Driftwood Point (23 page)

Lis had commented on the fact that many of their classmates had come, and while he assured her that everyone was happy that she'd returned home a successful artist, he hadn't told her about the part where he'd called a lot of them himself, or that the vast majority of them had remembered her as a snob.

“Lis Parker? Yeah, I remember her. She never had two words to say to anyone.”

Or: “Oh, Lis Parker, right. I heard she was living in New York or something. She any friendlier these days than she was back in school?”

Or the one that stung the most: “Lis Parker? You mean the one who turned you down for the prom in front of half the student body and made you look like a dork? That Lis Parker?”

Yeah, he'd sighed. That Lis Parker.

They just didn't know what she had been dealing with at home, didn't know what a crazy man her father had been, how he had blamed St. Dennis for everything that was wrong in his life. Alec hadn't known it back then, but over the years, he'd heard enough to piece it together. Hearing it from Lis only confirmed the rumors.

But the friends he'd called had all come tonight, and as Lis had come away with a different outlook on them, so they, too, had seen her in a different light.

“I didn't remember her as so friendly and nice. I guess you were right, Alec. Or maybe I had her mixed up with someone else. It has been a long time . . .” more than one person had said.

“Hey, people change, right?” he'd replied.

He felt sorry for her in a way. He'd had such a great time in high school, had good friends and had enjoyed his life back then immensely. He was always able to look back and smile. Lis seemed to have no such joyful memories. It was a shame, he thought as he pulled into his driveway. Kids should have fun times to look back on. Life is serious enough as you get older.

Of course, the best part of the evening came after the exhibit, when he and Lis finally got to be alone. And, he was happy to recall, the kiss they'd shared tonight had been everything he'd hoped it would be, filled with the promise of other kisses to come. No need to rush the journey, he'd told himself. He wanted to savor every mile of the ride.

He pulled into his driveway and parked near the small garage that housed his bike, a kayak, a canoe, and his tools. The Jeep was too large to fit even without the kayak, so he'd gotten into the habit of leaving it in the driveway. He got out and locked the car behind him and walked around to the front, where he picked up some litter from the lawn and tossed it into the trash can on the side of the house.

Once inside, Alec turned on the light in the front hall, which his cousin Dan had jokingly told him
wasn't large enough to be considered a foyer. The house was relatively small but it had suited Alec and his uncle Cliff just fine. Cliff had never married, so it was always just the two of them until Cliff died.

Then the house fell to Alec, who'd been grateful to inherit it. He loved the place, small though it may have been. To the devastated, frightened orphan boy he'd been, the warmth he'd been offered here had gone a long way in helping him past the tragedy that had befallen his family. He'd known Cliff well before the accident, had spent plenty of time in St. Dennis, so it wasn't as if he'd been sent to live with a stranger in a strange place. He already loved the older man, had always been welcome in this house, and as he'd told Lis, from the moment Cliff was named his guardian, he'd treated Alec like his own son.

This small house was home to him, and it had never occurred to Alec to live anywhere else. After college, he came back to St. Dennis, and to this house. Even during those few years he spent in Havre de Grace working as an environmental consultant, he returned to this house every weekend. He'd passed up job offers in other places that he considered geographically undesirable because they weren't a quick and easy drive to St. Dennis; had lost a woman he'd thought he loved when it came down to a choice between moving to Portland with her and living on the other side of the country, or losing her and staying where he was. He wasn't sure if his choice said more about the way he felt about this house, this town, or the way he felt—or didn't feel—about the woman. Either way, he'd never second-guessed his decision.
As Ruby was fond of saying, “You need to know where you belong.” There was no doubt in Alec's mind that he belonged right here, in this house, in this town.

He was hoping that sooner or later, Lis would come to the conclusion that she belonged here, too.

“HERE, LET ME
give you a hand with that.”

Owen had come outside when he saw Lis struggling to get something out of the trunk of her car.

