Laura Abbot (9 page)

“That’s my girl. If enthusiasm and creativity count for anything, you should do well.”

Late that afternoon she gave him a walking tour of Belleporte, introducing him to several of her acquaintances, before ending up at the Hungry Gull, a small sandwich shop. “You’ve accomplished quite a bit in a short time,” Noel said over dessert. “Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

She studied the piece of carrot cake impaled on her fork.
If she’s so proud of me, why isn’t she here?
“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Her father studied her intently. She’d never been able to hide anything from him. “Posie, about your mother—”

“It’s okay, Daddy. She was busy. I under stand.”

But she didn’t. Not really.

There was something her father wasn’t telling her. But what? They’d never been a family that kept secrets. Or maybe she was merely paranoid. After all, the world didn’t revolve around her. She’d have to accept his explanation. Her mother was busy.

K
ATHERINE STUDIED HERSELF
in the full-length mirror. She couldn’t hold back a smug grin. If her bridge partners could see her now! Her well-broken-in athletic shoes, two-piece lavender jogging suit and jaunty pink sun visor were a far cry from the standard matron “uniform” of designer pumps, elegant silk blouse, linen skirt and pearls.

The lake air and independence had been true tonics. She felt better than she had in years. Each day she’d added a few more yards to her morning walk, and today she was going clear into town to the post office. Then, after Greta completed the grocery shopping, she would pick her up at Ben Nolan’s office.

For the first time, they’d been able to open the windows to the gentle April breeze, bearing with it the scent of growing things. Springtime. Katherine knew they’d get one or two more cold snaps, but she was going to revel in today’s promise. She strapped on a fanny pack and set off down the sandy road.

When had she ever walked in Winnetka? Or been surrounded by nature, glorying in the cry of a gull and the kiss of wind on her cheeks? Never. Exercise was done with personal trainers or in posh athletic clubs. The way her heart now pounded and her breath came in deep, jagged pants suggested her body was coming alive like an awakened Rip Van Winkle. Winded by the time she reached the village, she paused at the gazebo and sat for a few minutes to allow her pulse rate to return to normal. Looking at three recently built fabulous lakeside homes, she sighed. Not everything new signaled progress. The houses were on the site of the original community center, razed several years ago. She had loved the building, with its rustic stone and timber construction and its wide veranda overlooking the lake. So many fun times back then—dances, sing-alongs, amateur drama productions… Oh, no, was she getting to be one of those snivelly old ladies lost in “the way it used to be”?

Then, catching her off guard, came another memory. Nan’s rehearsal dinner all those years ago. The community center had been decorated with fresh lilacs and swags of white netting. She and Frank had brought in caterers and a string quartet from Chicago for the occasion. It was to have been a happy, festive family celebration. Even now, like an icicle driven into her chest, the pain came, piercing and all too real. Everything had changed that late May afternoon. Numbed by Frank’s shocking announcement, she’d somehow managed to stumble through the evening and the wedding the next day. Nan had been devastated by what had happened. But she, too, had carried on. Neither of them had ever understood, though. Not really, despite Frank’s assurances that he’d done what he had to do.

Katherine eased to her feet and started down the street toward the post office. Some pain never went away. Some memories never dimmed, no matter how many years passed.

Ever since that day, a huge part of her had been missing.

Fiddle-faddle, she admonished herself. She couldn’t let the grim, gray cloak of depression ruin this God-given day. She held her head higher and quickened her pace. The innkeeper from Primrose House waved at her, and Mrs. Arlo beeped her horn as she tootled past in her Volkswagen bug. Rounding the corner onto Shore Lane, Katherine stopped short. What was going on with the Mansfield cottage? Then she recalled reading in the weekly county paper about someone opening a gift store in Belleporte. The Gift House, or something. Curious, she crossed the street and approached the shop. As she came closer, she saw the large rocking horse and the sign. Oh, yes. That was it. The Gift Horse.

What a delight to see someone paying attention to the Mansfield house. Why, the yard had been cleaned up, the multi-paned windows shone in the morning sun, and the welcoming feel of the shop beckoned the passerby. The front door opened and a petite young woman who looked strangely familiar emerged, carrying two pots of flowers, which she arranged on either side of the gate.

Katherine hurried toward her. “Good morning. Are you open for business yet?”

