Wandering Heart (9781101561362) (2 page)

Claire looked up at Liza. “I guess Frank is jogging down to the harbor, too.”

Liza knew she was talking about the shop owner, Frank Krueger. In a small town like Cape Light, you knew everyone. Of course, he might be out buying coffee or doing an errand. He wasn’t necessarily chasing Charlie Bates down the street to see what was going on in the park. But for some reason, Liza felt he must be.

“Now I’m curious. Let’s find out what’s going on down there.”

“I’m curious, too,” Claire admitted. “I recall a morning like this years ago, when everyone in town was racing down to the dock. Turned out an amateur fisherman had reeled in a huge shark. It must have been twenty feet long and weighed five-hundred pounds. Its teeth as big as … as lemons. It was quite a sight.” Claire nodded as they picked up speed.

Liza glanced at her friend but didn’t answer. She guessed the shark had stretched a bit over the years, starting out as ten or even fifteen feet long. Though Claire rarely exaggerated, she had to be given some leeway for a bona fide shark story.

The women soon reached the green and could see the dock and harbor. An elated fisherman with a prize catch were nowhere in sight. But there was definitely something unusual happening. A large crowd had gathered and stood milling about around the harbor.

The parking lot on the harbor side was filled with several long white trailers and a few big-box trucks and vans. A good portion of
the village green and dock were blocked by wooden barriers and yellow tape. Even the local police force had been dispatched to keep order in the crowd. Liza noticed Office Tucker Tulley strolling around, making sure that no one crossed the barrier. She also noticed a reporter from the
Cape Light Messenger
wandering through the crowd with her camera, interviewing the locals and jotting down replies on her notepad.

Whatever was going on was definitely newsworthy.

It was a movie set, Liza realized, with a large crew, big lights on metal tripods, miles of long black cables, and camera equipment on rolling machinery. People wearing headsets scurried in all directions. They looked stressed and distracted, Liza thought, as if the work they were doing was extremely important.

Claire stopped in her tracks as they stood across from the green. “For goodness’ sake, it’s a movie. I read about this in the newspaper a few weeks ago. But I didn’t pay much attention to the details.”

Liza was not surprised. Claire was not the kind of person to be awed by that sort of news. She was more likely to just turn the page and look for the gardening column.

“I read about it, too,” Liza realized. “I think it’s some sort of romance movie. Charlotte Miller is in it. And Nick Dempsey.” She glanced around at the crowd again. “I get it now. I’d knock a few people over to get a good look at him.”

“He is a good actor,” Claire agreed. “And Charlotte Miller is very charming. I always enjoy her films. I wonder what she’s like in person. She seems so sweet and down to earth in the roles she plays.”

“Movie stars are probably very different in real life, don’t you think?” Liza mused. “They have so many people rushing around to do their bidding. It would spoil anyone.”

“I think it must be difficult to be famous. So much pressure and attention. I wouldn’t like it at all.”

“I’d try it for a few weeks, see how it goes. There must be a few perks,” Liza said with a laugh. “The shopping sprees might be fun. And the travel. And the designer gowns.”

But none of that was to Claire’s taste, she knew. Liza often wondered if Claire had ever gone much farther ashore than Cape Light. She seemed so rooted to the area, as if she were as much a part of Angel Island as the windblown oaks beside the inn.

They stood at the back of the crowd, trying to see what was going on. Or spot a movie star. But the area set off for filming seemed empty and inactive, and there were no famous faces in sight. Liza did recognize Lucy Bates, Charlie’s wife, standing nearby and tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, Liza, Claire.” Lucy smiled at them then shook her head at all the activity. “A real Hollywood film crew, right here in Cape Light. Can you believe it?” Before Liza could answer, Lucy said, “I saw Charlotte Miller, just for a few seconds. She is so pretty. She came out of a limo and scurried right into her trailer. She had on big sunglasses and a baseball hat. But I knew it was her.” Lucy sounded triumphant. “Charlie’s over there. He’s looking for the producer. He’s going to try to persuade them to film a scene in the diner. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“It would be,” Claire agreed dryly.

