The Long Way Home (18 page)

Ellie laughed. “You go on ahead. I’ll take these things back into the kitchen so that Dune doesn’t help herself to something she shouldn’t have, then I’ll join you.”

“How will I know where to look?” Carly paused in the doorway.

“Think of it as a scavenger hunt.”

Carly had already hit the top of the stairs. “Oh, my God. One, two, three … right here on the landing. I didn’t even notice them before. Oh, my God, Ellie …”

“Guess she found something she liked,” Ellie said to Dune. “Come on, girl. I’ll give you one of those little liver treats you like for being such a good girl.
Then we have to find some smelling salts and take them up to Aunt Carly, because when she sees what’s hanging over the bed in that back bedroom, she’s going to—”

“Oh. My. God. Ellie …!”

“Y
OU
make the best pancakes ever.” Ellie leaned an elbow on the kitchen table and watched Carly at the stove.

“It’s true.” Carly flashed a grin over her shoulder. “I love to cook. I’ve missed it these past few weeks while I’ve been traveling. I was so happy to see the blueberries in your refrigerator this morning.”

“No accident there. I have to admit I had high hopes for those berries this morning.”

“They’re not bad for out of season.” Carly popped one into her mouth before pouring a measured amount of batter into the hot frying pan. “And I love using this old cast-iron pan to make them in.” She paused for a moment. “Remember when your parents’ cook taught us how to make these in sixth grade?”

“I remember she taught you how to make them. It all went right over my head. I wasn’t much interested in cooking back then.”

“And now?”

“Now I wish I’d paid more attention because a cook did not come with this house. Though a lot of
what my parents’ cook taught me is slowly coming back.”

“Cooking is easy,” Carly told her. “All you have to do is read and follow the directions.”

“I’m learning. I can now honestly say I know how to make something other than reservations.”

“You can make dinner tonight.”

“I’d planned on it. I found a recipe for chicken that uses red Thai curry paste and chickpeas that looks interesting.”

“Have you made it before?”

Ellie shook her head.

“You know you’re not supposed to try out a new dish on company, right?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Left it in London.”

“And since when have you been company?”

“Good point.”

Carly lifted out the first of the pancakes and stacked them on a plate. “What time do we have to get to this … what is it?”

“First Families Day.” Ellie twisted around so she could see the clock on the stove, which she’d found to be forty-three minutes slow. “Everyone said we need to be there by eleven if we want to hear the speeches and see the reenactment of whatever it is they’re doing this year.”

“No one said what they’re doing?”

Ellie shrugged. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.”

“And who’s ‘everyone’ who said to be early?”

“Just some people I met from town.” The coffeepot finished percolating and Ellie rose to fill their mugs.

“Cameron the contractor?”

“Among others.”

“So maybe I’ll get to see this guy?” Carly wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Ellie shrugged as if the prospect of running into him hadn’t occurred to her. “He mentioned that he’d be there.”

“Well, then. I suppose I should speed up this production.” Carly flipped a pancake onto the waiting plate. “I’d hate to miss an opportunity to meet him.”

“We’re going to take Dune with us.” Ellie changed the subject. “Maybe her owner will be there.”

“And if he or she isn’t?”

“Then we’ll bring her back and wait to hear from the police. I keep meaning to call the vet here in town to see if he recognizes the description of the dog, or if he’s gotten a call from anyone reporting her missing, but I keep forgetting.” Ellie watched the dog, which at that moment was standing on her hind legs and sniffing the air. “She’s thinking I should have bought bacon to go with those pancakes.”

“She’s right. But who needs the calories and the fat? I’d rather save up for more ice cream from that shop where you got last night’s entry for best ice cream ever.” Carly sighed and put several more pancakes on the plate. “It was certainly the best I ever had.”

“I’ve had the apple cinnamon raisin and it was phenomenal.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to stop there after the festivities.”

“An excellent idea. The weather forecast has promised us an unseasonably warm day.”

“Great.” Carly put the last pancake on the plate and brought it to the table along with the maple syrup that Ellie had heated.

Ellie poured more coffee and the two women sat and ate for a moment in silence.

“Delicious,” Ellie finally said.

“If I do say so myself,” Carly agreed. “You know, I’m almost tempted to stay here and spend the day going from painting to painting and just staring. I’m black-and-blue from pinching myself.”

“Maybe when we get back, we should look in the attic and see if there’s—”

Carly stood up and looked as if she were ready to bolt from the kitchen.

“Down, girl. I don’t know that there are any more in the house.”

“Can we go look now?”

Ellie glanced at the clock. “We need to leave here before eleven. How ’bout if we save the attic for later?”

Carly groaned.

“It’s always good to have something to look forward to, don’t you think?” Ellie grinned and helped herself to another pancake.

“The suspense may kill me.”

“Doubt it.”

“Do you think there are any paintings up there?”

“I saw some landscapes and a couple of portraits when I was up there last week, but I didn’t check the signatures.”

“Carolina Ellis didn’t paint portraits,” Carly said, “and she isn’t known for landscapes, just seascapes and beachy paintings.”

“The ones that are up there are probably nothing, then.”

“We should still check,” Carly told her.

“And we will. Later. Right now we’re going to get dressed and go to the First Families Day whoop-de-do.” Ellie drained her coffee mug. “I doubt it’ll last more than an hour. It’s a small town. How long could it take for a couple of speeches, and I doubt there’s much to reenact.”

Cam rechecked the contents of his gym bag before closing it. The last thing he wanted to do today was to get into town and find he was missing some vital part of his costume for today’s reenactment. He tucked his hat under his arm and headed into the kitchen, where he washed down half a bowl of soggy cold cereal with the remaining mouthful of coffee in his mug. He’d been looking forward to this day since the idea for this year’s reenactment was first proposed by Clay Madison, and he didn’t want to be late.

