Liza and Claire found most of the stores they visited empty, which made it easy to fly through their list in nearly half the time. They carried everything to Liza’s SUV and headed back to Angel Island.
It had been fun to see the movie set but Liza was relieved to get back to the island, to the open vistas and serenity. No milling crowds or humming movie machinery. The island was a step beyond the movie madness, and she was sure it would stay that way.
With the tide low, she didn’t anticipate any problem crossing the long, thin land bridge that connected the mainland with the island. The road had been covered by water and was impassable several times over the summer, when heavy rains had combined with a high tide. It was one of the drawbacks of living on the island though, to her mind, there were so many wonderful aspects to living out there, she hardly noticed a washed-out road or two.
Liza reached the land bridge a short time later. The gate was up, signaling that it was safe to cross. The water on either side was dark blue, dotted with whitecaps. The sky was still hazy, promising more rain.
She steered her SUV onto the two-lane bridge, which had a rail and paved shoulder on each side, edged by large gray boulders. The road was newly paved but narrow, and she drove the black ribbon of highway carefully. From the middle of the bridge, she could see the coastline curving around to Cape Light’s harbor and the low mass of buildings on Main Street.
From time to time, building a real bridge to the island was proposed. When Liza had first returned to Angel Island, five months earlier, she would have been all for that idea. But now that she was an official year-round resident, she valued the island’s privacy and liked the idea that it was a bit challenging to reach.
The Inn at Angel Island was not far from the bridge, a short drive along one of the island’s two main roads, the one that followed the western coastline.
Suddenly on the right side of the road, the inn came into view. Liza stopped for a moment as she often did before pulling up the drive. She liked to try to see the inn as if for the first time, as a stranger might see it. This was difficult, if not impossible, considering she had known the place since she was a little girl, coming here to spend summers with her aunt and uncle.
She had always loved this house, three stories high with matching bay windows on the first and second floors. The windows on the second floor were fronted by a balcony and there was even a turret on the right side of the building. When Liza was a little girl and had heard the extravagant Victorian referred to as Queen Anne style, she had instantly known the term was perfect for the house. It was definitely a place worthy of royalty, something right out of a fairy tale.
Set on a large piece of property that sloped toward the road, the house faced the bluffs and the expanse of ocean that stretched out below. The wraparound porch was filled with sitting chairs—Adirondack, wicker, and straight-back rockers—where guests sat and enjoyed the view, sipping glasses of homemade lemonade and iced tea. Just as it had been in her aunt’s day.
Liza had made many repairs and improvements since she’d taken over the place last spring, but she tried hard to maintain the integrity of the place so that guests who had visited years ago would still feel comfortable and familiar with the place—the same, only better.
A walkway bordered by summer flowers led up to the porch. A sign swung from a post along the way: ANGEL INN—ALL ARE WELCOME. Her aunt Elizabeth had painted and hand-lettered that sign with a scroll of vines and flowers on the border. Liza had restored it herself to its former glory. Below that plaque hung another that now read, VACANCY.
There had been so much bad weather this past month. Liza tried to stay positive, believing the rooms would fill up again for the last few weeks of the summer season.
She turned up the drive and spotted Daniel Merritt’s pickup truck parked near the back door, then saw him up on a ladder, leaning against the inn. He was working on one of the window shutters that had come down during the last storm.
Was he supposed to be working here today? She would have remembered. Liza took a quick glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Large blue eyes peered back at her. She looked pale and sticky, her long dark hair an outrageous mess of curls. And she really needed some lipstick.
“Oh, Daniel’s here,” Claire said happily. “I wonder if he’s had any lunch.”
“As if that has ever stopped him from eating your cooking, Claire.”
“It has nothing to do with that. He has a healthy appetite. He works very hard,” Claire quickly defended him, though she did seem pleased by Liza’s compliment.
Daniel Merritt did work hard, and Liza was grateful to him. She had more or less inherited Daniel—a carpenter, painter, roofer, and all around fix-it man—with the property. She was sure that if not for his persistent care, the place would not be standing. She sometimes wondered if she would be herself, if not for his support and encouragement.
Liza was always happy to find Daniel here. She hadn’t expected to see him until Wednesday night. They had planned to go up to Newburyport for dinner and a movie. They were officially a couple now; at least that’s what everyone on the island said. Though their courtship had hit a few bumps along the way.
But Daniel’s life was still unsettled, and Liza tried not to look too far into the future or make too many demands. She simply loved being around him, which was enough for now. Even if he made surprise visits when she looked like a complete mess.
Claire waved up at Daniel and carried her purchases to the inn, going in through the front door.
Liza walked back to the ladder. “Hey, up there. Want some lunch?”
He came down a few steps and kissed her hello. “Sounds good. I’ll be done in a minute. Did you pick up the shutters at the hardware store?”
“I tried, but the store was closed.”
“In the middle of a Monday? That’s funny. I hope Frank isn’t sick or anything.”
“There was a note. It just said, ‘Be Back in Fifteen Minutes.’ We’re pretty sure where he went. There’s a movie crew in town filming at the harbor. Claire and I saw a huge crowd down there, mostly just waiting for something to happen. Or one of the movie stars to come out of a trailer.”
