Driftwood Point (18 page)

“My daughter says you're fine,” Lena said as she placed the glass in front of Lis.

“I am, thank you.”

“I can see in your eyes that it's true.” Lena rubbed Lis's shoulders for a moment. “Good for you. You'll find someone better.”

Lis could have added,
I already have
.

She devoured the gnocchi and passed on dessert, but Lena insisted on packing up a generous piece of tiramisu for Lis to take with her.

“So you're back and you'll be around the neighborhood, right? We missed you this past week,” Marianne told her.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But I'm not sure of my long-term plans. I want to spend some time with my great-grandmother in Maryland. She's one hundred years old, and she—”

“One hundred! God bless her. Of course you should spend some time with her while you can. Who knows how much longer?”

“Oh, she's not going anywhere anytime soon. She is the toughest, strongest person I know. I just want to spend some time there, where I grew up.”

“Well, don't be a stranger, right?” Marianne gave Lis a hug, handed her the bag with the tiramisu, and walked her to the door, where she greeted a family coming in and patted Lis on the back as a good night.

Lis walked back to the apartment, swinging the bag and wondering how long before she'd break down
and eat that mountain of Lena's tiramisu, which in this neighborhood was as legendary as her pasta.

Darkness had begun to settle in and she flicked on the lamp on the desk near the front door. When she first moved to the apartment, she'd placed the desk on the wall near the kitchen where she'd see it every time she came into the apartment. It was mission-style tiger oak, and the first real piece of furniture Lis had ever bought for herself. She'd found it in a tiny garage three towns away when she first moved from the city and she was looking for a shop that sold art supplies. The desk had been piled high with other objects that were being sold that day, and it was a miracle she'd even seen it. She'd wanted it so badly that she hadn't even tried to negotiate the price. She just handed over the cash and asked the seller to help her load it into her car.

Ted had moved it because it “crowded” his TV stand.

The TV and its stand having left with Ted, Lis moved the desk back to the space it had originally occupied.

“You look so much better there,” she told the lamp as she plugged it in and placed it back on its corner of the desk.

She sat at the oak table in the chair closest to the front window and listened to the sounds of the street from below. From somewhere across town she heard the shriek of a siren. While not in the city, the apartment was located in a town with a population ten times that of St. Dennis and the island combined. Over the last several nights at Ruby's, she'd grown
used to the quiet. Here it seemed she heard every car that passed and every voice that called from one side of the street to the other. She'd picked the apartment for its size, the number of windows and the amount of light they let in, and its proximity to New York. It was still spacious and bright, but it no longer suited. She felt the remnants of the relationship that had soured, and she couldn't not hear the words that had been spoken here. It was, she thought, much like that accident on the highway you couldn't unsee.

But she was lucky. She could go to the island and put the bad feelings behind her. She could stay until she figured out where she belonged. Once Ruby's cottage was ready, she could divide her time between there and here as the spirit moved her.

Here
, she decided, wouldn't be this apartment. There were too many bad memories, too many bad decisions made here, and the negative vibes had choked out her creativity. She couldn't work here: She'd tried since Ted left, but nothing seemed to work. It was time for her to make changes in her life. She'd send Ted an email and tell him to remove whatever he wanted from the apartment by the end of the month or she'd have it sold. She'd take with her to the island only those things that were important to her, put in storage the things she couldn't bring. First thing in the morning, she'd call the landlord and give notice that she'd be moving out. She'd find a place to store her chair from the bedroom, her oak table and chairs from the living room, and her desk. Ted was welcome to everything else—he'd selected most of it, anyway. She sent Ted the email, then called Ruby to
tell her she'd be here for another day or two to tie up some loose ends.

The realization that she'd taken control of her life again energized her, and for the first time in a long time, Lis felt free.

