Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

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Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light Page 18

by Katherine Spencer


  Her glance at James and then Zoey was just as hopeful as a child’s. Zoey knew that neither of them had the heart to refuse her. “Maybe tomorrow or another night this week would be best, Grandma,” James said gently.

  “I think James is right—” Zoey began, but before she could finish her sentence, the curtain was pulled aside with a swishing sound.

  “Mom, are you all right? I knew when I didn’t see you in church that something must have happened. James said you fell. Why didn’t anyone call me?”

  “Hello, Evie. Calm down, I’m fine.” Sophie stared at James as she answered her daughter. What’s she doing here? Zoey could almost hear her say aloud.

  “Aunt Evelyn sent me a text while you were getting X-rayed,” James explained. “I’m sorry we didn’t call you sooner, Aunt Evie. We just wanted to get Grandma to a doctor right away. They haven’t found anything wrong so far except a sprained wrist.”

  “I wish you had called an ambulance and gone to the hospital. This is just a clinic. Mom, does your wrist hurt very much?”

  “Just a twinge, dear. No need to fret. The doctor said it was just a mild sprain. I’m sure they’ll let me go in no time.”

  “Let’s not rush it. We want to be sure you’re all right. You never know with a fall.” Evelyn leaned over the bed and smoothed the blanket. She looked like Sophie, Zoey reflected. A short woman with fair hair, a round face, and a plump figure. Her skin was smooth and her eyes bright, like her mother’s. But she had not inherited Sophie’s peaceful, optimistic disposition.

  “She had a full physical and a test for her heart. The doctor said everything was fine,” James reported.

  Evelyn looked over at him. “Where were you when she fell? Did she have to wait very long for you to come?”

  “I was right in the kitchen, waiting for her to come downstairs.”

  “I know what you’re driving at, Evelyn, but this isn’t James’s fault. He’s been keeping a good eye on me. It’s just that my slippers are too worn and loose. One of them slipped off my foot as I came down. That’s what happened, and poor James can’t be blamed because I’m too stubborn to give up my comfortable slippers.”

  Zoey could see that James felt self-conscious, even a bit embarrassed. He felt bad enough about his grandmother’s fall without his aunt rubbing it in.

  Evelyn sat back in her chair and set her big purse squarely on her lap. “It’s more than the slippers, Mom. It’s that big old house and everything that goes with it. I’m not blaming James,” she added. “But it just goes to show that even with someone else in the house, it’s still not a safe place for you.”

  “Oh, bother. I knew I’d be hearing that old song sooner or later,” Sophie grumbled. “Can’t you take a tiny bit of pity on me, Evie? At least wait until I’m out of this bed.”

  A nurse walked into the room with two orderlies. “We’re ready to give you the MRI now, Mrs. Potter.”

  “Great, let’s roll. You folks came just in the nick of time,” Sophie said to the orderlies, who cranked down the back of the bed and secured her in place with a belt.

  The nurse smiled, looking amused. “It won’t take long. Your family can wait here.”

  Evelyn stood up and blocked her path. “I’m Mrs. Stotlemeir, Mrs. Potter’s daughter. Can I speak to you a minute about my mother?”

  James caught Zoey’s eye and tilted his head, signaling to follow him out of the cubicle as Sophie’s bed was rolled away. They walked back to the waiting area, leaving Evelyn with the nurse.

  “I think this is going to take a while,” James said. “Maybe even longer, now that Evie is here. She’ll drive me back to the orchard. You don’t have to wait.”

  Zoey had wondered about that; she was feeling a bit intrusive now, since she wasn’t family. It seemed that Evelyn wanted to discuss serious family matters—even if Sophie and James didn’t.

  “I guess I will go if you think you’re okay. I’ll call you later and see how she’s doing.”

  James looked pleased to hear that. “Call anytime. I’m on the schedule tomorrow at the diner. I’ll see you before your interview.”

