Jazzed

by Donna Kelly

  She tore off a bite of bread, placed a slice of cheese on it and popped the morsel into her mouth. Taking a sip of juice, she continued reading.

  How appropriate! The land where the Empire State Building now sat was first developed as a farm by a man named John Thompson in the late 1700s. Annie ran her finger along the sentences underlined in ink. Grandpa must have noticed this connection between the building’s history and his own. Who would have thought a piece of New York City had been farmland at one time?

  The Big Apple came alive to her as she read about the Statue of Liberty, the robed, torch-bearing symbol of freedom keeping vigilant watch in the harbor, and the Brooklyn Bridge, an artery carrying people in and out of the city for decades.

  The phone’s ring pierced the silence. Wiping her hands on a napkin, she felt an odd mixture of joy and apprehension when she saw the number on the display screen. “Hello, Ian. How are you?”

  “Annie! I hope you’re staying dry on this rainy day.”

  “Dry as a bone. I’ve spent the day traipsing down memory lane after finding all sorts of family treasures—well, except for the one I was actually looking for.” Annie braced the phone between her ear and shoulder, and carried her empty plate and glass to the sink.

  “Oh, so did you find another mystery?”

  Annie laughed. “No mysteries. But I did find the dress-up clothes Alice and I played with as kids, a stash of Grandpa’s old jazz albums, and photos of him taken in New York City.”

  “Now, I’d like to see a photo of you and Alice in those dress-up clothes,” Ian said with a chuckle.

  “Oh, we were quite glamorous.”

  “I imagine so.”

  Annie could tell he was amused. “So far I’ve not found any photos of the glamorous Grey Gables Girls, but you’ll be first to see them—after Alice, of course—if I do.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. Say, Annie, a bakery looking to expand into Stony Point sent over a basket of delicious-looking goodies today. I thought perhaps I’d bring them over tomorrow morning, and we could have breakfast together. Are you free?”

  Annie hesitated a few seconds. She was unsure of her growing feelings for Ian and wondered if seeing him was a good idea. But he made her laugh, and their time together always passed so quickly. “I don’t know; I might put you to work in the attic. I still need to find rummage items for the benefit auction, you know. Still interested?”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. After all, your attic is a microcosm of Stony Point history, and you know how much I love our little town!”

  Annie struggled to keep her breathing even. “In that case, can you be here around eight thirty? Bring on the pastries!”

  5

  Annie’s heart quickened when she opened the door to a damp, windblown Ian standing on the front porch.

  “Good morning, Ian!” He was handsome, despite running from the car in the wind and rain, which had his thick but neatly trimmed gray hair sticking straight up in some places and lying flat in others. Was she imagining things or was that a sparkle in his eyes?

  “Good morning.” He reached up with one hand and brushed her hair back from her face. “It’s great to see you.”

  Ian stepped through the door, and Annie closed it behind him. He held out a brown cellophane-wrapped basket sporting a big yellow-and-green bow.

  “Compliments of Takes the Cake Bakery,” he said with a scintillating smile.

  Annie peeked inside the basket, finding a sinful-looking collection of muffins, biscotti, cookies, and what looked like slices of pound cake. “Oh, these look like they might possibly give Alice a run for her money in the baking department!”

  She led Ian to the kitchen, where the coffeemaker was just sputtering the last few drops of hazelnut java into the carafe. Two green-tinged pottery mugs and a small matching pitcher of half-and-half sat on the counter beside it.

  He inhaled deeply.

  “Mmm. That smells good! Is it hazelnut?”

  Annie nodded and set the basket of goodies on the kitchen table.

  Stepping to the counter, she poured the rich, dark brew into the mugs. “The name is ‘Happily Hazelnut.’ I found it in a quirky little coffee shop while Christmas shopping in Portland. I pull it out of the freezer for special occasions.”

  Ian grasped the cup she held out to him and looked into her eyes. “I’m honored to be considered special.”

  Annie felt her cheeks tingle and suspected they were turning a nice rosy hue.

