by CF Frizzell
Ellis fought the onset of a headache. Her pride wanted out of this predicament and had been prepared to make a stand. The rational part of her, however, saw possibilities, and the conflict was physically uncomfortable. Why am I even seeing potential here? Feeling so torn just proved that she’d failed—once again—to become the secure, bulletproof, independent woman she’d set out to establish years ago. Actually considering Maggie’s scheme said her subconscious sought to fill a void, and she mentally shuddered to think one still existed in her life, that she really hadn’t risen all that far from the depths of past failures. She did know that feeling torn made her vulnerable and insecure, and that felt a bit scary. How does she always end up in my head this way?
“You used to have a shipping operation, not long ago,” Maggie said, “with your father, I’ve heard. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you stop?”
I really don’t want to go there, Maggie.
“I wasn’t the businessman he was.”
“I see. My guess is you miss the work, though, miss running your own boat.”
Don’t.
“Living on it means everything to me.”
“I’m sure, especially with all the memories.” You may know more than you’re letting on, Maggie, but there’s no way you know how I feel. “How often to you take the Rose out?”
“I shoot for at least once a week. It keeps us both shipshape.” Is that what you wanted to hear, propping me up to see things in a positive light? Please don’t make me resent you.
Retta bobbed up onto all fours when Maggie stood. Tail wagging tirelessly, she looked from Maggie to Ellis and back, and Maggie patted her head appreciatively.
“You’re sending me sulking back to my drawing board, Ellis, but I simply can’t give up on this. Just so you know.”
“I like you, Maggie. A lot, and I wanted to explain.”
“I appreciate that. I do understand, but—”
“The Rose is far more than a business tool. It’s personal.”
“And I can appreciate that as well, fully.”
“But you won’t let the idea go.”
She longed to hear Maggie agree to drop the whole scheme, to finally see things from her perspective. If Maggie knew about the Rose’s history, and it appeared she at least knew some of it, she should respectfully back off. But Maggie didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she seemed content watching Retta sniff the hedges. At last, she looked haplessly at Ellis and shook her head.
“No, I can’t seem to let it go.”
Ellis jammed her hands into her pockets and exhaled toward her feet. Damn if she isn’t as stubborn as she is beautiful.
“Business isn’t my thing. Hasn’t been for more than ten years now.”
“I know you’re not in the freight business anymore, so maybe I should have realized that a formal business proposition was the last thing you’d want to entertain.” She clasped the leash in both hands and tipped her head curiously. “What if we didn’t call it business per se, and just connected as friends?”
“Meaning what, exactly?” How many have you made since moving here in April? Probably not many. But friends do favors for one another. Is that what you want? Or are you suggesting something else entirely?
“We are friends,” Maggie said, “so maybe nothing has to be formalized. Maybe we could work out a now-and-then arrangement, or maybe you’d consider a retainer-type option, you know, on an as-needed basis?”
Ellis held up her palms. “Maggie, I—”
“Something to think about at least?”
Ellis let her arms drop with resignation. “Something we could have a drink over, yes.”
“That’s a great idea.”
Ellis returned the little coy smile and had to shake her head at Maggie’s persistence. Friendship with a woman this attractive and refreshingly assertive appealed in a big way, almost enough to draw Ellis out of her solitary habit, but this was just asking too much.
Why does it feel like this conversation isn’t finished? Did I make my point at all?
“We’ll talk,” Ellis said with finality, and took a step forward to pat Retta.
“I hope so. Even if you didn’t have the answer I hoped to hear, I’m glad we saw each other tonight.” Maggie bit her lip as she took a breath, and Ellis saw the disappointment she’d created.
It’s better this way. Let it go.
“Always enjoy seeing you, Maggie. Good night.”
*****
Maggie shut down her printer and stepped into the kitchen in time to see Rachel rummaging through the fridge, an overflowing beach bag at her feet. Wearing shorts and a bikini top, T-shirt slung over her shoulder, the little-sister image of many years past sent a nostalgic whisper of home across the room.
“Heading to the beach now?”
“Yup.” Rachel turned, showed her the orange juice, and poured it into her water bottle. “I’m getting out of your hair. Is that what’s put the glimmer of sunshine on your face?”
“No, dummy. I just took our biggest reservation of the season so far.”
“No way!”
“An all-female bridal party just took every room we had left—for a week, starting Saturday.”
“Oh, my God, Mags! That’s awesome!”
“How serendipitous, huh? Right when I need to show Jill the books and I had only two parties reserved.”
“No kidding. How’d this happen?”
“Well, I guess the hotel they’d booked in Yarmouth just had a fire, so they found us online. Thank God.”
“Yeah. And all women? Lucky you, big sister.” Rachel stuffed the water bottle into her bag. “Well, now you’re definitely too preoccupied to hang with, and you’re only going to get worse, with Miss Lawyer due in a couple hours, so I’m leaving.”
“I’m nervous, that’s all. Tuck’r has to make a good impression.”
