Something Sean had not told her about the sea was that it stole time. It seemed only six breaths since she had stepped foot on the sand, but all around her families were unpacking lunches. She looked at her watch, shocked to see it was well after noon.
7
Mudge and Aggie and I, we stole the Sandpiper off the restaurant roof one summer. But it broke Old Man Menard’s heart, so we brought it back.
The Sandpiper Restaurant stood just off one pier, a carving of the bird it was named after on its roof.
Sean had said Aggie had worked at the Sandpiper. Emily didn’t think it likely that Aggie would still be working there so many years later, but at least it was a place where Sean had been, so she decided to eat lunch there.
It wasn’t much to look at inside. Lined with 70s diner booths, the central floor was crowded with dark wooden tables and chairs that had a faintly nautical look. It wasn’t too busy, so she was glad she was here at the end of the season. She’d be able to get a table easily enough. No need for the server to look at her with annoyance because she was a single person taking up a perfectly good table for four.
The Sandpiper has a fish sandwich to die for. Sean had made her mouth water describing the tender fish, the crisp beer batter coating, the crunch of red cabbage slaw. And Emily didn’t even like fish sandwiches, but Sean had promised her that she would change her mind once she’d had one from the Sandpiper.
She ordered the fish sandwich with garlic fries, which she was pretty sure weren’t on the menu twenty years ago. Sean had only mentioned crispy thin-sliced fries. But if she didn’t like the fish sandwich, she’d at least feel full after eating the garlic fries. Since Mudge wasn’t really interested in talking to her, she should be safe eating that much garlic.
The server was a woman about Emily’s age. Quiet and friendly, but not outgoing. No ‘honey’ or ‘doll’ or ‘dearie’ out of her. Just, “What can I get you?”
Emily ordered, distracted by the view of the ocean through the windows. The families come here in the summer and wash away the cares of the year in the sea. Redemption. That’s what the sea is. Like the Prodigal Son coming home and being welcomed with a feast.
Redemption. She hadn’t realized why it mattered so much for him. But under his lies, he must have felt some shame. Some desire to stop lying and tell the truth. She took a deep breath. Had he ever meant to come here with her? Or had that been a lie, too? Suddenly, she was not sure. His luggage had been tumbled out on the carousel, right next to hers. The police had taken it, in case it had any clues, other than the ones that indicated he planned a vacation by the sea.
The letter, the pictures, the birth and death certificate had been in the outer zip pocket of her suitcase. She hadn’t found them until the police had left her at the airport, with no husband, no answers, and no idea what to do next. Sean must have put them there. Had he hoped that finding the birth and death certificate in the name of Sean McManus would tell her something? She had one last hope that the letter he had left her would explain it all. But she couldn’t bear to open it and find out. So she was left with the pictures.
Emily smiled up at the server when the food was delivered, and then felt a buzz of electricity pass through her. The woman looked like a grown up version of the girl in Sean’s picture. But then she doubted herself. The hair was different. It was a different color, a darker brown, and it was cut short, for efficiency, not style.
She didn’t want to stare. Hair could change. Emily’s hair had changed more than once since she was in her teens.
She tried to discreetly check for a name tag, but there wasn’t one. As soon as the server left her table, Emily slid the pictures out of her pocket to check. Yes. The young girl with the long blonde hair and carefree smile could be the same woman who had served Emily her fish sandwich, fries, and iced tea.
Emily wondered if she should try to strike up a conversation. See if she could get a name and confirm her suspicion.
But then the young man who had called Forrey Akerman away from Emily’s wheedling came bounding into the restaurant. “Hey Mom, have you got the order ready? We’re about to take off and this boatload of tourists looks like they’ll eat us if we don’t bring the food with us. Boss says he’ll feed me to them first.”
The server who had waited on Emily laughed out loud. “It’s ready, don’t worry.” She handed over two coolers, one marked Hot and one marked Cold. “If you don’t keep them out past time, you should be home tonight with all your juicy arms and legs still attached. Just in time to take out the trash.”
He groaned. “Between you and the Boss, I get no time to have fun.”
“That’s the idea,” his mother said, smiling at him, with one eyebrow cocked up in a way that said if she didn’t keep him busy, he’d be in trouble.
He bounded out, carrying the two loaded coolers as if they weighed nothing.
“Aggie, you raised a good boy there,” said the cook, from behind the pass-through window that led to the kitchen.
Aggie.
Emily considered calling her over on the pretense of refilling her iced tea, but hesitated. What would she ask her? “Remember that boy you knew, twenty years ago? Do you know why he would marry me, and then leave me standing alone at the airport only to find he had never boarded the plane?”
The thought of explaining what had happened to Aggie stopped her. She had felt foolish enough when she talked to the airport personnel, and made a police report to the bored detective. Sean had booked her a first class seat, but only a coach for himself. She’d protested, but he’d insisted. First class for my bride. You can ride coach with me on the way back.
Explaining that to the unblinking attendant with the heard-it-all expression made her realize how gullible she sounded. By the time she’d explained it to the detective twice, she had felt like a complete dupe.
