Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

by Katherine Spencer

  James nodded, barely smiling. “I do. That was thoughtful of her.”

  “It was. As usual. I got her a little something, too. Maybe she can stop by this afternoon and open it.”

  “I think she’s busy with her family.”

  Something in his tone piqued Sophie’s radar—a hint of friction between them? But she didn’t feel comfortable asking questions. Young people had to work things out for themselves. What was meant to be, will be, she reminded herself.

  “Well, I’m sure to see her before the New Year. Before you go,” she added, thinking of the plans James had made for his departure. “Did you tell her about Peru?”

  “I told her last night. She was happy for me,” he said in the same flat tone.

  Sophie wondered now if that was it. It only made sense. Of course, Zoey was disappointed to see him go. And he felt bad, too. Anyone with eyes in their head could see how the two got on. It was a shame, but they were headed in different directions right now.

  The good Lord did have a way of bringing people back together who belonged together, she knew that as well. Best to just let this settle, like a bottle of cream, and see what rises to the top.

  “I’m going to put the extra dishes away in the china closet. You get a bite to eat for yourself,” she told him.

  “I’m not that hungry right now. Guess I overdid it at the party. I’ll take Mac for a walk if you don’t need me right now.”

  Macintosh loved to be outside, in any kind of weather, though Sophie could not recall the last time anyone had taken the dog for an official walk. He was an independent old hound who walked himself. But she could see that James was restless and a bit dispirited. She thought fresh air would do him good.

  “Good idea. He’ll follow you. But take some treats in your pocket in case he goes chasing a rabbit or some other critter.”

  The dog knew he was being talked about and jumped up from his bed. He ran to James and put both paws on the young man’s knees, staring up with an imploring look.

  “Okay, buddy. You’re on. Let me get my coat and gloves.”

  Sophie was already in the dining room, working on her dishes, when she heard them leave. She returned to the kitchen a short time later and stood drying another stack of dishes that needed to be stored.

  A knock sounded on the side door and she checked the time. Church volunteers already? It seemed too early for that. She opened the door to find her new neighbors, Melissa and Tom Quinn, a young couple who had moved into the area a few months ago. She had seen them last night at the party.

  “Merry Christmas, Sophie. I hope we’re not disturbing you?”

  “Not at all, come on in. I was just cleaning up a bit.”

  “I heard people talking about that last night, and we came to help. Tom brought you some firewood,” Melissa said, turning to her husband.

  “You must have used at least a cord last night,” Tom said. “We have plenty. I’ll stack it on your porch later.”

  “Thank you so much. That’s very generous of you. I was wondering what my son would say when he saw how low that pile is,” she added with a laugh. “Take off your coats. Would you like some coffee or tea? I was just about to sit down a minute.”

  Melissa took off her coat and reached into her big leather bag. She handed Sophie a parcel wrapped in a cloth. “The wood is sort of a Christmas present. This is, too.”

  Sophie unwrapped the cloth and found a beautiful handmade bowl with a dark blue glaze.

  “Isn’t this beautiful? I love the color. It’s perfect for my kitchen,” she added, feeling a tight spot in her heart, wondering how long she would even have her own kitchen. But the girl could not have known that. She meant only good.

  “Melissa made it. She’s a potter,” Tom said proudly.

  “Are you? My granddaughter Miranda is an artist, a jewelry maker. She used to have a studio right out there in the barn.”

  Melissa glanced at Tom. “Yes, we know. We were talking to her last night.”

  “She told us that you’re planning on selling your property, the house and the orchard?”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes, I am. I have to. It’s gotten too much for me, and my children have been after me awhile to go. The orchard especially is hard to manage at my age . . . though it never felt like work,” she added. “I grew up here. I was born right in this house, and I’ve lived here ever since.”

  Melissa smiled sympathetically. “That must make it even harder.”

  “It does,” Sophie said. “Or it will, once I sell and go. My children are going to put the place up right after the New Year. I don’t know how long I’ll stay after that. My grandson James has been here the last few weeks, but he’s leaving in a few days, too.”

  “You can’t live alone here, is that it?” Tom asked.

  “I’d stay until I died in my bed,” Sophie said honestly. “But I have to see common sense, too. I can’t stay all alone anymore. The winters are too long and hard. I suppose I could find a companion of some kind. But my kids say, just let it go. So . . . here we are.”

  She looked up at the young couple, realizing she had been lost in her own worries and probably rambling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with my troubles. So, tell me about yourselves. Your aunt left you a little cottage down the road, Melissa?” she recalled. “On the pond near the Morgan property?”

  “That’s the one. We need to make some improvements, but it’s very comfortable, for now,” Melissa said. “Tom grew up in Vermont, and I grew up in the Berkshires. We met in college and lived in Portland awhile. But we both wanted to move back to a more rural place.”

  “Cape Light is perfect for you, then,” Sophie said.

  “Almost,” Tom agreed. “Right now, we’re looking for a piece of land to cultivate. I studied agriculture. I’ve been working on organic farms, and I’m ready to start my own.”

  “Good for you. You know, my grandson was just telling me there are a lot of young people interested in farming again. I didn’t really believe him . . . but here you are.”

