by Terri DuLong
He nodded. “Yes, I spend a fair amount of time in there when I’m home.”
I noticed a beautifully decorated half bath off this hallway, and Worth gestured to two guest bedrooms as we walked along. When we reached the end we stepped into a large room that could only be a library.
Standing in the center, I took in the four walls lined floor to ceiling with shelves and books. At one end there was even a brass rod with a mahogany ladder attached.
“Now, this is impressive,” I said, taking in the chintz easy chairs, tables, and lamps comprising the middle of the room. Two long, rectangular windows allowed just enough sunlight in, and I noticed that one of them had a window seat with three large cushions. A book lover’s fantasy.
“I have to admit, I do love this room,” he said as I wandered over to browse some of the titles, which did reflect his preferences. History and politics, and against another wall I scanned Shakespeare and various books of poetry.
“Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.”
We had made a complete circle, and I now found myself back in the foyer but entering from the east side of the house. To the left of the front door was an intricately carved oak staircase, and I followed Worth to the second floor. Two more guest rooms were off the long, L-shaped hallway, separated by a sitting room. Both were beautifully decorated, and I couldn’t help but think perhaps Worth was right—all this room for one person did seem a bit foolish. I followed him back out to the main hallway, and at the far end we stepped into what I knew was the master suite.
I caught my breath before saying, “Oh, wow,” as my eyes took in the exceptionally large room dominated by a king-size canopy bed positioned to look through a wall of French doors to a deck and directly out to the woods bordering the property. I walked toward the doors and saw lounges and tables sheltered by a partial roof overhang, allowing both shade and sunshine. I shook my head and marveled at the beauty.
“It’s a bit ostentatious,” I heard Worth say at my shoulder as he let out a sigh. “But . . . it was what Claire wanted.”
So that was his wife’s name—Claire. I felt his hand at my back as he directed me toward the attached bathroom, and once again the word wow came to mind. A large sunken tub took up one entire corner, surrounded by potted plants, candles, and two steps leading into the tub. A glass-walled walk-in shower took up another corner, complete with two benches and double showerheads. A long vanity sink, toilet, and bidet completed the room, with a large skylight above me and oversize paned windows flanking the tub.
“I wouldn’t say it’s ostentatious,” I said. “All of it is absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you,” was all he said as I followed him back downstairs to the kitchen.
He reached for my empty glass. “One more?”
“Yes, that would be nice,” I said as I positioned myself on the stool. “Did you raise your daughter in this house?”
“Yes, we moved in here when Caroline was three months old, so this is where she grew up.”
“Lucky girl. Thanks,” I said, taking the champagne flute.
Worth nodded. “I think Caroline did always feel fortunate.”
I noticed that he didn’t say the same about his wife. “Did you do the plans for the house and have it built?”
“Yes, I did all of the blueprints with Claire’s input. She had been hoping to move in before Caroline was born, but the contractors had a few minor setbacks. As large as the house is now for me, being alone, we did entertain quite often with my business. We also had various fund-raisers held here for the university and other organizations. So it was nice that I had the space to be able to do all of that.”
I smiled as I got the distinct feeling that Worth was a strong believer in giving back.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, and I saw that sexy smile appear again. “That was where I first met you—at one of the fund-raisers at the university.”
I was certain he was joking, as I had no recollection of ever having met him until he walked into the yarn shop a couple of weeks before.
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d say something, but obviously I didn’t make much of an impression. One of the professors brought Claire and me over to meet you and Andrew. We did only chat for a few minutes, and it was about fifteen years ago.”
All of a sudden I had a flashback of being at one of the many functions that Andrew and I were required to attend. I did recall an extremely handsome man in a tux accompanied by a tall, slim, blond woman wearing an emerald-green gown. Of course I had forgotten their names over the years but the one thing that now stood out in my memory was how friendly the man had been and how his wife had displayed an air of coolness and boredom.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I do remember now, and I apologize that I didn’t recognize you right away.”
Worth leaned across the island and patted my hand. “No need for an apology . . . but I’d like you to know that I never did forget meeting you that night.”
I felt the energy of his hand on mine and I was certain that our friendship had been notched up another level.
14
By Tuesday afternoon I was finding it difficult to suppress the smile that kept appearing on my face. It had been a while since I’d felt so good. I had been at the yarn shop earlier and saw the archway to the needlepoint shop almost completed, and Worth had done a wonderful job with it. So the work was moving along on schedule, and that gave me cause to be happy. Although I had no idea what might happen, if anything, I was also happy about my friendship with Worth. I liked him and I liked being with him.
I had just filled the washing machine with towels and turned it on when the phone rang. I answered to hear Victoria’s voice. “How’re you doing?” I asked.
“Okay, but I’m afraid Sam is having difficulty understanding that Maybelle is gone. He really enjoyed spending the summer with her.”
“I can understand that. Death is difficult no matter the age, but for kids, even more so.”
“I was calling to let you and your mother know that the memorial service will be held on November sixteenth. It’s a Saturday, which I thought might be more convenient and not too close to Thanksgiving. Is your mother at home or at the shop?”
