Firefly Mountain (27 page)

“It’s not a glorified rat, Raina. It’s a cat. People all over the world have accepted them as domestic pets.”

“Not me. I’m afraid the thing will scratch my eyes out while I sleep.” She sat on the edge of a sawhorse in the great room.

“I think a cat would have to worry about getting its eyes scratched out by you while it slept.”

Raina let out a hiss and laughed. “I thought you were a solid dog man. All the way. Man’s best friend and all that crap. To see you standing here,
cuddling
no less, with that fleaball is disturbing. It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“You’re right.” Patrick let the kitten crawl up onto his shoulder. “If you told me I’d be owning a cat last week, I’d have said you were insane.”

The kitten pushed her nose into his ear and he laughed. Really laughed. The sound surprised him as the kitten rubbed her cheek along his neck. “There is something about this one, though. She doesn’t meow, but the vet couldn’t find anything wrong with her.”

Patrick plucked the kitten from his shoulder and set her in the crook of his bent arm. She nestled in against his chest, all warm and small. She’d done the same thing this morning in his bed. Patrick had slept soundly last night for the first time in a long time. No dreams. No nightmares. When he’d opened his eyes as sunlight poured into his bedroom, the little kitten was curled into a tight circle on his bare chest. He’d watched her tiny body rise and fall as he breathed.

She hadn’t been afraid to settle down on his scars. They hadn’t kept her from choosing that spot to sleep. She hadn’t cared. The kitten wanted to be close to him on her first night in her new home. She hadn’t judged. She hadn’t run. She’d accepted.

Patrick felt he owed something to the kitten for that.

Raina stood and took a step closer. She ran a finger down the kitten’s solid black back. “She is cute, I guess. Now that I really look at her. What are you going to name her?”

“I don’t know yet,” Patrick said. “It’ll come to me.”

Raina nodded and looked around the great room. “So what are you working on today, Mr. Construction?”

Patrick set the kitten down on the ground and let her play with his shoelace for a moment. She bounced around his boot, swiping at the loop of string then skittering back as if she expected it to attack her in retaliation.

“Shower install, master bathroom. I started it last night.” Patrick led Raina to the bathroom, and she peeked inside.

“Nice window. That’s new.”

“Did that yesterday too. It was too dark in here.”

Raina whistled as she admired the beginnings of a corner shower stall. “You are a Renaissance man, Patrick. You try it all when it comes to construction.”

“Grandpa taught me well.” Patrick glanced at his grandfather’s old toolbox on the floor in the bathroom. He remembered helping Grandpa make it in the workshop. “Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? If I mess something up, I can always call in somebody to fix it. It’s all just one big experiment.”

“As is life,” Raina said.

“Life is not as easily fixed.”

“Shouldn’t keep you from trying things, though.” Raina poked him in the stomach, and Patrick backed up so she could come out of the bathroom. She strolled through the great room to the front door. Patrick followed behind her with the kitten scurrying between his feet.

When Raina reached the door, she turned around. “Don’t lose track of time, okay? You’d better be ready when I come to pick you up.” She wagged a long finger at him.

Patrick reached out and grabbed her finger. “Don’t scold me. I haven’t done anything wrong yet.” He smiled as he twisted her finger slightly.

Raina kicked at his boot and pulled herself free. “Despite the new love of soft, fluffy kittens, I know you, Patrick Barre. You get your tools going, and suddenly time doesn’t exist. You’re in another dimension, population of one.”

Patrick held his hands up in surrender. “Point made. I’ll set the alarm on my watch so I’ll stop an hour early. Make sure I’m all cleaned up and ready.”

“I’m not trusting your watch.” Raina shook her head. “I’m calling you one hour before I come to get you. I wouldn’t want to be you if you don’t answer the phone.” She wagged her finger again and ripped open the front door before Patrick could grab her. The sound of her laughter floated in on the hot breeze.

Patrick stepped to the threshold and waved to Raina as she backed out of his driveway. A scratching noise down at his feet made him look down. The kitten pawed the casing around the door and turned her headlight eyes up to him. Patrick crouched and picked up the kitten. Setting her on his knee, he looked at her eye-to-eye. She opened her mouth and pantomimed a meow. Not even a squeak came out.

