On Sunset Beach: The Chesapeake Diaries Page 5

  Inside the carriage house, the air was very still. Dust motes drifted in the light that spilled in from the few small windows and the opened door.

  “There’s a light switch on the wall.” Ellie pointed to it. “We had the electric brought up to code when we were working on the place.”

  She switched on the lights and at once the place came alive. “We had a lot of detail work to try to preserve the old floor, so we needed as much light as we could get.”

  Carly walked the entire length of the building, studying the height of the ceiling and the expanse of wall on each side.

  “I wonder if it would be possible to install a sort of half wall right down the middle,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Like a partition?” Ellie asked.

  “Exactly. Not to go all the way to the ceiling—the beams are gorgeous and it would be a shame to obscure them—but to divide the space.” Carly appeared lost in thought.

  “It’s lovely,” Grace said. “Nice and airy and spacious.”

  “I think this could work.” Carly joined the others near the door, where they still stood. “Ellie, could Cam work up a floor plan if I gave him some specifications?”

  “You’re not thinking that this place could be the gallery?” Ed frowned.

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. The necessary elements for climate control could be installed here much more easily than in the main house, and at a fraction of the cost. The walls will need to be insulated—right now there’s only the exterior stone wall between us and the great outdoors, but that’s a simple fix. You can control the lighting and there’s only one door.” She frowned. “There should be another door. You can’t have people coming and going through the same doorway.”

  “It’s not a big deal to put another door in,” Ellie told them.

  Carly pointed to the side wall. “Right here. If there were partitions down the center of the room, the natural egress is right here.” She walked to the wall and tapped on it for emphasis.

  Grace followed Carly’s gaze around the room. “I think Carly’s right. I think this building could be perfect.”

  “I don’t know.” Ed put his president of council’s hat back on. “We’d need to know what the cost would be.”

  “Cam can work up the numbers,” Ellie assured him. “I feel certain that we can make this place work for way less money than it would cost to retrofit just the HVAC alone into the mansion. We’ll crunch some numbers over the weekend so that we can have them ready for Tuesday night’s meeting.” She paused to defer to Ed. “That is, if you’re okay with this idea.”

  “Get us some numbers and we’ll see. I’m not sure how we could manage the expense.” He clearly was concerned. “There’s money for maintenance in the trust that Curtis set up, but not for improvements.”

  “How would you have paid for the changes that would be necessary at the mansion?” Carly asked him.

  “I don’t think anyone really considered that we’d be looking at huge expenses. I think we all just thought we’d hang up the paintings and charge people to come in and look at ’em.” Ed shrugged. “But I understand why you made the suggestions you made, and I have to agree that we need to do this the right way, or we shouldn’t do it at all. I’m just concerned about the money.”

  “Let’s wait and see what Cam and I come up with. Maybe it won’t be too bad.”

  “If we’re going to charge for tickets to the exhibit, we could make up some of the money that way,” Grace said.

  “There is one other way the money might be raised,” Carly offered. “I’m writing Carolina’s biography—actually, it’s almost completed. Perhaps I could share a portion of the proceeds from the book sales with St. Dennis.”

  “That would be very generous, dear.” Grace was clearly taken with the idea.

  “Do you have a publisher lined up? Have you sold it already?” Ed inquired. “Is the book finished?”

  “No, but I don’t expect I’ll have much trouble selling it. Especially since the plan all along has been to put the book on sale in conjunction with the opening of a major exhibit.”

  “That’s a bit optimistic, don’t you think? You’ll have to find a publisher and that will take time.” Grace spoke up. “Then it’ll have to be printed and so on. I don’t know exactly what’s involved, but I can’t think it would be all that easy.”

  “I can publish it independently,” Carly told them somewhat defensively. “I’ve already looked into it. I can do this.”

  “Well, without knowing what the renovations would cost, this is all academic,” Ed said. “And keep in mind, even if the numbers are reasonable, we’ll need council’s approval. They may just vote to pass on the entire idea of a gallery, or they may go ahead with exhibiting those cat paintings of Hazel’s and forget about Carolina’s.”

