Chapter Three
Jared stood on the deck of the Cordelia Elizabeth, one of several salvage boats owned by his family’s company, Chandler and Associates, and watched the sun go down. He’d stayed at the inn for the past week, leaving a crew member on board in his absence, but he didn’t think it was fair that the poor guy was stuck on the ship while Jared got to enjoy the comforts of the town. After dinner, he borrowed an outboard from Owen and headed out to the Cordy E, as he referred to the boat, and traded places with the crewman with instructions on where to return the outboard.
That act of altruism might have caused another man to rethink his generosity, but Jared didn’t mind being alone on an anchored boat. Being stationary in the Chesapeake was nothing like being anchored in the ocean. Here the waves were much smaller and the evening more peaceful. He’d sit in his cabin and read for a while, then he’d let the natural rhythm of the boat rock him to sleep. It would be a win-win sort of night for him.
He could have talked the blonde he’d met at Captain Walt’s the night before into sharing the bunk with him, but she’d fawned over him to the point where he couldn’t take any more, and the thought of spending more time in her company gave him a headache, regardless of the fact that she’d made it apparent she’d be happy to share his bed, on land or at sea. He’d admit he’d considered it for the briefest moment, but in the end, he realized he just didn’t want to be bothered with a woman who just couldn’t stop telling him how cool she thought he was, and who constantly called him cutie or handsome or hot stuff, as if he didn’t have a real name.
Where had his head been when he’d even considered it?
He was pretty sure he knew.
While he liked to be appreciated—who didn’t?—he hated to have anyone hang on him. He didn’t understand why certain women thought that was the way to get a man’s attention. Maybe that worked for some guys, but he was thirty-six, way beyond the age where he needed that kind of ego boost.
Why couldn’t all women be like Chrissie Jenkins? He’d spent the better part of an hour with her and she’d not even so much as batted her eyelashes at him. She hadn’t acted flirtatious or silly or laughed too much at things he said.
Not that he was interested in Chrissie that way, but still. That’s how women should act, in his opinion. Just natural and carry on an adult conversation without showing off what you knew about anything. That’s what made him think twice about a woman. Like he was thinking about Chrissie.
Not that he was attracted to her in that way, but he liked to be with her. He liked her no-nonsense personality.
Which wasn’t really a surprise, since he’d been raised by a no-nonsense kind of guy. His father, Gordon, was one of the best-known and most highly respected salvagers in the country, maybe even the world. He’d been called upon by governments, corporations, and private citizens to retrieve the lost—artifacts, ships, remains of crew members—from the bottom of the sea. He was scrupulously honest and was recognized as a man who respected the past. Such a man had no time for silliness or frivolity—especially having found himself a single parent when his children were twelve and eight.
Jared had few memories of his mother, who, as a concert pianist, had been away from home almost as much as his father had been. He and Rachel had been raised by their mother’s aunt Bess in her Boston home. Most of what he remembered of his early childhood was someone coming home and someone leaving. Both parents had rarely been home at the same time, and Jared had been an adult when he discovered the reason their mother had made fewer and fewer visits home.
After their aunt died, Jared had been designated executor of her will, which meant, among other things, he’d be responsible for cleaning out the Boston house in which he’d grown up. Rachel was on an important dive at the time, or he’d have talked her into joining him. But as it was, he’d been alone in the old brownstone for the weeks it took him to go through the contents of the house and decide what to sell, what to put in storage. The furniture was easy enough to dispose of—he’d called in an antiques dealer, and having determined that neither he nor Rachel wanted any of the large pieces, sold almost the entire lot on the spot. It was the small things he’d gone through that had been the most difficult to part with.
The jewelry had been set aside for Rachel, everything in the old wooden chest where Bess had kept her good things. Some pieces called up memories, like the gold brooch in the shape of a rose that she wore most frequently on the collar of her favorite coat, and the sapphire ring that had belonged to her mother that Aunt Bess had always worn on the middle finger of her right hand. Then there was the envelope he’d found marked with his mother’s name—Amelia.
He’d held on to the envelope—unopened—for most of that day, opening it only later when he took a break. He’d poured a cold beer and taken it into the living room, where he sat on the sofa, opened the envelope, and spilled its contents onto the table. Inside had been a plain gold wedding band and a gold ring with a diamond flanked by two sapphires—these, he assumed, had been her wedding and engagement rings. But there were other pieces as well, pieces that were obviously expensive, beyond what he would have expected his father to have bought. Then again, he’d thought at the time, who knows what gifts a man might choose to dazzle the woman he loves?
Jared had packed up the envelope and sent it to his father, thinking Gordon might reminisce about the moments he and Amelia shared when he’d gifted her with each piece before passing it all along to Rachel. Then Jared found the cache of letters his mother had written to his aunt.
