They set out for Henry’s, navigating through the swarm of pedestrians and making a wide berth around the pie-eating contest on the sidewalk in front of a bakery. Drew noticed that most of the contestants were teenage boys and chuckled.
“Some things haven’t changed here,” Grace said. “The rubber duck race was my thing but this was always Ben’s and...”
“And?”
“Brandon’s,” she finally said.
“I admit to loving church potluck suppers back home,” he said, filling in the silence that followed. “There were no eating contests but always lots of homemade pies and other treats.”
“I remember some of those social events, too.” She sighed. “It’s funny how childhood attractions lose meaning once you’re an adult.”
That observation might have led to a good discussion, Drew was thinking, if they were somewhere else rather than on a side street filled with July Fourth revelers. They finally emerged onto the far end of Main Street, past the marina where the paved road reverted to sand and the public beach.
Grace turned onto a street leading up from the beach road. As he followed, Drew caught sight of the solitary lighthouse, detached from the town’s festivities. Henry’s bungalow was the third house in from the corner and although it faced the water, there were other one-story dwellings in between. It was a pretty wood-framed bungalow with a pale gray painted exterior set off by cobalt blue shutters, door and window trim.
“Nice,” he said as he stepped up onto the small porch with an overhang and two wicker rocking chairs. He pictured Henry sitting there, pondering the world and all its problems. He dug into his jeans pocket for the key and handed it to Grace. As soon as she opened the door a gray-and-white object streaked between their legs.
“Uh-oh,” Grace muttered.
“Felix?”
She nodded glumly.
“Guess that talk will have to wait,” Drew said. He couldn’t be sure, but thought her expression brightened a bit.
CHAPTER NINE
“IS HE AN indoor or outdoor cat?”
Drew looked worried so Grace put him at ease. “Indoor, and he’s escaped before. I’ll leave some water on the porch, but I bet he’ll be mewing at the door when he’s hungry.”
“Okay.”
He sounded doubtful. “There’s not much road traffic up here. He’ll be fine,” she added.
Grace stepped inside and moved from the small entryway into the cozy living room, where she whisked back the curtains Henry had left closed to keep the place cooler.
“Make yourself at home,” she told Drew as she carried his bag of food items into the kitchen. She picked up the note Henry had left on the kitchen table and returned to find Drew studying Henry’s collection of Civil War toy soldiers in a glass display cabinet mounted on a wall in the living room.
“I see more evidence of Henry’s interest in history as well as bird-watching.” He gestured to the stack of books on the small table set between a recliner chair and a two-seat sofa.
“I think he’s taken up cooking, too, because he was asking me about cookbooks last week.” She held out the note. “Here’s his info about the cottage. It’s a pretty basic place so I don’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding things. He made up the bed in the guest room down the hall.”
He took it from her but didn’t read it. Instead he kept his eyes on her.
“Do you want a quick look around or...”
“Maybe the talk and then we can enjoy the rest of the day,” he said as he sat down on the sofa.
Grace hesitated. She felt a bit like Goldilocks. The big recliner was too big—she pictured herself disappearing between its fake leather arms—while the small sofa was definitely too intimate. “Maybe outside on the porch? Where we can get some fresh air?”
His indifferent shrug almost prompted her to ask him to forget the talk entirely and go back into town for some fun. She suddenly thought of Cassie Fielding and Ella Jacobs from that long-ago summer. They would have said exactly that.
He followed her out onto the porch, and for a few minutes they sat quietly, taking in the salty air tinged with a hint of decomposing kelp and the sound of waves crashing onto the beach beyond the rows of cottages and bungalows across from Henry’s. He was waiting for her to begin. She liked that. It made him seem calm and unhurried. Something she herself wasn’t feeling at that moment.
“My family doesn’t know about my plan.”
He looked from the view to her but said nothing.
“I imagine you figured that out pretty quickly.”
That brought a brief nod. Grace stifled a rise of irritation. As much as she hated being grilled by her father, this patient silence was almost as maddening. “I haven’t told them because I didn’t see the point, considering it may not happen. The memorial I mean. And yes,” she went on, seeing he was about to interject, “I know that I could still erect a plaque at the site even without the lighthouse. But I don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”
She gazed across the street and at the bay beyond. “Nothing can bring my cousin back. No memorial plaque and not even the lighthouse restoration can ease the pain and grief my family—especially Brandon’s—have suffered.” She took a deep breath and turned to face him, hoping she could hold back the tears. “His family will never forget him.”
Another breath. “Brandon drowned because he went to the lighthouse and got trapped by the tide. It should be kept as a symbol for him.” She slowly enunciated her last words. “I want the town to remember where and how he died.” What she didn’t add was her own need to see that tangible reminder of Brandon.
