Seaside Harmony Part 24

"Okay, how about this one," Gracie said, remembering many of the words quite well. "'Though we are far apart at present, my heart is with you every moment.'"

"Sounds rather endearing," Jamie said. "It wasn't all that long ago that I was plagued by a man whose heart was everywhere but with me, whether we were apart or together." It was the first time Gracie had heard Jamie mention Cory since she'd come back, and it was good to see her joking about him. Time, plus, no doubt, the business of the fall semester, had done wonders for her niece's heart.

"I can't get over thinking that the numbers mean something," said Jamie.

"Like what?" George asked, a forkful of potatoes close to his mouth. "A date and time, maybe? Code for a meeting place?"

"Do you really think they were meeting each other?" Caroline asked. "There aren't any dates and times, no mention of meeting."

"But that makes sense," George stated. "Hannah hid the postcards, which means she didn't want anyone seeing them. Maybe William was someone she'd been told not to see or communicate with."

"If that's true," Sam said, "it makes sense that he wouldn't have mentioned any dates and times for a meeting-outright, at least. Hannah could have gotten in trouble if the postcards were found."

"So maybe he did include some type of code in the postcards, but I don't know how to figure it out. I thought the numbers written on the back had something to do with dates and times, but there are too many numbers, and they make no sense."

"This is all giving me a headache." Gracie pressed her fingertips to her temples. "I'm only here for another few days. Couldn't we put those postcards aside for now? If we have time at Christmas, maybe the whole family can join in on the guessing game."

"Penny for your thoughts," George said, as he settled down on a deck chair on the back porch. Caroline was looking out at the vast black expanse beyond the sand. They were bundled up in bulky sweaters and jackets, listening to waves crash on the sh.o.r.e, watching stars skitter across the sky.

"Just thinking how much I love it here."

"I like it too. And it's a lot closer to Annapolis than England was, which makes it easier to see you. Those visits every three or four months were getting kind of old."

Caroline couldn't help but agree with George. Being with him here felt more relaxed than those visits had, in spite of all the time he had spent working on the Packard.

"One of these days, you might be able to visit and not have to work."

"I told you before, Caroline, that putting that Packard back together doesn't feel like work. Real work is sitting at a desk in my office, making sure bills are paid. It's hounding customers to get them to pay their invoices and making sure we have the right materials on hand for every job. Sometimes it means taking a phone call at three in the morning from a client who wants to lynch me because his boat is on the fritz, even though the problem is that he didn't maintain it properly. That gets old."

"I've never heard you talk like that before."

He sighed. "It's been building up. I've got to say that some of the best times I've had in the last six months have been right here on the island. I've liked spending time with you and your sisters, getting to know Bill Dekker and Pastor Wildes, and-"

"And working on the Packard." Caroline smiled. "I'm beginning to think you might want to take it away with you once it's totally refurbished."

"No, what I think I need to do is retire so I can spend more time here on the island and drive it whenever you think it's okay. See you when I want. Not have to catch a flight away from Nantucket, like I have to do in the morning."

"You told me once you'd never retire."

"A man can change his mind, can't he?"

"I suppose." The night air was crisp, but it was refres.h.i.+ng, carrying the scents of salt and damp leaves. "I just can't picture you happy unless you're working."

George pushed up from the chair, drawing Caroline up with him, and walked to the edge of the porch. "There are other jobs besides building and selling boats. Who knows? I might find a job with a tour company. Take little old ladies on scenic drives around Scotland. Or maybe I'll start a tour company for hearty souls who want to brave the less-than-peaceful parts of the world."

"That last option's out. I may not have any say in what you do or don't do, but I'd have to put my foot down on the brave-souls tour. I'd rather have my best friend alive than, well, the opposite."

George pulled her close. She'd always felt comfortable standing beside him, and sometimes she wondered why they'd never progressed beyond friends.h.i.+p. Sometimes, she supposed, more intimate relations.h.i.+ps aren't meant to be.

