Driftwood Point (19 page)

Emily had a set of very fine crystal wineglasses that no one ever drank from. Including Emily.

“Well, look at you, Ruby Carter.” Emily's eyes lit when Owen and Lis followed Ruby into the dining room. “You got that boy of yours and your girl
with you. Glad you brung 'em to see me.” She patted Owen on the back. “Got soft-shells tonight, big guy. Rockfish, too.”

“I don't know that I can choose between your soft-shelled crabs and your rockfish, Mrs. Hart.” Owen held a chair out for Ruby. “That might be asking too much.”

“Well, boy, lucky for you, you don't have to choose.” Emily turned to the five others who were already seated at the table. “That there joining you is Ruby Carter. She owns the general store up this side of the drawbridge. That be her great-grandchildren, Owen and Lisbeth. These nice folks here at the table be the Hawkins family, all the way from Ohio.”

There was a chorus of
Nice to meet you
's and
How are you
's,
So you live here'
s, and
What brings you to Cannonball Island?
before the two families retreated back into the sanctuary of their private conversations.

“This is so pretty. The white-lace tablecloth, the pretty china . . .” Lis said. “It's just the way I remember it.”

“The jelly glasses for water,” Owen murmured.

“You mind your manners, Owen Parker,” Ruby chastised even as her lips fought a smile.

“If I'd known we were going to come here for dinner, I'd have stopped at Miller's for a bottle of wine when I came through town,” Lis said.

“I'm more a beer guy myself,” Owen told her. “Last time I was home, I had some of that MadMac beer that Clay Madison and his partner are brewing. Good stuff. I think I'll run over to St. Dennis after dinner and pick up a six-pack or two.”

“Been a tea drinker all my life,” Ruby said. “Never did see a reason to fuzz my brain. Life can confuse your thinking all on its own.” She poked Owen with a slightly bent finger. “How long you be sticking around this time?”

When Owen failed to reply, Lis kicked him lightly under the table.

“Owen?” Lis poked him with her foot. “Gigi asked how long—”

“I heard. I'm trying to think how to answer.”

“Was the question too hard for you? 'Cause we can rephrase it . . .” Lis rested her arms on the table.

“Actually, it is,” Owen said slowly. “To tell you the truth, I wasn't thinking about coming back for a while, but something got into my head about this place and I just felt like I had to come home.”

“Was that something my art exhibit?”

“I wanted to come home for that, of course. But it was more than that. It just felt like it was time.”

“Time for what?” A prickle had gone up Lis's spine. She hated when Owen talked like that. He'd been doing it since he was a child. “Were you worried about Gigi's fall?”

“That not be it,” Ruby said almost unperceptively.

“At first that's what I thought, but it doesn't feel like that. Oh yeah, Gigi told me about her fall, and I'm real grateful that she was found when she was and that she's all right. But this isn't about that. It doesn't feel like that.”

Ruby nodded and exchanged a long look with Owen.

“I just felt like I needed to come home,” he said. “That something important was waiting for me here. I can't explain it better than that.”

“Don't need more explaining,” Ruby told him. “Sometimes things just be what they be.”

“What would be important enough to make you want to stick around?” Lis asked.

“Don't know yet.” Owen shrugged.

“So what have you been doing?” Before he could offer a glib response, Lis added, “And we don't want that nonanswer, ‘Having adventures.' ”

“Hey, I'm all about adventure.”

When Lis made a face, he said, “Okay, for a while I was fishing in Alaska. Then it occurred to me that I really hate the cold. A guy on the boat with me was from Australia. He was going back and talked me into going with him. His family owned a cattle ranch, so I did some ranching for a while. Fixed fences. Looked for lost cattle. Didn't stay there very long, but it was a good experience.”

“And Costa Rica?”

“Surfing and diving, mostly. I hooked up with a salvager—guy I knew in college. Ran into him on the beach down there one day. His company was doing a salvage operation on a ship that went down off the coast, and they needed one more guy on the diving team.”

“Small world,” Lis noted.

