On Sunset Beach: The Chesapeake Diaries Page 15

  Ford had been wearing a dark blue polo shirt that deepened the storm-cloud gray of his eyes, and khaki shorts, and looked more like the adventurer he was supposed to be than he had the first time they’d met. His sunglasses had hung from the V of the shirt placket and his hair was a few weeks past needing a trim. Her heart had all but stopped when he walked in. She tried to remember the last time she’d had such a reaction to a man, and sadly had to admit it had been probably never, unless the first time they’d met counted. Or the day he’d turned up at the tennis court …

  “Carly.” Gabi stood on the step two rows down, waving a hand. “I said I’m finished.”

  “Oh. Of course.” The image in her mind began to fade away. “How’d you do?”

  Gabi laughed. “I did fine, but none of us will know if we made varsity or junior varsity until next week. So are you ready to go?”

  Carly picked up her bag and walked down the bleacher steps till she reached the ground.

  “Think we could stop at Scoop for ice cream on the way home?” Gabi leaned heavily against Carly as they walked toward the car.

  “Absolutely, but stop leaning. I’m already so hot from sitting in the sun I’m about to spontaneously combust.”

  “Why didn’t you move into the shade? Or go sit in the car?”

  “I thought it would be rude.”

  “Rude to who? Whom?”

  “To you.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I didn’t expect you to sit and watch. I thought you were going to just drop me off and I’d get a ride home with someone else.”

  They’d reached the car and Carly unlocked it with the remote. “Now you tell me,” she grumbled.

  It seemed that half the town—and most of its visitors—had the same desire for ice cream as Carly and Gabi. The line into One Scoop or Two stretched down the wooden boardwalk almost to the marina.

  “Wow. Looks like Steffie is having an exceptionally good day,” Carly commented when she parked in the only spot she could find in the municipal lot. “I wonder if it’s been like this all day.”

  “Pretty much. Paige was at tryouts and she had to leave as soon as she was finished to get back here to work. She said weekends are the worst, when all the tourists are in town. She said sometimes they even run out of ice cream ’cause Steffie makes it all herself and sometimes she underestimates how many people there will be.” Gabi paused. “Are you coming?”

  Carly looked at the length of the line.

  “We can go in the back door,” Gabi told her. “Steffie lets us.”

  “That’s when you’re with Paige,” Carly pointed out.

  “Yeah, mostly.”

  “I don’t think those people who have been waiting out there in line would appreciate the two of us sneaking in the back door ahead of them.”

  “Probably not.” Gabi thought for a moment. “But if you wait here, I can go in by myself and no one will notice.”

  Before Carly could respond, Gabi was out of the car and yelling that she’d be right back.

  Just as well, Carly thought. The last thing I feel like doing is going back into that heat.

  She turned on the radio, searching for a station that was playing something she could sing along with, when her phone rang.

  “Ellie, hi,” she said after glancing at the caller-ID screen.

  “Hey, where are you?”

  “Sitting in the municipal parking lot waiting for your sister to emerge from the back door of Scoop, ice cream in hand. The line stretches halfway to the marina, so she decided she’d use her friends-and-family pass to go in, get the goods, and slip back out before anyone notices that she cut the line.”

  “She’s a slick one,” Ellie admitted. “But it’s better than waiting an hour for a ice cream cone that’ll take you less than five minutes to eat.”

  “True.”

  “The reason I’m calling … you mentioned you might want to take a look at the house that Sophie Enright was renting.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sitting outside of it right now, key in hand, if you want to come by.”

  “Of course I do, but how did you manage that?”

  “The job Cam had lined up this morning was to help Jason finish painting the apartment on the second floor of Sophie’s restaurant. They’re pretty much done, and since Sophie brought very little of her own furniture with her—she only had some pieces in the bedroom—she doesn’t have much to move other than her clothes and personal items. The lease is still in Jesse’s name, but he’ll sublet to you until it runs out in November. By then, you’ll most likely be back in New York, right?”

  “That’s the plan, yes.”

  “So come over now and take a look.”

  “As soon as Gabi gets back, I will.”

  Carly tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, wishing Gabi would hurry. Now that she knew she’d be in St. Dennis for at least a few months, she was eager to get into a place of her own, a place where she could work at night without being disturbed. She had to admit that were it not for work required to finish Carolina’s book and design the catalog for the exhibit, she’d love the bustle of life in Ellie and Cam’s house. But right now, with so much to be done in so little time, she needed the evening hours to read, and to write.

  Finally, she saw Gabi’s head bobbing along between the cars in the lot. When she drew closer, Carly could see she was carrying only one dish of ice cream.

  “What, you ate yours while you were on the way to the car?” Carly asked when Gabi opened the door.

  “No, Steffie wanted me to work with Paige for a while this afternoon, so I’m going to stay.”

  “Are you old enough to do that?” Carly reached for the bowl.

