That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Read online

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  The Philadelphia Inquirer calls her “someone

  to watch and savor for a long time,” and Affaire de Coeur says she is “one of the most talented writers

  of mainstream contemporary fiction.”

  MARIAH STEWART

  THE CHESAPEAKE DIARIES

  “The town and townspeople of St. Dennis, Maryland, come vividly to life under Stewart’s skillful hands. The pace is gentle, but the emotions are complex.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “If a book is by Mariah Stewart, it has a subliminal message of ‘wonderful’ stamped on every page.”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  “The characters seem like they could be a neighbor or friend or even co-worker, and it is because of that and Mariah Stewart’s writing that I keep returning again and again to this series.”

  —Heroes and Heartbreakers

  “Every book in this series is a gem.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Captivating and heartwarming.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  A DIFFERENT LIGHT

  “Warm, compassionate, and fulfilling. Great reading.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “This is an absolutely delicious book to curl up with . . . scrumptious . . . delightful.”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  PRICELESS

  “The very talented Ms. Stewart is rapidly building an enviable reputation for providing readers with outstanding stories and characters that are exciting, distinctive, and highly entertaining.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4½ stars)

  “Stewart weaves a powerful romance with suspense for a very compelling read.”

  —Under the Covers Reviews

  MOON DANCE

  “Enchanting . . . a story filled with surprises!”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  “An enjoyable tale . . . packed with emotion.”

  —Literary Times

  “Stewart hits a home run out of the ball park . . . a delightful contemporary romance.”

  —The Romance Reader

  WONDERFUL YOU

  “Wonderful You is delightful—romance, laughter, suspense! Totally charming and enchanting.”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  “Vastly entertaining . . . you can’t help but be caught up in all the sorrows, joys, and passion of this unforgettable family.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  DEVLIN’S LIGHT

  “A magnificent story of mystery, love, and an enchanting town. Splendid!”

  —Bell, Book and Candle

  “With her special brand of rich emotional content and compelling drama, Mariah Stewart is certain to delight readers everywhere.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  CAROLINA MIST

  “Ms. Stewart has written a touching and compassionate story of life and love that wrapped around me like a cozy quilt.”

  —Old Book Barn Gazette

  “A wonderful, tender novel.”

  —Rendezvous

  MOMENTS IN TIME

  “Intense and unforgettable . . . a truly engrossing read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Cleverly and excellently done—Ms. Stewart is an author to watch.”

  —Rendezvous

  For Christina and Patrick

  Acknowledgments

  THERE are so many people to thank for putting this book together that I hardly know where to begin, and I know I’m leaving out a bunch, but let’s start with my editor, Lauren McKenna, who was a total rock star when it came to making this book as good as it could possibly be. She is the absolute best, and I’m so fortunate to be working with her. I can’t thank her enough for all the time she spent whipping this manuscript into shape! Thanks also to Elana Cohen for her help smoothing out the bumps during my transition from one publisher to Pocket, and for always being there when I have questions. Thanks to the art department for the eye-catching cover. I love it!

  Closer to home, I must thank my team of personal cheerleaders who help keep me going—Jo Ellen Grossman, my BFF since kindergarten (and no, I’m not telling you how many years ago that was!); Helen Egner, who read the first draft of my very first book over twenty years ago and insisted that I keep writing; and Chery Griffin, who shares the trenches and who understands that the difference between a good day and a bad day is a blank page. I’m eternally grateful for your friendship.

  I had to be led kicking and screaming to join Facebook, but I’ve come to realize that it has replaced the office watercooler when it comes to gathering to chat with friends during the day. It’s so fun to stop in from time to time to see what’s on everyone’s mind. We talk about books and families and television shows and all manner of things (and we have occasional book giveaways). I’ve met some of the nicest people on my FB page! If you’d like to be one of them, join us at Facebook.com/AuthorMariahStewart. And if you’d like to check out my website, go to www.mariahstewart.com.

  Last, but never least, I need to send love to my family: Bill, Becca, Katie, Mike, and the most adorable little guys in the world, Cole and Jack. Thanks for being the biggest and best part of my life. You are everything to me.

  Diary ~

  What a lovely time we had last night at the fund-raiser for the new art center! Since being in a wheelchair does hamper my comings and goings, I so appreciated having the festivities right here in the inn’s ballroom. So nice to see so many old friends again! Yes, of course, people have dropped in to see me since my accident, but it’s not the same as being at a party, however much I did occasionally have the feeling that there were some who just wanted to see if I had survived that fall down the main stairwell last year. After all, I haven’t been seen in public in months, so I guess a bit of speculation is to be expected. Having had a second surgery on that pesky fractured leg has set back my summer plans, but it is what it is, and the doctors assure me that I’ll be as good as new once the break heals completely. I’ve been assured that soon this cast and the past months will be nothing more than a sorry memory. Ha! Fat chance . . .

