After a while, feeling more relaxed than she had in days, Annie opened her eyes, gazed out toward the ocean for a time, and then finally she picked up the yarn. Making the sampler afghan was such a lovely and simple project that she relaxed even more as she worked.
As she crocheted, plans for the party began to sort themselves into compartments in her brain. The menu presented no problem. Burgers, potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw. Iced tea and lemonade for drinks. She nixed the idea of games because she thought there would be no need for them. An outdoor event was much less structured and stiff than a formal indoor party, so she foresaw no awkward beginnings. In a little while she would call Jenny Simon to see if the Nocturnal Loons band could play for the party.
She wanted to invite as many people as possible. The guest list presented a problem only in that there really was not time to send invitations.
Decorations or not? she asked herself.
Annie gazed around her surroundings, studied the sweeping vista of the sea, the well-groomed lawn, and the flower beds.
“No decorations,” she said aloud. “Nature provides all that we’ll need.”
There would be ample room to accommodate all of her guests, of course, but perhaps seating would present a problem. Ian had said he could bring some extra lawn chairs. In Texas, when she and Wayne would throw a barbecue, people brought lawn chairs. She saw no reason why her guests at a Texas cookout in Maine couldn’t do the same.
If I’m going to throw a party next weekend, I’d better get busy inviting people, she thought. She had made significant progress on the sampler blocks while plans fell into place, but now she reluctantly stowed away the yarn and hook.
She went inside to put away the tote bag and get the phone book, a pen and paper, and a glass of tea. When she returned to the porch, she settled down in the chair once more, and wrote down names as fast as they came to her mind. She knew there would be more as time went on, and Alice would be bringing her a list too.
Annie picked up the telephone to dial the first name on her list. It was then she noticed that there was a missed call from that very morning while she had been at Papa Dexter’s place. Her heart skipped a bit as she recognized the now familiar number and the location. But once again, Grady Brooks had not left a message.
Why on earth was he calling when he refused to leave any message? Forget the scenarios that Alice had offered for Annie’s consideration. The situation was beginning to go from odd to uncomfortably weird, if not downright creepy, and Annie had reached her limit.
“Enough of this,” she muttered. “I’ll call him and find out what this is all about.”
But some things had to have top priority. She would make the party-invitation calls first. Annie shoved all thoughts and feelings about Grady Brooks completely from her mind for the time being.
She did not need to consult the phone book for the first name on her list. She punched in the number to A Stitch in Time. Mary Beth answered on the second ring.
“How are you, Annie?” Mary Beth asked after they exchanged greetings. “What have you found out about the music box?”
“I found out the maker of the box was a man named Malcolm Tyler. Apparently it’s a rare and valuable antique.”
“Good for you!” Mary Beth said. “I was sure it must be. It’s just so beautiful and unique. Tell us all about it Tuesday at the meeting. You know all the ladies will want to hear about it.”
“I surely will. Plus, I found out more than just the fact that it’s valuable. I have a lot to share with everyone, but I’m still chasing a mystery.”
“Oh? There’s more?” She could almost hear Mary Beth’s curiosity crackle through the phone line. “Anything you care to share a little early?”
Annie laughed. “I think I’ll save it for Tuesday when I have a bit more information,” she said. “I won’t keep you on the telephone long, Mary Beth, because I know you’re busy. But I did want to issue an invitation to a down-home Texas-style cookout at Grey Gables a week from Saturday.”
“Annie! That sounds like such fun!”
Annie hesitated, then chose her words carefully as she added, “It’s a combination barbecue/Divine Décor/Princessa jewelry/bake sale.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Mary Beth laughed.
“Good grief! What in the world has made you decide to do something like that? And, Annie, I have to tell you,” she lowered her voice, “I’ve bought all the jewelry and home decor that I need right now. I mean, I love Alice dearly, you know that, but I have attended so many of her home parties. …”
“I understand, Mary Beth, but when is the last time you went to one?” Annie asked.
“Well, let me think.” There was another brief pause, and then she said, “It was last summer, I believe. Yes, that was the last one, because I bought a door wreath of freesia and silk daisies, and I got it at a really good price because it was an end-of-season close-out.”
“And the jewelry?”
“Oh, goodness. I believe it was before Christmas when I bought my niece a matching set of earrings and necklace.”
“I see.” Annie wondered if other members of the Hook and Needle Club had stopped attending Alice’s parties too.
“Why do you want to know this, Annie? And what’s with this bake-sale idea? What’s the purpose?”
“Alice is going to make some of her famous baked goods for sale—”
“But I really don’t … well, Annie, isn’t this rather … peculiar? I mean, you’re throwing a cookout, but it sounds to me more like it’s a fundraiser for Alice MacFarlane.”
Annie bit her lip. She did not want the party to be seen or thought of as a charity drive.
“Please, Mary Beth, don’t say that to anyone else, especially to Alice.”
“Annie?” Mary Beth’s voice was so quiet Annie could barely hear her. “Is Alice having problems?”
“Oh, dear,” Annie murmured, completely at a loss for words. She was not handling this situation with the delicacy and discretion she had intended.
