Hearts at Home (8 page)

“She wasn't just tight,” Cleta said, lifting a knowing brow. “She'd been seein' snow in the woodbox for a few years.”

“Annie, honey.” Babette Graham drew Annie into an embrace. “We want to help. Charles says he'll do a portrait of Olympia for the funeral if you want one. You can set it on an easel down front, right by the casket.”

“We'll help provide food for the wake,” Birdie added, taking a sausage ball from Vernie's plate. “Cookies, rolls, finger sandwiches—whatever you want, sweetie.” She caught Caleb's eye. “You won't have to lift a finger, Caleb. Abner has already fired up the ovens.”

Caleb felt the corner of his mouth twist as he watched the women nibble from the refreshments he had placed on the dining room table: sausages, crackers, olives, nuts, thin slices of cold cuts—all the things Olympia had bought for her surprise party to thank the town for their kindness.

He looked toward heaven and smiled.
You're thanking
them now, Missy.

As he lowered his gaze, his eyes fell upon Annie, who was struggling to be brave. His young charge nodded to this woman and that and smiled through her tears as she accepted hugs and condolences. Edith Wickam stood by her side, one arm firmly hooked around Annie's waist. “Winslow will do a beautiful service,” she was saying. “Olympia would be right proud. We understand she was fond of high church ceremony, and we'll honor her wishes. I think I might even be able to dig up some candles in the basement. We have a wedding candelabra somewhere.” She pressed her fingertip to her chin. “I think.”

Annie squinched her face into a look that made Caleb wonder if candles were proper decorations for a funeral, but surely the pastor's wife knew what she was doing.

Drawing a deep breath, he moved toward the knot of men who had gathered around the kitchen coffee pot. Once again, Dr. Marc was explaining the events of last evening. “By the time Annie found her, Olympia was gone,” he said, one hand wrapping around a ceramic mug. “There was nothing we could do. You know Olympia— for years Dr. Merritt and I have been telling her to watch her diet, but the lady was set in her ways.”

“Stubborn as a mule, you mean,” Floyd interjected, winking. “I don't mean no disrespect, 'cause Olympia's heard me call her that many a time. But she was stubborn, and no two ways about it.”

Leaving the humans to their discussions, Caleb moved to the back porch where his angel brothers had gathered. Zuriel, Abner, Micah, Yakov, and Elezar silently made room for him as he joined their circle, and an instant later he realized why none of them were speaking. Gavriel stood in spirit form at the center of the group, invisible to all but angelic eyes.

“Caleb.” The angel captain's voice rang with authority. “Congratulations on a job well done. The Lord commends you for your excellent service to Olympia. She is celebrating in heaven with her loved ones, patiently awaiting the Resurrection.”

Caleb lowered his head. “It is my joy to serve the Father.”

“He knows.” Gavriel's eyes burned brighter. “And it is nearly time for you to move to another place of service. By the end of this month your replacement will arrive to serve whoever is living in this house.”

Caleb lifted his head. “Will it be Annie?”

Gavriel smiled. “It is not for me to know. Annie must exercise her free will, though I trust you will do all you can to encourage her to be obedient to the Father's leading.”

Zuriel clapped Caleb's back. “Well done, faithful servant.”

The other Smith men murmured in agreement, then fell silent when Gavriel raised a hand. “There will be time for congratulations when all our work is done.” He lifted his gaze toward the heavens. “Until then, we have much to do, and Caleb still serves Annie.”

His gaze melted into the butler's. “Remain close to her side during the coming days, my brother. She is young and easily confused, and her heart is vulnerable from bearing so much pain in so short a time. Minister to her as best you can, and guide her with tender love.”

Moved to the core of his spirit, Caleb nodded. “You know I will.”

Edith returned home at 1:30; Winslow didn't arrive until nearly three o'clock. When she heard his tread creak the front porch steps, she set her cross-stitch aside and stood to greet him. Her heart sank at the sight of weariness in his eyes. Usually a persistently happy man, today her husband looked drained.

She gave him a hug, then stepped back to look up at him. “How is Annie holding up?”

“Fine, I suppose.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Do we have anything to eat? I feel like I'm about to fall over.”

“Didn't you eat anything at Frenchman's Folly? Caleb had food everywhere.”