  Her interview for the internship . . . With all the excitement about Sophie, she had nearly forgotten. Zoey was still wrestling with second thoughts about keeping the appointment, but she smiled and nodded. “It isn’t until the afternoon. I guess I will see you.”

  “Don’t worry. Jot down some questions you think they’ll ask and figure out your answers. Speak from your heart. I know you’ll do really well.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “They would be lucky to have you, Zoey. I think they already know that.” He leaned over and kissed her lips, a fleeting, intense kiss that caught Zoey by surprise. She held on to his shoulders, feeling her knees go weak for a crazy moment. She stepped away from him, not knowing what to say. “Let me know about Sophie,” she murmured, then turned and quickly left the clinic, not daring to look back.

  As Zoey headed to the village, she felt as if she were driving on a cloud. The road flew by, the bare branches and brush changing to houses and then shops on Main Street. She didn’t see any of it, her mind filled with images of James, his smile, his voice, and his touch. She was feeling closer to him every time they were together. He was so caring and concerned about his grandmother, handling the situation in such a mature way. He didn’t need to thank her so profusely for helping. She hadn’t done much. But that was sweet of him, too, she thought.

  James was different from other guys she had known. It had sounded so dumb and simplistic when she’d tried to explain that to Lucy that morning, but she didn’t know any other way to say it. She had never known anyone quite like him before.

  Was she starting to feel too much for him too quickly? Zoey wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t help looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. To seeing him more and more.

  * * *

  Sophie was in the kitchen Monday morning when she heard a knock on the front door. She called out to James, then remembered that he was in the barn, searching for paint and brushes. He had to be at the diner in a few hours and wanted to get some work done around the house before he left.

  The knocking sounded again, and she called out, “I’m coming. Just a minute.”

  Mac ran ahead, barking so much she wasn’t sure her visitor had heard a word. But she couldn’t shout any louder or move any faster this morning. She felt even achier than she had last night.

  Falls were like that; it took a while for all the sore muscles to check in. She had forced herself to get out of bed and get dressed at her usual time, though the aches urged her to sleep late. But if Evelyn or Una came by unannounced, Sophie knew it wouldn’t help her case one bit to be found in her bathrobe.

  She knew it wasn’t either of her daughters visiting now. They always let themselves in. She opened the door a crack and saw Reverend Ben.

  “Hello, Sophie.” His warm smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. I heard you had a fall?”

  “I took a tumble, Reverend. No real damage, thank goodness. I think the angels caught me.” She smiled and waved him in. “I’m just having a second cup of coffee. Will you sit with me awhile?”

  “I’d like that very much.” Reverend Ben followed her inside and down the hallway.

  “Don’t mind the house. We’re in the middle of cleaning up and painting. And Christmas decorating on top of that.” Macintosh followed them into the kitchen, where he circled the minister’s legs, his tail wagging. “Don’t let Mac bother you, either. He just wants attention.”

  “Don’t we all.” Reverend Ben leaned over and stroked the dog’s thick fur, not caring a whit about his black pants. Sophie thought she would offer a lint brush before he left. A minister had to look tidy when he was out and about his business.

  “Can I help you with anything?” the reverend asked. “You shouldn�
�t be serving me with a bandage on your wrist.”

  “I’m fine. It’s my left hand. Another blessing,” she added. “But you can grab the coffeepot while I bring you a mug.”

  They sat at the table together, and Reverend Ben poured the coffee. There were muffins left from breakfast, which she offered him. No matter what he said about watching his waistline, he could never resist Sophie’s baking.

  “My, these are good. Apple cinnamon, my favorite.”

  Sophie smiled. All of her baked treats were his favorite, but she didn’t bother to remind him. “I’ll give you a few to take home. James complains I cook too much for him.”

  “I’m surprised you’re able to cook at all. Does your wrist hurt much?”

  “Only when I forget and try to use it. I’ve picked apples and handled three kids under five years old with a dislocated shoulder—or worse. This is nothing. I can still do everything I need to do for Christmas.”