ALEC SAT IN
the front seat of the Jeep, the driver's door open, and waited for Brian Deiter and Cass Logan, his architect, to arrive. He'd asked them to meet him at the Mullan place with the hopes of selling Brian on the idea of smaller houses placed around the island rather than one big concentration of homes that screamed new development. He was hoping that once the architect saw the island and had a chance to see what was available for reuse, Cass would be intrigued enough by the challenge to agree with him. They'd never met, but he'd spoken with her on the phone, and she hadn't sounded sold on the idea, but he thought perhaps if she saw the island, saw with her own eyes what he'd tried to describe, she'd see the potential in his idea.

They were fifteen minutes late, and Alec was beginning to wonder if perhaps Brian had decided to skip the meeting and just go ahead with his plans when the white Cadillac pulled up behind the Jeep.

“Sorry we're late,” Brian told him. “There was an accident on Route 50.” Without taking a breath, he pointed to the leggy blond woman who accompanied him. “Cass, meet Alec Jansen. Alec, Cass Logan. Now, where are these houses you think I should buy? This it?”

The architect was young and beautiful, not at all
what Alec had expected. After polite greetings, they followed along behind Brian as he walked to the deserted house.

“This is one of the houses, yes. The house next door, and the one behind are also available, and I think you'll see—” Alec was cut off by the impatient developer.

“Key?” Brian held out his hand.

“I have it.” Alec passed him and unlocked the front door. Tommy Mullan had been more than happy to loan him the key when Alec told him he wanted to show the property to the potential buyer.

“Small,” Brian observed. “Way too small. Who'd want to live in a place this small? This is what you think I should buy and try to make something out of? Maybe I called the wrong guy.”

“The idea wasn't to renovate it, Brian,” Alec explained patiently. “The idea was to buy the lot—which is a good size—don't let the size of the house fool you—and take down the house—”

“Now you're talking.” Brian nodded and went to the nearest window. “Yeah, I can see the bay from here. A nice big, two-, maybe three-story place . . .”

“Ah, no,” Alec told him. “No one will sell you so much as an inch of ground here if they thought for one minute you were going to build something like that. For one thing, it would block the view of the bay for everyone who lives on the back of the island. For another, it wouldn't fit in architecturally.” He glanced at Cass, hoping for her agreement, but she said nothing. “For another, houses that big would create ecological nightmares. We already discussed that, Brian. I
thought you understood you'd be limited in what you can do here.”

“I don't like restrictions.” Brian turned from the window. “I don't like being told what I can and cannot build.”

“It's up to you how you want this to proceed. You can try to get variances and you can try to deal with the EPA and the state agencies. It will cost you a bundle and you won't win,” Alec reminded him. Damn, but he hated dealing with hardheaded clients who wanted what they wanted and didn't want to hear the truth. If Brian thought that anything had changed since the last time they had this conversation, he was wrong.

“You think anyone would buy this place? Even fixed up?” Brian stood with his hands on his hips.

“No, but I think if Cass were to design something that maintained the architectural integrity of the historic structures, and utilized some of the original features of the old places within the new, I think you'd have people falling over themselves to buy one.”

Brian glanced at Cass and said, “Well?”

She knelt and licked a finger to wet it, then rubbed away dirt on the floor. “Nice hardwood. It does have some scrapes and scars, but that adds character.” She inspected the wainscot along one kitchen wall but said nothing.

In the living room, Cass took a long look at the fireplace. “The brick is in great shape.” She turned to Alec. “Local?”

“Made in St. Dennis at the old brickworks,” he told her.

She went from room to room, noting the place­ment of archways and windows.

“The doors are in remarkably good condition,” she pointed out.

When she completed her second tour of the house, she said, “I see what Alec is saying, and I think his idea has merit. I'd like to take some time to study the exteriors of this and the one next door. Then, if I could have a tour of the island . . .”

“Absolutely.” Alec led them outside and locked the door behind them.

“You think this is a good idea, Cass? You really do?” Brian was on her heels with every step.