I glanced at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. “Okay,” I said and saw it was three weeks away. “And, yeah, my mother’s still at the shop.”
“I’ll give her a call there with all the details, but the memorial is being held at Maybelle’s house in the garden near the water. It’s what she specified in her will.”
I thought of the ideal location of Maybelle’s property and smiled. “She was right to choose that. Safe Harbor is the perfect place to remember her. Have you decided yet what you’re going to do with the house?”
There was a pause before she spoke. “I haven’t said anything to anybody yet . . . but yes, I’m going to put it up for sale. With a young son and a business to run up here in New York, I just know I wouldn’t be able to get down there much to use it, and that’s not right. Somebody could be enjoying that house. I think Maybelle would have wanted that. But, Marin, do me a favor—don’t say anything to anybody. I’d rather the word didn’t get out just yet.”
I will never be able to explain why, but before I could even stop myself, I blurted, “I won’t say a word if you promise to do me a favor—please don’t list the house with a Realtor until you offer the sale to me first.”
“Absolutely,” she said, and I heard the surprise in her voice.
After hanging up with Victoria, I brewed a pot of coffee, poured myself a mug, and went outside to sit on the patio. I still had no idea why I had made that request to Victoria. I’d known the house might go up for sale but hadn’t given much thought at all to actually purchasing it. Until that moment on the phone. Did I really want to buy Maybelle’s house? I hadn’t even seen it since I was a teenager. God only knew what it looked like inside. I glanced up and noticed a swarm of dragonflies hovering in the air nea
r the fence. It had been ages since I’d seen any. For some reason they seemed to come to the island only sporadically. At the same time I noticed the dragonflies, I heard the radio in the kitchen begin playing an old song from the fifties that I also hadn’t heard in ages, “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels,” by Kitty Wells. The wind had increased, coming in from the water, and I shivered as I listened to the words about married men thinking they were still single. I let out a deep sigh and got up to go back into the house.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I took the last sip of my coffee and knew what I had to do. Finding the phone number on the paper in my handbag, I placed a call to Fiona Caldwell. My hand gripped the phone as I heard the rings and then a female voice saying hello.
I hesitated before inquiring, “Is this Fiona Caldwell?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
The voice was soft, with an annoyed tone. The one we use for telemarketers.
I cleared my voice. “This is Marin Kane. Your . . . father’s wife. James Coburn, the attorney, said you wanted to speak to me.”
I heard a surprised gasp from the other end of the line, and the annoyed tone was now replaced with excitement, as she said, “Oh! Thank you for calling me. I wasn’t sure that you would. You know . . . under the circumstances and everything.”
“What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?” I knew I sounded abrupt but couldn’t help it.
“Yes . . . well. How did my father pass away? Was it an accident or had he been ill?”
“A heart attack. He had been teaching a class at the university and collapsed. It was quite sudden.”
There was a pause before she said, “I see. I’m truly sorry for your loss, and I can only imagine what a shock it was for you to learn about me. At least I always knew I had a father out there somewhere.”
“What exactly had your mother told you? And . . . I’m sorry for the loss of your mother.”
“Thank you. I was only told that he was married, that she hadn’t seen him since before I was born, and it would serve no purpose for me to know his name or where he lived. So he lived in Florida?”
“Yes, Gainesville,” I said and couldn’t help but feel Bianca Caldwell had maintained an aloof attitude toward her daughter where it concerned Andrew.
“Do I have any siblings? I’m an only child, so I’ve always wondered if maybe I had any sisters or brothers. Well . . . half sisters or brothers.”
“You do,” I said as a wave of guilt came over me for not yet telling Jason and John about their half sister. “You have two brothers. Andrew and I had two sons by the time you were born.”
“I do?” Even across a phone line it was easy to detect an increased excitement in her voice. “So they’re older than I am?”
“They are. Jason is twenty-four and lives in Atlanta, and John is twenty-two and lives and works in Boston.”
“Boston? I’m in Marblehead, just north of Boston. Oh, my God! Who would have thought I had a brother living so close. Are they married, any children?”
“No. They’re both still single . . . and they don’t know a thing about you.” The sarcasm in my tone slipped out before I realized it.
“Oh,” I heard her say. “Yes, of course. I can understand that. So, ah . . . they’re never going to know about me? Is that what you’re saying?”
I heard a bit of defiance in her question. “No, I didn’t say that. I just haven’t told them anything yet. They’ll both be home for Christmas. I was planning to tell them then. Do you have any other family? On your mother’s side? Grandparents or aunts and cousins?”
“No. Nobody. My grandparents both died when I was small, and my mother was an only child. So . . . it’s just me.”
So this girl truly was an orphan, but I refused to allow my emotions to rule the conversation. “Do you know how they met? Your mother and Andrew?”
“She told me she met him when she was teaching a summer course in Amherst. My mother had a degree in business and was teaching economics. She was twenty-six when she had me.”
So Andrew was about eleven years older than Bianca.
“I see. And you’re in college?” I questioned.