Amelia had poured her heart out about the man she’d fallen in love with, the man she couldn’t have because he, like she, was married. Reading the story of his mother’s love affair had felt like a sucker punch to the jaw. Jared’d never questioned that his mother’s artistry as a pianist had been in such demand that she’d traveled through Europe pursuing her career. Finding out so many years later that she’d chosen to stay away for the sake of a man she couldn’t have—a man she’d chosen over her son and her daughter—had shaken him to his core. He hadn’t planned to tell his father, but by the time he’d made his discovery, the package had already been delivered. It had been Gordon who’d later called to say he’d sold every piece and wanted the proceeds to be shared equally between his children. Without thinking, Jared had declined.
“I don’t want any part of it,” he’d snapped. “Nothing that she’d—” He stopped midsentence, remembering whom he was speaking with.
“Nothing she’d been given by her lover.” Gordon had seemed matter-of-fact about the situation. Jared thought his father had probably known the truth for years. “I understand. What shall we do with the money?”
“Burn it.” Jared had shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“What if we do something a little more constructive with it? Delia told me about a proposed women’s shelter outside of West Chester, where she lives. The money would go a long way toward purchasing the building they want to buy,” Gordon said.
“Fine. Let’s do it,” Jared had readily agreed. “Dad, I haven’t said anything to Rachel. About Mom, I mean.”
“I see no reason to do that at this time. However, if at some point it becomes relevant, by all means, share what you know,” Gordon had said stiffly before immediately changing the subject to an upcoming dive he wanted Jared to make in his father’s stead.
He and Gordon had never really addressed his mother’s infidelity. Jared could understand his father not wanting to discuss it, but there were times when Jared wished he’d bring it up. He had so many questions, and he was pretty sure his father had the answers. It wasn’t an easy subject to approach. How did you ask your father to tell you about your mother’s affair with another man?
It bothered Jared sometimes, mostly when he’d been dating someone he liked. He’d start thinking about how maybe things could work out, then he’d think about his mother, and he’d remember how she’d abandoned him and his sister, how she’d betrayed his father. Then he’d break off any relationship that looked like it might go somewhere beyond the superficial, because all things considered, superficial was good enough for him. Superficial didn’t burn when either of you moved on.
He knew how cynical he was. He just didn’t care. Even his sister had called him out on it, but he’d merely agreed with her.
“You don’t give anyone a real chance,” she’d said after he broke off with a woman Rachel had liked.
“Maybe I just haven’t found someone I thought was worth taking a chance on,” he’d told her.
“Yeah, well, I think you’re going to die a lonely old man.”
“Maybe so. But at least I won’t be a lonely old man with a broken heart.”
“As far as I know, all the broken hearts have been on the other side of your relationships,” Rachel had said. “So why would you even say something like that?”
Rachel wouldn’t understand. She didn’t know about their mother’s betrayal, so it had been easy for her to fall in love and marry a guy who she could believe loved her enough to stay true to her and to be a loving father to their boys.
Sometimes Jared wished he didn’t know, either.
For some reason, he thought about Chrissie, about how she’d alluded to having had a relationship that hadn’t worked out, and he wondered who had been responsible for the breakup, her or the guy.
Jared guessed it was the guy’s fault. She didn’t seem like the type to mess around. Of course, he didn’t know her all that well. He could be wrong.
He sat on the deck, leaning back against the cabin wall, and raised his eyes upward to where a thousand stars were beginning to shine through the dark of the night sky. It was a sight that always comforted him as a young boy when he’d accompany his father on one of his ventures. He’d been nine the first time. They’d gone searching for a lost Spanish galleon off the coast of Florida. At night he’d sit out on the deck, just like this, and look up and wonder if his mom was looking at the same sky, the same stars. He hadn’t known then about time zones or love affairs. All he’d known was that he missed his mother, and that maybe right at that moment, she was thinking about him, and they were sharing the stars.
Jared didn’t have anyone to share the stars with, and he was okay with that. He was here to do a job, but he was growing impatient and bored. He just wished he could get on with it. There was only so much one could do in a town like St. Dennis.
He went downstairs to his cabin, turned on the lights, and picked up the book he’d started reading the week before. Propping pillows behind his head, he found the place where he’d left off, and fell back into the story.
• • •
IF LUCY HADN’T given her tickets and a personal invitation, Chrissie most likely would have skipped the fashion show. She’d never had much interest in clothes, mainly because for most of her life she hadn’t been able to afford much beyond the basics. Over the past few years, she’d almost completely given up on the way she looked. Doug didn’t appear to notice, though she knew he’d beat the crap out of anyone who did. Best to not stand out, she’d learned.