“I get that,” he eventually said in a low voice, “and perhaps this is a good time to tell you what I recommended in my report. The lighthouse is no longer a viable beacon in the Cove, but it obviously has a place in its history. We’re going to definitely decommission it and if it passes a structural test by a qualified engineer, it won’t need to be torn down. The Guard could then offer it for sale to the town or to a group in town.”
Words and worry tumbled out from her. “That’s wonderful, Drew! I’m so happy and Henry and the whole Historical Society will be thrilled. Thank you so much.”
“Well...uh...look...it has to pass the test. That’s a big ‘if.’”
“I’m sure it will. Do we organize that, or what?”
“The Guard will. We have people who inspect the towers and lighthouse stations fairly regularly. Though obviously not this one,” he added with a light snort.
“How long will all that take? The inspection and so on, once you’ve made your official report.”
“A few weeks for the first part but as for the start of any restoration—assuming it’s okayed—that could take several months. And to reiterate, Grace, I think you should be prepared for the very real possibility that it won’t pass.”
Her dismay must have been obvious as he quickly added, “As for the time span after a possible approval, the job would be outsourced to private contractors.”
“Like my dad’s company?”
“Um, I don’t know about that. It’s not up to me who they hire for the job.”
“But they could do it. I mean, they’re right here in town. They could even do the inspection. I can talk to my brother and—”
He put his hand on her arm. “Best not to get ahead of yourself, Grace.”
She knew he was right. In fact, she was now cursing her breathless rush of excitement. But it was hard not to show what she was feeling about his decision. “Of course,” was what she said, but what she was thinking was a whole other matter.
“Do you want to get settled now and then maybe we could meet up for dinner?” Grace got up.
“Speaking of dinner. Your mother invited me for tomorrow night.”
Grace sat back down. She had a feeling what he was ab
out to mention. “Um, yes. That’s right.”
“Are you planning to tell them about the lighthouse beforehand?”
“I...um... I haven’t thought about that. Does it matter?”
“Actually, it does matter. To me. I don’t want to be put in the kind of situation I was in earlier today, having to watch everything I say or avoiding any reference that might tie me to the lighthouse.”
When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Are you worried about their reaction?”
How could he know me so well, after mere days? She nodded.
“It’s your call, but what difference would it make whether you tell them now or in a week or so?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
She wanted to, but there was so much she couldn’t—wouldn’t—tell him. “I’d rather wait until everything’s approved. I don’t want to upset them unnecessarily.”
“Don’t you think enough time has passed since your cousin’s death? Maybe they’ll be pleased about a memorial to him.”
“Maybe.” She paused. “The other problem is that I don’t know how Brandon’s own family will react. His sister and mother. As I told you, our side doesn’t see much of them.”
“Okay, but as I said, I’m not willing to be part of any cover-up. If someone asks me directly about why I’m here, I’ll have to be honest. Are you prepared for that?”
The excitement she felt minutes ago fizzled out. She didn’t know how she’d field any awkward questions at dinner tomorrow, but now she knew how Drew would handle them. She respected his integrity. Perhaps he was one of those people who viewed circumstances in life as good or bad; right or wrong; black or white. If so then she knew for certain she’d never be able to reveal everything about Brandon’s death. It was a story she could barely recount to herself.
* * *
DREW WAS GRATEFUL for a chance to be alone. After the uncomfortable conversation with Grace he needed to sift out his impressions from hard facts. They’d come to some kind of agreement, although he was beginning to think understanding Grace Winters was in itself a paradox. She was basically incomprehensible.
But she’d agreed that if any questions about his presence in the Cove or his occupation arose, she would do the explaining. He wasn’t happy with that compromise—felt it was totally unnecessary—but he realized it was important to her. He guessed that there was a lot more to the parents’ upset than Grace was admitting and wondered when—or if—he’d ever know the whole story.
Drew aimed for a lighter note as Grace was getting ready to leave and he asked if they could have dinner later. Her eyes lit up briefly, though she still bore a troubled expression when she said goodbye. He stewed about that frown while he unpacked and familiarized himself with Henry’s place. He fed Felix, who’d returned and had accepted his presence as no big deal.
That got Drew thinking about the other places he’d visited and people he’d met during the past four weeks on the road. There had been polite and friendly discussions, even when Drew had to point out management shortcomings. Not a single interview or inspection had been a big deal. So why this drama? he asked himself. What was there about the tower here in Lighthouse Cove that accounted for the tension around it? And it wasn’t just between him and Grace. There’d been odd reactions from others—the guy from the Historical Society, for instance. Not to mention the cousin, Suzanna, and even Henry to some degree. There was a mysterious unspoken narrative about the tower. One that he wondered he’d ever get to hear.
By the time he’d showered and changed into casual trousers and shirt, Drew was no closer to answers than before. But he figured Grace was the reason he hadn’t simply driven out of the Cove by now. He left a light on for Felix and locked up. Dusk was creeping up on the July Fourth events and Grace had suggested dinner outdoors, at a rib-fest in Town Square.