“I think it could be brilliant, if it's done right.” She kept walking. “I haven't heard of anyone else doing something like what Alec is proposing.”

She walked ahead of him and looked at the house from different angles, stopping several times to take photos with her phone. When she was finished, she said, “I'd like that tour of the island now.”

“I'll drive.” Alec pointed to the Jeep.

Brian still looked annoyed, but he got into the car without comment.

With Alec at the wheel, the tour took forty minutes. Careful to point out all the original structures, he wanted to make sure that the architect saw exactly what he wanted her to see. When they passed Ruby's, Cass asked, “Is that really a general store like the sign says? Like, a real old-fashioned general store?”

Alec nodded. “It's been there for well over a hundred years. The woman who owns it is that old
herself. Which means the store has been there since the 1800s, because she told me once that her parents used to run it, and their parents before them.”

“Amazing,” Cass said.

“You mean to tell me that an old lady owns that prime piece of real estate?” Brian leaned out the window to take a better look.

Alec laughed. “Brian, that ‘old lady' is one of the sharpest people I've ever known.” He wanted to add that Ruby Carter could chew up the likes of Brian Deiter and spit him out, but Brian was, after all, a client.

“That could be a great selling point,” Cass told Brian. “Here you have this unspoiled island, complete with an old-time general store. The ambience alone will pay off in the long run.”

“You really believe that?” Brian asked her again.

“I really do. Let me work on some ideas.”

Alec had returned to the Mullan property and parked the car. Cass got out first and took a few more photos with her phone.

“Having seen the rest of the island, I agree with Alec that we shouldn't block the view. I think a one-story design would be best,” she told Brian, who didn't look happy.

“You didn't see the point,” Brian told her.

“The point is not for sale,” Alec hastened to tell him.

“You know that for a fact? You asked the owner?”

Alec nodded.

“You have no idea what kind of money I could offer,” Brian persisted.

“It's not for sale, Brian.”

“Everything's for sale at the right price, buddy.” Brian got into the Cadillac and slammed the door. He rolled down the window. “Cassie, let's go.”

“One minute, Dad,” she called back. She took one more shot, then walked past Alec on her way to the white car, an amused smile on her face. “Didn't see that coming, did you?”

Alec laughed and shook his head. “I did not.”

“You're lucky you got me today and not one of his lackeys,” she told him. “I think what you have in mind to do here is wonderful. I love the concept. I want to be part of it. It's fresh and exciting and my father would be a fool to ignore your vision, and make no mistake, my father didn't get rich by being a fool. But anyone else who might have come out here today would have agreed with him, that bigger is better, because that's what he wanted to hear. They'd have convinced him that it would be a good idea to throw around as much money as possible and take on the state to get around whatever regulations stood in his way.”

“So you think he's coming around?” Alec asked.

“He already has. He doesn't especially like it, but he's on board.” She punched his arm playfully before walking away. “Like I said, today you got lucky.”

Alec stood next to the Jeep and watched the Cadillac drive off, stopping briefly in front of the grassy section that marked the beginning of the point. Moments later, the white car sped off. He got behind the wheel and headed for the store, where he'd have a chat with Ruby.

He hadn't been completely honest with Brian. Ruby hadn't come right out and said she wasn't interested in selling the point, but he was 100 percent certain that as long as Lis had eyes for that cottage, no force on earth could talk Ruby into selling it. But his conscience would nag him until he told her just how much those prime twenty-two acres could bring, and how badly Deiter wanted them. Sometimes, even when you knew the answer, you had to go ahead and ask the question.

Chapter Ten

W
ith the most-pressing of her apartment-related to-dos crossed off her list, Lis packed her car and headed south. Traffic was miserable and due to an accident, she sat on the New Jersey turnpike at Exit 8 for almost fifty minutes before the traffic began to move. Once she was over the Delaware Memorial Bridge, cars moved at a steady clip and she made it to St. Dennis by late afternoon. But here, too, tourists snagged Charles Street, cars and pedestrians both, and after crawling along for several minutes, she found herself stopped in front of Bling, the upscale boutique in the center of town.

