“This is it.” Grace pulled open the door, letting wafts of warm air mixed with the heady aromas of garlic, seafood and wood smoke escape.
Once inside, Ella paused to take in the cozy refuge. She had a distant memory of standing at a counter with her father, waiting for an order of fish and chips that came wrapped in fake newsprint and greasy paper bags. “I think I sometimes came here with my dad,” she told Grace as they were shown to a corner table.
Ella liked the interior—predictably reflecting the ubiquitous lobster-fishing themes she recalled from her summers at the Cove—because it wasn’t the least bit pretentious. The artifacts even looked genuine, not that she knew much about antiques. Old things, as her mother would say disdainfully. The times she’d spent at the Winters home had exposed her to the heirlooms and valued assets of past generations, and although she’d never been drawn to their aesthetic, she’d envied Grace’s link to history. Ella could trace her family tree back only two generations and knew little about her older ancestors.
She was still staring at the small piece of paper that was the menu when a waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table and began to uncork it.
“You seemed lost in thought,” Grace was saying, “so I went ahead and ordered my favorite sauvignon blanc. Hope that’s okay?”
So much for being clear-minded, Ella. “That’s fine, thanks. Um, what’s good here? I see few choices.”
“The catch of the day is what I usually get. But as you can see, they have scallops, shrimp and lobster. Some of that will be frozen of course, given the season.”
“The catch of the day sounds okay for me, too. I noticed the lack of fishing boats in the harbor. Are they up for the winter or something?”
“No. Most of the fishermen have either retired and moved south or gone into other work. The fish comes from Portland every day, so most of it’s fresh, even now in winter.”
“Guess I’ve never thought much about winter here.”
“Well, why would you? Your family were summer people.”
Summer people. That was a phrase Ella had heard many times during her family vacations. When she’d been young, she hadn’t given the label much thought, but as a preteen and teenager, she’d begun to understand the implied meaning—summer people weren’t regular people. They were seasonal, coming and going like the tides, with no lasting connection to the place.
“True, but we did come every year from when I was six until I was...” She didn’t need to finish.
Grace dipped her head to her menu. After a long, uncomfortable moment, the waiter returned to take their orders. But Ella knew the interruption was a mere postponement of what would inevitably come. They ordered the fish special with a Caesar salad to share. Ella sipped her wine, looking coolly at her old friend. She wondered when Grace would get around to the topic they were both consciously avoiding—that Labor Day weekend. After dinner, perhaps, because otherwise one of them might stomp out and waste what promised to be a delicious meal. That was okay with Ella. She’d waited seventeen years for Grace’s apology. Another hour or so would be nothing.
The food came and they were exclaiming over the whole grilled fish sided by a variety of grilled vegetables when a man in a chef’s jacket appeared.
“Gracie! I was hoping you’d come by one of these days so I could congratulate you. Great news! I imagine your family is thrilled.”
Ella watched the surge of red creep up Grace’s neck and into her cheeks. The engagement, she surmised.
“Um, yes, they’re pleased.”
But not thrilled? Ella wondered.
“Tom, this is Ella Jacobs. She and her family used to come to the Cove in the summers.”
When he looked her way, Ella thought his smile wobbled a bit, but he covered nicely. “The name’s familiar. Welcome.” He didn’t offer a handshake. Then his attention shifted to their waiter gesturing toward the kitchen. “Oops, got to go. Congrats again, Grace. Let me know when you’ve set a date.” He dashed away.
“Tom went to school with Ben.” Grace ran a fingertip around the rim of her wineglass.
“So you said.” Ella waited a beat, adding, “We should eat while this is hot.” She noted the flicker of relief in Grace’s face. She clearly didn’t want a dinner ruined by a serious conversation either.
The food was delicious, and as they ate, the talk was all about taste and aromas. When the waiter took away their empty plates, Ella said, “Thanks, Grace. That was a wonderful dinner. Their fish and chips were good back then, but this was superb.”
