The Wedding Promise (13 page)

Liza found the big binder on the countertop, tucked next to the row of white canisters that held loose tea, sugar, flour, and other necessities.

Liza handled the thick, messy book carefully. The black cover was worn and tattered, the pages dotted with stains of sauces and soups and marked with notations in Claire’s familiar hand—“extra Worcestershire and horseradish” or “buttermilk better.” Next to the list of ingredients for her famous crab cakes—“one egg beaten is okay.”

Liza felt as if she were reading something very private, like a diary. That was silly but, in a way, true. These were Claire’s trade secrets at the very least.

There didn’t seem to be an order in the book at first. Then Liza came to a thick wad of dessert recipes with a clip on top.

“Eureka,” she said under her breath.

The first few were too hard. Liza wasn’t about to tackle making a pie crust from scratch. She skipped a mousse recipe entirely—too many steps.

Finally, she found one that looked easy enough. All it said on top was, “Very Good Crumble.” Reading it through, Liza recalled Claire making the dish in late winter when apples and pears were in season.

Some fruit was mixed with sugar, spices, and a little flour, then you made crumbs with butter and sugar that you spread on top, then baked it all together. She even had cream in the fridge to whip for a topping.

This could be good, Liza decided as she searched the cabinets for a suitable pan. She’d often heard that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She figured her chances were probably double, using one of Claire’s recipes.

The dessert had to bake only half an hour, which left Liza time to shower, rest, and dress. She searched her closets, looking for a casual but attractive outfit. Most of her wardrobe was left over from her office days and seemed too formal for the island. But among her summer clothes still at the back of the closet, she finally found a graceful skirt and a soft, sleeveless top with a draped neckline. She wore her long dark hair down and slipped on a necklace and silver bracelets. It was still warm out, but she took a thin Pashmina shawl along for later, knowing it would cool down at night.

The directions to Daniel’s house were simple. The island had only two main roads, one that ran north and south and the other, that ran east and west. The east–west road connected to the land bridge that brought you to the mainland, west of the island. Daniel lived on the southwest coast, along a little peninsula that stuck out in the ocean called Thompson’s Bend.

If viewed from above, the topography of the island did look a bit like a winged figure, especially if you used your imagination and were inclined to believe the island’s legend.

Living at the inn, Liza didn’t often think about the legend but now, approaching the remote corner of the island, the entire notion seemed more believable. The landscape was flat and empty. The sky seemed so vast, merging with the sea. Even the air seemed clearer and full of soft, radiant light.

The island was unique, she had no doubt, and she could easily believe it was a place touched by the powers above, a place that was closer to heaven somehow than the rest of the world. She did think there was something to the idea that the island was a place for healing. Liza knew she had come here with a battered spirit, full of doubt and even fear. But her months on the island had healed and restored her, even if she hadn’t met any angels—at least none that she was aware of. Then again, her aunt and uncle had put a plaque near the entrance of the inn, with a saying from the Bible:
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware. Hebrews: 13:2.

So maybe she had come across some angels in disguise. Liza certainly felt as if she was doing what she was meant to do, living out her dream. The Bennet wedding was a sign, she thought as she glanced at the sun sinking low over the sea. A sign that she was on the right track.

And so was this unexpected invitation from Daniel, she hoped.

A
s Liza arrived at Thompson’s Bend she drove up a narrow road flanked by tall beach grass and trees, and a mass of low cottages came into view. The main road branched off into narrow cobblestone lanes with quaint names, like Teapot and even Fish Bone.

Daniel lived on Hasty Lane, number seven. She made a right hand turn at the corner and drove along, looking for the number on fence posts and mailboxes. She could already tell his cottage would be on the left side of the street, with a view of the ocean in back.

When she found it, she pulled into the narrow drive and parked behind his truck. The house was beautiful but in a decidedly masculine way. She couldn’t really say what style it was—a cottage but not like the other white, rose-covered cottages on the lane. It was possibly built in the Craftsman style, but it wasn’t a pedigree of that school either.