  “I guess.” Gabi shrugged. “I’ve helped out before when they got real busy, and Paige does it all the time and she’s the same age as me.”

  “Paige is Steffie’s niece, though, right?”

  Gabi nodded. “It’ll be okay. I just have to let Ellie know.”

  “I’m going to see her in two minutes. I’ll tell her.”

  “Great. Thanks. And thanks for coming to tryouts with me.” Gabi blew her a kiss from the open door. “And for staying, even though you didn’t have to.”

  “We’re even. Thanks for the ice cream. Now close the door before it melts.”

  “It’s blueberry cobbler crunch. Steffie just made it this morning.” Gabi slammed the car door and waved, then ran back toward Scoop.

  Carly took two spoonfuls of ice cream and all but sighed. It was cold and delicious and tasted of fresh blueberries, and if she hadn’t been in a hurry, she’d have finished it right then and there. But she was anxious to see the house, so she placed the ice cream container on the console and prayed it wouldn’t tip over.

  The drive to Hudson Street took exactly four minutes, most of it spent at the light at the corner of Charles Street and Kelly’s Point Road due to the number of visitors to the town. But once she turned onto Cherry, it was a quick hop around the corner. An SUV sat in the driveway, the back hatch up, and Ellie’s car was parked on the street out front. Carly parked behind Ellie and went up to the side door, which stood open.

  “Hello,” she called.

  “Carly, in here,” Ellie called back.

  The door led into a small room off the kitchen. Carly followed Ellie’s voice into the living room, which, like the rest of the rooms, was on the small side, but neatly furnished.

  “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.” Sophie Enright poked her head out from a door at the end of a hallway. “I’m on my last load. I think …”

  “Take your time,” Carly told her.

  “It’s cute, right?” Ellie whispered.

  “So cute.” Carly looked around. “She’s not taking the furniture in the living room?”

  Ellie shook her head. “Whatever is still here belongs to Jesse, who doesn’t need it and doesn’t know what to do with it. He took the few pieces he wanted when he and Brooke got married and
he moved in with her. The stuff from Sophie’s bedroom has already been moved out, but the living room and the dining room stuff stays. Oh, and there’s nothing in the kitchen. That all belonged to Sophie and she’s taken it, so you will need some dishes and pots and flatware and all that stuff.”

  Carly walked from the living room through the small dining room that had space only for a trestle table, two chairs, and a bench. Perfect for spreading out her work, she thought as she passed into the kitchen. There was a big window in the middle of the back wall, from which she could see the yard, which was enclosed by a picket fence. There was a brick patio off the back door and several flower beds in which perennials fought weeds for growing space. There were hedges of something thick and green, and clumps of some flowering thing here and there.

  “It’s perfect,” Carly told Ellie when she heard her enter the kitchen.

  “You haven’t seen the bedrooms or the bathroom,” Ellie reminded her.

  “They’re fine, I’m sure.”

  “You’re really anxious to move, aren’t you?” Ellie laughed.

  “No, it isn’t that … well, yes, in a way, it is,” Carly admitted. “I just can’t wait to spread out all those notes and start putting the book together. I can leave everything—notes, photos, journals—on the table in order and not have to put it all away every night.”

  “I totally understand.”

  Sophie came into the room carrying two large tote bags, a garment bag over one arm.

  “I think I have it all,” she told them. “If you find anything that looks like it might be mine, just put it aside and drop it off at the restaurant or the law office when you get the chance.”

  “Thanks for letting me come in and look around,” Carly told her.

  “Hey, it’s yours if you want it.” Sophie started for the door, and the garment bag slipped. Ellie caught it.

  “I’ll take it out for you,” Ellie told Sophie. To Carly, she said, “I’ll be back in a few. I have some things in my car to drive over to the apartment for Sophie.”

  “Take your time,” Carly told her. “I’ll be here.”

  “Give Jesse a call when you make up your mind. Or you can stop in at the law office on Monday morning …” Sophie’s voice trailed away.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” Carly called to her, but she heard the side door open, then close, heard the engines of the two vehicles start up, then fade as both Ellie and Sophie drove off.

  Suddenly the house was very quiet. Carly’s footfalls echoed in the hall as she checked out the downstairs bedrooms. There were two, with a small bathroom between. The bedroom in the back was the larger but had windows on two sides and overlooked the backyard.

  She took the steps to the second floor, where there were two more bedrooms and another bath. She could use one as an office, the other for storage.

  This will be fine, Carly thought as she went back downstairs. Better than fine. She could buy a bed and a dresser and a small kitchen set from that furniture place out on the highway—the one that had a sign promising next-day delivery—and be completely moved in before the end of the week, assuming that Jesse agreed to sublet to her, and it appeared that he already had. She poked her head into the bathroom, and found it, too, to be satisfactory. The tiles were pale yellow and very 1990s, but the sink and vanity top appeared relatively new.