He kissed the top of her head as he always did when he said good-bye. She started to slip away from his arm, to let him go, but this time he turned toward her. He looked into her eyes, smiling softly. His fingers slipped under her chin and tilted her face up to meet him. And then he kissed her. So warm, it took her breath away, made her question every sane thought she'd ever had. And then he was gone.

Gracie climbed in bed and pulled up the soft blankets. It was cool enough now that they had piled down comforters on all the beds, and she snuggled under the covers. They smelled like the special lavender soap Sam used in the laundry. It was early to go to bed, but she needed some time to think. She couldn't get her mind off the postcards. She kept thinking about Hannah and William and Jedediah. Who was William, other than a minister from Boston? And what about Hannah? What was she to William?

Gracie punched her pillow, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. She didn't need to think about the mystery of the Misty Harbor Inn. She had so little time left at the inn, and there was so much left to do. She couldn't leave without doing her fair share.

Again she tried to doze off, thinking about the list she'd compiled before going to bed of all of the things that she needed to do before heading back to Portland, when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it off the nightstand and saw that it was Brandon.

She found herself sighing. The thought of talking to her son, whom she loved with all her heart, didn't bring all that much pleasure at the moment. He was bound to ask her if she could come home early because the kids needed her, or to make sure she wasn't planning to stay in Nantucket longer than she'd originally planned.

Gracie held the phone under the blanket. She didn't want to answer it. Didn't want to hear it. She wanted the ringing to stop-and at long last, it did.

Guilt tore through her. How on earth could she ignore her son? She quickly punched in his number.

Brandon picked up on the very first ring. "Hope my phone call didn't wake you, Mom."

"No, no, I was just . . . preoccupied." She hated to lie. Preoccupied was an honest enough excuse for not answering before. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Of course, the kids miss you."

She missed them too, but she didn't want to fall into Brandon's trap, his roundabout way of making her feel in the wrong for not being home to take care of them.

"Did you talk with Stacy yet about coming here for Christmas?" Gracie sat up and adjusted her pillows to support her back. "Caroline and Sam are making plans, and we're all hoping to have the entire family here."

"It's a long trip, Mom. It's been a long time since you traveled any distance with toddlers and a seven-year-old. Maybe you've forgotten how rough it can be."

She'd forgotten nothing. "You just fill the car with lots of games, play I Spy a thousand times, and before you know it, you're in Nantucket. Evelyn's asked me dozens of times about the ferry ride and if she'll see whales or seals, and really, Brandon, it's a lot closer than Scotland. I know you're making plans to take the family there in the next couple of years. I think you should plan this trip too."

What had come over her? She never made her children feel guilty. It didn't seem right, but she had asked him about Christmas several times already. He had to make a decision, and the sooner the better.

"I'll talk to Stacy about it. Football season'll be over and I do have two weeks off."

"The kids will love it here."

"I'll try to let you know when you get home. You're still coming home day after tomorrow, aren't you? Stacy wants you to help her make a Halloween costume, and you've got to be here for the harvest festival."

She thought about saying no. There was so much more to do around the inn. She wanted to plant more chrysanthemums and prune the roses. She wanted to buy old books to fill the library shelves. But Brandon and Stacy needed her. The children wanted her around. Reluctantly, she said, "I'll be home day after tomorrow."

She disconnected and let out a sigh. Was she living her own life or letting her son tell her how it should be lived?

"Well, I guess this is it." Caroline stood with Sam, seeing Jamie and Gracie off. Both of them were ready to leave the island and would not return until shortly before Christmas.

"Yep. And I've decided to free my mind of every thought I ever had about Hannah Montague," Jamie said, standing next to Gracie's small car. "I have my thesis to finish and two part-time jobs and I just don't have the time to think about some mysterious woman who died well over a hundred and thirty years ago."

"You and me both," Gracie said, the keys to her car dangling from her fingers. "So you decided to write about whalers instead?"

"I finished my paper last night." Jamie patted her bag.

"That's good to hear," Caroline said, "because I've put her out of my mind too." That wasn't exactly the truth, but she had to stay focused. Gracie had been hammering that into her head for months now. Thinking about Hannah Montague was pulling her away from her responsibilities. She wouldn't let that happen anymore.