“Really. I hadn't seen Jared Chandler in ten years. Then all of a sudden, there he was. So yeah. Small world.” Owen fell quiet for a moment. “You know,
I've always liked to dive. Never occurred to me that I could make a living from it. Funny how it all worked out.”

“How did it work out?” Lis asked.

“Long story short, Jared offered me a job. His company's salvage operation is going to be working on a ship that sunk out there in the bay about two hundred years ago.”

“Going to take another hundred years to bring it up,” Ruby said. “Bay be busier than a beehive in July. How you figure to bring up a ship around all the crab traps and oyster beds?”

“Well, I guess that's for Jared to work out.”

“Did you take the job?”

“I did, Lis. I don't know what led me back here, but it seems now I have a reason to stay. At least for a while. We'll see what comes next.”

“You were always creepy about stuff like that.” Lis couldn't help herself. She had to say it. “You and cousin Maryclaire. Always had these creepy feelings that this or that was going to happen. And sooner or later, something always did.” She turned to Ruby. “And you, too, Gigi. You always know stuff before it happens. You don't always give it away, but I know you always know.”

Ruby smiled.

“You're just jealous because you don't have the eye.” Owen seemed to almost gloat.

“I don't want ‘the eye.' I don't want to know what's going to happen before it does. I like being surprised.”

“I don't always know what's going to happen.”
Owen turned to Ruby. “But she's right about you, Gigi. You always know stuff you don't talk about. You never seem to be surprised about anything.”

“Surprises be overrated sometimes,” was all Ruby said.

“Well, speaking of surprises, how surprised were you when you were asked to exhibit in the new art center?” Owen turned back to his sister.

“Very surprised. For one thing, I didn't know about the gallery—didn't know there was one.”

“Just goes to show how far and wide your fame as an artist has spread.”

“The woman who runs it owns a very well-known and prestigious gallery in New York, among other places. She heard about a sale I made up there, read a few of the articles that followed that sale, realized I was from Cannonball Island, and since she likes to show the work of local artists, invited me to exhibit. She's a very clever lady, this Carly Summit. She'll exhibit local artists regardless of taste or talent. I've seen some of the stuff some of the locals have done, and I have to tell you, some of it is pretty bad. I think it's so kind of her.”

“Kind of her to inflict terrible art on St. Dennis?”

Lis laughed. “Look, most people who are terrible artists don't know how bad they are. She gives everyone the opportunity to see their work exhibited, makes them feel like a real artist, if only for a little while.”

“I get it. So will your paintings be hanging between Elvis on black velvet and the paint-by-numbers red-covered-bridge scene?”

“Please. It's cats with scary eyes on black velvet,
and I'm not sure, but I think maybe Carly draws the line at paint by numbers.”

“I guess the line's got to be drawn somewhere.”

“Hazel Stevens been painting those cats for years.” Ruby shook her head. “Cats been gone longer than your daddy. Think she'd find something else to paint.”

Emily appeared in the doorway, two of her nieces behind her carrying trays.

“Dinner be served now. Hope you brought your appetites.” Emily came into the room, then stepped aside so the two girls could place bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, string beans, and new carrots on the table. “You all know it's family style here, so Mr. Hawkins, you go on and start up here at this end of the table, serve yourself, then pass the bowls around the table clockwise. You get to the bottom of the bowl, you let me know and we'll fill it up again.”

The girls left the room, then returned with platters piled high with soft-shelled crabs and fat wedges of lemon. A second platter of rockfish cut into fillets came next.

“Plenty more in the back,” Emily told them, “so you all go on and enjoy your dinner.”

She disappeared back into the kitchen, and for a few moments, the only sound in the room was that of spoons clinking on the sides of the well-used bowls.

By the time dinner was over and dessert had been served—blueberry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream—Lis found herself wishing she'd worn a tank dress or anything without a waist.

“I haven't eaten like that since . . .” She paused to reflect. “Maybe never. I may need a forklift to get me out of this chair.”