She showed the tickets to Ruby and said, “Lucy gave me these for a fashion show they’re having at the inn tomorrow night.”
“Be nice for you to get out with others your age.”
“Come with me?”
“What I be wanting to do that for? I got no interest in clothes other than what I got to wear. No.” Ruby shook her head. “You be going without me.”
“Nope. If you don’t go, I’m not going.”
“Oh, yes you are. Lucy be nice enough to give you those tickets, you be using one.”
“Ruby—”
“Don’t want to hear another word ’bout that. You be going and you be having a good time.”
Chrissie’d never been to such an event, so she had no idea what to expect, but she’d gone, and was surprised that she’d had a great time. For one thing, the food prepared by the inn’s kitchen had been incredible. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been served such a meal. The appetizers had been as delicious as the entrée and the dessert, though she had to stop herself from mentally critiquing the sauce for the chicken, which she thought was a little heavy on the blood orange juice, and the chocolate caramel crème brûlée, which would have benefited from just a smidge of coarse sea salt sprinkled on just before serving. Still delicious, but she’d have tweaked the recipes.
It seemed that in St. Dennis, casual dress ruled, so most of the items on display were easy, seasonal, pretty, and too often expensive. The models were all local women, including Dallas MacGregor, who’d married the town vet, and Mia Shields Beck, the wife of the police chief, who both modeled casual attire. Shirley Wyler, Steffie’s mother, modeled vacation wear, and Carly Summit Sinclair, the wife of Grace’s son Ford, modeled the more formal dresses in the show. Savvy businesswoman that she was, Vanessa offered a 20 percent discount on the purchase of any of the items shown that night and had made certain to include clothing appropriate for women of every age. To this end, she’d asked Dallas’s grandmother, the film actress Beryl Townsend—known to all in town as Berry—to close the show wearing a cocktail dress that proved that even at eighty-something, a woman could shine. Berry definitely brought down the house.
To Chrissie, the best aspect of the evening hadn’t been the remarkable food or the beautiful clothes. It had been so long since she’d had friends that she’d forgotten how good it felt to spend time with other women who laughed and chatted and freely shared bits of themselves. That she could make friends of her choosing, enjoy an evening out without worry of how to explain where she’d been and whom she’d been with, felt like the greatest gift she’d ever been given. Stepping out on her own meant she was free of her past. All friends of Lis’s, the women had been fun and lively and accepting of Chrissie into their group, which consisted of Lis, Cass, Steffie, and Sophie.
“Do you love that yellow sundress?” Steffie had whispered to the group. “I do.”
“I’d wear that,” Cass agreed.
“What about that red and white one?” Sophie asked.
They all agreed the red and white sundress was perfect.
“How ’bout that pale pink shirt and the white pants?” Lis nodded in the direction of the model who was just hitting the runway.
“My dear, this year it’s blush, not pale pink.” Steffie adopted an affected accent. “Please. Keep up with the trends.”
Lis laughed. “I stand corrected. I do love that blush-colored silk top. It would look great on you, Stef.”
Steffie shook her head. “My boobs are too big to wear something that low cut. Those ankle pants, though. I might stop at Bling this weekend and try those on. They’re perfect.”
“Stef, there’s your mom,” Lis pointed out. “She looks stunning. Actually, she’s looked fabulous in every outfit she’s modeled. I want to look like her when I’m in my sixties.”
“I love that fuchsia dress on her.” Stef beamed as her mother turned and posed. “Maybe I’ll buy it for her birthday. She’d never spend that much money on one outfit for herself and it’s so her. And Vanessa’s giving us a twenty percent discount, so I’m in.”
Chrissie sat silently for the most part. When she said she really had never been into clothes, she hadn’t been kidding. She’d never been in Vanessa’s shop, but it had the reputation of being pricy. Still, she was surprised to see a few items she liked in spite of herself and might actually wear. A pretty sundress, a few tops, and those ankle pants—she might stop into Bling one day soon and try on a few things.
Then again, where would she wear such pretty clothes? She really didn’t go anywhere other than the store, the inn, and a few shops in St. Dennis when she ran errands for Ruby or to food shop. Those were the boundaries of her life, and she was okay with that. Small though her world might seem, it was infinitely wider than the one she’d left behind.
Vanessa had pulled out all the stops at the end of the show, and the dressy outfits on the runway took everyone’s breath away. Dallas modeled a stunning blue silk dress that hugged her beautiful figure and set off the platinum of her hair and the lavender of her eyes.
“She’d look that good in anything. An old grain sack, muddy boots, and ripped jeans—it doesn’t matter,” Steffie’d said with a sigh. “It was my luck to marry the guy whose sister was one of People magazine’s most beautiful women in the world.” She sighed. “I could hate her if she wasn’t also the nicest person I ever knew.”
