At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (11 page)

Sophie had to bite her tongue to keep from urging Violet to get to the point—the point being the status of the restaurant. She knew that once that thought was in Violet’s head, the woman wasn’t going to rest until she knew what was going on with the property.

“She’s thinking about going into a home, Enid is. There’s a new one out on the highway going toward Ballard that’s supposed to be very nice. I believe she’s looking into it, though I hear it’s very expensive. She
said she’d probably have to sell her house in order to afford it.”

“That’s too bad.”
No, no, the restaurant
, Sophie thought.
She ought to sell the restaurant
.

“She’d be much better off in a home, really, with people to look after her. She said she fell around Christmas and if her neighbor hadn’t come over to bring her a plate of cookies, she’d probably still be there on the floor. Then again, that house was built by her grandfather and it’s going to break the poor woman’s heart to part with it.”

Get to the point. Please. Get to the part where she’s going to sell the restaurant
.

“So I asked her what other properties she owns—the Walsh family had some holdings here in town—but she said that everything had been sold over the years. Except, of course, the place out on River Road.” Violet looked up at Sophie. “She said she just couldn’t sell that place. Too many happy memories there, you see.”

Damn
. Sophie’s heart sank.

“But I pointed out that she should probably have the property appraised,” Violet went on. “Because you never know, really, what lies ahead. Better to have one’s affairs in order, you know. I said, ‘Perhaps the better option might be to sell the old restaurant’—which really is of no use to her, after all—‘and keep the house.’ As I pointed out to her, with the nursing home being so pricy, why, she could stay in her own house and have someone live in for much less money.” She glanced up at Sophie again and added, “I believe she may be taking that into consideration.”

“That would seem like a smart thing to do.” Sophie tried to hide the surge of hope that sped through her.

“I’m sure I’ll hear either way.”

“You think she’ll call you when she makes up her mind?”

“I’m sure I’ll hear about it when I pick her up on Sunday mornings for church. I told her I’d drive her whenever she wants to go.” Violet smiled again. “It’s the charitable thing to do …”

Chapter 8

J
ASON
drove his pickup to the end of Curtis Enright’s driveway and parked in front of the old stone carriage house. He’d barely gotten out of the cab when he heard his name called.

“Jason!” Curtis came toward him across the uneven lawn, a weathered walking stick in his right hand.

I’m going to level off that section
, Jason thought as he saw the old man wobble slightly and pause to steady himself on the bumpy terrain.
After we get rid of the moles
.

“Hey, chief.” Jason walked to meet him so that his client wouldn’t have to navigate over the increasingly lumpy ground. “I was just about to come up to the house. You didn’t have to walk all the way down here.”

“Nonsense. A man has to get his exercise somehow.” The old man’s eyes sparkled.

“Seems like moles are tearing up the lawn down here. It looks like they have a series of condos that reach almost to the river.” Jason bent down to inspect the ruts in the ground.

“I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in taking care of the far-back portion of the property,” Curtis admitted. “Other than having the grass mowed and the trees pruned from time to time, I haven’t paid as much attention as I might have. Guess I’m paying for that now. So how do we get rid of them?”

“I can have someone come in and take care of the problem.”

“Good, good. Whatever you need to do. I’d hate to see someone trip and break an ankle.”

That would most likely be you
, Jason thought. Aloud, he said, “I’ll have someone out by the end of the week. In the meantime, let me show you what we’re going to be doing in the big garden starting next week.”

They started toward the house, Jason slowing his pace to match Curtis’s, though he didn’t mind that it took a few minutes longer to reach the other side of the yard. He enjoyed the company of the older man—looked forward to it, actually. Jason had never known either of his own grandfathers, but he thought he would have liked one of them to be a little like Curtis Enright. It wasn’t so much about the fact that Curtis was prosperous as it was about his spirit. Jason had been comfortable in his company since the first time they’d met to talk about possible refurbishing of the grounds. There was something about the old guy that clicked with Jason, something that made being around him a pleasure.

“Let’s go on inside.” Curtis pointed his walking stick toward the back door. “Bring your plans in and we’ll take a look.”

“I’ll grab the folder from the truck and meet you in the house.”

Jason waited until Curtis safely reached the flat part of the yard before grabbing his work folder from the front seat. Curtis was already inside by the time Jason caught up with him.

Curtis glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Four o’clock,” he muttered. “Well, it’s six o’clock somewhere. How ’bout a beer while we go over those drawings of yours?”

When Jason hesitated, Curtis added, “Unless you have another client this late in the day …”

“Done for the day after this. A beer would be great, thanks.”

Curtis went to the refrigerator and removed two bottles. “Jesse dropped off some of that new beer Clay and Wade are working on. Blueberry honey beer. Sounds more like one of Steffie’s ice-cream flavors than beer, you ask me. But no. Beer.” He shook his head. “Blueberry honey
beer
.”

