A Vineyard Rebirth

by Katie Winters

  “I wish I could see that old ballroom,” he said. “It disappears beneath that rubble.”

  “The ceiling was beautifully painted,” Kelli stated. “I can show you an old photograph if you like.”

  “If we did rebuild this back up, we would need to reinstate something like that,” Xander said thoughtfully. “Hire a classical painter.”

  “It could take forever.”

  Xander’s eyes were stoic. “Good things take time.”

  Kelli tilted her head as they held one another’s gaze.

  “You look as though you’ve never heard that expression before,” Xander turned to face her, a puzzled look etched across his face.

  Kelli’s laugh was quiet, nearly lost to the whipping winds there on the cliffside. “It’s just that spending a lot of time on details isn’t necessarily something most developers bother with. In my experience, it’s all money-money-money, into infinity.”

  Xander shrugged. “I have money. I’ve had money for years. Now, I work on passion projects. The money is a wonderful benefit of all the hard work and thought I put into them. But it’s not my primary mission. I think the guests eventually find that they feel that difference, as well. But who knows when this place would ultimately open again? It could take two years, or it could take five.”

  Kelli’s heart pattered with excitement. She was reminded of learning about old paintings that had taken years to paint, of books that had taken the writer fifteen years to research and scribe. Good things really did take time—ten months to form a baby. Perhaps a year or so to build a trustful love with someone. It was refreshing to meet a man who understood this.

  It had not taken long for her and Mike to unravel their world.

  “Maybe if I were a younger man, I would step on through that doorway and try to get as far in as I could,” Xander told her as he gestured toward the doorway.

  “Please, don’t.” Kelli laughed. “It was a hang-out place in the sixties— hippies smoking pot and all that. I think they loved the magic of the place the way we do. We felt it in the air. But one guy went all the way up to the tower and fell. Apparently, it wasn’t a pretty sight.”

  Xander lifted his chin to gaze up at the top of the tower. “Imagine being a hippie in the sixties, high out of your mind, and climbing up there. He must have felt on top of the world, if only for a moment.”

  Kelli chuckled. She’d never in her life tried pot. Had Xander? Was she a square not to have branched out, tried new things? Mike was the only man she had ever been with. She suddenly second-guessed everything.

  Xander stepped down from the stone staircase to meet his father at the base of it. He muttered something to Mark, too soft for Kelli to hear. She drew a curl around her ear. Was this the moment when Xander would go back on everything he’d just said? Should she have not told him about the tower and the hippie’s fall?

  “It’s really something,” Mark said to her then. “You said you had old photographs of the place when it was up and running, right?”

  Kelli snapped her fingers. “Of course, I’ll grab them now.” She hustled toward the car and grabbed the manilla folder, which was filled with print-outs Brittany had found online. She splayed the folder open on the hood of the car as Mike and Xander gathered on either side of her.

  “The photos are a bit earlier, from the twenties,” she explained as she held them out for both to see. “But you can see the state of the place. Absolutely beautiful, wasn’t it? And look at those outfits.”

  The late twenties had been a joyous time on the island. In many of the photographs, women and men played croquet together and drank cocktails beneath the sunlight. Men were serious in the photographs; their mustaches were thick and swept down on either side of their mouths. Several of the women, though, had been captured mid-laughter. In one photo, an older gentleman stood on the cliffside. According to the article online, this man had owned the hotel at the time. A man named Johnson.

  “And here are photos of the ballroom,” Kelli pointed. “They aren’t crystal clear, but you can get a sense for the grandness of the ceiling and the restaurant, which was attached.”

  Xander whistled. He lifted the photo and squinted his eyes to try to glean every last detail. “I wonder why people lost sight for these kinds of designs.”

  “I guess it again comes down to personal taste and money,” Kelli returned.

  Mark and Xander exchanged glances. Xander placed the photos together again in the manilla envelope.

  “Would you mind if we take these along with us?”