“She is, isn’t she? Why hasn’t she let anyone know? Well, she wouldn’t, would she? Always putting on a cheerful face! Oh, this is terrible! Poor Alice.”
“Mary Beth, please understand. I did not mean to make this seem like a fundraiser. It’s just that she needs … well, her business has fallen off, and I’m just trying to help her get it started again. If you and the other Hook and Needle Club members could join in it would be great. But we must not let Alice believe for one minute that this is anything more than a boost for her business.”
Once more, Mary Beth did not speak for a short space of time. Finally she cleared her throat and said, “I totally agree, Annie. The last thing I’d ever want to do would be to embarrass her. And I hate it that she’s struggling. You can count on me to be at the cookout. In fact, I want to help. What can I bring?”
“You want to bring food?”
“Absolutely.”
First Ian offering to bring the hamburgers and Mary Beth asking what she could contribute—Annie almost felt like she was back home where no one went to any party or dinner without toting an offering of some kind.
“How about you provide the lemonade? We’re going to need gallons of it. And I mean gallons, because I’m inviting everyone I know.”
“I’ll bring it! How about if I bring chips too? Chips always go well at a barbecue, no matter what else you serve.”
“That would be terrific, Mary Beth. Thank you!” Annie smiled as a small weight lifted from her shoulders with one less thing to do.
“Would you like to talk to Kate about the party? We don’t have any customers in the store right this minute.”
“I would. Thanks!”
As the afternoon wore on, faded, and gave over to twilight, Annie had called almost everyone she knew in Stony Point. Many of the people she called were at work, and she had to leave messages on voice mail or answering machines. Kate had recommended sending invitations on Facebook, but Annie
had yet to set up an account on any social networking site.
“You’re going to have to enter this new age, Annie,” Kate had said in a teasing voice. “At least that’s what Vanessa keeps telling me.”
“I will someday,” Annie had promised. “Right now, I have enough to do face-to-face.”
Both women had laughed, but Annie wondered if she really was missing something. Maybe she should get someone to help her get started at some point. Kate’s daughter, Vanessa, would be the right person to ask.
That night, Annie sat in her pajamas with a DVD in the machine, the remote control on the table beside her favorite chair and her sampler afghan project within arm’s reach. The phone rang frequently with people returning her call or responding to invitations. Nearly everyone wanted to bring food, and Annie agreed. Her Texas cookout was turning into a barbecue potluck, and she figured nothing could be more fun than that.
She had her mouth half-full of grilled cheese sandwich when the telephone rang. She tapped the pause button to freeze Bringing Up Baby, the old Cary Grant movie she was watching, and picked up the phone. She glanced at the caller ID.
Caller unknown.
10
Annie swallowed her food half-chewed and felt it go down in a thick, painful lump. She pushed the talk button. “Hello?” she croaked, hoping the caller could understand her.
“Annie Spencer?”
She recognized that velvety baritone voice immediately.
“I used to be. It’s Annie Dawson now. Is this Grady?”
A momentary silence, as if she had surprised him by knowing his identity.
“Yes, this is Grady Brooks. Do you remember me? I used to live next door to your Aunt Susan.”
“Of course, I remember you,” she managed to squeak. “Would you please hold on for just a moment?”
Before he had time to reply, she flung down the phone and fled to the kitchen where she gulped down enough water to sink a ship. At least it flushed down the sandwich, crumbs and all, from her throat and gave her a moment to compose herself.
Back in the living room, she sat down primly in the chair, brushed any stray toast crumbs from her pajamas, cleared her throat twice, and then picked up the telephone and said, “Forgive me, Grady. I had a small emergency.”
“Oh? I hope I haven’t called at a bad time.
“It’s fine now,” she said, still gasping a bit, but more from nerves than toast crumbs. “It’s good to hear from you, Grady.”
“It has been a long time, Annie.”
His voice—deeper, more mature—still had the power to take her back to those languid summer days of her fourteenth year. Odd how that little shiver still ran up and down her backbone. This can’t be right, she scolded herself. You’re not fourteen anymore.
“Hey, you remember that night you heard the kitten under your aunt’s front porch?”
She recalled it, immediately, and laughed softly at the vision of yellow and white fluff they had found.
“I haven’t thought about that in years and years,” she told him. “Peaches, that’s what we named her, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Do you know that cat lived more than twenty years? She made a great companion for my mother.”
“Twenty years? That’s a long time.”
“Yes, and she was spoiled every minute of it. Sometimes I think Mom fed her better than she fed Dad.” He laughed.
She looked at Boots and wondered how old Gram’s cat was and if she’d live to a ripe old age. But why were they talking about cats when they hadn’t seen each other in more than thirty years?
Apparently Grady was thinking along the same lines. He said, “Annie, I’ve dialed your number a dozen times in the last few days.”
“I know. But Grady, why haven’t you waited long enough for me to answer, or left me a message? It’s been a little … well, a little frightening, to be perfectly honest.”
A small pause.
