The Inn at Angel Island (10 page)

“You have to be pretty self-reliant to live out here,” Liza agreed. “It’s not for the faint of heart, especially in the winter.”

“The winters are hard. There’s less work. And it can be hard on the soul, all the solitude and quiet. For some people, I mean.”

From her tone, Liza didn’t think Claire counted herself among those who were disturbed by the solitude. She seemed so self-sufficient and had such equanimity. But Liza still wondered if she lived all alone. Wasn’t there somebody in her life?

Was there someone in Daniel’s life? That question seemed even more interesting to her right now.

“I imagine it’s hard to support a family out here, even if both partners work.” Liza paused. “What does Daniel’s wife do?”

Claire looked up, her expression one of surprise. “Daniel isn’t married. He doesn’t have a wife.”

Liza smothered a smile. “Really? I thought he mentioned something about a wife.”

Okay, it was a bald-faced fib, but she couldn’t help it. It had slipped out as she tried to cover her tracks.

“You must have misunderstood him.”

“Yes, I must have,” Liza agreed. She sensed that Claire knew she had fibbed but was too polite to call her on it.

So, the handsome jack-of-all-trades was single. But that didn’t mean he was without a relationship. A man who looked like that
had to
be in a relationship. On this small island, he would have his pick of single women, Liza was sure. Or perhaps he liked playing the field and was the commitment-phobic type . . .

Liza caught herself, surprised by the direction of her thoughts. In the many months that she and Jeff had been separated and then finally divorced, she hadn’t thought much at all about dating. No one had really caught her eye, though she had met a few single men through work and well-meaning friends who had dragged her out to restaurants and parties.

Liza knew she wasn’t ready to take that step yet. She still felt attached to Jeff in a way. Not really married anymore—but not entirely separated either. That was more his doing than hers. It seemed he just couldn’t let go, even though he was the one who ruined it for them.

“Care for some more chicken pie?” Claire’s question broke into her rambling thoughts.

“No, thanks. It was perfect, though,” Liza said, “ just like Aunt Elizabeth’s.”

Claire seemed pleased by the compliment. “I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as good. But thank you for saying that. There’s some dessert if you’d like. A chocolate pudding pie. It’s in the fridge.”

Another one of her aunt’s specialties. A graham cracker crust filled with rich chocolate pudding and covered with whipped cream. Easy to make, deadly to eat.

Liza sighed. “I’m going to put on twenty pounds if I don’t watch out.”

Claire glanced at her and laughed. “Even if you did, it would hardly show at all.”

Not in the baggy sweats or jeans she had pulled from the charity bag to wear around the inn. But getting back into her sleek business suits and spandex gym clothes would be a challenge.

“I think I’ll pass on dessert for now,” she said finally. “Peter and Will will be here tomorrow. I’m sure that pie won’t go to waste.”

Liza helped Claire clear the table and clean up. There wasn’t much to do. Claire was the type of cook who cleaned as she went and didn’t leave a huge mess at the end. Unlike Liza, who couldn’t manage to scramble an egg without using every pot and utensil she owned. Cooking had never been her forte.

Claire closed the dishwasher and turned it on. “Looks like we’re all done. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem. Thanks for dinner.”

Claire nodded. “Do you need anything more?”

“I don’t think so.” Liza watched as Claire gathered her things, slipping on her down parka and taking a canvas tote from a hook behind the kitchen door.

“I’ll be off then. See you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to meeting your brother and your nephew,” she added.

“They’re looking forward to coming here. Well, my brother is. I’m not so sure about Will.”

Claire stood at the back door. “He’ll be fine. This place will do him good.” She nodded to herself, then went out the door.

Liza hoped the prediction was true. Claire had a way of sounding so certain of things. Liza wondered where it came from, that sense of knowing, of certainty. She felt in awe of it—and suspicious of it.

Nobody could feel that grounded and sure of things, not with the way the world was these days. Her aunt, too, had had a touch of that inner certainty. Not as much as Claire, but more and more as she had grown older.

