Hometown Girl: The Chesapeake Diaries

by Mariah Stewart

  “Really?” Brooke turned around, a smile on her face. “Then it’s just the other things. Mostly the kitchen remodeling and new bath and some cosmetic stuff. I figured I could use some of the money Gramma Madison left me.”

  “You still have some of that?” Hannah asked.

  “Every last dime.”

  “I’ll help you out where I can,” Clay told her.

  “You don’t have to,” Brooke said. “Especially since you already took care of two of the biggies in the wiring and the plumbing. We just need to decide on a fair rent.”

  “If you’re going to pay to upgrade the house, you shouldn’t pay rent.” Clay swiped a finger into the bowl of frosting Brooke had left on the table. “Not if you’re spending your money to improve my property.”

  “We can work something out.” Brooke turned on the mixer. Whatever Clay said as he left the room was lost, so she turned off the appliance and called to him to repeat what he’d said.

  “I said, I’ll call Cameron O’Connor and make an appointment for him to come out and look the place over, give us an estimate for the work. If you’re going to do this, let’s see if we can get it done before the weather turns cold.”

  “That would be great, Clay, thanks. I can’t think of any reason to put off the work.” She paused. “How was the heater?”

  “The heater worked fine. That was replaced, too,” he told her. “But there’s no air-conditioning.”

  “I’ll worry about that next summer.”

  “You might want to have Cam look at the duct work. It might be easier to have everything done at the same time. Less disruption.”

  “Good point.”

  Logan and his friend Cody ran through the kitchen on their way to the backyard. Still wound up from Logan’s birthday party, the two of them were falling all over each other laughing at something only eight-year-old boys could understand. They dashed through the kitchen, then stopped at the back door.

  “Mom, did you make our swords for Halloween?” Logan hung on the doorjamb.

  “Not yet, sweetie. But I will, as soon as I finish these cupcakes.”

  “Hey, I thought I got to make the swords.” Clay came down the back steps from the second floor. “I make way better swords than your mother does.”

  “You think,” Brooke challenged him.

  “I know,” he tossed back then turned to the boys. “We’ll let the guys decide. Who would you rather make your swords, me or your mom?”

  “You!” both boys cried.

  “Sorry, sis.” Clay looked smug as he ushered the boys out the back door.

  “I bow before your superior sword-making ability,” Brooke called as the back door slammed behind him. She glanced at the clock then counted the number of cupcakes she’d finished and figured out how many more she had to make. She groaned and promised herself that the new kitchen in the tenant house would have that second oven for sure.

  “Isn’t Halloween the coolest holiday ever?” Logan slid his eye patch over his head and covered his right eye. He swung his cardboard aluminum-foil-covered sword as he dashed through the kitchen, his free hand curved over his head. “Uncle Clay taught me and Cody how to duel. You do it like this.” He demonstrated his newly learned technique.

  “Quite impressive.” Brooke nodded as she stacked the unused pastry boxes and put them into the pantry, remembering the previous weekend’s debacle in front of Vanessa’s house. Thinking about those bouncing boxes of cupcakes made her think of Jesse. Twice this week when she went into Cuppachino in the morning, Grace mentioned that he’d just left.

  She wondered if she’d run into him at the parade later this morning. He did say he’d be going.

  “We practiced with our swords a lot last night,” Logan was saying. “We showed Cody’s mom when Uncle Clay drove Cody home from my birthday party. Cody’s mom was impressed, too. So was his aunt Berry. She said we looked like real swashbucklers.” He paused. “What’s a swashbuckler?”

  “A pirate who knows how to duel really really well,” she told him.

  Logan nodded. “That’s us. And she said we looked just like Earl … I don’t know, Earl somebody.”

  “Errol Flynn?”

  “Maybe.” Logan shrugged. “Can we go now?”

  “Yes. Just give me a minute to brush my hair and maybe put a little makeup on.” She pulled the elastic from her ponytail.

  “You don’t need makeup, Mom. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

  “Who told you to say that?”

  “Uncle Clay.”