“Frightening? I’m so sorry, Annie. Frightening you was not my intention, believe me.” He let out a deep breath. “You’ll never know how much courage it took me just to pick up the phone and dial your number. That first time, I was almost glad you didn’t answer. And then when I dialed again, I was afraid you would answer, and I lost my nerve, so I hung up. And the other times … well, I’ve never been very good at leaving messages on machines. I seem to say nothing but a lot of ‘uhs’ and ‘ers’ and ‘hmms.’”
“But calling and hanging up numerous times probably wasn’t the best. I almost thought I had a stalker.” She immediately regretted the accusatory words. “I’m sorry, Grady,” she said. “That sounded a little harsh, didn’t it? Please forgive me. I’ve been on edge lately. Let’s just say next time you call, please leave a message if I don’t answer. Will you?”
“I surely will, Annie. My deepest apologies for causing you any discomfort, because that was not what I meant to do at all.” He paused for a moment. “Am I forgiven? At least for old times’ sake?”
The apology touched her.
“Of course you are,” she said warmly. “Grady, it’s so good to hear from you again. From the caller ID, I see you live in Arkansas now?”
“Yes. In the Ozark Mountains, in a little town called Cooper City. I’m the mayor here.”
“Oh, are you?” Annie said. “Do you enjoy that?”
“Actually, yes I do. Our town is quite small, so it’s a very relaxed administration I head.
“That’s great. It sounds like a wonderful job. The mayor here in Stony Point is a good friend. He certainly seems to enjoy his work.” She abruptly broke off, feeling a little peculiar to mention Ian to this man.
“Maybe I can meet him,” Grady said with enthusiasm.
That seemed to Annie to be an extremely peculiar statement. Perhaps she misheard him.
“I beg your pardon?”
He laughed lightly. “I guess I should have told you that I’m in Portland.”
“Maine or Oregon?”
He laughed harder.
“Oh, Annie. You’re still a delight. Maine, of course. I just flew in a couple of hours ago. I’ll be here a few days, and I’d like to come to Stony Point to see you before I go home, if that’s OK.”
She took in this information, tried to process it, but wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing him. It was one thing to talk with the man on the telephone, but to see him face-to-face? Would he take one look at her and remember all those silly, doe-eyed gazes she’d given him? Would he remember the time she’d leaned into him, eyes closed, lips ready, thinking she was about to receive her first kiss when all he’d done was brush a ladybug from her hair? Even after all these years, her face burned at the memory.
“Of course, if you’d rather not, I understand,” he said after her silence went on too long.
She mentally shook herself. She was a middle-aged grandmother, for goodness sake, not a blushing, silly teenager!
“It would be wonderful to see you again, Grady! My goodness, it’s been so long. When are you coming?”
“Would this Saturday be all right?”
“This Saturday?”
“Yes. Unless it’s inconvenient.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she said. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, Saturday is fine, and no, it’s not inconvenient.” Her face burned even hotter. She might be a grandmother, but she was still a dithering child at the moment. She took a deep breath and got hold of herself.
“Why don’t you plan to come for dinner, Grady?”
There was a small silence from his end, and then he said, “Actually, Annie, I was hoping we could spend more than just a couple of hours together. What would you say to a picnic instead of dinner? You could show me the sights in your neck of the woods, and maybe we could just spend the day together. Unless you’d rather not.”
Annie’s mind whirled.
“A picnic sounds like fun,” she said finally, “but I’m having a huge party next weekend, and I really must get things ready for that.”
Ag
ain there was a silence that spoke volumes, and it gave Annie time to reassess her projects and her time. She planned to have a couple of women who owned a small house-cleaning business in town come to clean Grey Gables on Thursday, and since nearly everyone she’d invited had insisted on bringing food, the work she’d have to do on that end was cut back considerably. She told herself she had the party as well organized as she could get it. She knew she was just making excuses so she could find some pretext to hide behind. She knew she was being foolish, and was probably hurting Grady’s feelings in the bargain.
“Actually,” she said, “now that I rethink it, I believe it’s all under control at this point. I see no reason why I can’t spend this Saturday with an old friend, catching up.”
“That’s terrific, Annie!” he said. She heard the smile in his voice. “Tell me how to get to your house and what time you want me there, and I won’t be late.”
She gave him directions, and they settled on him arriving around ten o’clock Saturday morning. After chatting a bit longer, they said goodbye and hung up.
Annie leaned her head back and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She was so tired, almost too tired to go to bed, but once again her mind was almost full of more details than she could sort. She offered a little prayer for guidance and peace. She lifted her head, picked up the remote control and resumed watching Cary Grant spar on the screen with Katharine Hepburn. She woke up later and went upstairs to bed, not even remembering if she watched the end of the movie.
The next morning, Alice came over with her own guest list. She and Annie sat at the kitchen table, drinking a pot of tea and nibbling fresh molasses cookies.
“Alice, I can’t believe you aren’t as big as a house the way you bake these luscious goodies all the time. These cookies make me think of Gram.”
“They should,” Alice said with a smile. “It’s her recipe. And I keep busy, so I guess I work off those calories. Though I think I’d better start being more diligent about how many treats I eat.” She patted her slim waistline.
The Unfinished Sonata Page 8