  “I think they’ll need to give a great deal of consideration to this,” Grace said thoughtfully. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to put St. Dennis on the map as a cultural destination. It would bring a new dimension to our little bay town, and would attract a different demographic. Art patrons, collectors of American artists, collectors of women artists—I would expect many would want to come to see such an important collection.” She looked at Carly for confirmation.

  “I think we could publicize this in a way that would make the movers and shakers in the art world sit up and take notice. I think they’ll flock to St. Dennis if for no other reason than to say that they were here.”

  “And a good portion of them will want to stay for the weekend. Think of what that could mean for the restaurants and the B&Bs.”

  “Not to mention your family’s inn,” Ed said pointedly.

  “The inn is always booked to capacity the week of the holiday tour.” Grace ignored the implication. “But for others in town, this influx could make a real difference in their bottom line at the end of the year. Plus, I expect that Dallas’s studio will bring in some VIPs. A trendy art gallery will give them just one more reason to stay.”

  “Dallas MacGregor has opened her own film studio in town. She’s already cast her first movie and will be starting to shoot by early fall,” Ellie explained to Carly. “As a huge movie star herself, Dallas has a lot of influence with a lot of people. I’ll bet she’d be happy to invite some of her Hollywood friends to the grand opening of the gallery.”

  “I’m certain she would,” Grace agreed. “Dallas loves St. Dennis and is always looking for ways to promote the town. She’s been a steady patron of Sophie Enright’s new restaurant out on River Road. Sophie tells me that the orders she has every day from Dallas’s studio are keeping her in the black.”

  “I’ll have to bring all of this up to the others on the council and see what they think.” Ed turned to Ellie. “Let me know as soon as you have some numbers to go over. If the costs are reasonable in proportion to the expense, I’ll back the project and see if I can bring the others in line.”

  “We’ll do the best we can,” Ellie assured him.

  “Hopefully,” Grace said, “it will be enough.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll be waiting to hear from you and Cam,” Ed said before turning to Carly. “I checked you out on the Internet and it looks to me like you know your stuff. This would be a big move for a small town like ours. I’m trusting that you’ll be able to pull this off.”

  “Thank you. I’m confident that this could be a big moneymaker for St. Dennis, and as Grace pointed out, a windfall for the town’s merchants as well.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.” Ed turned to the others. “Grace, Ellie, thanks for your time.”

  “We’ll chat after we see the numbers, Ed.” Grace gave a half wave as the man headed toward the end of the driveway and his car.

  “That went well,” Ellie said when he was out of earshot. “All things considered.”

  Grace nodded. “Better than I expected, particularly after you said the old house wouldn’t be suitable. Ed’s a tough nut
to crack, so I was encouraged when he said he’d sign on if the numbers are good.” She tapped Ellie on the arm. “That’s your part in all this.”

  “I can’t see the cost being prohibitive, which it certainly would be if we were to try to turn that old house into a proper art gallery.”

  “Well, there may be some on the council who don’t think the town needs an art gallery.” Grace frowned.

  “I can’t wait to hear what they decide,” Carly said as the three walked up the driveway.

  “Grace, about that list of paintings that Carolina gave away …” Carly began.

  “Yes, Ellie gave me a copy. I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to study it. My son just recently arrived home and I’m trying to get this week’s paper out.”

  “I understand.” Carly forced a smile. “Whenever you get a minute, if you could go over it with me, I’d appreciate it.” She reached into her bag and pulled out one of her business cards. “Just give me a call when you can. If there are other paintings out there, we should track them down. Who knows, someone in town might have a small fortune stashed in their attic or hanging on their guest bedroom wall.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility. I’ll bet a few folks will be in for the surprise of their lives.” Grace chuckled as she put the card in her wallet. “Now, are you here for the week, Carly, or did you drive down only for the day?”