  Brooke laughed and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time. She washed her face and ran a brush through her hair, then got out the mascara. No need for eye shadow or blush, just maybe a little color to the lips. She stood in front of the mirror and took a good look. When had she started to look so tired? Where had those circles under her eyes come from? She started to look for concealer, but it had been so long since she’d bothered, she couldn’t remember where she might have put it.

  “Mom!” Logan called up the steps. “I think we should go now.”

  “I’ll be right down.” Brooke took a second look, decided that it was going to take more than a little concealer, and said the hell with it. She pulled off the T-shirt she’d been working in all morning and tossed it in the direction of her overflowing hamper. She’d been so busy with her cupcakes all week that she hadn’t gotten to her laundry. She rummaged through the pile for a sweatshirt, found one she’d worn a few days ago, then went into the bathroom and ran cold water, hoping to remove the little bit of chocolate frosting that she’d gotten on one sleeve.

  “Brooke, the parade starts at eleven,” Clay called to her as he passed by her room. “We need to leave now if you want to ride up with me.”

  “Coming, coming.” She grabbed a ribbon from the top drawer of her dresser and sat on the edge of her bed to put on her walking shoes. On her way down the steps, she tied the ribbon around her ponytail and grabbed a jacket she’d left on the newel post in case it got cooler later in the afternoon.

  “Here I am,” she announced as she came into the kitchen.

  “Let’s go. Move it.” Clay attempted to hustle her toward the door.

  “Wait! I want to get my camera so I can take some pictures of the boys in their costumes,” Brooke called to her brother.

  “I have mine.” Hannah came into the kitchen behind her. “Go.”

  “All right. Everyone’s in such a damned hurry this morning,” Brooke grumbled.

  “Brooke, are you sure you want to wear that sweatshirt?” her mother asked. “Perhaps you should change—”

  “We’re only going to a parade.” Brooke frowned. “Besides, everyone’s been hustling me along for the past ten minutes. We don’t have time for me to change. Anyway, I haven’t done laundry in a week and I don’t think I have anything else to wear.”

  “She doesn’t have time to change,” Clay called from the back porch. “She looks fine.”

  “You know there’s chocolate on the sleeve …” Hannah held the door and waited till Brooke went past her before closing it.

  “What’s the big deal?” Brooke climbed into the backseat of Clay’s SUV and sat next to Logan, who was busy strapping himself in.

  “As soon as we get to town, we can line up for the parade, right?” Logan asked. “I’m supposed to meet Cody right by Scoop.”

  “How convenient,” Brooke muttered. “No ice cream until after the parade.”

  “What if we get boiling hot? What if we get so hot we start to sweat?”

  “You can drink some water.” Brooke helped straighten Logan’s eye patch. “Steffie always has cold water.”

  “Maybe after the parade we can have ice cream?”

  “You betcha,” Brooke told him. “But only after. You would not want to dribble ice cream on that very cool pirate shirt.”

  Logan looked down at the bright red shirt. “No, I would not want to do that.”

  They had to circumvent the center
of town because of the parade route and park on a side street several blocks away.

  “Good thing you made your deliveries earlier,” Hannah noted as they walked to Charles Street. “Those boxes of cupcakes would be getting mighty heavy right about now.”

  “It’s almost eleven,” Brooke replied. “I’ll bet half of those cupcakes have been sold by now. Carlo says they never last past noon at Cuppachino.”

  “Then maybe you’re not making enough,” Clay told her.

  “I think once school is over for me in December, I’ll have more time to bake. And by then I should be able to assess how many I need to make in a week.” And by then, with luck, I should have that second oven, she reminded herself.

  The streets of St. Dennis were crowded with every manner of ghoul and ghost, vampire and werewolf, witch and warlock. And pirate. Logan was distressed to count seven pirates on their way to registering for the parade.

  “I thought me and Cody would be the only pirates,” he grumbled.

  “Pirates are very popular this time of year.” Jesse walked up behind Brooke. “It’s been a favorite costume for years.”

