The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (199 page)

“Yes, but he was so much more. Benjamin Fray emigrated from Scotland as a boy of ten and was indentured to a local tobacco farmer who’d lost his only son to disease. The story goes that he took young Ben under his wing during the period of his indenture. So while Ben was working in the fields, he was learning everything there was to know about tobacco, from growing it to selling it. By the time his seven years were up, he’d amassed enough knowledge to start up his own business. His previous master sold him some acres on the outside of town, and he farmed until he was well into his forties, and was very successful. The farm, this house, and the lighthouse passed to his grandson, Eli, who in his later years was an active participant in the Underground Railroad.” Grace smiled.

“And then, of course, there were the pirates …”

“Pirates.”

“Oh yes, back in the day, more than one ship dropped anchor right out there in the cove. They’d come ashore for provisions—steal what they could and terrorize the locals a little while they were at it. But that’s a story of its own.”

“Who’d have guessed? The Underground Railroad and pirates, to boot. You certainly know your local history.”

“I was on the committee that researched some properties to be proposed for inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places. I got to know a lot about many of the places in town.”

“Is this property on the Register?”

“It’s still in the proposal stage, I’m afraid. We’ve had to go house by house to establish a historic district in the area of Old St. Mary’s Church Road, and that’s been very time-consuming. Once that project is completed, we’ll be starting on other properties in town. I’m sure that your house will qualify, though.”

“It does sound like it has quite a history.” Ellie thought for a moment. “So was the woman I bought the house from descended from Benjamin Fray?”

“No. The Ryders didn’t come into the picture until after the Civil War. Sometime in the 1870s. They purchased the house from Eli Fray’s widow. Eli died at Appomattox, fighting for the Confederacy, as some from around these parts did.”

Grace glanced around the room, her gaze pausing on the sideboard.

“Lilly always kept a pair of silver candelabras there on the sideboard. They were a wedding gift from Ted’s grandmother, and Lilly was very proud of them. She lit them every morning from Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, then didn’t light them again until Easter Sunday.”

“You knew Mrs. Cavanaugh well?”

“Oh, quite well. Perhaps not as well as my older brother, who was in her year at school. He had quite the crush on her back then, though he never would admit it. Now, if you want to know more about Lilly, you might talk to Violet Finneran.”

“The woman who works for Jesse Enright?”

Grace nodded. “She and Lilly and Jesse’s grandmother, Rose, were inseparable when they were younger. The three blossoms, people called them. Lilly, Rose, and Violet.”

Ellie smiled. “I love that. I love the old-fashioned names.”

“Violet could most likely answer any questions you might have about Lilly and her family.” Grace paused, then added, “And you might want to speak with Berry Eberle as well. She lived next door to the Ryders at one time—that’s Lilly’s maiden name.” Grace tilted her head for a moment. “Interesting that your last name is Ryder, dear.”

“I’m sure it’s just one of those cosmic coincidences.” Ellie shrugged and changed the subject, all the while mentally kicking herself. For some reason, she’d always thought that Ryder had come down through her father’s family. “Who’s Berry … what did you say her last name was?”

“Eberle. She lives in that big Victorian place over on River Road. If you see it once, you won’t forget it. You might have heard of her by her stage name. Beryl Townsend.”

“The movie star from, what, the thirties? Forties? Fifties?”

Grace nodded. “Forties, fifties, sixties, and even later. She was born here, left town when she was, oh, seventeen or eighteen, thereabouts, to make her mark on the film industry. Her grandniece is Dallas MacGregor. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

“I’ve seen many of her films. Brooke stopped over
yesterday and she mentioned that Dallas lived here, married a local boy.”

“She did. Grant Wyler is the local vet and has an animal rescue operation. If you’re thinking about adding a dog or cat—”

“I’m not,” Ellie said hastily. “No dogs, no cats. Maybe if I was staying longer, but I don’t know where I’ll be moving to, once the house is sold.”

“Well, it’s just a thought. Nice to have some furry companionship, especially on long winter nights. Always so nice to have a cat or a dog snuggled up next to you when you’re reading in front of a nice fire. We always had pets growing up, but nowadays, it seems every other person has some allergy, so living at the inn, we just can’t have animals anymore.” Grace glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear, I need to hustle. Today’s the day the ads come in for the newspaper and I’m running late. Do join us some morning for coffee. Everyone would love to get to know you better.”

