Rose Harbor in Bloom (33 page)

When Amanda spoke of her parents, thanking them for their love and support, Mary looked to George and relaxed enough to smile.

“What most of you don’t know,” Amanda continued, “is that I have a second set of parents. My birth parents.”

Mary sucked in her breath and held it. George’s hand tightened around hers to the point of causing her pain.

“They are the ones responsible for giving me life,” she continued.
“They chose, for whatever reasons, to put me up for adoption. I was placed in a loving home with a family that nurtured and treasured me. Although I don’t know my birth parents or why they chose not to raise me themselves, I will forever be grateful for being adopted by the Palmers.”

The speech ended with a huge round of applause. Mary dabbed at the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes, hoping she wasn’t being obvious. When she dared to sneak a look at George, she saw that he, too, had tears.

The names of the students were recited one by one, and although the audience was instructed to wait until all the names were read and all the graduation certificates were given out before applauding, few heeded the request. Parents and friends whistled or called out the names of their loved ones almost routinely.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to announce the names of all six hundred graduates. The line moved efficiently and effectively. And when the ceremony was over, tradition was followed and the students hurled their caps into the air. The closing music started as the class filed out.

As soon as the last graduate had left the auditorium, family and friends stood to leave. A mad tangle of people made their way to the exits, mingling with students who stood outside the doors waiting to meet their loved ones.

Mary and George moved at a snail’s pace toward the exit. The entire time, George kept Mary protectively close to his side. Once out of the building, it seemed everyone moved in opposite directions. Parents searched for their graduating seniors, and graduating seniors searched for their parents.

“Beth,” someone shouted right next to Mary, practically yelling in her ear, “wait up.”

“Grad party starts at seven,” an adult shouted out the reminder to someone else.

“Excuse me, excuse me.” A student tried to finagle her way past
George, and in her rush nearly stumbled. George caught her arm, preventing her from falling.

It was Amanda.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I step on your foot?” she asked George apologetically.

For one horrible moment, Mary thought she would burst into tears.

The three of them stood, facing one another like rocks in the middle of a river with the crowd flowing around and past them.

Mary’s tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have managed to squeeze out a single syllable had her future depended on it.

“No,” George said, and then quickly added, “That was a wonderful speech.” He glanced toward Mary. “Wasn’t it?”

Mary was too badly shaken to answer the question.

“Thank you.” Amanda beamed at his praise, smiling at them both. “I rewrote it several times. I couldn’t decide which version to use until the last minute. Even my mom didn’t know which one I would choose.”

The spell broke, and Mary smiled. “It was perfect, well thought out; you said what your family and friends most needed to hear.”

“Oh, thank you.” Her eyes left Mary’s and searched the crowd. “Excuse me. I think I see my parents.”

“Of course.” Mary scooted aside just in time to see the Palmer family making its way toward Amanda.

The parents were nearly shoved into Mary and George as people rushed past.

“Hello,” Amanda’s mother said. “Sorry to steal her away, but we have a family party planned.”

“Oh, no, we just wanted to tell her what a wonderful talk she gave.”

“Amanda gave us far too much credit,” Mrs. Palmer continued. “She worked hard for her grades. We’re so very proud of her.”

“As you should be,” George said.

“Do you have a child graduating?” Mrs. Palmer asked.

Mary and George glanced at each other and George smiled. “Yes, we do, and we’re very proud of her, too.”

“Who is it?” Amanda asked.

“Honey, we need to go,” Mr. Palmer said before George could answer. Almost right away, the Palmers left and George carefully steered Mary through the throng and into the parking lot. They found their car and then spent the next forty minutes waiting for their turn to exit.

For the entire length of time, neither spoke. For her part, Mary needed time to absorb what had happened.

She had spoken to her daughter. Face-to-face.

Without even knowing it, Amanda had just met her birth parents.

When George pulled into the turn that would take them to Rose Harbor Inn, he said, “She’s petite, like my mother.”

“And mine.”

“And beautiful, so beautiful, just like her mother.”