Where did this certainty come from? Liza only wished she knew. If she could bottle it, she’d make a million.

Chapter Four

L
IZA woke to the sound of rain pounding against the building. The spring storms on the island could be fierce, but this one sounded like a hurricane.

She jumped out of bed and ran to the window—then realized she heard not only water but men and machinery. Outside the building, on the front lawn just below, she saw Daniel Merritt and a helper, both wearing big gloves and goggles. They were working with some sort of water equipment, with a hose and a pointed nozzle aimed at the house.

Power washing, she realized. The preparation for the painting had begun. Daniel certainly didn’t waste time. She had called him back last night about the estimate. The price seemed reasonable and the timing fast enough. He had said he would start with power washing to strip off the old paint. But she had not understood that meant he would start before eight a.m., and it would sound and feel as if the house were under attack.

Liza took a fast shower and pulled on her jeans and a black turtleneck, a somewhat more attractive outfit than he had seen her in yesterday but not nice enough to look as if she had gone to any special trouble. She hoped.

Just to make sure, she pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail and left her face bare of makeup.

It was too early to call the office. No one important showed up before nine. She looked around for her BlackBerry. It was on the nightstand next to a seashell she had found in her pocket last night, one she had picked up during her walk on the beach.

Now she took a moment to look at the shell, turning it over in her hand. The spiral structure was so smooth and unified, so perfect. She could understand why certain artists, like Georgia O’Keeffe for instance, had been fascinated by spirals and other organic shapes found in nature.

A few moments later, she laid the shell down and picked up the BlackBerry, then slipped it into her back pocket.

There was a hot pot of coffee waiting in the kitchen. Liza saw Claire’s parka and tote bag on a chair, but Claire wasn’t in sight. Liza poured herself a full mug and sat at the table, where a copy of the local paper,
The Cape Light Messenger
, lay open.

She scanned the headlines. There was a photo of the island’s mayor breaking ground for the new park on the island. “Mayor Joe Gilroy breaks ground for Lighthouse Park on Angel Island. Mayor Emily Warwick of Cape Light and Mayor Noah Simms of Newburyport stand by. The park will be built adjacent to Lighthouse Beach and recreation area, with direct ferry service from the town dock in Newburyport. Plans include a sports center with tennis and basketball courts, luxury locker rooms, and a café.”

Luxury locker rooms? That sounded pretty high-end for this island. Changes were definitely coming.

A sharp rap on the window of the kitchen door roused her.

Liza got up, expecting to see Claire, and found herself looking at Daniel Merritt. At some point while she had been reading the paper the machinery sound had stopped, she realized.

She opened the door, wondering why her heart had started racing. Too much black coffee on an empty stomach, she told herself. But when Daniel greeted her with a wide smile, she knew that coffee was not the problem.

“So, you got an early start,” she said as he walked in.

“Yep. We’re about halfway done. Sorry for the noise.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t want to hear myself think today anyway.”

He smiled at her joke. “I know what you mean. Whenever I get in one of those moods, I just turn the thing on and give myself a splitting headache. That keeps me from thinking too much.”

“That would do it,” she agreed, wondering what sort of concerns he had weighing on his mind. “Would you like some coffee?” She gestured toward the pot and mugs on the countertop.

“Sure, thanks.” He stepped over and poured a cup, then added milk and sugar—the complete opposite of the way she drank it.
I could live with that,
Liza decided with a secret grin.
Nobody’s perfect
.

“Have a muffin,” she said, pushing the dish toward him. “Claire made them this morning.”

“In that case, I definitely will.” He took a muffin on a napkin, then took a bite. “Banana. One of her best.”

“She made oatmeal raisin yesterday. They were pretty amazing, too.”

They sat for a moment without talking. Daniel noticed the newspaper. “Keeping up with current events?”

“Trying to,” Liza said between bites. “There’s a lot of good news in here, especially compared to what you see in the Boston papers every day.”