After the show ended, Lucy proposed they move to the inn’s bar for a glass of wine to top off the night. She’d asked the server to push together several tables so they could sit together, and several bottles of wine appeared—on the house, at Grace’s direction before she called it a night. Vanessa joined them after she had the clothes from the show packed up and ready to return to her shop. Her arrival was met with applause and a toast.
“To Ness, who keeps us well dressed and stylish. May she never forget that friends-and-family discount,” Lucy said.
Steffie entertained them with the latest antics of her two-year-old twins, Daisy and Ned, who just that morning had decided to make cookies. On the kitchen floor. With an entire bag of flour, a canister full of sugar, an entire carton of eggs, and half a stick of butter. All of which they mixed together with their bare feet.
“I just stepped out onto the deck to take a call from one of my suppliers. I thought the kids were in the TV room watching cartoons. Came back inside to find two cherubs covered with mooshed-up eggs and butter and flour and sugar sticking to them everywhere.” She took a drink from her wineglass. “ ‘Yook, Mama! Neddie make ’ookies!’ ” She took another sip and with a wide grin added, “Wade said it took him all morning to clean up the mess.”
“Wait, you left your husband to clean it up himself?” Chrissie asked.
“He offered. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere, and I had to open the shop. He’s great about stuff like that, and frankly, I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t. This girl has a business to run.”
That tale was followed by Vanessa’s lamenting that her husband, Grady, a former FBI agent, was thinking about going back to the bureau.
“I thought that wilderness guide thing he had going for him was doing well,” Lucy said.
“It’s doing really well. He’s just getting bored. He talks to his brothers and his cousins, all of whom are agents, and he starts thinking he’s missing something.” Vanessa held her glass up to Lucy for a refill. “Once a G-man, always a G-man.”
“Maybe he’ll get over it,” Lucy said.
“Maybe.” Vanessa sighed, then brightened. “But someone here has good news.” She looked directly at Sophie.
Sophie Enright Bowers, who owned Blossoms, the only eatery on River Road, laughed. “Okay, yes, fine. I’ll spill.” She took a deep breath. “Jason and I are having a baby.”
“Which explains the glass of club soda,” Lis noted. “I was going to ask you about that. Congratulations to you both.”
“Do you know what you’re having?” Lucy asked.
“I do, but Jason doesn’t want to know, so I haven’t told him. I just have to be careful not to let it slip.”
“You can tell us,” Vanessa whispered. “We won’t tell anyone.”
Sophie laughed. “Uh-uh. Not sharing. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason. But I appreciate the offer of confidentiality.”
Lucy made a toast to the parents-to-be, and everyone raised their glasses, then took a drink.
“So I guess you’re going to be cutting back your hours at Blossoms,” Cass said.
“Eventually. I’ve been having leg pain, which isn’t helped by standing in the kitchen, cooking from before dawn till two in the afternoon.” Sophie rubbed her temples with her fingers. “I love my restaurant, but this is our baby.”
“What did the doctor say?” Steffie asked.
“I’m going to see her on Monday.”
“You have employees, though,” Cass pointed out. “They can take over, right? You still live upstairs from the restaurant, and Jason’s business is right next door.”
“Joan, our other cook, is leaving in two weeks for Hawaii with her boyfriend. His father owns a pineapple grove and they’re going to work for him so the dad can retire.” It was obvious she was forcing her smile. “I’m not going to worry about it now. I’m going to assume all is going to work out and I’ll have lots of time to find someone to replace Joan.”
Chrissie felt as if her heart stopped in her chest. She looked up to find both Cass and Lis staring at her, slight smiles on their lips, as if they knew what questions were going through Chrissie’s mind.
How big was the restaurant? What sort of food did they serve? How many employees? How extensive was their menu?
It was neither the time nor the place to ask. She’d check out Blossoms for herself, see what it was like, then maybe she’d approach Sophie about applying for a job when Sophie was ready to hire someone. She’d already checked out Captain Walt’s, but she thought it was too heavy on seafood. As much as she liked cooking fish, crabs, and oysters, she did prefer a little more variety in the menu. The same held true at the Blue Claw, a seafood restaurant on the highway. It was to be expected, she knew, since St. Dennis was on the Chesapeake, but still. Variety was important to her.
The party began to break up, and after saying their good nights, Chrissie, Lis, and Cass walked out together.
“Chrissie, do you need a ride home?” Cass asked. “Owen’s picking me up. We can drop you off.”
“I drove, but thanks for the offer,” Chrissie replied as they crossed the lobby.
“We should have coordinated this better,” Lis said. “I drove, too. And there’s Owen, right on time.”