Like so many of the houses in coastal New England villages, its weathered shingles were dark brown, and the trim and shutters painted gray blue, colors that made the small house seem to blend perfectly with its surroundings, as if the little cottage had sprouted up, right on that shady spot.

The front yard was bordered by trees and the garden planted with lush green hostas and other plants that thrived in the deep shade. The windows and front door, which appeared to be part of a recent renovation, hinted at Mission style within, which Liza thought would suit Daniel perfectly.

As she took her shawl and the dessert from the backseat, Daniel appeared at the door. He was wearing khaki shorts and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had acquired a tan from working outdoors the last few days, and his smile flashed white and even against his lean, tanned face. He looked very at home and very handsome, she thought.

He met her halfway down the walk and gave her a quick, friendly kiss hello on her cheek. Liza kissed him back, and her heart skipped a beat.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the pan. “You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“It’s just some dessert.”

“Actually, you did need to bring that,” he admitted. “I forgot all about dessert, and we’re pretty far from any stores.”

“You’re far from everything. It looks like the edge of the world out there,” she teased him.

“It might be,” he said with a laugh. “So, what’s in the pan? It smells good.” He lifted the corner of the foil and took a peek.

“A crumble with different kinds of berries, one of Claire’s recipes. She just calls it ‘Very Good Crumble.’ ”

“I’m sure it will be. Come on in, everything is ready.”

He smiled at her again, and she could tell he was happy to see her. She felt happy, too, as she followed him into the house.

“Let’s sit outside. It’s much cooler. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Daniel disappeared into the kitchen, giving Liza a chance to look around. The main room was a spacious living room–dining room combination with a row of French doors that framed an ocean view.

The beamed ceiling was low, and the living room had a rustic hearth with a mantel made of smooth gray stones. Liza could imagine the cottage being very cozy and comfortable in the winter as storms raged outside.

The furnishings were dark and masculine-looking but stylish, she thought. A brown couch covered with kilim-patterned pillows and a big leather armchair sat near a standing brass reading lamp. There was also a rocking chair made of bent tree boughs, and covering the polished wood floor, an oval area rug with a traditional pattern.

She sensed Daniel’s hand in the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that covered one wall, filled with titles on a wide range of nonfiction subjects, as well as novels. A few shelves held interesting extras—sparkling geodes and carved figures from Native American lore.

There weren’t any photographs, Liza noticed. Then she saw one in a small frame and picked it up to get a closer look. It was taken on a beach, at the shoreline. A man and a woman stood on either side of a little boy and tugged on his arms, lifting him high in the air as he jumped over a frothy breaker. Everyone looked happy and carefree. The little boy, especially, looked ecstatic.

Liza took a closer look at the child’s face. She couldn’t say for sure, of course, but she had a good guess that it was Daniel. Something about the eyes and the smile. He’d certainly been a cute kid.

“Liza, would you like to sit outside?”

Liza turned at the sound of Daniel’s voice. She wondered how long he’d been standing there, watching her. She quickly put the picture back where she’d found it. She wasn’t sure why, but something in his expression made her decide not to ask if it was a family photograph.

“It gets a little warm in here. I don’t have air-conditioning,” he added.

“You don’t need it with these great breezes,” she said.

He stepped back and let her walk through the door first.

There was a table with an umbrella set up on a brick patio and a short distance away, a large outdoor grill that held a big stainless steel stockpot. Liza could see that the fire underneath was hot, and whatever was cooking under the lid was letting out a steady stream of steam.

The backyard wasn’t very deep; it ended abruptly on a cliff that looked out over a narrow strip of beach. Liza walked to the edge of the lawn and gazed down.

“Wow . . .” She looked back at him. “I bet you don’t throw too many big parties back here.”

