Chapter Seven
What, Cass asked herself, was she going to do about Owen Parker?
Owen Parker, who might just be the biggest player on the planet. The same Owen who’d helped her to clean up an abandoned graveyard, taught her how to use power tools, took her crabbing, and who turned out to be a fabulous cook. Oh, and shared his wonderful family with her. Owen Parker, who might hold the title Hottest Guy I Ever Met.
Owen Parker, who had kissed her blind until she barely remembered where the ignition was in her car and where she was supposed to be going.
She hadn’t planned on that happening. The dinner, yes. Enjoying his family, yes. Kissing him in the moonlight? Not on her list of things to do.
She’d accepted the dinner invitation hoping to learn a little more about the situation with the dock so she could fill her father in. She hadn’t been happy to hear what Owen had to say, but at least he’d been honest and had offered to help her solve the problem. She suspected the possibility was real that there’d be no place on the island where they could inexpensively build another dock, but as Owen had quoted Ruby, “You got a problem, you find a solution. You don’t be wasting time worrying about it.”
Cass was going to try to live up to that advice. She’d look for a solution before she wasted any more time worrying about it. She just hoped she could talk her father into doing the same.
Everything about the evening had been perfect. The food was delicious. The setting magical—Ruby’s garden was full of life and color and fragrance, and a few leftover fireflies made an appearance. Fairy lights, Lis had called them. The company couldn’t have been improved upon. The first time they’d met, Cass had recognized she was in the presence of someone very special in Ruby. Alec had been Cass’s ally in getting her father to appreciate the potential of Cannonball Island as she envisioned it, and Alec had become a true friend. She’d been honored when he asked her to work with him to renovate the cottage that meant so much to Lis. Cass had been more than happy to be part of making that special dream come true for Alec to give his beloved.
They’d had such a fun time, she’d hated to see the evening end. Even cleanup had been fun. Ruby had retreated to her sitting room with a book she’d been reading.
“I’m almost to the end,” she’d told them before she’d shuffled off to her living quarters. “I be certain who the slasher is, but I need to finish the book to know for sure.”
Slasher? Cass had mouthed the word to Owen.
He’d laughed out loud. “Ruby loves dark thrillers. The darker, the bloodier, the better.”
“I never would have guessed.” Cass walked into the kitchen shaking her head.
“How ’bout that one she read a few weeks ago?” Lis had placed the empty salad bowl on the counter. “About some guy who wrapped his pretty victims in cellophane and watched them suffocate.”
“No way.” Cass’s eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline.
“Way,” Lis assured her.
“Wow. I’d have figured her more for a good cozy mystery.” Cass started to rinse dishes in the sink. Owen tried to back her away to take her place but she shooed him off. “I’ll rinse. You load the dishwasher.”
“Fair enough.”
“She does read a few cozies from time to time, but give her a good serial killer and she’s all in,” Lis had said.
Owen turned on his iPhone and searched for his music downloads.
“Is there music to clean up by?” Cass had asked.
He responded by placing the phone on the counter and turning up the volume. “That do it for you?” Owen began to rap along to the lyrics to “My Shot” from Hamilton.
Cass had tried to keep a straight face, but by the time he’d finished, she’d lost it. “No way did I see that coming.”
“Me either. When he was younger, he wanted to do the whole boy-band thing,” Lis said when she finished laughing. “He doesn’t rap any better than he sings.”
“Maybe you could rap the toast at the wedding next week,” Alec suggested.
“You mock me because you’re jealous of my mad skills.”
“I mock you because that was so out of character,” Alec said. “And not very good, frankly.”
“A man has to be multifaceted,” Owen said with a straight face.
“Just make sure you practice that toast a few times before the wedding.” Lis dried off the bowl she wanted to take home.
“I’ll be ready with a knockout toast,” Owen assured her. “You’ll be in tears by the time I’m finished.”
“Great. Something to look forward to. Note to self: waterproof mascara.” Lis kissed him on the cheek, then hugged Cass. “Are you sure you don’t want help with those dishes?”
“We’re good,” Owen told her.
“I’ll give your dad a call about the dock, Cass,” Alec said.
“Thanks, but I think that’s a conversation I’ll need to have.”
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Alec said as he and Lis left.
“I don’t think I will, but nice of you to offer.”
“Do you want to wait to call your dad until after we’ve had a chance to look around for a possible alternate site?” Owen asked after Lis and Alec were gone.
“I think I should call in the morning, before anyone else contacts him.” Cass handed Owen the last plate. “But you will think about where else we could build, right?”
“I promise.”
Cass looked at the clock that hung over the doorway. “It’s later than I thought. I should be going. I have a date with the Allens in the morning.”
“Who?”
“The Allens. They’re buried in the front yard of the house next to the chapel.”
“The new chapel, the old chapel, or the old old chapel?”
“They all look old to me. I can’t tell the difference.”
“We’ll have to include that in your island tutorial.”
Cass picked up her bag, and Owen followed her to the back door, his arm resting casually over her shoulder. They walked outside and stood on the top porch step.
“Look up,” Owen said.