She'd been wanting to check it out, and she decided now was as good a time as any. She put on her turn signal and made a right onto Kelly's Point Road and into the municipal parking lot.

Even Bling was crowded, with customers going through the racks of clothing and accessories. Behind the counter, a pretty dark-haired woman was ringing up a sale. In search of the dress section, Lis shimmied
past two women who were blocking the aisle as they went through the bags on display. The chatter in the store wasn't loud, but it was lively and enthusiastic.

Lis found the dresses near the back of the store. She thumbed through the hangers in her size range, and while she found several things she liked, nothing gave her that zing she was looking for.

“Looking for anything in particular?” a woman's voice from behind asked.

“I was hoping to find something pretty, something special. Something that . . .” Lis wasn't sure what she wanted.

“Something that could knock the socks off a special guy, maybe?”

Lis turned around and met the eyes of the pretty dark-haired woman she'd seen at the front counter when she came in.

“Well, now that you mention it . . . yes. Something like that.” Lis nodded.

“This is pretty. And this shade of green matches your eyes perfectly.” The saleswoman reached past Lis to pull out a hanger holding a chiffon dress. When Lis didn't reply, the woman said, “Too dressy?”

“I think maybe. It's beautiful, but I think I want something more . . .”

“More sexy? More of a statement?”

“Yes. More of a statement.”

“Something came in this morning that I think might be what you have in mind.” She disappeared into the back and returned holding a dress bag, which she hooked onto the rack and unzipped.

“Does this make the statement that you want?”

She held up a dress of water-colored silk. It was sleeveless with a V neck and was light as a feather.

Lis nodded. “That could be it, yes. May I try it on?”

“Of course. The dressing rooms are on the right just inside the back room.” The woman handed Lis the dress. “I'm Vanessa, by the way.”

“Thanks, Vanessa.” Lis stepped into the dressing room and changed. The dress floated like a cloud over her shoulders and her hips, and once zipped in the back, it fit like a dream. Lis didn't look at the price tag. She didn't care what it cost. The dress was hers.

“How are you doing in there?” Vanessa asked.

“It's perfect.” Lis stepped out of the dressing room.

“Wow, it is that. Turn,” Vanessa said, and made a twirling gesture with her index finger. “The fit couldn't be better. It's nicely fitted where it should be without being too tight. It's lovely on you. It's elegant, classy . . .”

“Done.” Lis laughed. “I'll take it.”

“Excellent.” Vanessa beamed. “Easiest sale I made all day.”

Lis removed the dress carefully—somewhat reluctantly because she loved the way it looked on her—and took it to the front counter, where Vanessa was waiting on another customer. Lis fell in line and took the opportunity to look at the jewelry under the glass.

“This was great on you, Brooke,” Vanessa was saying to the customer who'd just handed over her credit card. “Is this for the rehearsal dinner?”

“No, I'm covered there. This is for the reception at
the art gallery tomorrow night,” the woman replied. “You're going, right?”

“Of course. Everyone's going,” Vanessa said.

“Even Jesse,” the customer told her. “He said the artist is the great-granddaughter of one of his clients, so he wanted to go.”

“I heard the artist is from around here,” Vanessa continued. “Did you know her?”

“I knew her brother, Owen. Adorable—and really a nice guy back then, if a bit of a player, but I haven't seen him in years. I heard her work was really good, so I'm looking forward to it.”

Vanessa completed the transaction and returned the credit card, then handed over the bag holding the purchases. “So I guess we'll see you tomorrow, Brooke.”

Brooke? Lis frowned. Brooke Madison? The town mean girl? Lis had been too many years behind her in school to have known her, but her meanness was the stuff of legends, though she hadn't sounded so mean just then. Lis smiled to herself. She'd never heard her brother described as adorable before. A player, yes. Adorable, no.

