Tiny Island Summer (8 page)

His mother had always been the most glittering, sparkling person he’d ever known. She’d had seemingly endless energy. She raised five boys alone after his father’s early death, ran her family’s charitable foundation, sat on the board of several nonprofits, and had a full social calendar of both the boys’ and her own events. He’d never known her to sit still before her diagnosis.

She’d been determined to fight the disease and had made no secret of her absolute horror at the idea of leaving behind her boys before seeing even one of them get married and have babies. She never complained and did not let anything affect her schedule or her commitments. Until one day, she suddenly had. She’d accepted the end. But it took several more months of practically living at the hospital before Ben had been able to see what she saw.

The fight with his brothers had been ugly. Old wounds had been reopened, conflicts resolved in boyhood revisited, and every dirty secret exposed. They were all scared of her dying and each handled it in his own way. The younger brothers had accused him of wanting to kill her for his inheritance. A laughable accusation considering that he’d had full access to his trust fund for the better part of a year, while the others had at least three to go before getting theirs, but a serious statement nonetheless.

John finally had stepped in as the oldest and her medical power of attorney to let Ben take her out of the hospital. He hadn’t agreed with the plan either. But John couldn’t stand to see the way her dying threatened to tear their family apart. He wanted to preserve their relationships.

“Help yourself,” she told Ben.

Ben nodded. He filled up one of the delicate china teacups, grabbed a saucer, and followed his mom into the formal dining room. He’d lived nearly his entire life in the grand old house, following Mom’s instruction on proper manners and how to comport himself. Only on vacations to the lake house did the brothers get to live as informally as the rest of the world. In Duluth, they dressed for meals, ate four-course dinners with ridiculous place settings, and behaved politely in a way many people had only seen in period movies.

“How are you feeling?” Ben began.

She blew out a sigh. “This whole conversation is boring me. Can we please talk about something besides my health?”

Ben stared at her blankly.

“How about you?”

Ben shrugged.

“Are you having a good summer with John?”

“So far.”

“Why is it always like pulling teeth to get you to talk? Come on, tell me all about it.”

“There’s not much to tell. It’s weird not to be working.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“No, Mom. Please don’t. I chose to do this and actually it’s been nice.”

“How is John?”

“Good, running around after the next-door neighbor.”

“What?”

“Two women moved in next door. They’re nice. John is crazy about one. I think she’s in law school. He’ll probably kill me for telling you,” Ben said and smiled.

“What about the other one?”

“She’s . . . nice.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t know. She’s nice. She works for an auction house and is up in the area looking for estates to sell. She works hard. She’s pretty ambitious, to be honest.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Ben shrugged.

“I know someone else who is pretty ambitious,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and look where that’s led me.”

“What? You live a nice life. You own your own home and bought it with your own money, well before the trust fund.”

“I sold that home and I’m on sabbatical.”

“Still.”

“I’ve worked hard for what I have, even with all the advantages I’ve been given,” Ben acknowledged. “But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it has amounted to anything. I had to take a leave of absence to help out my family.”

She squirmed.

“Mom, I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated that the company made me do that. I hate that there was no middle ground in my life. But now I feel like I’m starting to come awake a bit.”

“And you think this girl is heading down the same road as you?”

“I’m not sure. I think she doesn’t have the luxury of the safety net that I have, so I can understand why she’s working so hard. It’s not just that I see my younger self in her. There’s something about her.”

“You’re interested in her?”

“Maybe? I don’t think I can take it on right now, the responsibility of being with a girl like her. I need to unwind and have fun.”

“It seems like you’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“I’ve nearly kissed her a couple of times.”

“Oh, Ben. You shouldn’t give up or put your life on hold,” she exclaimed before bursting into a coughing fit.

Ben leaped to his feet, pushing back the Queen Anne chair without any consideration for it or the Aubusson underneath. He rubbed his mom’s back in the circular motions she’d told him were comforting.

“Help!” he called out at the top of his lungs.

