The Guestbook

by Andrea Hurst

  “I really don’t want argue with you.”

  “Oh, Mother, I’ve been so stupid…”

  “It’s all right. I’m here, we’ll work this out together,” Katherine said.

  Her mother seemed a different person than she’d carried in her memory all these years. During their last visit Lily had noticed telltale lines around her mother’s eyes and the gray hairs at her temples spoke of aging. But her eyes had always been kind.

  “Thank you, Mom. I didn’t mean to turn on you.”

  “I know, Lily, you’ve been through a lot. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “It’s Brad.” She took a deep breath, pushing back another flood of tears. “I’ve left him.”

  “I see,” her mother said.

  “I know you’ve always disliked him.”

  “It’s not about me, Lily. Are you happy with him?”

  “No, I’m not, not for a long time. I wanted to leave, but I just had no idea what I’d do or where I’d go.”

  “Lily, you’re so smart and talented. You can do anything you want.”

  “If I only knew what I wanted.” Lily remembered how hard her mother had worked to support them after her father walked out. She could start a catering business, but she was so tired of the whole LA scene.

  “So, why don’t you take your alimony and run?”

  “You know Brad. He’ll make my life hell if I try to get a cent from that marriage.”

  “Here in California, there are community property laws.”

  “I just can’t deal with divorce attorneys yet.” Lily closed her eyes, willing all these decisions to disappear. “But I guess I better find one soon.”

  “I’ll put out some feelers for you. You will need one in California. But right now you just need to take care of yourself for a while.”

  Lily laughed. “If I can remember how.”

  Chapter Five

  Two days to herself had given her a chance to catch up on some sleep, but now it was time to see exactly what she had inherited. The plumbing was leaking on the kitchen sink and the house badly needed a painting, on the outside at least. Lily located the office area tucked under the stairs. A computer was on the desk but nothing more. She turned it on and searched for Internet. No connection. For now her cell phone would have to do for checking email. Lily shifted through the items on the desk, searching until she found the brochure. She adjourned to the rocking chair in the parlor to peruse its contents. Madrona Island Bed & Breakfast–Maggie Parkins, Innkeeper. The glossy cover featured a beautiful photo of the Inn framed in a gold leaf oval. The front yard was alive with vibrant color: lilac plants bloomed wild along the path to the entry; scarlet, apricot and yellow Hollyhocks towered against the garden fence, complemented by white daisies. The wraparound porch was adorned with ceramic hanging pots overflowing with cascades of fuchsias in pinks and white. A climbing rose wound its way up a lattice arbor and a tulip tree was in full bloom. The cornflower blue water glistened in the distance and the snowy peaked Olympic Mountains dominated the sky. Underneath this dreamlike picture, in a perfect script, was written:

  Let your worries drift out to sea from our majestic perch on picturesque and romantic Madrona Island.

  Turn of the century country hospitality.

  Inside the brochure was a small snapshot of each room with a brief description. She popped out of the chair and headed upstairs to investigate the rooms firsthand. The first door on the right was labeled the English Lavender Room. She read its description aloud. “This comfy and cozy suite, in lavender and green floral décor, features quaint English teapots, cups, saucers, and lilac bouquets. A white picket fence headboard complements the queen bed and ultra-plush down quilt.” Lily lay back on the bed and sank into its luxurious comfort. She took in the beautiful room, the purple velvet loveseat in front of the fireplace, the dormer window with a sweeping view of mountains through the rose garden. “What a lovely room Grandma created.”

  She rose and continued down the hall to the Peaches n’ Cream Suite. “This fresh and cheerful room offers pale peach walls with butter cream trim,” she read aloud. “Sounds good enough to eat,” she giggled.

  The canopy bed was draped in apricot-tinted satin and accented by hand-embroidered pillows. The sitting area featured a turn-of-the-century fainting couch and an old-fashioned Victrola. She walked over to the window and admired the view of the gardens. “A perfect setting for romance,” the brochure said.

