A Dream Weekend: A Tale From Blythe Cove Manor (3 page)

“I do love kimmels,” Paige admitted, referring to the caraway seeds on the buns.

“Then please give me a second chance.”

Alex had the prettiest blue eyes. “Well, okay,” she said.

His smile widened.

“
P
aige
? Wake up, Paige.”

Alex watched as his wife opened her eyes, blinking to focus on the heavy cotton golf shirt before her. Her gaze tilted upward to take in his face.

“You’ve slept for almost three hours. It’s getting late. If we want to get some dinner, we need to get going.”

Paige sat up and swung her legs off the bed. “What time is it?” she asked and rubbed her eyes.

“Just past seven. I would have woken you sooner, but I fell asleep, too.”

Paige’s stomach rumbled.

“See, you’re as hungry as I am. I’m sure Ms. Calvert can give us a recommendation. How about seafood?”

“I guess.” Still, she didn’t seem in a hurry to get going.

Alex offered her his hand.

She looked at it for a long time before she raised her own and let him pull her to her feet. They stood together, too close, just staring at one another for a long moment, and Alex fought the urge to kiss her. He’d tried on other occasions and she’d turned from him. She didn’t want comfort—she wanted to blame him for everything that had gone wrong. Still….

The moment passed and Paige dodged around him, heading for her suitcase. “My clothes are rumpled. I’d better change.”

“You look fine. Just as pretty as the day we met.”

Paige whirled around. “What did you say?”

Alex shrugged. “That you look as pretty as the day we met.”

Paige just stood there, staring at him, her expression incredulous.

“What?” he asked at last, puzzled.

She shook her head and turned back for the suitcase. “Let me get my sweater, fix my face, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Alex watched as Paige headed for the bathroom and shut the door, then stared long afterward. Why had she looked at him so quizzically? Because he’d mentioned the first time they’d met? Funny, he hadn’t thought of that day for a long, long time. The truth was he’d suppressed far too many such thoughts during the past fifteen months. Perhaps if he hadn’t, things might be different between them.

He shrugged, turning away. They just had to get through the weekend. And who knew…maybe one day they might actually be more than just civil to one another.

T
he lights were
ablaze inside Blythe Cove Manor when they returned and Alex pulled the van to a halt in front of the inviting entrance. Not exactly like a Thomas Kinkade painting, but just as inviting. Alex cut the engine and Paige turned back to face him.

“Dinner was nice,” she said. “I haven’t had lobster in years.”

“Me, either.” He shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips. “For a lot of years, we couldn’t
afford
lobster.”

Paige caught herself before she, too, smiled, by averting her gaze. Suddenly it felt awkward to be together … sort of like a couple who’d gone out on a first date. In fact, that was how the evening had gone. A stroll down the street to the restaurant—although they didn’t hold hands—and then they’d been seated by a window that overlooked the sea. They’d watched the sky darken and the clouds take on a lovely peach-colored huge before the sea engulfed the last light of day and the moon shone on the rippling water. And their conversation had been light, not tense like it had been for more than a year. She didn’t want to think about those dark times.

“I guess we should go in. Didn’t Blythe say something about sherry?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Why don’t you park the car and I’ll look for it and pour us a couple of glasses.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Paige nodded and got out of the car, while Alex restarted the engine. She paused for a moment to listen to the tires crunch the gravel before entering the lobby. The reception desk was empty, with no sign of the other guests or their hostess, but as promised a decorative crystal carafe of sherry and two delicately etched glasses stood on a silver tray, as though awaiting them.

Paige settled onto the big leather couch, uncapped the bottle and poured. She’d just finished the task when Alex arrived. He took off his light jacket before taking the chair to her right. A flash of disappointment coursed through her. For a moment she’d thought he might actually perch next to her, but then he was probably afraid to do so—in case his actions spoiled the unspoken truce they seemed to have called.

Paige picked up her glass. It felt like she should offer a toast, but she didn’t want to do that and hoped Alex would resist the temptation as well.