  “Of course not. I can always print more.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another breeze ripped past them. Xander laughed as his hair fluttered around him. He turned back to catch a last glimpse of the place.

  “That wind is strong up here. No wonder the old place fell apart during a hurricane,” he said. “I’m about to fall apart myself.”

  After a walk around the property itself, Kelli, Mark, and Xander returned to the car. Xander announced that he and his father had a great deal to discuss in the wake of this viewing but that they were infinitely intrigued. Kelli didn’t dare get her hopes up. She stepped on the gas and drove them back to Oak Bluffs as, thankfully, the radio DJ played music that made the air bright and optimistic.

  “I love this one,” Xander said of a tune by Electric Light Orchestra. “Makes me think of long car rides with my old dad.”

  “Who you calling old?” Mark chuckled from the back seat. “Kelli, we used to run around this continent together, me and Xander here. We didn’t have two nickels to rub together, but we always found a way to pay for gas.”

  “We were very resourceful back then,” Xander admitted. “But all that travel gave me a real appreciation for a number of things. For the culture and the history of this great country. And of course for the value of money.”

  “Sounds like you two were like the male version of Thelma and Louise,” Kelli said, giving Xander a sideways glance.

  Mark and Xander laughed outright. Mark smacked his knee.

  “You’re really something, Kelli. You remind me of Trevor and Wes. They were always mischievous. Always had something up their sleeves, with more brains than they should have been allowed.”

  Kelli had never thought of herself as particularly clever or funny, especially when compared to her brothers and sisters or her cousins. For the first time, she wondered if she’d been bred to think that way about herself as a result of living out her days with Mike.

  Maybe she could overcome it.

  Back at the real estate office, Mark shook her hand and thanked her again. He began to strut off back to his vehicle while Xander hovered by hers for a moment. Again, Kelli thought this was Xander, making time to tell her he actually wasn’t interested in the property without embarrassing her in front of his dad.

  But instead, he said, “That property and the way you talk about it— it’s really something special, Kelli. I have this feeling that you have a number of things to say; all of them interesting and all of them good.”

  Kelli’s cheeks flushed. What was happening?

  “I would really like to take you out for a drink and pick your brain,” he continued. “I wonder if you’d be up for that.”

  “I’m not sure my brain is in season,” Kelli returned. “Is this business or pleasure?”

  Xander chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. Just say you will.”

  Kelli’s voice crackled. “Why should I?”

  Xander shrugged. “If you don’t, I’ll be disappointed. And all I am is a simple man. I hate being disappointed. I suppose there will be no consequences besides that. The earth won’t shift on its axis. The sun will continue to rise and fall. And we will continue to lead our separate lives.”

  Kelli’s eyes sparkled for just a brief moment. She hadn’t been asked out on a date since her teenage years. Even though she knew it would be mostly about work, she could see that he may be interested in her as well. It made her body tingle wi
th excitement.

  “Okay, I’m up for it, but only because I can’t bear to see a grown man disappointed.”

  Xander’s laughter was like music to her ears. “Then I’ll be in contact. You won’t regret it.” He then turned on his heel and headed for his father, who gave him a curious smile. They were like two peas in a pod, with history and texture between them to fill multiple storybooks. Kelli’s heart surged with intrigue.

  What on earth would happen next?

  Chapter Eight

  The old antiquarian had a little cottage tucked into the forest around Oak Bluffs. His name was Frederick Bachman, and as was fitting, he was something of a loner, frequently keeping to himself, tinkering with his very old things and paying no mind to the outside world or the present day. He made his money with his sought-after goods, the likes of which people came to the Vineyard to purchase for upwards of hundreds of thousands of dollars. He had an eye for detail and could fix nearly anything up to its previous state.

  Kelli had never met Frederick Bachman before. Prior to her arrival with the blueprints, she spoke to him over the phone. His voice was raspy and deep, like something he didn’t use very often. He told her to come in the late afternoon, after his nap. He didn’t seem to regret telling her this very personal detail. She wondered if he took pleasure in telling her something so intimate— as she was sure he didn’t tell anyone very much, if anything at all.