“I had no appetite.”

“Follow me, then.” She led the way into the kitchen, then opened the refrigerator and brought out the egg salad sandwiches she'd prepared before church. “I've spent the last hour trying on clothes. I can't find a thing to wear to the funeral.”

He sat down, massaging the back of his neck. “You have a closet full of dresses.”

“All too tight.” She set a plate before him, then paused to gently knead the tight knots along his shoulder blades. He bowed his head for a moment of silent prayer, then picked up a sandwich.

Leaving him to eat in peace, Edith returned to the counter and eyed the remaining two sandwiches. She wasn't hungry; she had eaten her fill at Olympia's house. But, just to keep Winslow company, she could eat again. She could eat a sandwich, garnished with a helping of potato chips . . . or she could eat lettuce and do something practical about her poundage problem.

Pulling a handful of lettuce from a plastic container, she tore the leaves into pieces, then dropped them into a bowl. A moment later she had found a half-empty bottle of low-fat dressing wedged in the back of the refrigerator. Uncapping the bottle, she smelled the contents, then drizzled a little over the shredded lettuce.

After taking her place at the table, she picked up her fork and picked out the pieces of lettuce with the most dressing. Salad had never been her favorite food. Roughage put her colon in an uproar.

Winslow stopped chewing long enough to speak. “Annie wants Olympia's viewing tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

Winslow nodded. “The service will be Tuesday. Annie wants to keep it small since most of Olympia's friends are here on the island. She made a few calls to family on the mainland, though.”

Edith tilted her head. “What's going to happen to the house?”

Winslow chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed. “Annie's inherited the estate, and it's too soon for her to be making important decisions. I've counseled her to move slowly, take her time, and be sure of what she wants.”

Edith frowned at her tasteless lunch. “Would you like cookies for dessert?”

“Do we have Oreos?”

Dark chocolate, creamy middle, just the right amount of
crunch. . . .

Edith stuck a forkful of green into her mouth, then spoke around it. “I think so.”

She
knew
so; she'd eaten three with a glass of milk twenty minutes before he got home and she was
still
hungry enough to eat the legs off the table.

Emotional stress gave her the munchies, but the next few hours wouldn't be any easier than the last. Tomorrow she'd have to cope with the stress of attending Olympia's viewing.

Chapter Three

T
he old grandfather clock was chiming ten on Monday morning when Edith heard Bea's golf cart rattling over the graveled road. Eager to catch the postmistress, Edith hurried through the living room, her head bent as she tightened the back of a loose earring.

She opened the front door just as the bell rang. Bea stood there, her eyes narrow and watery, a stack of mail in her hand. Edith opened the storm door to accept delivery, then smiled at the woebegone woman.

“You look like you could use a hot cup of coffee.”

Bea's face crumpled. “I know the mail must go out, but my heart isn't in it this morning.”

Edith snorted as she tossed the stack of letters onto the foyer table. “I never get anything but bills and credit card offers, anyway.”

Drawing Bea into the warmth of the house, Edith closed the door and led her into the cozy kitchen. She knew how Bea felt; she'd gone on her own crying jag an hour earlier. The close-knit town had lost two residents in a short time, and each death served to remind the islanders of their own mortality.

She turned toward the coffeepot, then heard Bea sigh. “I haven't come empty-handed—Birdie sent this with me, probably hoping I'd find someone to share it with.”

Edith turned in time to see the postmistress pull a white pastry box from the depths of her mailbag. She groaned as Bea lifted the lid and the warm scent of cherry chocolate coffeecake washed over her.

“Ohhhhhh.” Edith concentrated on the coffee mugs. “That smells good.”

“It
is
good. Abner's cakes are downright sinful.”

Edith lifted the coffee cups and turned, then stared at the gleaming chocolate cake. Why not eat some? After all, this was a unique occasion . . . and she wouldn't be eating, she'd be
ministering
. Maybe the sugar would lift their spirits. Besides, she hadn't actually started an official diet plan yet, so this could be her day of “last suppers.” Like a condemned man who splurges on his last meal, she could eat everything she wanted today and begin her diet tomorrow. She'd wear one of her tentlike corduroy dresses to the funeral and still have nearly two full months to diet for the wedding. Plenty of time to lose a few pounds and fit into her peach dress.