  “Yes, here we are.” Melissa smiled at her.

  Sophie suddenly understood the reason for their visit. Aside from the lovely Christmas gifts.

  “Do you think you’d be interested in selling just your property, Sophie—the orchard and outbuildings?” Tom asked.

  “We don’t really need the house. We’re not sure we can afford the property with the house, too,” Melissa said honestly.

  “Or maybe you would consider leasing the land to us, and we would cultivate it? I would keep the orchard,” he said quickly. “Though I’d turn it green.”

  Sophie’s head was spinning. Were these young folks sitting at her kitchen table—who suddenly looked like angels to her, complete with halos and wings—really offering to buy the orchard, to keep her trees and take good care of them? To even let her keep living in the house if she liked? She pressed her hand to her chest. She could barely breathe.

  Melissa looked at her with alarm. “Sophie, are you all right?” Melissa jumped up from her chair, looking ready to administer first aid or call 911.

  Sophie caught her breath and laughed. “I’m perfectly fine, dear. I’m just so happy, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You can’t know what this means to me, to hear you say you’d like to buy the orchard and keep growing apples. And I can stay in this house, too.” She shook her head. She was crying now and took a tissue from her pocket to dry her tears. “You can’t know. It’s an absolute . . . miracle,” she said finally.

  Melissa reached over and touched Sophie’s hand. “You’d be helping us, too,” she said. “We’ve been looking for months for the right place. We know you probably have to talk this over with your family. We don’t want to create any problems for you, or any trouble. But this place is just perfect for us. It would mean the world to us if we could work this out.”


  “It’s our dream come true,” Tom said.

  Sophie lifted her head and smiled at him. “I know . . . that’s what makes it perfect. Now that you two have found your way here, I feel certain in my heart that it will work out.”

  Sophie heard the side door open and then Mac’s paws clicking on the wooden floor. He raced into the kitchen, straight to his water bowl, where he lapped furiously. James soon followed, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair wind tossed. Or maybe he hadn’t combed it yet. He had taken a shower but he had not shaved, Sophie noticed. Was he growing a beard for Peru?

  “This is my grandson James,” Sophie said. “Maybe you’ve already met?”

  “Yes, last night when he bore a strange resemblance to Santa.” Tom stood up and offered James his hand. “Nice to see you, James. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” James said to both of them. He turned to Sophie. “Your dog took me for quite a hike, Grandma. I checked the trees. It doesn’t look like the storm did any damage. But some of the wire supports on the new row of Granny Smith saplings were loose. I can fix that for you before I go.”

  “You sound like you know your way around an orchard,” Tom said.

  “A little. I used to stay here for a few weeks every summer. My grandpa would always have us in the orchard, helping him. We used to call it Apple Camp.”

  Melissa laughed. “What a good idea! I’m sure a lot of eco-minded parents would sign their children up for that camp.”

  Sophie laughed, too. “You’ll have to jot that down. It’s always nice to figure out a few ways to bring in some extra money. I kept bees and had a cutting garden, too. We had a little shed on the road that sold fresh flowers, honey, fruit, and my pies and preserves.”

  James looked confused. He turned to Tom. “Are you thinking of opening up an orchard around here?”

  “Yes, they are,” Sophie answered. “You remember those young farmers you were telling me about? Well, here they are. Melissa and Tom want to buy my property and keep the trees and grow vegetables on the land, too. Isn’t that amazing news?”

  James looked stunned. He slowly smiled. “That is amazing. I know what I said, but—”

  “You didn’t really believe it,” she finished for him. “Well, I did. All things are possible with God, James.”

  “I guess so, Grandma. This is certainly proof.”

  Someone knocked on the door, then pushed it open. “It’s just me, Sophie,” Sam Morgan called out. “We’re here to pick up the tables and chairs. We’ll start with the stack on the porch.”

  James rose and pulled his jacket on. “I’ll help them.”

  “We will, too,” Melissa said as she and Tom got up to follow. She turned to Sophie for a moment. “We’ll talk more about the details. Can we call you tomorrow? Or maybe you’d like us to deal with a realtor?”

  “You can deal with me,” Sophie said quickly. “I’m still the owner here.” She was reminding herself as well, she realized. She didn’t need Bart and some real estate broker raising all sorts of objections and hurdles for these young people. We’ll get our ducks in order first, she decided. Then I’ll tell them.

  I trust you to iron out the practical details of all this, Lord, she added, offering a silent prayer. You’ve taken me this far; I know you won’t let me down now.

  * * *

  Sophie was thankful that in the days after Christmas, none of her children mentioned putting her house up for sale, or any of the heavy issues that had hovered over their holidays. Maybe they had agreed among themselves to give her a few days’ grace—to simply savor the success of her Christmas party and recuperate from that event.

  Or maybe they were all too busy with their own lives.

  Whatever the reason, she was thankful. The days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve provided just enough time for her to talk over the sale and terms with Melissa and Tom. And enough time for them to get their finances in order and even get a preapproval from the bank for a mortgage.