  Coffee in one hand, Ian reached up with the other and gently cupped his hand around Annie’s cheek, stroking her jawbone with a feather touch of his thumb.

  Her heart thumped a wild beat, the pounding reaching to her ears. Annie held her breath. Gazing up at Ian’s face, she was suspended in time as he leaned closer, his eyelids closing as he lowered his lips to hers. Annie relaxed into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his touch with her own eyes closed, until reality slapped her. What was she doing, kissing another man? Wayne was the love of her life. She was being unfaithful!

  Breaking the kiss and stepping from Ian’s arms, Annie struggled to maintain composure. An odd mixture of joy and guilt washed over her.

  “You’re the heartbeat of Stony Point,” she said. “Of course you’re special.” Pulling her gaze from his eyes, she turned to the counter and picked up her own cup of coffee and struggled to sound calm. “Not to mention, you’re great at sharing. I can’t wait to dig into these treats!”

  Ian’s eyes flickered with disappointment, and Annie wondered if his insides were quaking as much as hers.

  They sat down at Gram’s antique oak table where Annie had placed a stick of butter and a brick of cream cheese on two cut-glass plates. Two place settings of silverware were resting on white napkins embroidered with daffodils, the flowers picking up the yellow hue from place mats and the kitchen walls.

  Ian removed the bow and peeled back the cellophane from the basket. “Which of these treats shall we try first? I believe this biscotti might be worthy of your Happily Hazelnut. What do you think?”

  Annie nodded and held her cup toward Ian. “Here’s to Takes the Cake Bakery, great coffee, and—”

  “To us!” Ian finished for her.

  They lightly touched their mugs together before taking their first sip of coffee.

  “Have you ever been to Takes the Cake?” Annie reached for one of the four slices of biscotti leaning along one side of the basket. “Isn’t it in Portland?”

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Ian said.

  “I remember peeking in a bakery window during our last trek to the Maine Historical Society. Alice, Kate, Gwen, and I came across it while looking for a place to have lunch.” Annie pointed at a row of mouthwatering cookies in the basket. “We nearly lost Alice to those decadent-looking chocolate, caramel, and coconut confections.”

  Ian grabbed a biscotti of his own. “It’s owned by two generations of the Laurent family, descended from a long line of bakers. They’re looking at opening a small bakery in Stony Point, offering cookies, pastries, and breads as well as a couple of lunch items per day.”

  “I wonder if the bakery would be competition for The Cup & Saucer?” Annie asked. “We had this old mom-and-pop diner in Brookfield with great food and lots of local history. Unfortunately, it went out of business when a national chain opened across the street. Would the new bakery be a franchise with a local owner?”

  Ian shook his head. “The young Laurent siblings would run the new place while their parents keep the original bakery. It would make a great addition to downtown. I think people in our surrounding towns who have visited the bakery in Portland would drive here for their pastries. The Laurent name is known all over Maine.”

  Annie dunked the dense, almond-flavored confection in her coffee. “It looked like a cute place. Knowing they might open a store in Stony Point, now I wish we had actually gone inside.” She took a bite of biscotti and moaned with delight. “Oh, this is fabulous!”

  I
an chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling. “With the frequency of trips you and your friends make to the historical society, I’m sure you will have a chance to visit the bakery before they open one here—if they open one here. Which reminds me, don’t you think it’s about time for another mystery to appear? It’s been awfully quiet around here.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Annie joked, wiggling her left index finger in a mock warning. “I like quiet. I’ve been able to catch my breath. Besides, the only mystery I need to solve is finding where in the world Gram stashed the negatives for the portraits in the library. I really want to have them redone.”

  “Annie, you don’t need the negatives in this day and age. If you can’t find them, just take the portraits to a digital photographer or graphic designer and have them scanned and enhanced,” Ian said. “It should be quick and relatively inexpensive.”

  “What? You mean take away the thrill of the search?” Annie smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t even think of having them scanned.”