Gracie c.o.c.ked her head to one side, looking at Caroline with a look of skepticism.

"Really," Caroline protested. "In fact, I've put away the postcards. Not where I can't get to them, but into the china cabinet, where they won't get carried off by a precocious pup."

"And I'll keep her away from them too," Sam said. "We've got most of the hard stuff done at the inn, but we need to keep on top of things. Advertising. Promotion. Going to chamber of commerce mixers. Getting to know more people in town, so they'll recommend the inn to their friends."

"All the things I dislike doing," Gracie said. "It's probably a good thing I'm leaving, or you'd have me giving a speech in front of the Rotary Club."

"We'd rather have you here, even if you did nothing but sit in the library and read all day," Caroline said. She was going to miss Gracie, even the cantankerous Gracie. "But when you're back here for Christmas, we should be able to do nothing but kick back, and that goes for the entire Marris clan."

"And George too?" Gracie asked.

"George too," Caroline said, once again remembering his kiss. It had felt so right, but she didn't want things to change between them. Their relations.h.i.+p had worked perfectly for ages; why stir up something that could easily lead to problems?

Off in the distance, Caroline heard the ferry sounding its horn. There weren't all that many this time of the year; there'd be even fewer come Christmastime. Caroline didn't want to wave good-bye to her sister and niece. She was going to miss them terribly. All she could hope was that someday Gracie would decide to stay.

That would be an awfully nice Christmas present, she decided. If not this year, then maybe next.

Caroline ran from one end of the inn to the other, checking every last detail. Candles stood in each of the house's front windows. The fudge was made-thanks to Sam. Christmas sugar cookies decorated. A tiny tree had been decorated in each guest room. Cinnamon sticks, pinecones, dried orange peels, and whole clove potpourri-the Misty Harbor Inn's own special mix-filled many of their mother's Christmas bowls and were scattered about the inn.

The Misty Harbor Inn had to be perfect. It was Christmas, after all, and the entire family would be there.

"Is the wreath on the front door?" Caroline called out to Sam, who bounced between the kitchen and the dining room, setting out candied nuts, toffee, and peanut brittle that she'd stayed up late last night making. Caroline had strung popcorn for the big Christmas tree in the parlor. Gaily wrapped presents were scattered all around.

"Where's your mind, Caroline? I've already answered that question at least three times, and the answer's still yes."

"Well, in answer to your question, Sam, my mind is gone. I think I lost most of it last June when we bought this place, but the good Lord has promised to return it to me someday soon."

"Thank heaven!"

Caroline stood in the foyer checking out the evergreen garland wrapped around their curved stairway. Red velvet bows she and Sam had made added a touch of extra color to the garland. At the Misty Harbor Inn, the holidays would always be done up right.

"Mom would be so proud," Sam said, slipping an arm around Caroline's waist.

Caroline nodded. She drew in a deep breath. "Sometimes it's hard to believe that it's all really ours."

"When I think how sore my back has been since June and how little sleep we've gotten at times, I definitely believe it's ours," Sam said.

Caroline took a deep breath. "Well, should we head to the ferry to pick everyone up?"

Sam nodded. "Gracie's going to be so surprised when she sees how much has happened to the inn."

"She will, and she might even wonder why she balked at buying it in the first place."

They had accomplished a lot in the two months since Gracie had gone home. The guest rooms were just about ready now. They'd hung the wallpaper in the Periwinkle Room and the Amaryllis Room, and with simple bed linens, the furniture shone. They'd chosen dark green for the walls of the other room, and had added a few modern touches like contemporary lamps to blend the old and the new. They had decided to call that the Emerald Room. And for the suite, they'd decided to make the smaller room child-friendly, with a synthetic rug and gray- and green-striped washable wallpaper.

Caroline wrapped her thick wool scarf a little tighter around her neck and opened the front door, and she and Sam stepped out onto the front porch. The Packard was waiting, its bright red paint spit-polished and s.h.i.+ned, looking as it probably had the day it was driven off the showroom floor.