  “Would you like me to bring you anything?” she asked, as he was a recluse and probably didn’t appreciate tasks like going to the store.

  “Oh, no. I have a young man do all my shopping for me every Monday,” Frederick replied. “I’m all set.”

  The cottage was like something out of a storybook. Kelli took a deep breath outside of it, then stepped lightly up the little stone pathway toward the bright red front door. She clacked the golden knocker and waited until she heard the shuffling of feet.

  The man who opened the door couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. He was slumped over, his shoulders hunched, proof that he had spent his life at a desk studying very old antiques and many other things. It was as though his back wanted to prepare the rest of his body for what was to come, like something to be studied down the line by the next person. Of course, it seemed a rarer thing these days that anyone was curious about old things at all.

  This was one of the first things Frederick told Kelli as he took the blueprints. “People simply don’t care anymore. They just throw things away without giving it a second thought. Years and years of history, gone. I’m the only one left to try to pick up the pieces.”

  His workshop was an unorganized yet fascinating space. Everywhere you looked, there was something to cling to— an old cuckoo clock, which he said had been made in Germany and brought to the Vineyard in the forties; a collection of jewelry items from 18th century England; an old rocking horse built in the year 1911; and the list went on. Kelli was terrified to break anything. She hovered in the doorway and watched as Frederick placed the rolled-up blueprint center stage on his desk.

  “Do you have a hunch of what it might be for?”

  She nodded delicately. “I think they’re for the old Aquinnah Cliffside Overlook Hotel.”

  Shock crept across his face. “The old Overlook? You don’t say.”

  Kelli nodded. “It’s not a total surprise it would be in my parents’ attic. They’ve been in charge of the sale for as long as I can remember.”

  “Fascinating.” Frederick’s face was now a flurry of activity. “It appears to have quite the water damaged. I’m glad you brought it to me without trying to unroll it yourself. These things must be handled delicately. And, as I’m sure you know, the hotel was built in the early 1800s. Long, long ago.”

  “I’m very familiar and was terrified to have such a beautiful thing in my possession. I hope you can bring it to life again.”

  “It’s not a matter of hoping, my dear.” He slid his small round glasses up his nose. “It’s just a matter of patience. I will show you these blueprints— but it will take me time.”

  “I have time,” Kelli told him, remembering again what Xander had said about good things and what they needed to survive.

  Kelli gave the man her number and bid him goodbye. She left with regret as she ached to remain in that space a little bit longer, breathing in the gritty air, the previous eras that lingered there. In many ways, Frederick himself was a relic of a previous era. How she longed to ask him about his own stories and what had led him to be a recluse. In truth, she could imagine a similar reality for herself— tucked away on her own somewhere with her books, hiding away from the world.

  No. She’d had children. They wouldn’t allow her a hiding place.

  And wasn’t that part of the reason people had children, somehow? To ensure they didn’t wind up all alone?

  SUSAN HAD INVITED HER female cousins and sisters along with the next generation of women over to her new house for dinner and drinks. After she dropped off the blueprints, Kelli directed her car over to the “Sheridan Estate,” which now consisted of the original family home and the home directly beside it, which Scott had purchased and built back up with the help of his teenage son. Kelli hadn’t had much contact with the son but had heard about his trouble at school, which had led to his moving to the Vineyard full-time. This hadn’t been something Susan had prepared for in the wake of her reunion with Scott. Kelli couldn’t imagine she would have handled it well— having to parent a teenage boy with barely any notice at all. Still, Susan Sheridan could do anything. She was a superhero.

  Lexi pulled up just a split second after Kelli arrived. Audrey sat in her front seat and gave a little wave. Kelli hadn’t known that the girls had begun to spend time together. Lexi jumped out and gave her mother a hug. “Audrey stopped into the boutique today, and we just got to chatting,” she explained.

