Sunrise on Cedar Key (3 page)

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Authors: Terri Dulong

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Sunrise on Cedar Key
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“Suellen, you really need to stop reading so many romance novels.”
“My point exactly. So when a really nice fellow comes along, who just happens to be exceptionally good looking
and
has a sexy French accent, then, Grace Stone, you need to sit up and pay attention.”
I laughed again. “Give it up. It's just a dinner.
With
a chaperone.”
“Right, sweetie. Whatever you say. I'll call you next week. Love ya.”
Shaking my head, I clicked the disconnect button on my cell.
“She's a hopeless romantic,” I said out loud, causing Annie to pop her head up and look at me curiously. Sitting on the bed I began stroking her head. “Well, girl, we're in quite a predicament, aren't we? Here we are—our home is gone, I have no job, no clue where I'm going from here, but we have each other. And for right now, that'll have to be enough.”
Annie edged closer to me, whined, and licked my hand.
3
W
hen I opened my eyes Monday morning, it took me a minute to orient myself. Although it wasn't what I'd woken to for the past ten years, the room still had a comforting and homey feel to it. The furniture that had sat in my bedroom in Brunswick was now arranged in the second-floor apartment of Coachman House.
A new box spring and mattress had been added when I'd returned after graduating college, but the same thick, scrolled, mahogany headboard was behind me. My glance scanned to take in the large matching bureau, vanity, desk, and bookcases.
My plan for the day was to get the drapes hung and the rest of the apartment in a livable condition. Right now boxes consumed a lot of the space. The digital clock that I'd unpacked the day before read 6:42. As I stretched and yawned, Annie jumped on the bed to greet me.
“Good morning, girl. See, I told you we wouldn't be homeless. Come on, let me get the coffee going and I'll bring you outside.”
The bedroom I'd chosen was the larger one with attached bathroom at the back of the house. The hallway led to the second bedroom and bath, which looked out onto F Street. I peeked in to see the futon and bureau the movers had placed there yesterday. A bit skimpy right now, but it would be the perfect guest room for Suellen's visits.
Turning right off the hall, I stood and stared at the large, open great room that flowed back to the kitchen and dining area. Sunlight streamed through the picture window that dominated the far wall of the kitchen, giving a view of the deck and garden below.
Like the guest room, these rooms also looked empty. A black leather sofa and matching chair were all that occupied the great room, but the focal point was the intricately carved fireplace on the outside wall. I walked over to run my finger along the beautiful oak mantel, feeling the indentations of scrollwork done by a carpenter many years ago. I was immediately transported to the fireplace in my aunt's parlor. As a child, I loved to touch the wood surrounding it, feel the solidness and stability. A sense of serenity enveloped me, but I swung around quickly because I could have sworn I wasn't alone in the room.
Only Annie sat there patiently waiting to be taken outside.
Get a grip, Grace,
I thought.
You haven't had those types of feelings since you were twelve
.
Walking into the kitchen, I pushed the button on the coffeemaker that I'd prepared the night before.
I opened the door that led out to the deck and inhaled the clean, refreshing smell of the Gulf. “Come on, Annie. You don't need a leash, because you now have a fenced yard.”
She followed me down the steps and promptly began sniffing around. I stood there taking in the overgrown garden, knowing how much Aunt Maude would enjoy bringing it back to life. Situated in the center was the old carriage house. Both Coachman House, which had been named for Ben Coachman, a previous owner, and the carriage house had been built between 1870 and 1884. Although the house had been totally renovated seven years before, it had been vacant for the past few years. The structure of the carriage house was sound, but the inside would need an overhaul if my aunt planned to do anything with it.
I turned around to the sound of her voice.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I said, smiling as my aunt passed me a mug of coffee. “And what time did you get up? Four o'clock?”
My aunt laughed. “Not quite. Five. I've been busy unpacking and trying to get organized. I hope I didn't wake you with any noise.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Are you kidding? The walls in that place must be three feet thick.”
“Actually, the exterior and interior walls are fourteen inches thick. That's the beauty of old houses. They were built for quiet and privacy.”
I nodded, looking at the back of the house. My aunt had an identical deck below mine, and the large windows not only gave a feeling of welcome but allowed the house to be bright and airy inside.
