nita told them.

  “You know you love Nancy like a . . . I’d say ‘like a sister,’ but I suppose that goes without saying.” Grace patted Nita’s hand, then turned to the woman seated across the table from her. “Eleanor, I’ve been dying to know how things are going at the flower shop.”

  “Here’s your order,” Carlo said as he approached the table with two mugs, a plate of scones, and a small pitcher of cream. “Special delivery.”

  “I’ll say it’s special.” Barbara leaned back in her chair. To Jamie, she said, “The routine here is, you order at the counter and wait for your coffee or whatever, then you go to that station over there”—she pointed to a table on the other side of the room—“get your sugar, creamer, et cetera, then you find a table. It appears Princess Grace here is getting special treatment.”

  “Of course,” Carlo said. “Why not? We’ve all missed her. We’re happy to have her back.” He dried his hands on his white apron, then patted Jamie on the back as he passed on his way to the counter. “You let me know when you’re ready to leave, and we’ll give you a hand getting her into the car.”

  Jamie nodded. “Thanks. Will do.”

  She sat back and listened to the chatter, trying to absorb as much as she could about the women at the table. The chance that the person she sought was actually at the table was pretty slim, Jamie knew that. But she paid attention all the same. Wasn’t it maddening that all three of the women were all in their early fifties and all had lived all their lives in St. Dennis—like her birth mother? Jamie wondered how many more women in town fit that description. Her heart sank just a little more. Her plan was looking more hopeless with every passing minute. For the next half hour, at least a dozen women in their early fifties—St. Dennis residents one and all—stoppe
d by to chat with Grace. Jamie studied each one, making note of their names on her phone and trying to commit their faces to memory, but she gave up after Lisa, who waitressed at a restaurant outside of town, and Joanna, the assistant librarian, joined the group.

  “I’m sure the book club that meets at the library every other Thursday night would love to discuss your book with you,” Joanna gushed. “That is, if you’re willing and still here the week after next.”

  “I’d love to,” Jamie told her.

  “Oh, that will be fun.” Grace was beaming. “It’s such a fun group. Mostly women of a certain age, you know, but they’re all fun.”

  Jamie smiled. The more events she attended, the more people she’d meet, and who knew whose path she might cross?

  “Isn’t that terrific, Jamie?”

  At the sound of her name, Jamie tuned back in.

  “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” Embarrassed, she felt a flush from her chest to her hairline.

  “I said, since putting the sign in the store window last night about the book signing, I’ve already had forty people leave messages on my voicemail to confirm that they would be there,” Barbara told her.

  “Wow. Word travels fast around here,” Jamie said.

  “Indeed it does. We’ll have a packed house,” Barbara said. “I left a message for my distributor, but I think I may need to up the number of copies of your new book.” She took a sip of tea, then added thoughtfully, “Maybe we should bring in extra copies of your last one as well.”

  “Whatever you think,” Jamie told her.

  “Jamie, I’m embarrassed to say I’m not familiar with your books.” The woman Grace had introduced as Eleanor from the flower shop leaned forward slightly to make eye contact with her. “What can you tell me about them?”

  The unexpected question caught Jamie off guard, and for a moment, that deer-in-the-headlights look was hers, and she knew it. “Ah well, mostly, I write about relationships and how it’s important to try to . . . ah . . . relate to one another openly.”

  “She’s being modest,” Grace told Eleanor. “Her books are blueprints for establishing honest communication between spouses, siblings, parents and their children, friends . . . anyone with whom you’re in a committed relationship.” Grace beamed. “I have to say that I own all of Jamie’s books, and I’ve bought copies for all three of my children.”

  “Did they actually read them?” Nita asked.

  “They did.” Grace nodded vigorously. “I know for a fact they did, because we’ve discussed them over dinner several times. Why, last winter, I had my grandkids read that chapter from The Honest Family, and we talked about how parents need to set the example for their children and how kids need to know that their honesty will always be respected.” She turned to Jamie. “The kids seemed to understand the concepts. I’ve no doubt your books have opened doors to discussions for many other families as well.”

  “Thank you, Grace. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “Well, we can continue this conversation at the book signing on Tuesday.” Barbara stood and gathered her mug and a plate holding half a croissant. “Right now I need to get my guy on the phone and make sure he got the message about the books.”

  “I should go, too.” Nita balled up a paper napkin in her hand. “I have someone coming in this morning to look at some Foo dogs I picked up at a house sale last week, and I know that somewhere in that back room of mine, there’s a ginger jar that would be perfect with those puppies.” She slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turned to Jamie. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll see if I can get someone to cover for me at the shop so I can stop over to your signing.”

  “If not, let me know. I can put a copy aside, and I’m sure Jamie would sign it for you,” Barbara said.

  “Of course.” Jamie smiled.

  “That would be great, thanks.” Nita returned the smile.

  “Wait and I’ll walk out with you.” Eleanor, too, stood. “Nice meeting you, Jamie. I hope we’ll see you around. Other than at your book signing, that is.”

