Newport Dreams: A Breakwater Bay Novella (5 page)

But how could she convince her dad?

They said Bruce was stressed. Well, she knew the feeling.

Ordinarily when life got to be too much, she’d go out to a party or a bar, have a few drinks, dance, maybe pick up some decent guy for a one nighter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a steady lover. And “boyfriend?” It was a quaint and yet oddly tempting idea. Unfortunately, she’d never met anyone who kept her interest for more than a few days.

She wondered if Bruce had a steady relationship with someone.

“Don’t even think it.” She liked the way he looked, kind of got off on his intensity when it wasn’t directed toward her. But she knew better than to pursue it. She knew exactly where that would lead. Not to love, but straight out the door with a pink slip.

Chapter 5

E
ARLY
S
UNDAY MORNING,
Geordie slung a stuffed beach bag and her waterproof camera bag across her chest and set off to meet Carlyn. The day was already sunny and warm and she was looking forward to a day at the beach.

She was also a little nervous. She liked Carlyn and Meri, but she knew very little about them. And they knew practically nothing about her, which is the way she wanted it.

She’d insisted on walking over to Carlyn’s apartment because she didn’t want them to see where she lived. Have it draw a line between them. Have to explain that it wasn’t really hers. All the things you found out about people as you got to know them.

She wanted to be taken seriously, not be thought of as the rich, aimless person she was. Besides she was really enjoying the work.

And not just photographing the site. She’d helped Carlyn rearrange the furniture in her office. Then Meri asked her to help her roll out plastic to cover some wood inlay. Everyone on the team pitched in where and when they were needed. And before Geordie realized it, she’d joined in the spirit of the others. Strangely enough she began to feel excitement, found herself taking ownership in the project herself.

Only Bruce blamed Geordie for not having experience. Doug had complimented her work. Meri and Carlyn didn’t judge her, but helped bring her up to speed.

The more Geordie learned about Doug’s team, the more her mind started going places she’d promised herself not to go. Here were people who lived from paycheck to paycheck, saving what money they could for when there were no checks. Who were content hanging out at the neighborhood karaoke bar, or eating lunch on the steps of an old house.

And they loved their work.

Geordie loved the way they got excited over simple things. Like Meri, rapt as she stared up at that god-awful painted ceiling. Doug marking up the floor plans with a flourish of an artist. Even Bruce, the ogre, hunched over the front steps, speculating what might be underneath decades of paint and plaster and grime.

She understood what they were seeing. Felt their anticipation, the possibilities. Wasn’t it the same with her when she saw something that was more than what it appeared? Something that her eye could capture and transform . . .

Geordie arrived at Carlyn’s much too soon. She was looking forward to the day but also was a little nervous. She shifted her bags and walked up the steps of an old house with four mailboxes hanging on the front wall. It was funky and lived-in. As she opened the door, a man holding a child in one arm and a tricycle in the other, called out, “Hold the door.”

Geordie did and stayed to watch as the girl climbed on and pedaled down the sidewalk, her father walking briskly behind her.

Carlyn lived on the first floor. She answered the door wrapped in a towel. “Come on in. I’m almost ready. Just running a tad late.”

Geordie walked into the smallest combination living room and kitchen she’d seen since her summer abroad in Ibiza, where she photographed Greek ruins and dark native children playing in the streets.

She could see through to a small bedroom that was filled with morning light and half-packed cardboard boxes.

“Are you moving?”

“No, can’t afford to. My roommate is going to grad school in California. I’ll have to start looking for another one.” She shuddered dramatically. “It’s so hard to find someone you can put up with and vice versa.”

Geordie nodded. She couldn’t imagine being confined to such a small space.

“I’m almost ready. Just have a seat.”

Geordie sat on a vintage couch that sagged in the middle and was threadbare on the arms.

“Overslept.” Carlyn called from the second bedroom. She came out a minute later dressed in yellow jeans and an orange striped tee under a black hoodie. She rummaged through her oversized purse, tossing out a book, makeup, papers, and a calculator onto the tiny kitchen counter. Finally, she extracted a wallet and a pair of sunglasses and stuffed them into an even larger tote.

Geordie stood. “Are you sure it’s okay with Meri’s grandmother if I show up?”

“I’m sure. The more the merrier. Gran loves company and she’s a great cook.”

Geordie swallowed. She hoped she wouldn’t feel awkward and totally out of place.