The night sky was ink black, the ambient light on the island being almost nonexistent. The stars twinkled and several constellations were in full view.
Owen stood as if mesmerized. “Do you know why they call Polaris the North Star?”
“Because it always points north?”
“Pretty much. The earth’s axis is pointed almost exactly at that star. It stays in pretty much the same place all year round, while other stars move around the sky. Early explorers used it to navigate.”
“So I guess it works as good as a compass.”
“It’s better than a compass. A compass can only show you the direction of the strongest magnetic force for a certain time and a specific place. The North Star is pretty constant.”
“Well, I know it’s in the handle of the Big Dipper.”
“You mean the Little Dipper.” He pointed overhead. “The Big Dipper is there. See the handle? It’s in the opposite direction from the handle of the Little Dipper. The handles always appear to be in opposing directions.”
“Did you ever navigate using just the North Star?”
“Sure. When I was a kid, that’s all we ever used, my grampa and me. He thought compasses were a crutch.” Owen laughed. “He thought anything that didn’t rely on the use of your own senses was a crutch. The man never went past eighth grade, but he knew more about stuff than anyone I ever knew.”
“Was this your mom’s father?”
Owen shook his head. “My dad’s father.”
“You never talk about your parents.”
Owen shrugged. “Not much to say. My mom’s on her third husband and my father’s dead.”
“Oooh, harsh.”
“My father wasn’t a particularly nice guy. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t nice at all. He carried a grudge over something that happened back in 1814 and he never let us forget it.”
“Eighteen fourteen. That’s when . . .”
“Yeah. When the residents of St. Dennis who were loyal to the British were driven out of town and onto this island. They had to leave behind their homes and anything they couldn’t carry with them. My dad’s family owned property in St. Dennis that was taken from them and he never got over it. The house is still standing, and it was a source of irritation to him throughout his life. He let that loss—which wasn’t even his loss—define his life. He tried to make it define Lis’s and mine, too.”
“In what way?”
“Anything to do with St. Dennis was forbidden. Which was tough on Lis and me because we had to go to school there. But we weren’t to make friends with any of the kids, and we could only hang out with fellow islanders.”
“How’d that work out?”
Owen snorted. “How do you think? I never paid any attention to his ranting and raving, and after a time, I was bigger than him, so he didn’t force the issue with me. It was tougher on Lis, though, because she couldn’t bring herself to defy him the way I did. It just wasn’t in her nature back then.”
“She seems pretty tough now.”
“She earned her toughness. She went away to school and she stayed away for a long time. She just came back at the beginning of the summer.”
“And that fast, she and Alec met and fell in love?”
“Alec has always had a thing for her. Always. And apparently, she’d noticed him a lot more than she let on.” Owen took her hand as he stepped off the porch, and she followed. “Some people are just meant to be together, you know?”
It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask him who his “meant to be” was, but she thought better of it. She didn’t really want to know. Instead, she said, “Well, then, I’m glad they found each other.”
Reaching her car, she put a hand out to open the driver’s-side door. But somehow she’d gotten turned around, and before she knew it, she was in Owen’s arms and his lips were in search of hers. She lifted her head, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. The crackle of electricity that had marked their earlier kiss became a thunderbolt, but rather than pull away, she moved toward the source of the heat.
She’d never realized how much emotion could be packed into one kiss. When she pulled away, she was almost breathless but did her best to hide it. The last thing she wanted was for Owen to know what effect he had on her.
“So I’ve decided you need to learn a little more about the Eastern Shore,” he said as she tried to clear her head.
“What?”
“I think it’s almost criminal for someone who lived in Maryland for so long to have so little understanding of the place the Eastern Shore held in the nation’s history. You expect to live here, you have to know what here is all about. I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty tomorrow.”
“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about a guided tour.” He smiled and opened the car door for her and held it open as she slid behind the wheel.
“I’m going to be working in the Allen graveyard tomorrow. I told you that.”
“So start your day a little earlier. Wear sneakers and bring a sweater.”
He closed the door without waiting for her response, and Cass had driven home in a fog. It had taken forever for her to fall asleep because she’d relived a hundred times the way his lips had felt on hers, and she’d told herself a hundred times she should back away while she still could. She awoke the next morning with the memory of that kiss still fresh in her mind. She told it to get lost as she rose early and set off for an overgrown graveyard on Cannonball Island.
THE ALLEN PLOT was relatively small compared to the others she’d worked on, so after her early start, by nine thirty she was finished and had the entire rest of the day ahead of her. She had plenty of time to shower off the grass and the dirt. She dressed in navy crop pants and a long-sleeved white T and was right on time to meet Owen in the lobby.
“You look great,” he said when he arrived at the inn just when the clock in the lobby chimed at twelve thirty. He took her hand as they walked through the double doors. “You smell good, too.” He leaned toward her and sniffed. “Nice. Familiar, but I can’t place it.”
Cass laughed. “It’s coconut-scented shampoo.”
“That explains my sudden urge for macaroons.”
They arrived at the car and Owen opened the passenger’s door. He held it while Cass climbed in. “How are the Allens doing?”