“Did you need anything else?” Vanessa turned her attention to Lis.

“No, I think I'm— Oh! Shoes!” Lis cringed at the thought of wearing the gorgeous new dress with her old black heels. “Where can I buy shoes?”

“If you're looking for shoes to wear with this pretty little number, try right over there.” Vanessa pointed to the left side of the shop. “I don't have a huge selection, but I do have some gorgeous high
strappy sandals to wear with something like this.” She reached for the dress. “I'll hold this here for you if you want to look.”

“I do.” Lis made a beeline for the shoe section. It took her all of a minute to zero in on the exact pair. She took the display shoe back to the counter and asked Vanessa hopefully, “Size seven and a half?”

Vanessa nodded. “I'm pretty sure.” She went into the back room and came back with two boxes in hand. “I have them in black and in a soft gray.”

Lis tried on the gray. “Perfect.”

“I love them. High enough to say it without screaming it, if you know what I mean,” Vanessa said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

While Vanessa wrapped Lis's dress and shoes, she chatted. “So what's the occasion?”

“Big night tomorrow night,” was all Lis said.

“Lucky guy.” Vanessa smiled.

“Maybe.” Lis paid in cash and gathered up her bags. “Thanks. I'm glad I stopped in.”

“Me, too. Come by again if you're in town.”

“I'll do that. I'll be around for a while.”

Lis all but whistled on her way back to her car. She had, in fact, wanted to knock the socks off Alec Jansen. She just hadn't been aware of it until she put on that silk dress and zipped it up.

She was still in a happy frame of mind when she reached the island, but she frowned when she pulled around to the side of the store to park her car. An unfamiliar SUV, the color of dried mud, occupied the space she'd been using and had come to think of as hers. Gathering the bag she'd packed in the
apartment and the one containing her new purchases, Lis went in through the back door.

“Gigi?” she called out.

When there was no answer, she dropped what she was carrying and went into the store. She found Ruby deep in conversation with a man whose back was to Lis.

“Gigi, I'm back,” Lis told her.

“'Bout time.” Lis's brother, Owen, turned and stood at the same time. “How long did it take you to just pack up a few things?”

“Not as long as it took you to get your ass back to the island.” Lis threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Where the hell have you been?”

She stood back and took a good, long look. Owen was deeply tanned, his dark hair showing some natural highlighting from the sun he'd obviously spent a lot of time in.

“Been around. Alaska. Australia. Costa Rica. New Orleans.” Owen gave her one last squeeze, then let her go.

“Doing what?”

“Having adventures.” He pulled out a chair for Lis and she sat.

“Did you know he was coming today?” Lis asked Ruby.

“Not till he walked in that door, big and bold. Near gave me a heart attack. For a minute, I thought he be my brother John, come back from the dead.” Ruby's hand fluttered over her heart. “Spittin' image, I swear.”

“Was this your brother John the pirate?” Lis asked.

“No pirates on my side,” Ruby all but harrumphed. “Now, on my Harold's side, there was tell of some shady sailors.”

“That's you, Owen. The shady sailor,” Lis teased.

“Speaking of sailors, where's Uncle Eb's boat?” Owen asked.

“Down to Ellison's boatyard, where it belongs,” Ruby told him.

Owen raised a questioning brow. “What's it doing down there?”

“Gigi traded the boat to Alec Jansen in return for work he did for her,” Lis explained.

“What kind of work was worth a skipjack?” Owen's eyes, green like his sister's, narrowed with suspicion.

“The lot of you,” Ruby exclaimed. “Peas in a pod. One more suspicious than the other. You, Owen, get on up and I'll show you what kind of work be worth a skipjack.” She pointed to Lis. “You can wait out here, take care of anyone who stops by.”

Lis watched in amusement as Ruby herded her big, strapping brother into the living quarters.

