A long white multi-sectional sofa sprinkled with colorful cushions was positioned midway down the room, facing the windows. A marble-topped coffee table stood in front of the sofa and a wing chair at each of its ends. At one end of the room there was a fireplace—either gas or electric was Drew’s guess—and around it two more wing chairs and a love seat. The end of the room where Drew and Grace were standing held a reading nook with built-in shelves. Two armchairs flanked another marble-topped side table in a corner.
Drew moved closer to examine a collection of porcelain, glass and metal items on two of the shelves.
“Treasures, past and present,” Grace said. “When we were little, Mom kindly let us add our own finds there, but I see they’ve disappeared.” She laughed.
“Only put away for safekeeping, dear,” put in her mother, standing in the doorway behind them.
Drew turned around. “Mrs. Winters, you have a lovely home.”
She smiled. “I’m happy you like it. So many young people these days prefer new, glitzy surroundings.”
“I hope you’re not referring to me,” said Ben as he came up beside her.
Drew liked Evelyn’s laugh—a light tinkle that reminded him a bit of his mother’s. And Grace’s.
“I’ve given up on you, Ben,” she replied, “and am crossing my fingers for Grace. Your father and I consider this a heritage home, with all that the word heritage implies.”
Drew figured from their grins this might be a family joke. His own family heritage—the Iowa farmhouse—had been implicitly handed to his brother when Drew left for college. Everyone knew his own future lay miles away, near an ocean.
Voices and a door closing down the hall got their attention. “That will be Suzanna. Charles must have noticed her arrival on his way downstairs,” said Evelyn. “Ben, please get the sherry and port from the kitchen and the plate of appetizers. Grace, would you and Drew bring some glasses from the dining room cabinet? I’m going to greet Suzanna.”
When both she and Ben left, Drew glanced at Grace. “Sherry?”
She grinned. “Welcome to the Winters family dinner traditions.”
A warm glow rolled through him. “I like traditions,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DREW’S REASSURING KISS minutes ago failed to prevent Grace’s stomach from clenching when Suzanna came into the living room.
Her cousin hadn’t been in the Winters family home in years, but she strolled into the room as if her absence from family events had been mere weeks rather than more than a decade. When Uncle Fred died, Aunt Jane and Suzanna had come from Bangor to stay with them. Grace had come home from college for the funeral and it had been a challenging few days, fraught with reminders of her unintentional role in their family’s grief.
Suzanna took after her mother’s side of the family. Tall and slender with chestnut-colored hair that she’d worn shoulder length her whole life, she had an aloofness about her that used to intimidate the younger Grace. She once told Ben that Zanna—the family nickname for her—thought she was better than her cousins, but he’d replied she was just myopic and refused to wear glasses. Grace had been twelve at the time and had no idea what myopic meant. She did know Zanna rarely wore her glasses, especially not at school.
“Hello, Grace,” she said and when Drew stood up from setting the tray of sherry glasses on the coffee table, added, “Well, hello again!”
“Have you two met?” asked Evelyn, following Suzanna into the room.
Grace was about to reply when Suzanna did. “Mr. Spencer was a guest in my hotel.”
“He was?” This came from Grace’s father, who was sitting in one of the chairs at the end of the sofa. “I thought he was staying with Henry Jenkins?”
“Not with Henry, Dad. He’s been cat-sitting while Henry’s in Portland,” Ben corrected as he returned from the kitchen carrying two bottles by their necks in one hand and a plate of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts—Evelyn’s standard appetizer—in the other.
I could be in one of those bad comedies, or a farce, thought Grace as she took in Drew’s bewildered face as all eyes were on him. Okay, he’s not bewildered so much as amused.
“Ms. Winters,” Drew finally had a chance to say.
“Please, it’s Suzanna. Since we’re meeting again at a family dinner.”
There was a momentary lull broken finally by Ben, who was pouring sherry and port in the glasses on the coffee table. “All right, folks, come get a glass and one of these delicious—what do you call them?—bacon thingies.”
“Canapés, Ben!” Evelyn giggled, casting her son an adoring glance.
Grace caught Drew’s eye and he grinned, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Ben had always been the one to receive approval from her parents, especially her mother, whereas with Grace perplexed shoulder-shrugging had often been the norm.
They gathered around the coffee table, sipping and munching while taking in the view. The sunset was behind them but streaks of pink and yellow shot across the sky and over the bay. Grace noticed Suzanna gravitate to Drew’s side to speak to him and she watched Drew, hoping he’d signal to be rescued if her cousin asked why he was in the Cove. He’d warned her he wouldn’t lie if someone asked and Grace knew it was up to her to make sure that didn’t happen.
Using the excuse of passing around the canapés, she reached them just as Suzanna remarked, “I hope your move from the hotel wasn’t due to some lack of service on our part.” She cocked her head slightly, giving Drew a teasing smile.
“Not at all,” Drew said. “It’s a great hotel, but Henry Jenkins needed someone to care for his cat while he was out of town and his place was more convenient.”
