A Home by the Sea (15 page)

Grace was too dazed to talk, too filled with sadness and worry for her grandfather. To her right she saw the dark outline of the ocean. She seemed caught in a nightmare, just like the dream she had had earlier. Where was she supposed to go? Where was home?

She was glad that Jilly didn't try to cheer her up with empty optimism. They both knew it was bad, and they both knew it could get worse.

Grace studied Jilly's face in the dim light. “Why were you so angry about James? Why now?”

“Because he—” Jilly hesitated. “Because the last time I visited you he tried to talk me into bed. You were at an all-day cooking workshop. He kept saying he liked my energy and my laugh. Shmuck,” she hissed.

Grace just stared. “Your energy? What a lame pickup line.” She swallowed, digging her nails into the seat.

“Do you believe me?” Jilly's face was pale.

“Of course I do. You wouldn't make that up.” Grace stared out at the water. “At least now I know why you disliked him so much.” Strangely, this punch hurt less than the others. Grace was only sorry that Jilly had been involved in the ugly mess. “But why didn't you tell me?”

“I took the easy way out because I was afraid.” Jilly sighed. “I hated myself, but I couldn't take the chance that you would cut me off over it. I didn't want to lose you as a friend.”

What could Grace say?

All she did was reach over and squeeze Jilly's arm. “I wish you'd told me. I'm sorry you had to wait and worry about it all this time. But we're friends forever. Remember that,” Grace said fiercely.

They drove in silence. Grace finally dozed a little, lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean and the rhythm of the motor. She sat up with a start at the sound of a car door opening.

She recognized a tall building with an ornate Victorian front porch. The library. Around the darkened street was the town office building.

They walked around a corner, climbed a little rise overlooking the harbor, past a garden that would be full of roses in the summer. Jilly hooked her arm around Grace's. “Come on. There's something you need to see.”

The sea wind was sharp and familiar, a breath of home. Grace drank in the cold air, caught up in memories. She was anchored by the harbor, surrounded by the powerful force of family. She blinked as Jilly pulled her up a set of steps and then south along the pier, past a stone wall and a pair of intricately carved Chinese lions.

Jilly seemed tense and excited as she turned up a little cobblestone drive. Then she stopped, pointing straight ahead.

It was a tall building, three floors and an attic, with a steep gabled roof. A single lamp was lit in the big picture window on the first floor. “Harbor House?” Grace remembered this building. There had been a high-end gift shop here for several years and after that a wine store. Now there was nothing, and the building looked sadly derelict.

She frowned as Jilly fumbled in her pocket and pulled out keys. Hinges screeched as Jilly pushed open the door and motioned Grace inside.

“Why are we here? I don't understand.”

“You'll see.” Jilly pulled her inside. Caro ap
peared with dust on her cheeks and her hair wild on her shoulders. Gage was right behind her, carrying a broom and mop.

“What are you two doing here?”

They stopped, stunned to see Grace. Jilly rushed right past them, tugging Grace toward the room's only chair.

Grace's eyebrows rose at the peeling wallpaper and the scuffed wood floors. “What's going on?”

“Let's get a fire going,” Jilly said quickly. “I have some hot chocolate in the back. There's a Crock-Pot with chili.”

“We had some of it.” Caro looked worriedly at Grace. “I'll go get some. I think there's bread left, too.”

“I'll get it, honey. You stay here with Grace.” Gage disappeared through the back room.

Nothing made any sense to Grace. She looked from Jilly to Caro and then around her at the empty room. “Why are you all here? It's just an empty shop. There's not even any heat.”

“We're working on that,” Jilly said, pacing nervously. “At least the fireplace is functional.” She reached out, straightening a chintz curtain, the only decoration in the room. Then Jilly shrugged. “You tell her, Caro.”

Caro blew out a breath. “No, you.”

“Tell me what?” Grace demanded.

Jilly gave a low, reckless laugh. “We bought it.” Her voice was hoarse. “It's been for sale for a year.
They finally came down to rock bottom and we bought it.”

Jilly crossed her arms, staring around the room. She was silent for long moments. Her head turned as she imagined chairs and tables, rugs and curtains and paintings of the harbor. She cleared her throat.

