Breakwater Bay: A Novel Read online

  And Meri realized, not for the first time, just how lucky she was.

  Her cell rang as she was folding pillowcases. Will, the youngest Hollis. Guess the word was out.

  “Yo, sis. Whatcha doing?”

  “Laundry. How about you? Studying by any chance?”

  “I’m watching a Star Wars marathon. For my film class.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Heavy sigh across the connection. “And then I’m going to the library to study for my biology final.”

  “Finals already?”

  “Yep, then I’m headed south for some fun in the sun. Uh, unless you need me to do anything.”

  God, she loved her brothers. Her brothers. “I need you just to be you. Go have fun, but first try acing your exams.”

  “Will do. Gotta go. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” They hung up. Meri wiped away a tear. Awkward and obvious. She couldn’t remember the last time her youngest brother had said he loved her.

  She finished folding the laundry and carried it upstairs to wait for the other two to call.

  She didn’t have long to wait. She’d barely gotten her underwear back in the drawer when her dad called to let her know he’d told everyone. Matt’s call followed almost immediately. Gabe and Penny called together, then Penny called back on her own to offer girl time. Another call from her father to see how she was. They’d all obviously been communicating. The last one was from Gran, sounding so tired and frail that Meri was tempted to drive back and take Monday off.

  They were all filled with love, reassuring, and insisting that nothing was any different than it had always been. They were wonderful and it was exhausting.

  She went to bed and the calls played over and over in her mind. They loved her, she had no doubt of that. But it was still a lot to take in.

  Meri awoke Monday morning, dragged out and not ready to face the world. She contemplated calling in sick, but that was crazy. She needed to get some distance on this, and work would get her back on an even keel. Work was the one thing she could lose herself in, where she wouldn’t have to think about anything that was happening in her life.

  So what if cleaning away layers of paint with a solution of vinegar and water was on the tedious side. Today she was thankful to be studying someone else’s past rather than her own. She was heartily sick of thinking about herself.

  Fortunately her ceiling had been pronounced lead free, unlike the walls she had taken samples from wearing toxin-resistant overalls, latex gloves, and a respirator. By now most everything on the first floor was close to being documented. She’d started alternating between sampling and cleaning. With most of the sampling finished, she could concentrate solely on her ceiling.

  If they passed the next lead and asbestos test, they would be home free. At least with the ceiling declared lead free, she wouldn’t have to suit up; and it meant that there wouldn’t be that many layers of paint to clean away before getting to the original pattern.

  Last Friday had been the first day she’d begun to have an idea of what it might look like. She’d started at one edge of the circular area last week and was working a grid toward the center in order to reveal more of the full pattern.

  This was hindered because the ceiling was embellished by ornamental plaster decorations, their intricate designs made more difficult to discern by the sloppy overpainting, and the cleaning had to be executed gently to avoid breaking off delicate details.

  The morning passed quickly; she was back in the zone as more and more of the pattern revealed itself. She hardly thought about anything but what the ceiling would look like when she was finished. And then she’d knock on the wooden scaffolding that they would get the rest of the funds needed to bring the house back to its former glory.

  She lost track of time until Carlyn yelled, “Hey, you,” from below her. “It’s almost two. Come have lunch with me.”

  Meri had been ignoring the rumblings in her stomach for the last hour. She’d had a carton of yogurt at six that morning while she read the latest issue of Preservation magazine. That was hours ago. She hadn’t brought lunch.

  “Can you order—”

  “Already did. Now come down.”

  Meri secured her tools and climbed down. The woodworkers were already back at work after their lunch break. The paint had been stripped under the careful eyes of the EPA several weeks ago. Beneath it, golden oak window and door frames were being repaired or replaced with the help of several interns.

  She cleaned up and joined Carlyn at the kitchen table. Doug’s desk, which occupied the far corner, was piled high with papers, but it was missing their director.

  Meri and Carlyn had the kitchen to themselves.

