On Sunset Beach: The Chesapeake Diaries Page 9

  “From what I’m hearing, you don’t need to worry about bringing people to the inn.”

  “We’re lucky, full every weekend.”

  “I think it’s more than luck. Mom says you’ve made the place what it is.”

  Dan shrugged. “It’s always going to be a work in progress. We try to update or bring in something new every year.”

  “You’ve obviously done a great job. I can’t imagine anyone doing better.” Ford hesitated before adding, “I wish I’d been around more to give you a hand.”

  “You have your own thing to do. Everyone isn’t cut out for innkeeping, but me, well, it suits me to a tee. There’s nothing else I ever wanted to do. Even when I was a kid, I knew that someday I’d run this place.”

  “Win-win,” Ford said.

  “Pretty much. So what about you? What’s your thing?” Dan turned to look at his brother full in the face. “I mean, now that you’ve saved the world.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t save much of anything,” Ford said.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Thanks, but not really.” Ford sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the fact that you were not working with the UN as a Peacekeeper?” Dan asked.

  Ford tilted his head to one side and studied his brother’s face. “You knew?”

  “A few years ago, D.J. had a report to do for school, and he chose the Peacekeepers as his topic since you were purportedly one of them. He did some research and brought it to me to ask how come you’d been away for so long if Peacekeepers were only supposed to serve for one year.”

  “Under most circumstances, that’s true.” Ford chewed on his lower lip. “He didn’t say anything to Mom …”

  “No. We told him to keep that information under his hat, that Gram would be upset if she knew that you weren’t where you said you were. He got it.” Dan laughed. “But now my son is convinced that you’re working for the CIA.”

  Ford smiled weakly. “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Me and Lucy. She said she figured it out a long time ago after she saw something on TV about the UN.”

  “You think Mom figured it out, too?”

  Dan shook his head. “No. I think she’d have said something if she had. She was worried enough when she thought you were on Peacekeeping Missions. She’d have been nuts if she’d known you were …” He paused. “What were you doing, anyway?”

  Ford got up and walked to the window. There was no way he could tell even his brother everything—every place he’d been and everything he’d done.

  Finally, “I was with a special forces group that served various functions.” He chose his words very carefully. “Most recently, we were to provide backup—security—for a group of Peacekeepers who were in Central Africa. I didn’t tell Mom ’cause I knew it would worry her.”

  “And if you hadn’t come back at all?”

  Ford shrugged. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my call to make, and leave it at that.”

  “So who else was in this backup group in Africa?”

  “Just some other special ops guys.”

  “Sounds very shadowy and covert.” When Ford didn’t respond, Dan added, “Sounds like a lot of muscle to protect a couple of folks on a Peacekeeping Mission.”

  “It was a dicey area.” Ford cleared his throat. “Much of Central Africa is pretty dicey these days.”

  “So who were you supposed to be protecting these people from?”

  “Even the answer isn’t simple. There are so many different factions fighting each other, it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad. There are rebel troops with ties to al Qaeda. There are tribesmen who have traditionally fought with other tribes, destroyed their villages, and made off with the women and kids, and there are rebel forces that are doing the exact same thing. Then you have the legitimate government that isn’t equipped to handle all the chaos—villages being burned, women and children stolen, raped, and/or murdered, boys of nine and ten being taken to serve as soldiers. The UN had Peacekeepers on the ground, but many of them were caught in the cross fire. Getting them safely out of the country was part of our mission.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Not so good,” was all Ford said.

  “I’m sorry.” Dan moved from the arm of the sofa to one of the seats. “I can see this isn’t something you want to talk about, and I’m sorry for pushing you. I had no idea …”

  Ford could tell his brother was rattled.

  “Look, it’s okay. You had no way of knowing since I hadn’t shared much of anything with you over the past few years. It isn’t something that I like to talk about … so much went wrong in so short a time.” Ford shrugged. “I think it was a mission set up to fail in the first place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a situation where people who want to do good are sent into all this chaos and you expect them to work miracles. To be a calming influence on a bunch of hotheaded egotists who are all out for their own gain. You put them in the middle of a civil war that is complicated by having outside forces—namely al Qaeda—trying to manipulate the population.” Ford shook his head. “It had disaster written all over it.”

  “Why are so many factions so eager to be in control?”

  “Oil,” Ford said simply. “Huge resources as yet untapped. The government hasn’t had the means to extract, refine, and move it. There are lots of folks who’d like to help them do just that.”

  “So how did you manage to get out?”

  “We were heavily armed and had helo support. I never figured us being in danger.”

  “All of your people got out alive?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “So, what’s your status now? Are you out? In?”

  “I’ve been discharged.”

  “What are your options now?”

  Ford shrugged. “I don’t know. I went into the army right from college, then volunteered for the Rangers. Got recruited for this unit. Frankly, I haven’t been trained to do much more than …” He hesitated.

  “Dangerous stuff.” Dan filled in the rest. “I guess someone has to.”

  Ford could have debated that point, but he let it ride.