“I still can't believe you bought this place. I've loved it from the first time I ever came to Cedar Key. There was just something about it—maybe a pull to the past. I don't know, but I'm thrilled that you now own it, and I feel pretty fortunate to be living here with you.”
“I always loved this house too. When I'd come to visit you and stay at the B and B, I'd walk over here and just stand on the sidewalk staring at it. I think I always knew I wanted to be the owner. I had even gone downtown to the library to find out the history on it. It's a fine example of Greek Revival townhouse form, and of course it's only one of the two surviving tabby houses on the island. I was always impressed with the fact that this house was built with burned oyster shells, sand, lime, and water. You're just like I am, Grace. You're drawn to the mystique of old houses. Ah, if only these walls could talk.”
This reminded me of the feeling I'd had in the great room. “Hmm, I wonder if it comes with a resident ghost,” I joked.
My aunt's expression turned serious. “I wouldn't be at all surprised,” she said. “Now, how about a nice hearty breakfast to start your day?”
“Oh, no. Just because I'm living upstairs from you, I don't want you catering to me. I'm a big girl now. There's no need for you to be cooking my meals.”
Maude smiled. “I understand, but you have to indulge me on our first morning here. I was going to whip up some omelets, sausage, and grits.”
I laughed. “Guess I can't refuse that,” I said, following her into her apartment with Annie close at my heels.
“Oh, your kitchen looks great. Gee, it looks like you've always lived here. You've been working hard.”
I looked around and saw an oak table with four chairs placed against the half wall separating the kitchen and a proper dining room, which was the only difference between the apartments.
“Are you just going to leave the carriage house empty?” I asked, sitting at the table while my aunt began preparing breakfast.
“Well, I'm not sure. I've given some thought to maybe opening a small business.”
“A business? Another antique business like you had with my parents in Brunswick?”
“No. As much as I always enjoyed that, I knew when I closed my shop five years ago that was the end of my antique business days.” She paused for a moment while pouring the omelet batter into the fry pan. “I was thinking along the lines of knitting.”
“Knitting? But Monica owns the yarn shop in town, and you must realize this small town doesn't warrant two of them.”
My aunt laughed as she turned from the stove. “Yes, I realize that. But I was thinking about offering weekend knitting retreats for women.”
She definitely had my interest. When it came to this craft, my aunt and I were avid, addicted knitters. I couldn't remember a time that Aunt Maude wasn't working on one project or another, and I still recalled my excitement when she'd given me my first pair of needles and a skein of yarn when I was eight years old. She had patiently taught me the basics, which then enabled me to also become a proficient knitter.
“That sounds great,” I told her. “What do you have in mind?”
“I'm not quite sure,” she said, stirring the grits. “My plan is still in the early stages, but I was thinking about doing some major advertising, especially on the Internet. There's been such a renewal for knitting lately and there's a lot of knitting websites and blogs. We now have large knitting conventions across the country, all kinds of knitting groups at yarn shops, and as much as I love the act of knitting, I think part of the renewed interest is because it's something that brings women together. An activity that allows them to relax, talk, get to know each other, probably even share secrets. So why not have a place for them to gather for an entire weekend, on a beautiful island, surrounded by quiet and Mother Nature? A place that will offer them a getaway to just come together as women, friends, sisters, whatever.”
“Oh, I love it!” I said, feeling the sadness of the past few days being replaced with excitement. “That's a fantastic idea. So you're thinking of using the carriage house as a knitting workshop or studio for the women?”
My aunt nodded as she placed our plates on the table and sat down. “Exactly. It will need some refurbishing but not any major work. We have a lot of various lodging on the island, so they would do their own bookings for accommodations. But the carriage house has a bathroom and even a galley kitchen. So we could offer a luncheon, which would be included in the price for the weekend. I was thinking about getting with Monica and Dora. If the women don't bring their own yarn, perhaps Monica could give them a bit of a discount if they purchased it there at Yarning Together. And maybe we could get Dora to help us if we offered advanced classes on knitting. But most of all, it would be two full days for women to bond and connect.”
“I'd say you've already given this quite a lot of thought, and I have a feeling it would be wildly successful.” I took a bite of my aunt's delicious grits. “I'd be more than happy to help you in any way I could.”
“I was hoping you'd say that. I'm not very computer literate, I'm afraid, but I know enough to realize how important an online presence can be. I could really use your help in setting up a website, maybe even a blog, and getting the word out with some advertising.”