Even now she had difficulty believing Sean had gone to so much trouble to make her feel loved and special only to dump her alone at the airport, while he went off to — what? Laugh at her on some Hawaiian beach?
He didn’t have access to her money. Not that she had much of it. The wedding shop she worked for didn’t pay her that well to manage it. Sean had encouraged her to consider opening her own shop. You’re a natural at this, Emily Pepperell. You know how to make every bride feel like Cinderella and every groom feel like superman. Why don’t you open your own place? You could call it Miss Pepperell’s Perfect Weddings.
8
She had laughed at the name but his encouragement had warmed her heart. She’d been orphaned at eighteen and it had been a very long time since anyone had believed in her as much as Sean had.
Emily watched Aggie darting in and out of the tables with her tray. She was deft, experienced. No doubt she’d heard and seen it all, too. But she had known Sean when he was young, before he’d had a chance to paint over the true Sean with the blinding charm that had led Emily to her downfall. Maybe Aggie could help her understand his motivations?
In the end, Emily chickened out of talking to Aggie. What if Aggie had been Sean’s first love? His real love.
He’d always talked about Mudge and Aggie together, with affection. She’d never asked if Aggie had been his girlfriend. He’d said that they should only focus on what was ahead for them, not what was behind, when she’d asked about his past relationships.
Maybe that had been one more warning sign. But truthfully, she hadn’t wanted to know. It hadn’t seemed to matter. Sean was marrying her. Whatever Aggie had been to him, however fondly he had spoken of her, he hadn’t married her. He hadn’t even seen her in years.
She wasn’t ready to go back to Blythe Cove Manor so she wandered. In and out of tourist trap shops. Off and onto the gritty, shifting sand of the beach. In and among the happy families, the young couples holding hands, the white-haired couples who looked as though they had been married for a long, long time.
She dug through her purse for her cell phone to take a picture of all of this, so that o
nce she’d gone home, she’d be able to prove she’d really been here. Had been so close to her own happily ever after.
She flinched inwardly at the phrase. The last thing she’d ever wanted was to marry the wrong man. She’d been so careful. She’d been so sure when she said yes to Sean, So sure that she would be the one holding his hand when his hair — and hers — had gone white.
She activated the cell phone and froze at the sight of her screensaver — the engagement picture she and Sean had taken on Spirit Lake.
The first time she’d met him had been when he’d come to the shop to let her know he had a boat if any of her wedding couples fancied a wedding on Spirit Lake. She’d like him, but she’d been skeptical when she toured the boat. It was about as run down as a boat could get and still be called a boat.
I can fix anything, Miss Pepperell. That’s my secret magic. Give me something broken, and I’ll fix it better than new. He’d been true to his word and her wedding couple had been thrilled. Sean had asked her out then and the rest had been history. Whirlwind history. She’d barely hesitated to say yes when he asked, even though she hadn’t known him for the three years she considered to be a sensible time before getting engaged.
He’d offered his boat so she could have her dream engagement picture taken outdoors, on the Lake. She’d been honored. She’d watched as he’d taken the beat up old thing that couldn’t be put into the Lake for fear of sinking and turned it into to a beautiful, gleaming sailing vessel that enthralled the tourists on the Lake. She’d been so sure that day. So absolutely, positively sure that any man with the magic and patience to fix that broken old boat was the one she would be happy with forever.
But she’d been wrong. And that was why she was here, she realized belatedly. She wanted to find out some fact, some reason, that would show her her judgment hadn’t been that far off.
Emily shook her head, squashing down the foolish hope. If wishes were horses, she’d have more manure than she knew what to do with. There was no point hoping she hadn’t made the most devastating choice of her life when she said yes to Sean’s marriage proposal. The cold truth was that she had. She would find out nothing here to comfort her. But she might find out something to make sure she never made such a huge mistake again.
She had twenty unread messages. Her best friend and co-worker Teri had left ten of them. The rest were from an unknown number. She listened to Teri’s last message. “Emily, call me. I’m frantic. I need to hear your voice.”
Before the message had finished, she cut it off. She realized she’d decided, then. To go home. To go back to work. To pick up where she’d left off as if Sean had never been. It was a step in the right direction. She could help other couples be happy, even if she couldn’t help herself. Sean had been wrong. She wasn’t built for happiness. She was just a cog in other people’s wheel of happiness.
Emily raised the phone and took a photo of one of the happy families on the beach and texted it to Teri with the simple message. “Don’t worry. I’m booked on the Honeymoon with a Ghost special package and having a blast. See you next week.”
She should call. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay in the bubble of Sean’s past until she understood the man behind all the lies.
Teri would make her explain what she thought she would accomplish. And then Teri, ever practical, would point out that finding out about teen Sean would not change a thing that had happened, or make the future turn out the way Emily had thought it would.
Emily knew that. She didn’t need Teri to tell her. But, just for this week she wanted to forget it. To act like finding out the truth would fix everything. The place is magic, Emily. You’ll see. Blythe Cove Manor will make a believer out of you.