He pulled into the parking space at the inn and turned off the engine. Neither moved.

“Thank you,” Mary whispered.

George reached for her hand. “It wasn’t a problem getting the tickets. All I had to do was …”

“I’m not thanking you for that. I’m thanking you for loving me, for being a part of my life, for standing by my side these last few days. I have treasured every minute of our time together.”

“It doesn’t have to end …”

“It does.”

“I want you to stay in Seattle. Move in with me; I’ll make sure you get in to all the right doctors, and—”

“No,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “I can’t, George. My home is in New York.” Mary refused to saddle him with what she
would face in the future. Perhaps she might return if she were fortunate enough to go into remission. But she ardently refused to subject George to what lay ahead for her, not knowing if her treatments would be successful.

“So you’re shoving me out of your life again. Is that what you want, Mary? After everything we’ve shared, this is what you honestly want?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “I’m sorry, but yes.”

“So this is good-bye, just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered brokenly. “This is good-bye.”

“I don’t think so.”

“George, please …”

“Do you love me?” he asked her point-blank.

She looked away. “You know I do.”

“Then tell me why you can’t put me first for once and give me what I have always wanted, and that’s you.”

“George, please.” She hated that he made this so difficult. “I could be dying.”

“Even if you are terminal, are you telling me you’d rather die alone than be with me?”

She didn’t answer him, because she couldn’t. She had cancer, and as much as she loved him and wanted to be with him, she refused to subject him to this ordeal.

They argued a bit more, and she made one small concession. He could drive her to the airport. They set a time to meet.

At the inn now, he helped her out of the car, but she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she got out under her own power, collected her shawl and purse, and then, with her head held high and her heart breaking, walked away without looking back.

I had been in a mad rush, getting all the sheets changed and the rooms cleaned before the open house. With my mind going in five different directions, it was a wonder I’d managed to do it all, and in record time. Normally, I’d have Hailey’s help, but her graduation from high school was scheduled for this afternoon, and I knew she’d be too busy with visiting relatives. I didn’t feel I could ask her for help.

The cookies I’d baked over the better part of a week were artfully arranged on colorful ceramic plates around a large white vase filled with budding red roses. I set everything out on the dining room table. On the sideboard I’d placed pitchers of iced tea and large urns of both coffee and tea alongside plates and cups and utensils. Stepping back, I surveyed the arrangement and felt a sense
of satisfaction. The table looked just as I’d hoped it would, simple and stylish.

I wished dressing myself had been as easy as decorating the table. The business suits I’d worn while working for the bank were too dressy, too off-putting for someone who owned a B&B. But my usual jeans and bib apron were too casual. I was going for a look that was professional but at the same time welcoming. After changing clothes two or three times, I’d finally settled on a white skirt with a matching jacket. The blouse was pink silk, with pearl buttons. Rover had watched me quizzically when I asked him for his opinion. Frankly, he was no help whatsoever.

Rover was napping in the laundry room, the refreshments were out, and the drinks were ready to be poured. All I had to do now was wait for my guests to arrive. I nervously paced from room to room, checking and rechecking to be sure all was in order. Oh, how I wished I had scheduled this for later in the year, summertime or even autumn. Peggy Beldon from The Thyme and Tide had encouraged me not to wait, though, claiming that if I put it off until I was satisfied, then it would probably never happen. Instinctively, I knew she was right.

I’d made several small changes to the inn since taking it over from the Frelingers, the previous owners. Mark had built me a new oak mantel for the fireplace and done a lovely job. He’d replaced the railing on the front porch steps, too, and changed a couple of the light fixtures. He knew enough about electrical work and plumbing to make basic repairs, and I’d called on him a number of times.

I had come to love Cedar Cove. Although I’d lived in this town for only five months, it felt like home. I’d made friends and enjoyed becoming part of the business community. And I loved this inn. I’d found a certain measure of peace here.