“Oh, I know. So I’m out of here.” She settled oversized red-rimmed sunglasses into place and grinned. “Breakfast was yummy, by the way. Eating outside on such a gorgeous morning, with the birds, the flowers…It was just perfect. I’m glad we had the time, just us. Thank you.” She stepped closer and put a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Ellis turned you down.”
“Thanks. Me, too. Shame on me for getting my hopes up. Wouldn’t you know, the bridal party asked for a boat cruise? I had to think fast, so I looked up one I’d heard decent things about and booked it.”
“Too bad it won’t be Ellis. But she might come around, you know. She might like the informal arrangement idea.”
“It is her home, for God’s sake.” Maggie shook her head. “Jesus, I sounded so pushy that night, and right after we’d had a great time together. I don’t want her thinking I’m inconsiderate. Aside from the fact that an informal arrangement probably wouldn’t work anyway, and I have no idea what I was thinking, it was grossly unfair of me to put her in such a position.” She sagged against the counter. “Guess I’m just worried.”
“Hey, chin up. Take a good look.” Rachel waved a hand around the room. “Try to see all this with new eyes. It’s wonderful, what you’ve done here.” She poked Maggie in the stomach. “Personally? I can’t imagine parting with all this. Hell, I’d move in and never leave. But, look. Word will get out, I’m sure, and places will start calling to team up with Tuck’r. I just know it.”
“Thanks, honey. I just need Jill to believe that.”
“Oh, she’s bound to, Maggie. She’s no fool. Tuck’r is freakin’ gorgeous and intimate, convenient to everything, not overpriced.” Rachel tugged her into a one-armed hug. “Tuck’r is young and promising. She’ll see.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you, too. And now I’m going to find me a beach and flirt with some hot, ripped guys.” She patted her cheek and spun away. “You’re going to meet Jill at the boat?”
“Yes. I want to walk her up here, have her enjoy the stroll and take it all in.”
“Smart idea. Good luck—and good luck to
me!” she yelled as the back door slapped shut.
Retta ran to watch her leave. “Auntie Rachel’s on a mission,” Maggie said, and Retta whined to go out. “We’ll be going out soon.”
She refilled Retta’s water bowl as laughter filtered in from the common room. The house seemed empty without it, and she thanked her lucky stars that Tuck’r at least would be moderately busy during Jill’s stay.
But Rachel was right, everywhere one looked, appliances, furniture, woodwork, decorative schemes, even the landscaping, drew an appreciative eye. Tuck’r was a gem and she was damn proud. Now, if only business would grow to sustain it as fast as her hopes had broadened to sell it.
She chuckled as she put the OJ back in the fridge. “If you moved in, little sister, I’d make you finally learn to pick up after yourself.” The concept of Tuck’r as “home” made Maggie pull out a chair and sit. Reverently, she ran her palm across the antique tabletop, a fixture she’d always dreamed of owning. “I might have to take you with me when this is over.”
She sat back and sighed. “But where would I put you?” The large oak farmer’s table certainly wouldn’t fit in the galley kitchen of her Philadelphia condo. Moving somewhere to accommodate the table seemed silly. Besides, it had come with the house, actually had been in it for more than a century, and she recalled her excitement at having its surface refinished, the generations of nicks and dents perfectly preserved. “I think you belong here,” she whispered and, for the first time, wondered if she did as well.
Chapter Twelve
“You’re spoiling me, Maggie. This espresso is scrumptious. And your precious little muffins would be a marketing sensation all by themselves.” Jill took a deep breath of the fragrant air and shook her head as they lounged on the front porch. “The prospect of leaving all this right now for our boxy little office in congested Boston is just so unappealing.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased. In fact, I’m selfishly thankful we don’t have a full house right now just so you can appreciate the serenity. It’s addictive.”
“I agree, totally. You’ll have your hands full in just a couple of hours, though. A houseful arriving all at once will break this spell quite pointedly.”
“Nothing we can’t manage. I’m excited. They’ll be praising Tuck’r wherever they go for years to come. Many will return because Nantucket is difficult to resist.”
“How I wish I had discovered the island during my college years. The Dickensian allure truly is charming. I loved your tour yesterday, and the five-star dining? All over-the-top, Maggie.”
“And don’t forget the wine. More will be waiting when you get home.”
“It was outstanding. Thank you for that.” She squeezed Maggie’s hand. “You have me longing to stay and I haven’t even left, you know.”
“Please come back any time.” Maggie slipped her hand away and feigned a pout. “I hate to put a damper on this, but—”
“Oh, you’re right! Speaking of leaving.”
“Let me walk you to the waterfront,” Maggie offered, and they headed inside. Jill rolled her suitcase to the door as Maggie clipped Retta to the leash.
“She’s well behaved,” Jill said, inching away when Retta nosed her hand.
“She’s very popular around town. Folks ask about her as much as they do Tuck’r.” She led them down the walkway, but on the sidewalk, she turned to see Jill hadn’t followed them through the gate. Instead, she stood looking back, assessing the house again.
“So very pretty,” Jill said, finally joining them. “Quaint, immaculate, and very pretty. I’m glad we connected last year, Maggie. Tuck’r has terrific potential and Cavanaugh definitely is interested.”
Maggie fought the urge to skip down the street.
