River's End (9781426761140) (9 page)

She looked up at the bridge. “I still remember when this was built,” she told him. “I was a teenager at the opening of it, back in 1936. The bridge was the biggest thing that had happened to our town in my lifetime. My parents were so excited about it. They thought it would help business at the store.”

“Did it?”

“Oh, yes. It helped businesses everywhere. I guess you could say it put us on the map.”

“And that was a good thing?”

She shrugged. “Mostly good . . . you know in the way growth and progress can be good . . . and bad.” She turned back to see the river before them now. “Kind of like the jetties, they opened up the ocean to more fishermen . . . according to my grandmother that was both good and bad.”

As he continued on down the river, her curiosity grew. But she decided not to question him . . . just let it play out. He obviously had some kind of plan. Finally, they were getting close to the end of the jetty, and Clark pulled into a short dock.

“Our final destination?” she asked as he helped her out.

“Not exactly,” he said as he tucked a folding camp chair beneath one arm.

Laughing at this unexpected sense of adventure, she let him now lead her up the hill and through some blackberry bushes and brambles where someone had hacked a rustic trail. Without questioning, she continued to follow him on and up until they were standing on a high piece of ground.

“Look,” he told her, sweeping his arms all around.

Catching her breath, she looked all around. “You can see the ocean and the river from here,” she said happily. “It's beautiful.”

“It's the river's end and the ocean's beginning,” he said happily. “And I just knew you'd like it.”

She nodded. “I do like it.”

“Now, if you'll wait here, I'll go fetch our things.”

“Let me help,” she said quickly.

“No.” He unfolded the camp stool, setting it up on the crest of the hill. “You just sit here and relax. Enjoy the view!”

“Okay.” She sat down and looked out over the beautiful vista. So much blue! Varying shades, one blending into the next. She could barely see the line between the ocean's horizon and the sky. Serene, peaceful, calm. She took in a long breath, filling her lungs with fresh sea air, and then slowly she released it. Yes, this was just what she needed.

After several minutes, Clark returned with the picnic basket and the other camp stool. He was slightly out of breath, and she rose to help him. Once again, she remembered they were getting older.

“Would you like the full tour?” he asked eagerly.

“The full tour?”

“Of the property?”

She shrugged with uncertainty. It seemed quite nice right here. “Sure. Is there more to see?”

He took her hand. “It's not a large piece. Just a bit more than an acre.” Now he led her around the brushy area, walking along the property lines as best he could make out according to the corner posts that someone had set up. She wondered why it mattered and why he seemed so enthused. Surely, he wasn't considering purchasing this property. More likely, it belonged to a friend in town. Perhaps someone looking for some building advice.

“I figure a septic tank could go in there,” he told her. “Since it's the least rocky spot. And over there, where you were sitting, would be the perfect spot for a house.”

Now she wondered if the property owner had talked Clark into building for him. Clark used to build houses. But he'd given that all up when they'd married. He'd seemed happy to be her partner, and he'd been invaluable when it came to building up the inn.

But was it possible that he was getting an urge to build something bigger than a cabin or even a store now? Something more impressive and challenging perhaps? And, for whatever reason, this hurt to consider. Did he really plan to tackle a project like this? For Clark to take time away from the inn to build for someone else . . . well, what could it possibly mean?

Still, she said nothing regarding her feelings as she continued to follow him around. Apparently, he'd given a lot of thought to this property and how to best optimize it. She did her best to listen as he talked about the placement of rooms and observation decks and the size of windows, how to get the best views, the best sunlight, where he would build a glass wall to block the ocean breezes. But like the breeze, it mostly went right over her head, floating away into the clear blue sky.

She knew it was selfishness on her part, but all she could hear was that Clark was choosing someone else—someone to build a lovely home for—choosing someone's needs over hers. Where would the inn be without Clark? Where would she be?

By the time they returned to their camp chairs, Anna felt close to tears. On one hand, she could understand his enthusiasm for a project like this. It was so unlike the buildings he'd been working on at the inn. The little cabins were sweet, but they were all quite small and fairly rustic. Plus, they were all nearly identical. How much of a challenge could that have been
for him? She knew he'd built some lovely houses in his time. Why wouldn't he want to do it again? Especially before he was too old. She wondered why he hadn't mentioned a desire to do something different long before this. Perhaps she could've prepared herself for it.

Yet, at the same time, she knew that most men his age were retired or planning for retirement. Oh, certainly, Clark was young for being in his mid-sixties. But even so, Anna couldn't grasp what had motivated him to take something like this on. What did it really mean? Was he unsatisfied with their life? With her?

Busy laying out the plaid picnic blanket, Clark removed items from the picnic basket, carefully setting them out. It was actually quite a lovely scene, almost photogenic, as he set out a bottle of Chianti, a chunk of cheese, a couple of apples, and a loaf of bread that he must've sneaked from the kitchen this morning. Despite her angst, she couldn't help but feel amused by this. “Did you bring a book of verse as well?” she asked in a slightly teasing tone.

His eyes twinkled. “Only the verses that are written on my heart.”

“This is all very lovely, Clark.” She studied him as he uncorked the bottle. “I don't know what to say.”

“You can start by telling me what you think of this property.” He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her with an expectant expression.

“Well, I . . . uh, I don't know where to begin.”