“A lot better now that their final resting places have been cleaned up. How was your dive this morning?”
“It was great.” His eyes lit up. “Jared and a few of his guys had mapped out the wreck site on a grid, so we each took a section. I found a large piece of heavy chain. Ruby said she’d heard the ship had carried slaves and indentured men, so I guess she was right.”
“Did you ask Jared about bringing his boat around to the bay side to check the water depths?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.” He grimaced. “That was bad. I should have remembered. We all were so excited about the dive. But no excuse. I’ll ask him tomorrow. I promise.”
Damn. Cass had held off calling her father because she thought she might have other news for him. She was annoyed that Owen had forgotten, but as long as he followed through tomorrow, it would be okay. Of course, he’d promised yesterday, too. . . .
“So on to the history lesson. Where to today, Professor Parker?”
“I thought we’d start at the beginning.” He turned on the car and circled around the parking lot to the driveway. “Well, not the very beginning. For that, we’d go back millions of years, and who has the time for that? Besides, I think James Michener covered all that when he wrote Chesapeake. From my schoolboy days, I remember that there was a sort of comet that hit the region, then later there was some glacier activity, and that takes us to the 1600s. John Smith. The local Native American population.”
“That’s quite a leap, millions of years ago to John Smith and Jamestown.”
“Yeah, well, if there were written records left at the time of the glaciers, we’d have something to talk about. For me, and then there were glaciers is sufficient to cover that time period.”
“Fair enough.” Cass rolled down the window and leaned toward it slightly. The air was cooler and crisper than it had been earlier in the week, and just beneath the light breeze she caught a scent of impending autumn. It made her think of walks in the woods with leaves crunching underfoot, cozy sweaters, pumpkins and apple cider, apple pie and pumpkin pie.
“Hey, are you listening?” she heard him say.
“Sorry, I got caught up in a thought,” she admitted sheepishly.
“What thought was that?”
“Mostly baked stuff with apples. Like apple pie. Apple crisp. And pumpkin pie. Pumpkin-spice coffee. Actually, pumpkin-spice anything.”
“You’re psychic, right? Because I make a killer pumpkin pie. Only thing better might be my apple pie.”
“Tell me the recipes are in that folder of family recipes.”
“Could be. Maybe I’ll let you look at my folder someday.”
“I’d be honored.”
“You should be. It’s been carefully guarded through the ages.” He made a turn onto the highway and headed north. “Now, back to today’s lesson. There were a number of Indian tribes living in the bay area. There are something like a hundred thousand Native American archaeological sites throughout the bay region, a lot of them not even documented yet.”
“So are any of those campsites on Cannonball Island?”
“Sure. That would be the area that runs along the river out to the point. Back in early times, the whole area was mostly woodlands. You can still see the signs if you know what to look for.”
“And I suppose you know what to look for?”
“Of course. Island boy, born and raised.”
“So are we going to see a Native American site today?”
“Not today, but the history is all around you. A lot of the names on the Eastern Shore are Native American. Like the rivers. Choptank. Nanticoke. Wicomico.”
“Do you know what any of that means?”
“I know that Nanticoke means ‘people of the tidewater.’ That’s about all I remember. My granddad knew a lot of the names and what they meant. He collected a lot of pottery shards and things he’d find along the shore and dug up in his garden.”
“Isn’t it illegal to keep those sorts of things?”
“I guess it is now, but back sixty, seventy years ago . . .” Owen shrugged. “I haven’t seen any of it in a long time, so I’m guessing Ruby might have given it all to the library in St. Dennis when they opened their little museum wing. I remember hearing some talk about it.”
“So where are we going?” They were on the highway, headed northeast. “What’s this tour we’re going on?”
“I thought since you’re so interested in Cannonball Island and St. Dennis, it would be logical to start with an 1812 tour, since the war played so significant a role in the history of both, but then I thought, nah, it’s too extensive. You can’t do that all in one day.” He looked across the console. “That story began in Baltimore, but since you’re from there, you’re familiar with the whole Fort McHenry, ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ thing. And I’m guessing you already know about how St. Dennis was shelled by British warships a couple of times around 1814, but how no house was ever hit, right?”
“No, I don’t know that story.”
“Here’s how it went. The British would sail up and down the bay at night, and they’d aim their cannons on the lights in the windows of the houses onshore. So the people in St. Dennis took to hanging lanterns in the trees and kept their homes dark when ships were sighted approaching the town.”
“So the cannons were aimed at the trees instead of the houses? Clever.”
“Only one house was ever hit, and the cannonball is still in the wall. Of course, a lot of trees went down, but it was a small price to pay. I’m surprised Grace hasn’t told you about it. It’s one of her favorite stories.”
“It’s a good one. So, since we’re not going to Baltimore, and we just left St. Dennis, where are we going?”
“We’re going to Chestertown, a very old and very beautiful town on the Chester River. Colonial times, the Revolution, the War of 1812, the Civil War—Chestertown’s seen it all.”
“What are we going to see there?”
“A little bit of everything, and then a surprise.”
