Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

by Katherine Spencer

  Sophie lifted her head and smiled. She glanced at her son. She knew he had faith, but her open way of expressing her own made him uneasy at times. He cleared his throat and looked down at the table. “Very nice blessing, Mother.”

  “Thanks, son. The words just came to me. That’s the way it is sometimes. Try some of that Virginia ham, it’s very tasty. And there’s turkey, too.”

  She passed her son a platter and then passed a bowl of potato salad to Fran, who had decided she was hungry after all. “What a pretty bowl,” Fran said.

  “A Christmas gift from a new friend, Melissa Quinn. She and her husband, Tom, just moved in down the road. That old cottage on the pond, near the Morgan property?”

  “I know the one. It was passed on in a family trust,” Fran replied.

  “That’s right,” Sophie said. Mac started barking and ran to the side door before they heard a knock. Bart was about to bite into the sandwich he’d built for himself, but paused. “Must be Evelyn. I told her I’d be here.”

  Sophie was not surprised. Her son had planned an ambush, but she was well prepared.

  “I’ll get it, Grandma,” James said.

  “You sit. I’ll see who’s there.” She glanced out the kitchen window as she headed to the mudroom, happy to see the Quinns’ green truck parked behind Bart’s car.

  Lord, if I’m doing the wrong thing, I’m sure you’ll let me know pretty quickly, she silently prayed. Then she pulled open the door and welcomed the young couple in.

  “I hope we’re not here too early,” Tom said.

  “You said noon, but we thought you might want to visit with your son awhile,” Melissa added.

  Sophie helped them off with their coats and herded them toward the kitchen. “Right on time. We were just sitting down for lunch.”

  The curious stares of Fran and Bart greeted Sophie and her guests as they walked in. “This is my son, Bart Potter, and Fran Tulley, a friend from church,” she explained, not wanting to scare them.

  Fran looked surprised at that introduction, but didn’t contradict her. “This is Melissa and Tom Quinn, my new neighbors. We were just talking about you. Fran was admiring that bowl you gave me,” Sophie explained.

  The Quinns stood beside her, looking a bit uneasy. Bart jumped up and offered his hand. Sophie had taught her children good manners, and he had not forgotten.

  “Have a seat, you two. Have a bite to eat. Get them some coffee or tea, James,” Sophie told her grandson as she sat. She would have done it herself, but she didn’t dare leave the couple alone with Bart and Fran.

  Bart glanced at his mother curiously, as if to say, “We have family business to discuss. Why in the world did you invite them here?”

  Sophie ignored his dark looks. Fran looked confused, too. “So . . . how do you like Cape Light? Have you been in the cottage very long?” Fran asked politely.

  “We came in September,” Melissa said. “We like it very much.”

  “The cottage suits them fine,” Sophie jumped in. “But they’ve been looking for some property to cultivate. Tom’s studied organic farming, and he likes the idea of apples,” she added. “So we talked about them buying this place, and we’ve come to an agreement.”

  Fran sat back in her seat, looking the most surprised. She turned to Bart. Bart looked surprised as well, but Sophie could tell from the grim set of his mouth he had been expecting her to toss up some obstacle to his reasonable, well-meaning plan.

  “A deal to buy the orchard? Well . . . I guess we can consider all offers,” he said in a smooth tone. “Once Fran works up the figures. But we were hoping for a buyer who would take the house and land. It will be harder to sell the pieces separately.”

  Tom seemed about to speak, but Sophie held up her hand. “That’s just it—why it works so well for me and why I’ve given my word to them.” She caught her son’s eye with a look he knew well. “If the orchard is taken care of, I see no reason why I can’t stay on in the house. I plan to find a nice companion who will live here and help around the house, as needed.”

  Bart shook his head. “Mother, we’ve been through all this. You promised us,” he reminded her.