  Ian reached into the basket and plucked out a jumbo muffin and broke it in half before spreading a thin layer of cream cheese over one side. “This one is cranberry and nearly as big as the ones my mother made when I was a kid.”

  Coffee cup to her lips, Annie peered over the rim and tried to read Ian’s expression. Had the kiss affected him too? He also had lost the love of his life suddenly; Arianna had succumbed to a brain aneurism. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but Annie knew that politicians are usually skilled at hiding their feelings. Did he feel unfaithful to Arianna?

  “I’m not sure if this is pound cake or dense bread, but it’s calling my name,” said Annie, setting her cup down and pulling a yellow, crumb-encrusted slice from the basket. “I will have consumed an entire day’s worth of carbs at the end of this meal!”

  “Have no fear,” Ian said, swiping the napkin across his lips. “You wear them well!”

  Ian’s cellphone rang from its holster on his belt. He checked the number calling. He looked at Annie with an apologetic look. “Excuse me, I have to take this. It’s Charlotte.”

  Annie nibbled on her pound cake and tried not to listen to Ian’s conversation with his longtime secretary, but she couldn’t help but overhear it.

  “Yes, I remember. He’s there already?” Ian glanced at his watch and was silent for a moment. “He’s an hour early, but I can be there in fifteen minutes. OK. See you soon. Thanks.”

  He returned his phone to the holster on his belt and quickly drained the coffee from his cup. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Jeff Andrews from the county economic development council is waiting in my office.”

  “I understand. Thank you for sharing your basket of goodies.” Annie stood up and retied the plastic wrap around the basket. “Why don’t you take the rest to the office so everyone can get a taste of what Takes the Cake has to offer? As much as I love sweets, I’ll never eat all of this!”

  Ian rose, collected their mugs and took them to the sink. “That’s a great idea, if you’re sure you won’t eat them.”

  Annie patted her stomach and grinned. “There’s no way I could—or should—polish off everything left in that basket. Spread the joy around your office.” She handed the basket to him and led the way to the living room.

  Standing at the front door, Annie put her hand on the doorknob and turned to face Ian. “This was a lovely way to start the day. Thank you.”

  He looked down and gazed into her eyes. Annie’s hand shook on the doorknob. Would he kiss her again? She struggled to control her breathing.

  “My pleasure. Definitely my pleasure.” Ian stepped closer, one arm around the basket while the other reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from Annie’s face. He dropped his lips to hers and lightly kissed her. “I’m sorry I have to leave.”

  Annie, eyes locked with Ian’s, absentmindedly opened the front door. “Me too.”

  She leaned on the open door and watched him take long strides down the path to the sleek black sedan waiting in the driveway. When the car disappeared from view, Annie closed the door. Leaning her back against it, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, letting it trickle out her nose as she fought to slow her heartbeat. She stood there in a daze until a purring Boots, who had been curled up sleeping on the living room sofa all morning, rubbed against her legs.

  Annie reached down and picked up the cat, cradling her in her arms. “Oh, Boots. Please tell me, am I wrong to have feelings for Ian?”

  The feline looked up, her green eyes mirroring those of her adopted owner. All Boots could do was mew.

  Annie stroked under Boots’s chin. “I’ll take that as a no. But why, then, do I feel so out of sorts?”

  Rain began to pound the roof, and the old house creaked as the wind whirled against it. Annie carried Boots to the bay window in the living room and watched the angry sea crash against the rocks. “I suppose a walk on the beach is just not in the forecast today.”

  She placed an antsy Boots on the sofa and plopped down beside her to try to make sense of the thoughts zooming around in her head. Ian had kissed her, a tender but intense kiss. It was glorious. And terrifying. How can something feel so right and so wrong at the same time? A vision of Wayne peering down from heaven and witnessing her kissing another man filled her with guilt. Closing her eyes, Annie did the only thing she knew to do: pray.