“What kind of surprise?” Her eyes narrowed.
“One you’ll probably remember for a long, long time.” His smile and his eyes held mischief.
“Should I be scared?”
“Not if you brought your sea legs with you.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You’ll love it.”
That smile again, those eyes.
He glanced down at the tennis shoes on her feet. “I see you remembered I told you to bring a sweater and to wear sneaks. Smart move.”
More than smart, it turned out, because Owen had planned a walking tour of the old city. He’d downloaded and printed out an annotated map from the Internet and handed it to her before they got out of the car.
“You being an architect and a history buff, I thought you’d find this interesting.” He turned off the engine. “It’s a sort of self-guided architectural tour.”
Cass glanced at the map. “This is perfect. And very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Sure.” He got out and closed his door, then walked around to her side of the car. “Unless you’re chilly, you might not need the sweater now. We can stop back for it later before . . .”
“Before what?”
“Before we embark on the second part of our adventure. Now, where would you like to start?”
“The map has places numbered, so let’s just follow that. We can start down near the river.”
“Good thought.” He glanced at his watch. “We have time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to see a few places, walk a few blocks.”
“And then what?”
“Then the surprise.”
“I’m not sure I like surprises.” What does he have up his sleeve?
“I bet you’ll like this one.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. Let’s get on with the architectural tour.”
They walked a block before Cass stopped in front of a handsome large brick structure.
“This is number one on the map. It’s the old customhouse.” She glanced at the map again. “It says here this is one of the oldest such structures still standing in any of the thirteen colonies. Original section built in 1740. It’s been privately owned since the latter part of the eighteenth century. Oh, and it says here that Chestertown had its own tea party not far from here.” She glanced toward the river. “I guess there might be a marker down there somewhere.” She looked up at Owen. “Are you sure you’re interested in all this?”
“Oh, sure.” He nodded vigorously. “Why else would I have planned this?”
“Just checking. I’d hate for you to be bored.” She looked at the map again.
“Me, bored? Heck no.”
“Let’s move on to number two, then.” She tugged on his hand and read as they walked. “Italianate in style, built in 1857 by a man named James Taylor.”
“Wasn’t he a songwriter, singer, back in the sixties, seventies? ‘You’ve Got a Friend’?”
“Ha ha.” She smacked him with the map. “The house is on the next block.”
When they arrived, Cass studied the front of the building. “Beautiful, and perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Check out the brackets on the porches and the eaves. Perfect.”
She took a photo with her phone.
“On to number three. That would be . . .” She consulted the map. “The Hynson-Ringgold House. Built in 1743. So different in style from the last one. See the difference in the roofline, and the portico is Greek Revival. Now owned by Washington College.” She studied the house from different angles, aware Owen was watching her, though he hadn’t bothered to follow when she walked from one side of the house to the other, stopping to take photos now and then.
She rejoined him on the sidewalk at the corner, where he waited patiently. “A US senator lived here once.”
“It’s a nice house. I bet he enjoyed it.”
“More than you’re enjoying this little expedition, I bet.”
“No, no. I’m good. History guy here, remember?”
She slipped her hand into his. “The next place on the tour is on the corner, one block down.”
“Great. Let’s go take a look.” He sounded perky enough, but Cass sensed that his heart wasn’t in it. That his eyes were glazing over gave him away.
What did it say about this guy who spent a beautiful, crisp September day looking at buildings he had absolutely no interest in, simply because he knew she’d love it?
“Now this place is pure Georgian,” she said when they arrived at the fourth house on the tour. “And a beautiful example of the style. Built a little before the Revolution.”
And so on through numbers five through eleven. As she started toward number twelve, Cass noted Owen once again looking at his watch.
“Are you supposed to be back soon?”
“No, why?” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
“You keep looking at your watch.”
“Well, there is something else. I guess we should be headed in that direction pretty soon.”
“The big surprise . . . ?”
He nodded. “We should stop at the car so you can pick up your sweater.”
“Okay.” Curious, she followed him back to the car.
“I would definitely come back to this place,” she told him as he handed her the sweater. “I love how so much of the town has been preserved. I could stay here all day.”
“Some other time.” He grabbed her hand and headed toward the water.
Minutes later they were standing on a crowded dock, at the foot of which was tied what looked like an old-time schooner, all its sails rolled up.
“What . . . ?” Cass’s eyes widened.
“Cass, meet Contessa.” He guided her by the elbow to the end of the dock.
“What . . . ?”
“She’s a replica of a 1768 British schooner. Beautiful, isn’t she?” Owen’s eyes were shining excitedly as he gazed upon the ship.
I must have looked like that, Cass thought, taking in those fabulous historic houses on our walking tour.
“Can you believe that volunteers built this baby? The original was a merchant ship that the British used to patrol the coastlines after the tea tax was enacted. So from around 1768 till the early 1770s, she sailed up and down the coast from Boston to the Chesapeake looking for smugglers. After they retired her, she was taken back to England and later sold to a private owner. When it was decided that a sailing ship would be a great educational tool, she was chosen as the prototype.”