Grace smiled. “We must be sure to tell Tom if he pops by again. He’ll appreciate the compliment.” She scanned the room. “It’s pretty quiet in here tonight, for a Wednesday. Sometimes it’s difficult to get reservations, especially on weekends.”
“It’s not very big. I guess that adds to the demand.” Ella sipped her wine, then said, “Tell me about your engagement.”
“Well, it happened just recently. We haven’t made any definite plans yet. Still waiting for the news to sink in with both our families.”
“Is he from here?”
“No. Drew’s originally from Iowa, but he’s with the Coast Guard in Portland.”
“Is he an officer, or does he work there as a civilian?”
“He’s an officer. Used to be search and rescue, but now he’s in charge of lighthouse maintenance. He just got a promotion.”
Ella bit her lip at Grace’s proud grin. “How nice for you both,” she murmured, reaching for her wineglass again. “How did you meet?”
There was a long enough pause that Ella wondered if Grace had heard her.
“He came to the Cove to inspect our lighthouse.” She made a funny throat-clearing sound. “It’s a long story. I’d inquired about restoring the lighthouse in order to erect a memorial there. For Brandon. The lighthouse has been decommissioned, and we’ve been fundraising since the summer to buy it. The last payment was just made, and now it officially belongs to the town.”
Ella kept her gaze firmly on Grace’s face throughout her story. Judging from the woman’s flushed cheeks and rapid breathing, she guessed she wouldn’t have to wait long for the apology.
Grace suddenly blurted, “I’m so sorry, Ella. There’s no way I can justify what Cassie and I did. I’ve tried to rationalize my actions over the past few years, putting them down to jealousy and poor judgment, but all of those excuses really mean nothing. In the end I simply had to admit that I did something wrong that resulted in a death, and even though no one could have foreseen what happened, the fact is that our thoughtless prank upset Brandon enough to make him run off to hide his humiliation. He clearly wasn’t thinking straight, or he’d never have gone to the lighthouse, but my theory is that he wanted to avoid the beach-party gang and he also didn’t want to go home. If only I’d thought how he might react! I’ve spent the last seventeen years asking myself why I didn’t consider that he’d be crushed. That he wouldn’t just laugh it off. But he was fourteen, with all the frailty of a teenager. I ought to have been empathetic, but I was too wrapped up in my jealousy.”
Ella couldn’t speak. She felt as if she’d been breathlessly running alongside Grace through the whole outburst, and her head was spinning. Where to start? She chose the last point. “What were you jealous about?”
Grace stopped the nervous toying with her cutlery. “I was jealous of you and Ben. He got all your attention, and I felt like I was just someone you hung out with when Ben was unavailable.”
“Cassie was there.”
“But you and I were best friends for all the years you’d been coming to the cove. It was always just the two of us.”
“Until that summer, when I came here to find that you were friends with Cassie.”
“She was kind to me that school year. I had a hard time in ninth grade, getting bussed to high school in Portland. All those kids I didn’t know
. I was an outsider and Cassie paid attention to me. She was a year older—like you—and she didn’t care at all about being on the outs with kids.”
“Well, that’s how I felt when I realized you and Cassie were tight. I was the outsider.”
“But you were always so bubbly—laughing at Cassie’s antics and going along with her schemes. It didn’t seem like you felt left out.”
“Because I was trying to make the best of the situation. I wanted to keep your friendship, but two’s company and three’s a crowd, right? There’s no more apt cliché than that when referring to teenage girls.”
“You’re not saying that we drove you into Ben’s arms?”
The mix of irony and disbelief in Grace’s voice rankled. “I’m not taking the blame for what you and Cassie did. I was a teenager, too. Teens have crushes. You know that—you used Brandon’s crush on me to set us up.”
