The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge

by Stewart, Mariah

  “Weren’t they lovely, the lot of them?” He spoke aloud as he watered the ferns. “Mike’s boys and Elizabeth were wonderful, made everyone feel at home. It did my heart good, I swear, to see them all together, talking and laughing like old friends.” He put the watering can down on the bench and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’d have given whatever years I may have left to have had you here for that, Rose.” He paused. “But of course, you were here, in your way, and I’m grateful for that.”

  The only one who’d been missing had been Craig, and for all the chaos his son had caused in so many lives, some small part of Curtis wished he’d been there as well.

  “Not the real Craig, though,” he told Rose. “The should-have-been Craig. The real Craig would have brought along too much pain to too many people.” He sighed deeply. It was terrible to want so badly to love your son, when your son insisted on being so unlovable. How, Curtis wondered, had such a man fathered five such wonderful children?

  It was one of those mysteries he’d never solve.

  Curtis walked to the glass wall that overlooked the gardens that he now had to pay someone else to care for. His days of weeding and planting—the things he’d taken up after she was gone—had ended. These days, it was all he could do to walk the entire length of the property in the back and pull out the occasional dried and dead plant.

  Like I’ll be soon enough, he thought. Not for the first time, he wondered if he and Rose would be able to come back and look in on their progeny, much as Rose looked in on him. Curtis had no fear of dying, no intention of praying for another day or a little more time. He felt he’d died a little every morning he’d had to wake without her by his side and was more than ready to be with her again in whatever form that next world allowed. But he would like to make a final decision on what to do with this place. There were eight grandchildren. How to decide? How to choose one over the other?

  The thought occurred to talk it over with Violet, and he was pretty sure that thought had been planted by Rose.

  “All right,” Curtis said aloud. “I’ll give her a call in the morning, see if she has any thoughts on the matter. Between now and then, perhaps you’ll slip an idea to one of us.”

  He picked up the watering can and shuffled to the door, pausing to turn off the light. He locked the front door and started slowly up the steps, but paused as her scent surrounded him. He smiled and turned off the hall light at the top of the stairs, and followed his wife into their silent room.

  Chapter 21

  Invitations to the wedding of Dallas MacGregor to Grant Wyler, and that of Steffie Wyler to Wade MacGregor, were the hottest tickets in town. Even though scheduled for the same date at the same venue, separate invitations were mailed out. Guests were requested to keep the information to themselves to cut down on the invasion of paparazzi who vied to take the first photos of Dallas on her wedding day.

  Things had been kept under wraps for the most part, but late in the week word had leaked out somehow and St. Dennis was overrun by photographers and reporters from every celebrity and entertainment magazine, TV show, and Internet social website. The good people of St. Dennis, however, did their best to ignore their requests for information about times and dates and addresses.

  Lucy Sinclair arrived five days before the wedding, and when Brooke met with her at Scoop to test Steffie’s wedding-day ice cream and Brooke’s cupcakes, she looked as if she’d been hit by a truck.

  “When did you last sleep?” Brooke asked Lucy.

  “I don’t know,” Lucy replied wearily. “What day is it now?”

  “It’s Wednesday and the bags under your eyes have bags. You can’t be working twenty-four hours a day, Lucy.”

  “For some reason, I just can’t seem to sleep at the inn,” Lucy confided. “It’s crazy, right? I grew up there. People come from all over the country to stay there. But I don’t get a wink of sleep when I’m home.”

  “You’re going to be dead before Saturday if this keeps up. Can’t you stay somewhere else?” Brooke opened the box of cupcakes and offered Lucy her choice.

  “Gorgeous. I love them. If they taste as good as they look …” She picked up a white frosted cake covered with iridescent edible glitter and took a bite. “Heaven. Who needs wedding cake when you can have one of these little lovelies?”

  “Thanks.” Brooke cut one that had a silvery-lavender frosting and handed Lucy half. “Luce, you’re going to have to sleep between now and Saturday. If you can’t sleep at the inn, you’re going to have to sleep somewhere else.”