“I’ve been showing Drew around,” Grace put in. “Yesterday we took that harbor and bay cruise.”
“Oh, how was that?”
“Terrific!” Drew exclaimed.
Grace looked sharply at him. She bet the terrific part applied to the end of the trip, when they disembarked. His pale face and jittery hands and legs during the two-hour cruise wouldn’t have made a good advertisement for it at all.
Then he added, “We got a wonderful view of the lighthouse.”
“I’m sure,” was all Suzanna said as she turned to Grace, still holding the plate of canapés. “Oh, I haven’t had one of Aunt Ev’s bacon thingies, as Ben calls them.” She delicately picked up one, removed the toothpick holding the bacon strip and water chestnut together and popped it into her mouth.
That ends the talk for now, Grace thought, as Suzanna moved over to Ben and Charles, sitting nearby. When Evelyn announced that they should find a seat at the dining room table Grace sighed with relief. All she had to do was find a way to separate her cousin from Drew. On her way into the dining room her mother placed a hand on Grace’s arm and said in a low voice, “Be friendly with Zanna, dear. Talk to her.”
“Of course.”
Her mother’s eyes flashed a warning at the indignation in Grace’s tone. “I know you and Zanna have never been close, even when her family was still living here. But she’s been through a lot in the last two years, taking on the hotel and getting used to being back in town.” She paused a second, adding, “I’ve spoken to your father and he’d like to discuss that matter with you. But tomorrow, not tonight.” She patted Grace’s arm and motioned to Ben to accompany her into the kitchen.
Grace knew her father would want all the details of her plan but thought the word discuss was a bad sign. There was no possibility of discussion as far as she was concerned. She glanced across the room at Drew, taking a seat at the table and gesturing to the empty chair beside his. She headed for it but was suddenly preempted by her cousin. Grace reluctantly sat across from Drew, though she was slightly cheered by his wink.
The meal was delicious, and Grace realized her mother had made an extra effort with it—poachi
ng a whole salmon with vegetable sides and two salads. The bay windows were open, allowing the cool night air into the room and the chandelier had been dimmed to enhance the glow from the table’s candles, flickering in the light sea breeze. If Suzanna hadn’t been sitting next to the man Grace was beginning to know and like, the evening might have been perfect.
Grace had thought the subject of the lighthouse would be dropped, but once everyone had complimented Evelyn on the meal and spent some time discussing the merits of Atlantic salmon as opposed to Pacific, Suzanna spoke up.
“I remember we had a brief chat about lighthouses when you were staying at my hotel, Drew. Did you ever get to see ours on land, as well as by sea?”
Grace reached for her water glass and took a large gulp.
“I did, my first day here.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Well...it’s not in very good shape from what I could see. I don’t think anyone’s been inside for quite a while.”
Except for you, Grace thought. She peered down at her plate, her fingers twisting the cloth napkin in her lap, worried that he was about to mention that.
“Henry Jenkins was supposed to be taking care of it.”
“He is,” Grace blurted, rushing to her friend’s defense. “At least, he was. But he’s had hip trouble and will likely need a hip replacement. That’s why he hasn’t been able to keep up with it.”
“Well, I’ve heard he’s hardly been there at all in the past couple of years.” Suzanna picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.
“I noticed someone has been leaving flowers there,” Drew unexpectedly added.
Grace caught his eye and wanted to shake her head, warning him away from any more talk about the lighthouse, but she was afraid her cousin might notice.
But a simple “Oh?” was all Suzanna said.
“Shall we have dessert in the living room?” her mother piped up and Grace knew she was off the hook. Temporarily.
* * *
DREW CLOSED THE car door and looked at Grace beside him in the passenger seat. She hadn’t spoken much during dinner and not afterward when they were eating strawberry shortcake in the living room. Suzanna had done most of the talking, recounting amusing stories about guests at the hotel. Then she and Ben moved away from the group to discuss possible renovations in the hotel while Grace’s mother showed him the collection of artifacts on the bookshelves. Grace had sat next to her father on the sofa, picking at her dessert while he dozed.
“It was a nice evening,” Drew said as he fastened his seat belt and pressed the ignition button.
She murmured something inaudible over the car engine. He guessed she was thinking about Suzanna’s offer to give her a ride home. Grace’s hesitation had prompted Drew to quickly say, “Grace and I have plans later.”
Suzanna had merely said, “Okay,” but Drew guessed he’d confirmed her assumption that they were a couple. Yet now, sitting next to a very subdued Grace, he doubted that. He felt they’d become friends—more than friends, judging by her response to his kisses—but that didn’t make them a couple in the true sense of the word.
As they pulled out onto the main road, Grace finally spoke. “Thanks for rescuing me back there. And just to let you know, I do intend to tell Suzanna after I talk to Dad tomorrow.”
Drew stifled what he wanted to say—that she always seemed to have a reason to delay. What exactly was she waiting for? “Sure,” he said, focusing on his driving.
“You don’t sound sure.”
