Home for the Summer Page 14

  “Oh, wow.” Lucy stood in the center of the entry hall that was dominated by one of the biggest Christmas trees she’d ever seen. “This place is even grander than I expected.”

  “It’s something, all right.” Jesse closed the door softly. “I have to admit, the first time I stepped through that front door, I was as dazzled as you are.”

  “It’s a pretty amazing place,” Clay agreed. “I got my first look at the house during last month’s tour, along with all the other gawkers. I don’t know too many people in town who’d been in the house before, so there were a lot of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ that day.”

  “I can understand why. Look at that tree … and the garland on the stairwell. Oh, and that crèche there on the table.” Lucy appeared to be at a loss as to where to look first.

  “All Brooke’s work,” Jesse told her with no small amount of pride. “All I did was follow orders.”

  “I’ll bet she had a ball.” Lucy stepped closer to the tree. “Antique ornaments?”

  Jesse nodded. “We found boxes of them in the attic. I thought Brooke was going to pass out, she got so excited.”

  “I don’t blame her. They’re exceptionally well preserved. The colors haven’t faded a bit.”

  “They were wrapped up pretty well and hadn’t seen the light of day since my grandmother died twenty-some years ago.”

  Lucy stepped closer to the wall on the right side, where numerous portraits were hung. “Relatives?” she asked.

  “Earliest to the latest. From Elias Enright there on the end to my grandfather, farther on down the hall. Not all of them lived here, though. The house has only been in the family since around 1864.”

  “The paintings are all exquisite,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Jesse was smiling. “I really like that three of them—the most recent—were painted at almost the same spot outside. You can see how the property changed over the years.” He pointed to one portrait. “In the background here, you can see the tenant houses that once stood along the stream at the back of the property. The place was built by a tobacco farmer who moved here from South Carolina around 1840. He based the floor plan on a plantation owned by a cousin. When the Civil War broke out, he joined the Confederate army, died at Gettysburg, and his widow sold the house to my great-great-grandfather the following year. In the next painting, though, those houses are all gone.”

  “There was a big flood around 1898,” Clay said. “My grandmother wrote about it in her diary. They lost all their crops that year, almost lost the farm.”

  “My granddad said that the stream overflowed and washed out every one of those houses, and two children were lost. My great-grandfather had the cabins torn down rather than risk another tragedy. They planted a line of trees, but nothing ever was built again from the back of the carriage house to the edge of the stream.”

  “Hey, guys.” Brooke came toward them from the back of the house, clutching an armful of amaryllis and ferns. “Sorry. I was out in the conservatory looking for something to replace the flower arrangements that have pooped out.”

  “There’s a conservatory here?” Lucy’s interest was clearly piqued.

  “A real one, with plants that have survived since Jesse’s grandmother’s time. Curtis has kept them going.” Brooke headed into the room on the left. “Come on in, look around the parlor.”

  “You don’t need to ask me twice.” Lucy followed Brooke, her eyes wide.

  Seeing Lucy so carefree and happy tugged at Clay’s heart, and he was grateful to have been able to bring that smile to her face. There’d been a time when she’d laughed easily and often, and smiled freely. It made him happy to know that that happy young girl who’d always found joy in her everyday life—his LuLu—still lurked inside the serious woman she’d become. Now that he’d had a glimpse of her, he was determined to not let her slip back into that place where she’d been hiding.

  “Jesse, this is really nice of you to let Lucy and me stop over. As you can see, she’s really enjoying this.”

  “I don’t mind, and my granddad didn’t mind. I know Lucy’s only in town for another day and that she isn’t here very often.”

  “Not so often at all.”

  “Is this wise?” Jesse lowered his voice.

  “Is what wise?” Clay frowned.

  “You know. Lucy.”

  Clay smiled. “She’s the only girl who ever broke my heart.”

  “Maybe that’s the attraction,” Jesse said. “You know, the one who got away.”

  Clay shook his head. “It isn’t that. I’ve been dumped plenty of times, once by a girl I thought I was in love with about five years ago. It hurt my pride, but it didn’t break my heart.”