“That’s very nice, but you know, I’m not going to be here very long.”
And am so not interested in anyone knowing me better
.

“That makes no difference, dear. Friends are where you find them, and sometimes you find them when you least suspect, in the oddest places at the strangest times.” Grace patted Ellie on the arm. “Perhaps one of these days, we’ll sit down together, you and I, and do an interview for my paper.”

Not while I breathe
, Ellie thought. Aloud, she said, “I’m really not a very interesting person, Grace.”

“Everyone is interesting in their own way. Sometimes we just don’t recognize it in ourselves.” Grace opened the door, then stopped short. “Oh, for heaven’s
sake, I almost forgot. In St. Dennis, we celebrate First Families Day. It’s always the third Sunday in November, and it’s to honor those determined folks who first settled here and stayed long enough to start the town. I hope you’ll join us for the little celebration.”

“What exactly do you do?” Ellie asked, curious in spite of her determination to remain detached.

“Oh, we have the obligatory speeches on the square down on Old St. Mary’s Church Road, there’s always a reenactment of some sort—last year we chose the attempted shelling of the town by the British during the War of 1812—and then we have a dinner at the Grange Hall. Everyone in town attends, but over the past few years, we see more and more ‘summer people’ coming back for the weekend. Which of course is good news for the inn and the B and Bs. You should join us. I think you’d find it to be an interesting day.”

“Thank you for mentioning it. I’ll certainly think about it.”

“Do. It would be especially fitting to have you with us this year.”

When Ellie raised a questioning eyebrow, Grace added, “Because this house has a connection to our early history, and to some people we were so fond of. It’s up to you, of course, if you’re free. I’ll have a ticket put aside for you, just in case you decide to join us.”

Grace hurried down the steps and onto the path that led to her car, waving over her shoulder as she went. Ellie waited until Grace’s car backed out of the driveway and passed by before closing the door. She’d been about to ask Grace about the Ryders’ connection to the town history while at the same time trying
to think of a way to politely decline the ticket, but the woman was gone before Ellie could get her mouth open.

I should have asked about my mother. I’ll bet Grace knew her. She seems to know everyone in town. And I should have asked more about the pirates
. Ellie shook her head.
Pirates indeed. Sounds like something Grace made up to sell newspapers
.

She put Grace’s welcoming gifts in the kitchen then went back into the dining room and began to empty the sideboard, where she found some of what she assumed was Lilly Cavanaugh’s silver, though not the candelabras Grace had spoken of. Not surprisingly, every piece she uncovered needed a good polishing. Silver polish was one thing she hadn’t thought to pick up at the market, so she’d have to make a trip.

“Just as well,” she muttered. “I am getting a little stir-crazy here.”

She changed out of the sweatshirt she’d been cleaning in and slipped on a sweater that was a little more presentable and ran a brush through her hair. Her mother had always impressed upon her the importance of making a nice appearance.

“Even,” Lynley had told her, “when you don’t feel like it or you don’t think it will matter.”

Or
, Ellie thought,
even when you don’t know anyone who might possibly care what you look like
.

Of course, her mother had been a natural beauty and the chances of Lynley making anything but a great appearance were pretty slim. She thought about Cameron’s remark, about how Lynley was beautiful even when she was ill, and the thought warmed her.

She stopped at the market and bought silver polish
and a few other things she needed, then on her way back home, made an impulsive right turn onto Kelly’s Point Road and parked behind One Scoop or Two, the local ice-cream shop she’d heard so much about. A little change in routine would be nice, she told herself as she got out of the car. She’d get a cone and walk along the water, maybe go as far as the marina and look at the boats that were still in the water. It was a beautiful day with lots of sunshine and no breeze off the Bay, and who knew how many more such days there would be?

The shop appeared empty when she entered, but the ringing bell over the door brought a tall woman from the back. She wore a Baltimore Ravens cap over honey-blond hair and an old sweatshirt very similar to the one Ellie had changed out of.