“She’s . . . quite something.” Cass stared at the ship as some others on the dock moved forward to board her. “Why did they need a ship?”
“The Contessa Education Foundation sponsors trips for schoolkids, sails them around the bay so they can see its vastness, maybe appreciate it a little more, acquaints them with the history and the ecology of the Chesapeake. Its uniqueness, its culture.” Owen had taken her elbow and steered her toward the ship. “They also offer paid cruises to raise money for the foundation.”
Wait—did he expect her to go on board?
Apparently he did. He led her across a metal-mesh bridge and stepped onto the deck and held out a hand to Cass.
“No, no, I don’t think . . .” The words stuck in her throat.
“Come on. She’s beautiful. And she doesn’t bite, I promise.”
“But I don’t like . . .” Panic arose as she found herself standing on the deck.
“You don’t like boats?” he leaned over to ask.
“Water,” she whispered sheepishly. “I don’t like to be on the water.”
“Seriously?” He took her arm and led her to one side of the deck, away from where the others were boarding. “Are you afraid or what?”
“I just feel uneasy. Like it’s not natural. I think we were meant to keep both feet on dry land.”
Before he could reply, someone—apparently the man in charge—began talking about booms and gaffs. The next thing she knew, some of the passengers were working alongside the crew amid cries of “Heave ho” and “Drop the line” and “Haul away” as a huge sail rose above the deck.
“Oh, crap, get me off this thing.” Wild-eyed, she grabbed the front of Owen’s shirt with both hands.
“Um, it’s a little late. We’re moving.”
Cass closed her eyes, rested her head against his chest, and hung on to him with all her strength. “Tell me when it’s over.”
“Cass, it’s a two-hour tour. If I’d known you had a fear of water, I’d never have bought the tickets. I swear, I had no idea you’d be afraid.” He sounded almost as distressed as she felt.
“Well, now you do.”
“You seemed fine when we were crabbing the other day. You never said anything.”
“We were sitting firmly on a dock, not standing on the deck of a moving ship.”
“What is it that you’re afraid of?”
“Things that are out there that you can’t see.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Things underneath the boat.”
“But if they’re under the boat, they stay under the boat.”
“What if we got into an accident with another boat? Or hit rocks?”
“Look around. Do you see any other boats in proximity to us? And I promise there are no rocks in the Chesapeake big enough to rip a hole in this baby.”
“So you say.”
“Cass, what do you do when you go swimming?”
“I don’t remember reports of sharks in any pool I’ve ever been in.”
“You’ve never been in the ocean?”
She shook her head no.
“The bay?”
“The nearest I’ve come to the bay was the other day at the pier.”
“Just pretend you’re back there, sitting on the pier at the point, okay?” He held her to him, one hand gently stroking her back as if to calm her. “Look, you just hold on to me, keep your face buried if that makes you feel better.”
“I guess there’s no point in asking if they’d turn around and let me off?”
“Not a chance. We’re in the middle of the Chester River heading out toward the bay.”
“Oh, crap, don’t tell me.” She buried deeper.
“Hey, you weren’t even aware we’d sailed out here, so it must be a pretty calm ride, right? Why not just take a look, Cass? The scenery is beautiful.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m sorry. I know you planned this surprise for me because you thought I’d enjoy it, and here I am acting like a frightened five-year-old.” Tears welled up and she was at a loss to control them. They tumbled down her cheeks and onto her shirt.
“Everyone’s afraid of something.” He tried to soothe her.
“I’ll bet there’s nothing you’re afraid of.”
“That’s a bet you’d lose.” He changed the subject. “We have to move to the other side of the boat. The wind is changing and they need to move the sails.”
One of the crew asked Owen if he’d like to help man the sails. He hesitated momentarily. “Not this time around, but thanks.”
“Go ahead,” Cass told him. “I’ll be okay.”
“I’ve done it before. Let someone else have a chance to see what it’s like.”
“They let anyone, passengers, strangers, sail the ship?”
“Under very close supervision and with instruction. It’s not that hard. Really.” He patted her on the back. “You’re not going to die, Cass.”
“People die from fright. I’ve read about it.”
“This is a side of you I’ve never seen. You’re always so together, so in charge.”
“True, on dry land.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How have you managed to live all these years on the Chesapeake without getting on a boat?”
“I haven’t been living here for all that long. I lived in Rhode Island for a while.”
“What did you do there?” He leaned against the side rail of the boat and took her with him. She knew he was just trying to keep her talking to take her mind off her being on a vessel that was sailing—sailing! Not even engine powered!—toward the open Chesapeake at a fancy clip.
“I moved there after college. I was in grad school and my husband—” She felt Owen freeze.
“What husband?” he asked softly.
“The one I divorced not long ago. He was in ROTC in college, so he owed the government four years of active service. He joined the army, liked it a whole lot more than he liked living with me, so we got divorced.”
“I’ll bet there’s more to it than that.”
“That was the short version. It’s a story for another time.”
The man who appeared to be the head crewman tapped her on the arm. “Miss, would you like to take the rudder?”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
He smiled. “It steers the ship.”