Smiling warmly, the curly-headed lady wiped her hands on her jeans. “We open this weekend.”

“Oh.” Katherine was disappointed. “I’ll have to arrange to come again then.”

The proprietor cocked her head. “I’m getting ready to pour a cup of tea. Why don’t you join me? That way you can have a sneak preview.”

Katherine’s first impulse was to say no. She didn’t want to intrude. But the invitation had sounded genuine. Besides, she was curious where she’d seen this woman before. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” As the young woman preceded Katherine up the walk, she said, “I’m Laurel Eden. Ordinarily I’d shake hands, but I’m covered in potting soil.”

“Delighted to meet you, Laurel. I’m Katherine Sullivan.”

Laurel spun in her tracks, her face alight with pleasure. “Please tell me you’re the Katherine Sullivan who lives in Summer Haven.”

“The very same. Have we met?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I have a love affair with your house. It’s…it’s…special.”

Katherine studied the young woman. “Yes, it is.”

Laurel seemed to come out of a trance. “Forgive me. I’ve forgotten my manners. Please come in.” She stood aside and let Katherine pass. “Well, here it is. The Gift Horse.”

Katherine couldn’t believe the profusion of color and texture, the faint fragrance of flowers, the rustic, yet sophisticated display pieces. Everywhere she looked was something she wanted to examine more closely. She turned to the young woman. “Laurel, I can’t believe it. We’ve never had anything like this in Belleporte. It’s amazing. Show me everything.”

As Laurel explained the various sections of the store and pointed out the one-of-a-kind merchandise, Katherine grew even more entranced. “I’ll be here the day you open. Complete with my credit card.”

“This Friday.” Laurel rinsed off her hands, then pulled down two cups and filled them. As she handed one to Katherine, she said in a low voice, “I’m a little scared.” Then before Katherine could reassure her, she went on. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Up to now, I’ve been excited, confident. I mean, I think this place is wonderful, but will anyone else?”

“I do,” Katherine said.

“Thanks. That means a lot. Especially from you. You’ve been coming to Belleporte for years. You must have a good sense about the people here.”

“They will love The Gift Horse, dear. I’m sure of it.” Katherine permitted herself to inhale the soothing almond fragrance of the tea before taking a small sip. When she set down her cup, she smiled. “Now tell me why you like Summer Haven.”

Laurel’s eyes lit up. “You know how there are places that capture you? Where you can imagine what goes on inside, what kind of people live there? The first time I saw it from the beach, I had that reaction.” She sat back in her chair. “This is going to sound silly.”

“Please. Go on.”

“It was as if I could hear children laughing and playing and adults chatting over cocktails on the deck. The house itself was like a living being, surrounding its inhabitants with loving arms. It seemed like—” Laurel ducked her head as if in embarrassment “—well, such a happy, family place.”

“It was.
Is.
” A companionable silence followed, and Katherine knew that she and Laurel were destined to be friends. In the distance a clock chimed eleven. “Oh, dear, I’m late.” Katherine stood and carried her cup to the small sink. “Thank you so much for the tea, but I have an appointment with Ben Nolan.” She turned. “Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do.”

If her eyes weren’t failing her, Katherine detected the first hint of a blush, and there was no mistaking the glow in Laurel’s eyes. “He’s a fine young man. My grandson’s best friend, in fact.” Nothing like putting in an endorsement. Ben was too serious. He needed a lively young woman like Laurel. No harm in playing matchmaker, was there? “I’m going to tell Ben to bring you out to Summer Haven soon. You haven’t been inside the house, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. I’d love that, Mrs. Sullivan.”

Katherine held up her hand. “Please. I want us to be friends. Just ‘Katherine.’”

“You’ve made me feel so much better. I hope you know you’re welcome anytime.”

As they strolled toward the door, Katherine noticed a beautiful kite with a rainbow design on the wall above the counter. Then it struck her where she’d seen Laurel before. “You’re the kite-flyer,” she said delightedly. “That’s why you looked familiar.”

“You saw us that day?” Laurel hugged herself. “It was so much fun. The wind was just right, and it was exhilarating running down the beach, feeling the tug on the string.”

Katherine had a sudden memory of herself racing down the beach behind her father, thinking if only she could run a bit faster, she could fly. “You make me feel young again, simply hearing about it.”

“You are young. Age is a matter of the heart. You are
not
old.”