  “I hope so. But you aren’t having your family here for the holiday, are you?”

  She knew Reverend Ben didn’t mean anything by it, but the way he worded the question irked her all the same. “I don’t see why not. It’s almost two weeks away. My wrist will be fine by then. Besides, I struck a deal with my children about having my Christmas get-together here, like I always do. My daughters tried to wriggle out of it yesterday, but I made them stick to their promise.”

  Sophie felt a little worked up just recalling the conversation. Once Evelyn had brought her home, Una arrived, and both insisted that she couldn’t have Christmas after all—despite the deal they all agreed to on Thanksgiving.

  “What sort of deal was that?” Reverend Ben sipped his coffee, his eyes curious behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

  “My children have been after me to give up this house and the orchard, Reverend. Ever since I was sick last winter, it’s just gotten worse and worse.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Reverend Ben had been very attentive to her during her illness, visiting while she was in the hospital and after she came home. Bringing books, flowers, news of the church and village. He had been a good friend and a bright spot during a long, lonely winter.

  He had also been privy to visits with her family, and she was sure they had tried to enlist his help in persuading her to their thinking. But the reverend, good friend and fair-minded as he was, had not taken sides. Sophie was grateful to him for that, too.

  “Evelyn wouldn’t let me have the family here for Thanksgiving,” Sophie explained. “She said it was too much work. But I got them to agree I could have Christmas here. In return, I promised to think about putting the place up for sale. The house needs some attention whether I stay or go. That’s why James is doing all this painting and repair work. But I’m sure my kids think that’s a sign that they’re wearing me down. Even though I have no idea what I want to do.”

  “It’s a difficult decision, for everyone,” the reverend said gently. “I guess your mishap yesterday brought this all to the surface again.”

  “Like a big green sea monster rising from the waves.” Sophie waved her hands and made a funny face. Reverend Ben laughed, but she could see the understanding in his eyes. “Evelyn wanted me to go home with her after the clinic. Lucky for me, James is here.”

  “That is fortunate. But how do you feel about selling the property now? Have you given it more thought?”

  “Night and day. It’s all I can think about. But not even falling down on my bottom has helped me get to the bottom of it. I’m so confused, Reverend. More than I’ve ever been in my life. On one hand, I’m coming to see their point of view. They do worry so about me, whether I think they ought to or not. They just do. That’s only gotten worse, and it’s never going to get better. It’s starting to feel selfish to stick to my guns like this. Just yesterday at the hospital, Evie said, ‘Can’t you see we’re worried sick about you? Why are you doing this to us?’” Sophie sighed and shook her head. “She looked like she was going to cry. I never thought I was a self-centered mother, but now I’m thinking maybe I am.”

  Reverend Ben leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sophie. You’re the least selfish or self-centered person I’ve ever met. Your children have your welfare at heart, no question. But you have your own needs and concerns, as well. You’ve lived here your entire life, from the moment you came into the world.”

  “Right in that back bedroom,” Sophie said with a proud smile. “My mother was late for everything. She left it too long to get to the hospital.” She laughed, and Reverend Ben did, too. But once the mirthful moment passed, she felt a wave of doubt come over her again. “I’m just so confused, Reverend. Do you have any suggestions for me? You’re probably the one person I’d really listen to.”

  Reverend Ben smiled kindly, his eyes bright. “That’s quite a compliment, coming from you, Sophie. But I’m sorry, I have no suggestions. None I should share, anyway. No one can tell you what to do or when to do it. But I hope you can quiet the voices of your family, and those of your mind, too. And hear the advice that comes from deep in your heart. And feel at peace with whatever decision you arrive at, knowing it’s the right thing to do. The right thing for you to do.”

  “I know what you mean, Reverend. I’ve asked the good Lord for some guidance. But so far, I don’t feel that’s helped me get any closer to the answer—unless there’s some message for me right under my nose that I can’t see.”

