The Chesapeake Diaries Series (204 page)

“What’s happening on Sunday?”

“St. Dennis’s First Families Day. Sort of like founders’ day, from what I understand. I don’t know exactly what they do, but everyone I’ve met down here keeps telling me I have to go.”

“Cool. We’ll do it.”

“Want me to give you directions?”

“GPS, El.”

“Right. So how long do you think you can stay?”

“Maybe till Monday. I have something tentatively scheduled for Tuesday in Philadelphia, but we’ll see. I’m hoping we can move that up so I can take a few extra days. Assuming it’s all right with you.”

“Of course. Stay as long as you can. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait, either. I’m dying to see that fabulous little town—and of course, Miss Dune. You, too.”

“I doubt the dog will still be here. I totally expect someone to call tonight when they get home and find her missing and call the police department.”

“Well, I’m hoping they’re out of town for the weekend so I can meet her. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed having a dog since Bowser crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.”

“Is that a euphemism for …?”

“See, if you’d had a dog even once, you’d know. You’d know and you’d understand.”

“My father wouldn’t let us have a dog. He didn’t think animals belonged in the house.”

“Just goes to show what he knows.” Carly yawned. “Sorry.”

“Hang up and go right to bed, get lots of sleep so you can make the drive tomorrow without falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Good point. I’ll give you a call if I think I’ll be later than three tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great. Have a safe trip, Car.”

“Will do.”

Ellie disconnected the call and left the phone on the coffee table.

“What should I do first?” she wondered aloud, then realized that she was talking to the dog.

“I’m talking to a dog.”

The newly christened Dune tilted her head to one side.

“I’ll bet that’s nothing new to you. I’ll bet your people talk to you all the time because you’re such a good listener.”

Ellie got up from the sofa and looked around the room. “Things look pretty good in here and in the dining room. The kitchen can wait until the morning. Of course, the floor in there is partially ripped up, but
that can’t be helped. So I’m thinking that now is a good time to get a room ready for Carly.” She started toward the stairs and the dog followed her. “Which room do you think? The one next to mine, or the one across the hall?”

Dune’s nails tapped on the hardwood as she kept up with Ellie.

“Right. The one across the hall. That’s what I was thinking, too. So she’ll have her own bathroom. Good choice.”

Ellie stripped the bed of its sheets and the faded green chenille bedspread and took the whole pile to the first floor, where she stuffed it all into a laundry basket that had spent the past who-knew-how-many years in a closet on the second floor, and left it near the front door. First thing in the morning, she’d make a run to the Laundromat. Maybe she’d even make a stop at the supermarket to pick up a small bouquet of flowers. She’d put them in one of the art pottery vases she found in the pantry and place them on the table next to the bed in the room she—and Dune—had selected for Carly.

Maybe, she thought as she checked the locks on the front, back, and basement doors, she’d look through that box of recipe cards she’d uncovered in a kitchen closet and actually attempt to bake something to share with her friend over tea tomorrow afternoon.

The important thing was that Carly was coming to visit. The one person—the only person—who’d stood by Ellie, who knew all of her secrets and all of her warts and loved her anyway, would be here tomorrow, and for just a few days, Ellie could drop the pretense
and the outright lies about who she was, where she came from, and where she was going.

She wondered how it would feel to be Ellis Chapman again.

It might be nice.

Chapter 9

E
arly the next morning, a thumping sound from the back of the house sent Dune barking and Ellie to investigate.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Cameron O’Connor stood at the top of the tall metal ladder that stretched all the way to the roof. He glanced over his shoulder at Ellie as he tossed a glob of leaves to the ground. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean that up before I leave.”

“What are you doing?” she asked from the porch.

“Cleaning your gutters. We’re in for one heck of a rain come Monday, if the meteorologists know what they’re talking about. Not that they always do, but why take a chance?” He held up another glob of wet leaves. “Your gutters are worse than I thought. I should have kept a closer eye on them.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem”—he started back down the ladder—“is that the gutters get clogged with leaves, then the water can’t get to the downspout, where it could just flow nicely to the ground. Instead, it overflows the sides of the gutters and can rot your siding eventually.”