“Thank you, my dear. For everything.” She opened the door, then paused in the entry. “And if I have anything to say about it, our Mr. Nolan will be calling you soon. I can’t wait to show you Summer Haven.”

If a septuagenarian could be said to skip, that’s exactly what Katherine did as she headed down the street toward Ben’s office. What an extraordinary young woman. Exactly who Ben needed to put a spark in his life.

P
AT SNUGGLED
under the quilt, waiting for Noel to come to bed. He’d driven back from Michigan in one day and seemed unusually reticent. Or tired. He’d wrapped her in his customary hug when he’d come home, but his answers to her questions about Laurel and her store had been perfunctory. Yes, their daughter was fine. Yes, she’d done a great job with remodeling the premises and displaying the merchandise. Of course she’d liked his gift of the outdoor display horse.

And, no, Belleporte didn’t seem much different from her descriptions of it.

Although Noel claimed to understand her reasons for staying home, she knew he didn’t approve. The light in the bathroom went out and her husband entered the darkened room, opened the window to the moist spring air, then slipped in beside her. He lay on his back with his hands locked behind his head, saying nothing.

Usually he turned on his side, pulling her to him in a comforting spoon position. She waited, slowing her breathing to match his. The emotional distance vastly exceeded the few inches separating them. After a few moments, she slid closer, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. Almost reluctantly, he disengaged one arm and slowly draped it around her.

“Are you angry with me?” she whispered.

“No.”

“Disappointed?”

“Laurel missed you. She’s concerned. She asked me if you were ill.”

Didn’t he grasp how much she would have liked to go with him? Anywhere but Belleporte. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

She gathered her courage. “Did you, you know, see…anyone?”

“No.” He traced a finger up and down her shoulder. “I think you’re overly concerned with the past.”

“Don’t, Noel. I’ll never ever forget. And I can’t forgive.”

“‘Never’ is a long time.”

She lay still, listening to the steady beat of his heart, remembering her intense youthful idealism. “It all seemed so right at the time. Young men were dying in a senseless war. It was crazy. Somebody had to stop the madness.” As clearly as if it was yesterday, she could picture a stern-jawed Noel on the steps of the university administration building, megaphone to his lips, his anti-war rhetoric persuasive and inflaming. He had moved her out of sophomoric complacency into passionate conviction and action.

She felt his body tense, but he didn’t comment. “Noel, were we too radical?”

“If you believe in a cause, you have to have the courage of your convictions. Hindsight is a resource we didn’t have, but even so, I’d still do what I did. I believed then, and I believe now, that there are just and unjust wars. Vietnam was unjust.”

“Our principles cost us a great deal, didn’t they?”

“You, in particular.”

In the distance an owl hooted. A gust ruffled the muslin curtains. “But they also gave us this wonderful home. This safe place to raise Laurel.”

Noel grunted. “We live in a world now where there are no safe places.”

“That’s why it’s so important to preserve what we have as long as we can.”

He didn’t answer, and from his breathing, she concluded he was asleep. But then, just before rolling away from her, he said, “Or to risk setting right the things we can still control.”

Shivering, she pulled up the covers and stared at the ceiling, willing away her tears. She couldn’t go where he wanted her to.

M
EGAN FINISHED
gift-wrapping a package for the last customer. The minute the door closed behind the woman, she let out a delighted whoop. “We did it!”

Laurel nodded with satisfaction. “It feels good, doesn’t it? I didn’t have time to sit all day.”

Ellen, who’d been straightening the display of place mats, sauntered toward them. “Who
did?
” She grinned. “But that’s the price of success, huh?”

The steady flow of customers, many from Lake City and beyond, had surprised Laurel, who’d figured The Gift Horse would get off to a slow start. If Ellen hadn’t volunteered to help out on the opening day, they’d have been caught shorthanded. “This calls for a celebration.”

The teenager grinned. “I wish I could.” She shrugged into her cheerleader letter jacket.

Ellen eased onto one of the stools behind the counter. “Big date tonight?”

Megan blushed. “The first bonfire beach party of the season.”

“Could be mighty cold,” Laurel suggested.

Ellen jabbed her in the ribs. “I doubt Miss Megan will freeze with that handsome boyfriend around to look after her.”

Megan’s blush intensified. “Wow, I can’t have any secrets around here.”

Laurel suddenly felt old. “Just be careful.”