“You let total amateurs drive this thing?” She let go of Owen’s shirt and turned, staring at the man with horror in her eyes.
“You won’t actually be steering. You’d just be holding on to the wheel to keep the ship steady. We’re pretty much on a slow and even course. There won’t be any turns made until we circle around to return back to Chestertown.”
“Go ahead, Cass,” Owen urged as he tried to straighten out the front of his shirt, which she’d bunched and twisted into a wrinkled mess. “Might be good for you. Keep your mind off . . . you know. The whole boat thing. Besides, you know you like to feel you’re in control.”
“How would you know that?” How does he know?
“That’s a story for another time, too.” He smiled as he tossed her words back to her.
“Come on, miss. It’s right over here. . . .”
“Don’t leave me,” Cass whispered to Owen as the man gently took her hand.
When they reached the wheel, the crewman said to the man who was holding it that his replacement was here. Then the crewman showed Cass where to place her hands.
“What if it does something wonky? You know, like if the wind took it that way?” She pointed off to the left.
“Unlikely, but I’ll be right here if that happens.” The crewman patted her shoulder gently in encouragement. “You’re doing fine.”
Cass was aware that Owen mouthed, Thank you, as the crewman stepped away, but she chose not to mention it. She still didn’t like it, didn’t like being out here on the water where she felt so vulnerable, but Owen had been such a good sport about the walking tour, she felt obligated to force herself to stare straight ahead.
The bay was smooth, the waves small, and she was getting used to the feel of the deck beneath her feet. It was breezier and cooler here than it had been at the crowded area at the far back of the ship, and without her asking him to, Owen placed her sweater around her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” A moment later he asked, “How are you doing?”
Cass took a deep breath. “Not so bad. It’s actually pretty smooth, isn’t it?”
He nodded and pointed out landmarks along the way. “There’s Ballard. Great little town with a terrific dock bar. We’ll go some night when they have music, and we’ll sit out on the dock and listen and watch the boats pull up.”
“Sounds like a fun place.” She felt her shoulders relax. “This really isn’t so bad.”
“Good. You’re doing great, Cass. I’m proud of you.”
She could have cried again. He was being such a sweetheart, understanding and nonjudgmental. He was making it hard for her to remember that he wasn’t the guy for her.
Gulls swooped overhead as they sailed along, and the sunlight danced across the waves. It was peaceful here; Owen had been right. She liked the way the wind blew through her hair and over her skin. She was beginning to understand how some found the sea appealing. It wasn’t for her, but she could see how it might be for others.
When she was replaced at the wheel and she and Owen returned to the very back of the ship, she had relaxed sufficiently to gaze at the shoreline and off into the distance, but the underlying anxiety was still there, only not as fierce as it had been. As the ship turned in a slow, wide arc and headed back to the river, she took a deep breath. Maybe she’d survive this short voyage after all.
“Are you okay?” Owen had kept an arm around her shoulders the entire time.
“A lot better, especially now that we’re heading upriver and toward the dock.”
“We’ll be pulling up to the dock before you know it.”
She could have said, I will be aware of every passing minute, but she refrained. When the dock came in sight, she wanted to whoop, but she refrained from that, too.
“You did really, really well for your first time out on a boat,” Owen said once they’d departed the ship and were walking back to the car. “Next time, I’ll take you out myself. Alec has a—”
“I don’t think so, but thanks. I think I’ve been there, done that, and don’t need to go back.”
He fell silent as they reached the car. He unlocked it and opened the passenger-side door for her. She smiled her thanks, and while it looked as if he was about to say something, he merely smiled back and closed her door. On the drive back to St. Dennis, he slipped a CD into the player, and they talked about their favorite music and concerts they’d been to.
“So, John Lennon or John Mellencamp?”
“Lennon,” she replied without hesitation.
“Lennon or McCartney?”
“Oooh, tough one.” She frowned. “I have to go with McCartney.”
“Beatles or Stones?”
“Another tough one. The Stones are still at it, though, so maybe them. They’ve outlasted pretty much everyone.”
“Stevie Nicks or Madonna?”
“I can’t believe you’d even ask that.” She rolled her eyes. “Stevie, of course.”
He nodded his agreement. “Mark Knopfler or Eddie Van Halen?”
“That’s a trick question. Two totally different guitar styles. I pass,” she fired back.
“Fair enough. Now, this might be the toughest of all. The king of rock and roll: Elvis or Chuck Berry?”
“Wow.” She thought it over. “My mom is a fan of early rock and she’s a big Berry fan, so I’m going with him.”
“I agree. Grace Slick or Janis Joplin?”
She looked at him blankly. “I don’t know who Grace Slick is.”
“End of game. You lose.”
“How can I lose if no one else was playing?”
“I’m sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing,” he said solemnly.
Cass laughed.
He drove less than a mile, listening to the radio and tapping out the beat of a song on the steering wheel. Finally, he said, “So tell me about your husband. Where’s he now?”
“Ex-husband, and he’s probably in the Middle East somewhere. I lost track of him before the divorce was final.” Cass pretended to be staring out the window when she was actually trying to avoid eye contact. The end of her marriage had come with painful realizations, and she didn’t like to look back on that time.