He picked up the leaves he’d dropped and pitched them into a bucket near the base of the ladder.

“This is really very nice of you, but you know, you don’t have to.…”

“Actually, I do.” He smiled at her, then turned to move the ladder a few feet toward the end of the house.

Ellie leaned against the porch rail but straightened up when she felt it give a little. She watched Cameron climb the ladder, watched the way his sweatshirt stretched across his shoulders. There were worse ways a girl could spend a few minutes early on a Saturday morning.

“So when did you get the dog?” he asked without looking down.

“I didn’t get a dog. She followed me back from the dune yesterday and I couldn’t leave her outside in that storm. I called the police station and told them I had her in case her owner reported her missing but I haven’t heard back from them.”

“Cute little thing.”

“She is. And she’s very sweet. I know someone is missing her.”

“Maybe she’s one of Grant’s dogs.”

“Grant?”

“Grant Wyler. The local vet. Good chance he’d recognize the dog if it’s local. He also runs a rescue shelter over at his clinic, gets dogs from kill shelters down south and tries to find homes for them.”

“Someone else mentioned him. I can’t imagine she’s a shelter dog, though. She’s very well trained.”

“Lots of rescue dogs are well trained. There are all sorts of reasons why dogs end up in shelters. Their
owners die or lose their jobs and can’t afford to take care of them, or they have to move and can’t have pets in their new place, or their kids are allergic, or they—”

“Stop.” Ellie put her hands over her ears. “It’s too sad. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to give up a pet that you loved.”

“When did you say you found this dog?” He turned and looked down at her.

“Yesterday.”

“And you’re already this attached?”

“I’m not attached. It’s just sad, that’s all.”

“Right.” Cam went back to scooping handfuls of gook from the gutter. He dropped another handful of leaves. “Good luck.”

“Yes, well.” She watched him climb down the ladder. “Thanks again, Cameron. For …” She gestured toward the roof and the gutter.

“You’re welcome, but I should have done this back in September.”

“I appreciate that you’re doing it at all. I wouldn’t have known that it had to be done.”

“So I take it this is your first house.”

“First one I’ve been responsible for.”

“Always lived in apartments?” he asked.

“Yes.”
Well, except for the several mansions I used to call home, but for the purpose of this conversation, they don’t count, because there was always a staff to handle whatever had to be done
.

Ellie couldn’t remember her father ever asking about having the gutters cleaned in any of their former homes. Someone was always there to just do it.
She wondered if her father even knew that such things had to be done.

Cameron was back on the ground and moving the ladder to the corner of the house.

“Can I offer you some coffee or something?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I need to get this done and get to a meeting.” He flashed a smile again. “I’ll take a rain check, though.”

He really has a pretty terrific smile, she thought as she watched him ascend the ladder once more.

“Sure.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and thought about all the things she had to do between now and Carly’s arrival. “Well, I guess I’ll let you finish up so you can make your meeting.”

She called to the dog, who’d been sniffing at the clots of wet leaves that dotted the ground near the ladder, then opened the back door.

“Hey, Ellie.”

She turned back and looked up toward the roof, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun.

“There’s live music at Captain Walt’s tonight, down near the marina. Want to join me for some great Maryland seafood and some mediocre jazz?”

Surprised by the invitation, Ellie hesitated for a moment. “Thanks, Cameron, but I’m having company this weekend. Maybe another time?”

“Sure,” he replied from the top of the ladder. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” She frowned. “Oh, you mean the First Families thing. I guess so.”

“Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

She went back inside and Dune scooted after her.
She washed the breakfast dishes and tried to decide how she felt about Cameron asking her out.