Daniel turned the paper to read the front-page story. “Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t call building an Olympic stadium on this island good news.”

“You mean the sports center?” Liza asked just to clarify. He was getting a bit carried away, wasn’t he?

“That’s right. Whatever they want to call it, it’s a huge waste of money. The county could put the funds to much better use. Or build it someplace else, where more people will have access. It will be underutilized out here.”

Liza was not surprised by his reaction. He had already made his feeling about the development of the island clear.

“What about all the new visitors who are coming over on that ferry this summer? Won’t they use it?”

Daniel shrugged. “People always came to this island because it didn’t have places like that.” He glanced at the article again. “Luxury locker rooms?”

She laughed at his expression. “I noticed that, too. It does sound a bit much.”

“If you want luxury locker rooms, go to a country club or a fancy spa or something. Don’t come out here. That’s not the point of this place. Or it shouldn’t be.”

“I see your point,” she said quietly. When Fran Tulley first told her about the island’s planned development, Liza thought it was a good thing, a lucky break that would make the inn more marketable. But now that she was back and had gotten to know the island again, with sand in her shoes and salt breezes tangling her hair, she wasn’t so sure. She could see Daniel’s side of it, too. Some things—some places—were meant to stay wild and rough. They didn’t need to be “improved.”

But who would stop it? The plan had already been set into motion. She gave herself a mental shake. She would be leaving in a little over a week. No sense getting all caught up in a battle she couldn’t fight.

“So, when will you start painting?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The clapboard needs to dry out for about two days. And we have to do some prep work—scrape a bit more and fill in some cracks. You said you didn’t want a perfect job, so we’re not going to go crazy on that phase.”

“That’s right, just the minimum will be fine.”

“One coat of primer, one coat of paint. It’s all in the contract . . .” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “That’s why I came in here in the first place. You made me lose track.”

He smiled at her, and she knew that he hadn’t meant it in a bad way.

Liza pulled open the envelope. The letterhead at the top of the page read “Merritt General Contracting” in large bold letters. Very official sounding, considering it was just him and a helper.

She scanned the contract. Everything they had discussed over the phone seemed to be written down, and the price was the same as well. But she did need a few minutes to read it over carefully. Without him staring at her. That was definitely distracting.

“Do you need this back right away? I’d like to take a minute later and read it carefully.”

“Sure, take your time. No rush.” He sat back in his seat. “How is the clearing-out process going? Is Claire letting you throw anything away?”

Liza smiled at him. “We have a magic question. It helps a lot.”

“A magic question. That sounds interesting. I could use one of those.” He smiled curiously, looking extremely charming. “Can you disclose this magic question—or will that ruin the magic?”

Liza laughed. She knew she was flirting with him, pretty obviously now, but she couldn’t help it.

“I don’t think it will ruin the magic. I mean, I hope not. It’s really pretty simple. Whenever we get stuck trying to decide what to do with something, one person asks the other, ‘Save, discard, or give away?’ ”

“And the other person has to answer?”

Liza nodded. “That’s right. It’s sort of a game, I guess. It certainly makes the work go faster.”

“That’s a good thing, then. But I’d bet that Claire mostly answers ‘save,’ ” he replied with a grin. “I do know she likes to hang on to things until they’re just about falling apart in your hands. You should have seen the broom she handed me one day to sweep up some sawdust.” He leaned closer, aware that the housekeeper might be around. Liza leaned closer, too, suddenly very conscious of his nearness. “It hardly had two straws left in it. I was standing there, sweeping the thin air.”

She could picture it. Especially from what she’d seen yesterday. She laughed at the story, and he did, too.

“What are you two laughing about—something in the newspaper?” Claire came into the kitchen, and they quickly sat back and exchanged a look.

“It’s Mayor Warwick,” Daniel answered, quickly covering their tracks. “She’s always running around, getting herself in the newspaper. Her daughter doesn’t even work for the
Messenger
anymore, and she’s still on the front page every day.”