“I know what you mean,” Owen agreed. “I think I just ate about five times my normal caloric intake.”

“That might have something to do with all that butter on the soft-shells,” Lis reminded him.

“Look who's talking, Miss Please Pass the Potatoes.”

“I only did that once, and only because I never get mashed potatoes.”

“Seems to me calories not be the point,” Ruby said as she struggled to stand. Before she could blink, Lis was on one side, Owen on the other, to help her out of her seat. “Seems to me some people have eyes bigger than their stomachs.”

“Sad but true, Gigi,” Owen said. “I'm the first to admit it.”

Emily came out from the kitchen to applause from her diners and accepted their praise with pride.

“Been doing this longer than most of you all been alive,” she told them. “Nice to see I'm still appreciated. Now, you all go on out and set a spell on the porch, if you have a mind to.” She turned to Ruby. “You be staying a time?”

“Not tonight, Emily. I think I'd best be getting these two on home. We be back before long, though,” Ruby assured her.

“Don't be a stranger, then.” Emily walked them to the door. “And you, Lisbeth—I'll be by to see your paintings. Wouldn't be missing it.”

“We'll be looking for you, Mrs. Hart.” Lis held the
door till everyone filed out, then along with Owen, helped Ruby down the steps and to the car.

“I'm glad you suggested that tonight, Gigi,” Lis said as she started her car after they'd strapped themselves in with their seat belts.

“Nothing like what comes out of Emily's kitchen.” Ruby nodded.

“I am looking forward to trying Captain Walt's while I'm home, though. I've heard a lot about it.”

“Wait. You've never eaten at Captain Walt's?” Owen eyed her with disbelief. “And you're how old?”

“I just never think about going to town, Owen. And most of the time when I'm home, I hang out with Gigi here on the island.”

Owen muttered something under his breath, but when Lis asked him what he said, he just shook his head.

It was still light out when they arrived back at the store, but only barely. The sun was setting across the bay and the fireflies were already dancing across the dune when Owen and Lis helped Ruby up the front steps.

“Wouldn't need help out here if that railing was a little more stable,” Ruby complained.

“I'm surprised Jansen didn't fix that, too,” Owen noted.

“Alec be spending his time inside and out back,” Ruby told him as she unlocked the door. “Seems to me someone else could toss a hammer just as good.”

“You're right. And first thing in the morning I will do just that.” Owen went back out to the handrail and wiggled it back and forth. “Looks like
a few nails at the base and another few at the top should do it.”

“Hammer's in the shed, nails are, too.” Ruby looked over her shoulder and told them, “I'll be reading a bit before I turn in. Owen, I 'spect you'll be wanting pancakes in the morning.”

“I expect I will.” One foot on the first step, the other on the ground, Owen grinned. “Want me to make them this time?”

“I'm sure I do not.” Ruby closed the door.

“How do you rate pancakes?” Lis asked. “I never get pancakes.”

“You would if you were as pretty as me.” Owen came up the stairs and sat on the top step. He patted the space next to him.

Lis sat and looked out across the dune.

“It's so peaceful here. I hope the island never changes,” she said.

“Everything changes,” he said.

“Not Cannonball Island. I bet it's looked pretty much the same for the past eighty, maybe a hundred years.”

“Maybe it's time.”

“Time for what? A Dairy Queen and a 7-Eleven?”

“Nothing that drastic, but maybe some new blood.”

“Owen, there's not even a lot of old blood around anymore.”

“My point exactly. You wouldn't want to see the island die out, right?”

“Of course not.” Lis frowned and picked at a fingernail she'd split when she was unloading her car.

“So you need some new blood. New energy. Change can be good.”

“I like things just the way they are around here.” She dug in her bag for a nail file.

“This from someone who wants to renovate that old shack down on the point?”

“It's not a shack, and that's different. That's part of our family history, and if Alec thinks it can be salvaged, then yes, that's what I want to do. But there are probably termites and water damage and I'm not sure what else. I'd love for it to work, though, Owen. The place is magic.”