"Your carriage awaits." George opened the back pa.s.senger door and took a little bow. He looked handsome in his black wool trousers and his green cashmere sweater, with his blue eyes sparkling. He'd come a week early to make sure the Packard was in pristine shape for this day-Christmas Eve-and Caroline gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before climbing into the car.

Bing Crosby was singing "White Christmas" as they drove to the ferry terminal. The sound came out sweet and low through the speakers George had discreetly installed. He'd tossed a red afghan over one row of backseats and a green afghan over the second row to keep all his pa.s.sengers-three children and seven adults, plus himself-snug and warm. The Packard would hold them all perfectly. Next June, it would hold their guests too. What a year they had to look forward to.

At the ferry terminal, George, Sam, and Caroline huddled together, watching for Gracie, Jamie, and the rest of the family. At long last they appeared, bundled up in coats and jackets, walking down from the ferry as sprinkles of snow floated down.

Gracie practically flew into Sam's and Caroline's arms. Had it really been only two months since they'd seen her?

Caroline hugged nieces and nephew and grandniece and grand nephews-the twins and seven-year-old Evelyn, who was the light of Gracie's life-and in only minutes, they were winding their way down icy streets, heading for the big old mansion sitting atop the dunes.

When they had settled in, Jamie took her cousins on a tour, and George went into the kitchen to make hot apple cider. Caroline, Sam, and Gracie stood arm in arm in the foyer.

"I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it is." Gracie's eyes sparkled as she took it all in.

"It's far more beautiful than it was the last time you were here," Sam said. "The upholstery work's done, and the pictures are hung-including old Jedediah and Hettie."

"Oh dear! I hope the little ones don't see that pair and have nightmares."

"We could always cover them with a sheet," Sam said.

"Or hang a wreath over them," Caroline added.

"No, I suppose we just have to get used to them," Gracie said firmly. "After all, they've pretty much become a part of our family."

"Speaking of family, look at this."

Sam held out a picture, and Gracie stepped closer to see it. Sam had worked on it for more than two months now. She'd even given up sleep to finish her masterpiece-a sampler not unlike the one Hannah Elliott Montague had created.

Caroline studied the Misty Harbor Inn sampler. All around the edge, Sam had embroidered sailing s.h.i.+ps and whales. She'd worked in shades of blue, with hints of pale to dark gray and white. The st.i.tches were so small that the blue sky and puffy clouds seemed real, as if they were floating across the sky. At the center was the inn, but Sam had tried to envision it as if Hannah Montague were st.i.tching the sampler well over a hundred years ago. She'd even put Hannah in the picture-a young woman on a bench in the garden.

"It's beautiful, and such a nice tribute to Hannah." Gracie's eyes were wide, full of admiration. "I said I wouldn't think about her when I was gone, but I did. Of course, I've come to realize that we don't know truth from fiction about her any longer. We've made up so many stories about her."

"Caroline and I have made up even more while you've been gone, but let's not talk about Hannah right now. You have to see what all we've done."

Sam grabbed Gracie's hand and led her from room to room. There were pine wreaths and garland everywhere and a sprig of mistletoe just for fun. Out on the back porch stood a flocked tree decorated with seash.e.l.l ornaments and a starfish on top.

"Wait till you see it at night," Caroline said. "It's covered with tiny twinkling fairy lights, like most everything else in the garden."

"Let me guess," Gracie said, "George did a lot of the decorating."

"Most all of the outside," Caroline admitted, proud as punch. "But there's one more thing you have to see."

"You're going to love this," Sam said, leading Gracie to the library.

Gracie's eyes brightened when she entered the room. They sparkled. "We still need a few hundred more books to fill the shelves, but we wanted to get started."

Gracie walked slowly toward the bookcase on the far wall. She touched the leather-bound books gently. "Alcott, d.i.c.kens, Austen, Byron." She turned with s.h.i.+ning eyes and smiled at her sisters. "Even a copy of Moby d.i.c.k."

"We wanted to pick books we thought Hannah might have read."

"You did a great job," Gracie said, running her finger along the spines. "A perfect job. I wish I'd been here to help."