“Is that Jared he’s talking to? Damn, it is. I hope they’re not going to start diving again this week. I was hoping to put Owen to work painting the new kitchen.”
Owen looked up and smiled broadly when he saw his wife, and it was obvious to everyone but Jared that Owen had tuned him out.
“You ladies done for the night?” he asked, his eyes still on Cass.
“We are,” Lis replied.
“Hey, Chrissie.” Owen appeared to have just noticed her. “How’s Gigi this week?”
“She’s great.” Chrissie hung back a bit, the feeling of belonging she’d sensed just a few minutes ago ebbing. Owen had had that effect on her even when they were kids. She wasn’t sure why, but she always had the feeling that he barely tolerated her, and then only because he had to.
She turned to Lis. “Are you free for lunch tomorrow around noon?”
“Sorry. I have an appointment at ten that will probably stretch right on into the afternoon. Thinking about a trip to Blossoms?” Lis asked.
Chrissie nodded. “It’s okay. I can go by myself. I just thought it would be more fun if someone else was along.”
“I’d go with you but I’m meeting my dad at one in Baltimore,” Cass told her. “Another day, though—”
“I’m curious. I’ve heard about it but I’ve never been. I guess I just don’t think to go out River Road,” Chrissie said.
“It’s a darling café with tons of charm and excellent food. Sophie’s really into the whole locavore thing. I think you’ll love it. Make sure you check out the St. Dennis wall.”
“The St. Dennis wall?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.” Lis leaned over and kissed Chrissie on the cheek. “I’m so happy you came with us tonight. I love to see you out and about. As much as we all love Gigi, you need to get a life, girl.”
“I’m working on that, thanks.”
The entire group headed outside, except Jared, who’d been quiet until he’d said his good nights and walked across the lobby.
“Hey, Chrissie, I’m free for lunch tomorrow,” he called to her.
At the sound of her name, she’d paused and turned as the others passed through the double doors just as Jared stepped into the bar area. Judging by the look on the pretty hostess’s face, he’d focused that megawatt smile on her, and whatever Chrissie’d thought to call back to him died in her throat.
• • •
CHRISSIE PULLED INTO the parking lot at Blossoms just before noon. There were already a dozen cars in the lot, and she had to park around the side of the building. She got out of her car and took a long look around. She’d already learned from Ruby that the building had been boarded up and pretty much abandoned when Sophie Enright—she’d been single then—had moved to St. Dennis to work with her brother Jesse in the law firm that had long been a staple in St. Dennis. Their great-great-grandfather had founded the firm in 1890, and there’d been an Enright practicing law in St. Dennis every year since. Though she’d passed the Maryland bar, Sophie’s heart wasn’t in law. Her dream was to own a small restaurant of her own. When this old building out on River Road came up for sale, she’d grabbed it, spent her time and money to renovate it, and molded it into the image she’d carried in her head. She met and fell in love with Jason Bowers, who owned the plant nursery and landscaping operation next door to the restaurant. They married, moved into the apartment on the second floor, and took care of their thriving businesses. Soon, apparently, there’d be something else for them to take care of.
Chrissie stood for a long moment and took it all in. There were woods that led from the back of the restaurant down to the river. Behind the restaurant was a patio with several tables and a tall fence that overflowed with vines that were still a month or two from flowering. Chrissie didn’t know what kind of vine they were, but she was sure they’d flower, and in her mind’s eye she could see colorful blooms spilling over the fence. The scene was so vivid to her she had to blink, but then it was gone. She walked around to the front of the building, where a bouquet of three flowers, tied with blue ribbon, had been painted on the large square window that faced the road.
Inside, the restaurant was alive with happy chatter. She was met by a waitress who apparently served as hostess as well.
“Table for . . . ?” she asked.
“One,” Chrissie told her.
“This way.” The waitress wore a name tag on which the name Dana had been written in red ink over a sketch of the same bouquet appearing on the front window.
Chrissie followed her to a small table with two chairs that sat next to the side window, through which she could see the nursery operation next door.
“I’m Dana. What can I get you to drink?” The waitress handed her a menu.
“Unsweetened iced tea, thanks.” Chrissie tried to remain calm even as she wanted to take it all in at one time. She forced a deep breath, then picked up the menu and studied it. It took her mere minutes to know that Sophie was a woman after her own heart.
If Chrissie were to design her own restaurant and plan her own menu, it would look so very much like this. There were the staples—crab cakes, burgers, quiche, mac and cheese, crab bisque—then a special soup, salad, entrée, and dessert of the day, and everything sounded delicious.
Dana returned to the table with Chrissie’s iced tea and a bowl that she placed in the middle of the table.
“Roasted chickpeas,” she told Chrissie. “It’s one of our signatures.”