  She reviewed the brochure; the Rose Suite was where she had spent the night on the other side of staircase. Lily stood in the doorway, breathing in the light scent of the petal-filled flower cushions and bouquets of dried roses. It was lovely.

  One more room awaited her discovery, the Honeymoon Suite. This secluded suite, with a sitting area nestled in the round windowed turret, had an impressive hand-carved four-poster bed and a wood-burning fireplace to stay snug and warm. Lily looked out at the outstanding mountain, water, and sunset views from the tower peak. She could see a man and young boy chasing a dog along the ocean shore. The sun peeking through the clouds made it tempting to go outside for a walk and look around.

  She stuck her head into the bathroom. A heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub for two was built under a window facing out to the Sound. A painted sink sat on a ceramic pedestal.

  Lily was transfixed; she actually lived in this enchanting place. She read on about the amenities and then turned to the back of the brochure. Mouthwatering, homemade breakfasts: “Enjoy our specialties–Lavender Orange Stuffed French Toast, Dungeness Crab quiche, Loganberry Honey Scones, and our unique Washington Apple-Stuffed Croissants drizzled with molten caramel.”

  Yumm… Where in the world were these recipes? She hurried down the stairs to scour the kitchen for the recipe box Mary thought was stored there. In a top drawer, she found the old wooden box that she remembered from when she was a little girl.

  “Here it is!”

  She lifted the lid and pulled out a card filled with a handwritten recipe.

  “There are hundreds in here. What a find!” She scanned through the recipes, pulling out several cards to create a grocery list with. “Off to the store, stock up, and have a baking day tomorrow.”

  Lily bundled up in her coat and wool scarf and headed for the car. The air was clean and crisp after the rain, and there were patches of blue in the sky. She navigated her way to the main road and headed up-island to the market. Just as Mary had said, it was easy to find. A quaint hand-painted sign with a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables surrounded by a rainbow heralded the Cascade Country Market. The small exterior was deceiving, Lily soon discovered. Bountiful bins of colorful vegetables and fruits lured her into the produce section. She loaded up the cart with Jonigold apples and juicy-looking pears. The freshly washed arugula would make a splendid salad and omelet filler. The purple potatoes, sweet onions, carrots, and celery would add flavor to a chill-thawing chicken soup. Much of the produce was labeled with the name of a local farm.

  Lily wandered over to the bread section and lightly squeezed Matt’s Killer Sprouted Wheat bread…soft and still slightly warm. Her cart was filling quickly with local raspberry-infused honey, hand-pressed cider, free-range brown speckled eggs, creamy goat cheese mixed with herbs, and a bottle of Island White wine. The rich smell of fresh-ground coffee demanded an about face and a trip down the aisle tantalizing her senses. She picked up the slick, bright-red package with a towering lighthouse on it—Madrona Brew, Fresh Roasted Island Coffee. “A must,” she said as she placed it in the already overflowing basket and headed for the checkout.

  A middle-aged man in a flannel shirt and overalls was humming as he bagged up the groceries for the lady in front of the line. Then he waved Lily in and started unloading her cart.

  “Morning,” he said with a smile. “Did you find everything you need?”

  “Looks like I bought up the whole store!”

  The man continued ringing up the groceries. “Are you visiting?”

&nb
sp; “Well, not quite. Actually, I’m living over at the Madrona Island B&B and plan to do some cooking.”

  “Margaret’s old B&B? You must be her granddaughter, been hearing about you. I’m Dana Hansen, your local grocer, ma’am.” His hearty handshake certainly felt safe and welcoming.

  “Lily.” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that comfortable, especially around a man.

  “Looks like you’re planning on doing some baking too. We sure miss those home-baked brownies that your grandma used to make for us to sell in the bakery. Think you might have some extra?”

  Lily smiled. “Maybe. First I’m just going to do some experimenting, but I’ll bring samples soon.”

