An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) Page 27

  “Maybe,” Grace grumbled. “You guys drank all the coffee.”

  “Yes, and I had to make it myself because your mother was otherwise occupied. I’m pretty sure you can handle making the second round.” Liddy pointed toward the coffee maker.

  “So who needs a website?” Grace began to make another pot of coffee.

  “I do.” The grin returned to Liddy’s face. “You are looking at the new owner of the Wyndham Beach Bookstore.”

  “Get out.” Grace turned, wide eyed. “You bought the bookstore? Seriously?”

  “Actually, I’m in the process of buying it, but I’m going to be running it as of Saturday.” Liddy explained the current owner’s situation.

  “That’s so exciting. The bookstore is my favorite place in Wyndham Beach. I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Lattimore, though,” Grace said. “He’s such a sweet man. But now that you mention it, he was acting a little strange the last time I was there.”

  “Strange in what way?” Maggie asked.

  “He kept calling me Ellen, like he thought I was Gramma. And he told me that once upon a time, he’d ‘courted’ my sister.” Grace made a face.

  “My aunt Helena was my mom’s sister,” Maggie told her. “She ran off with a woman who taught poetry at Yale. It was a huge scandal, back in the day.”

  “Wow, I’ll bet.” Grace filled the coffee maker and turned it on. “Are they still alive?”

  “The last I heard they were living in an old villa in France and making goat cheese, but that was years ago.”

  Natalie and Daisy ambled into the room. Like her sister, Natalie wore shorts and a tee she’d slept in. Daisy wore a rainbow-striped bathing suit with a glittery unicorn on the front and pink cowgirl boots and carried a fairy wand.

  “If I’d known we had company, I’d have gotten dressed.” Natalie paused. “Nah, probably not. You show up before nine a.m., you take what you get.”

  Natalie hugged Liddy and Emma. “Daisy, can you say good morning to Miss Liddy and Miss Emma?”

  “Good morning.” Daisy waved.

  Emma patted her lap. “Come sit with me for a minute, sugar. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby. And I love your boots.”

  “I’m not a baby now.” Daisy readily climbed into Emma’s lap, then held up both legs to show off her boots.

  “Liddy is buying the bookstore,” Grace told Natalie. “How cool is that?”

  “Really? That’s wonderful.” Natalie opened first one cupboard, then the next. “Mom, where’s the cereal?”

  “Two doors over.”

  “Got it. Yay, Daisy’s favorite O’s.” Natalie found a bowl and poured in the cereal, then placed it in front of her daughter. “So are you going to have story hours for the kiddos? And maybe a book club for the big kiddos? Is there a café there? I haven’t been there in years, but I seem to remember some cozy chairs.”

  “I’d love to do all that in time, but it’s going to take me a while to learn how to do all the things there. If I think too much about it, I get queasy,” Liddy admitted. “But we are quickly moving into summer, and I guess at the very least we should be thinking of story hours for the kids.”

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” Emma teased. “We are not buying the store. You are.”

  “All for one, one for all?” Liddy said hopefully.

  “Of course, we’ll all help where we can,” Maggie assured her.

  “I can do your website,” Grace offered.

  “And I can help set up a story hour. I’d be taking Daisy anyway if you had one. Then when I go back home, it will be up and running.” Natalie smiled. “I’d love to do that. I can sit in one of those chairs . . .”

  “If you’re thinking of those big soft chairs Fred had near the back window, they’ll be the first thing I toss. They’re old and smell musty. Sort of like Fred, now that I think about it. And no, there’s no café there, but maybe there could be. Come in sometime next week and take a look, all of you, and we’ll see what we can do with the place.”

  “There’s that ‘we’ again,” Emma pointed out.

  “Oh, I have a couple of wingback chairs in the attic,” Maggie said. “I brought them with me from Bryn Mawr, but I have no place for them. You can have them for the shop.”

  “Thank you. I’m not too proud to beg these days. Now, we all know none of you would pass up an opportunity to put in your two cents. This time I’m asking you to. Take a tour of the place next week, and let me know what you think about the possibilities. I have some ideas, but I’d love to have yours.” Liddy got up and went to the sink, rinsed her mug, and set it on the counter. “I have to get back home. I need to talk to the bank and call my insurance agent and my accountant and my lawyer.”

  “And I need to get to the art center.” Emma, too, rose, and eased Daisy onto the floor. “Natalie, you should sign up Daisy for the children’s classes. We’ll be starting in another two weeks.”

  “If we’re still here, I’ll definitely do that,” Natalie assured her.

  Maggie walked her friends to the front door to see them off. They’d arrived together in Emma’s car, but Liddy chose to walk. She wants to go past the bookstore, Maggie thought. It’s too early for it to be open, but she just wants to see it and know it will soon be hers.

  She closed the door behind her and went back into the kitchen, where Grace and Natalie were discussing their plans for the day.

  “I think I’m going to play with a potential website for Liddy’s bookstore,” Grace was saying. “It might take a while to get the look right, but I can at least set up the platform.”

  “I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” Natalie said.