  “How do you think my mother and brother would react if I told them I was staying at one of the other inns or B and Bs in town instead of at home with them?” Lucy covered a yawn with her hand. “Besides, everyone in town would be wondering why I wasn’t staying there.”

  “Why would you want to stay at another inn since your family owns the best on the Eastern Shore?” Steffie carried a tray to the table and placed dishes of creamy white ice cream in front of Lucy and Brooke and saved the last one for herself. “Something going on at the inn that I don’t know about?”

  Lucy turned to Brooke. “See what I mean?”

  “Lucy hasn’t been able to sleep at the inn,” Brooke told Steffie.

  “Why do you suppose that is?” Steffie asked.

  “I don’t know.” Lucy shook her head. “I never can sleep when I’m there.”

  Steffie took a spoonful of ice cream and grinned. “Perfection.” She dipped the spoon in for a second bite. “Maybe the inn has ghosts.” She put the spoon down in the dish. “I’ll bet it does. I read in the brochure that the house was built in the 1800s. I’ll bet there are lots of ghosts there. I’ll bet that’s what’s keeping you awake, especially since you’re descended from the original Sinclairs who built the place.”

  Lucy glanced at Brooke. “Is she always like this?”

  Brooke nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Stop it, you two.” Steffie laughed. “This town is full of ghosts, everyone knows that.” She turned to Lucy. “I’ll bet your mother could find out who it is. She has this Ouija board, and she could probably contact whoever it is.”

  “My mother has a Ouija board and contacts ghosts,” Lucy said flatly. “You have got to be kidding me. My mother?”

  Steffie nodded. “She helped me to contact Horace, my grandmother’s cousin who left his house to me?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as several customers entered the shop. “We found out that Horace and Alice Ridgeway—her family built Vanessa’s house and Alice lived there for ninety-some years and Ness bought it from Alice’s estate—they were lovers.”

  “Vanessa and Alice were lovers?” Lucy deadpanned.

  “Alice and Horace. No one knew, all those years.” Steffie got up to wait on the two women who were looking over the selections in the freezer cases. “Ask your mom. Think about it.”

  “Steffie always was a fanciful girl with imagination to spare,” Brooke said as she scooped up some ice cream onto her spoon and tasted it. “This is fabulous. I wonder what’s in it?”

  “I don’t know, but I definitely agree.” Lucy nodded.

  “I taste coconut,” Brooke said. “And maybe something fruity.”

  “You taste coconut and white peaches. There’s also white chocolate, but the flavor isn’t as pronounced.” Steffie told them from the counter.

  “It’s delicious.” Lucy waited until Steffie’s customers had paid for their ice cream and seated themselves. “You know, you could sell this. There are a lot of ice creams on the market, but nothing as good as this. And I’m not saying that just because you’re paying me a gajillion dollars to do your wedding.”

  “Dallas is paying you a gajillion dollars,” Steffie reminded her. “Our affair is a lot more modest.”

  “Whatever. The point is that your ice cream is amazing. I would love to be able to offer this to my L.A. clients,” Lucy said.

  Steffie shook her head. “I’d have to do things differently if I expanded. I
’d have to buy bigger machines and I wouldn’t be able to fit them into the back room, so I’d have to move at least part of my business. I’d have to hire more people to run the machines and quality control would become an issue for me. I’d have to travel to meet accounts and do PR and talk up my ice cream. I wouldn’t have time to do the things I like to do, like play around with different flavor combinations in between customers. You’re not the first person to suggest that I expand and try to become the next Ben and Jerry, but I don’t want to do that. I’m happy just the way things are. I have total control over every aspect of my business, every day. I know my customers and love chatting with them. Now, if you can think of a way that I could make Scoop better, I’d love to hear it. But bigger?” She shook her head again. “Not interested in bigger.”

  Lucy held up her spoon. “This stuff could make you rich, Stef.”