“Come on. Sun’s out. Let’s get hopping; there won’t be many more days like this.”

Carlyn’s car was parked at the curb half a block away. They threw their stuff in the back seat and jumped in.

It was the end of September, and they were having a bit of an Indian summer. And a brief respite from tourists, a few days between the end of one tourist season and before the fall leaves drew a whole new set of people

Traffic, always heavy on weekends, was moving steadily but slowly and a few minutes later they were turning onto Memorial Boulevard heading east toward the bridge that would lead them to the peninsula and farmland.

Geordie leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. There was something about the air around the ocean, the sun over water, something she’d like to capture with her camera, the sight, the taste, the smell, the feel. All through the lens. She knew she could do it. That was her passion. It just didn’t pay the rent.

And would never satisfy her parents.

“What?”

Geordie opened her eyes and looked over at Carlyn. “What about what?”

“News alert. Humongous sigh from the passenger seat. Or was that a snore?”

Geordie laughed. “I guess it was a sigh.”

“Good or bad sigh? Or a none-of-my-business sigh?”

“Oh, good. I guess. Just taking in the freedom.”

“Huh. Riding in an old clunker make you feel free?”

Geordie shifted to face Carlyn. “It does today. Anyway it’s a classy old clunker.”

Carlyn grinned at her. “I guess you had a rough week. You’ll get your chops down soon. Don’t know why Bruce Stafford is being such a jerk to you. Doug says he’s under a lot of pressure.”

Geordie snorted. “From what?” She bet he didn’t have a family that totally disapproved of his choice of professions. There was nothing wrong with being an architect.
There was nothing wrong with being a photographer either.

“Money, I think. If you haven’t noticed, none of us will retire with a pension. Hell, none of us will ever be able to retire, period.”

“Do you ever think about doing something else? I mean you could get a job in finance and make a lot more.”

“Meri would kill me if I tried to leave.” Carlyn grinned. “She’d probably even kick me out of our karaoke group.”

“You stay just for her?”

“God, no. I love it. It’s a pain in my butt trying to raise enough money, but it’s addictive. You should see our other houses. Doug used to be a great conservator, engineer, painter, carpenter. Amazing.

“What happened to him?”

“Fell through a second-story floor, broke his leg and hip in several places. He’s pinned together. Will never go up another ladder. At least not to work. So he struck out on his own. Finds the buildings. Convinces someone to bankroll him enough to get started, then I go in and try to drum up support while Meri and everyone else works like nutcases to make silk purses out of some really butt-ugly sow’s ears. It’s the best job in the world.”

“I guess you like it a little.”

“Yep.”

Geordie saw the sign for the bridge across the Sakonnet River. She closed her eyes. Not relaxed this time, but clearing her head of all thoughts, breathing deeply until they were across.

They turned south and drove along a county road, passed through the little town of Tiverton and into farm country. Some fields were still green, some were just turning golden or brown. Some were mown, and some were still ripening, their stalks crowded and swaying as one in the ocean breeze. The air was tangy with salt and Geordie was sure she could hear the rush of the waves on the shore.

It wasn’t long before they turned down a long drive that led between grassy dunes toward two houses. The nearest one was several stories tall, dark shingled, with alcoves and heavy eaves, a Gothic menace that even the sunlight couldn’t brighten.

She was relieved when Carlyn drove past it and pulled into the next drive. She stopped in front of a stone-and-clapboard farmhouse. Meri’s car was already parked at the far side.

“Welcome to Calder Farm,” Carlyn said. “Isn’t it fabulous?”

“It is.”

An older woman came to the door and waved as they got out of the car.

“Hey Gran.” Carlyn leaned forward to give the woman a kiss. “This is Geordie. She just came to work with the team. Geordie this is Therese Calder, Meri’s grandmother. We all call her Gran.”

Geordie stuck out her hand.

“Welcome Geordie,” Therese said, shaking her hand. Then held it long enough to give it a pat. She was a tall woman, not old, not young, or maybe both. Geordie could practically see the stories written in the fine lines created by her smile. She itched to get out her camera.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Calder.”

“You’re very welcome. And you can certainly call me Gran. I don’t know if I’d answer to my own name around Meri’s friends.” She released Geordie’s hand. “Make yourself at home.”

“Where’s Meri?” Carlyn asked as they walked into a cozy, sweet-smelling kitchen.