There was a pause before she said, “I was. I finished my freshman year at BU, but I didn’t return for this semester.” Another pause before she said, “I needed some time off.”
I wondered if the reason had anything to do with finances or perhaps the fact that she had lost her mother the previous spring. “Do you work?” I asked. I felt like I was being nosy but assumed if Fiona didn’t want to answer, she wouldn’t.
But without hesitation, she said, “I’m working at a restaurant in Marblehead. Just waitressing. Maybe I’ll return to college next year. What I really wanted to speak to you about”—and another pause came across the line—“was . . . I was wondering . . . if it might be possible to come down there and meet you and my brothers—half brothers. I mean, I know you said they don’t know about me yet, so we could wait until after the first of the year. You know . . . until you’ve told them about me.”
I certainly was not prepared for this. Okay, I could understand her wanting to meet Jason and John, but she could travel to Atlanta and Boston to accomplish that. So why me? I wasn’t related in any way to this girl.
“Oh . . . well . . . I’m not sure the boys will even be back here after Christmas.” I felt myself stammering for something appropriate to say. I was at a loss for words and annoyed that she was directing this request at me. “Listen, let me think about this. Let me explain the situation to the boys at Christmas and see what their reaction is. And then . . . maybe we can arrange for you to visit if they’d like to meet you and can manage a return trip to Cedar Key.”
Silence came across the phone.
“Would that be okay?” I questioned.
“Yes,” I heard her say softly, knowing I hadn’t given her any other option. “Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll wait until you call me back after the first of the year.”
I said good-bye and hung up the phone, and it was then it hit me that during our entire conversation Fiona had not mentioned money or the account Andrew had set up for her.
15
“So what did you tell her?” Chloe asked as she continued stocking the cubbyholes with a new shipment of yarn.
“I told her I wasn’t sure that would be possible. I mean, really. I don’t think I should be expected to meet Andrew’s love child. I only called her to get some information so I could make a decision about signing the documents. So I told her I’d need time to think about any possible meeting, and she did seem to understand.”
Chloe nodded but remained silent.
“What?” I asked. “Do you think I’m wrong?”
“No,” she said, tossing the empty box into the back room. “Not wrong if that’s how you feel. How’d Fiona feel about the boys?”
“She seemed excited to learn she had two half siblings.”
“Hmm,” Chloe mumbled. “And . . . have you made a decision about signing those documents?”
I straightened the knitting needles hanging on the rack as I rearranged the correct sizes. “God, why can’t people replace the correct size where they belong? It’s such a nuisance going through them every day to keep them in the right place . . . and, no, I haven’t made a decision yet.”
I had a feeling that Chloe was thinking if I met Fiona in person it might help, but I didn’t want to discuss it further. I turned around to see Berkley enter the shop with another woman.
“Hey,” she said. “I wanted to bring Resa over so she could meet you guys. I’d like to introduce Resa Campbell . . . the proud new owner of the Cedar Key Bed and Breakfast.”
“Wonderful,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Marin Kane and this is Chloe Radcliff. Congratulations.”
“And welcome to Cedar Key,” Chloe told her, also shaking Resa’s hand.
“Thank you. It’s not quite official yet. Jake and I made the offer this morning, but
Ali accepted right away. So we have to get with the Realtor and do all the paperwork next week.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy living here and running a business,” Chloe said. “I’m sure it’ll be a bit different from Seattle.”
Resa laughed. “Yes, that was the point of relocating. Jake and I both wanted to live in a smaller town. He’s going to be joining a pediatric practice in Gainesville and eventually hopes to open his own. And I’m just thrilled to finally be living in the same town as my dad.”
Despite the years apart from her father, she did seem quite excited about their reconciliation. I wondered if Fiona held any animosity toward Andrew. As far as I knew, he had played no role in her life, except financially, and she had only recently found that out.
“Any chance you’re a knitter?” Chloe asked.
“I am, and that was another reason Berkley brought me by. I’d like to get some yarn for a sweater.”
“Great,” I said. “And you’ll have to join our knitting group tomorrow evening. We meet every Thursday about seven.”
“Yeah, Berkley had mentioned that. Oh, what’s that yarn?” she asked, walking toward skeins of cranberry, pink, and black.
“That’s the Cascade Ultra Pima Quatro. One hundred percent pima cotton. Nice for a sweater to wear in Florida.”
“I love it,” Resa said, heading to the book of patterns. “Now I’ll choose something to make.”
I shook my head and laughed. “I wonder how many women choose the yarn before they decide on a pattern or if they do it in reverse.”
“Hmm, good question,” Berkley said.
“It’s kind of like, which came first—the chicken or the egg? I’d bet it works both ways. How do you choose?” Chloe asked me.
“Actually, you’re right. Depends on my mood, I guess, and which I see first—the yarn or the pattern.”
“Marin, have you got a second?”
I spun around to see Worth standing in the archway.
“Sure,” I said, following him into the next room. “What’s up?”
“Well, I’m afraid we have a bit of a setback. I had really hoped that ceiling light would arrive today. The archway is finished, so I was planning to begin on the light tomorrow.”