  “I’m already rich. I own this business lock, stock, and freezer. I make enough money during the tourist season to keep me happy and in shoes all year long. I set my hours and make whatever kind of ice cream I feel like making on any particular day. The only orders I have to fill are the ones I decide to take. I have my evenings with my honey and my girlfriends and a very good life. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  The bell over the door rang and Steffie smiled. “Hey, Barbara. What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to drop off a little something for you and Wade.” Barbara Noonan, who owned the bookstore on Charles Street, paused on her way into the shop. “Is that Lucy Sinclair I see?”

  “It is.” Lucy touched her napkin to the corners of her mouth and got up from her seat to give Barbara a hug. “How’s my favorite bookseller these days?”

  “She’s seen better days,” Barbara returned the hug. “A lot of us independent bookstores have had ups and downs these past few years, but we’re holding our own. Especially during the summer when all the tourists and the day-trippers come into town. But enough about me. How are plans for the big wedding going?”

  “Fabulously well,” Steffie responded before Lucy could. “Lucy is a genius. Wait till you see the inn. That’s all I’m saying. Just wait till you see what she’s got planned.”

  “I can’t wait.” Barbara handed a beautifully wrapped package to Steffie. “Much happiness to you and Wade.”

  “Aw, thank you, Barb.” Steffie kissed the woman on the cheek.

  “You’re very welcome, dear.”

  “Do you have time to sit for a few minutes …?” Steffie gestured toward the table where Brooke sat.

  “I really don’t, but thank you. I have to get back to the shop.” Barbara waved to Brooke. “I’ll see you all on Saturday. Can’t wait!”

  Steffie walked Barbara to the door and closed it behind her. She turned to Lucy and said, “Why would I ever want to leave here?”

  “Forget I mentioned it,” Lucy said as she sat down at the table again.

  Steffie walked over and leaned on the back of the chair she’d earlier been sitting in. “You know, I’ll bet your mother could get those ghosts to leave.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “If I’d known you were this into the otherworld, I’d have planned a different theme for the wedding.” She pretended to be thinking. “I wonder if it’s too late to put some gauzy things in the trees to look like floating spirits.”

  “Scoff if you must,” Steffie said loftily. “You’re the one who isn’t getting any sleep.”

  “Sorry, Stef. I just don’t believe in spirits,” Lucy told her. “I really believe that once you’re gone, you’re gone, and you don’t come back.”

  “That’s a debate for another time.” Steffie finished her ice cream. “The real issue right now is getting you some sleep so that you can turn the ballroom into my fantasy winter-wedding wonderland.”

  “Why don’t you stay out at the farm with us?” Brooke suggested. “It’s Clay’s farm now, but my son and I are staying there until we’re able to get the old tenant house renovated, and my mom is staying there until her new house is ready for her to move in, so you’ll be well chaperoned.” She grinned. “So you wouldn’t have to worry about gossip going around about you and Clay.”

  “There are worse things that could be said about a woman than that she’s tangled up with your brother.” Steffie tapped Brooke on the head and tossed her dish, spoon, and napkin toward the trash can near the door.

  Brooke thought she saw a bit of a flush creep up Lucy’s neck, but she wouldn’t have sworn to it.

  “No way could I get away with that,” Lucy said. “What excuse would I give my mother and Daniel for not staying at the inn?”

  “I know.” Steffie snapped her fingers. “You can stay at my place. We just finished fixing up the guest room and it’s really sweet. I made Wade move back to Berry’s for the week before the wedding, so it would be nice to have the company.”

  “Stef, that’s really nice, but again, what do I tell Mom?”

  “You tell her …” Steffie paused. “You tell her that you can’t sleep at the inn because you keep thinking about the wedding and getting up to go down to the ballroom to check on this or that and you need to get away from it for a few hours at night. And you can tell her we’re … we’re working on the wedding favors.”

  “Someone else is doing that,” Lucy reminded her.

  “Does your mother know that?” Brooke asked.