She'd be good . . . tomorrow. After the funeral, she wouldn't feel like eating, anyway.

Bea dropped into a kitchen chair as Edith pulled two plates out of the cabinet, then sliced thick wedges of dense chocolate, her mind momentarily flashing back to the sausage and waffles she'd eaten a little over an hour ago.

This food was okay. It was part of the Last Breakfast.

She'd be disciplined tomorrow.

Bea sighed. “I can't believe Olympia's gone.”

Edith set a plate before her guest, then handed Bea a fork. “I've always said I hope the good Lord takes me quick like that. Alive one minute, with the Lord the next.”

Bea nodded, cutting into the coffeecake. “Sudden death is hard, though, on the ones left behind. Especially since Olympia went so soon after Edmund's passing.”

Edith stirred sugar into her cup. Two teaspoons; she wouldn't deprive herself today.

She cut a piece of cake with her fork. “Olympia and Edmund are together now. I know she must be some happy.”

With tears in her voice, Bea lifted a forkful of chocolate coffee-cake. “I suppose Winslow will be doing the service.”

Edith closed her eyes as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue, then swallowed. “Ayuh. He will.”

“I don't suppose this crisis will interfere with Salt's and Birdie's wedding next month,” Bea said, slowly portioning off another bite. “I asked Birdie if she wanted to postpone the ceremony, but she said no. She and Salt don't want to wait another minute.”

A sudden realization struck Edith as she studied the postmistress—why, Bea wasn't grieving only for Olympia! She had the look of a woman who had just lost her best friend, but Bea's best friend wasn't Olympia . . . it was Birdie.

Beatrice Coughlin had moved to Heavenly Daze after her husband's death to live with Birdie, her only sister. Edith knew Bea had considered the move permanent, never dreaming that Birdie would fall in love in the winter of her life. Salt Gribbon was a good man, and he'd make Birdie a devoted husband, but what would Bea do when Birdie moved out to the lighthouse? She'd be sitting by the fireplace in the bakery's living quarters all by herself.

Bea dragged the tines of her fork through the rich frosting on the cake. “I'm a third wheel now.”

“Oh, Bea.” Edith leaned over to pat her hand. “You and Birdie will still be close. She'll be coming to the bakery every day to run the business, won't she?”

“And I'll be out making the mail run.” Bea's eyes clouded. “Or selling stamps. Or answering angel mail. Birdie and I always had our special time together at night, after work.”

Edith finished Bea's thought. “But after the wedding, she'll be up at the lighthouse with Salt and the kids.”

Bea nodded, her chin quivering. Edith remained silent for a moment, giving the woman a chance to rein in her flighty emotions.

“I'll get used to it, I suppose,” Bea finally said, lowering her gaze to her plate. “A body can get used to anything, if they try hard enough. Changes are coming, I know, and I'll just have to brace for them. Olympia's gone, Annie will probably sell the house, and Birdie's moving up to the cove. Who knows?” She let out a hollow laugh. “Maybe some nice looking rich fellow will buy Frenchman's Folly and fall for me. I could find myself serving tea in Olympia's parlor.”

Edith made a face at that comment, but Bea didn't see it. Just as well—Bea was only blowing off steam.

Smiling, she tried to steer the conversation into another channel. “Do you really think Annie will sell the house?”

Bea sighed. “I don't think she wants to live here— never has. Olympia always said Annie couldn't wait to graduate and leave the island. She's got her own life now, a new boyfriend, a good job—why would she want to come back here?”

Edith shook her head. Tragedy had touched them all in the last few months, but Annie had been the hardest hit. Would she sell the house and wash her hands of Heavenly Daze altogether? Edith hoped not. Annie was family, and the family had lost too many members lately.

With her arms crossed and her heart heavy, Annie stood in the doorway of her aunt's bedroom. The white counterpane lay smooth upon the bed, with only a slight indentation to mark the place Olympia had lain for so many years. An arrangement of silk lilacs on the nightstand cast soft shadows on the worn Bible her aunt had read every evening before falling asleep. The words gave her comfort, she always said, when the worries of life threatened to keep her awake.