“Oh, no. Not you, too.” Megan shook her head. “You sound like my mother. And Ben.”

Ellen chuckled. “Now look what we’ve done. Don’t let us envious spinsters spoil your fun.”

With a flourish, Megan wrapped a scarf around her neck. “No way,” she said as she opened the door. Then she turned back. “Congratulations, Laurel. It was an awesome day. Good night.”

“She’s right, you know,” Ellen said after Megan left. “It
was
an awesome day.”

“I may need you to bring me back to earth. The customers really seemed to like what they saw. And bought.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ellen gazed steadily at Laurel. “You’ve accomplished miracles here. In fact, I’ll be frank. When you came to my office that first day, I thought maybe you were overly optimistic. But you were unstoppable.” She rose to her feet and ushered Laurel to the stairs. “Now get your jacket. Dinner at The Rusty Bucket is my treat.”

“Only if you’ll let me spring for the champagne.”

“Deal. I’ll call for reservations while you get ready. It’s celebration time, girlfriend.”

The Rusty Bucket looked like a roadhouse from the outside, but the interior, with its white linen tablecloths, muted lighting and live piano bar, was strictly first-class. Laurel sipped her champagne, reveling in the satisfaction of a successful opening and Ellen’s welcome company.

Guiltily, she acknowledged Ellen had been a far better friend to her than she had been in return. She shouldn’t have let Ben’s relationship with Ellen keep her from suggesting more get-togethers. “I’m glad you didn’t have any property to show today.”

“Business is slow right now. It’ll pick up in May when people start looking for vacation rentals. It was fun helping out. Where did all those beautiful things come from?”

Laurel told her the backgrounds of some of the artisans and how she’d discovered them.

“Those woven place mats were stunning. I may have to buy a set myself.”

“My mother made them,” Laurel said quietly.

“No kidding? And your dad made the rocking horses? Quite a talented family. Will they be coming for your grand opening in June? I’d love to meet them.”

“I’m not sure.” When she said the words aloud, she recognized their truth. For one of the few times in her life, she couldn’t be certain of her mother’s support.

“Why’s that?” Ellen asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it. My father seems excited about The Gift Horse, but I don’t know about my mother.” In a desperate attempt to change the subject, she added, “Next to Ben Nolan, she’s my biggest skeptic.”

“Ben? Pooh. What does he know?” With a knowing look, Ellen raised her champagne flute.

Belatedly, Laurel regretted mentioning Ben. “He’s a fiscally responsible man who thinks The Gift Horse is risky business.”

“That figures. Has he tried to protect you from yourself?”

Laurel managed a wan grin. “Yes. Obviously I paid no attention.”

“Ben can’t help himself. He simply has to take care of people.”

“Like Mike, you mean?”

Ellen studied the amber fluid in her flute. “Like everyone. Mike, Megan, his mother, his brother Terry—who knows who else? It’s in his nature.”

“That should be admirable.”

“Oh, it is. But sometimes the family takes advantage of him. Poor guy, here he is trying to establish a law practice, which can’t be easy in a place like this. Then his father died, and everything just fell to pieces.”

“And Ben’s the one doing the picking up.”

“Exactly. Sometimes I think their dependence on him is a way to avoid taking responsibility for their own lives. It doesn’t leave him much time for anything else.”

Laurel had a sick feeling where this was headed. “His personal life, you mean?”

Ellen shoved her empty goblet aside. “I used to think maybe Ben and I—”

“You’ve known him forever. It’s only natural you’d get together.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve recently come to some conclusions about Ben. He’s my friend, that’s all. If he had any other ideas, he’s had more than enough time to act on them.”

Laurel eyed her friend with concern. “Are you okay with that?”

“Surprisingly, I’m better than okay. Maybe it was loneliness, a fear of remaining single or something, but those aren’t good enough reasons for pursuing a relationship. My big
aha
came when I realized I’m comfortable with Ben, but I’m not in love with him.” She sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell you what a relief that discovery was.”

I’m relieved, too. But for an entirely different reason,
Laurel thought.

“Are you ready to order, ladies?” The waiter stood attentively beside their table, ending their conversation.

Later, over coffee, Laurel couldn’t help returning to the subject. “Tell me, Ellen. What was Ben like in high school?”