  “Logan, do you remember Mr. Enright?”

  “Uh-huh.” Logan nodded. “Were you ever a pirate?”

  “Actually, I was a pirate once. But I didn’t have an eye patch like you have.” Jesse smiled at Brooke. “Nice touch.”

  “You and Cody will be the only pirates with perfect swords,” Clay noted.

  Logan stopped dead in his tracks and his face went white.

  “My sword! I don’t have my sword!” he wailed.

  “Where did you leave it?” Brooke asked.

  “In the car!”

  “I’ll run back and get it. You stay right here. I won’t have time to go looking for you.” Clay turned and took off.

  Cody ran up to meet Logan, who continued to wail about his missing sword.

  “But Clay went to get it for you,” Brooke reminded him. She waved at Dallas, who’d stopped to chat with one of the parents from the boys’ class.

  “What if he doesn’t get back in time?” Logan continued.

  “He’ll be back,” she assured him. “He’s pretty darned fast.”

  Brooke turned to Jesse. “This is what passes for excitement in St. Dennis.”

  “Hey, I love a little drama before a good parade,” he replied. “Check out those little ones dressed up like pumpkins in the wheelbarrow.”

  “Looks like a perfect pumpkin patch to me.” Brooke smiled at the man who was pushing the wheelbarrow. “Are they all yours?” She pointed to the children who were all dressed exactly alike, in puffy orange costumes.

  “Three are mine, the rest are neighbors’,” the man replied as he headed toward the registration table.

  “Mom, we have to do that, too.” Logan tugged on her sleeve. “We have to sign up.”

  “We’ll do that when Clay gets back. I think we need to wait right here. This is where he’ll be looking for us.”

  “What if we’re too late and they don’t let us in the parade?” He pointed to the three sports cars at the head of the parade, their drivers looking ready to roll.

  “I keep trying to get Dallas’s attention but she’s deep in conversation,” Brooke said. “She could sign the boys up while I wait for Clay. I don’t think she realizes that the parade will be starting soon.”

  “How ’bout I take the boys over to the registration table while you wait here for Clay,” Jesse suggested. “He’ll be looking for you in the crowd, not me.”

  “Do you mind? They can sign themselves up. I just don’t like them wandering around alone in a crowd this large.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Jesse turned to the boys. “Let’s go, guys. I bet by the time we get back, Clay will be here with Logan’s sword and you’ll be good to go.”

  “We practiced dueling last night and you know what …” Logan’s voice trailed off as Jesse shepherded the two boys to the registration table.

  Brooke folded her arms over her chest and scanned the crowd for her brother. The municipal parking lot was crowded as more and more parade entrants began to gather. The sun was warm on the back of Brooke’s neck, and she slipped off the denim jacket. She frowned at the smear of chocolate she’d been in too much of a hurry to wash out completely. She twisted the sleeve slightly, hoping it would be less noticeable. She turned toward the registration area in time to see Jesse making his way through the crowd with the boys. He was, she noted wryly, much better dressed than she was. Khakis and a rust-colored cotton crewneck sweater, dark glasses … did noticing just how very good he looked make her shallow?

  By the time she spotted Clay jogging through the crowd, Jesse and the two boys had just caught up to her.

  “Perfect timing,” she told him.

  “Don’t put it down someplace and leave it.” Clay handed over the sword to Logan, then leaned over, his hands on his knees, to catch his breath. “Hi, Jesse.”

  “Hey, Clay.” Jesse stood next to Brooke and watched the boys show off their sword-fighting skills. “Nice job, guys.”

  “Everyone’s starting to line up.” Logan pointed to the crowd that was starting to ease in the direction of the lead cars.

  “Let’s go!” Cody started off, dragging Logan with him.

  “Cody, hold up.” Brooke addressed both boys. “Wait for me.”

  “You don’t have to go with them, Brooke.” Clay straightened up. “I’m going to tag along.”

  “You’re going to be in the parade, too?” Cody asked.