He did, picking up his glass and taking a sip. “Not bad.” He studied his glass.

Paige sank further back into the couch and sipped her sherry. Maybe she
should
have offered a toast. And what would it have been? To happier times?

Suddenly Alex hoisted his glass, looking straight for her. “To happier times.”

Paige blinked. “What did you say?”

“To happier times. For both of us.” He scrutinized her face. “Why do you have such an odd expression?”

Paige shook her head, rather disconcerted. “It’s just that … I was thinking the same thing.” She just hadn’t been about to voice it.

Alex shrugged. “It’s nice to know we still have the same mindset on
something
.”

Paige bit her lip to keep from commenting. She didn’t want to spoil what had been the most pleasant evening she’d had in a very long time. And yet, at the same time, she wondered why. Earlier in the day she’d made up her mind to end the terrible existence that had been her life, but now doubt began to creep in.

Paige looked over at her husband. When they married, she thought it was forever. Her forever, however, would come to an end at fifteen years. Alex smiled. True, it bore little resemblance to his smiles of the past—perhaps more wistful—but it was a smile.

This time, Paige managed to give him the shadow of one in return.

A
lex was
the first to get ready for bed that night. He’d bought a guide to Martha’s Vineyard at the bookstore, and had made a considerable a dent in it when Paige finally changed into a nightgown and crawled into bed.

“I’ll turn the light off,” Alex said.

“You don’t have to,” she said diffidently. “It doesn’t bother me. I thought I might watch the fire until I feel drowsy enough to fall asleep.”

“It’s nice having a fireplace in the bedroom.” He wanted to say romantic, but he didn’t want to put a damper on what had been the best evening they’d shared in a very long time.

“I suppose it’ll be too warm for a fire in another week or so. I wonder what the inn looks like at Christmastime.”

We could visit and see
, Alex thought about saying, but decided against it. He was supposed to be signing a lease for one of the Windsor Complex’s apartments next week. They would have to talk about what to do with the house. He didn’t think Paige would want to live there all alone—not with all the memories they’d made there. The Christmases, birthdays, hot summer nights spent stargazing—while slapping mosquitoes—and all the other wonderful celebrations. It was a shame all those memories had to be shelved. And what would they do with all the furniture, bric-a-brac, and photographs? Splitting the photos would be the hardest. Then again, he could just scan them all and let her keep the prints. There always seemed to be a sanitary solution to most of their problems … if they cared to go to the trouble.

Alex set his book aside and switched off the bedside lamp. The gas flames from the fireplace threw leaping shadows around the walls.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Paige asked quietly.

“Yes. Very pretty.”

They didn’t say any more.

Alex watched the shadows for a while before closing his eyes, then instantly fell asleep.

A
woman’s
wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but as Paige’s wedding day approached everything seemed to go wrong. It started when the RSVP cards began to arrive.

Alex’s parents decided not to come due to a prior engagement. And what kind of engagement would keep you from your son’s wedding? They’d never forgiven him for changing his major, and not coming to the wedding was their way of punishing him.

Alex’s brother Ron, and his wife, Amy, and kids had vacation plans that couldn’t be changed. Funny, he hadn’t mentioned those plans when Alex had spoken to him six months before when the “save the date” cards had gone out.

Alex’s sister, Joanne, at least had a reasonable excuse. At eight months pregnant with her second child, her obstetrician had given her a “no travel” edict.

And Paige’s family had let her down as well. Her sister, Emily, had called to say her car had died and that she and her husband couldn’t afford to rent one to drive to Buffalo—nor could she find a friend willing to drive them.

So it was with a feeling of doom that Paige had donned her ivory tea-length wedding dress on that sultry summer morning. It was the “something old” part of the day, as she’d found it for a great price at a thrift shop along Buffalo’s Main Street. Something blue? A garter she’d bought. Something new? The floral headpiece and short veil she’d made herself.