The nurse burst into the room and helped him pull his mom to her feet. Between the two of them, the managed to walk her down the hall to the parlor. Ben took a step back as the nurse lowered his mom into the bed in a routine that looked choreographed, or at least well rehearsed.

“Can I help?” Ben asked the woman helplessly.

“Get her a glass of water please.”

Ben nodded, went to the kitchen to fetch the drink, and by the time he got back, she had stopped coughing. He handed his mom the water and sat down next to her. She took a tiny sip, turned to him, and mouthed
sorry
.

Ben kissed her head in response.

“You know, I should think about selling this stuff,” she said barely above a whisper. She gestured in a giant circle.

“Mom, stop.”

“No, no. I should. It’d be better for me to get it all figured out before . . . I don’t want you boys to argue anymore.”

“Mom, no. This is your home. These are your things. Enjoy them. Don’t worry about what comes next here. That’s for us to do.”

She nodded, took one more sip of water, and handed it to the nurse. She moved to lie down and Ben covered her with a blanket. He kissed her on the forehead, feeling her warmth under his lips. She looked fragile in the institutional bed. It gave him pause and forced him to remember, she was dying. No matter how well she might seem, the end neared.

“I’ll come back at the end of the week to take you to the doctor, okay? If you need me before then you’ll call, right?”

She nodded and Ben turned to leave. He had opened the front door when she called out to him.

“Ben?”

He turned and rushed back into the room.

“What is it, Mom?” he asked frantically.

“What’s her name?”

Ben smiled and rolled his eyes. “Darcy.” He told her. He kissed her once more then left, anxious to put some distance between his emotions and the situation.

“Yes, of course. Gladly. I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Thank you so much for calling,” Darcy said into the house phone as Char walked into the room later that day.

“Who was that?” Char asked.

“My promotion,” Darcy replied, beaming.

“Huh?”

“That was a lady with a house full of antiques and heirlooms in Duluth. She contacted me personally about selling. If I can land this estate, I’m guaranteed the department head role.”

Darcy jumped off the bar stool she’d been sitting on when Charlotte entered and started dancing around the house.

“Wow. And she just called you? Out of the blue?” Char asked skeptically.

“It’s not totally out of the blue. I have been putting in a lot of face time with dealers and antique shops. I was probably recommended by one of them.”

“Okay,” Char said slowly.

“Come on. Be happy for me. This is huge.”

“I know. I just find it a bit suspicious. When are you leaving?”

“This afternoon. I start tomorrow bright and early. I want to get there and get settled in. I’d better go pack.”

Darcy bolted up the stairs and began filling up her suitcase with suits and dress shirts and practical pumps.

“Don’t forget pajamas and toiletries,” Char offered from the doorway.

“Got it,” Darcy replied.

“Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“Of course. I’ll call you from the hotel. I should be back in a couple days. I’m sure you’ll make the best of my absence.”

Char looked unsettled.

“You know I think you’ve watched too many episodes of
Dateline
,” Darcy teased. She walked into the bathroom, stuffed her arms full of shampoo and makeup, unceremoniously dumped the heap into her bag, and zipped it closed.

“Help me put this in my car. You’ll be okay with only John for transportation?”

“I’m sure. He’s been my ride nearly every day since we’ve arrived anyway,” Char said with a shrug.

The pair each grabbed one side of the bag and lifted it downstairs. Darcy left it by the front door and walked around the main floor, grabbing her workbag and filling it with her supplies as she went.

“What are you up to for the rest of the day?”

“I think we’re going over to Bayfield for dinner. I came back to invite you, actually. Ben is coming.”

“Ha. Because that worked out so well the last time you and John tried it.”

“Tried what?” Char feigned ignorance.

“Tried to set us up on a double date.”

“I think you two could hit it off.”

“Char, stop. He’s . . .” Darcy paused in midthought.

“He’s what?”

“I could be interested. I probably am interested,” Darcy admitted. “But he isn’t. So it doesn’t matter, right?”

“I think he’s interested.”

“Based on what?”

“I don’t know. The way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him.”