  She could see herself in this house, she thought as she walked back through all the rooms, could see her papers on the dining room table and could see herself cooking in the kitchen and eating at a small table near the back door, and waking up every morning in that back bedroom.

  She went out into the yard and looked around. She could pick up a small table and a few chairs, maybe a lounge, for the patio, so she could sit out here on mornings when it wasn’t too hot, and drink her coffee before heading over to the carriage house. She walked across the yard to the flower bed that grew along the back fence, recalling how her mother had enjoyed gardening in the yard of the house she grew up in. Roberta had prided herself on her roses and her irises, had babied her annuals and doted on her peonies. There didn’t look to be much in these beds, other than the tall weeds, a few rosebushes, and some Shasta daisies. Carly wondered if it was too late to toss some seeds into the soil and see if she could get any annuals to grow. She could call her mother and ask for her suggestions.

  She went back into the house and locked the door behind her. All in all, the little house was more than suitable. She would call Jesse as soon as possible.

  When Carly heard Ellie’s car pull up out front, she walked out to meet her.

  “So you think this”—Ellie gestured toward the house—“will work for you?”

  “Totally. I love it.” Carly stepped back to admire its facade. “It’s a little plain, but it’s nice.”

  “You can get some flowers for that front porch and it will completely change how the place looks. The market in town is selling big pots of petunias. They’re asking an arm and a leg for them, but you’d only need two.”

  “I’ll stop and see what they have. After I speak with Jesse, that is.”

  “You can call him right now, if you’re sure.” Ellie pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her contact list. She handed the phone to Carly to copy the number into her own phone.

  “Thanks.” Carly saved the number. “I’m positive. I’ll call him now.”

  “I’ll see you back at the house, then. Right now I’m going to lock up.” Ellie started toward the house, then stopped and turned back to say, “I’m glad you found a place. I know how important this project is, not just to you, but to everyone in St. Dennis, too.”

  “Thanks, El.” Carly gave her a quick hug. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I left Gabi at Scoop. Steffie needed an extra pair of hands and asked her to stay and work for a while. Gabi said it would be okay with you.”

  “Of course. Thanks for letting me know.” Ellie went into the house, keys in hand, to lock the doors.

  Carly got into her car and immediately rolled down the windows so that the stifling air could escape. She called what turned out to be Jesse’s cell phone, and was disappointed to have to leave a voice mail. She turned on the air-conditioning full blast and reached for the dish of ice cream. Steffie’s delicious concoction had melted into a dark blue, almost purple soup in which whole blueberries floated.

  “Bummer,” she muttered as she got out to dump the mess into the trash can that stood there. She’d just lifted the lid when she heard the phone ringing in the car. She made it back in time to answer it before it went to voice mail.

  “Carly, Jesse Enright returning your call. I understand you’re interested in subletting the house on Hudson Street from me.”

  “I am. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

  “I’m on my way into the office to pick up a file. Do you have time now to—”

  “Yes,” she said before he finished, and they both laughed.

  “Do you know where the office is?”

  “I do. I was there last year with Ellie during that Pirate Day thing.”

  “I’ll see you there in a few.”

  “I am on my way.” She turned the car around in the driveway and headed for the law offices of Enright and Enright.

  All in all, it had been one heck of a day.

  When she woke up that morning, Carly hadn’t expected to have found her place before the day was over, but she was delighted that she had. She couldn’t wait to move her things into the little house on Hudson Street and get to work. The gallery partition was almost finished and she’d found a home for herself for however long she’d need it—not to mention that she’d spent almost two unexpected hours with Ford Sinclair, who was the first guy she’d been interested in since she’d broken things off with Todd the year before. There was something about Ford that seemed dark and mysterious—so different from Todd’s cool bearing—something that had drawn her the first night she met him, before she even knew his name—and she’d see him again on Tuesd
ay for more of the interview.

  Carly could hardly wait.

  Chapter 13

  “WHAT I want is for you to write your article and print it out for me,” Grace replied after Ford called to ask her what she wanted him to do with the notes from his interview with Carly. “And use fourteen-point font so that I can read it. And I want two copies. One single spaced, the other triple spaced.”

  “Why—”

  “So that I have enough room to correct your grammar.”

  “What makes you think I don’t know how to write using correct grammar?”

  “Well, since I hardly ever saw a letter from you, I don’t have much to judge by, do I?”

  She’s on her way back, Ford mused as he hung up the phone. Almost herself again.

  He wrote the article and printed it out as she had instructed, and took both copies to her in her hospital room. He was feeling pretty good about it, thinking he’d done a bang-up job on the article. It wasn’t something he’d particularly enjoyed doing—he wasn’t the writer in the family, and he’d never had any aspirations to follow in his mother’s footsteps, but still, he was pretty sure she’d be delighted with his effort. After all, he’d had a pretty special subject to write about. So he was unprepared for his mother’s reaction.

  “Try again,” she said, waving the sheets of paper at him with her left hand.