This whole day had been a mash-up of good day/bad day.
“So what was it that did you in? Him being away from home a lot?”
She sighed. Apparently she’d have to talk about this at some point, so she might as well get it over with.
“He liked—no, loved being in the army. He would come home on leave and wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t wait to get back to his unit. I wasn’t prepared for that.” She turned and looked at Owen. “He was my college sweetheart. We had our whole lives mapped out. He’d do four years while I got my architecture degree, then we’d set up house somewhere and have a bunch of kids. It became apparent after a few years that that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t a bad guy. Even he wasn’t prepared for how much he loved military life. I was miserable and resentful, and he was feeling guilty and trapped. One of us had to be the grown-up and pull the plug. That was me. He never would have done it, no matter how unhappy he was, because he knew he’d let me down. But as long as I stayed, he could convince himself that, deep down, I was okay with it.”
“Was he shocked? When you told him you wanted a divorce?”
“Shocked?” Cass smiled ruefully. “Relieved. Grateful. Happy as a pig in . . . well, you get the idea.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds as if you started out with the right idea, but it went off the rails somehow.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She watched the scenery on Route 50 fly by. “How ’bout you? Any wives—ex or otherwise—in your background?”
“One ex.”
“You were married?”
“One time, yes.”
Cass tried to hide her surprise. She would have bet just about anything that he’d never been married. The question had been one of those toss-out things, something you say in conversation, sort of like asking if the other person ever broke their leg after you’ve talked about the time you broke yours. She hadn’t been prepared to hear him say he’d been married.
“Who was she?”
“Someone I went to school with from first grade. We’d always been friends, but we started dating in high school, on and off, then later, for years, on and off. I don’t remember how many times. Looking back now, I think it was always a matter of me coming home after one of my jaunts and she’d break off with whoever she was dating, and we’d date for as long as I was here if I wasn’t seeing someone else. Then one day she gave me an ultimatum. She was tired of me bouncing back to her, then leaving for one adventure or another—sometimes that adventure may have involved another woman—then bouncing back, leaving again. You get the picture.”
“Marry me or lose my number?”
“How’d you know?”
“Not hard to figure out that one.”
“So, yeah, we got married. Bad idea right from the start, and we both knew it. I still don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was tired, or maybe she caught me in an off moment, or maybe I wanted to see what it would be like to stay in one place all the time. Maybe I’d come to depend on her as a constant in my life, because in spite of everything, we really did like each other. I don’t know. Needless to say, it didn’t last very long. Well, the marriage lasted a few years, but only because I was in Alaska and they couldn’t serve me with the divorce papers. I wasn’t dodging her, I just moved around a lot, which I was in the habit of doing. When I finally came back, we decided to try again, but that lasted about two weeks before we both agreed it had been a dumb idea from the very beginning.”
“Did you love her?”
Owen hesitated for a moment. “Not the way I should have. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone to Alaska in the first place.”
“Why did you?”
“Adventure. Something and someplace new. The thrill of the unknown. Take your pick.”
“So how long has it been final?”
“It’ll be two years in November.”
“Does she still live in St. Dennis?”
“No, and as far as I know, her parents moved a few towns over.”
“You never contacted her?”
“No. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Just to see how she is . . . how her life is going.”
“Well, in keeping with the nautical theme of the day, let’s just say that ship has sailed. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to revisit that time. It’s done. Move on.”
“Turn the page,” Cass murmured.
“Exactly.” He nodded. “You want to see your ex again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shot him a dark look. “I don’t want to see him because I don’t want to remember how bad he made me feel.”
“That’s pretty much what I said. Just different words.” Owen reached over and took her hand. “How did we get onto this topic that has clearly bummed out both of us?”
“I don’t remember, but it is a downer.”
“I know the perfect cure for chasing away bad thoughts.”
“No, please. Not another boat ride.”
“That was a ship, not a boat, but no.”
“Is this going to be another one of your surprises? Because if it is . . .”
He laughed and the mood in the car lifted. “You’ll love this one. I promise.”
“That’s what you said about the Contessa.”
“Trust me. This will be good.”
It wasn’t just good, it was great. Once back in St. Dennis, he turned onto Kelly’s Point Road and drove to the end. They got out of the car and he steered her to the left side of the narrow boardwalk and the old crabber’s shack that had been converted into an ice cream shop.
“Oh, One Scoop or Two. Everyone talks about this place, and I meant to come down here and never did.”
“Shhhh.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “That’s like a sin around here. If you want to live here, you have to make a weekly stop—at the very least—to see what Steffie has concocted.”
The sign outside the shop promised ice cream using local ingredients and made by hand.
“She comes up with the wildest flavors.” Owen opened the door and held it for Cass. “Let’s see what she has on the chalkboard today.”
“Chocolate thunder, peach blossom, wildflower honey, black raspberry divine, pumpkin spice . . .” The woman behind the counter rattled off the flavors without looking at the board. She was tall, slender, and had a long blond ponytail and an easy smile. “Of course, we have the standards: vanilla bean, double chocolate fudge, strawberry supreme. I think we also might have some chocolate raspberry and maybe a little bit of peanut-butter pie left. I can check in the back if you want.”