The day’s crowds were thinning as he made his way along the beach road to the boardwalk. Except for a few noisy clusters of teenagers, most of the children and their families had clearly yielded to exhaustion and gone home. Grace was waiting for him outside the bookstore. She, too, had changed, trading her sundress for jeans and a pullover. The evening air would be cool, she’d reminded him, although cool wasn’t what he was feeling when she waved and walked toward him, her smile erasing all doubt about why he was still in town.
“I got tickets for us,” she exclaimed, holding up two strips of paper. “But seating is on a first-come basis so we should get over to the square right away.”
“Sounds good,” he said. This time he didn’t reach for her hand. He’d wait to see how the evening played out.
“Did you get settled in okay at Henry’s?” she asked as they headed up the street toward the square.
“I did, thanks. And fed Felix, who didn’t seem to question my presence at all.”
“He’s a very chill cat,” she said.
“Aren’t they all? Cats, I mean.”
“I guess. We never had cats because my brother is allergic to them.”
“Dogs?”
“No pets at all. Too much bother, my father always said.”
“Too bad. Pets are good for people, especially kids. We always had dogs because my mother wasn’t a cat person. Sometimes cats would turn up at the farm, but they were almost always feral and stayed in the barn.”
“Do you miss the country? It must be so different from Maine.”
“I spent most of my teens fantasizing about leaving so no, I don’t really miss it. Though it’s always nice to go home for a few days at holidays.”
“Sounds like me and the Cove. But as I told you, when I went off to college, I swore I’d never come back.”
“And you never did?”
“Well, except for special occasions. And now because of my dad’s surgery.”
“But you’ve made a commitment to stay, I presume, since you’re now manager of a bookstore here.”
“Manager is the key word, as opposed to owner. My commitment is temporary.”
“Do your parents know that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I think they might be guessing but don’t want to admit it.”
Something else she hasn’t discussed with her family, he thought. Communication didn’t seem to be her forte. While he was glad she wasn’t the type to prattle, a bit more openness about herself would help him understand her more.
They heard the music and smelled the smoky aroma of barbecue before they reached the square. Lights were strung along the outer edge of the pavilion and a large space had been cordoned off where Drew could see picnic tables with checked tablecloths. Most of them were already full of people eating. There was a line of ticket holders in front of the entrance to the area.
“A good thing you got tickets,” he said as they got in line.
“My friend Julie advised me to.” Her first reference to a friend, he noted, other than the chef at The Daily Catch.
“How was it coming back home and reconnecting with former schoolmates?”
“Well...um... Julie’s the only one I kept in contact with. She moved here when we were both in senior year and she went to college in Augusta, too.”
“And yet you both ended up back here.”
“Julie came back to take care of her mother. And yes, another comparison between us. Though in my case it was helping my mom look after my father.”
“Is she the friend you were with the other day? In Mabel’s?”
“Uh, yes,” she mumbled, and she turned away as the line moved forward.
Minutes later they were seated at a long communal table, enjoying the rib-fest dinner, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Any conversation more serious than small talk couldn’t have happened even if Drew wanted it to. Frankly, he thought, it’s just as well. He was reluctant to have such a beautiful evening turn serious.
It
was cooler once the sun had set, and the light ocean breeze carried a tang of salt and seaweed, blending with the roasting meats on the industrial-sized portable barbecues. Drew studied Grace across the table, the way she delicately licked her fingertips before dabbing them with her napkin or dipped each French fry into the daub of ketchup on her paper plate. Her small hands worked steadily at the food and he smiled at the enjoyment in her face.
It was a rare moment of uninhibited pleasure and he knew he wanted to see more of these snapshots of Grace Winters. Gracie, he amended, for right then she seemed more like that young version of herself. As he set the last rib down onto the small pile of bones on the spare plate between them, Drew caught Grace’s eye and smiled.
“That was really amazing. I didn’t think I’d be able to finish it all, but as you can see...” He pointed to his empty plate.
“I’m done, too,” she announced, crumpling up her napkin. “But I still have one small rib left.”
He shook his head. “No way. I can’t.”
“Come on! You can do it.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. If you insist.”
Her laugh caught the attention of some of their table partners who smiled. “That was a fast capitulation,” she said.
He nibbled at the rib, aware of her gaze fixed on his every bite until he tossed it onto the pile of bones and she clapped her hands. “Told you!”
Her dark eyes never left his while he cleaned his hands, finished off the rest of his beer and plunked the empty glass onto the table with a satisfied sigh. He was about to reach across the table to clasp one of her hands when a woman came up behind Grace, tapping her on the shoulder.
“Bet you’re glad you took my advice.”
Grace craned round and smiled. “Hey! Have you eaten already?”
His Saving Grace Page 10