He left his breakfast dishes in the sink and headed out to his pickup, his gym bag in one hand and his hat in the other. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to play dress-up games with his friends. Last year he’d been laid up with a broken foot—dropped a table saw and didn’t get out of the way quickly enough—and he’d missed out on the reenactment of the War of 1812. The other guys got to shell the harbor with a fake cannon that was mounted on the bow of Hal Garrity’s cruiser. He’d had to watch from the dock while his buddies got to send those blasts
of smoke out over the Bay. This year, he planned on being right in the middle of the action. They’d gotten the okay to use the cannon again, so that was cool. Any day a guy got to blow things up—even for pretend—was bound to be a good day.

He drove into town with a smile on his face, thinking about the role he’d be playing. Heh. Good times for sure.

Even the weather was cooperating. It was another sunny and warm November day, a day when a sweater was more appropriate than a jacket.

He drove along Charles Street, Clapton’s latest blues CD blaring and the windows down to coax in the sea air. He was tapping his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel when the two cars up ahead stopped while a very sexy silver Porsche attempted to parallel-park in what appeared to be the last spot on the street.

Sweet wheels. Very sweet. He watched as the driver struggled to fit the car into the minuscule spot. The passenger finally got out and tried to direct the driver. It took Cam only a second to recognize the woman on the sidewalk giving directions. Traffic being backed up, he sat back and just enjoyed the view.

Ellie Ryder was one good-looking woman. She was wearing dark jeans and a gray pullover, the same big round dark glasses she wore the first time he saw her, and her hair was in a ponytail that had been pulled through the back of a red baseball cap.

Traffic started moving once the sports car was tucked into the parking spot. Cam tried but couldn’t see inside the Porsche as he drove past. Must be the “friend” she had visiting for the weekend. He wondered
who the lucky guy was who had not only the car Cam lusted after but the girl who’d caught his eye. Probably someone she knew before she moved here. Maybe someone from the city who wore a suit all day and rode a desk. He felt his mouth melt into a frown.

Damn.

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he recognized, and even if it was, he’d never admit to envying a guy over a car. The girl, on the other hand—that was something else.

He kept driving, and allowed himself one glance in the rearview mirror but was too far away at that point to see Ellie or her friend.

He had a moment or two to decide whether this friend of Ellie’s was going to result in a change of his plans.

Nah. He’d go with the script, and her friend was just going to have to live with it.

The entrance to Old St. Mary’s Church Road was blocked off with orange caution cones, so Cam slowed and rolled down his window.

“I’m one of the reenactors,” he called to Susan Alcott, the police officer who was directing traffic away from the street.

“So I heard,” she called back, and motioned for one of the men on the side of the street to remove the cones so that Cam could pass by. “Have fun.”

“I’m planning on it.” Cam waved a salute to her and to the officer who’d moved the cones and proceeded to the parking lot behind the library, where he left the pickup. The bells in the tower at the Episcopal church down the street chimed eleven. He had plenty
of time to stroll through the crowd and see who was where. It would make everything easier later on.

There was a microphone in a stand on the front steps of the library, and to the left, a patch of lawn set off by rope tied from one sawhorse to another to form a square.

At one of the front corners, Clay Madison stood talking with Grace, his future mother-in-law, and Wade MacGregor.

“Are you the masterminds who constructed this?” Cam pointed to the square. “It looks like something you’d herd cattle into.”

“Hey, if you think you can do better, you can be our guest.” Wade crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I didn’t see you here early this morning trying to figure out how to make this thing work,” Clay said. “It’s as historically correct as we could make it.”

“It just looks dumb.” Cam shrugged his shoulders.

“Not much to argue about there,” Clay agreed. “But it’s for charity, so let’s just ignore how crappy the thing looks.”

The three men walked through the gathering crowd and made their way across the square to the far corner where Jesse Enright’s law office stood.

“You got your stuff?” Wade asked.

Cam held up his duffel bag. “Where’s yours?”

“Dropped it off early.” Wade pointed to Jesse’s office. “You might as well hang on to yours now since we’ll be going in to change soon enough.”

“We’ve got time.” Cam scanned the group gathered on Enright’s lawn.

“Looking for anyone in particular?” Clay asked.

“Maybe,” Cam replied.

“They’re all over there by the oak. Stef, Brooke, Lucy …” Wade pointed to a large tree that had yet to shed all its leaves. “Steffie wanted to be in the shade during the speeches in case they lasted too long so she wouldn’t get too hot standing in the sun.”

“Steffie just didn’t want to be so close to the speakers that she couldn’t gossip with her friends. I’m betting she couldn’t care less about hearing the First Families Day speeches again.” Clay added, “Let’s face it, we’ve all heard the same thing a hundred times.”

“Which is why the reenactments are important,” Cam told them as they joined the women under the tree. “It’s the only good part of the day.”

“You guys are all just grown-up little boys.” Brooke turned at their approach.

“You’re right.” Her brother nodded. “And boys just want to have fun.”

Steffie rolled her eyes. “Just don’t make such a fuss that you scare Poppy. Vanessa just took her inside to change her but she’ll be back before the festivities start.” Her eyes narrowed. “You make that baby cry and you will all answer to me.”

“I’m shaking,” Clay deadpanned. He turned to Cam. “You?”

“Absolutely. Wade?”

“Leave me out of this. I’m married to her.” He gestured with his head in Steffie’s direction. “We’ll have to be quiet when we … well, you guys know what I mean, right?”