  “Oh, sure. I took a class in college, and at the firm we had a really good IT guy. He showed me how to do all sorts of different things.” Grace rolled her eyes. “And we all know what I did with that information.”

  “Ah, yes. My sister the blog star.”

  “I can almost laugh at that now. Almost,” Grace said.

  “Whatever happened to your blog anyway?” Natalie asked.

  “The FBI took it as evidence against Amber.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Grace shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder how some of the women are doing, but all in all, not so much. I don’t really need it anymore.”

  Maggie listened to the exchange as she cleared away the abandoned coffee mugs. Good for you, Grace.

  “Mom. I owe you an apology.” Grace touched Maggie’s arm. “I am very, very sorry. The only thing I can say in my own defense—not that there is a defense for the way I spoke to you last night—is just that I was so shocked. I’m still sort of in shock, actually, and to be honest, I still don’t know how I feel. I’m still trying to work my way through the fact you didn’t tell us until you had to. I mean, if Joe hadn’t contacted Natalie, would you have ever told us?”

  Maggie answered as best as she could. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, regardless of how I feel, I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”

  “Yes, you said things I wish you hadn’t. I’m not going to say I wasn’t hurt. I was. But at the same time, I do understand you’d been totally blindsided. I get it.”

  “I acted like a total brat. Especially after you were so kind and good and nonjudgmental when I screwed up so badly you had to sell Daddy’s law firm.”

  “Don’t carry that guilt for too long, Gracie. I may have sold it eventually, who knows? Your situation merely served as a catalyst to get me off my duff so I could move forward with my life. I doubt I would have taken even one step forward if I’d stayed in Bryn Mawr, in that house.”

  “I think you would have found a way. You’re resourceful and smart, Mom.”

  “I don’t know. I was in such a rut. The house had too many memories. I think over time I’d probably have adopted about twenty cats and had my groceries delivered so I never had to go out again.” Maggie watched Daisy dig into her dry cereal. “Don’t you want milk or maybe some strawberries with you
r cereal?”

  “I like it like this.” Daisy grabbed a handful of cereal from the bowl and ate it one piece at a time.

  “Okay.” Maggie ran her fingers through Daisy’s long blonde hair and smiled. Having her only grandchild with her made her happy. It reminded her that regardless of what had happened in her past, she’d made the right decision to marry Art. It was through him she’d had these two girls—trying and contrary, even occasionally bratty. But she loved them with her whole heart. And through Natalie—thank God Nat was braver than her mother had been and had kept her child!—Maggie had this wonder of a girl to love and watch grow. This was her reward for having survived her life’s storms.

  And now life held one more plum: her son was being returned to her. The reunion could very well be painful, but she felt certain it would be worth it.

  Bring it on.

  Maggie struggled with the email to Joe all day and well into the night. She wrote and rewrote, deleted, and started over more times than she could count. After another sleepless night, she forced herself to sit at her laptop and write what was in her mind and her heart.

  Joe:

  I’m sure by now you know I am the woman who gave birth to you and terminated my rights to you in favor of your adoptive parents. I never knew their names or where they lived. The only thing I knew about them was that the adoption agency thought they were the best people to raise you and that they wanted you very much. I’m sure you have questions after all these years, and I’d be happy to meet with you.

  She struck that last part.

  . . . and I’d very much like to meet with you whenever you like.

  She paused and considered replacing that with “as soon as possible” but didn’t want to put pressure on him.

  Thank you for reaching out to Natalie, and to your father . . .

  She added “birth” before “father.”

  . . . and eventually to me. All my contact information follows—please feel free to contact me when you feel the time is right.

  She debated on how to sign off and eventually decided.

  Looking forward to hearing from you.

  Maggie Lloyd Flynn

  She hit “Send” before she lost her nerve. And now to wait.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  She’d taken Daisy into the backyard and let her pick a bouquet of flowers for the kitchen. Of course, Daisy needed to know the names of every flower and tree, and by the time they’d made the rounds of the entire property, almost an hour had passed since she’d sent her email. When they returned to the kitchen, she saw the voice mail light on her phone blinking.

  She’d expected an email reply and so wasn’t prepared for the strong male voice that greeted her.

  “Hi. Oh, I don’t know what to call you. Is Maggie all right? This is Joe. Joe Miller. Okay, you probably figured that out. I was so happy to get your email. I was hoping you’d want to meet me as much as I want to meet you. Maybe not as much, but at least you’re willing to see me. I can be in Massachusetts any day that’s convenient for you. I have a project in Boston I check in on every other week, and I can drive out there where you are or meet you anyplace you want. Just let me know where and when. I was really happy to hear from you. Okay, I already said that once, but I am. I hope to hear from you soon.”

  Maggie played the recorded message over and over several times, listening to the cadence of his voice. She detected a definite New England accent, not Boston, but more northern, like maybe Maine. She wondered what kind of project he had in the city. What did he do for a living? Had Brett told her? Her mind was buzzing to the extent she could barely think beyond the reality she was going to meet her son. She didn’t trust herself not to sound weepy or overly excited on the phone, so instead of returning the call, she sent a text, which she rewrote four times. She finally decided on, Thanks for getting back to me so quickly! Does Thursday of this coming week work for you? Maybe we could meet halfway for lunch? What works best with your schedule?