“Yeah, I doubt it Char. That’s okay. I’m not here trying to find love. Please go and enjoy yourself and have a lovely evening of conversation with whatever rocket scientist or future Nobel laureate Ben picks up today.”

“He apologized to me about that.”

Darcy had no response. She finished throwing everything she could find into her bag, grabbed her purse off the counter, and walked to the door.

“I’m off. Have fun, but if you need me, call. I’ll come back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Char assured her. “I’m heading upstairs for a nap. Call me when you get in.”

“Bye,” Darcy called as she walked out the door.

She threw her suitcase in the backseat and her bag and purse next to her in the passenger seat. She turned the key in the ignition and was just backing up when Ben knocked on her window. She put the car back in park and rolled down the window.

“Hi, what’s up?” she asked.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, I got a call for work. I’ll be out of town for a few days.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to . . .”

“To . . .”

“Get dinner,” he finished.

“You want me to get dinner? With you?” Her surprise verged on rudeness.

“Yeah.”

“Just the two of us, or are you bringing a date,” she teased.

“Ha, just the two of us. You’d be the date.”

Darcy’s heartbeat began to pound in her ears. Excitement, anxiety, frustration with the timing, and confusion all threatened to make her sick. She’d dismissed Char’s words the moment she’d heard them, but maybe there had been some truth.

“I can’t. I’m going out of town.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Rain check?”

“Okay, sure.”

“Have a safe trip.”

“Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

Darcy watched him walk behind her car and back into his house. She took a few steadying breaths, trying to get her nerves under control. She’d wanted him to ask her out, but when he finally did, she’d been overwhelmed. At least she now had a few days to think about it, although the anticipation threatened her ability to concentrate or sleep.

The ferry ride and drive to Duluth passed by without Darcy noticing. She had too much on her mind. Her physical attraction to Ben was undeniable, but her decided lack of experience unsettled her. What did a guy like Ben expect?

“Hello, Mrs. Hampton?” Darcy asked the middle-aged lady in scrubs who appeared before her the next morning.

“No, no. I’m her nurse. Please wait one moment,” the lady responded kindly but quickly. She shut the door before Darcy could interject.

After a few more minutes waiting on the porch of the grand Victorian home, the door opened to a slim, petite blonde lady. Her elegance struck Darcy immediately. She smiled and extended her hand to Darcy. Darcy was struck with déjà vu. She knew she’d never met the lady before. She’d remember her, but somehow she seemed familiar.

“Please come in. I’m sorry to keep you on the porch. Unfortunately, I’ve taken to living on the first floor,” Mrs. Hampton apologized, dismissively waving her hand to indicate a parlor to one side.

“Let’s go to the dining room and talk. I’ve never done anything like this before. I have a lot of questions, I’m afraid.”

“Not at all,” Darcy smiled, finally finding her voice again.

Darcy followed Mrs. Hampton through a bright and sunny modern kitchen to a formal dining room. The period Queen Anne mahogany table and chairs gleamed in the sunlight that filtered in through four windows that overlooked a formal garden of trimmed boxwoods. The table had been set for service with Sevres china and crystal on a delicate tapestry tablecloth. Darcy restrained herself from swooning. She couldn’t wait to get started looking at everything.

“I guess I don’t know where to start,” Mrs. Hampton began expectantly.

Darcy smiled; glad for the professionalism trained into her that kept her from fawning over the property.

“Sure. I’ll take photographs, measurements, and write descriptions of what you would like to sell. This can take a while, and you are more than welcome to sit in the room with me as I work,” Darcy noted the ever so slight relaxation of Mrs. Hampton’s shoulders. Having a stranger in your home, touching your things, even when you’d requested their presence, was overwhelming.

“After I leave, I’ll research what comparable items are selling for in the current market, and I’ll put together a formal appraisal for you. It will be divided by each room and will have photographs of each item with its description. The description is what will appear in the catalog, but each item will be professionally photographed in the studio at the auction house. You can decide based on the appraisal what you would like to sell. There is no obligation to sell and there is no cost to you, no matter what you decide.”