“Nice.” Chrissie nodded and popped a few into her mouth. She tasted garlic and sea salt. “Perfect,” she told Dana.
“Everyone says that.” Dana smiled. “Did you see our specials when you came in? On the board near the door?”
“No, I missed that.”
“Our soup today is a creamy fresh green pea with mint, and the salad is watercress with avocado and grapefruit with almonds in a citrus vinaigrette. The quiche of the day is asparagus, spring onions, and goat cheese, and our entrée is a Yukon Gold potato and sausage hash.”
“Hmmm. Tough choice.” Chrissie frowned.
“Oh, and you could have a small watercress side salad with any of the entrées, if you like.”
“I would like, thank you, with the quiche.” Chrissie handed back the menu.
“And I’d like the Jason burger and an order of potato wedges. Oh, and a cup of oyster stew, if you have any left.” Jared slid smoothly into the chair opposite Chrissie, whose jaw had started to drop. He smiled at her. “I told you I was free for lunch today.”
“So in other words, your regular. Hi, Jared,” Dana said. “What would you like to drink with that?”
“Hi, Dana. I’d like a beer, but since I know you don’t serve it, I’ll have a Pepsi.”
“I’ll get your orders in right away.” Dana went off to the kitchen.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. He was still smiling.
“You surprised me.”
“Why? I said I was free today. I thought you heard me.”
“You must eat here often,” Chrissie said, “if you have a regular order.”
“At least once a week. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“The food must be really good then. I can’t wait to try it.”
“You know why Sophie named it Blossoms?” he said.
“No idea.”
“Years ago, there were three girls in St. Dennis who were the best of friends. Rose, Lily, and Violet. Sophie’s grandmother was Rose. Violet was Rose’s best friend and the secretary at the Enright law firm for about a million years. I hear she still goes in part-time just to make sure the ‘new girl’ isn’t messing up her filing system. The ‘new girl’ is in her fifties and has been there for two years now, they tell me.”
“So who was Lily?”
“Lily was . . . I forget the exact relationship, but I do remember that she was related to Ellie O’Connor somehow. Ellie’s married to Cameron O’Connor, the contractor, if you ever need any carpentry work done.”
“Thanks, but I think Alec has that covered.”
“Right. Anyway, it’s a really long story, but Ellie inherited the house, and she says Lily’s still there, if you get my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“You mean her ghost?”
“So I’ve heard. Except Cameron called it her spirit. He plays poker with Owen, and whenever they need an extra guy, they call me. So I heard it straight from the source.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“I’m just telling you what the locals say about the place.” Dana brought his Pepsi and Chrissie’s iced tea along with a glass dish holding several kinds of sweeteners. “Just sharing a little local color with you. Now, me, I keep an open mind. I’ve seen too many things I can’t explain to never say never.”
“So name one thing that you’ve personally seen that you can’t explain.”
“UFOs,” he said without hesitating.
“You saw a UFO.” She rolled her eyes.
“Not UFO. UFOs. Plural.” He picked up a few chickpeas and rolled them around in his hand like dice.
“Come on.”
“Hey, you asked. I answered.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not.”
“Not.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . because there’s no proof. You’d think if they were real, there’d be some sign. Like, how come none of these supposed vehicles from out of space have ever landed somewhere?”
“What makes you think they haven’t?”
“Because we’d know.”
Now he laughed. “You know, you’re quick to scoff, but you haven’t even asked me what I saw with my own eyes.”
“Okay. What did you see? Or what do you think you saw, I guess, is the better question.”
“The first time, I was on board one of our salvage ships off the coast of Yucatán. It was just around midnight, and I was doing my last check around the boat when I saw lights directly overhead. Seven lights. I counted them. They hovered over my ship for about five minutes. Then they took off across the sky and vanished.”
Chrissie stared at him.
“Anyone else witness this?”
“Three of my crew saw them.”
“These lights just sort of hung over your ship.”
“Well, from time to time, one would drop down closer, then go back up again. Then a minute later, another would do the same thing.”
“I don’t suppose you have photos.”
“Of course I do. I sent copies to the Federal Aviation Administration and the Pentagon, but I never received an acknowledgment from either.” He tossed the chickpeas into his mouth. “And that wasn’t the only time.”
“Where else?”
“Once when I was hiking in the Rockies, and another time when I was camping in Maine.”
“You’re just a regular magnet for these things, aren’t you?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Maybe you’re actually an extraterrestrial.”
“Maybe I am.” He smiled.
“You’re a good storyteller, I’ll give you that.”
Dana brought their food, and after she’d served them, asked, “Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m good,” Chrissie told her.
“You could do a little karaoke while we eat,” Jared suggested.