“It's going to be a yarn store, Grace. Caro has it all planned. I'm going to make a café on the other side. We're calling it the Harbor House Yarn Café.” She moved to stand next to Caro. Both of them were looking at Grace, half guilty, half defiant.

“Here?” Grace looked around her, forcing her thoughts away from her worries about her grandfather. “There's never been a yarn shop on Summer Island. Never a good pastry or coffee shop, either. Everyone drives over to the mainland. It's a ridiculous risk. But…”

“But what?” Jilly said hoarsely.

“On the other hand your espresso chocolate muffins could make a stone weep.” She nodded slowly. “It might actually work.”

Jilly turned to give Caro a high-five, then put her hands on her hips. “So here it is. If you're staying, we want you to be part of it with us. Sure it's a risk, and I know the timing is rotten, but what do you say, Grace? Are you in?”

“Y
OU'RE…CRAZY
.”

There was dust everywhere. A broken wooden chair leaned against the far wall, one leg in fragments. A painting hung next to the front window, tattered and water stained.

Grace sneezed. “This place is a nightmare.”

Jilly raced past her, waving her hands in excitement. “That's why we got it so cheap. Because it
was
a nightmare. But the space is good and the structure is sound, and you can't beat its access to the water. Think about all that lovely tourist traffic in the summer.”

“The summer is five months away,” Grace said drily.

“And it will take all of five months to get this place cleaned up and decked out. I have a friend coming in tomorrow to give me an estimate on a new wooden floor. Then we're going to scrape the walls and put up new wallpaper. Something wonderful and atmospheric, a vintage print with flowers and birds. I see sage-green with nice little pops of rose-red.”

“I see mildew and serious repair costs,” Grace murmured.

“There's no mold and the foundation is excellent.” Jilly moved on, her fingers trailing lovingly over the faded walls. She wasn't seeing the dirt and the mess. She was five months in the future, seeing new lights, fresh wallpaper and tourists who couldn't wait to spend their money on expensive pastries and luscious yarn.

Grace looked over her shoulder, back into the shadows where Gage had vanished. “What about the kitchen? This building is at least eighty years old. What about wiring?” She stood up slowly, shoved her hair out of her face and started toward the back.

Jilly blocked her way, looking uncomfortable. “You're right, it's old. I don't think you should go back there right now.”

Grace snorted. “That bad, is it? Well, you wanted to pick my brain. This is what I do, so you'd better step aside and let me deliver the bad news.”

After a moment Jilly sighed and turned, letting Grace walk into the dim kitchen. The walls were chipped, but not as bad as the public rooms. The counters sagged, but the wood was heavy and the bad spots could be replaced. There was only one small window at the back of the kitchen, so there would be little natural light. Grace looked up to the ceiling. An ugly fluorescent fixture hung from an old, rusted industrial bracket.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you nuts? This place
wouldn't pass a building code in Botswana. Not without about a year's work.” Frowning, she made rough calculations, assessing the customer volume, food preparation speed, and what kind of equipment would be required. Since cooking school she had supplemented her income with restaurant start-up work, but she had never expected to crunch numbers for her own business.

It was more exciting than she had expected. More frightening, too.

“You have a contractor?”

Jilly nodded.

Grace did a few more calculations.

“You're going to need a commercial dishwasher. Something with good Energy Star compliance. You can save over a thousand dollars a year on electricity and water usage. You won't have that much volume, so you don't need anything huge. A nice walk-in refrigerator, too. I can get you a deal on that in Portland,” Grace mused. “Over in this corner a high-efficiency pre-rinse spray valve to speed up your dishwashing process. That makes a huge bump in your water energy savings.” She turned around, saw Caro, Jilly and now Gage staring at her.

“Well, what did you want me to say? It's not all organic produce and dreamy spices. What goes on back here sets the pace for everything else. You can't throw away money on energy, and you sure as heck don't want a customer getting sick because your dishwasher isn't heating at the right temperature.”

Jilly burst out laughing. She slid one arm around Caro's shoulders and the other around Gage. “I told you,” she said hoarsely, trying to stifle another laugh. “I told you she'd be grumpy and she'd complain. She'd find a thousand things that were wrong. But then she'd be hooked. You couldn't keep her out of this if you wanted to.”