Grace flinched. “You’re right, Ella. And I’m not blaming you. I’m just explaining how my fifteen-year-old mind was working. I didn’t even realize at the time that Cassie also had a huge crush on Ben, which I think was what led to the whole stupid idea. So I’m apologizing on her behalf, too.”
How typical of Grace, Ella thought, to include her coconspirator, not that she cared about getting an apology from Cassie anyway. “Whatever happened to Cassie?”
“She left the Cove for college and as far as I know, has never returned.” Grace looked down at the table for a second and when she raised her head, her eyes were glistening. “I can’t possibly make amends. I can’t go back in time and make it all good. But I know I’ll carry the burden of that night with me for the rest of my life. Even knowing my family still loves me, despite what I did, cannot free me of that.”
Ella had to look away from the vulnerability in her old friend’s face. The talk paused when the waiter brought the dessert menu. As soon as he left, she leaned across the table and said in a low voice, “I understand what you’re trying to tell me, Grace. You were fifteen with the faulty judgment of a teenager. As for carrying the burden all these years, you’re not the only one. I was vilified because everyone thought I was responsible for Brandon being out at the lighthouse. The police came to our cottage and showed me the note you gave Brandon. When I told them I’d also received a note but had destroyed it, I knew they didn’t believe me.”
“What exactly did you tell them?”
“I told them the truth, Grace. I told them someone else was responsible and that Brandon and I had been tricked. That I heard laughter coming from the bushes but I didn’t see who was hiding there.”
“No one came to ask me any questions.”
“Of course not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You and Cassie were townies and I was a summer kid. Brandon was your cousin. You were a Winters. Do the math.”
“My family knew nothing about any of this.”
Ella fought to stay calm against the heat in Grace’s face. “Maybe not, but they could have tried to find out the truth. You could have told them, Grace. Why didn’t you?”
Grace turned her head aside. “I was afraid to.”
“Well, there you have it. Your fear not only brought years of guilt on to yourself, but it also left a gaping wound in my own past.” She saw that Grace was struggling to compose herself. In an instant, the years vanished and her summer friend reappeared: the bright smile when Ella knocked on the Winterses’ door every first day back in the Cove; Grace’s keen interest in Ella’s school year and the circle of friends Grace had never met; the breathless excitement when Ella unpacked the books she’d hoarded over the winter, all destined for Grace’s bookshelves.
A flood of emotion rose up, and Ella knew she couldn’t sit a second longer or she’d be wrapping her arms around her old friend and forgiving her everything. But she wasn’t ready to do that yet. She stood up. “I should go. I have some preparation work for tomorrow. Assuming you still want me?” The misery in Grace’s face almost made Ella relent and stay longer.
“Of course, I still want you to come. But please...just think about what I’ve said tonight. Try to forgive me.”
“I will, but...” Ella changed her mind about what she wanted to say. “Thanks for dinner.” She plucked her coat and purse from the back of her chair and passed their startled waiter on her way out. Well into the night, the thought that surfaced didn’t concern the apology but the fact that, in spite of what Grace had done, she had managed to find love. Could Ella say the same?
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BELL JINGLED as the door closed behind him, and Ben stifled a curse as a couple heads turned his way. He tiptoed to the center of the store, where Ella’s book talk had already begun. He realized at once that there was no seating available and stood at the rear next to Grace, whose stern face rebuked his late arrival. He scanned the group in front of him. Most seemed to be female teens—and some a bit older—which made sense because Ella’s novel was for young adults. He preferred nonfiction, but he’d read Ella’s book and had liked it.
He’d known since that long-ago summer that she was a good writer, not that he was qualified to judge. There had been times when she’d been brave enough to read him some of her scribblings, as she’d called them, and he’d been in awe of her ability to produce images and ideas from mere words. He hadn’t been surprised to learn that she’d become a journalist and not only because she’d often talked about it.