  “I did,” Sophie agreed. “But that was when I thought I couldn’t burden you and your sisters with worrying about me living here all alone and taking care of the property, too. It seemed selfish to put that responsibility on you, along with worrying about my well-being. But now these young people have appeared out of the blue. They love the trees and will take good care of them. That was part of my prayers, too.”

  “It would be easy to divide the house and property,” Fran said. “I’ve already looked into that question.” She searched through her folders and flipped one open.

  Bart glanced in her direction and back at his mother. “That still doesn’t solve the question of you staying here.”

  “It does for me, son. Don’t you see? With these lovely people taking over the orchard, it’s a sign that I am meant to stay. My dearest prayer is to spend the rest of my days—be it one or one thousand—right under this roof. There’s nothing wrong with me but old age, thank the Lord. With a companion, I’ll be fine. I’m going to try. No matter what you or your sisters say.”

  Bart looked about to object again and just shook his head.

  He turned to Tom Quinn. “I don’t know what sort of agreement you have with my mother. But, as you can see, the issue is more complicated than she’s told you.”

  “I think we’ve struck a fair price, sir, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Tom also had a folder of papers with him and handed it across the table to Bart.

  “Here’s a list of recent sales of comparable properties,” Tom said.

  “And we have a letter from our banker there, too. There shouldn’t be any problem with a mortgage,” Melissa added.

  James had been so quiet that Sophie had almost forgotten he was there. He suddenly jumped up in his chair. “Dad, I think we should go outside with Tom and Melissa and walk the property. They have a lot of great ideas for the orchard and the land. We can show them the equipment in the apple shed and talk about the sale of that as well.”

  Bart looked up at his son, seeming surprised at the idea. “All right. I could use a breath of fresh air.” He got up from his chair and looked back at his plate. “Save my lunch, Mother. I barely got to eat a bite.”

  Sophie nodded. “Take your time. It will be right here.”

  “I think I’ll be going, too,” Fran said. “It doesn’t look like you need my help after all.”

  “I’m sorry to take you out of your way today, Fran. As you can see, this is all new to me,” Bart apologized.

  Fran shrugged. “All’s well that ends well.” She smiled at Sophie as she pulled on her coat. “I couldn’t quite imagine you leaving this place, either,” she confessed. “You’re like a village landmark or something by now. I mean that in the nicest way.”

  “That’s a very nice compliment, Fran.” Sophie laughed. “Maybe I should get a bronze plaque and wear it around my neck. Then my children would stop pestering me.”

  Fran laughed and hugged her good-bye. “Thanks for the lunch. I can find my way to the door. Happy New Year, everyone!” she called back.

  “Happy New Year, Fran,” Sophie answered, feeling that her own prospects for the new year were ever so much brighter.

  As Fran left from the front door, Bart, James, and the Quinns left from the side of the house. Sophie ran to the kitchen window to watch them begin a tour of the property.

  James was such a clever boy. That inspiration had come from Heaven above, actually, she corrected herself. Either way, she was sure that some time with Tom and Melissa would convince her son they were the perfect people to take over the Potter land. Bart acted as if he didn’t care who bought the place, but she knew, deep down, he felt an attachment to the orchard and his family home—w
hen he was able to silence the very practical, businesslike voice inside him.

  Just as the group emerged from the barn, she saw Evelyn’s car pull up. Sophie was relieved to see Bart summon her over and introduce her to the Quinns. She had not been looking forward to explaining it all to Evelyn while the others were out.

  “Thanks again, Lord. It’s going along beautifully,” Sophie said as she watched from the window, washing up a few dishes.

  A while later, the group came back inside. Sophie had fresh hot tea and coffee and a platter of cake and cookies ready. Sweets did tend to help people act and speak sweeter to each other, she had found.

  “Did you have a good walk?” she asked as they came in.

  “We did,” Bart replied. “We had a good talk, too. There are some more details to work out, of course. But I’m tending to agree with you, Mother. I think the Quinns are good buyers for the property.” He glanced at his sister. “What do you say, Evelyn?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “I trust the business details to you, Bart. But I’m happy to see the orchard go to a family who will keep it running. I know that means the world to Mother.”