“A movie crew? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Daniel jumped down from the ladder and smoothed out his paint-spattered T-shirt. “I always wanted to be in a movie … you know, one of those guys you see walking in the background, looking very busy and in a rush to get somewhere?” He faked a serious expression and glanced at his watch.
With his tall, strong build, dark hair, and eyes to match, Daniel was just as attractive as any movie star Liza had ever seen. Including Nick Dempsey. She laughed and rested her hand on his broad shoulder. “I’m pretty sure they have enough candidates trying out to be one of ‘those guys.’ Besides, I think Claire is serving chowder for lunch today.”
Daniel grinned at the mention of one of his favorite dishes. “Hollywood will have to wait. I’ll have some lunch and think about it.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Liza slipped her arm through his, and they walked around the house to the brick patio that was covered by a lattice filled with thick wisteria.
Claire had already put out three place settings on a blue-and-white-checkered cloth. There were tall glasses of iced tea and a basket of warm cornbread squares, covered by a cloth napkin. Liza went into the kitchen to see if Claire needed any help and Daniel followed, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
Together they carried out the rest of the lunch: a bowl of salad made with fresh lettuce and tomatoes from Claire’s garden, and half a peach and blueberry crumble left over from the weekend. Last but not least, Claire carried out the chowder pot and ladle.
As she filled the three bowls with the hot, fragrant soup, Daniel snapped open his napkin with a flourish. “You’re right, Liza. The lure of fame and fortune pales in comparison to Claire’s cooking. What was I thinking?”
Liza laughed. “I was never really worried.”
Claire bowed her head a moment, offering silent thanks for her meal, and Liza and Daniel did the same. When Claire lifted her head she was smiling. “Start everyone. I know it’s warm outside, but the soup will still cool down and taste pasty if you let it sit too long.”
As they started on their chowder, Daniel said, “So you never said who was starring in this movie. Anyone famous?”
“Oh, yes.” Liza quickly swallowed. “Very famous. Charlotte Miller and Nick Dempsey.”
Daniel’s expression looked blank for a moment. Liza could tell he didn’t know who she was talking about. “You know, she was in that comedy about the two sisters and one of them becomes a female pirate? And the one about the secretary who becomes a country-western singer? She’s been on all the magazine covers the last few months. Haven’t you been in a supermarket lately?”
“Oh … right. I know who you mean.” He smiled and nodded and started eating again. “She’s pretty,” he added.
“Yes, she is,” Liza agreed. No question about that.
He met her eye and smiled. “Come to think of it, I’m lucky you didn’t hang around there that long. Some producer would be signing you up to be an extra, too.”
Liza rolled her eyes at his heavy-handed compliment, but appreciated it nonetheless. “Thanks, but I like my job. Maybe I’ll go to Hollywood if the inn doesn’t work out.”
Daniel laughed. “I know who Nick Dempsey is. I’m not that far out of the loop. He’s been in some suspense movies, playing police detectives or CIA agents. Those two truly are movie stars. I wonder how long they’ll be around. This could bring a lot of publicity to Cape Light.”
“Charlie Bates thinks so. He wants to persuade the producer to film a scene in the Clam Box. I guess he plans to be in the background, flipping burgers and shouting out orders.”
“That sounds about right.” Daniel laughed. “I hope he doesn’t give the cast and crew heartburn with his hometown cuisine.”
“Or worse,” Claire chimed in with a serious expression. She suddenly stopped herself from saying more. She rarely said a negative word about anyone. Liza could see that she regretted even that small comment. “Just seems a shame that the Hollywood people might get the impression that the Clam Box is the only type of food we have to offer here. There’s definitely more to New England cooking than fried clams and Charlie’s pasty chowder.”
“That would be a shame,” Daniel agreed. He helped himself to another chunk of cornbread and slathered on a pat of melted butter. It just wasn’t fair; he ate whatever he wanted. Liza didn’t know where he put it. Wherever it landed, though, it looked just right on him.
Liza cleared away the soup bowls and chowder pot and brought them inside while Claire started to dish out their dessert. Behind the sound of the running water in the sink, Liza suddenly noticed someone knocking on the screen door at the front of the house.
She shut off the water, quickly dried her hands, and ran to answer it, trying to smooth out her hair with one hand as she ran.
As she drew closer, she saw a man and woman standing on the porch. The woman, who looked to be in her early thirties, nearly had her face pressed to the screen, trying to get a look inside.
Had her wish for an overflow of the town’s tourists come true? Liza sure hoped so. With her brightest innkeeper smile in place, she sallied forth to answer the door.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she greeted the couple. “I was back in the kitchen. I didn’t hear you knock.” She opened the door and welcomed them inside. “Are you looking for accommodations?”
“In a way, I guess you could say that,” the woman replied.
Liza noticed she was carrying a large black notebook that looked very businesslike. The man, who seemed younger, had a 35mm digital camera slung around his neck. Two cameras actually, Liza realized. He was looking around, his head craning in all directions, from the molding to the floors and back again.