  Speaking of which—things in the past, that is—I’ve been having the oddest dreams these past few weeks, and I have a strange feeling that something big is about to come our way. The odd thing is, it’s good and it’s not so good, both positive and negative. There’s a swirl of energy that I see, but I can’t quite make out where it will land. I sense something that’s been hidden for a long time about to resurface, something lost but found, if you follow my drift. And it’s going to affect several of us in different ways. That’s the confusing aspect—that sense of positive and negative energy converging. I’m not sure how to interpret all this, and not sure how I feel about it, because the overwhelming sense I have is that in the end, it’s going to be a good thing for everyone involved.

  And all that having been said—I couldn’t be more confused. I think it’s time to dig the Ouija out of the closet and see if any of my friends on the other side can shed some light on the situation. Surely, Alice, you have something to say!

  Grace

  Chapter 1

 
; JAMIE Valentine lifted the last leggy geranium from the flat that had been sitting in the backyard of her family home for the past four weeks. Her mother, Lainey, had picked up six flats of annuals and had planted almost half of them before suffering the heart attack that took her life on a late-April morning. Jamie had kept the flowers watered and had all intentions of planting them sooner, but things had gotten in the way. Like shock, and grief, and pain. Finishing the job her mother had started seemed to Jamie like she’d accepted that her mother was really gone. Acceptance wasn’t part of Jamie’s process just yet. She was still in the wishing-it-weren’t-so phase of denial. Tending to this task for her mother would go a long way to move past that phase, but the grief was still fresh.

  She knelt at the edge of the bed and stabbed the earth with the old trowel she’d found on her mother’s potting bench. The handle was bent, some of the red paint worn off, the point perhaps not as sharp as it once was, but it was the one her mother preferred, so it was the one Jamie had selected from the assortment on the bench. She’d planted almost two entire flats before resting back on her heels and draining the bottle of water she’d brought with her. It was closing in on noon, and the sun had been beating down on her back for a good two hours. She wished she’d pulled her hair into a higher ponytail instead of letting it rest on her back, but when she tried to redo it, she ended up with gritty soil on her neck, despite the fact that she’d wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “There’s some of that chicken salad you like in the fridge.” Jamie’s aunt’s voice called from ten feet away.

  “Hey, Aunt Sis. When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come up.” Jamie looked over her shoulder and found her mother’s sister—christened Evelyn but known to all as Sis—sitting on the bottom step of the back porch.

  “About five minutes ago. I put some things in the fridge for you.” Sis paused. “You should have worn a hat.”

  “Thanks. You know I love your chicken salad. You did put walnuts and grapes and pineapples . . .”

  Sis nodded.

  “Bless you. And as for the hat, I didn’t remember that it got this hot in May in Caryville.”

  “Welcome to spring in central Pennsylvania. The weather’s unpredictable.” Sis stretched her legs out in front of her. “Want some help?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got this.” Jamie resumed planting. “Hope I’m doing this right. I never had much interest in gardening.”

  Sis got up and walked over to inspect Jamie’s work. She pointed to some flowers Jamie had already planted and said, “The begonias need shade. They’re going to fry out here in the direct sun.”

  Jamie scanned the flower bed. “Which ones are begonias?”

  Sis pointed to the row of small pink flowers.

  “If they need shade, why did Mom buy them?” Jamie looked up at her aunt.

  “She bought those for the planters on the front porch. Planted the same flowers every year in the same urns.”

  “No one can say Mom wasn’t a creature of habit,” Jamie murmured.

  “The urns belonged to your grandmother, and that’s what she planted on the front porch of the house we grew up in. I think Lainey planted them for Mom.” Sis smiled. “Nice to carry on the tradition.”

  Jamie nodded and turned back to the flower bed. “What should I do about the begonias I already planted?”

  “Just pull them out and stick them back in the trays that you took them out of.”

  “Won’t that kill them? Damage their roots?”

  “They’ve survived in those trays with only sporadic waterings for the past month. I think they’ll be fine for a little while, but I wouldn’t wait too long to replant them. They haven’t been in the ground that long this morning, and the soil is soft.”

  “Okay.” Jamie tugged gently on the plants that were to be moved and placed them in the flats.

  “Nice,” Sis said as she returned to the porch step. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

  The lump that had become part of Jamie’s anatomy since the day she’d gotten Sis’s frantic call—“Jamie, come home. Your mother . . .”—rose in her throat.

  Sis blew her nose quietly. “It was all so sudden. I’d just been over that morning to return that digger.” She pointed to the trowel in Jamie’s hand. “I’d borrowed it a few days before and pretty much forgot about it.”

