The Chesapeake Bride

by Mariah Stewart

  “Want me to see if I can help?”

  “Nah. At this point, it’s easier to sweat. I don’t plan on working too much longer. I have some things in the car I want to drop off at the cottage.”

  Cass’s eyes were drawn back to the easel.

  Lis followed her gaze. “Yeah. My brother. He’s really hard to capture. He has so many expressions. It’s been a real trial for me, trying to get him right. I thought I’d give it to Gigi. Owen’s gone so often and she doesn’t say much, but I know she misses him every day he’s away.”

  Cass stepped closer, her eyes on the portrait. “You’re really good. I can almost see that little bit of snark in his expression.”

  Lis laughed. “Nice way to put it. Yeah, he has that, but there’s more to him, and it’s that more I’m having trouble with.” She turned her gaze to Cass. “I guess you know what I mean. You seem to be spending a lot of time with him.”

  “Not so much.”

  “Oh, please. Just about every time I see you, you’re together.”

  “I don’t see you all that often.”

  “Ha. I don’t blame you for denying you’re seeing him. I wouldn’t admit to it, either.”

  “I’m not denying anything. I’m just saying that I’m not seeing him. Not really.”

  “Would you please listen to yourself?” Lis rolled her eyes. “Total denial of a provable fact. The proof being he took you to dinner at Emily Hart’s.”

  “Well, yes, but it was only so I could hear some of Ruby’s stories for a booklet I’m thinking of putting together. Which is actually why I wanted to—”

  “He took you crabbing.”

  “He was sort of appalled that I planned on being an islander but had never been crabbing before, but look, the reason—”

  “He took you on a tour of Chestertown and took you on the Contessa.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And—and this one is the biggie—he brought you to dinner here.” Lis smiled with apparent satisfaction at having made her case. “And he cooked.”

  “So what? We caught crabs, I didn’t know how to cook them, he did.” Cass opened her hands, palms up, assuming she’d proven her point. “What’s the big deal?”

  “In all my memory, Owen has never brought anyone here for dinner. Feel free to check with Ruby if you remain the skeptic.”

  “That can’t be true. He must have at least brought his wife . . . his ex-wife.”

  “He told you about her? Hmmm. Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “He never talks about her anymore. Which is just as well. It wasn’t a good time in his life.”

  “He said the divorce wasn’t particularly hostile.”

  “No, but it still wasn’t good for Owen. I think he tried to be what he thought he should be, and he failed, and it made him think less of himself.”

  “Wow. That’s heavy.” Cass sat on one of two wooden chairs that stood near the double windows that offered a glorious view of the island and the bay off to the right.

  “I know. We all worried about him. I think he thought the fact he couldn’t be a good husband meant he was going to be too much like our father, after all the years he tried to be the exact opposite. I don’t think it occurred to him that he wasn’t the right husband because she wasn’t the right wife. Anyone who knew them could see that. They weren’t just mismatched, they were just plain wrong for each other, but he blamed himself when it didn’t work out.”

  “Heavier even still. He said he thought it hadn’t been a good idea from the get-go,” Cass said softly. “And he told me your father . . . had issues.”

  “That’s a kind way of putting it.” Lis snorted. “But there you go. Another point for my side. I can’t believe he told you about our dad.”

  “It was just a casual conversation, Lis. Don’t read anything into it.”

  “You don’t get it. There are two things Owen hates to talk about, his failed marriage and our father. He told you about both.”

  “I really don’t think it means anything. We’re just friends. He’s been helping me with the gravesites I’ve been trying to clean up, and he’s taught me how to use some of the tools I’ve needed. That’s all.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, girlfriend.” Lis sat in the other chair, and the two women stared at each other for a moment. “So what did you have on your mind today, besides your relationship with my brother?”

  Cass decided to ignore the comment about her relationship with Owen and focus on her purpose in being here. “Grace mentioned you were thinking about writing a book of Ruby’s stories.”

  Lis nodded. “I had her tell me some of the family tales, which I recorded, but I haven’t had time to do anything with them. I wanted to put them together into a book of some sort when I could get to it.” Lis looked around the room. “As you can see, I’ve been busy. There’s something about being here on the island, and here in this place where my great-grandparents lived for so long, that seems to have opened the creative portals. I paint every day, and some days I feel I could go nonstop into the next day and the next. Of course”—she smiled—“Alec would have something to say about that.”

  “Funny you should say that about feeling creative. I keep coming up with one great idea after another for our building project. Not just designs for the houses, but ideas for marketing and promotions that tie in to the island’s history. It’s like every time I hear about something that’s connected to the island’s past, I want to incorporate it into what we offer our buyers.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like writing a little booklet for each homebuyer and telling them about the family that built the original home. Putting together a cookbook with local recipes. Telling the legends that’ve been passed down through the years.” Cass smiled. “Making the little graveyards look pretty so people won’t think it’s weird to have a few generations of another family buried in their front yard.”

  “Ah, that’s a tough one.” Lis laughed. “But I have no doubt that if anyone could make that seem like everyday, no big deal, that would be you.”