“He was loads of fun, but he was always the responsible type—the designated driver, captain of the football team, the spokesman for the students when the school administration was on our case. Now, with all the family obligations, it’s as if he can’t let down. I’m hoping this summer when his friend Jay Kelley is here on the weekends that Ben will lighten up.”

“Jay Kelley?”

“Katherine Sullivan’s grandson. He and Ben have been pals since boyhood.”

“Ben could use a friend about now,” Laurel said quietly.

“I’m one.” Ellen paused. “You can be one, too.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
, a Saturday, was even busier in the store. Mike worked on the flower beds and hauling trash, and Megan was a dynamo at the cash register. One woman from South Bend bought three children’s rockers, a dried floral arrangement and a case of apple butter. Another ordered an eight-piece place setting of pottery made by a ceramicist Laurel had discovered near Morgantown, West Virginia. Realistically, she knew every day wouldn’t be like these two, but it gave her a rush of satisfaction to see how her inventory delighted customers.

Ellen had been in to help this morning but had to leave for a two o’clock showing. Relieved that Ben was no longer a potential obstacle between them, Laurel looked forward to an even deeper friendship with Ellen, whose warmth, common sense and clear-eyed view of Belleporte Laurel was coming to appreciate more and more.

Half an hour before closing time, the sleigh bells on the front door tinkled, announcing another customer. “Mom,” Laurel heard Megan saying, “what are you doing here?”

As Laurel wove her way between displays to the front, she heard Maureen Nolan reply, “I wanted to see where you and Mike are working.” She turned toward Laurel. “And what Laurel has done with the Mansfield cottage. I couldn’t come yesterday,” she added apologetically. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate my day-care toddlers parading through the place.”

Laurel smiled. “That might have been an interesting challenge.” She held out her hand. “I’m glad you could come today. Let me show you around.”

Ben’s mother paused to inhale the scented candles and examine the workmanship of a rag doll. She ran her hands over the surface of a wooden cutting board. “These are beautiful, Laurel. You’ve done well.” Maureen laid a hand on Laurel’s shoulder, checking to be sure they were out of earshot. “I’m grateful to you for hiring Mike and Megan. It’s a big help to me. Not just financially, but because they feel useful.”

“They
are
useful. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“That’s nice of you. Mike, in particular, can be quite a handful.”

In the distance, Laurel heard Megan finishing up with the only other customer in the store. “Not around here. He’s a good worker.”

“That’s a relief.” Maureen picked up a bottle of maple syrup. “This looks like the real stuff.”

“It is.”

“I’ll take one.”

Laurel had a sense Maureen felt obligated to buy something, yet it would be insensitive to insist that wasn’t necessary. Laurel picked up the syrup, and the two returned to the front of the store. “Megan, how about showing off for your mother and handling the sale?”

Megan grinned impishly. “Watch, Mom. Megan, the all-star entrepreneur.” With dramatic flair, she took her mother’s money and opened the cash drawer.

While Megan was wrapping the maple syrup, Mike wandered in, his jeans muddy at the knees. “Anything else, Laurel?” Noticing his mother, he paused, his cheerful smile replaced by a mask of indifference. “Mom, what’re you doing in here?”

“I’m picking you up.”

“Megan could’ve taken me home.”

Maureen’s words were carefully neutral. “Yes, but I wanted to see the store.”

“Whatever.” Laurel noticed the nearly imperceptible shrug and heard him mutter as he walked out of the store, “Like I wouldn’t figure out you’re checking on me.”

The pleasant mood had turned chilly. Laurel didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Megan came to the rescue. She gestured toward the sack. “I can’t wait to try this syrup. You gonna make your famous pancakes tomorrow morning, Mom?”

Maureen’s features softened. “I just might.” She addressed Laurel. “All my kids will be home tomorrow. We’re having a big family brunch. Pancakes and syrup might be just the ticket to go with the ham.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Megan’s cheeks flushed. “Since so many people are coming, I mean, it wouldn’t be any trouble to add somebody else, would it?”

Maureen eyed her daughter challengingly. “I’m sure your boyfriend has his own plans.”

“Not him, Mom.
Laurel.
” Before Laurel could offer an excuse, Megan rattled on. “Laurel’s here all by herself. Sundays have to be lonely. Besides, I want her to meet Terry and Bess.” She finished triumphantly. “Then she’ll know all us Nolans.”