“No, I don’t. Too risky,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t have many guests at all. You’re the first in a long time.”

Liza didn’t know what to say to that, though his admission did make her feel special.

“I’ve thought about putting a fence up. But I don’t want to ruin the view. The sunsets are spectacular.”

“I’ll bet they are.” She was looking forward to watching the sunset here tonight. With him.

She walked back and sat at the small table across from him.

Daniel had set out two glasses of white wine and a platter with cold shrimp and two kinds of sauce, one red and one white.

She tried one of the shrimp with red sauce. The sauce was pleasantly spicy, and the shrimp tasted fresh and sweet.

“What were you up to today? Besides booking weddings, I mean?” he asked her.

“Except for the Bennets stopping by—and shocking me clear out of my socks—I started to work on the back garden. I let it go too long. What a mess.”

“That’s a big job.”

“And a dirty one,” she finished for him. “But somebody has to do it. I put in a few good hours and it looks much better. At least the plants coming up have some room to grow now.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “Flowers are subtle touches. If they aren’t there, many people wouldn’t notice. But when you do step into a beautiful garden, it’s like walking into a magical world or something.”

“That’s what it used to be like when my aunt and uncle were strong enough to keep up with the work. I’d like to make it look like that again, if I can. Once I get all the beds filled, I want to put in some interesting touches. Maybe a pond way in the back and a shade garden, where guests can read and relax. . . . All I need now is someone handy who could do that for me,” she teased him. “Any recommendations?”

He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think I know a guy who would work out just fine.”

I think I do, too
, Liza nearly answered. But she caught herself just in time.

Daniel grabbed a pot holder off the table. “Excuse me a second, I think I’d better check the food.”

He rose and headed over to the big outdoor stove. Liza watched as he lifted the lid and checked the contents.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked curiously.

“A lot of stuff,” he replied. “I hope you like it. I have a pretty simple approach to cooking. Just put it all in a pot and hope for the best.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m pretty hungry.”

“Just what I like to hear. Let me get the plates and we can start right in.”

“Let me help you,” Liza offered.

They went back into the house and gathered the plates and utensils on a tray. Daniel’s kitchen was small but looked well used, despite his disclaimer about his cooking skills. A big rack of worn pots hung from the ceiling above the stove, and shelves held rows of seasonings and spices.

They quickly set the table outside, and Daniel headed over to the cooking pot. With mitts on both hands, he took the lid off and carefully tipped out some hot water. “Looks like we’re in business. Why don’t you bring over those big bowls?”

Liza brought the bowls, and Daniel began to empty the pot, sorting the contents into the bowls. “We have some clams and mussels. And some corn and potatoes and, last but not least, a few lovely lobsters. I know a guy down the street who’s a fisherman. He caught all this stuff this morning.”

“Daniel, what a feast!” Liza was in awe. “How are we ever going to eat all this?”

He laughed and grabbed two of the bowls, leaving her to carry the lobsters on the plates. “I’m bad with amounts,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind leftovers. It won’t go to waste.”

Liza laughed. “Looks like you’ll be eating lobster rolls for a week.”

They dug in with relish, neither talking much for a while. Daniel had to help her crack some of the tough shells. He did it easily in his large, strong hands.

“So, what’s this about some list of repairs the bride’s mother gave you?” Daniel asked her.

“It’s pretty long,” Liza reported. “I’m not sure you can manage it all by the wedding date.”

“Which is?”

“June nineteenth.”

Daniel’s mouth was full but his eyebrows jumped up. “Wow, that is soon,” he said. “Today is May fourteenth, so that’s—a little more than a month away?”

“Thirty-six days, to be precise.” Liza had already counted. “I’ll get the list. You can tell me what you think.”

Liza wiped her hands, then found her purse in the living room and quickly returned. She handed the sheet to Daniel and stood behind him as he read it aloud. She was tempted to rest her hands on his broad shoulders but somehow resisted the urge.