  When Dana totaled her bill, she had a moment of pause. For ten years now, she never thought about how much her groceries rang up to. She needed these ingredients to make some products to show Jude. But she better start budgeting after this. Surely, Mary could help her figure something out. She paid in cash and left the store, arms piled with groceries and recipe ideas spinning in her head as she drove the few miles home. Was this a Stepford island, or was everyone really this nice?

  Lily pulled into her driveway, gravel rolling under her tires, and parked in front. As she opened the trunk, she realized she should have driven around to the back door. Heck with it, she thought as she tried to juggle several bags between her arms and shoulders.

  “Can I help you with those, little lady?”

  Lily jumped and almost dropped the groceries. An elderly man reached over and caught a few bags. “I hope I don’t have that effect on all the women,” he said with a broad smile. “Time for introductions, I think. I’m your neighbor next door to the north. McPherson, John McPherson, and this here is my faithful canine companion, Gretel.”

  “I’m Lily,” she said, regaining her composure. She placed the bags on the ground and bent down to pet the large black dog that had come up behind her.

  “Yes, I know. You look a lot like your grandma, and she told me so much about you.” He picked up some of the grocery bags and followed her to the house. “I kinda miss helping around here, and I think Gretel does too. Shall I carry these into the kitchen for you?”

  Lily looked up at his gray hair neatly tucked under a baseball hat and the warm brown eyes encircled by deep smile lines. She thought he was probably close to eighty. This was a good man. Two in one day? She must have left the planet, not just LA.

  “Come on in, Mr. McPherson. I could use the help and some company, to be honest. I’ve just been here a couple of days, wandering around in this big old house, having this great conversation with myself.”

  He chuckled. “I have plenty of those myself with the kids gone and Margaret…” He stopped there and stared at Lily as if he had said something wrong.

  “You knew my grandmother?”

  His gaze dropped to the old floral carpet then up at her again. Sadness crossed his face, making him look old and dimming the light of his smile. “I knew her well, to tell you the truth…I sure loved her.”

  For a moment they just stared at each other. A deep understanding passed between them. “You know, Mr. McPherson, I just went crazy and bought all this food in town, and you would do me a great favor if you would join me for dinner tonight.”

  The smile was back. He stood and tipped his hat. “Would love to, but my grandson and his boy are visiting. They’ll be leaving on Sunday to catch the ferry and head on home.”

  “How about Sunday dinner then, say around five?”

  His smile was contagious. “Sounds like something to look forward to.”

  “Okay, but I must warn you, I’ll be doing some experimenting with recipes and you’ll be the guinea pig.”

  John headed for the door. “Five it is then. See you on Sunday.”

  Lily entered the house and turned up the thermostat in the hall then laid down her purse. She slid her cell phone out to check for messages. One new message. She checked the call record but it said private caller. She put the phone in her pocket and hurried back to the kitchen to put everything away. Flushed with excitement, she tore through the bags, sorting ingredients and putting away a month of supplies. She enjoyed knowing that her biggest decision was what to make for dinner, but not as a mandatory, graded performance like it had been for Brad. Brad…almost a whole day without thinking of him.

  The heater had kept the house warm and welcoming, but a cup of hot tea would be perfect now. She turned on the copper kettle to boil and pulled out her phone to check the voicemail.

  “This is Brad, Lily. I miss you. Are you planning to come home soon? I’d be happy to come up to Washington and bring you back?”

  His voice was sweet, almost purring, but the edge was there. How did he know where she was?

  The message continued, “We can make a little vacation out of it, take the coast route. Call me, you know the number. Today would be good. Love you.”

  Her stomach lurched and her world crumbled. He’d found her in only a few days. How thoughtless she’d been, using her debit card on the way up and in the café. He knew her maiden name, and it was the same as her grandmother’s. It must have been easy to figure she was heading to her Grandmother’s house. The one she’d always talked about.

  Was there nowhere to go that was safe? Hers alone? She pounded on the kitchen counter with both fists. She was no longer his property. This was her home, and she had no intention of going back.

  “He can take his veiled threats and yell them down the toilet for all I care. For once in my life, I’m going to face him head on.”