A car rolled into the driveway, interrupting my thoughts. My first guest had arrived. Right away, I recognized Olivia Griffin,
who had brought along her mother, Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes. I had to smile. I’d met Charlotte twice now, and both times she’d carried her knitting with her. She had it with her now, too.

Charlotte and her husband, Ben, had stopped by to introduce themselves shortly after I’d moved into the inn. We’d shared tea and the special scones she’d baked. While we chatted, she brought out her knitting and barely looked down as her fingers wove the yarn around the needles. As I recalled, she’d been working on a pair of socks for her son, Will.

I opened the door to welcome my friends.

“Are we the first ones here?” Olivia asked, looking very much the distinguished judge that she was. I hadn’t gotten to know her as well as her friend Grace, but I hoped we would have the opportunity, given time. She possessed the grace and style of a Jacqueline Kennedy or an Audrey Hepburn. I imagined she made a striking presence in the courtroom.

“I’m pleased you could make it,” I said, as I held open the door. Thankfully, the overcast skies from that morning had cleared, and the day, while cool, was sunny and bright. We’d had several days of sunshine, which wasn’t the norm, and I was grateful.

“Mom and I were looking forward to seeing the inn. Church got out a bit early, so we went to brunch at Justine’s restaurant. It seemed silly to take Mom back just to turn around a few minutes later to pick her up again.”

“Please, don’t worry. Your timing is perfect.”

“I’ve come to see what you’ve done with the place,” Charlotte said, looking around and nodding with approval. “I like the new sign and the name you chose: Rose Harbor Inn. Clever, seeing that your surname is Rose. Heard Mark Taylor made it for you.”

“Yes, he did. He’s done quite a bit of work for me.”

Charlotte looked over the table and fingered the crocheted lace tablecloth I used. “Good man, Mark. He’s done work for Ben and me, and always charged us a fair price.”

Talking about Mark gave me a twinge of guilt. I’d meant to check up on him this morning, not that he’d appreciate it, but time had gotten away from me and it had slipped my mind.

“I see you changed the pillows in the living room,” Olivia commented, glancing into the room.

“I rearranged several of the guest rooms, too.” Mark had helped me with moving furniture as well. As we spoke, I realized how big a role Mark had played in my life and that of the inn.

“I’m looking forward to seeing the rooms,” Charlotte commented.

Right away, Olivia glanced at the staircase. “Mom, you need an elevator. You shouldn’t be climbing stairs at your age.”

“Fiddlesticks. I can take the stairs.”

“Mom.”

Charlotte raised her hand in protest. “I’ll take them one at a time and go slow. I didn’t come to inspect the kitchen; I want to see what Jo Marie has done upstairs.”

Seeing that her mother was determined, Olivia capitulated. She took her mother’s arm and led her toward the staircase.

Sheriff Troy Davis and his wife, Faith, were the next to arrive. Sheriff Davis and I had both attended a charity auction and had bid against each other for a blue vase I thought would go perfectly in one of the guest rooms. He won, and later thanked me for bowing out. The vase was a gift for Faith. I hadn’t met Faith, so we took a few moments to chat and exchange pleasantries.

Jack Griffin, the judge’s husband, showed up in a battered fifteen-year-old Ford. He took the porch stairs two at a time and seemed to be in something of a rush. He wore a long raincoat and looked every inch the small-town newspaper editor he was. To complete the picture, all he needed was a felt hat and a pen and pad, which no doubt he had tucked away inside one of his coat pockets.

“Olivia here?” he asked, even before I had time to greet him.

“She’s upstairs with her mother.”

“Thanks.” He started toward the stairs, stopped, and looked back at me. “By the way, you’ve done a great job with the place.” His eyes fell on the table and the display of cookies.

“Those cookies look great,” he said, as if he was a man lost in a desert who spied an oasis.

“Help yourself.”

He shook his head, although clearly tempted. “Olivia will have my hide if I break this diet. She’s on this healthy-eating kick.” He walked over to the table in order to get a better look. “Peanut butter is healthy, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“According to Olivia, oatmeal is high in fiber,” he added.