“I had some the other night. It’s pretty good, actually.”

“I remember when beer’s flavor was beer.” Curtis went into the butler’s pantry and returned with two pilsner glasses. “You may not remember, but beer didn’t used to come in flavors.”

“I remember.” Jason felt mildly amused. “I’m not
that
young.”

“It’s all relative, my boy.” Curtis opened one of the bottles, poured the beer down the side of the glass, and handed both glass and bottle to Jason, then repeated the process for himself. When his own glass had been poured, he gestured toward one of the doors
leading from the kitchen. “Let’s take these into the library. You can spread your plans on the table in there and we can take a look.”

Jason followed Curtis through one of the doors and into the grand entry hall. A table held a lamp, a large painted vase filled with branching arms of forsythia, and a pair of silver candleholders. Jason thought he detected the faintest hint of gardenia in the air.

“Mrs. Anderson’s touch.” Curtis pointed at the vase as they passed by. “She thought the house looked dreary last week, so she cut some bare branches and brought them in to force them into bloom. Looks like it worked. Flowers popped out over yesterday afternoon. Does look brighter.”

He continued walking as he spoke, pausing only to open a door on their left, then stood aside for Jason to enter.

“Feel a little chilly in here?” Curtis asked Jason.

“Maybe a little.” Jason pointed to the fireplace. “I could build you a fire.”

“That would be nice.” Curtis nodded and looked pleased by the offer. “Thank you.”

“You chop all this wood yourself?” Jason asked as he selected a few lengths of wood from the black iron cauldron where they were stacked and piled them on the hearth.

Curtis chuckled. “Ah, it’s been years since I so much as carried the stuff into the house. Jesse had someone cut it from some branches that fell from an old oak last year.”

“I bet you’re glad Jesse lives so close.” Jason crumpled some newspaper and placed it under the rack upon which he’d stacked several pieces of wood.

“Couldn’t be happier. He’s the future of Enright and Enright, and he’s grown into a good man. I’m delighted to have him around. Wish I could convince his sister to come aboard.” Curtis eased himself into a seat at the table facing the fireplace. “Matches are in the box on the mantel.”

I wouldn’t mind having Jesse’s sister around full time, either
.

Jason struck a match and held the flame to the newspaper, allowing the fledgling fire to crackle for a moment or two before using the bellows to gently urge it upward to the logs. When the logs caught and the fire began to settle into the wood, he replaced the bellows onto the iron rack that had held it.

“Very nice.” Curtis nodded. “Thank you. You get old, you can’t be too warm.”

“This really is quite the library.” Jason took in the entire sweep of walls that were lined with shelves almost to the ceiling. He’d seen pictures of rooms like this but he wasn’t certain such rooms existed these days. “That’s some collection of books you’ve got there.”

“Enrights have all been readers, apparently. There are books there that ancestors of mine had decades ago. Every subject you can imagine. Go ahead, take a look if you’d like.” Curtis pointed to the wall of shelves.

Jason pushed back from the table and walked around it, approaching the shelves with a sort of wonder. He’d never seen so many books in a private home.

“Quite an assortment.” He glanced from bookshelf to bookshelf. “
The Complete Works of Ellery Queen
. My dad had those.”

“Your dad a mystery fan?”

“He was. He’s been gone for a long time.” Jason turned back to the shelves. “I like that you have modern mystery writers on the same shelf. Harlan Coben and James Lee Burke, P.D. James alongside Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Nice.”

“All my favorites. If you see something you like, feel free to borrow it.”

“Thanks. I’m afraid I don’t have much time for reading these days.” Jason’s gaze rested on a large volume. “Frank J. Scott’s
Victorian Gardens
,” he read aloud.
“The Art of Beautifying Suburban Home Grounds.”

“You know the book?”

“I paid eight dollars for a used copy years ago. It’s a classic. First published in 1870.” He touched the spine reverently. “This was the major style book of the Victorian period. He was one of the first to propose that gardens were supposed to enhance the house they were built around.”

“What was the previous thought?” Curtis asked. “What else would they enhance?”

“Nature. The naturalists believed that gardens should enhance their natural surroundings. Scott—and a few others—thought the landscape should add beauty to the house. That you should see something beautiful when you looked out of every window.”

Jason’s eyes lingered for a long moment on the Scott, his fingers itching to pull the book from its place and open it to check the copyright date. He’d bet everything he had that it was a first edition from 1870. He’d never been that close to one before. He had his secondhand copy, a reissue, and he’d seen the original reproduced online, but there was nothing
like seeing a first edition. He sighed, then went back to the table.

Jason put the coveted book from his mind and got back to the business at hand. “Did I tell you I bought some property out on River Road for my business?”

“No, you didn’t. What do you have in mind?”

Jason took a seat and one long swig of beer, then described his plans.

“It sounds ambitious,” Curtis noted.

“It’s pretty much what I had back in Florida.”

“So you already have a business plan.”