“Like you gave me a hand last night?”

“Did I interrupt something?” He took the easel from her hands and carried it toward the house. “Where did you want this?”

“In the front bedroom, and you know damned well you did.”

“Lisbeth Jane, you watch your tongue. It's the Sabbath.” Ruby had come out onto the porch and stood with her hands on her hips.

“Sorry, Gigi. But he—”

“Hush. Don't be telling tales.” Ruby turned and went back into the store, and Lis laughed out loud in spite of having been chastised.

“What else?” Owen appeared by her side at the back of the car.

“You could grab that box of paints, and my other suitcase.”

He reached past her, picked up the box and the suitcase and was gone again. She finished emptying the trunk and took the last box inside.

“Are you going to have breakfast with Gigi and me?” Owen asked as he passed Lis on the steps.

“I had coffee earlier. I just want to get my stuff set up.”

“You're going to use Gigi and Pop's old bedroom as a studio?” he asked.

Lis nodded. “It has the best views and the best light, and Gigi said she had no use for it now, so I was welcome to it.”

“I thought the old cottage was going to be your studio.”

“Even if it can be restored, it's going to take a long time before I can set up shop there. I can't sit around doing nothing while I wait.” She went up a few steps past him, still talking. “I have a painting in my head for Gigi that I want to get started on right away. This is just temporary.”

“What if the cottage can't be saved?”

“Then I'll think of something else.”

“Sounds like you're making plans to stick around for a while more. Wouldn't have anything to do with old Alec, now, would it?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “What was all that about last night, anyway?”

“Just taking some time to renew an old friendship, that's all.”

“Owen, even you said you hardly knew him back in the day. You can't renew a friendship you never had.” She smirked. “You just wanted information on the blonde.”

“Maybe. No harm there.”

“So what did you find out?” Lis shifted the box in her arms. “About the blonde.”

“Curious, are you?”

“Don't make me hurt you, Owen.”

“Right. As if you could. All I know about her is that her name is Cass—”

“I know that much.”

“—and she's an architect.”

“I knew that, too. Tell me something I don't know.”

“She likes art—that's why she was there last night. She's renting a place over on Dune Drive, and she went to Penn undergrad and Columbia for graduate school.”

“That's it? You talked to her all that time and that's all you found out?”

“She's divorced.”

“So I guess the rest of the time you talked about yourself.”

“Pretty much. Now that you mention it, yeah.”

“Self-centered much?”

“Hey, I didn't offer to talk about myself. She just kept asking me about me. Not saying that I might occasionally bring up my accomplishments, but last night, I didn't have to. She asked.”

“Interesting.”

“What is?”

“That she found you so fascinating.” Lis turned to start back up the steps.

“Lighten up, Lis. It may come as a surprise to you—you being my sister I can overlook it—but there are some ladies who find me hot.”

“I personally don't know any, but we'll let it go. So did you get her number?”

“No,” he admitted.

“I would have put real money on that. She declined?”

“I didn't get a chance to ask her. I meant to. But when it was time to go, I went to check on Gigi. When I came back, Cass was gone.”

“So I guess she didn't find you all that fascinating after all. Better luck next time.”

“Say it like you mean it.” Owen went downstairs and disappeared into Ruby's sitting room.

Lis reached the landing and headed for the room in the front of the house. The door was open and she left the box she'd been carrying on the floor near the side window. With light coming in from two sides, the room was perfect for her to work in. Owen had set up her easel, and earlier she'd carried up a small table from the storeroom to hold her paints. She opened her case and set it on the table. She'd once told her mother that all she really needed to be happy was a place to set up her easel and some great light. Now that she had both here on the island, she could work, and few things made her happier than working. She sat on the edge of a stool she'd brought up from the store and gazed out the window.