“What are you trying to say, kitty?” Patrick rubbed between her ears. “I think I’ll call you Whisper.” He placed his hand on his stomach and thought about the kitten on his chest this morning, on his scars. “I hope you can keep a secret.”

****

Gini slipped into the turquoise dress she’d brought with her for the wedding. Satin spaghetti straps hung over her tanned shoulders. A scalloped neckline and high waist emphasized her breasts nicely. The hem of the dress reached about four inches above her knees and showcased two long legs that balanced on silver-sandaled feet. Willow’s mother had piled all of Gini’s hair into an intricate twist that spilled curls from the top and around her face.

Looking in the mirror, Gini was rather impressed with the outcome. She rarely got this fancified and almost didn’t recognize herself. She put on dangling silver heart earrings and a matching bracelet. A couple of touch-ups to her makeup, and she grabbed her camera and dressy purse. As she picked up the tiny purse—about one twentieth the size of her everyday bottomless pit—she wondered what Patrick would say. She only had room for her wallet, phone, keys, tissues, lipstick, and a mirror in the small clutch.

See, I can downsize.

Downstairs, Willow’s mother paced in the kitchen. When Gini touched her arm to stop her, Mrs. Greene looked up with tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Gini asked.

Mrs. Greene grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and dabbed at the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“My Willow is getting married.” She burst into a full sob and clung to Gini.

“That’s a good thing, Mrs. Greene. You’ve seen how happy she is.” Gini rubbed the woman’s back as the tears flowed.

“I know, I know. She’s walking on clouds. And Andrew is such a nice young man. He’ll take care of Willow, but…” Mrs. Greene blew her nose, “who’s going to take care of me?”

“Oh, Mrs. Greene, don’t see it as losing a daughter. See it as gaining a son.” Gini embraced Willow’s mother again and gave her a quick squeeze. “I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.”

Mrs. Greene nodded slowly as if she were turning Gini’s words over in her head. Gini wanted to say that she still had Lily, but somehow didn’t think that would be much comfort.

“It’s just that since my husband passed on, Willow’s been right there making sure I’m okay.” Mrs. Greene wiped her eyes once more. “But you’re right, Gini. Look at this cottage. Andrew turned it over to us for the week just like that. He’s not even going to be here until tonight. I suppose a man that does that sort of thing won’t leave me in a nursing home to rot when I’m old and feeble.”

“Who says you’re ever going to be old and feeble?” Gini winked and Mrs. Greene laughed through the last of her tears. “I mean, look at you. You look fantastic in that dress.” Gini waved her camera. “I just don’t know how I’ll manage keeping the lens focused on Willow with you looking all spectacular.”

Mrs. Greene swatted a hand in the air. “Aren’t you a sweetie? I always liked you, Gini Claremont.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Why aren’t you all married off?”

Gini drew in a deep breath.
Because I have the potential to blow things up with my rage.
“Don’t have the time, I guess.”

“Make the time, dear. You’re not being fair to the men of Vermont if you don’t.”

“They’ll manage,” Gini said.

Lily trudged into the kitchen in a violet kimono-style dress. Her black hair had been slicked back and gathered in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Two long black sticks held the bun in place and although Gini didn’t think the outfit screamed maid of honor, there was something classy about the look. Made Lily look more like a sophisticated lady than the gothic, twenty-something she really was. The only thing that ruined the picture was the hard, straight line of Lily’s mouth.

“Is it almost time to get this thing done?” She pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda. After popping the top open, Lily guzzled half the can down in one shot.

“You ruined all your lipstick.” Mrs. Greene plucked another napkin from the holder on the counter and walked over to Lily.

“Do not attempt to fuss with my face, Mother.” Lily ripped the napkin from Mrs. Greene’s hand.

“Do not attempt to ruin your sister’s day, Lily.” Mrs. Greene straightened to her full height, which was a few inches taller than her daughter. Lily shrank back a bit and used the napkin and the reflective metal of the toaster to wipe the lipstick streaks at the corners of her mouth.

When Mrs. Greene turned around to face Gini, she rubbed her temples. “I feel a headache coming on.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs and see to Willow?” Gini said. “I’m going to get a few shots of the ceremony site before it’s crowded with guests.”