Professional, she guessed. Her brother was a photographer, and she could spot one a mile away.
“My name is Judy Kramer,” the woman said, digging around in her big black nylon tote. “This is my assistant, Zach Engle.”
Liza smiled and extended her hand. “Liza Martin. I run the inn.”
“I guessed as much,” Judy replied. “It’s a lovely place. We were on the island a while back and passed by. It caught my eye, but we didn’t have time to come in.”
Liza nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what this was all adding up to. She could tell they were not a vacationing couple, as she had first assumed. But she couldn’t guess what they wanted and just hoped they weren’t here to try to sell her something.
“You’ve probably noticed that there’s a movie filming in town. I work for the production company, booking accommodations and catering, that sort of thing.” The woman finally pulled out a business card and handed it to Liza.
Liza read it quickly. Judy Kramer, Production Associate. Winding Hill Films.
“We’re going to film some scenes on the island over the next week or two. I wondered if we could speak to you about reserving the inn for the use of the cast and crew. We would probably need most of the space,” she added, looking around. “That might be a problem. I mean, if you have a high occupancy now.”
Liza stared at her and blinked. She felt like she might be going into shock. Get a grip, she scolded herself. You just hit the jackpot. Say something smart or this woman is going to think you’re a total flake. “I think we can accommodate your group. It’s not a problem at all. We have plenty of rooms available … Why don’t we go into the parlor and discuss it?” Liza quickly turned to lead the way, using the break to take a few deep breaths and compose herself.
“Would you like some coffee or tea? A cold drink, maybe?” she offered. “There’s some wonderful peach and blueberry crumble on hand. Homemade,” she added.
Judy smiled politely but didn’t look tempted. Zach seemed more interested, though. “My grandmother used to make crumble. That’s the one with crumbs on top, without any crust, right?”
“That’s the one.” Liza nodded. “We do all the cooking and baking right here. All the ingredients are fresh, most of them locally grown. Many of the vegetables come out of our own garden.”
As if on cue, Claire appeared. “Hello everyone,” she said cordially.
“This is Claire North. She’s our cook and housekeeper and … everything in between,” Liza said. “Claire, would you bring some crumble for Judy and Zach? And some iced tea? They’re with the film company that’s in town. They want to talk about lodging the movie crew here.”
“That would be very nice,” Claire said in her usual even tone. “I’ll be right back with that crumble and maybe some ice cream alongside. It goes perfectly.”
Claire quickly headed back to the kitchen, and Liza took a notepad and pen from her small writing desk. “So, tell me what you need and I’ll tell you what we can do.”
“I like your spirit, Liza,” Judy said, “but I think it’s only fair to warn you, this is a big group that includes some prima donnas. It will be challenging.”
“We can handle it. No worries,” Liza replied, sounding far calmer than she actually felt.
Judy sat back, looking reassured. “Let me start at the beginning. When we came to the island the first time, we were scouting for outdoor scenes. We found the beach below this property. It’s perfect. We’ll definitely shoot down there.”
“Really? That’s exciting,” Liza said, feeling the same goose bumps she had felt earlier that day, seeing all the cameras set up on the village dock. It was silly she knew, but she couldn’t help it.
“We’ve heard that the road between the mainland and the island washes out pretty often. So we thought it would be more efficient if we housed the crew and some of the cast out here. Right now the crew is in a motel just outside of town. But it will cost tons of money if they can’t get over to the island to work when we need them here.”
“I see your problem. There has been
a lot of rain this summer. How many rooms do you need?”
Judy told her the number. “Some of the guys can bunk together. They’re used to that.”
“I think we can accommodate that number of guests. No problem.”
They would have a full house, packed to the rafters. But Liza was thrilled. She hadn’t had that many people staying at one time since June, when the inn had hosted a wedding, and that was just for a long weekend.
“The big stars and the executive team will be staying in Newburyport. So we don’t have to worry about them,” Judy added.
Liza had been worried about entertaining the big stars and was honestly relieved to hear that they were taken care of. There were several far fancier hotels in the nearby town, some with spas and all the amenities. She could even guess where the stars might be staying.
“We sometimes have long breaks between shooting, especially outdoor scenes. The light and the weather … who knows what. Normally, the actors rest in their trailers, but it’s hard to bring the trailers out here. There’s no place to hook them up and other complications. So we will need rooms for the stars just for pit stops. Nice rooms,” Judy added, smiling a little too widely.
Liza guessed she was wondering if the rooms would be up to her standards. Liza was wondering the same thing. She had only taken over the inn in March, after her aunt died, but she had renovated almost every room.
“I can show you the rooms as soon as we’re done here,” Liza promised. “Almost every room has been freshly decorated.”
“That sounds great. If it’s anything like the downstairs, I’m sure it’s lovely,” Judy said quickly. “There is also the matter of feeding everyone while we’re filming,” she continued. “We normally do that with catering trucks but it’s hard to get those out here and up and running as well.”
“So you need the inn as home base while you’re shooting, and some of the crew will stay a few nights. Is that it?”
Judy laughed. “Basically, yes. But you make it sound so easy.”
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