  “No. I’m going to be on the sidelines and I’ll bring you back to Scoop when it’s over.” Clay turned to Brooke. “I ran into Grant up on Charles Street. He and I will watch the boys over the course of the parade route. Why don’t you just stroll on up to the judges’ stand? That’s going to be the only really good view because the crowd is so large this year. You’ll probably see Dallas up there. Grant said Berry was reserving some seats. Besides, someone needs to show Jesse the ropes. I’ll bet he hasn’t been to one of our Halloween Parades.”

  Clay glanced at Jesse as if for confirmation.

  Jesse nodded. “This is my first.”

  “See? He’s going to need someone to interpret some of our St. Dennis traditions. So you don’t need to play eagle eye with the boys. Go on, the kids and I will meet you after the parade.”

  “Okay, thanks, if you’re sure …” she began, but Clay was already off with the kids.

  “Think we’ll be able to make it through this crowd to Charles Street in time to see the parade?” Jesse asked.

  “We’ll miss a good part of it.” Brooke touched his arm. “I know a great shortcut. Follow me …”

  They made their way around the back of the crowd to a worn dirt path that led up a slight hill.

  “I used to walk home from school this way,” she told him as they started up the incline.

  “After a stop at Scoop?”

  “Scoop wasn’t even a twinkle in Stef’s eye back then. Her building used to be a crabber’s shack that was owned by someone in her family. Uncle, grandfather, I forget which. Stef always knew she wanted her own ice-cream shop one day, and when there was talk about tearing the shack down, she asked if she could have it.” She stopped for a moment to search her bag for her sunglasses, slid them on, then resumed the climb. “She totally renovated it, mostly by herself.”

  “That sounds like one determined woman.”

  “I’ll say. That was all she ever wanted, and she made it happen. I admire her for that.”

  “How’s her story so different from yours?”

  “What do you mean?” Brooke was grateful they were nearing the top of the path. She was getting out of breath and starting to sweat in the strong October sun.

  “Steffie had a vision for owning her own business. So do you. I see you both working for what you want.”

  “I haven’t succeeded yet,” she reminded him.

  “I don’t know.” He took her arm at the end of the path
as if to help her up the bit of last slope. “I seem to see those cupcakes of yours everywhere I go in St. Dennis. And I have to say that the ones I sampled were pretty darned good.”

  “You bought them?”

  “Of course I bought them. I had two at Vanessa’s party last week and got hooked on them. I’ve had to add time to my workouts just so that I don’t have to cut back on my consumption of cupcakes.”

  Jesse followed Brooke through a parking area behind the stores that faced Charles Street.

  “Which reminds me. My grandfather is going to be eighty-five in two weeks, and I’m thinking it might be nice to have a little party for him. I think he’d rather have cupcakes than a cake. Would you be interested in doing the baking?”

  “That’s a really nice idea and I’d be happy to take on the job. How many people are you thinking about inviting?”

  “Ahhh … I don’t know.”

  “So what’s his favorite flavor? Chocolate? Yellow cake? White?”

  “Ahhh … I’m not sure.”

  “Well, we can always make several kinds. I can e-mail you with a list of the different flavors I make and you can pick a few you think he might like if you don’t want to ask him outright.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Thanks.”

  “But you’ll have to let me know how many people you’ll be serving.” They reached Charles Street and turned to the left where the judging stand and bleachers had been erected on the side of the road. “You do have a guest list, right?”

  “Not exactly.” Jesse looked mildly uncomfortable. “I thought I’d ask my uncle Mike for some suggestions, but he’s taken my aunt down to Baltimore for some tests and I didn’t want to bother him.”

  “Maybe I can give you a hand with that,” she told him as she took his hand and led him toward the bleachers. “Berry has been a client of your grandfather’s forever and is a contemporary of his, so she might know. And there’s always Violet.”

  “You had to bring her up.” Jesse grimaced. “And the day was going so well, too …”

  Brooke laughed. “It was just a suggestion. She probably knows better than anyone who your granddad’s friends are.”

  “Probably.” He was still grimacing.