“Ah, that’s okay, Stef. I think I’m good.” Owen turned to Cass. “You want to hear more?”
“No, no. She had me at pumpkin spice.”
“An excellent choice. I just made it this morning, and it’s fabulous, if I do say so myself.” Wielding a scoop, Stef opened the case. “Cone or dish?”
“Cone, thanks.”
“Sugar or waffle?”
“Sugar.”
“Stef, this is my friend Cass Logan.” Owen turned to Cass. “Stef makes all her own ice cream every day.”
“I’m impressed,” Cass said. “That’s quite a selection.”
“Thank you. I try to be modest about it, but . . . why?” Steffie smiled broadly. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. Oh, that and marry the coolest, handsomest, hottest guy in St. Dennis. With apologies, Owen, but you’re Cannonball Island, so you weren’t a contender.”
Owen laughed and studied the chalkboard.
“So did you?” Cass couldn’t help but ask. “Marry the cool, handsome, hot guy?”
Steffie held up her ring finger and wiggled it. “Two babies later and we’re living happily ever after.”
“Good for you.” Cass felt her stomach flutter with something that could have been envy, if she’d wanted to put a name to it.
“Steffie’s husband, Wade, is half of MadMac Brews,” Owen explained.
“That he is.” Stef handed over Cass’s cone. “You’re up, Owen. What’s it gonna be?”
“Gotta be one scoop of chocolate thunder, one scoop of peanut-butter pie.”
“You’re on.” Stef completed the order and walked to the cash register, where she gave Owen the cone and the total. “How’s my friend Ruby these days? I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”
“She’s doing great.” Owen handed Stef a ten. “I’d take her something but I’m not going right home.”
“You can bring her back later.” Stef gave him back his change.
Owen and Cass sat at the table nearest the counter and chatted with Stef, who was more than happy to tell Cass how she made up the names for the various flavors of ice cream she served.
“I can attest to the absolute deliciousness of the pumpkin spice.” Cass left her seat for the counter and another few napkins.
“You have a drip.” Stef pointed to the front of Cass’s shirt. “Come on in the back and I’ll see if we can get it out before it sets.”
“Oh, thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I’d hate to see that pretty top ruined by the stain from the spices I used in that recipe.”
Cass looked down at the spot on her shirt.
“It’ll only take a minute.” Steffie waved her to the back of the store.
“I’ll be right back,” Cass told Owen.
“I’ll be right here, working on my double-decker.” Owen leaned back in the chair.
“Do you think it will leave a permanent mark?” Cass frowned as Stef wetted a cloth at the sink in the back room.
“I hope not.” Stef handed Cass the cloth.
“This must be your workroom.” Cass looked around at the many shelves and cabinets that lined every inch of wall space as she dabbed at the mark.
“It is. I tried doing it at home, but with young kiddies”—Stef shook her head—“it just wasn’t going to work. So now my husband and I take turns in the morning staying home with them while the other works, and either my mother or his sister watches them in the afternoons.”
“Convenient to have family around.”
The bell over the shop door rang and Cass heard footsteps cross the wooden floor. “I think you have a customer.”
Stef looked out through the doorway. “Hi, Ken. I’ll be right with you.”
“I think I got it all.” Cass studied the front of her shirt.
“You did.” Stef nodded.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Stef walked back to the front of the shop and Cass followed.
Owen was sitting in the chair where Cass’d left him, looking up at the bearded man who stood five feet from the table. There’d obviously been some conversation, but from the expression on Owen’s face, it hadn’t been particularly friendly.
“What can I get for you today, Kenny?” Steffie called.
The customer turned from Owen and went to the counter.
Cass returned to the table. “Thanks to Stef, I have a stain-free shirt.”
“Looks good. Are you finished?” Owen asked somewhat abruptly.
“Yes.”
“Come on. I can eat ice cream and walk at the same time.” He got up and waved to Stef.
The man at the counter turned, and the two men exchanged a look Cass couldn’t decipher. Neither spoke a word. Cass had wanted to say a parting word to Stef, but Owen led her by the elbow to the door and they went outside.
Cass tried to keep up with Owen’s long stride. “Is something wrong?”
“No, why?”
They reached the car. “Who was that guy?”
“Just someone I knew from school.” Owen unlocked the car and waited till she got in before slamming the door.
Obviously there was more to it than Owen admitted. His mood and his body language had changed in the time it had taken Cass to blot away a stain from her shirt.
Whoever he was and whatever he’d said had caused a cloud to cast a dark shadow over what had been a sunny day and had yanked Owen from that happy place he and Cass had shared.
She could feel the distance spreading between them, and she was at a loss to stop it. She wanted that sweet, thoughtful guy she’d spent the day with to come back, but she sensed that whatever had happened in Scoop was standing between them.
The only thing she knew for certain was that Owen had retreated into himself, and there was no way of knowing when—or if—he’d be back.