  “I’ll stay tonight and leave sometime tomorrow,” Carly replied. “I hate to be away from the paintings for too long.”

  “Of course.” Grace paused when they reached her car, which was parked in front of Carly’s. “If you have no other plans, try to stop over at the inn tonight. We’re having a welcome-home party for my son Ford, and we’d love to have you both join us. Cam, too, of course.”

  “Cam did mention that Lucy had called with an invitation, so I think he’s planning on it,” Ellie said.

  “Good. I know Ford would want to see him again. They were friends once upon a time.” Grace turned to Carly. “And I hope you do come along.”

  “I don’t know your son, so he might think it’s odd.” Carly made a face. Would it be awkward to attend the welcome-home party for someone you’d never met?

  “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet you.” Grace patted Carly’s hands. “In the meantime, we’ll see if we can lobby more support for the gallery. I have the feeling that you’re going to do great things in St. Dennis.” Grace smiled. “Yes, I do believe there are great things waiting for you here …”

  Carly and Ellie watched the older woman walk up the slight incline of the driveway to her car.

  “Does she sometimes give you an odd feeling?” Carly asked under her breath.

  Ellie shook her head. “Odd like how?”

  “She just gave me this feeling that she …” Carly stopped. How to put into words, even to your best friend, that somehow something—something important—had just passed between her and Grace, and that she had no idea what it might have been.

  “That she what?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. I probably imagined it.”

  “The important thing is that Grace is behind us and will advocate for turning this building into the gallery that you want.”

  “Does she have any influence with the council members?”

  “I suspect she does,” Ellie said thoughtfully. “Remember she owns the only newspaper in town. She can use that as a platform to get people behind the project. Plus, she knows everyone and is pretty much universally liked. I think she could help make it happen.”

  “Assuming your numbers are right,” Carly reminded her.

  “They will be.”

  “You sound so sure of yourself.”

  “I am.” Ellie nodded. “I know this building. I don’t carry prices in my head the way Cam does, but I think the cost will surprise everyone, and I mean that in a good way.” She looped her arm through Carly’s as they headed toward the car. “I’ve been hoping there’d be some way to bring you to St. Dennis to stay for a while. If you think I’m going to let this opportunity pass me by—”

  “Who said anything about staying here?”

  “Do you think you can oversee this”—Ellie waved a hand in the direction of the carriage house—“from New York? Uh-uh. We get the green light, toots, and you’re looking at a couple of months between now and the time the exhibit would open.”

  “So …?”

  “So who do you think is going to be supervising the job, making sure everything is exactly the way you want it? Who’s going to set up the partitions and place the lighting and the air vents and the paintings? Or are you going to delegate all that to someone else?”

  “Good point.” Carly opened the driver’s-side door and got in.

  “Your galleries are covered, right? You have good people working for you?” Ellie slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt.

  “The best.”

  “So you’re covered there. Besides, you’re less than a four-hour drive from New York. You can go back anytime you want.”

  “True enough. Still, I hadn’t thought about staying here indefinitely.”

  “Of course, the other option would be for you to go back to New York and do your thing, and we’ll find someone else to take care of the business here. We could probably find someone in Baltimore or DC who’d love to be involved with our little project.”

  Carly shot Ellie a withering gaze.

  “Thought so,” Ellie said smugly. “So I suggest you make a six-month plan for your directors and your managers, because I have the feeling you’re going to be spending a lot more time here than there.”

  Chapter 5

  THE kayak glided across the water’s surface, following the gentle curve of the Chesapeake into Blue Heron Cove. Ford lifted the paddle and rested it across the hull, content to drift on the waves while they drew him closer to the pebbled beach. It had been years since he’d kayaked this far down the coast, but once upon a time, these waters had been as familiar to him as the paved roads of St. Dennis. Even as a young boy, he’d loved exploring the inlets and coves and rivers, loved the freedom, the solitude, the comfort of being alone on the water with nothing but his thoughts and the local wildlife for company. The stress and conflict he’d been feeling since he arrived at the inn were overbearing, and so he’d sought refuge in the only place where he knew for certain he’d find peace.