  First, Annie thanked God for sending Wayne to her and for the wonderful years they had spent together. “He blessed my life in so many ways, and I don’t want to let go of these memories,” she whispered, the words barely audible above the howling wind. “I am confused about my feelings for Ian. I feel joy and guilt at the same time.” Annie sat motionless with her eyes closed as the house shuddered against the wind, her thoughts whipping around in her head like tree branches in the storm. How could she hear God speak if she couldn’t quiet her mind?

  Taking slow, deep breaths, she recited the words from Proverbs that always brought comfort during times of confusion. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”

  She repeated the verse until her heartbeat calmed and her breathing became controlled. Her senses returning, Annie reached for the notepad and pen sitting on the coffee table. She switched on the lamp next to her and neatly wrote a to-do list: laundry, reply to emails from Texas, finish Ariel’s sweater, and remove portraits from frames.

  Moving through most of the day in a daze, Annie had checked off the first three items and had fixed and consumed a dinner of fish and grits by six o’clock. Because grits, a Southern staple, were hard to find in Maine, LeeAnn routinely mailed her a couple of boxes every few months. Annie washed, dried, and put away her dinner dishes. The to-do list, now hanging on the refrigerator amid colorful artwork by John and Joanna, reminded her of the last task: Remove portraits from frames.

  Annie entered the library and stared at the portraits. Since the negatives hadn’t turned up, perhaps Ian was right, and she should have the photographs digitally reproduced. But it just didn’t seem right to use modern technology to restore historical photos. In a sense, it somehow seemed like cheating. Would a computer be able to do justice to the portraits?

  Standing on her tiptoes, she grasped the bulky, ornate frame holding her grandparents’ photo and lifted it from the wall. Crossing the room to the desk, she drew a tissue from the nearby box and dusted the back of the frame, sending a small cloud into the air. Her nose tickled as she turned over the frame to remove the photos. A sneeze welled inside her, and she grabbed a clean tissue. How long had it been since the portraits had been taken down from the wall?

  Annie sat down and took a close look at the back of the frame. There was a rectangular pocket glued to the back. Holding the frame still with her left hand, she wriggled her right index finger into the narrow opening, wondering if she had found a letter or notes from her grandparents. Her finger pressed against a smooth plastic-like material. Sweeping the
contents from the pockets with her fingertip, several strips of processed film slid onto the back of the frame.

  Pulling the desk lamp closer, Annie turned the light to a higher setting and held a strip under the glow. She had found them!

  She discovered a real treasure—a glimpse into the life her grandparents had shared with her mother. Although the images on the black-and-white negatives were difficult to make out, she was pulled back in time by scenes of Grandpa fishing with a three- or four-year-old Judy, Gram sitting under a huge tree with what appeared to be her needlepoint, and apron-clad mother and daughter elbow-deep in a mixing bowl. Annie wished there were printed photos in the pocket so she could see the expressions on their faces. Her mind imagined happy, smiling countenances, and tears of joy spilled down her cheeks.

  She pulled two business-size envelopes from a desk drawer and put the negatives in one of them. Hoping to find a similar pouch behind the family portrait, she retrieved the second frame from the wall and returned to the desk to find another glimpse into the past. The two top strips of negatives showed her mother, clad in what looked like a sailor dress, in different portrait poses. Annie held the third sheet to the light, surprised to find a young woman with long hair standing behind a large microphone stand. Who is this? Gram couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, so it wasn’t her. The mystery singer filled each frame of the remaining three strips, but she couldn’t see the pictures well enough to figure out where the photos had been taken.

  Annie leaned back in the chair. Who in the world is she?

  6

  The final strains of the piano prelude were fading when Annie closed the large white door of Stony Point Community Church behind her and tiptoed into the last spot remaining in the back pew. As Reverend Wallace welcomed the congregation and recognized the morning’s visitors, Annie glanced around to see if anyone had noticed her late arrival. She was relieved to find everyone focused on the bespectacled, portly pastor, his gray hair matching the weather outside, as he recited announcements from an index card. The tardiness of one of the church’s most punctual members wasn’t nearly as interesting as the plight of the Polk family.