  “I thought I’d take some time while I was home to think over where I go from here.”

  “You can always help me run the inn,” Dan offered.

  “Thanks, but I think you have that covered.”

  “Always room for another pair of hands around here. Just keep it in mind while you’re mulling things over.” Dan stood. “Consider it an option.”

  “Will do.” Ford rose as well. “Just don’t say anything to Mom. She seems so happy that I’m here that I don’t want her to start worrying prematurely.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Ford walked his brother to the door. “But while we’re on the subject … does Mom seem, I don’t know, older to you?”

  “No older than she seemed last week, or the week before. Why?”

  “She just seems … well, older than I remember.”

  “Ford, she is older than she was the last time you were home. That was six years ago. She’s midway through her seventies now.” Dan opened the door, then leaned against the jamb. “Frankly, for a woman her age, she’s remarkable. She’s totally independent, goes where and when she pleases, puts a newspaper together mostly on her own every single week, and she’s in perfect health. She’s a bit of a legend around St. Dennis, you know. Everyone says they want to be just like Grace Sinclair when they get to be her age. She’s a role model for a lot of people.”

  “I guess in my mind she was still in her sixties and walking five miles every day …”

  “She still does that, pal. Don’t ever underestimate that woman. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not let her know that you think she’s aging,” Dan cautioned. “She will eat you up and spit you out before you know what’s happened.”

  Ford laughed. “That’s the mother I
remember.”

  “She hasn’t changed. God willing, she never will. She’s ageless.” Dan stepped out into the hall. “See you at dinner. Oh, and a heads-up: D.J.’s going to ask if he can kayak with you on Saturday morning. He’s been itching to go out beyond Cannonball Island and I won’t let him go past the point alone. If you don’t want to be bothered, it’s okay.”

  “It’s fine. I’d love to have him come with me.”

  “Thanks. I’d go but we have a wedding on Saturday morning and a second one at night. Besides, I still don’t really like kayaks.”

  “Still got that old sailboat of yours?”

  “The Sunfish? Yeah. She’s been painted a couple of times and has had a little work done here and there over the years. I had to replace the sail again before I took her out this summer, but she’s still my number one ride when it comes to the Bay. And it’s still the most popular sailboat ever made.” Dan grinned. “Moves a lot quicker across the water than that old kayak of yours.”

  “Speed only matters if you’re in a hurry. When I’m on the water, I like to take my time. Chill. Enjoy the scenery.”

  “Smell the roses.”

  “Something like that.”

  Ford watched his brother set out down the hall and disappear around the first corner, then closed the door and went back into the sitting room. Funny, it had never occurred to him that anyone would have guessed that he hadn’t been part of a UN unit. That it had been his eleven-year-old nephew who’d figured it out put a smile on Ford’s face. Smart kid. Even though he appreciated his time alone, he’d enjoy being with his brother’s son and getting to know him. Everything he’d seen of the boy had been thumbs-up. Considering that Dan was raising D.J. and Diana on his own, Ford had to give him credit. It couldn’t be easy, being a single parent.

  Of course, Dan wasn’t exactly alone. He’d always had Mom around to help out with the kids, even before his wife, Doreen, died. And that had been how many years ago? Ford was hard-pressed to remember for sure, but he thought it was around eight years. D.J. had been really little when his mother died, maybe three or so. Ford thought it might have been the year Diana started kindergarten. He’d only been in the army for a few years and hadn’t been able to secure a leave to come home for Doreen’s funeral, which had pissed him off mightily. He was certain his brother would never forgive him for not being there, but when he’d told his mother this, Grace had assured him that Dan had barely noticed who’d been there and who hadn’t.

  Apparently that was true. Dan had never brought it up, so if in fact he’d been aware that Ford wasn’t there the day they buried Doreen, it must not have bothered him.

  “The thing that mattered,” Grace had told Ford, “was that Doreen was gone. Who was there in the church or who was there at the cemetery was immaterial. His wife was gone. When you grieve the way your brother grieved, not much else gets your attention.”

  Ford wondered what it was like to love someone so much that when they were gone, you were blind and deaf to everything going on around you. Knowing firsthand how fragile life could be, how uncertain, he wasn’t sure it was worth it.

  Ford had never really known Doreen all that well. He’d met her several times, had been his brother’s best man at the wedding, but he’d never gotten to really know her. He knew that she’d been a huge help to both Dan and Grace in running the inn, that she’d agreed to put off having her children until Dan felt that he had the inn under control and in the black, that she’d been a terrific mother to her daughter and her son. He’d have been embarrassed if he’d had to admit it, but he’d had to look at her photo on the mantel in the family suite to recall what she looked like.

  And all he knew of her passing was that she’d drowned somewhere out in the sound, alone.

  Which explained why Dan wouldn’t allow D.J. to go out past the point by himself.

  Well, it might be fun to have the company, he thought, and probably as close as he might ever come to knowing what his father felt when he kayaked with Ford. The chances of him settling down here and having a son were about as slim as … Ford thought for a moment of a proper analogy, then smiled. About as slim as his mother slowing down.