She wandered around the store, stopping to straighten a shelf here and there. She took her bag and her new dress and shoes upstairs to hang in her closet, then came back down and hopped up onto the wooden counter to wait for Owen and Ruby to make their way back. She had no doubt that her brother would be as impressed as she'd been with the work Alec had done to turn unused space into comfortable
and modern rooms for Ruby, and she was just as certain that Owen would be as embarrassed that it had taken a stranger to recognize Ruby's needs and to ensure her health and safety.

She could hardly believe her brother was there. The proverbial rolling stone, Owen came and went as he pleased, and had since he was eighteen.

“So what do you think?” she asked him when his tour was completed and he and Ruby returned to the store.

“I think it's lucky for all of us that Gigi has people looking out for her. I owe Jansen a whole lot of thanks for this.” He leaned against the counter and added, “He's welcome to the skipjack and anything else he sets his sights on.”

“He did a beautiful job, that's for sure. Gigi, did you tell Owen about the cottage?”

“What about the cottage?”

Lis proceeded to fill him in on her plans, and Alec's part in helping her determine how viable those plans might be.

“Sounds like Alec has more in his sights than Eb's boat,” Owen noted.

“He's interested in the island and concerned about preserving what's here.”

“Yeah, well, we'll see what he's really interested in.” Owen turned to Ruby. “Say, if Captain Walt's is still open and serving the best rockfish on the bay, what do you say I take you both out for dinner to welcome me home?”

“Dinner suits me fine, but I've got a taste for Emily Hart's crab cakes,” Ruby told him.

“Mrs. Hart is still doing her thing?” Owen looked surprised.

“She is indeed,” Ruby assured him.

“Does she even have a restaurant license?” Lis asked.

“No one be needing a license to cook in their own kitchen and serve at their own table.”

“I'm pretty sure you do if you're charging for the food,” Lis told her.

“Yeah, the board of health might disagree,” Owen chimed in.

“Emily Hart been serving up for folks every Tuesday and Friday nights for more years than either of you been alive. Never heard tell of anyone ever having a problem with what came out of her kitchen.”

“Which is probably a good thing for Mrs. Hart,” Owen said. “If she doesn't have a license, chances are she didn't bother with liability insurance, either.”

“You hush and go change into something respectable. Those ripped-up shorts be fine for the beach, but not for being seen in public.”

“Yes, ma'am.” A chastised Owen headed for the second floor, winking at his sister as he passed.

“And you, Lisbeth, you go on and get everything out of your car. You be driving. These old legs of mine don't reach high enough to climb into that big old thing your brother's got parked out there.” Ruby placed her large black purse on the counter.

Not for the first time, Lis wondered how that small woman could carry a purse that looked to weigh almost as much as she did. God only knew what she was carrying around with her.

“Brush your hair before we go, Lisbeth. You be looking like you drove all the way from New Jersey with your head out the window . . .”

EMILY HART'S WHITE
clapboard house was a mile down the road from the general store. Built in 1883 by the grandfather of Emily's late husband, Phillip, it was one of only a few houses on the island that was two stories and the only one with any true Victorian touches. The porch was wide, wrapped from front almost to the back of the house on one side, and was framed with elaborate gingerbread trim. Several rocking chairs, set out in groups of two and three, were placed on the porch for diners who liked to relax in the soft bay breezes after dining on nights when the mosquitoes weren't biting. Inside, the dining room was large and formal, with a table that could seat ten, more with the leaves added. Diners would be seated with whomever else had shown up that night. Emily, who was seventy-seven years old, took no reservations, had no set menu, served one sitting per night at seven on the dot, only took cash, and offered no alcohol. If all the chairs were taken when you arrived, you were turned away. You ordered what she cooked that day—which was whatever her nephew Pat had brought in from the bay—and if you wanted beer or wine, you brought it with you along with the glasses you'd drink from.