  Jamie prepared herself to patiently listen to her aunt’s recitation as if she hadn’t heard it at least a dozen times already. She knew that it helped Sis to talk about it, and she didn’t mind listening.

  “Lainey wanted to set out her annuals in those back flower beds and had about driven herself crazy looking for that little trowel before remembering that I still had it.” Sis teared up at the memory. “She called to ask me about it, and I said I’d drive it right over. We sat out back in those old lawn chairs she swore every year she’d get rid of, and we drank iced tea. The mint was just coming into leaf, and she’d put some into the pitcher with the tea bags.” She blew her nose again into a tissue. “We had such a warm spring. I said I thought it was too hot to be planting and maybe she should wait until later in the afternoon, when it was cooler and the sun was behind the trees, but you know your mother. She was going to do what she set out to do when she felt like doing it.”

  Jamie nodded. That pretty much summed up Lainey Valentine.

  “I keep thinking maybe if I’d tried harder to convince her to wait, maybe she—”

  “Don’t, Aunt Sis. Don’t blame yourself.” Jamie swallowed hard. “I spoke with her doctor. He assured me that this could have happened at any time. Of course, she never shared with me that she was having problems with her heart.”

  “Nor with me. I had no idea. I knew she was taking a handful of pills every day, but I figured they were just her vitamins and the usual stuff they start pumping into you when you get into your sixties. You know, cholesterol, blood pressure. She never let on that there was something serious going on.”

  “So let’s just say that she was doing what she loved best until the end, all right?” Jamie smiled gently at her aunt. “I think if she’d been given the choice, that’s how she would have wanted to go out.”

  “Except she wouldn’t have chosen to be alone.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve thought about that, about the fact that she was alone at the end. On the one hand, I wish I’d been with her, because she must have been so frightened.” Jamie felt her throat tighten and her eyes begin to burn. “On the other hand, I wonder if things hadn’t gone just the way she wanted them to.”

  “You mean to spare you, or me, or anyone else she cared for, from having to watch her pass?” Sis’s voice was almost a whisper.

  Jamie nodded.

  “The thought did cross my mind. Lainey always wanted to shield everyone she cared about from anything unpleasant or painful. Even when we were kids, she tried to protect me from anything that might hurt. She took that whole big-sister thing very seriously. Just as she took her responsibilities as a mother seriously. She never wanted you to have to deal with anything that might upset you.”

  “That wasn’t very realistic,” Jamie noted.

  “True enough, but that’s how she was. You and I both know that your mother always got what she wanted.” Sis sighed deeply. “And I think she would have wanted you to stay with me during this time instead of staying alone in this big old house. At the very least, she’d have wanted me to help you get things in order here.”

  “When I get to the point where I need help—and eventually, I will need help deciding what to do with some of the furniture and other things in the house—I promise you will be the only person I call.”

  “I had better be.”

  “You can count on it. Besides, I know there are some things of Mom’s that you’d like to have.”

  “Now, you don’t need to be doing everything this trip.”
<
br />   “I know. But I did want to pack up a few things to take back with me, and there are some others that I’ll ship home to Princeton. Frankly, I could use a break . . .” Jamie looked around the yard, then back up at the house. “You know, we had a great life here. We really were a happy family. After I grew up, there wasn’t much for me in a small town like this one, out in the middle of nowhere. But I always loved coming back, being here. Now . . . I don’t know how I feel about being here without Mom. It was always us. Now it’s only me. Pretty soon I’ll run out of things to keep my mind occupied, so it’s probably time to get back out there. I don’t really know how much time I’ll have once I start back on my book tour. My publisher has arranged a lot of TV appearances. They told me to take all the time I need, but I have things pretty well organized here for now, and like I said, I could use a break.”

  “I understand your needing a little space, and I guess traveling and meeting your readers and fans will be good for you. You know, I sometimes forget you’re a big media star these days. Your mom and I especially liked that time you were on The View and got into a bit of a tussle with—”

  Jamie laughed. “Mom said afterward that she wished she’d taped it so she could watch it again and again.”

  Sis nodded. “It was one for the books, that’s for sure. But listen, honey, why don’t you think about staying with me for a few days? Or if you’d rather, I could bunk here with you for a day or two. I hate the thought of you rambling around this old place alone.”

  Jamie got up and walked over to hug her aunt and place a kiss on her cheek. “I’m fine here alone. Thank you for everything you’ve already done. I would have been lost without you, Aunt Sis. I wouldn’t have known who to contact or where to start. I sure wouldn’t have known to call all those people who showed up for Mom’s funeral. I didn’t recognize even half of them.”

  “Your mother lived in this town for thirty-six years. She was well known and well loved. I expected a crowd at the church, but I have to admit even I was impressed by the number of people who went to the cemetery in such a storm.”