“Absolutely,” I said, my excitement notching up another level. “Oh, and Facebook. I'll set up a page on there, which will help in getting the word out.” I took a sip of coffee as another thought occurred to me. “How about if you also include a Blue Moon ceremony on the final evening? You know, like Dora and Sybile started years ago.”
My aunt nodded. “I remember Sydney and Monica telling me all about that during one of my visits here. They had the final one just before Sybile passed away, and from what they said, it certainly was a means to bring Sydney closer to her mother and daughter.”
“Right. We could get all the details from Dora. But I'm sure women would love that. An actual ceremony to validate being a woman and the relationships that we share.”
“I think that ceremony would be a wonderful addition to the knitting retreat weekend. So can I count on your help with that as well?”
“Definitely. I'm sure Monica will give me any information I need, but with her being pregnant she's pretty busy getting ready for her new arrival in March. When Suellen gets here, she can help. She'll enjoy being involved in something like this.”
“Okay, then it's settled. You and I are going to begin a knitting retreat weekend on Cedar Key. But—and I don't want any arguing from you—if you'd like to do this with me, and God knows I could really use your help in a million different ways, I want to make you a partner in this. An official partner.”
I had an idea where my aunt was heading. “I'd love to do this with you, but I'm doing it because of exactly that. Because I
want
to.”
“And you're going to be on a payroll. We're going to see an attorney and an accountant, because I want to set this up as a small business and have it as a limited liability corporation. This way if, God forbid, somebody wanted to sue us for injuries on the premises or anything like that, our primary assets would be safe.”
I shook my head and smiled. “Leave it to you. Sounds like you've got all the bases covered.”
“Not quite. We have to come up with a name for the retreats and business, so you can be thinking about that.”
That old saying popped into my head, “When one door closes, another one opens,” and although my heart still ached with my recent loss, hearing Aunt Maude's exciting new plans for both of us lifted my spirits.
Little did I know then that my aunt's relocation would also produce a fly in the ointment—in the form of my sister, Chloe.
4
W
hen I left my aunt's apartment following breakfast I noticed her tarot cards sitting in a stack on the kitchen counter, which made me realize I'd neglected to read my own cards for the past three days. Almost all of our French ancestors had been brought up reading the cards, and by the time I was ten years old, I was following generations of LaVassier women.
Reaching inside my bureau drawer I removed the black velvet pouch that held my cards and brought them to the kitchen. Pulling up a stool, I let out a deep sigh. Just holding the cards transferred a sense of positive energy for me. Normally I also lit some incense and had my crystals nearby, but since I hadn't completed unpacking yet, I'd have to make do.
While I was at my aunt's house the previous week I was more than a little surprised to see the Rebel card appear each morning in my spread—a card that had not shown up for ten years, a card that had always represented Beau.
I shuffled three times and let my mind wander before reaching for the top card. Damn. There it was again, and despite the passage of time, the thought of Beau Hamilton still had the ability to bring back long-forgotten memories.
The Rebel card depicted the image of a man with authority. With the sun on his shoulder, he's holding a torch and uses this inner light to guide himself to the beat of his own drummer. The card represents an individual who possesses a lot of magnetism and charisma.
That was certainly Beau Hamilton. My mind began to drift back to the pull that he'd had on me from the moment I'd met him, the laughter, the fun we'd shared, the incredible lovemaking—followed by the tears, the disappointment, and the guilt for allowing myself to be in a situation I had no business being in.
Why the hell was his card showing up now? After all this time. I put it aside, closed my eyes, and took in a few more cleansing breaths before removing another card.
This one was the Number XI Major Arcana and represented
breakthrough
. The card signified facing one's inner demons and coming to terms with the pain of the past.
What the hell was this supposed to mean? I had come to terms with my past after leaving Brunswick ten years ago.
Blowing out a whoosh of air I reached inside the deck for another card, which was a minor arcana and represented
stress
. Gee, big surprise here.
The final card I removed was the one that always represented my sister. The Thunderbolt card, which signified holding on tightly to any security. Yup, that was Chloe. Queen of control freaks.
Chloe was twelve years older than me and we'd never been close. Over the years I came to understand that our age difference had nothing to do with this fact. Our lack of a sisterly relationship had more to do with Chloe's self-centered personality and her choice to isolate herself from Aunt Maude and me.