Grace looked at the three of them, saw them grinning back at her. “Oh, you said that, did you, Jilly? You knew exactly what I'd say, certain that I'd be enthusiastic.” She blew a curve of hair out of her face and stared critically at the room, taking in the grimy window, the pitted wooden counters and the peeling walls. Yet even through the grime and old paint she sensed the bones of a lost beauty.

She shook her head. “It's a wreck. It will take weeks just to bring your kitchen wiring up to code, and that big front porch looks like it could collapse any minute.”

But what a lovely place for knitters to sit and relax, comparing the yarns they had purchased inside…or for tables where tourists could enjoy lunch and savor the curve of the harbor and whales passing off the coast.

She crossed her arms. “The harbor view is amazing. There will be roses everywhere, spilling from the garden next door. We could put in a flagstone patio for more tables—”

We?

Why was she thinking in terms of
we?
The risk
was terrible. The amount of work required was daunting. And yet…

Grace realized this could be the answer she needed.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “So when do we get started?”

 

T
HEY PUSHED THEIR CHAIRS
together in the front room near the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and arguing over appliance costs and opening menus. Jilly had a flare for creative organic produce and mixing unusual tastes, Grace couldn't deny it. Some of her recipes were drop-dead brilliant.

But there were a thousand details that would have to be taken care of before that first plate of pastry was set down in front of the café's first customer. And that was where Grace shone. She outlined a plan, making notes of suppliers and architects. She sketched out what would be required for building code approval and food safety inspections.

When she was done she leaned back, smiling. “I have to hand it to you, you can't beat the location. Jilly, you're right. In summer this strip of waterfront is always thronged, and the only other place to eat is the diner on the far side of the harbor. If you do this right, you could rake in money. The yarn shop idea is brilliant though it may have to be small at first. How about including a few other crafts, too, just to gauge the traffic and see what kind of things people want? And classes, too. It wouldn't hurt to have samples
knitted up on display, available for sale. Not everyone can knit, as you know.”

Caro nodded in excitement. “I thought about open craft nights and inviting some celebrity pattern designers. They did that when I was in Chicago and it was a huge draw. We're not that far from Portland, and I could call some yarn stores there to schedule visiting teachers to come out here.”

“Good idea.” Grace tapped the end of her pencil on the wobbly table that she was using to write on. “How much did they want for the building?” she asked abruptly.

Jilly named a figure that left Grace breathless. “Don't look that way. Sally and I are going in together. Caro and Gage have a partial share now. They'll come in fully later, once Caro's had the baby and can go back to work here.”

“How much do you need from me?”

Jilly gave another number, smaller but still enough to make Grace blink. It would take up all her savings, almost every penny. But what was life for if it wasn't to put your body and soul into realizing a dream?

She sat back and crossed her arms, determined to be blunt. “You need to understand that my future is a big muddle now. My grandfather could get better—or he could get worse. Whatever happens, he's going to come first. I have to take care of the animal shelter, too. I can't give up on his dream, not when he's kept it alive for so many years.”

“We know all that,” Jilly said. “We'd never expect you to.”

“There's something else. I think he's been pulling from his private savings,” Grace said quietly. She managed a weak smile as Caro gave a little gasp. “I don't know how much is left. There may be nothing at all. I know that every cost, from food to heating and medical supplies has gone up. Whenever I asked him about it, he brushed off the question and laughed, telling me that he had made plans and everything would be fine. Now I wonder.”

She felt a sudden, sick pang of fear. Her life was changing too fast, throwing new responsibilities and commitments into her path. She prayed that she was smart enough and determined enough to do the right thing.

She looked down at the wobbly table, at the hasty sketches with numbers and drawings of building layout and equipment placement. She took a deep breath and put one hand over Caro's and her other hand over Jilly's. She squeezed hard.

And knew she was doing the right thing.

“Whatever happens, I'm in. I may not have much time. My earnings may have to go to the animal shelter at first. But…I'm in.”

Jilly laughed, leaning over to give her a quick hug. Caro smiled and then turned to give Gage a kiss. Grace shook her head. “We all may need our heads examined before this is over, I warn you. There's a reason that sixty to as many as ninety per
cent of all new restaurants fail.” She knew the numbers by heart. She had seen other friends fail despite good planning and solid financial backing.