“Oh, you.” Dana laughed. “You’ll never let me live that down.”
“Nope.” To Chrissie, he said, “Dana does a mean ‘Proud Mary.’ ”
“That’s the problem with small towns,” Dana said as she turned away from the table. “You have one night you’d like to forget, but no one will ever let you.”
“Hey, you were entertaining,” Jared told her.
“Glad you thought so. Enjoy your lunch.”
“Where do they have karaoke around here?” Chrissie asked.
“The Blue Claw, out on the highway.” He grinned. “You interested?”
“Oh, dear God, no. That would be the last . . .” She shuddered at the thought of getting up in front of a roomful of strangers and singing. “Nope. You?”
“Well, I guess you’d have to come out to the Claw some night and find out.” He winked, then turned his attention to his lunch.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Chrissie watching as he attacked the oyster stew like a starving man.
“How is it?” she finally asked.
“Amazing. The best. If I don’t have Sophie’s oyster stew once a week, I go into withdrawal.”
“Really?” He had her attention. “What’s in it? What makes it so great?”
Jared shrugged. “I don’t know. Oysters.”
“Well, is it herby? A lot of butter? Chopped celery, carrots, potatoes? What’s in it?”
He reached across the small table for the spoon at her place and scooped some stew onto it, then handed it to her. “Here.”
She tasted the stew. It really was delicious.
“Tarragon.” She licked the spoon. “Very buttery, and the oysters weren’t overcooked. Very nice.”
She looked up to find him staring at her, his eyes narrowed.
“Thanks,” she said.
“So . . . you’re a chef?”
“I wouldn’t call myself a chef, but yes, I’ve been a restaurant cook.”
“How come you’re not now?”
“Well, for one thing, since I came back to the island, I’ve been helping out Gigi in the store.”
“Who helped her before you?”
“To hear her tell it, no one. But I know Owen and Lis both looked in on her and helped her out.”
“So why does she need full-time help now?”
She put her fork down. “She’s one hundred years old, Jared.”
“She looked pretty lively when I saw her at the inn a few weeks ago having lunch with Grace.”
“Gigi aside, I needed to work through some things. Being around the store helped me to put things into perspective.”
“You okay now?”
“So why aren’t you”—he waved his fork around—“cooking in a restaurant?”
“You’re really nosy, you know that?” She dug into her quiche, which was getting cold.
“I have been accused of that many, many times in the past. I’m just a curious guy.” He took a bite of his burger, and when he’d finished chewing, he said, “You know, just because someone asks you a question doesn’t mean you have to answer.”
“I know. It just seems rude not to.”
“Not if the question was rude. Which I guess mine was.” He put down the burger. “I didn’t mean to be.”
“Just curious?”
He nodded.
She turned her attention back to her lunch.
“So what’s in the quiche?” he asked, and she laughed.
“The obvious: goat cheese, green onions, asparagus, chives. As advertised.”
“No hidden ingredients to discover?”
She laughed again. “No. It’s pretty straightforward. Really good, but no surprises.”
“By the way, did you get to see the St. Dennis wall before I came in?”
“Cass mentioned that. What is it?”
He pointed across the room to a wall covered with photos and what appeared to be newspaper articles.
“Old photos of the town and some of the people who live here. Stuff going back seventy-five years from the local newspaper, which maybe you know Grace owns. Birth announcements. Weddings. Obituaries. It’s a real who’s who in St. Dennis. Take a look when you’re finished. It’s like a history lesson on the wall.”
Jared’s phone rang, and he took it from his pocket to look at the number.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I should answer this.”
He got up and walked outside. She watched through the front window as he paced, stopped, paced, stopped. She liked watching him move. He was graceful for a man his size, his movements fluid and smooth as a dancer’s, but masculine at the same time. There was something in his gait that reminded her of Owen’s, and she wondered if somehow divers all moved in a similar fashion. Because of the way they moved underwater, maybe?
He was sliding the phone back into his pocket as he came back in.
“Well, this has been fun, but I gotta scoot.” He picked up the burger and took a last bite.
“Everything okay?”
He nodded. “Peachy. See you around, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t forget the wall.” He turned and flagged down Dana, who met him at the cash register. He paid for his lunch, then walked out without looking back.
She couldn’t help but wonder what the emergency was.
“So, if I could ask—not that it’s any of my business—but are you and Jared . . . ?” Dana began to clear away Jared’s place.
“Oh no. We’re just friends. Really. My cousin works with him,” she felt compelled to add, as if that would explain the casual relationship. “Why, you interested?”
“If you’re not, you’re probably the only woman in town who isn’t.” Dana laughed. “It’s hard not to like him even if he is a huge flirt. Not that you’d want to get involved with him in any serious way. He’s not a serious person. At least, not when it comes to, you know, dating. Women. He’s sort of a playboy, actually.”