“Hi,” the woman greeted Ellie. “What can I get for you?”

Ellie scanned the blackboard on which the day’s flavors were written.

“Gosh, I don’t know. There are so many choices.” Ellie read the list a second time. “You make all these yourself?”

The blonde nodded. “I do. All in my little back room here. Today’s new-flavor testing day.” She pulled at the front of her sweatshirt where a smear of chocolate and something red could be seen.

“I feel so silly.” Ellie laughed self-consciously. “I can’t make up my mind.”

“Want a taste of what I’m working on while you decide?” Without waiting for an answer, the woman disappeared into the back room, then came back
holding a cardboard cup and a spoon. “Here. Try this.”

She loaded up the spoon and passed it over the counter to Ellie, who obediently ate it.

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing.” Ellie’s eyes widened. “What’s in it?”

“It’s a white chocolate ice-cream base, with cranberries and chocolate chunks.”

“This is truly amazing. I’ll buy a cone of this, if you have enough.”

“Finish what you have there in the dish, but I don’t really have enough to sell yet. Right now it’s still in the testing stage.”

“It’s so good,” Ellie told her, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“A good endorsement, thanks. I wanted something really special for the holidays.”

“I think you’ve got it.” Ellie finished off the small dish then went back to the board. “If that’s a sample of your work, I have to say, I’ve never had better ice cream.”

“Thanks.” The shop owner blushed modestly. “It’s really a labor of love.”

“I’m going to try the apple cinnamon raisin, I think.”

“Excellent choice. That’s a big favorite. One of the first ice creams I ever made.”

“What made you decide to make ice cream, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ellie watched as the woman scooped the selected ice cream into a dish.

“I don’t mind at all. When I was little, one of my grandmother’s cousins used to make ice cream for us in one of those old crank things?” She smiled at the
memory. “He used to let me turn the crank. Then, as I got older, he let me add things, and it just went from there to me making up the flavors. It’s really all I ever wanted to do.” She handed Ellie the dish. “Oh, I should have asked you if you wanted a cone.”

“This is fine.” Ellie met her at the cash register and was counting out change when the bell over the door rang again.

“Oh, look who’s here!” The shopkeeper clapped her hands. “Aunt Steffie’s favorite baby girl and her mama.”

Ellie turned to see a pretty dark-haired woman struggling to get a stroller through the door. She left her dish and bag on the counter and went to help.

“Oh, thank you.” The baby’s mama flashed a smile. “The door doesn’t stay open long enough to get the stroller in.” She pulled the stroller over the threshold and parked it at the closest table, then turned it around.

Ellie looked down into the face of one of the prettiest babies she’d ever seen.

“With all that pink, I’m going out on a limb and guessing a girl,” Ellie said.

“I know, right?” The mother laughed good-naturedly. “Pink blanket, pink hat, pink clothes …”

“You’re such a girl, Vanessa.” The shop owner came around the counter and crouched in front of the stroller. “How’s Aunt Steffie’s doll baby today?”

“She’s teething.” The mother—Vanessa, apparently—settled into a chair. “She’s been a very unhappy girl for the past few days because of it.”

“Well, she certainly looks happy now. Because she loves her aunt Steffie best, isn’t that right, sweet pea?”
Steffie unstrapped the baby’s restraints and lifted her from the stroller.

“What’s your baby’s name?” Ellie heard herself asking. She was still at the counter, waiting to pay for her ice cream, a fact that the shop owner apparently forgot.

“Penelope Jane, but we call her Poppy.” The baby’s mother turned to address Ellie.

“That’s adorable, and so is she.”

“Thank you. We’re pretty sure we’re going to keep her.”

“Aunt Steffie will keep her if you decide to the contrary.” The shopkeeper held the baby up in the air, and the baby laughed. “Poppy can’t wait until she’s old enough for ice cream. And when she is, she’ll have a flavor named just for her. We’ll call it … Poppy Pink. Which reminds, me, Ness, I have a new flavor for you to try.” She handed the baby to her mother, then gestured to Ellie and said, “We’ve had one big thumbs-up here so far.”

“It’s excellent,” Ellie said.