  “Brooke’s worried that Lucy will do just that.”

  “What can I say? I’ve been a fool for lesser things, as the saying goes.” Clay watched through the doorway as Lucy exclaimed over the arrangement of greens and berries and ornaments on the mantel. “I’ve been missing her in my life since the summer I turned fifteen. Every time I see her, I feel the same way inside as I did when we were kids.”

  “That’s not necessarily a good thing,” Jesse noted. “You’re not kids anymore.”

  “I just mean that back then, I always knew I could be myself with her, that she’d never judge me, that she knew me for who I really was, and that I never needed to be anyone or anything other than who I am. I still feel that sort of comfort when I’m with her. I’ve never felt that with anyone else, not even my college sweetheart, who I almost married.”

  “Just be careful, okay? Brooke doesn’t want to see you hurt. Hell, neither do I.”

  “I appreciate that, but if there is any way … well, I figure this could be my last chance.”

  “Last chance for what? What is it you want?”

  Clay considered the question for a moment.

  “I want to not have regrets. I want to know that I did whatever it took to see … well, just to see what’s really there between us. I know there was a time when she and I meant a lot to each other. I guess I want to see if there’s any of that left, and if there is, what are the chances that it could be more.”

  “I wish you luck, but you know that even if you’re right, long-distance romances don’t always end well.” Clay could tell Jesse was choosing his words carefully.

  “Like I said, I don’t want to regret what I didn’t do when I could have. We’ll see what happens. But either way, I appreciate your concern and Brooke’s.”

  “Hey, you two,” Brooke called from the parlor. “What are you doing out there?”

  “Chewing the fat,” Jesse called back.

  “That expression always raises the most unpleasant visuals for me.” Lucy appeared in the doorway and gestured for the two men to enter the room. “However, I will ignore them because the visuals in here are just heavenly.”

  She took Clay’s hand and led him into Curtis Enright’s parlor.

  “Look at this tree,” she urged. “Did you ever see anything so glorious?”

  Clay stepped closer to get a better look. “It’s very pretty …”

  “It’s ethereal.” Brooke grinned.

  “Yeah, it’s really pretty,” Clay repeated.

  “Don’t you notice anything about the decorations?” Lucy asked.

  He took a closer look. “They’re all really old?”

  “They all have angels on them, you clod.” Brooke tossed a bit of fern at her brother.

  “Oh, yeah, I noticed that right away.” Clay nodded, knowing full well his sister wasn’t going to buy it.

  Brooke and Lucy both rolled their eyes at the same time, and Clay laughed.

  “Yes, I do see that they are all angels,” he said.

  “Aren’t they just beautiful?” Lucy stepped closer to the tree, her eyes shining.

  “Found them in the attic,” Jesse told them, “under the eaves in a big dusty box. Brooke flipped out when she opened it.”

  “And I still flip out every time I look at t
hem,” Brooke noted. “They are so unique and so beautifully painted.”

  “Any idea where they came from, Jesse?” Lucy continued to walk around the tree.

  “My grandmother had a great-aunt who never married. Pop said she painted some for my grandparents the first year they were married, but my grandmother loved them so much that her aunt painted several more every year until she died.” Jesse stood in front of the tree, his hands in his pockets. “If you look closely, you’ll see that every angel has something in common.”

  “Wings?” Clay couldn’t resist.

  “Something a little more personal to my grandmother,” Jesse told him.

  After studying the tree for a moment or two, Lucy observed, “All the angels are holding roses.”

  Jesse nodded. “My grandmother’s name was Rose.”

  “So very cool.” Lucy took one last walk around the tree. “I love that you brought them down and put them on a tree of their own. It’s a nice way to honor your grandmother. I’m sure Mr. Enright appreciated that you did this. I’m sure it reminded him of his wife.”

  “He doesn’t need any reminders,” Jesse replied, “since he believes she’s still here.”