  She still hadn’t quite figured out how to share the news with her family when Bart called on Thursday night. “I was thinking of coming up tomorrow,” Bart said. “I want to say good-bye to James before he leaves for Peru.”

  James was leaving Monday. It was getting close. But Sophie had a feeling Bart had other business on his mind as well.

  “That would be fine, Bart. I’ll tell him you’re coming. I’ll make a nice lunch,” she added.

  Once they had hung up, Sophie wished her son would come that very night. She felt suddenly on edge and wanted to get the conversation over with, though she felt it would be best to tell all three of the children at once.

  God, give me strength. I’m leaving this in your hands. I’ll do whatever pleases you, she promised.

  She felt even more nervous the next day as she prepared for her son’s visit. Her hands trembled, and she dropped a cup as she carried it to the table. Luckily, it was empty and didn’t break.

  James jumped up from his chair and picked it up for her. “Are you all right, Grandma?” He had been lost in his thoughts, writing in his book, but now carefully helped her into a chair.

  I might ask you the same, she nearly replied. He had been moping around the house the last few days, ever since Christmas Eve.

  Maybe having second thoughts about his trip? Or maybe it was something going on with Zoey? Zoey had stopped by for a few minutes the day after Christmas, but James had been out and she hadn’t asked after him.

  “I’m fine, dear. Just some nerves about seeing your father. He and your aunts have been quiet as mice lately about selling the house. But I have a feeling that’s why he’s really coming.”

  “You haven’t told them about Melissa and Tom?”

  “Not yet. I want to tell them all at once. And I needed a few days to work things out with the Quinns. We haven’t put anything in writing yet, but we agreed on a price. I think it’s a fair one, and I hope your father agrees.”

  “It sounds serious.”

  “It is. I gave them my word. They have the means to buy this place and a letter from the bank to prove it. But I expect a landslide of objections from your father and your aunts.”

  “I do, too,” James said. “But I’m in your corner, Grandma. I think this is a great solution for you. I hope they can see that.”

  “I do, too, dear.” She patted his arm.

  The doorbell rang. Sophie looked at James. Only strangers rang her doorbell. “I’ll get it,” James offered.

  “No, let me.” Sophie took off her apron and smoothed her dark red dress. Mac trotted after her, barking along the way. She pulled the door open and was surprised to see Fran Tulley.

  The Tulleys had not come to her party. Power had been restored to their street, and Sophie had heard in church that Fran and Tucker had a houseful, with their married children home for Christmas.

  Sophie was not sure why Fran would be all the way out here today, but thought it might be some church business. Along with her purse, Fran had a pile of folders tucked under one arm.

  “Nice to see you, Fran. Did you have a good holiday?”

  “It was wonderful. My son and daughter-in-law are still here. I wasn’t going to work at all this week, but I told Bart I could spare some time today.”

  Sophie was confused now. “Bart asked you to come here?”

  “Yes, he said to come around noon. He told me you’re ready to list the property, and he wants me to work up an asking price.” Fran looked surprised and embarrassed. “Are you sure he didn’t tell you? We’ve all been so busy with the storm and the holiday, it’s easy to forget things.”

  Sophie paused and counted to three before answering. It was so easy to tell old people they had forgotten something. Did I do that, too, when I was younger?

  “Maybe that’s what happened. Bart must have forgotten to tell me he asked you here,�
�� she said mildly. She noticed another car turn onto the property and recognized her son’s blue sedan. “Here he comes now. No harm done. We’ll work this out.” She ushered Fran inside and shut the door. “Bart will be a while. He drives up that lane very slowly.”

  “It is bumpy. You really need to pave it,” Fran said as she followed Sophie into the kitchen.

  Sophie caught her grandson’s eye and smiled. “People say that. I guess we’ll see.”

  Fran took off her coat and quickly set up shop at the kitchen table, with a notebook computer, folders that said BOWMAN REAL ESTATE, and a long yellow pad.

  Bart soon came through the side door without knocking. He stamped some snow off his feet and called out from the mudroom, “I’m here, Mother. Is Fran here yet? I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you she was coming.”

  Sophie glanced at Fran. “That’s all right. I guessed something like that must have happened.”

  Bart walked in and kissed her cheek, then greeted Fran and James. Her grandson had begun setting out the lunch she had made, fixings for sandwiches and salads.

  But Bart didn’t seem interested in eating. “I thought it would be a good idea to let Fran look over the property while I’m here. We need to get started with the listing.”

  “Yes, dear, I understand. Let’s all have a bite first. No need to rush, is there?”

  Fran glanced at Bart, then back at Sophie. “I’ve already had some lunch, but I wouldn’t mind coffee.”

  “Coming up.” James was at the stove and served coffee all around.

  Sophie sat down at the head of the table and waited for James to return. “Let’s say a little blessing over the meal.” Her guests bowed their heads and joined hands. “Dear Lord, thank you for a wonderful Christmas. As you can see, we’re still enjoying your bounty and the leftovers. Please watch over all of us in the new year and keep James safe in his travels. Most of all, please keep us mindful of your word. Help us trust in you with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding. In all our ways help us submit to you, and know that you will make our paths straight.”