  “Probably.” Lucy appeared to think it over. “I think she’ll understand the can’t-sleep-’cause-I-keep-running-downstairs-all-night excuse, though. She knows how particular I am about details.” She nodded. “I think that’s believable. Thanks, Stef. I really appreciate it.”

  “I close up here at seven,” Steffie told her. “Come by and follow me home.”

  “I’ll do it, thanks.”

  “Can’t have my wedding planner slipping into some sort of sleep-deprived psychosis the day before the wedding.” Steffie gathered up the empty bowls. “Anyone want seconds?”

  Brooke and Lucy both shook their heads. “Thanks but no thanks,” Brooke told her. “Any more and I’ll never get that dress zipped on Saturday.”

  She turned to Lucy. “So we’re set, right?”

  “I think so.” Lucy opened a notebook that lay on the table and turned a page so that Brooke could see the diagram. “After the cake is cut, we’ll have the cupcakes and ice cream served from this table.”

  “You mean cakes, right? Two different cakes?” Brooke asked.

  “Dallas decided at the last minute that there should only be one cake and it should be Stef and Wade’s. She said she’s happy with cupcakes. The display will be amazing, by the way. Just leave it all to me.”

  “If you need help setting them up …” Brooke began to offer, but Lucy waved her away.

  “Your job on Saturday is to be a gorgeous bridesmaid in all those photos that we know are going to surface from here to Beijing by Sunday morning. My job is to make sure everything is arranged perfectly in the ballroom.”

  “Then you’d better get some sleep between now and then.” Brooke grabbed her bag from the back of her chair. “We’re done for now?”

  “We’re done till Saturday.” Lucy nodded.

  “Great. I’m going to run. I have another eight million cupcakes to frost.” Brooke waved to Steffie, who was waiting on a customer, and took off for the farm and the work waiting for her in the kitchen.

  The Day was seasonably cold with clear blue cloudless skies. Guests arrived at the Inn at Sinclair’s Point for the first wedding, which was scheduled for one in the afternoon. There were whitecaps on the Bay, and over the inn’s vast lawns, dozens of gulls swooped low. One of Dallas’s West Coast guests noted that they looked like flying confetti, and wondered how they trained the birds to fly around the inn at the precise moment the guests were arriving.

  Brooke stood in an anteroom with Dallas and the other attendants, adjusting the flowers in one another’s hair and retying the glittery sashes that circled their waists. The last wedding she’d been in—her own
—weighed heavily on her mind. On that day, she’d been the one crowned with roses, in a long satiny gown, and she’d marched into the church on the arm of her father. Eric’s smile had lit up the room when he saw her walking down the aisle.

  Brooke was painfully aware that both Eric and her dad were no longer with them. It saddened her. Since that day, her life had seen many changes, some good, some not so welcome. She’d made her peace with it all, and today, wished only to celebrate the new beginnings of her friends.

  Funny, though, she mused, that I’d be a bridesmaid for Dallas MacGregor in her wedding to Grant, since Dallas and I spent our high school years vying for his attention. Dallas, of course, had always won, and if Brooke had hated her with all the might of a scorned teenager back then, these days, she’d grown to love Dallas like a sister. No one, Brooke had told Jesse, was happier for Dallas and Grant than she herself was.

  Strings played softly in the smaller of the two ballrooms, where rows of chairs had been set up to form a center aisle covered with a white cloth runner that led to a wooden arch covered with white roses, orchids, hydrangea, and stephanotis. The ends of the rows were draped with white tulle gathered in waves and held together with huge bunches of lavender roses and white baby’s breath. The Hollywood elite sat elbow to elbow with the local guests, and everyone stood when the strings announced the arrival of the bridal party and the back doors opened.

  Berry Eberle, the bride’s great-aunt, walked down the aisle proudly on the arm of her beau, Archer Callahan. They were followed by the groomsmen: the best man, Gabriel Beck, the town’s chief of police and the groom’s best friend; Clay Madison; Cameron O’Connor; and the bride’s son, Cody. The bride’s two-year-old nephew, Wade’s son Austin, toddled along behind Cody and waved to everyone he knew.