  Less than ten minutes later, he replied, Thursday is good. There’s a place in Brockton called Eleanor’s. It’s easy to find, right on the main road going into town. If that is convenient for you, we could meet there at noon. Your call. (Did you know the first department store Santa was in Brockton?)

  Maggie sent a text confirming, then after he confirmed back, she sat at the kitchen window and stared out it for a long time. Finally she got up, pocketed her phone, then set out through the front door.

  “You look like a woman on a mission.” Natalie sat in one of the rocking chairs, watching Daisy play with a train set she’d brought with her and set up on the porch. “Where are you off to, Mom?”

  “I’m just going to walk up to the beach for a few minutes.”

  “Want some company, or . . . no, you don’t look as if you do,” Natalie observed.

  “I think I’d rather fly solo, but thanks. I don’t expect to be long.”

  “We’ll be here.”

  The walk to the beach was a short one. Maggie took off her shoes and made her way through driftwood and tangled loops of seaweed that had washed ashore in the recent storm. She climbed the rocks but didn’t go all the way to the end of the jetty. She sat facing the harbor and the bay, with its islands beyond. She was happy and scared and wondering if somehow she might regret her upcoming meeting with Joe Miller. What would they talk about? They didn’t know each other and very well may not have a thing in common.

  She tried to think of topics that might be nonthreatening. His job would be a good place to start. What kind of projects did he work on? Where did he go to school? What did he major in? He hadn’t mentioned a wife, but he could be married. If he was married, did he have children?

  If he had children, she had grandchildren she’d never met. She covered her face with her hands. It was almost too much to grasp. After all this time, it was almost too much, too soon.

  The sound of shells crunching beneath footsteps drew her attention. She looked back toward the road, and her heart caught in her chest.

  “Hey,” Brett called to her across the beach. He was in uniform, except for the Red Sox cap, which she was pretty sure wasn’t department issued.

  “That’s a good way to ruin those policeman shoes you’re wearing,” she called back, her heart beginning to thump. Keep it casual. “The sand’s pretty wet out here.”

  Could she do casual where Brett was concerned? Now, when the son they’d made together was coming into their lives?

  “I’ll dry them off and knock the sand out later.” He drew closer, and with his aviator glasses covering his eyes, he looked more like the boy she used to know than he had the last time she’d seen him. Of course, that time he’d been sitting behind his desk in the police department. This time he was more in his element. He’d always loved the beach and the water. “Natalie told me I’d find you here. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I won’t stay long if it bothers you.”

  “It’s okay.” She sighed, then said something she hadn’t realized she’d needed to say. “I’m sorry, Brett.”

  “You’re sorry? For what?” He scoffed. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I flew into your office like a harpy. You’d been trying to tell me about Joe, and I kept blowing you off. I should have listened.”

  “The important thing is now you know. But as soon as Jayne told me he’d contacted her, I should have tried harder to get in touch with you. You shouldn’t have had to find out the way you did.” He lowered himself to sit on a rock near her.

  “Still, I said some things that . . . well, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too. For everything. I know I can’t go back and change things, but I’ve been needing to apologize to you for years.”

  “Brett, now’s not the time to—”

  “There’s never been a time. So will you please listen, let me get this all off my chest? This isn’t what I came here to do—but things being the way they are right now, I don’t know if I’ll ever
have this chance again.” Without waiting for her to reply, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention when you tried to tell me how much you hurt inside. It hurt me, too, but I wanted to be strong for you. So I tried to pretend it was all going to be okay. That we’d have other children and we’d go on to have a happy life together. I wanted that to be true. But it seemed no matter how hard I tried, you just got more and more sad as time went on. After a while, it was like there was you before the baby, and you after the baby. And being the jerk that I am, I tried to love the one and ignore the other. I want you to know how sorry I am for not trying harder to understand what you were going through. I’m sorry for not letting you know how much I was hurting, too.”

  She sat still as a stone, listening to words she’d waited forty years to hear. When he stopped, she tried to process everything he’d said before nodding. “I get it. I do. Maybe you couldn’t deal with the fact I couldn’t get over it, couldn’t leave it in the past. I can understand that. What I can’t understand, what’s bothered me all these years, is that you wouldn’t see him. You wouldn’t look at him.” She fought a wave of tears. “He was so tiny and so beautiful, and you wouldn’t even walk down the hall to look at him.”

  “But I did,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

  “What? When?”

  “I went to the nursery the day you were leaving the hospital. I didn’t plan on it, but when I got off the elevator, the nursery was right there. I went up to the window, and I saw the little bed they had him in. I saw the name—Lloyd—on a white card trimmed in blue, and I remember thinking it should have said Crawford, because he was mine. The nurse was wrapping him up in a blanket, and she held him up. ‘Yours?’ she asked. I started to say yes, but then I noticed a couple standing close to the glass. Before I could answer, they both said, ‘Yes.’ They were so excited they were beaming.” Brett’s voice cracked. “It was the only time I let myself wonder if we were doing the right thing.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”