Mrs. Greene headed for the stairs. Gini approached the counter and leaned against it. Lily crumpled up the napkin and turned black-brown eyes to Gini.

“What?” she asked.

“Take it down a notch, okay?” It was taking a bit of effort to keep the anger at bay. Gini made a decision right then to stay away from Lily for the rest of her stay in Rhode Island to be on the safe side. “Your sister is a great person, and she deserves a perfect day. You making comments and sulking around makes it un-perfect.”

Lily opened her mouth, but Gini held up a hand. “Just fade into the background. It’s not about you.”

Gini slipped out the French doors in the dining room before Lily could say anything. She crossed the wide patch of pristine lawn to the gazebo and chairs set up for family and friends. There had to be at least four hundred chairs by Gini’s estimate. She thought of the Matthews wedding she had photographed in Burnam. Seventy-five guests tops. On the bride’s family farm. Bride and groom had worn jeans and arrived at the ceremony on horseback. The reception was a barbecue.

Looking around at the mini water fountains, flowers, and candles in crystal holders set up on the round tables under hundreds of tiny lights strung through the trees, Gini didn’t think ribs on the grill or jeans would make an appearance tonight. Newport was a world away from Burnam. Love would be the only common factor between Willow’s wedding and the Matthews wedding, and Gini supposed that was all you needed anyway.

Not that she’d ever know.

“It’s not about you either,” she told herself. Shaking her head, she walked deeper into the area and started snapping photos of the decorations, the waiting gazebo, the prepped tables, the string quartet setting up, the ocean kissing the sand in the backdrop.

That shore at the edge of the property had called to her all day, but Willow had kept Gini busy with this and that. There hadn’t been a free moment to steal away to the beach and test the water with her bare toes. But tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day. Willow and Andrew would be off on their honeymoon in Australia, but had said Gini was welcome to stay with Mrs. Greene and Lily in the cottage for as long as she wanted. So tempting to stay for weeks, but Gini would make do with a day, two tops. She planned to bike ride along the coast tomorrow morning and be a beach bum for the rest of the day. She couldn’t wait.

Gini took a few more pictures of the grounds and caught a lovely sailboat gliding by on the water. The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon. Purple-pink streaks hovered above the dark water now, and a nearly full moon climbed to its zenith in the starry sky. The night was hot, but a soft breeze off the ocean kept it from being stifling. The air sifted through tall grasses that lined the border between lawn and sandy shore. The gentle swish was a music all its own.

“Gini!”

She turned around to see Willow leaning out a windowsill, dressed in white, several feet of stone cottage beneath her. The contrast between soft white wedding dress and rough gray rock was too much for Gini to resist. She snapped a picture, loving the play of textures.

“Come in here,” Willow called.

Gini waved and walked back to the cottage. She climbed the stairs and raised her hand to open the back door. Before her fingers made contact though, the door opened. Willow clamped onto Gini’s arm and yanked her inside. She pulled Gini upstairs into a bedroom and closed the door.

“What am I doing?” Willow’s eyes were wide, her skin pale.

“Getting married, I think,” Gini said.

“Why is my heart pounding? I don’t feel right. I think I’m going to vomit.” Willow sat on the end of the bed and pulled Gini down beside her. “Is it hot in here? I was cold like two seconds ago and now it’s boiling in here? Are you boiling?”

“Yikes,” Gini said. “Take a breath, Willow. What’s happening?”

“I think I’m freaking out. Andrew called me to let me know he’s at the main house and can’t wait to see me, to marry me.” She stood and paced in front of Gini. “Now, I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, okay.” Gini stood too and grasped Willow’s shoulders to stop her from wearing a rut in the carpet. “You’re just a little anxious. You love Andrew, right?”

“More than anything.”

“See, you didn’t have to think twice about that answer, Willow. This is right. You know it is.”

Willow grinned. “It
is
right. Andrew and I are meant to be husband and wife. I lost it for a minute there. Lily’s comments just kept circling through my head, and suddenly I thought I was making a monumental mistake.” She shook her head. “Not marrying Andrew would be a monumental mistake.”