  “It happens that way sometimes. Don’t give up on your prayers. I’ll pray for you, too.”

  “Thank you, Reverend. I know that you and Carolyn always have your family at the parsonage for Christmas Day, but I hope you can all stop by here and say hello at some point in the day. Whether I’m at peace with it in my heart or not, I have a feeling this could be my last Christmas here.”

  Reverend Ben looked sad at her statement. “Let’s hope and pray for the best in this situation, for all involved. Whatever that may be,” he said. “And we’d be delighted to stop by on Christmas, Sophie. We would be honored.”

  Sophie nodded, feeling suddenly too teary-eyed to speak. But Reverend Ben was the sort of friend who understood how you felt and what you were thinking before you even said a word. He was a blessing in their church—and in her life.

  * * *

  Zoey felt like a cat captured in a burlap sack as she struggled to change her outfit in the diner’s tiny restroom—exchanging her waitress uniform for black wool pants, a light blue tailored blouse, and a gray tweed blazer. Mondays were usually slow, and the lunch rush had passed, too, so few customers would come in before closing. Trudy was not on the schedule today, but James had promised to wait the tables and do his job, too, so that Zoey could slip out for an hour or two.

  She certainly hoped Charlie didn’t decide to run down from his office for a surprise visit and find his new manager had flown the coop. But she and James had figured out a story to cover that, too.

  As Zoey emerged, she felt another bout of cold feet. How crazy was it to interview for a job that you knew you couldn’t accept?

  James finished taking an order from a table across the room, and headed toward her. “All set to go, I see. You look awesome, Zoey. Do you have an extra copy of your résumé?”

  She nodded, battling another wave of nerves as she pulled on her jacket. “I have about ten copies. And copies of the recommendations from my professors. And two pens that write, and everything else I might need. I’m just not sure why I’m doing this,” she admitted. “What’s the point? Even if I get the job, I can’t take it.”

  His gaze was sympathetic. “Think positive, Zoey. You never know what might happen. Maybe a new manager for the diner will drop out of the sky. Or maybe the diner will burn down,” he added, making her laugh. “Maybe another job at the center will open later on, and you’ll make such a great impression on them today, they’ll call you first.” He gently brushed back a strand
of hair that had fallen on her cheek. “I know you’re scared, and it seems like a huge effort to do this. But in the long run, you might be very happy you made the effort.”

  Zoey nodded and zipped up her jacket. “Thanks, Coach. I needed that. I’ll try not to be too long.”

  “Take your time. I’ve got it under control here,” James promised. “I was only kidding about the diner burning down.”

  She laughed at him. “I hope so.”

  He gave her one of those smiles that seemed to warm her soul. “Good luck, Zoey. Though I’m sure you don’t need it. How could anyone resist you?” James leaned over and quickly kissed her. Zoey felt a thrill down to her toes and a lightness of heart that melted her worries.

  On the short drive to Beverly, her mind flip-flopped between her anxiety and James’s encouraging words. When she reached the center, she parked in the front, near the offices; it was a part of the building where she rarely ventured. Although she had volunteered there for almost a year, she hardly ever walked into the lobby or spoke to the receptionist, who sat at a desk near a waiting area.

  “Zoey Bates. I’m here for an interview with Ms. Foster.”

  “Go right in, Ms. Bates, first office on the left. Ms. Foster is expecting you.”

  “Thank you.” Zoey nodded and forced a smile. All the articles she had read online about interviews said to make sure you smile a lot, even if you don’t feel like it, because smiley people are statistically more likely to be hired.

  The executive offices were very modest. The door to Ms. Foster’s office was open, and Zoey knocked. A woman with dark hair, streaked with gray, sat behind a desk, typing very quickly on her keyboard.

  She looked up and met Zoey’s glance over the edge of her red-framed glasses. “Come in, please. You must be Zoey Bates.”

  “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Ms. Foster.”

 

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