  “I’ll be around for a while,” Jamie told her.

  “I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Barbara tapped her on the shoulder. “Gracie, so good to see you back where you belong.”

  “There was a song that went something like that.” Nita paused behind Grace’s chair.

  “That was the Dolly song,” Grace told her.

  “Whatever.” Barbara walked to the counter and deposited her mug and plate, the others following right behind.

  “Are you in a hurry, dear?” Grace asked Jamie when her friends had departed.

  “Not really.”

  “How about we get Carlo to give us a hand and we take a little drive around town? Would you mind a little detour on the way home?”

  “Of course not. I’d love it.” Jamie rose. “I’ll see if I can get Carlo’s attention.”

  It took under a minute for Jamie to catch Carlo’s eye. As promised, he dropped what he was doing and came around the counter and met Grace at the door.

  “I hope this means we can expect to see more of you, Grace,” he said as he carefully eased her into the front seat of Jamie’s car.

  “Since I’m relying on the kindness of others, I’d have to say I hope so, too,” Grace replied.

  “Anytime, Grace,” Jamie assured her. “As long as I’m here, I’m available whenever you want.”

  Both women thanked Carlo for his assistance, and Jamie prepared to pull away from the curb. “Which way, Grace?”

  “Go up to the light, then take the first right.”

  The light was green, so Jamie made the turn.

  “That’s Vanessa’s place there on the left.” Grace pointed to a picturesque bungalow that had an abundance of roses overflowing an arbor that marked the front gate.

  Jamie slowed as she passed the house. “It looks like something out of a magazine.”

  “She and Grady, her husband, have done a lot of work on the place. It had been neglected for a long time.” Grace added quietly, “My old friend Alice Ridgeway grew up there, lived there all her life. Rarely ever left it, died in there as well.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Vanessa says that she still stops by from time to time.”

  “What do you mean?” Jamie paused. “You don’t mean, like, her ghost is there?”

  “ ‘Ghost’ is such a silly word. It conjures up thoughts of small children running amok on Halloween night wearing white bedsheets with holes cut out for their eyes,” Grace said dryly. “I prefer ‘spirit,’ actually.”

  Jamie stopped at the corner and studied Grace from the corner of her eye. “You don’t really believe in ghosts—er, spirits—do you? I mean, not really?”

  “Who’s to say what dimension we go to when we leave this one, or how one’s spirit might communicate with those left behind?”

  “I guess.” Jamie continued to watch Grace, who was looking straight ahead and smiling.

  “Make a left at the stop sign, dear.”

  Jamie did as she was told.

  “That little house there—the third from the corner. Barbara Noonan owns that, inherited from her brother, Colin. Ford and Carly are renting it until they settle on the house they bought over on Grove Street. I daresay a wedding will follow in the spring.”

  “Oh, they’re engaged?” Jamie slowed as they passed the two-story house.

  “Not yet. But they will be.” Grace’s smug smile held a touch of mystery. “Now, down at the end of this street is the old Enright mansion. Family owned the house for over a hundred years, but last year Curtis Enright—he was the owner—signed it over to the town to use as a cultural and art center.”

  Grace pointed straight ahead, so Jamie continued to the last stop sign, her heart beating a little faster at the mention of the attorney’s name, her interest definitely piqued. “That’s the Enri
ght place?” Jamie leaned on the steering wheel and tried to take in the property.

  Grace nodded. “Since the 1860s. Enrights have been handling legal issues for most St. Dennis residents since that time. If you lived in St. Dennis and had a legal problem, you stopped in at Enright and Enright—the office is up the street there, on the square—and you saw Curtis or, before him, his father and uncle. Before them, another generation or two, I forget how many.”

  “Is the art center where Carly works in the mansion?”

  “No, it’s that building at the end of the driveway. The old carriage house. It was renovated last year. Carly’s doing a fine job of putting St. Dennis on the art world’s map. Right now she’s lining up an exhibit of works by Josette Taliferio.”

  A horn blasting behind them urged Jamie to move on. At Grace’s request, she made a left onto Old St. Mary’s Church Road. Along the way, Grace chattered about who had lived in which house, who had been born where, and who had recently purchased which property. The recital ran together in Jamie’s head.

  “Barbara lives in that yellow clapboard place there on the right. Nita—you met her, owns the antique shop—bought that little Victorian across the street about three years ago . . . My uncle James used to live there . . .”

  On and on throughout the town. It seemed almost everyone had an ancestral home that had remained in the family over the years. Thinking about all those fifty-some-year-old St. Dennis women who’d been born and raised here gave Jamie a massive headache. Any one of them could be the woman she was looking for; any house, the one her birth mother grew up in.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Grace touched Jamie’s arm, and again she felt that odd tingle all the way to her shoulder. “You’re looking a bit tense.”

  The tingle snapped Jamie out of her funk. “I’m fine. As long as you’re not getting tired.”

  “I think maybe we’ve both had enough drifting around town for one morning.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Only if you promise to give me the rest of the tour some other day.”