Yet as much as he’d been drawn into her novel, he’d felt uneasy reading it. It centered on a teenage boy being bullied at school. The character eventually finds someone who believes in him enough to give him the courage to proclaim his love for her as well as defy his tormentors. The main character was an eccentric—a nerd—and Ben instantly thought about Brandon. It surely was no coincidence that Ella chose that theme, as generic as it was, and fashioned that character. But what had prompted her to write such an obvious homage? And why now? He had the uneasy feeling she might have some kind of agenda in accepting the book-talk invitation.
Ben pushed that unpleasant thought aside. Right now he was trying to connect the poised, eloquent woman speaking at the front of the room with the girl of his teenage dreams. All the what-ifs he’d tormented himself with over the years rushed back. If that night had never happened, he might have grown into adulthood with Ella. He might have traveled with her, lived and worked with her in exotic places. They might have married and raised a family. A stab of pain caught his breath and he closed his eyes until he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Grace was frowning at him, her eyes big with questions. Ben shrugged and looked away. All those possibilities could have been realities if it hadn’t been for his sister and Cassie Fielding. His feelings about Grace since he’d learned the truth had ricocheted from disappointment to anger to pity. He’d tried to calm that inner storm of emotion and hide it from Grace because he figured the cost to her of carrying that awful secret and then confessing to it had been great. But the last few months had sometimes felt more tumultuous than the days after Brandon had died, as Ben grappled with the realization that his life—and Ella’s—might have been so very different. The scenario he avoided thinking about was what he himself should have done at the time.
A small round of applause brought him back to the moment. Ella was ending her presentation and opening the floor to questions. There was a general buzz of excitement and hands flew up across the room. Ben guessed from her smile and flushed face that she was pleased with her talk. He felt a twinge of guilt that his focus had been on the lilt of her voice and the sparkle in her eyes rather than her actual words. He decided to stay a bit longer, although he had a meeting in Portland with some potential investors.
The first few questioners were teenagers gushing about the book and how they could relate to its message. That got Ben’s attention. He suspected the message was as universal and timeless as bullying itself. As he butto
ned up his coat, Grace whispered, “Thanks for coming. I’m sure Ella appreciated it.”
He nodded but doubted Ella needed affirmation from him. “I have to go,” he whispered back. “But can you tell her I’ll text about dinner tonight? I’m not sure if she’s remembered that I invited her. Or have the two of you made plans?”
“No, we met last night. It’s too complicated to give a recap now. Another time.”
She must have told Ella what she’d done all those years ago. He wondered how that had gone. Perhaps he’d find out tonight from Ella. He was starting to leave when an abrupt silence fell over the room, followed by Ella’s strained voice saying, “I’m sorry. Could you please repeat your question?”
“Of course,” replied a woman whose back was to Ben. “Your book is fiction but bears a striking resemblance to an actual incident that occurred here several years ago. My research indicates that you might have been involved in that incident—one that ended in tragedy for a young teenage boy. Is your book, in fact, based on that event?”
Ben heard Grace’s sharp inhale, but his whole being focused on Ella’s ashen face.
“My novel—and I stress that word—is fiction. The characters are fictional and so is the story,” she said with a steady voice.
“Yet a true-life experience can be fictionalized.”
Ben peered over the heads in front and saw that the woman was holding a pen and notebook. Someone from The Beacon? He was about to inch forward to identify her when his sister’s voice rang out.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re short of time. If any of you would like Ella to sign your book, could you please line up on the far side of the room? And the cash register is now open.” She gave a small laugh and headed for the counter opposite.
A group of teens leaped out of their chairs to swarm Ella. Ben noticed the woman who’d asked the question tucking her notepad into a handbag, and as she stood up, he caught her glancing his way. She looked vaguely familiar, and when she gave him a slight nod, Ben suddenly recalled meeting her several weeks ago when Paul Collins, managing editor of The Beacon, had introduced Ben—the paper’s new partner—to the staff. Although Ben had promised Paul a free hand running The Beacon, he was tempted to swoop over and confiscate the woman’s notebook.
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