  “So what’s new?” Carlyn asked.

  Meri gave her a look. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Turkey and Swiss on a croissant, and roast beef and brie with mustard on an egg roll.” She slid the roast beef toward Meri. “And spring mix salad to get in our green quota.” She pushed a Styrofoam bowl across the table, then reached in the fridge for two bottles of water.

  Meri unwrapped her sandwich and glanced at Carlyn. “You look tired.”

  “Probably from spending most of yesterday looking for ways to squeeze more than a hundred pennies out of every dollar.”

  “Are we going to run out of money?”

  Carlyn finished chewing and wiped a smear of mayonnaise off her mouth. “You should know by now we’re always on the verge of running out of money. The powers that be weren’t sure Gilbert House was worth the expense. Fortunately for us Doug is a master fund-raiser.” Carlyn looked past Meri to the doorway. “Hello.” In a lower voice she said, “TDH alert in the doorway.”

  Tall, dark, and handsome alert. Meri couldn’t resist. She turned to see who it was.

  “Good God, Alden!” She stood and knocked over her water. “What’s happened?”

  Chapter 7

  Alden held up both hands. “Nothing’s wrong. Everybody’s fine.”

  Meri slumped with relief and began mopping up the spill. “Then what are you doing here?”

  He was wearing black jeans with a black sweater beneath an incongruously expensive country jacket. A Blackwatch plaid scarf hung from his neck. Definitely dressed for success by Corrigan standards.

  “Meri!” Carlyn scolded.

  “I mean, I’m really glad to see you, but you don’t normally come to town. And never all dressed up.” She tossed the wet napkin toward the trash can. It made it halfway and splatted on the floor.

  “I was on my way to New York and thought I’d drop by.”

  Meri looked at him speculatively.

  “Hi,” Carlyn said behind her.

  Meri took the hint. “Alden, this is my friend, colleague, and partner in karaoke crime, Carlyn Anderson. Carlyn, this is my neighbor, Alden Corrigan.”

  “Alden? You’re Meri’s neighbor? I wondered why we’ve never met before.” Carlyn shot Meri a speaking look.

  Alden shifted on his feet, looking ready to bolt antelope-like down the hall. “I don’t get into town much. Meri, can you walk me out to my car?”

  “You’re leaving already?”

  “I’ve got a three-forty train.”

  “You’re not driving?”

  “No.”

  “And you just ‘stopped by’ on your way to the train station in Providence?”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s two hours out of your way, Alden. Fess up. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I told you. But can we just talk for a minute? I have a favor to ask. Two actually.”

  “Don’t mind me,” said Carlyn and got up from the table.

  “Don’t get up,” Meri said. “We’ll go outside.”

  Carlyn sat down, but her look told Meri that she was going to pump her for information as soon as she got back.

  Meri looked at Alden as she walked out the door. TDH. He was definitely tall and dark, and he was good-looking, but a little old for Carlyn. Or maybe not too
old, but way too serious. She smiled at him.

  “What?”

  “I was just trying to imagine you at karaoke night.”

  He smiled somewhat ruefully, shook his head.

  She punched his arm. “What’s the favor?”

  They were walking down the center hall toward the back door. He stopped in the alcove of the back staircase.

  “First, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Well, I’m trying to not think about any of it. Did Gran make you come all this way to check up on me?”

  “No. But she is worried, and she feels bad for having set this whole thing in motion. She said you sounded upset when she called you last night. I hope you’re not upset with her.”

  “I didn’t sound upset.” She’d made a point of being upbeat because Gran had sounded upset. “And I’m not upset . . . not exactly,” she added truthfully. She had no idea how she could carry on a normal conversation with her grandmother, not after this weekend.

  “Meri . . .” He reached for her arm, started to speak; dropped his hand. “Call her, okay? And let her know you don’t hate her.”

  “I don’t hate her; how could she even think that?”