His brow creased as he filled the second glass. “What do you mean?”

She looked around the property and sighed. “It's obviously a beautiful place to build a beautiful home. I've no doubt that someone will love it very much.”

“But not you?” He frowned. “You mean you don't like it?”

“Of course, I like it, Clark. It's an amazing view.”

“And you don't think a house . . . like I described . . . would be perfect here?”

“Yes. It sounds perfectly lovely.” She looked down at her glass, seeing the reflection of a lone cloud floating over its surface.

“But you don't really like it?”

She looked back up at him. “I guess I'm just curious, Clark. Who are you building this house for?”

He brightened. “For us, darling. Did I forget to mention that tiny detail?”

She blinked. “
For us?
”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “At first I thought I'd just surprise you with the house.”

“Surprise me with a house?” She was shocked.

“Yes. I imagined sneaking out here and building a house, you know over the course of the next six months or so. And then one day I'd bring you out here and show it to you—and hand you the key.”

Anna felt more than a little confused. “But who owns this land?”

He grinned. “I do. Or, I should say, we do.”

“How is that possible?”

Now he explained how he'd been in town discussing plans for the store with a building official when someone told him about this piece of property for sale. “So I came out to see it and fell in love. I made an offer and it was accepted.”

Anna was dumbfounded. “And you bought it? Just like that?”

He nodded eagerly. “I got a great deal, too. Another guy was interested so I had to move fast. But when I told the owner mine was a cash offer, he couldn't say no.”

“You did all this without even discussing it with me?”

Now he looked slightly dismayed. “You don't like it, do you?”

“Oh, Clark.” She stood now, walking as she talked. “It's a beautiful piece of land. But I just don't get it. Why would you do something like this—something this big without even asking my opinion on it?”

“Because I knew you'd love it?”

She took a sip of wine, trying to gather her thoughts. She didn't know why she was reacting like this. Really, it was a sweet gesture. But for him to leave her out of it . . . well, it just didn't sit well.

He came over to stand next to her. “I wanted to surprise you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I'm surprised . . . all right.”

“Are you mad?”

She turned to look into his eyes. She didn't want to hurt him. But at the same time she felt hurt. “I'm not mad, Clark. Just confused . . . and, well, I'm hurt that you left me out of the decision.”

He let out a long sigh, turning away from her. And now she knew that she'd hurt him, too. “It's a beautiful piece of property, Clark, but I don't understand how we can possibly use it . . . and another house. I feel like we have our hands full already.”

He turned and looked hopefully at her. “That's just it, Anna. I thought this could be our little getaway spot.”

“But I don't see how . . . I mean, how can you possibly have enough time to build this house? And to build the store too? And there's Sarah's cabin as well. Not to mention the daily maintenance at the inn. It just feels impossible to me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it doesn't feel impossible to me.”

She wanted to question him on the expense too. How could they possibly afford this? Sure, the inn was prospering, but
they were putting almost everything back into it. And there were taxes and bills and other expenses. Some of the cabins were already getting old and in need of updates and improvements. Especially if they wanted the kitchens to be more efficient for when they discontinued meal service. How could he possibly manage to do it all? For that matter how could she? Really, it was overwhelming.

“I can see I've frustrated you with this,” he said solemnly. “Maybe we should just forget about it.”

“Or maybe we should discuss it further,” she said.

But already he was tossing out his untouched wine, repacking the picnic things, and just like that, they were loaded up and heading back down the steep hill. Without speaking, he set the basket and camp stools in the boat then helped Anna in as well. Soon the motor was going full bore, and Clark directed the craft straight up the river, barely slowing down for the speed limit as they went beneath the bridge and then on toward home. At this rate, they would be there in time for dinner. And Anna could help as usual. Not that she wanted to. Why had he done this?

The dinner hour passed awkwardly. Clark said only a few words to Anna. On top of that, Hazel was quieter than usual and still looked a little under the weather. Perhaps worst of all was how Sarah seemed to be treating Lauren. As Sarah helped Janelle and Diane serve food in the dining room, she went out of her way to avoid her mother, and if she had to be near her, she gave Lauren the most chilling looks. It was as if Sarah was seething inside.

Anna wondered how it was possible for a young person to be filled with so much hatred. Even as a child, during those
years of sadness and neglect, Sarah had never been bitter like this. What could've brought it on at this stage of life? As Anna helped clear the table, she wondered if it might be related to the time Sarah had spent at the commune. She knew that Sarah had been taught some strange things. Was it possible she'd been taught to hate as well? And, if so, how could Anna help her get beyond it? Bitterness never helped anything . . . or anyone.

Anna watched as Clark helped his mother up from the table. Supporting her arm in his, he slowly walked her out of the dining hall. Such a good son and such a good husband, too. Why had Anna reacted so negatively to his “surprise”? She wished she could go back and do the afternoon differently. But at least she could straighten this out with him.

Always when they'd had disagreements in the past—and those had been few and far between—they would smooth it out before bedtime. She had no doubt this misunderstanding would be worked out as well. As Anna set a stack of plates on the counter, she noticed Lauren motioning to her from the other side of the dining room. Seeing that Sarah was preoccupied with loading the dishwasher, Anna discreetly went over to see what Lauren needed.

“Can we talk?” Lauren asked quietly.