  Heart beating, pulse racing, Lily dialed Brad’s number. “Answer, darn it, pick up the phone.”

  “This is Brad.”

  “Brad, it’s Lily. I know you already know that. Just listen for once, will you?” She heard his low chuckle and heat raced to her face. “I want you to leave me alone. Neither your threats nor your promises are going to change my mind.”

  It didn’t take much for him to show his true motives. Brad’s voice was cold and steady. “I really don’t care whether you change your mind or not. I don’t want a divorce and if you push me much further, you’ll get nothing, Lily.”

  The kettle boiled furiously and she pulled it off the burner.

  “There are laws to protect me, Brad, and community property. That house is half mine. I lived there for almost ten years.” She thought of every meal she had cooked, every room she had cleaned, painted, decorated, and loved. The rose garden and the koi pond were hers…hers.

  “As usual, you don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart. Not only did you abandon your house and home when you left, but that same law you’re talking about…it says this is not community property. Remember a little thing called a quit claim deed you signed?”

  “You told me it was my home and that we didn’t need to put my name on the deed. You lied, Brad.”

  “It’s your word against mine, and who do you think they’ll believe, Lily? You, who barely worked a day of our marriage? You, who just walked out without giving me a chance to work things out? Or me?”

  If he’d been in front of her, she would have strangled him. “You always did have a way with the truth, a way to twist it so it always suited what you wanted.”

  “Of course, Lily, if you can’t see it my way, my attorney is just waiting for my call. And by the way, I closed our joint checking account,” he said casually, “your debit card will be declined in any further purchases.”

  The room started to spin and she grabbed the nearest chair for balance. Calm down, she told herself, get a grip. “You can’t do that Brad, my name is on it too.”

  “Yes, dear, but I am the primary account holder in this family, and I can do anything I want. Now how about we put this behind us and you just come home.”

  “Don’t call again. I will notify you when I get an attorney and if you have something to say, say it to him!”

  She slammed the phone down with every ounce of strength she had left and tried t
o slow her breath. Thank goodness her mother had helped her put some cash aside. No credit cards, money running out, all assets in Brad’s name, no spousal support yet…it was almost insurmountable. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking stock. She had enough food for quite a while. She had herself, this place, everything would be all right. “He has underestimated his so-called trophy wife this time,” she said aloud.

  She paced the kitchen floor, thinking about all of the gourmet cooking and pastry classes she’d taken; surely they could be her ticket to some kind of income. “I will do what I do best…cook, that’s what I love to do anyway,” she murmured to herself. Jude had asked her about selling baked goods to her café, and the brownies seem to be in high demand.

  First thing I need to do is to find that secret recipe for the incredible brownies Grandma Maggie used to make. Then, I need to get Internet installed. She looked first through the many recipes in the wood box in the kitchen, but none were for brownies. Next she rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cabinets. Having no luck there either, she searched the office desk. Methodically she moved through the inn, opening drawers and closets until she reached her new quarters. In the small office of her bedroom, she rumbled through the file drawers by the desk. There were records for a mail order business for the brownies and the Mt. Rainer cookies, and it looked very lucrative.

  If only she knew her grandmother better, she might know where to find the darned thing. Hand-me-down family recipes could be scarce when you had no contact with your family. Standing by the bed, she scanned the room.

  “Of course!” The mahogany and marble nightstand had an old-fashioned keyhole in the top drawer. Lily gave the drawer a yank, and to her surprise, it slid right open. No recipe, but tucked away in the back of the drawer was a periwinkle-colored, leather-bound book with gold embossed letters on the cover: Guestbook—Madrona Island Bed & Breakfast.

  Lily flopped on the bed and placed the book in her lap. She ran her fingers along the leather surface then opened it, savoring the faint scent of dried lavender. She flipped gingerly through the pages, noting the dated journal entries from the previous years. She could imagine the B&B filled with people, mouthwatering aromas wafting up from the kitchen, guests on the porch sipping tea and watching the sunset. A beautifully scripted entry caught her attention.