  “Just let her know, okay?” He gave her one of his piercing looks, what she’d dubbed his Darth Vader look when she was in her teens, though he’d pointed out that no one ever saw Darth Vader’s eyes.

  “Okay. I’ll call her tonight. What’s the second favor?”

  “Nora’s coming to spend spring break with me.”

  “Great.”

  “I know you’re busy, but do you think you could come out for the weekend and say hello? Maybe arrange to do something with her once or twice? Show her around Newport or take her shopping or something, my treat. Just so she won’t spend seven days in her room texting the friends she’s pissed she had to leave.”

  “And keep her out of your hair, so you can work?”

  “No. It’s just she’s having trouble with her mother at the moment. Actually with the whole living situation. I thought maybe she might want to talk. To . . . someone.”

  “Not you?”

  “Evidently I wouldn’t understand. I guess I’m not that good with teenagers, not hot or cool or whatever.”

  “That is so much bull; you’ve always been goods with kids, and . . . adults who sometimes act like kids.”

  He smiled at that. “That’s different. You’re not my daughter.”

  “And thank goodness for that.”

  “Actually she asked if you were going to be out at the farm. She says I’m too overprotective.”

  “When is she coming?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Sure. I’ll come out to see Gran, try to work things out with her. Then see what Nora is interested in doing. Maybe she’d like to come stay in town for a night or two and Carlyn and I’ll show her a good time.”

  She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  She couldn’t help it, she cracked up. “What kind of good time do you think we’d show her?”

  “I shudder to think; could we maybe stick to shopping and pizza?”

  “Sure. Now do you have time to see what I’m working on before you go?”

  “Always.”

  Constraint broken, she linked her arm in his and led him to the front foyer, then maneuvered him to the opposite wall of where she’d been working. “It’s hard to see all four feet by four feet of it, especially with the scaffolding in the way. One day we’ll hopefully be able to afford a hydraulic lift. But look.” She moved in close to get his perspective and pointed to where the dull blue, green, and deep red colors were framed by an amorphous edge of modern paint.

  He studied her little patch of work like it was the work of a great master. He always took an interest in what she was doing. Actually he always took an interest in everything. How could Nora possibly be bored with him?

  Impulsively, she reached up and kissed his cheek.

  He laughed quietly. “What was that for?”

  “Just because. And now that you’ve been appropriately appreciative, you’d better hurry or you’ll miss your train.”

  She walked him to the back door again.

  But when she would have left him at the door, he took her elbow. “Come out to the car with me. Gran sent you something.”

  Meri hesitated, looked at Alden but as was often the case, his face was unreadable. “Please tell me it’s leftover cioppino.”

  “Come.” He led her over to his ancient Volvo station wagon, unlocked the back, and handed her a cardboard box. She had to force herself to take it. It was the same box she had seen on the hutch the night of her birthday dinner. The box that they had meant to give her then and changed their minds? She looked a question at Alden.

  “It’s things your mother . . . Laura . . . saved for you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Put it in your car. You can look them over after work.”

  “Do you know what’s in here?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t peek?” she asked, trying to add a little levity to the situation.

  “Of course not. It’s for you. I have to go.”

  She forced a smile. It didn’t fool either of them.

  “Saturday. Don’t forget.”

  “I’ll be there.” She watched him get into the car and waved as he drove out of the parking lot. Feeling suddenly alone, she put the box in her car and locked it, something she rarely did on-site. Then, leaving her questions securely locked inside with the box, she returned to the kitchen where she knew Carlyn would be waiting with a million questions of her own.

  She was. As soon as Meri walked through the door Carlyn said, “That’s your elusive neighbor? No wonder you’ve never let me meet him. The way you talk about him I expected to see an old geezer, not a hot stud.”

  Meri laughed. “He was looking awfully GQ today. He can pull it off when he tries.” She sighed. “He just doesn’t usually try. Most of the time he runs around in holey paint-smeared jeans and shirts with frayed collars, also paint smeared.”