Grace couldn't bear to see her closest friends on that casualty list.

She glanced at her watch and thought about going back to the hospital to be with her grandfather. But Jilly was right. He would be medicated now. He needed rest as much as she needed downtime.

She yawned and glanced around the room. Jilly had a hot plate on the kitchen counter, and she was heating water for more hot chocolate. Gage had bought a box of doughnuts and Caro had made sandwiches to go with the chili that was left. The odd thing was, despite the dust and the dilapidated conditions, the room already felt like home. Being here felt just like growing up, when Grace had been surrounded by her strong and stubborn friends. They had stood together, laughed together, watched each other's backs and cheered on their quiet dreams and secret hopes.

Somehow they had fallen back into the same pattern.

Grace sighed. There was one place she would always be safe, and that was here on Summer Island, surrounded by her friends.

Yes,
she thought,
this could actually work.

She could restore her dreams here, just as this grand house, once a place of legendary beauty, could
be restored to its full glory, magnificent at dawn in fog and radiant at sunset.

 

O
VER THE NEXT DAYS
the three women argued and planned with much appreciated suggestions from Gage. The planning helped to take Grace's mind off the constant worries about her grandfather.

As they stood in the kitchen, surrounded by newly scrubbed and shining floors, Grace had a sharp image of laughter and voices and sunshine streaming through the open back door. She took a quick breath, wanting to believe it was their future.

She felt Jilly drape an arm across her shoulders. “I don't know about you, but I'm whipped. Let's get a cup of tea and call it a night. You two have done way too much again.” Jilly pointed at Gage and Caro. “Go home. Relax. Sleep late. I don't want to see you until dinnertime tomorrow. I'm trying a new recipe for grilled chipotle mango salmon. Chocolate éclairs for dessert.”

Caro groaned. “Éclairs? That's evil. You know I can't have them. I've gained seven pounds in two weeks and my doctor wants me to be careful.”

“One bite won't hurt.” Jilly grinned at Gage. “Your husband can finish off the rest. Now go
home,
” she ordered with a smile that took away the sting.

Caro wrinkled her nose. “Big bully. Just like in fourth grade.” Caro turned with a laugh and she and Jilly bumped hips. “This place is starting to look
good. Tomorrow a yarn rep is coming to set up a credit line and show us samples for new stock.” She giggled. “Can you
believe
it? A private yarn showing?”

As she looked across the room Grace saw their faces blur, and somehow, whether through exhaustion or the rich pull of memories, she saw her friends the way they used to be, with braided hair or bobs. Wearing baggy jeans or khaki shorts. Keds or flip-flops.

Bound together. Sharing wild, grand dreams and wrenching fear, close enough to be sisters.

Maybe even closer than sisters.

Grace sighed, shaking off the shadows of the past. She was exhausted, drained by three more days of seeing her grandfather in the same disoriented state. She looked down and tried vainly to stifle a yawn.

“Grace, you're exhausted. I'll run you home to your grandfather's house. In the morning I'll come back and drive you to the hospital.”

Grace nodded, yawning again. She pulled on her coat and then turned. The thought of going back to her grandfather's big empty house again left her cold. The silence was unbearable, a constant reminder of his illness. “No, I want to stay here, Jilly. You have a room upstairs, right? All I need is a sleeping bag.” She gnawed at her lip. “The house—without my grandfather, it's just too quiet. Too sad.”

“Great. You can be my first houseguest. I've got a sofa bed so you won't need to sleep on the
floor.” Jilly walked toward the hallway upstairs, then stopped, turning to look at her friends. “It's going to work. Together we're going to make something special here. I…I can feel it.” She cleared her throat, looking a little shy. “I just wanted to say—thank you for all those years I didn't say it. You guys are the best,” she muttered huskily. “You're pretty great too, Lt. Grayson.” Because she was embarrassed by her sudden emotions, Jilly looked at Gage and pointed to the door. “Now get Caro home. Just because I don't sleep doesn't mean that everybody else has to keep my crazy hours.” She shot a wry glance at Grace. “As for
you,
Einstein—we'll have plenty of time to discuss the romantic details of Energy Star ratings and commercial dishwashers tomorrow.”