  The thought cheered him. He wanted to think of his mother as eternal, even though he knew that she was mortal and would eventually pass on. That, of course, wouldn’t happen for a long time. That pink bunny he saw on TV had nothing on Grace Sinclair.

  He went to the side window and looked out. From there he could see the children’s playground, the tennis courts, and in the background, the blue-gray of the Chesapeake. Maybe he’d take a stroll around the grounds, check out a kayak that might be suitable for a young boy, make sure it’s in proper condition for a trip around Cannonball Island, maybe even beyond, depending on how good the kid is. Maybe he’d take the long way round to the dock, the path that looped around the courts. He wondered if the pretty blonde was still at the inn, if right now she might be one of those women outfitted in white shorts lobbing balls back and forth across the clay court.

  It wouldn’t hurt to look.

  Chapter 8

  CARLY propped up the painting—one of her favorites—on the counter in her parents’ kitchen where the lighting was best. Carolina must have painted it from memory, she thought, unless she’d managed somehow to paint it from a boat, as the perspective was one of looking inward from the water at a small cove and its narrow stretch of beach.

  The sand had a yellowish cast and the loblolly pines that stretched along the left side were pale green in what looked to be the fading light of afternoon. On the beach, a couple sat upon a blanket that had been spread on the sand. A basket was placed on one corner of the blanket and a bottle of wine and two glasses topped the basket. Obviously a picnic on the beach, but it was clear that neither the man nor the woman had any interest in food or wine as they gazed at each other with such intensity. The woman was dressed in the style popular in the 1920s, the skirt fanned around her legs. Her dark hair was loose and fell in thick curls onto her shoulders, and her wide-brimmed hat lay forgotten on the sand as she gazed into the eyes of … whom? Her husband? Lover?

  The title of the work had been written in a clear hand on the back of the painting: Stolen Moments.

  A tickle went up Carly’s spine every time she looked at it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that those stolen moments had been Carolina’s. Could it be possible, she mused, that her artist had had an affair, and that the painting might be the evidence? It was highly unlikely that the man in the painting was James Ryder, Carolina’s husband, who’d made her life so miserable. For one thing, Carly couldn’t imagine Carolina would have looked at him the way she was looking into the eyes of the man in the painting with complete and total adoration. For another, the date on the back of the painting was 1927, and Carly knew from Carolina’s journal entries that James Ryder had died in 1924. And while the work lacked the kinetic energy of so many of Carolina’s works, there was a vibrancy surrounding the subjects that was impossible to ignore. She hadn’t mentioned it to Ellie, thinking that in this case, showing was definitely better than telling.

  She was wondering if it might be provocative to use this painting for the cover of the exhibit catalog when the phone rang.

  Carly’s heart beat a little faster when she read the caller ID.

  “So what do you know?” she immediately asked. “What have you heard?”

  “That the town council likes the idea of being the ones to introduce the art world to the body of Carolina Ellis’s work. They like the idea of you sharing revenue from the book proceeds with them to help pay for the work on the carriage house,” Ellie replied. “They especially liked that part.”

  “Too bad you can’t see me. I’m pumping my fist in triumph,” Carly told her. “So what happens now?”

  “One thing at a time.” Ellie laughed. “Don’t you want to know how the voting went, or what Grace said to convince the members of the council?”

  “Nope. I want to know when we ge
t started.” She corrected herself. “When you get started. You and Cam.”

  “You were right the first time. As you and I discussed before, they definitely want you to be here to oversee it. Cam will, of course, take full responsibility for the work, but as someone pointed out, if it wasn’t done to your specifications, you could conceivably come back and make us do it over. So they want you here while the work is being done, and then they want you to prepare a timetable of when you expect to be able to open the exhibit. There’s a great deal of interest in making a big announcement about Carolina’s work. Grace mentioned it would bring in lots of additional foot traffic to town, and since everyone on the council has a business of some sort …”

  “They’re all seeing dollar signs,” Carly completed the sentence.

  “Pretty much.”

  “I thought they wanted the exhibit to open in conjunction with some sort of holiday tour in St. Dennis.”

  “That was before they started seeing the dollar signs. Now it’s ‘How soon can we get this off the ground?’ ”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them it would depend on how soon you could put the exhibit together.”

  “I don’t have a quick answer for that.”

  “Of course you don’t. I didn’t expect you would. But I think it’s safe to say that you’ll be hearing from Ed at some point today. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. What you tell him is your business.”

  “How soon can Cam line up an HVAC guy?”

  “The guy he has in mind is new to the area and eager for work. He’ll be available to start as soon as Cam gives him the go-ahead.”

  “I appreciate the heads-up. Hopefully by the time Ed calls, I’ll have some sort of timetable in mind.”

  “Oh, who are you kidding?” Ellie teased. “You know how much time you’ll need.”

  Carly laughed. “Sort of. What I won’t know until we get working on the building is how much exhibition space I’ll have, which translates into how many works I can include. Once I know how many of what size, I may have to start to cull the herd, so to speak.”