  “That’s my goal. And the reason I wanted to talk to you was to see if you wanted to collaborate on a book about the island. You know, the stories you’ve collected from Ruby over the years. It would be a shame to see them lost.”

  “I agree. That’s why I started recording them. But ours wasn’t the only family that moved here during ‘the crossing’—that’s how Ruby sometimes refers to the time our family and others were kicked out of St. Dennis. I was thinking how cool it would be to talk to some of the others on the island—maybe even some people who have moved away—and get their stories, but I don’t have time.”

  “I have time. I’m not a native islander—right now, I’m not even an islander, but I will be as soon as I have a house. I could collect some stories.”

  “I could make copies of my recordings for you.” Lis picked at a spot of paint on her forearm. “Maybe we could work on something together. I’d thought of using some of my paintings of places on the island along with the stories. You know, like the cottage on the point. I have a painting I did before the renovations started.” Lis got up and went to a portfolio on the table. After shuffling through the contents, she held up the work she was looking for.

  “Lis, it’s magical.” Cass’s jaw all but dropped. Lis had perfectly captured the essence of the old cottage with its half-hung shutters and sagging porch, the overgrown vegetation that reached to the roof, the window glass that was too dingy to reflect what little sunlight came through the towering pines. The cottage looked abandoned, but waiting, and in that was the magic. “No wonder you have galleries in New York fighting for the right to exhibit your work.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I read it in an article in one of the old St. Dennis Gazettes at the inn.”

  “The painting’s not for sale.” Lis held it up. “None of the work I did around the island will ever be for sale. It’s going to han
g in the cottage, and in the store downstairs where Ruby can look at it every day, and someday in Owen’s house when he realizes he’s meant to be here. At least, Ruby predicts that’s going to happen.” Lis returned the painting to the portfolio.

  “I don’t think that’s what Owen has in mind.”

  “Owen can kick and scream and protest all he wants, but Ruby knows what’s coming. She won’t always say, but she knows. If she says he’s sticking around, he’s sticking around.” Lis grinned.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I was under the impression he was only here because Jared asked him to dive with him.”

  “So he says. Just remember where you heard it first.”

  “Marking the date and time in my memory. So. What other places around the island did you paint?”

  “Take a look.” Lis gestured to the portfolio and stepped back.

  Cass went to the table and began to look through the paintings, her awe for Lis’s talent growing. “These are remarkable. Here’s the general store. Ruby’s garden. Emily Hart’s Victorian porch?”

  When Lis nodded, Cass continued going through the portfolio. “One of the old chapels. Oh, another of the chapels.” Cass smiled. “Looks like you did all three. I can’t tell them apart, but I vaguely recall the stories of ministers who couldn’t get along, so they each built their own chapel. Oh, here’s the bridge to St. Dennis. And the pier at sunset. Perfect.” Cass paused for a moment. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to sell any of them, but what if you made prints to sell to the new homebuyers?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I was just thinking of maybe using them in whatever sort of book I ended up doing. Obviously I haven’t given as much thought to this as I could have.”

  “You’ve been busy planning a wedding. You’re excused.”

  “Maybe we could sell the prints, display them down at the art center. Maybe even photograph the befores and afters for each new homebuyer. Heck, if I had time, it would be very cool to paint the befores. Some of those ruins have a certain beauty. And we could use the proceeds to fund the restoration of the chapels.”

  “Great idea. I wasn’t sure what could be done about those properties. They’re eyesores, quite bluntly.”

  “They are. I don’t know who owns them. I’d say check the deeds, but I’m not sure where you might find them. Cannonball Island isn’t known for such formalities as property deeds. I understand that these days, it’s made things tough for the state and county tax collectors. I can check the county tax records.”

  “I think my dad already did that. There were a lot of properties that didn’t even show up on the books.”

  Lis drank the rest of the water in her bottle and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Cass got the feeling that was Lis’s way of saying she was ready to go back to work.

  “Well, I’ll let you get on with what you’re doing.” Cass took one last look at the incomplete portrait of Owen on the easel.

  “Do you think he’ll like it? The fact that I painted him?”

  “I think he’ll be flattered. I think he’ll be pleased, whether he admits it or not.”

  “I hope so. Oh, look at this one.” Lis went to the row of framed paintings that stood facing the wall and selected one and held it up.

  “Oh, my God, it’s Ruby! It’s her to a T. Right down to that tiny mole next to her right eye and the wisps of hair that always come free from her bun. Oh, and the eyes. They couldn’t be more right if this were a photograph. Has she seen it yet?”

  Lis shook her head. “I was thinking of unveiling it at the exhibit next month at the art center. I wasn’t planning on taking any of my other works. Just this one.” Tears were in Lis’s eyes when she turned to Cass. “She’s the most beautiful woman I ever knew, and I wasn’t sure I could do her justice.”

  “You have. You definitely have. I think she’ll be thrilled.”

  “I hope so. Owen and Alec both think I should show her before the unveiling, but I think she knows about it.” Lis smiled. “You know how she knows things without being told.”

  “She said changes were coming, so I guess she knows something.”