The sky was clear and blue and the water dark and as smooth as the deepest blue silk. The rocks that formed the jetty were the color of granite, and the sand along the shore was pale gold. The dunes were paler still, and the grasses that grew along their mounds were shades of green and gray and brown. In the distance the pines grew in a haphazard pattern and overhead gulls swarmed and dove. In her mind, Lis was already mixing the colors she would need.

She sat in front of the window, a sketchbook resting on her knees, while she quickly drew the rudiments of what she saw beyond the window. She wanted it to be right, to be as near perfect as possible. This was the scene that had greeted Ruby and her Harold every morning for so many years, and Lis felt a compulsion to preserve the view. She'd learned long ago that sometimes you had to go with your gut, and since she'd arrived here, she had the urge to paint the iconic island scenes, especially those that might mean something to Ruby. She told herself that the feeling had been born of wanting to record the island's stories in Ruby's words, so wouldn't it follow that she should record the way the island had looked for so long? There had been some changes over the years, but the island she'd known and grown up on basically remained the same. Maybe Ruby had spooked her with her “change is coming” talk. Whatever, Lis's hands itched to feel her brushes and she needed to work.

When the sketch had been completed, she lined up her brushes, her tubes of paints, and her palette. She repositioned the easel so that the surface was horizontal. Soon she was lost in perfecting the blue of the sky and the nuances of the sea below. Sun sparkled off the bits of mica in the granite, and she worked to get that right. When she stopped for her first break, she found she'd been working for almost three hours. She looked around for water but realized she hadn't brought any upstairs. She rested her brush on its holder and went down into the store and found a cold pitcher of iced tea on the island in the
kitchen. She poured herself a glass and leaned against the counter to take a long, cool drink. There was a shuffling noise at the doorway and she looked over to see Ruby leaning on the jamb.

“This is great iced tea,” Lis said. “Thanks for making it.”

“That be your brother's making,” Ruby told her. “He likes to poke in the kitchen. Made chicken salad for lunch, too. That boy spent half the morning in here.”

“Are you talking about Owen?”

“You got a brother I don't know about?”

“I had no idea he liked to cook.” Lis frowned. “Why didn't I know that?”

“Maybe you two spend more than half a minute talking twice a year, you might learn something 'bout each other.” Ruby turned to go back into the store.

“Gigi, can we talk again tonight?” Lis drained the glass and rinsed it out at the sink.

“We talk every night, best I recall.”

“I mean, about the island. About what you remember from what your mother and father told you, about the old days.”

Ruby nodded. “I be around.”

“Do you mind talking about it? Does it bother you?”

“Bother me more if things that should be remembered be forgot in time.” Ruby turned toward the store and called, “Essie, you go on and make yourself some tea. I be just a minute.”

Essie called back but Lis couldn't hear what she said. Ruby was still in the doorway looking at Lis.

“Is something wrong, Gigi?” Lis asked.

“Things be right, by and by. Can't change what's meant to be, Lisbeth Jane. Time be coming when you be needing to think with your head
and
your heart. Mind you take care.”

“Take care with what?” she asked, but Ruby had already walked away.

It was so like Ruby to be cryptic sometimes. There were times when she would appear to be giving a warning of sorts, and then something would happen and Lis would wonder if that was what Ruby had meant. There was no denying that what people on the island said was true, that Ruby had “the eye,” and if that meant the ability to sometimes see things that other people didn't see, Lis could attest to that. It was just a little spooky in a way. It used to scare her just a little when she was younger, especially when she'd hear Ruby talking to Lis's mother.

“I see nothing good coming of this, Kathleen,”
she'd hear Ruby say, and Lis's mother would back off whatever she'd had in mind to do. Lis supposed that maybe her mom had experienced enough of Ruby's “seeings” that she found it more prudent not to tempt fate.

Whatever, it was disconcerting sometimes, especially when Ruby would get that expression on her face and sort of look past you, and she'd say things without explanation, like just now:
Mind you take care
. As if disaster was about to strike at any minute.