Liza knew that Claire did not think much of the Clam Box, especially the cuisine served there, which was cooked by Charlie. Claire was an outstanding cook and baker. She was very modest about her talents but did have high standards.

“So all of these people are just standing around, waiting for something to happen?” Claire asked in her direct way.

Lucy nodded happily. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Liza glanced at Claire. She could tell Claire’s feelings were similar to her own. It was fun to have a movie crew in town, but they had a lot to do today. They couldn’t wait around for celebrities to pop out of their hiding places for a moment or two, like very glamorous whack-a-moles.

Claire glanced at her watch. “Liza, I think we’d better get moving. We have a few stops to make.”

“Yes, we do. You have fun, Lucy. I hope you get to see the movie stars.”

“I’ll let you know,” Lucy promised. She waved as Liza and Claire walked away, heading back to the shops on Main Street.

They were walking against the tide now. The word had spread, and a parade of people were marching down to the park to watch the film crew, leaving stores and offices empty all over town. Liza even spotted the town’s mayor, Emily Warwick, and Reverend Ben Lewis, the minister of the old stone church that stood on the other side of the green. Everyone in town was starstruck. Liza and Claire had to shoulder their way out of the crowd.

When they finally stood across the street, clear of the gathering, Claire seemed a little breathless. She pushed a few stray strands of hair back into her bun. “Well, that was an experience. If I’d known this was going on today, I would have postponed our shopping.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s fun to be part of the excitement. Even for a few minutes. Even if we didn’t get to see Nick Dempsey.”

Liza and Claire found most of the stores they visited empty, which made it easy to fly through their list in nearly half the time. They carried everything to Liza’s SUV and headed back to Angel Island.

It had been fun to see the movie set but Liza was relieved to get
back to the island, to the open vistas and serenity. No milling crowds or humming movie machinery. The island was a step beyond the movie madness, and she was sure it would stay that way.

With the tide low, she didn’t anticipate any problem crossing the long, thin land bridge that connected the mainland with the island. The road had been covered by water and was impassable several times over the summer, when heavy rains had combined with a high tide. It was one of the drawbacks of living on the island though, to her mind, there were so many wonderful aspects to living out there, she hardly noticed a washed-out road or two.

Liza reached the land bridge a short time later. The gate was up, signaling that it was safe to cross. The water on either side was dark blue, dotted with whitecaps. The sky was still hazy, promising more rain.

She steered her SUV onto the two-lane bridge, which had a rail and paved shoulder on each side, edged by large gray boulders. The road was newly paved but narrow, and she drove the black ribbon of highway carefully. From the middle of the bridge, she could see the coastline curving around to Cape Light’s harbor and the low mass of buildings on Main Street.

From time to time, building a real bridge to the island was proposed. When Liza had first returned to Angel Island, five months earlier, she would have been all for that idea. But now that she was an official year-round resident, she valued the island’s privacy and liked the idea that it was a bit challenging to reach.

The Inn at Angel Island was not far from the bridge, a short drive along one of the island’s two main roads, the one that followed the western coastline.

Suddenly on the right side of the road, the inn came into view. Liza stopped for a moment as she often did before pulling up the
drive. She liked to try to see the inn as if for the first time, as a stranger might see it. This was difficult, if not impossible, considering she had known the place since she was a little girl, coming here to spend summers with her aunt and uncle.

She had always loved this house, three stories high with matching bay windows on the first and second floors. The windows on the second floor were fronted by a balcony and there was even a turret on the right side of the building. When Liza was a little girl and had heard the extravagant Victorian referred to as Queen Anne style, she had instantly known the term was perfect for the house. It was definitely a place worthy of royalty, something right out of a fairy tale.

Set on a large piece of property that sloped toward the road, the house faced the bluffs and the expanse of ocean that stretched out below. The wraparound porch was filled with sitting chairs—Adirondack, wicker, and straight-back rockers—where guests sat and enjoyed the view, sipping glasses of homemade lemonade and iced tea. Just as it had been in her aunt’s day.