  “Oh, not you, too.” Lucy glanced from Jesse to Brooke and back again. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Jesse’s granddad says that every once in a while he smells gardenia, which was the only fragrance she ever wore. And when that scent is there, so is she.” Brooke removed a few spent roses from a vase and replaced them with a stem of amaryllis. She turned and added, “I’ve been aware of it myself.”

  “Lucy isn’t a believer, are you, Luce?” Clay sat on the arm of a nearby chair.

  “No, I’m not. And I do find it odd that so many homes in St. Dennis claim to have unseen residents,” she said.

  “Oh?” Brooke slipped the fresh ferns into the vase amid the flowers. “Who else?”

  “Well, Vanessa, for one.” Lucy turned to Brooke. “You came in last night after the discussion about—”

  “Alice Ridgeway.” Brooke smiled. “Everyone knows about her. I thought you meant there was someone else.”

  Lucy looked at Clay first, then at Jesse. “Do either of you buy into this stuff?”

  “It’s hard to know what to think, when you’ve experienced the phenomena,” Jesse admitted. “I’ve been here, in the house with my grandfather, when a very strong, unmistakable scent of gardenia came out of nowhere. Where or what or how … I can’t say.”

  “What does your grandfather say?” Lucy asked. “As I recall, from what I knew of him, he was pretty much a matter-of-fact kind of guy.”

  “He still is, about most things. But he believes that his wife is still here—I’ve heard him talking to her several times, as if he’s carrying on a conversation.” Jesse shrugged. “Who am I to say she isn’t here, in some form, at least to him? Which of course, doesn’t explain the fact that Brooke and I have both caught the scent. And last year, when my siblings were all here, one of my sisters smelled it as well, and my cousin Elizabeth says she’s often smelled gardenias when she’s been here. And before you ask, there are no gardenias in the conservatory.”

  “How about you?” Lucy addressed Clay. “Do you believe in such things?”

  “I don’t not believe,” he told her. “I know too many people who I know to be intelligent and otherwise stable who have had some sort of experience that they can’t explain.”

  “I suppose in a town as old as St. Dennis, with houses as old as we have here, it’s inevitable that there’s going to be some sort of rumors going around,” Lucy conceded. “Sort of a mass hysteria thing, without, of course, anyone actually being hysterical.”

  “Don’t you have any spirits hanging around the inn, Lucy?” Brooke asked.

  “I certainly hope not.” To Clay, Lucy’s laugh appeared slightly uncomfortable.

  “All spirits aren’t evil or scary,” Brooke told her. “Rose is a very sweet and gentle presence. Vanessa says that Alice’s spirit feels protective.” She shrugged. “Who’s to say what can linger, that a person or even an event can leave behind certain emotions, feelings …?”

  “I just don’t believe in anything like that. Sorry.” Lucy brushed her off casually, but Clay thought a look of uncertainty had flickered across her face. “Gone, done … is gone and done, and it’s best to leave it that way.”

  “Whatever.” Brooke smiled. “You ought to talk to your mom, though. She’s been known to—”

  “I don’t believe any of that either. I’m sure she’s just been playing along with everyone,” Lucy insisted.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Brooke rolled up the discarded stems and lifted the bundle. “Ready to move on? We still have the study, the dining room, the sitting room, the conservatory. Oh, if you like orchids, wait till you see the orchids! They were big favorites of Rose’s, too …”

  “Yes, please. I love orchids and I want to see every inch of this place.” Lucy’s smile returned, but Clay wasn’t sure if a little bit of unrest remained behind that smile.

  It seemed to Clay that they had, in fact, seen every inch of the Enright mansion before they left. From the first floor to the third, from the fancy parlor and Curtis Enright’s library to the former maids’ rooms in the attic, they’d gone up and down the two stairways and poked into the bedrooms, all of which had been turned out for the holiday.

  “I’ve never seen such decorations,” Lucy told Brooke after they’d made their way back down to the first floor. “I don’t know anyone who has your touch. What you’ve done here with greens and berries alone is breathtaking. Then add in all those antique tree ornaments and the effect is just one big wow. If you ever think about moving to the West Coast, you could come to work for me that very day. I could use someone with your sense of style.”