She searched for the to-do list she’d had in her hand when she came downstairs earlier. She found it and sat at the table to go over it. If she concentrated really hard, she could ignore the fact that a really great-looking guy was at that moment climbing around her house and cleaning her gutters, and that he’d just asked her out on a date. It had come so unexpectedly that she hadn’t had time to think much about a response. Of course, she’d been unable to accept, but if not for Carly’s visit, would she have?

Tough call
, she thought.

On the one hand, seeing anyone socially could lead to complications. What if one date led to another, and that one to another still? Dating implied a relationship, and what kind of a relationship could you possibly have with someone you’re lying to about the most fundamental things? Like who you are and where you came from and how you really acquired the house you’re living in.

On the other hand, Cameron O’Connor seemed like a special kind of guy, a guy who was thoughtful and interesting and nice to be around, not to mention that he was pretty hot. If she were to date anyone in St. Dennis, he’d be the first guy she’d want to spend time with.

And then there was the fact that it might be nice to connect with someone here in St. Dennis who remembered—who
knew
—her mother, even if he wasn’t aware of the relationship.

Interesting—curious, even—that he still felt such a strong sense of responsibility to this house and to
Lilly Cavanaugh. He’d said that he’d known her and that she was very kind and sweet, but surely there had to be more to it than just remembering a sweet, kindly old woman who’d been dead for many years.

All of her senses told her there was a story there that he wasn’t sharing. She thought back to a conversation she’d had with him a week or so ago. She’d shown him silver she’d found in the sideboard and had polished the night before.

“I still can’t believe that this house has been vacant for all these years and it hasn’t been broken into,”
she’d said.

“Like I said, a lot of people have been keeping an eye on the place,”
he’d told her.

“Including you.”

“Especially me.”

She’d wanted to ask him at the time if there was any particular reason for his vigilance, but he’d polished off his coffee and headed out before she could inquire. Maybe if he asked her out again, she should go, if for no other reason than to find out why his attachment to this house was so strong.

Of course, the fact that the guy was very easy on the eyes would be merely a bonus.

A glance at the clock told her she was running behind her self-imposed schedule. She’d found a recipe for scones that looked pretty simple, and thought she’d mix up a batch of them so she’d have a snack to offer Carly when she arrived later this afternoon. She grabbed her bag, closed Dune in the kitchen, and went out through the front door. Cameron was still working on the gutters on the side of the house when she drove past. If he was still there when she returned
from running her errands, she’d take him coffee or a bottle of water, but she suspected he’d be long gone by the time she got back.

Sure enough, the pickup was no longer parked near her mailbox when she arrived home. The laundry had taken longer than she’d planned, and she’d been held up in the grocery store by Grace Sinclair, who insisted on introducing her to several other ladies, all of whom appeared to be of Grace’s era. But she did manage to pick up a copy of the
St. Dennis Gazette
, Grace’s newspaper. Ellie tucked the paper into her shoulder bag, thinking that at some future date, she’d follow up with Grace to see what the older woman recalled about Lynley’s time in St. Dennis.

Once inside, Ellie cut the stems of the mixed bouquet she’d picked up at the market and arranged the flowers in a dark blue vase. She carried them up the stairs in one hand and the sheets for Carly’s room in the other. She made the bed, rearranged the flowers, and opened one of the windows to bring in some fresh air.

She got out the ingredients for the scones on the counter and turned on the oven to preheat it, then mixed the scones, which she baked on a cookie sheet she found in one of the cupboards. By the time she heard a car’s engine out front, the scones were cooling on a plate.

“Yay, Carly’s here.” Ellie grabbed a sweater from the back of a kitchen chair and dashed out the door, Dune at her heels. She slowed as she crossed the lawn, staring as her friend got out of the sleek sports car parked in the driveway. “Whoa, Carly! Those are some fancy wheels.”

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Carly tossed an oversize bag over her shoulder and slammed the door of the shiny silver Porsche 911. “I just picked her up yesterday. Thought I’d take her on a test run.”