  Ford closed his eyes and let the kayak drift closer to shore. He’d slept fitfully since he arrived at the inn, and he was nearing exhaustion. His first night home, he’d stood in the shower, the hot water beating down on him like a summer storm until his skin turned red, and even then he’d been reluctant to turn off the water. He’d joined his family in the main dining room and had been treated to the kind of meal he’d only dreamed about: exquisite, delicate crab cakes, twice-baked potatoes, and grilled summer vegetables, all served with beer from Clay’s own brewery. For dessert there’d been Ford’s favorite blueberry cobbler topped with whipped cream. Before eleven o’clock, he’d crawled into bed between soft clean sheets the likes of which he hadn’t seen in years and fully expected to pass out from the rigors of the last few weeks. He hadn’t anticipated tossing and turning through the night.

  At one point, he’d gone out onto the balcony and let the warm night breezes wrap around him. The sound of the water lapping against the shore was just as he’d remembered. Through the branches of the enormous pines that stood near the shore, he could see the Bay shining smooth as glass in the moonlight, and every once in a while, he’d hear something rustling in the trees or in the shrubs below his room. Whatever else in his life may have changed, the sights and sounds of the Bay had remained the same. The comfort he’d drawn from those few minutes had lured him back to his bed and finally lulled him to sleep.

  He’d been awakened that first morning by a soft rap on the outer door, and thought he’d heard someone moving about in the sitting room. By the time he’d gotten out of bed, wrapped a towel ar
ound his waist, and opened the door, whoever had come in had left. Ford suspected that it had been his brother who’d popped in just long enough to leave a tray of goodies on the console table: a carafe of steaming-hot coffee, a plate of fresh fruit, a croissant flaky enough to have floated off the tray on its own. Ford downed two cups of coffee while he leaned on the balcony railing, nibbled on his breakfast, and watched the inn’s grounds come alive. Even at an early hour, there were couples on the tennis courts, kids in the fenced play area, and sailboats out on the Bay. A lawn mower cranked along somewhere on the grounds, and down below, his sister greeted a smiling couple in the parking lot.

  Ford dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a short-sleeved tee and went downstairs. His mother had gone to a meeting, Lucy was still with her prospective clients, and Dan had the inn to run. Ford had slipped out of the inn and walked down to the waterline. Nearby, kayaks were lined up on the grass for the use of the inn’s guests. He’d selected a twelve-footer, walked it into the water, dropped into the cockpit, and headed off into the Bay.

  That first foray out onto the Chesapeake had been everything he’d remembered. He’d enjoyed it so much that he’d repeated the excursion every morning since. Being alone on the Bay was the only time his head was clear enough to think things through. How best, he wondered, to transition from where he’d been to where he was and where he was going? And where was he going? How to make sense of the life he’d led in contrast to the life he now found himself in? How to adjust to the peace and quiet of this beautiful place when in his mind he still lived amid the chaos of the past few years?

  And ultimately, where did he really belong? Here, or there?

  It didn’t help that everyone Ford saw had asked some variation of the same questions: where had he been, how long was he staying, and had he come back to help his brother run the inn?

  To the latter, he’d responded that Dan was doing a great job on his own and didn’t need help from anyone, but inside he was starting to wonder if maybe Dan resented the fact that Ford hadn’t been around to help, that he’d been off trying to “save the world,” as Dan had once quipped, instead of helping his family to save their business. As he looked around the grounds now, it was hard to imagine that there had been lean years following their father’s death, years when the future of the inn had been in question and there’d been the real possibility that it might pass from Sinclair hands for the first time in its long history. Only hard work on the part of his mother and his brother had ensured that the inn would remain in the family. Had Dan resented that the burden had fallen on his shoulders, and that neither Ford nor Lucy had stepped up?