  “Thanks, Lucy. I’ve seen your work, so coming from you, that’s quite a compliment.” Brooke beamed. “But I won’t be leaving St. Dennis again. I know where I belong.”

  Brooke looped her arm through Jesse’s and smiled up at him.

  “But if you ever need a helping hand when you’re here, give me a call,” she added. “I’m pretty busy most of the time, but maybe I could fill in for a few hours.”

  “I will definitely keep that in mind. I might need extra hands for the Magellan wedding,” Lucy told her.

  “I’d love to work with you. The inn has the most amazing possibilities, and when you think of what you could create, well, the mind boggles.”

  “Magellan’s wedding will be outside, tented, and all I can say right now is that it will involve truckloads of flowers. I was hoping to meet with Olivia while I was here, but we haven’t signed the contract yet and I don’t want to get her hopes up. It will be a massive job. I just hope her wholesaler can get everything we’ll need.” Lucy placed her bag on a side table while she put on her coat. “And I’ll have to find a really good landscape designer. We’ll need to move the gazebo and have some roses planted around it.”

  “I can recommend my former brother-in-law, Jason Bowers. He sold his previous business and is thinking about starting up again here. You might want to give him a call when you’re ready.”

  “He’s in St. Dennis now?”

  Brooke nodded. “He’s renting one of Hal Garrity’s cottages down near the river while he’s deciding what to do. Of course, we’re hoping he sticks around for a while, if for no other reason than for my son Logan’s sake.” Brooke explained, “Jason is my late husband’s only living immediate family, and he and Logan have gotten pretty tight. I never knew Eric as a boy, so there’s so much that Jason can tell my son about his dad that no one else can.”

  “If we lock up the Magellan wedding, maybe I’ll give him a call, see what he can do with the property,” Lucy said. “Maybe give him a reason to stick around for a while longer.” She glanced at Jesse. “It looks as if you’re okay with that.”

  “I don’t have a problem with Jason. He’s a good guy.” Jesse shrugged. “Besides, if it’s good f
or Logan, it’s good.”

  “Thanks again for letting us invade your family home,” Clay said. “We both really appreciate it.”

  “I live to serve my brother’s whims,” Brooke told them as they walked to the front door.

  “Does that include chocolate ganache cupcakes today?” Clay asked.

  “Ah, no.” Brooke smiled and opened the front door. “But nice try.”

  “So much for my whims.” Clay took Lucy’s hand. “Guess I’ll see you at home later.”

  “Only if you want to help me pack.” Brooke waved good-bye to Lucy. “Don’t forget to call me if you need any help with the wedding.”

  “I’ve already made a mental note,” Lucy assured her.

  “That was so fun,” Lucy told him when they were both in the car and headed toward Charles Street. “That house is just amazing. I still feel starry-eyed. It’s so hard to believe that one person lives there alone.”

  “My mom said a lot of people thought Curtis would have sold the place by now and moved to something smaller, but it’s unlikely he’ll ever do that now.”

  “Especially if he believes his wife is still there,” Lucy noted. “I wonder what will happen to the place when he’s gone.”

  “That’s apparently been the topic of much speculation. Jesse said Curtis is considering leaving it to the town to serve as a museum, but I don’t know if that’s gone beyond the talking stage as yet.”

  “It would make the most glorious event site.” Lucy sighed. “I can see weddings in the garden, or in tents outside on that beautiful expanse of lawn, or in that magnificent hall and parlor. And that dining room—gorgeous. A lot of towns have historic homes that they rent out for events. It’s a great moneymaker, pays the taxes on the place, draws people to the area—”

  “Um, isn’t that what your brother is doing at the inn?” Clay grinned. “I doubt he’d appreciate you encouraging anyone to go into direct competition with him.”

  “It would be competition, but only in the sense that it would be another event location. I think couples who want the inn want the relaxed ambience, that classic Chesapeake Bay experience. Couples who want something much fancier and more lavish would be more attracted to the Enright place.”