As the hour for the nuptials approached, Paige grew more and more apprehensive as her best friend from childhood had not yet arrived.

“It’s okay, Paige,” her sister, Lisa, said, her voice a calming balm. “If worse comes to worst, I can stand in.”

“Oh, thank you,” Paige said, giving Lisa a hug.

When the organist struck the first few notes of Wagner’s Wedding March, Lisa grabbed the Maid of Honor’s bouquet and marched down the aisle as though she had been the bride’s first choice of attendant.

Alex stood at the end of the chapel’s aisle, but the man standing next to him was not the guy he had asked to stand up for him, but another buddy who hadn’t even worn a suit. Paige missed a step, wondering if this marriage had been cursed because so many of their friends and family were missing from the celebration.

But then she locked eyes with Alex, and took in the broad grin he sported. And she smiled, too. What did it matter if some of the invitees were absent? All that really counted was the fact that she loved Alex, and he loved her, and from that day forward they were to be as one.

Paige walked slowly, step-by-step, alone. She had no father or father figure to give her away. And it was with shyness that she paused before her betrothed. She handed Lisa her bouquet, and Alex gently took her hands in his, beaming; a smile that could have lit the continent. Then the two of them turned their gazes to the minister who stood a step higher than them.

“Paige and Alex, welcome to the beginning of your new life together.”

Paige couldn’t really process everything the minister said. She felt overwhelmed, but happier than she’d ever been. She was about to commit the rest of her life to the man who completed her, and felt sure that she, too, would complete him.

Lisa gave her sister a nudge, handing her a simple gold band.

The minister spoke. “Paige, place the ring on Alex’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring.”

Paige looked directly into Alex’s blue eyes. “With this ring.”

“I pledge my love and faithfulness to you.”

“I pledge my love and faithfulness to you.”

“Today, tomorrow and always.”

“Today, tomorrow and always.” Paige slipped the ring on Alex’s finger, giving him a shy smile.

The minister directed his attention to the groom. “Alex, place the ring on Paige’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring."

It was Alex’s turn to gaze into Paige’s eyes. “With this ring.”

“I pledge my love and faithfulness to you.”

“I pledge my love and faithfulness to you.”

“Today, tomorrow and always.”

“Today, tomorrow and always, always, always.”

The minister smiled. “Then by the powers vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Alex, you may kiss your bride.”

They leaned close and Alex brushed a gentle kiss against Paige’s lips. Then another—with more intensity and the promise of more to come.

Then the organist launched into Mendelssohn's Wedding March. Lisa handed Paige her bouquet and the happy couple charged up the aisle.

And it was, after all, the happiest day of Paige’s life….

So far.

B
reakfast at Blythe Cove Manor
was truly a delight—at least Blythe Calvert always thought so. She carefully planned her menus, baked sinful treats in her cream-colored Aga stove, and always tried to set a lovely table.

It was nearly nine and she was about to pack up the muffins, croissants, and strudel that sat on multi-tiered plates in her breakfast room, when the Campbells finally came down for their morning repast.

“Are we too late?” Mr. Campbell asked.

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that we slept so well last night. Better than we have in such a long time,” Mrs. Campbell practically gushed. She certainly looked better rested than she had when they’d arrived the previous day.

“I’m always glad to hear that,” Blythe said. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Take a seat wherever you’d like,” she said, and headed back to the kitchen to get the fresh pot. When she returned to the breakfast room, she found the Campbells had chosen the coveted table that overlooked the sea.

“Seems like we’re the last for breakfast.”

“It’s not a problem,” Blythe said as she poured the brew. “What are your plans for today?”

Mr. Campbell brandished a guide book. “We thought we might like to visit the Edgartown Lighthouse.”

“And maybe the cottages at Oak Bluff,” Mrs. Campbell said with what sounded like hope in her voice. Her eyes were still shadowed, and her voice tentative, but she seemed to have relaxed some in the eighteen-or-so hours since their arrival.