Liza had made many repairs and improvements since she’d taken over the place last spring, but she tried hard to maintain the integrity of the place so that guests who had visited years ago would still feel comfortable and familiar with the place—the same, only better.

A walkway bordered by summer flowers led up to the porch. A sign swung from a post along the way: A
NGEL
I
NN
—A
LL
A
RE
W
ELCOME
. Her aunt Elizabeth had painted and hand-lettered that sign with a scroll of vines and flowers on the border. Liza had restored it herself to its former glory. Below that plaque hung another that now read,
VACANCY
.

There had been so much bad weather this past month. Liza tried to stay positive, believing the rooms would fill up again for the last few weeks of the summer season.

She turned up the drive and spotted Daniel Merritt’s pickup truck parked near the back door, then saw him up on a ladder, leaning against the inn. He was working on one of the window shutters that had come down during the last storm.

Was he supposed to be working here today? She would have remembered. Liza took a quick glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Large blue eyes peered back at her. She looked pale and sticky, her long dark hair an outrageous mess of curls. And she really needed some lipstick.

“Oh, Daniel’s here,” Claire said happily. “I wonder if he’s had any lunch.”

“As if that has ever stopped him from eating your cooking, Claire.”

“It has nothing to do with that. He has a healthy appetite. He works very hard,” Claire quickly defended him, though she did seem pleased by Liza’s compliment.

Daniel Merritt did work hard, and Liza was grateful to him. She had more or less inherited Daniel—a carpenter, painter, roofer, and all around fix-it man—with the property. She was sure that if not for his persistent care, the place would not be standing. She sometimes wondered if she would be herself, if not for his support and encouragement.

Liza was always happy to find Daniel here. She hadn’t expected to see him until Wednesday night. They had planned to go up to Newburyport for dinner and a movie. They were officially a couple now; at least that’s what everyone on the island said. Though their courtship had hit a few bumps along the way.

But Daniel’s life was still unsettled, and Liza tried not to look too far into the future or make too many demands. She simply loved
being around him, which was enough for now. Even if he made surprise visits when she looked like a complete mess.

Claire waved up at Daniel and carried her purchases to the inn, going in through the front door.

Liza walked back to the ladder. “Hey, up there. Want some lunch?”

He came down a few steps and kissed her hello. “Sounds good. I’ll be done in a minute. Did you pick up the shutters at the hardware store?”

“I tried, but the store was closed.”

“In the middle of a Monday? That’s funny. I hope Frank isn’t sick or anything.”

“There was a note. It just said, ‘Be Back in Fifteen Minutes.’ We’re pretty sure where he went. There’s a movie crew in town filming at the harbor. Claire and I saw a huge crowd down there, mostly just waiting for something to happen. Or one of the movie stars to come out of a trailer.”

“A movie crew? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Daniel jumped down from the ladder and smoothed out his paint-spattered T-shirt. “I always wanted to be in a movie … you know, one of those guys you see walking in the background, looking very busy and in a rush to get somewhere?” He faked a serious expression and glanced at his watch.

With his tall, strong build, dark hair, and eyes to match, Daniel was just as attractive as any movie star Liza had ever seen. Including Nick Dempsey. She laughed and rested her hand on his broad shoulder. “I’m pretty sure they have enough candidates trying out to be one of ‘those guys.’ Besides, I think Claire is serving chowder for lunch today.”

Daniel grinned at the mention of one of his favorite dishes. “Hollywood will have to wait. I’ll have some lunch and think about it.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” Liza slipped her arm through his, and they walked around the house to the brick patio that was covered by a lattice filled with thick wisteria.

Claire had already put out three place settings on a blue-and-white-checkered cloth. There were tall glasses of iced tea and a basket of warm cornbread squares, covered by a cloth napkin. Liza went into the kitchen to see if Claire needed any help and Daniel followed, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.

Together they carried out the rest of the lunch: a bowl of salad made with fresh lettuce and tomatoes from Claire’s garden, and half a peach and blueberry crumble left over from the weekend. Last but not least, Claire carried out the chowder pot and ladle.