  “I don’t know, I’m getting a good visual on the holey jeans part. I take it he’s a painter.”

  “An illustrator, book illustrator, and a lot of the smears are colored ink, not paint.”

  “I didn’t know people actually still drew pictures for books. I thought it was all done on a computer program.”

  “He does that, too, but he doesn’t like it as much as getting down and dirty.”

  Carlyn raised her eyebrows. “So what does he do for fun?”

  “Alden?” Meri thought about it. She couldn’t really think of him having a rollicking good time. Maybe that’s what he did on his trips to Manhattan. But she didn’t want to “get a visual” about that. “He takes his sailboat out when he’s not on deadline.”

  Carlyn deflated. “I get seasick. What else?”

  “You know, I’m not sure. He’s always going into Manhattan to see his agent or editor to turn in his work.”

  “Manhattan is good. What else?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure he has a life, but I don’t see him that much anymore.” And she certainly didn’t ask him about his “life.” “And when I do see him, we don’t talk about stuff like that. Except neither he nor my dad are in love with Peter. Do you think they know something I don’t?”

  “Just overprotective. Dads do that.” Carlyn shrugged. “I guess maybe neighbors do, too.”

  “His family has lived next door to us forever. He’s like one of our family.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind putting him in my family. Is he married?”

  “Divorced.” Meri eyed her friend. “Are you seriously interested?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say no if he were interested back. Kids?”

  “Two teenagers.”

  “They live with him?”

  “No. But you might meet one of them next week.”

  “Can’t wait.”
Carlyn crumpled up her sandwich wrapper and tossed it at the trash can. It arched gracefully into the center of the circle. Carlyn pumped both fists in the air. “Booyah. Two points!”

  She snagged another bottle of water. “Back to the grind. Thanks for introducing me to your neighbor.”

  Meri waited until she was gone, then poured herself a cup of hour-old coffee. Why had Alden and Gran waited until today to give her that box? Why not Friday night? Because they didn’t want to be there when she learned the rest? The rest of what? Her birth mother died. They switched the babies. Meri lived.

  For the first time since learning of her birth, she really felt cut adrift. Had she disappointed them all with her reaction? Had she planted a seed in their minds by the way she acted? Did they think that she didn’t want to be a part of their family? Or worse, had they decided they didn’t want her?

  And why today of all days did Alden have to leave for the city?

  Therese watched the clock on the oven. She had hoped that Alden would call once he saw Meri, but maybe he didn’t have time. Maybe he hadn’t gone to Newport after all. Maybe he despised her and threw the box in the bay.

  And maybe that’s what she should have done years ago. But it was too late. Too late to change the past. Too late to make amends. From here on out they would be feeling their way, and she prayed fervently that she hadn’t ruined her granddaughter’s life. For granddaughter Meri was and would always be. No matter what happened.

  When it was six o’clock, she stopped waiting for Alden’s call. She made some buttered toast and tea for her dinner, carried them into the parlor, and ate while watching the nightly news.

  It was after six when Meri finally quit work. She was ridiculously stiff, but she’d thrown herself into her work on the ceiling with renewed energy. She would need another area twice as large before there would be enough to show the before-and-after for the fund-raiser that was being planned for late summer.

  She’d already discovered a border that probably ran the circumference of the ceiling. Tomorrow she would move toward the center of the ceiling and uncover a new piece of the pattern. On the ceiling as well as her life.

  Her work had to be coordinated with the other projects. Like a finely honed machine all the pieces had to come together in a specific way. You couldn’t refinish the hardwood floors until the scaffolding was taken down and the walls had been shored up where needed and repaired. The ceiling, the floors, the woodwork—every aspect had to be scheduled according to an overall plan. Discovery and analysis were important, but the workers who performed those steps had to allow time for the paint restorers and muralists to come in and renew examples of the interior to show potential patrons.