  Sophie didn’t reply. Her heart felt too full of gratitude, and her eyes felt watery, too. “Thank you both. I knew that once you got to know Melissa and Tom, you would understand that I was doing the right thing.”

  “In that respect,” Bart agreed, not yet letting her off the hook for the living-alone idea. “The conversation is not entirely over, Mother.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Evelyn agreed.

  “We can see you have more to talk about, and we don’t want to intrude,” Tom said. He offered his hand to Bart and then to Evelyn. “Please call me soon to iron out the rest of the agreement.”

  “I will, Tom. Good to meet you,” Bart said. Good-byes were exchanged all around, and the Quinns showed themselves to the door. James went outside with them. “I’m going to close up the barn and find Mac. He’s been out long enough, too.”

  “Good idea. Thanks, honey.” Sophie faced her children and took a steadying breath. Neither of them had sat at the table yet, and she didn’t want to, either. Best to have this out on her two feet, she decided.

  “Bart told me you plan to stay in the house,” Evelyn said.

  “With a live-in companion,” Sophie cut in. “I can find one easily—”

  Evelyn held up her hand, like a crossing guard directing traffic, and Sophie’s heart fell. “That may not solve our problem. You had James here with you, and yet you managed to fall.”

  “That could happen at your house as well,” Sophie pointed out reasonably. “Even if you put me in a wheelchair, there’s no guarantee I’ll never take a spill. But I aim to hire a professional, someone who’s been trained to care for an old woman like me.”

  Evelyn and Bart exchanged a glance. “Bart and I talked it over outside,” Evelyn said at last. “If you hire a professional caregiver, and if you agree to follow some basic safety guidelines, we’re willing to try it . . . for six months,” she added.

  “We’ll be keeping a close eye on you. No driving or cleaning out gutters, and no climbing ladders of any kind,” Bart reminded her. “If there’s the least reason for concern, we’ll have to revisit this question.”

  “And we get to meet and approve of the person you hire to live here. Before you give your solemn word again, Mother,” Evelyn added.

  Sophie felt her cheeks grow warm. She had acted behind their backs with the Quinns, it was true. But she believed the Lord forgave her for that. As Fran had said, all’s well that ends well.

  “Of course you’ll help interview my companion. I had no intention of doing it without you,” she promised. She suddenly felt light, almost giddy with happiness. “So it’s all settled? I can stay in my house—me and Mac?”

  “Yes, it’s settled,” Bart said gruffly. “Amen to that.”

  “Amen,” Evelyn echoed. “I’ll call Una. She’s been burning up my cell phone line.”

  “Yes, call your sister. Give her the good news. You’re very good children, and I love you all dearly. I don’t tell you enough,” she added.

  Evelyn and Bart glanced at each other and laughed.

  “I would never say that,” Bart replied, patting his mother’s shoulder. “But we do deserve a little special credit today.”

  She agreed with that. And she was sure the good Lord did, too.

  Thank you for bringing them both around to my point of view, she said silently. Thank you for this happy day and all its blessings.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On New Year’s Eve, the diner closed at three o’clock. It wouldn’t open again until Monday. Christmas and New Year’s Day were practically the only days of the year Charlie closed entirely.

  Zoey watched the clock. It had been a very slow and boring day, even though Saturdays were usually busy. She had spent most of the time at a table in the back, figuring out her schedule for the next semester. She was working with just her mother and father, but there had been hardly any customers all day. She had harbored some crazy fantasy James would stop in to say good-bye, though part of her knew it was best if she didn’t see him at all.

  They hadn’t been in touch since Christmas Eve. She had managed to avoid his work shifts; it wasn’t that hard, since she made up the schedules. He was leaving on Monday, so she really ought to stop thinking about him now.