I replaced the cards inside the pouch, got up, and stretched. As I was about to tackle unpacking some boxes I heard a knock on the kitchen door.
“Monica,” I exclaimed, when I saw my friend standing on the deck. “Come on in, but don't mind the mess.”
She pulled me into a tight embrace. “Gracie, I'm so sorry about the fire. I would have come by sooner, but Adam and I just got back last night. We took Clarissa to Disney for the weekend. How're you doing?”
I indicated a stool for her to sit on as I joined her at the breakfast bar. “Actually, better today than Friday. I think the shock of it is wearing off, and Jim Jacobs was right—at least I wasn't there when the fire occurred.”
“Isn't that the truth. I drove past there this morning, and it looks like you lost just about everything?”
I nodded. “Yup. But I'm pretty fortunate to have this apartment.”
Monica's glance took in the kitchen and scanned to the great room. “I've always loved this house, and I know you did too. Do you think you'll be rebuilding the coffee shop?”
“I seriously doubt that. With the FEMA laws, if I did rebuild, it would have to be a stilt structure, and I just can't see some of the older folks climbing so many stairs for a cup of coffee.”
“Hmm, I see what you're saying. But maybe you could lease another piece of property.”
“No, I think my coffee barista days are over. However ... I think I'll be going into the yarn business.”
I saw the expression of surprise that covered Monica's face and laughed. “No, no. I won't be your competition in town,” I assured her, and went on to explain Aunt Maude's plan.
“Oh, Gracie, I think that's a great idea. What a perfect thing to do with the carriage house, and be sure to tell Maude I'd be more than happy to give discounts to the women attending the retreats.”
“She was hoping you'd consider that, and also that maybe Dora would help us with some advanced knitting classes.”
“I have no doubt she'd love that.” She reached over to pat my hand. “And Grace, I'm not saying the fire was a good thing, but who knows. This new path could take you in a wonderful direction.”
“Could be,” I said, and shrugged. “So how are
you
doing? I have to say, pregnancy seems to agree with you. You look great.”
I still had no idea where my life was headed, but here was a woman who a year ago had no clue what she wanted when it came to motherhood. She'd almost convinced herself she never wanted children—and then her stepdaughter, Clarissa Jo, came into her life and proved her totally wrong.
“I'm doing wonderful. Barely any morning sickness. Just a little tired, but that's to be expected in the first few months. My main problem is keeping Adam and Clarissa from waiting on me hand and foot.”
I laughed. “Hey, enjoy it while you can.”
Monica glanced at her watch. “I need to open the yarn shop. It's almost ten. I hope you won't be offended, but ... I brought you some clothes. I know you lost pretty much everything in the fire.” She patted her tummy. “And even though I'm only nine weeks along, it won't be much longer till I'm in maternity clothes. So I brought you a few bags of things I thought you could use. We're the same size—right now, anyway—so I want you to have them. They're downstairs on the golf cart.”
Monica's kindness brought moisture to my eyes. “Oh, gosh, are you sure? That's so nice of you.” I stood to give her a hug before following her down the stairs.
Three large shopping bags sat on the golf cart seat.
“Now, it's nothing fancy,” she said. “Well, except for a few dresses and skirts—absolute musts in a single girl's wardrobe. But mostly shorts, jeans, and tops. That sort of thing. Oh, I threw in a few pairs of heels, too—another mandatory item.”
“Thank you so much, and I'll return them as soon as I get around to doing some shopping. But I'll probably kill myself in these four-inch stilettos,” I said, removing a gorgeous pair of black, strappy designer heels.
“Oh, you will not, and don't worry about returning them any time soon. I have a feeling it'll be next summer before these might fit me again.”
I stood on the curb with the bags at my feet watching her drive away as I waved and blew her a kiss. Monica did look great. Maybe it was that glow that pregnant women seemed to have. I momentarily felt a sliver of jealousy go through me. We might be extremely good friends but not close enough that she was aware of the longing I'd managed to suppress for so many years.
 
I had spent the morning and early afternoon getting my new place in shape. Boxes of essentials had been unpacked. Aunt Maude claimed to have an overflow of dishes, cooking items, glassware, towels, and linens, and I was the recipient. Many of the items had been things from the antique shop, packed away for years, that she couldn't bear to part with, and now I was able to put them to use.