  Audrey lifted Max’s little baby carrier from the backseat and carried it delicately. “I just love some of the clothes you have in that little store. It’s beautiful! And finally, my body feels ready to slip back into clothing I actually like.” She turned her eyes toward the sleeping baby and cooed, “It’s all your fault, isn’t it, Baby Max? Huh?”

  Kelli chuckled. She’d heard the Sheridan sisters discussing the fact that Audrey had returned to what seemed like her pre-baby body in no time flat. This was the nature of a twenty-year-old’s body, she supposed.

  “Look at this place,” Lexi breathed as she lifted her chin toward the large house.

  “I know. Aunt Susan really nabbed a great guy,” Audrey affirmed. “Not many of us meet the love of our lives when we’re a teenager. But she’s a forward-thinker, our Sue.”

  Claire and Charlotte pulled up after that. In the back seat sat Kelli’s nieces— Rachel, Gail, and Abby, all of whom were absolute best friends. Gail and Abby were fifteen-year-old twins and the daughters of Claire and her husband, Russell, while Rachel was Charlotte’s fifteen-year-old daughter with her now-deceased husband, who she’d lost in a tragic fishing accident years before. The previous November, she’d met a photographer, Everett, at the iconic and forever-memorable wedding for Ursula Pennington, the actress. The three weeks she’d taken to plan it was burned in Kelli’s memory forever. Throughout, Mike had tried to make bets that she wouldn’t pull it off in time. Kelli had resisted, praying only for her baby sister to throw it all together at the last second. And dammit, she had. She was now one of the most talked-about wedding planners from coast to coast. Take that, Mike.

  They found Christine, Susan, Amanda, and Lola already on the back porch, with a gorgeous view of the Vineyard Sound and several already opened bottles of wine between them. Christine glowed from her pregnancy and sipped sparkling water with lemon. Lola bucked up, a bright bolt of energy, and grabbed several more chairs from the side of the porch, arranging them so that everyone else could sit.

  “Mom should be here shortly,” Claire explained. “She wanted to bring clam chowder.”

  “Goodness.
She didn’t have to do that! I thought we’d just order pizza,” Susan exclaimed.

  “You know Mom. She always wants to help out. Especially when it comes to the Sheridans,” Charlotte affirmed. She lifted a bottle and filled a glass for herself, then one for Claire and Kelli. Rachel disappeared and reappeared with cans of sodas for her and the other girls. Although only twenty, Audrey arched an eyebrow and poured herself a glass of wine without pause.

  “Well, we appreciate her. Always have,” Christine admitted.

  Kelli excused herself for a moment for the bathroom. Down the hallway, there was an old photograph of Anna Sheridan, the Sheridan sisters’ mother, who’d passed away many years before. Kelli remembered the bright light of her gorgeous Aunt Anna. She had been endlessly energetic, much like Lola, with all of the beauty of the three of them, somehow combined in one. Her and Wes’s at-times tumultuous marriage and endless commitment to the Sunrise Cove Inn had led her to stray from their marriage and sleep with Stan Ellis, something of a loner on the island. Stan Ellis had been the man behind the wheel of the boat that had crashed the night Anna died. Lola had been eleven, Christine fourteen, and Susan seventeen. Kelli supposed they would never get over it— and it was the reason Kerry was now late, as she still felt she had to be the mother figure for those poor motherless girls.

  Kelli studied herself in the mirror of the bathroom. The mirror itself was a very special antique, that much was clear, and she made a mental note to ask Susan where she’d picked it up. Kelli now considered her own house and how all of the items in it had been hand-selected by Kelli and Mike as a couple. What might she have chosen had she been alone?

  Was it possible to give it all away and start over?

  When Kelli left the bathroom, she found Susan and Charlotte in the kitchen. Susan described the elaborate work Scott and his son had done over the months leading up to their wedding. She beamed as she pointed out each delicate touch and the fine craftsmanship.