“He does look the type.”
“I know, right? Not that I’d ever fall for him, but still, he’s adorable in his own way.” She finished picking up his plate and the soup bowl. “I bet he’s more fun to have as a friend.”
Before Chrissie could respond, Dana had turned away and gone into the kitchen.
She finished her lunch, making notes of the flavors in the salad dressing—honey, orange juice, balsamic—and imagining what changes she might make, should she have the chance. Skip the balsamic and use apple cider vinegar? Toast the almonds before adding them to the salad? And the quiche—maybe use a mild jack cheese instead of goat?
Dana returned and asked if she’d like dessert, and Chrissie hesitated.
“We have bourbon brownies with roasted pecan ice cream today.”
Chrissie groaned. “I want to, but I can’t. There just isn’t an inch of space left.”
“I understand. We have the combo on the menu maybe once every other week since it’s a favorite of our customers, so maybe next time.” She glanced out the window. “Actually, we always have it when Dallas MacGregor is having a meeting at her place down the road. You know those old warehouses? You can always tell when all the staff is there because you’ll see more than half a dozen cars. So if the lot is full, chances are there’s bourbon brownies and roasted pecan ice cream.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Dana handed her the check, and Chrissie rose, but instead of going to the cash register, she went to the wall Jared had previously pointed out to her. The tables closest were unoccupied, so she could take her time looking at the photos. Except for a photo of Ruby standing in front of the store that might have been taken within the past ten or fifteen years, she had no idea who the others were, but Jared’d been right. It looked like a history of the town in photos.
“See anyone you know?”
Chrissie turned to find Sophie standing behind her.
“No. I was just thinking that other than my great-grandmother Ruby Carter, I don’t recognize anyone in any of these pictures.”
“I’m sure you know this family.” Sophie pointed to a photo where a tall man stood behind a much shorter woman and three young children, two boys and a towheaded girl. “I’ll give you a hint. She’s still really blond.”
“Is that Lucy?” Chrissie guessed.
Sophie nodded and pointed out the others. “Grace and her late husband, Daniel, then Dan, Lucy, and Ford.”
She went on to point out several other photos, ending with one of her own family. “My grandmother Rose Enright and my grandfather Curtis on their wedding day.”
“Jared told me she was one of the women you named the restaurant for. She was beautiful.”
Sophie nodded. “I never got to meet her when she was alive. Though I’ve been in her presence from time to time.” She smiled. “Everyone in town knows she never left the old mansion, even after my grandad gave it to the town for the arts center.
“My grandmother was very fond of gardenias. Grew them in the greenhouse there, and it was the only scent she ever wore. She’s been gone for more than twenty years now, but sometimes you can still smell gardenias in the house.”
“Because they’re still in the greenhouse?”
“No. Because she comes back to be with my grandfather. Ah, I can see you’re a skeptic. I was, too, for a while, but I’ve experienced it myself so many times it hardly makes me blink anymore. The first time, I was freaked out. I was visiting my grandfather, and all of a sudden there was this really heavy fragrance. I went into every room in the house looking for a gardenia, or a plant, or even a diffuser, but there was nothing. When I came back into the room, my grandfather was in the rocking chair and he looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘She said you’re lovely and she’s proud of you.’ ”
“I’d have freaked out, too.”
“Yeah, it was a moment.”
Sophie lowered herself into the nearest chair. “Thank God it’s a slow day. I’m exhausted and it isn’t even one thirty yet.”
“I noticed on the menu it says you close at two.”
“These days I’m hard-pressed to make it till two. Then it’s close up, clean up, prepare for tomorrow. And the worst part?” Sophie beckoned Chrissie closer. “I’m still having morning sickness. Try whipping up a big fat batch of eggs when you feel like . . . you know. My cook’s only here for the lunch shift, but she’s not going to be here much longer.”
“You need someone to take over for you.”
“It’ll take me months to find someone good enough.”
Chrissie took a deep breath. “I could probably help you with that.”
“You know someone?”
“I’ve worked in restaurants for years. My last position was with a trendy café in northern New Jersey.”
Sophie looked stunned. “Why didn’t I know this?”
“It never came up in conversation. Not that we’ve had that many conversations since I got to town. But I’m good, and I think I’d be a really good fit for Blossoms.”
Sophie looked away and seemed to stare into space for a long time. Finally, she looked up at Chrissie and said, “Come in around seven tomorrow morning and work with me. Let’s see what you can do.” Sophie pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the kitchen. “I hope it works out. For both of us.”
“All right. Tomorrow, then.”
Sophie disappeared through the kitchen door, her voice trailing after her. “See you at seven . . .”