Glancing at my watch, I saw it was two o'clock and realized that I'd worked through lunch. Definitely time for my afternoon coffee break.
Hollering to Annie, I headed for the back stairs. “Let's go see if Aunt Maude would like to join me for coffee.”
“Come in,” she called at my knock. “I'm in the front room.”
I found my aunt sitting in her favorite cushy chair, feet elevated on a hassock, knitting away with one eye on her favorite soap opera.
“Am I interrupting?” I asked.
“Don't be silly,” she said, placing the beautiful beige cable sweater on the end table and getting up. “I was hoping you'd come down for a visit. Getting settled in?”
I followed her to the kitchen. “I'm making a dent. So I'm getting there.”
Watching her scoop coffee into the filter and fill the carafe with water, I smiled. “I could use some of that.”
“And I bet you didn't stop for lunch,” she said, uncovering tin foil from a perfectly shaped banana bread. “So we'll have some of this to go with it. Dinner's not till eight at Lucas's, but we don't want to ruin our appetite for that French dinner, so this should tide you over.”
After my aunt placed the coffee and dessert plates on the table she joined me, and I noticed her expression had grown serious.
“Anything wrong?” I asked, taking a bite of the delicious banana bread I knew she'd baked earlier that morning.
My aunt took a sip of coffee before speaking, and I knew she was formulating her thoughts. Living with somebody almost all of your life enables you to know them pretty well. But I wasn't prepared for what she was about to tell me.
“I wouldn't say exactly
wrong,
but I got some disturbing news earlier. Your sister called me.”
Disturbing news coming from Chloe had been a pattern over the years. Since she seldom called me at all, the news I got always came secondhand from my aunt. Like when my oldest nephew, whom I also barely knew, graduated college and chose to move to New York for a job. Chloe had had a hard time letting go. Or when Parker was bogged down at work and had to cancel their European vacation. Or the designer she'd hired to remodel their large and elegant home on St. Simons Island up and quit on her, accusing her of being much too difficult to work with.
I let out a sigh. “Now what?” I asked, although I wasn't the least bit interested.
“Well, ah ... it seems that she and Parker have separated. He moved out of their house.”
“What? He left her? Miss High and Mighty of the Snobby Wives Club? No! Did he finally, after all these years, get tired of living with a control freak?”
Aunt Maude took another sip of coffee. “I'm afraid it's a bit more involved than that. He left her for another woman.”
Oh! God! “Are you serious?”
My aunt nodded. “And making it even worse, the woman works for him at his real estate agency, and ... she's twenty-two years younger than Parker.”
Holy shit! That would make her, what? Twenty-eight years old. Not even my bitchy sister deserved a slap in the face like that. I couldn't imagine what that must do to a woman's self-esteem. “Maybe he's just going through a midlife crisis? I mean, he just turned fifty. Sometimes this happens, but it never amounts to anything.”
My aunt shook her head. “I wish it were that simple, but I'm afraid there's a bit more to it. Apparently this girl ... woman ... is pregnant with Parker's child. He's pushing for an instant divorce so that he can marry her.”
“Oh. My. God,” was all I could think of to say.
Aunt Maude let out a deep sigh. “Exactly. Needless to say, it's a terrible situation. The good thing is that Chloe will be okay financially. She got herself an excellent attorney, and the papers have been filed for the divorce. Which means it will be final and he'll be free to remarry before she has the baby in December.”
My sister's life was beginning to sound like an episode from one of my aunt's soap operas. “Well, when did this all come about? How long has Chloe known? When did Parker move out?” I had a million questions.
“It seems it all came to a head this past June when he confronted her about the woman and he moved out.”
“June! You mean to tell me her marriage broke up three months ago and she's just
now
getting around to telling you about it?”
My aunt fingered the edge of the tablecloth. “Well, you know Chloe. Never one to let anybody think something was amiss in her life. She's never been like you, Grace. Wanting to confide and really be a part of the family.”
“Right. She'd rather be a phony and live her little fairy-tale life, making everyone think her marriage and lifestyle was the ultimate dream of all women. So, why now? Why the heck did she suddenly decide to share the truth with you?”
Aunt Maude got up, poured more coffee into our mugs, and sat back down. “That's what you and I need to discuss,” she said.
Uh! Oh! I didn't like the sound of this at all. “What do you mean?”

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