  “When did she say that?” Lis returned the painting to its place near the wall.

  “Just a while ago, before I came upstairs.”

  Lis shook her head. “It could mean anything. She could mean because of my wedding.”

  “That’s probably it. Hey, thanks for the time.” Cass turned toward the door.

  “Sure. My pleasure. I’ll get a copy of those recordings for you.” Lis walked Cass to the door of the studio. “I’ll see you at the wedding, if not sooner. You are coming, right?”

  “Yes.” Cass hesitated. “Actually, I’m going as Owen’s date.”

  “Really?” A smile spread across Lis’s face. “And you didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “Of course it did.”

  Cass was in the hall and almost to the steps when, without having planned it in advance, she turned to Lis. “What was she like? Owen’s wife?”

  “Cyndi was all right. A lot of fun. Easygoing. Liked a good time.” Lis shrugged. “She was his girl when it was convenient for him. He was a rat that way. If she was dating someone else when he came back from one of his adventures, she’d drop the other guy to be at his beck and call. That whole routine would have grown old real fast for me, but she didn’t seem to mind. At least not when they were younger. But when they got to closing in on thirty, I guess she figured it was fish or cut bait. I never did know what she said to make him fish, but eventually he married her. I think he tried to be happy, tried to make her happy. But he’s got those restless feet, you know? Couldn’t settle down, though I think he thought he could. They’d been friends for a long time, and I think he felt he was letting her down, but he had a chance to go to Alaska, so he went. He thought he’d be gone about a month, but it lasted almost a year. She started the divorce proceedings after he’d been gone about six weeks because she was smarter than the rest of us had given her credit for. She and Owen didn’t fight about it. It was just one of those things neither of them should have done, and they both probably knew it, but they did it anyway.”

  “That’s pretty much in line with what he told me.” Cass started down the steps.

  Lis walked to the staircase and leaned on the railing. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think his feet are as restless as they used to be.”

  “Good to know.” Cass started down the steps. “By the way, what did Cyndi look like?”

  “Really pretty. Tall. Long legs. Incredible body. Real pretty face. All the guys in town fell all over her.” Lis smiled wryly. “For all the obvious reasons.”

  “What color hair did she have?”

  “Oh, she was blond. A tall, leggy blonde.”

  A tall, leggy blonde. The phrase repeated over and over in Cass’s head as she drove back to the inn. That was a pretty accurate description of the woman in Bling. The tall, leggy blond woman whose last name was Parker. How could that be a coincidence?

  Still, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, was it? Common name. Lots of women are tall and blond. Lots of tall blond women could very well be named Parker. Maybe the woman was married to a cousin.

  The child in the woman’s arms had looked to be about a year and a half old. Owen said they’d been divorced for about two years.

  Do the math, Cassidy.

  She knew in her heart that Owen wouldn’t have looked her in the eye and lied about something as important as having a child. So it had to be a coincidence or someone married to a relative of the Parkers’. Nothing else made sense.

  Whatever the answer was, she’d put it aside for now. It was almost four, and time for tea with Grace at the inn. If nothing else, she could look forward to some pleasant conversation and some tasty treats, and maybe she’d come away with yet another compelling marketing idea to add to her growing list of things to do.

  Chapter Ten
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br />   Cass spent the next few days focused on work. She’d spoken with her father and they’d agreed to start clearing the sites they’d bought and begin to tear down those small houses that couldn’t be salvaged. She made a schedule and emailed her father a list of properties where the demolition could start right away. He called her in response, happy to hear that at least some progress was going to be made.

  “Your mom and I are driving down on Friday. We booked a room for the night at that inn where you’re staying.”

  “You got a room at the last minute? You’re lucky. They’re usually booked solid. Someone must have canceled for the weekend.”

  “Not the weekend, just Friday night. We’re supposed to be going somewhere on Saturday, I forget where. One of those invitations your mother says yes to and tells me about later.”

  Cass called down to the reservation desk and reserved a room for her parents, then emailed instructions to the job foreman, Ted Sterling. She’d worked with him several times before and he knew she’d be on-site to make sure things were being done to the letter. She had few concerns about the quality of the work when things were in Ted’s hands, but she’d had run-ins with him in the past over her authority. He never failed to make her feel she should have been born male if she wanted to have her hands on the construction end of her father’s business. While she always made it a point to try to start fresh with him on every new job, sooner or later he’d say something to get under her skin. She was certain he believed she ran back to her father every time, though she never had. She’d be the first one on the job site when he arrived on Wednesday morning.

  “Getting a Dumpster over that bridge is going to be dicey,” Ted told her when she met him at the property she’d designated lot number one. “They’re pretty heavy.”

  “Maybe we won’t need a Dumpster. Maybe we can use pickup trucks. I plan on using a lot of the material from the takedown houses in the new construction, so whatever is salvageable is going to stay right on-site.”

  “You do know that’s going to triple—quadruple—the time to take these places apart if my guys have to go board by board, brick by brick?” He tried to mask his displeasure, but she wasn’t deaf to the undertone, a mixture of annoyance and impatience. “Which means it’s gonna cost you more than you planned.”