  Still, she wondered what he was doing tonight to bring in the New Year. Packing, probably? That wouldn’t take too long. Everything he owned fit in a backpack. Her friend Laurel was having some people from school over, and Zoey had promised to go there. Better than staying all alone in her room while her parents had company downstairs. She would only sit around moping about James—and might even give in to the ever-present urge to text or call him.

  And the point of that would be? It’s not like he’s going to come back from Peru and see me on weekends, she reminded herself. Maybe someday I’ll write him a letter. Though she doubted she would ever work up the nerve to do that, either.

  “Three o’clock, on the nose,” Lucy announced. She had the broom and dustpan out to sweep up. “Flip the sign and see what your father’s up to, will you, honey? I need to get home and get ready for my company.”

  As eager to leave as her mom, Zoey ran back into the kitchen. Charlie had it well under control. “You go help your mother. Remind her to shut off the ice maker.”

  “All clear in the kitchen. Dad said to shut off the ice maker. I can do it,” Zoey announced as she walked out again.

  Lucy didn’t answer. Zoey looked around for her and found her at the back of the diner, standing next to the table where Zoey’s laptop and books were spread out. Lucy looked up from a sheet of paper she was reading and stared at her.

  “Zoey, what is this?”

  Zoey walked closer and glanced at the paper her mother held out to her.

  “How did you find that? Did you go through my things?” Zoey said, feeling suddenly and totally upset.

  “I found it on the floor, under your chair. You got that internship and you didn’t even tell us?”

  Zoey stepped back. She nodded, a lump in her throat. “I went on the interview a few weeks ago. For the experience,” she added. “I never thought I’d get it.”

  Her mother shook her head. “I’m not mad at you for that part. But why didn’t you tell us you were chosen? This is a big honor, honey. Why did you keep it a secret?”

  “I knew I couldn’t take it. I already promised Dad I’d work here over winter break. He was going through so much with the storm, I didn’t want to make more problems for everybody. So I thanked them and said it wasn’t going to work out.”

  Lucy stared at her, her eyes wide and glassy. She let out a long breath. “You just sit here. Don’t move until I say,” she warned.

  Zoey sat down. She knew her mother was going to tell he
r father. But there was nothing she could do.

  Lucy marched to the kitchen and pushed open the door. “Charlie? Come out here.”

  “I’m almost done, Lucy. I’ll be right out.”

  “Come out here now. We need you,” her mother insisted.

  She heard her father grumble and the squeak of his kitchen shoes as he hurried out to the dining room. “What is it—that ice maker leaking again?”

  Lucy held out the letter. “Remember that internship Zoey wanted? Look at this. They chose her, out of everyone who applied.”

  Her father took the letter and read it quickly, then looked back at her mother. “When did this happen?”

  “I don’t know. Ask Zoey. She says she already turned it down, because she promised you she would work here.”

  Charlie stared at her. “Zoey . . . you didn’t, did you?”

  Zoey nodded. “I sent an email yesterday. I said I was very honored and grateful, but I had to help with a family situation. I didn’t want to bother you, Dad,” she explained. “You were dealing with so much in town with the storm. I promised I’d help you. I didn’t want to go back on my word.”

  “You did that for me?”

  Zoey just nodded. “I want to help you, Dad.”

  He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Honey, that’s just about the nicest thing I ever heard. I feel awful about this—”

  “See? That’s just what I mean,” Zoey interrupted. “I didn’t want you to feel bad. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Well, now we know,” Lucy said gently. “I don’t think it’s any accident I found that letter, either.”

  “Your mother’s right. You take this job. It’s important, and a lot better use of your time than working here. I see that now. I’ll figure it out,” Charlie promised.

  “Besides, I changed my schedule at the hospital for January. I’m working more nights and can help here during the daytime,” Lucy added.

  “And I’ll find someone else to fill in,” Charlie promised. “For goodness’ sake, if I can dig this town out after the storm, practically singled-handed, I can figure this out, too.”