She turned off the phone and tucked it deep in her purse. Time for what was ahead of her later. Now she was focused on the past.
9
At last, she aimed her steps back toward Blythe Cove Manor. She hadn’t been interested in the idea of sherry or tea, but the evening get-together would be the perfect time to quiz Blythe about the owner of the Dawn Promise. And maybe see if she knew anything about Aggie.
Though Martha’s Vineyard was a bustling place full of tourists during the year, there were a few months where it was just the natives. It was very possible that, if Blythe were a long-time native, she would know Aggie, Mudge, and — maybe — she would have known Sean, too.
Emily went to her room and freshened up, knowing she would need to be very strong to be able to remain in the room with the young honeymooners, should they happen to show up for sherry and tea. She wondered if they’d mentioned her arrival to the others, a honeymooner without a husband. She hoped they’d had better things to do than talk about her, but she’d find out soon enough.
She peered at herself in the mirror, nodding to see she didn’t look drawn, or tired. She looked like a woman who had it all together, not a tragic figure. She wanted to keep it that way.
Would she and Sean have had sherry with the other B&B visitors, if things had been different? He hadn’t said anything about sherry night, so she guessed his idea of an evening tradition would have been a sail, or sitting on the shoreline, watching the stars come out as darkness fell.
Her heart hurt when she thought about it. From the second he walked up to her in the shop, where she had been making a latte for a customer, and asked her opinion on whether or not the Kenyan or the Hawaiian coffee made the best latte, Sean had seemed so real that she had never once questioned the things he told her.
But he had been a ghost all the time she knew him. Even more of a ghost now that she was here, in the place where he grew up, on the cusp of talking to people who had known him before all the lies had begun. She wanted to protect her own truth, that she had been utterly swept off her feet by him, never suspecting a single lie until the moment he left her at the airport to discover them all at once. It was hard to embrace how big a fool she had been, never mind admit it to strangers.
She heard them, the honeymooners, before she turned the corner and faced the room full of B&B guests.
Blythe greeted her with a warm smile. “Did you enjoy your first view of the ocean? And your first Sandpiper fish sandwich? They’re my favorite indulgence, but I limit myself to one a month.” She patted her trim waistline.
“The sea certainly lived up to its hype, as did the sandwich.” Emily wasn’t sure she enjoyed knowing that the proprietress kept such a close eye on her guest’s doings. She hoped her smile didn’t show that, though.
“So, the momentous question,” Blythe paused, “Sherry or tea?”
“Sherry I think,” Emily said, surprising herself. Her normal drink of choice was a glass of good cabernet.
A trim older woman with the look of an outdoors lover said, “Another one for the sherry side, good for you. We sherry folks are sitting on this side of the room.” She pointed to herself and the older couple.
Emily laughed and joined them. Not because they were drinking sherry, but because it was the farthest she could get from the happy newlyweds.
The tea drinkers were four — the newlyweds, Annie and Jason, and two young men who had the windburned look of men who loved to sail. This was a new look to Emily. There had been a different kind of weathered man look in Iowa — farmer-weathered, not sea-weathered, but she had seen plenty of these men on her walk around town, the older men’s skin showing the leathering effects the younger ones’ hadn’t quite achieved but would as they aged. Men of the sea.
They reminded her, faintly, of the men who loved to sail and boat Spirit Lake. But those men sailed and boated on weekends and vacations, not for a living. Those men could see from one side of Spirit Lake to another, and never had to worry about being dragged out to sea on a wayward current and never seeing land again. Although Sean had said you’d have to be a really bad sailor to have that happen to you.
Sherry was a quaint old tradition, Emily thought. Perhaps one that needed to be revived.
Or not, she thought a
s she caught sight of Forrey Akerman coming through the gorgeous old doorway and standing in grease-stained clothing on Blythe’s expensive antique carpet.
Had he followed her? No, that was absurd. So why was he here?
Blythe saw him and smiled. “Just in time. I was telling everyone about the free sail they’ll get on the Dawn Promise tomorrow.”
10
Free? Emily’s head spun as she listened to Blythe explain that, in exchange for Blythe letting the two young men who crewed The Dawn Promise stay above the converted barn, Forrey had agreed to helm his sailboat for Blythe Cove Manor visitors every Tuesday, his slow day.
Feeling like fate had finally thrown her a bone at last, Emily hurried to put her name on the list. No, it wasn’t ideal that she would have to share the boat with others. But surely she’d find a way to get out on his sailboat alone with him later in the week if she could prove she loved sailing.
“I see you found your five friends,” he said, from behind her.
She turned around. “Turns out I didn’t even have to try.” She gave him the wide innocent eyes of someone who knew she was irritating another person but had decided to pretend she didn’t.
“How long have you been sailing?” She didn’t know how long she’d have to ask questions tonight before the others chimed in with theirs, so she started with an easy one. Get it out of the way, and move on to the harder ones later, when he was on a boat and couldn’t escape her. He didn’t seem like the type to abandon ship.
“My whole life.”
Summer Magic Page 13