“Occupancy could be better,” Jill went on, “but it is coming along rather well. Your marketing has been first-rate.”
“Thank you. That’s so good to hear. I know I have high hopes, but they’re realistic. I think you’d agree, they’re justified. Nantucket tends to sell itself.” They crossed Main Street’s cobblestones at the intersection with South Water, headed for the Hy-Line ferry on Straight Wharf. Retta stopped them, a tree much more important than their walk, and Maggie seized their pause to emphasize the obvious.
“I don’t think this little square has really changed in some three hundred years. It doesn’t get more precious than that. Islanders preserved everything they could through the generations, from the cobblestones, to the buildings, the street lamps, this horse trough memorial in the center, even the trees. And they tell me that the Nantucket Stroll in December is a magical trip into a true Dickens Christmas.”
Retta tugged them toward the next tree, but Maggie urged her onward. Jill hadn’t reacted to the little tour guide narrative, and Maggie hoped she hadn’t bored her with details. It’s important she understand the scope of the island’s appeal.
Now in the boarding line on Straight Wharf as the ferry docked, Jill turned from the sleek modern vessel and focused evenly on Maggie.
“Nantucket has won you over.”
“I found it charming right from the start, yes.”
“Will we still have business to conduct when I return on Labor Day?”
“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you for giving Tuck’r the summer to prove itself.”
“I’ll bring the necessary paperwork with me then.”
*****
A boisterous cluster of young women settled along the Eagle’s promenade deck rail beside Ellis, laughing and gesturing with cocktails in hand at the majesty of Brant Point Light. She knew more of their group remained sunning themselves on the open deck above and was thankful the entire bunch hadn’t chosen to disturb her favorite moment of every arrival.
“What’s the tradition about throwing pennies?” a tall redhead asked, drawing the attention of her friends.
“When you round Brant Point as you leave, you make a wish for a quick return,” Ellis answered, and smirked when two women pitched quarters toward the lighthouse.
“We’re just so excited to finally get here,” the redhead continued. “It’s Jenny and Leigh’s honeymoon and we are ready to parrr-tay!” The eight women cheered her statement. “So, hi,” she added, sidling closer along the rail and extending her hand. “I’m Ali, maid of honor.”
“Ellis Chilton,” she said and shook her hand.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Ellis Chilton. Do you live on Nantucket?”
A petite blonde leaned in between them. “Don’t answer that, Ellis Chilton. You could be in danger.” She rapped Ali’s shoulder playfully and muttered, “Down, tiger,” before rejoining the others.
“Ah, yes. The wedding party,” Ellis said. “I saw you all come aboard. You’re in luck because the week’s forecast calls for great beach weather.”
“We’re going cruising, too, I think, all around the island on a boat rented just for us.”
Ellis hoped that operator was prepared for this lively crew. “Sounds like a fun time.”
“We really lucked out, considering we had to change hotels last-minute. Leigh found a place called Tuck’r Inn and landed this great package deal.”
Ellis was all ears now and hoped Ali would hurry up with more details. In a few minutes she had to be on the cargo deck for docking.
“The deal included the boat ride?”
“Sure did. Three hours’ worth.” Ali leaned against her shoulder. “Insanely expensive, I guess, but the inn is eating almost the entire thing. Drinks and lunches, included.”
Ellis found herself calculating the expense of a three-hour cruise and wondered who the operator was and if Maggie was being charged by the hour or the person. There were about twenty of them, she recalled. Why do I even care?
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a terrific time.” She wished them well as she left the rail and hustled down the stairs to her post, completely distracted.
Seaman McCall joined her as the Eagle inched into place at the wharf, its now-o
pened bow gingerly meeting the asphalt of the parking lot ramp. Together, they worked speedily with Steamship Authority dockworkers ashore to secure the ship.
“Quite the bunch, that wedding group,” he said as they surveyed the load of vehicles ready to be waved off. “You know any of them?”
“No, Wes.” Ellis sighed at his snicker and began waving drivers ashore. “I’m just glad none of them is driving. They’d already had a few when they boarded, and it ought to be entertaining just watching them make it down the gangway.”
He laughed as he pointed directions to drivers. “You meet the bride? Er…the blond one, that is. She’s a looker, huh?”
“They all were cute.”
“Hell, Chilton. For someone who ain’t picky, how is it you don’t have a woman of your own?”
Here we go again.
“Told you before. The Steamship won’t give me time off.”
He roared as he usually did when she delivered her standard response. Somehow, though, it didn’t make her laugh as much anymore. In fact, it made her think too much, and that usually wasn’t a good thing.
There hadn’t been a woman in her life for years, not since Nicki, but remembering her father’s pleasure at her happiness back then made her smile where she stood. An elderly woman in a Mustang inched onto Nantucket soil and winked, thinking the smile was for her.
Damn. Most of those seven years were exciting, romantic, so full of promise. And then her father passed. Her heart still clenched whenever she recalled his memorial service and Nicki’s whispered “You’re free from all this now.” But she refused to abandon her legacy, and life became a doomed, all-consuming struggle to carry on in his name. Their relationship lasted just four stormy months more.