“She took an apple pie over the way, to Alden. Don’t worry, I made two. She’ll be coming back; I’m sure she heard your car. Take your things upstairs to the guest bedroom to change if you’re planning to swim.”

“You know we are. This might be the last swim of the season.” Carlyn planted another kiss on Therese Calder’s cheek; Geordie smiled at her and followed Carlyn up the stairs.

Meri was waiting for them in the kitchen when they came down dressed for the beach, and in Geordie’s case, laden with her camera bag. She planned to get some good shots today.

She’d spent way too many years wasting time in the sun and surf with drinks and men without taking a single photo.

Mrs. Calder handed Meri a cooler of food and a thermos of iced tea and watched from the door as they crossed the dunes.

Geordie glanced back, and Mrs. Calder waved. Geordie could feel the love between Meri and her grandmother, and Therese Calder—Gran—managed to spread it to Carlyn and Geordie. It was pretty cool.

Meri led the way down an eroded sand path between tall grasses and sea roses. It took some concentration not to slide all the way to the water, and Geordie was a little winded when they finally arrived on a small half moon sheltered on one side by the dunes and on the ocean side by the rocks of a breakwater that curved from the headland. The sun was warm and the waves were tame.

They stood on a patch of soft white sand.

To their left the beach gradually became coarser until it turned into pebbles that became darker and a bit foreboding. Behind it, the roof of the Gothic mansion rose above the dunes, evocative and a little scary. To the right a clump of sea roses led to a point where the land joined the breakwater.

“This is an amazing place,” Geordie said. “Is it all your family’s, Meri?”

“Yeah,” Meri said and flicked her eyes toward the menacing Gothic house. “Well, we share it with Alden, but he’s like family.”

As they spread out their towels, Geordie wondered if they would catch a glimpse of the eccentric neighbor before they left. She pulled off her top and jeans and lay back. There was hardly any breeze on the sheltered beach and the sun beat down, warming her, as she watched the clouds drift overhead.

She hadn’t been aware of how really tense she’d been until she felt herself melt into the contours of the sand, her muscles grow heavy and her eyelids began to droop. It had been a stressful week.

Between working late to satisfy the ogre architect and lying awake worried about her future, she was bone tired. And now that she finally had the chance to relax, the adrenalin that had kept her going fled and she was left with a sense of peace.

It wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did, but for now . . .

Meri and Carolyn lay beside her, eyes closed, both in their own worlds, or maybe asleep.

One woman, dark haired with fair skin, slightly ethereal, the other colorful and robust—the odd couple and great friends. Carlyn’s energy calm as she sprawled face up in the sun, stripped down to a string bikini. Meri’s energy creating an aura around her even as she lay on an old beach blanket, her bikini covered with a zipped hoodie and her legs bare to the sun.

Geordie automatically reached for her camera. Knew if she started whirring away, the mood would be destroyed.

“I’m going to take some shots of the dunes,” she said.

Carlyn languidly raised a hand. Meri opened her eyes and turned her head enough to see her. “Have fun.”

“I will.” Geordie headed for the dunes. They formed a wall behind the beach and were covered with green shrubs and tall grasses so green and vibrant that it took her breath away. The sun drifted behind one of the white puffy clouds overhead, sweeping a change of color over the grasses. And returning to full color a moment later.

Soon she was settled into the
whirr, whirr
of photographing, and the rest of the world disappeared. She zeroed in on the colors and textures of the dunes. Took close-ups of animal tracks until they turned into pure design. Turned back to capture some candid shots of Meri and Carlyn.

She lay down on the sand propped on one elbow, so that she could aim the camera through a curtain of sticky sea grass at the two women on the beach. The grass created a kind of filter, blurring the figures until they were mere hints of color. Then she sat up and zoomed in just as Carlyn stood up and walked out to the surf. Geordie followed her with the lens.

Carlyn turned back, shielding her eyes with her hand. She saw Geordie and waved. “Come have lunch.”

The mood was broken. Geordie had no idea how long she’d been there taking shots and she felt a bit like a voyeur. She hadn’t even asked if it was okay to photograph them. But wasn’t that the point? To capture the feel without the subject being aware of the camera?

She was stiff. And embarrassed. How rude could she be, to be invited for the day at the beach and then use the friends who invited her as subjects? But Carlyn merely grinned back at her and struck a pose. She got off one more shot and staggered to her feet.