He turned at her sharp tone but she was staring out the passenger side window. When they were closer to the bookstore, he said, “Look, why don’t you come back to Henry’s with me. Maybe we can talk this over and discuss next steps. I have to get back to Portland tomorrow and—”
“I have to open the store, too. I can’t afford to close three days in a row.”
He struggled to keep his irritation in check. Was she blaming him for her decision to close the store during the entire holiday? “Okay, so you’re saying you’d like to go home instead?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
She hadn’t uttered another word by the time he pulled up front of her place. He shut down the car and sat drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel, waiting for some sign from her that would clarify this drastic change in mood. He might have kissed her good-night but she unsnapped her seat belt and opened the door.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow...maybe.” She closed the door and went to unlock the store.
All the way to Henry’s he mulled over that last word maybe. It was typical of Grace to toss off such an ambiguous remark when he couldn’t follow up on it. Did she want to see him or not? If she did, then a smile would have been enough. But given her silence since they’d left her parents, he could only assume she was ambivalent. Not merely at seeing him before he left for Portland, but perhaps about their whole relationship. Friendship, he amended.
Figuring out Grace Winters was like playing that childhood game. He couldn’t recall the name, something about Simon. Take two steps forward. Now take three back. Considering what he was planning to do for her—sticking his neck out by promising a safety inspection—Drew had to ask himself why? What was it about this woman that had him going in circles?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRACE HAD A lot on her mind. Last night’s dinner that had begun so auspiciously with Drew’s kiss had fizzled into disappointment by the time Drew had dropped her off at the store. The back and forth exchanges about the lighthouse had been nerve-racking and the stress of fending off any revelation about why Drew had really come to town had made her stomach churn. How much longer could she continue the charade that the memorial was for her cousin when deep inside she knew it was for herself? That whatever she felt for Drew Spencer was impossible and could only come to nothing but grief for both of them. He was simply too decent a person.
But by morning, some vestige of her normal self returned. She phoned to arrange a visit with her father at lunchtime. Fortunately, she reached her mother instead and didn’t have to get into the discussion beforehand. She fretted over the talk, because her father liked information presented to him in point form: no digressions, no embellishments and definitely no irrelevant facts. Ben had mastered the technique but not Grace. That wasn’t her style. Never had been.
She hadn’t contacted Suzanna. That task picked away at her mind no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Of course, it couldn’t be put off forever, but what was the point in raising painful memories for no reason? Better to wait until the project was a done deal. Which brought her back to Drew’s reminder that he’d come by to speak to her about the lighthouse. He’d told her that it would need to pass an inspection and that it wouldn’t be sold if it was found to be a hazard. Fine. So, let’s get on with it.
She got to work in the store—turning on the air-conditioning, opening the blinds and dusting. She booted up the computer to see if any shipments were due that week and reviewed last week’s earnings. When she first took over the business, Henry had warned her sales had dropped recently, perhaps due to the opening of a chain bookstore in the new mall on the outskirts of Portland. His advice had been to sell books that were prizewinners or more difficult to find and also to promote local authors whose books might never hit the big stores. “Don’t compete—be different,” he’d said.
This week she’d invited a former fisherman turned author to talk about his self-published memoir of lobstering years ago when Lighthouse Cove was still a viable fishing community. Henry had recommended the man, a member of the Historical Society, so Grace was assured that at least some people would be attending. She’d read the book and found the stories of the hardships and dangers the fishermen faced compelling. She typed a brief email confirming his visit on Friday, flipped over the closed sign on the front door and waited for customers.
Some bus
inesses in the Cove were closed due to Saturday’s holiday but most reopened. Midmorning a few passersby noticed Novel Thinking and wandered in to browse. Grace had expanded the children’s section from Henry’s time, learning from Ben that many of the home buyers in the new subdivision had young families, and had even created a cozy nook with carpet and beanbag seats. The problem was that so far it was being used as a temporary library, with adults and their charges reading but not buying.
Once the library was built... No, she refused to contemplate staying in the Cove longer than a year. She felt some guilt at knowing she’d suggested her father purchase the store, but she also knew it was a good investment for him. Even if it couldn’t function as a bookstore, its proximity to Main Street made it prime real estate. With the new development, the town was in transition, evidenced by a shift in the type of businesses from older, established places to trendier ones. Despite Henry’s objections to change, it was happening and there was no stopping it.
She was reading the reply email from Terrance Langford, the author, when the front doorbell tinkled. Her mixed feelings at seeing Drew walk through the door were heightened by the animal carry-cage in his hand. Drew was leaving town and really, after her parting last night, could she blame him?
“Hi,” she said when he reached the cash counter. “I guess you told Henry you were leaving.”
“I have and as you can see—” he gestured to Felix crouched unhappily in the cage “—he’s grateful for your offer to take Felix. At least there’s less chance of his escaping from upstairs.”
He reached for her hand. “I...um... I’m not very good at this but I can’t leave without telling you how much the weekend meant to me. Not just getting to know the town a bit more but seeing it through your eyes. Meeting your family. Most of all, spending time with you. Being with you. That was the best part.” He pulled her close in a hug.
His Saving Grace Page 13