The Chesapeake Diaries Series (273 page)

A new sign at the corner of Kelly’s Point Road pointed toward the Bay, and listed the attractions one would find by following the arrow: public parking, the municipal building, the marina, Walt’s Seafood—Ford was pleased to see that the St. Dennis landmark restaurant was still open—and something called One Scoop or Two.

His mother hadn’t been kidding when she said there’d been a lot of changes in a very short period of time.

Farther down Charles Street was the right turn for home. He turned onto the drive that led to the inn and stopped the car. A very large, handsome sign pointed the way to the Inn at Sinclair Point. The drive itself had been recently black-topped, some of the trees on either side had been cut back, and it was now, he realized, two full lanes wide where, for as long as he remembered, it had been one.

What next?
Ford wondered as he drove around the bend and got his first view of the inn that had been his family home and business for generations.

The large, sprawling main building had been painted since he left, the fading white walls now rejuvenated. The cabins that faced the bay had been painted as well, and he noted that the front of each now sported a window box that overflowed with summer flowers. He parked his car in the very full visitors’ lot and sat for a moment, trying to take it all in. There were new tennis courts, a fenced-in playground, and if he wasn’t mistaken, jutting out into the Bay was a new dock—longer and wider—to which
several boats were tied. Kayaks and canoes lined the lush lawn that stretched toward the water like a carpet of smooth green Christmas velvet.

And everywhere, it seemed, people were engaged in one activity or another.

“Damn.” Ford whistled under his breath. “Mom wasn’t kidding when she said they’d made a lot of changes.”

He got out of the car and looked around. While so much was different, the inn still somehow felt the same. Of course, he reminded himself as he gathered his bags out of the trunk of the car, it was still home.

Home. He stared at the building that loomed before him, where a seemingly endless stream of people came and went through the door to the back lobby. No amount of paint or landscaping or added features could change the way he felt when his feet touched ground at Sinclair’s Point. The restlessness he’d experienced when his plane landed that morning began to fade, but it was still there, under the surface. He knew that the sense of peace he felt would be fleeting, and could not be trusted.

He barely made it across the parking lot when his sister flew out from the back door.

“You’re late, you bugger! We’ve been pacing for hours!” Lucy threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“My plane was late.” He dropped his bags and returned the hug for a moment, then held her at arm’s length. “But look at you. You’re all tan and your hair’s long again.” He tugged on her pony tail. “When I left, you had that short ’do and you were working your tail off out in L.A., and now you’re …”

“Working my tail off in St. Dennis.” She laughed.

“Business is good?”

“Business is great. If we were any busier, we’d be double-booking dates and holding weddings in the parking lot.”

“Well, you must be doing something right, because you look a million times better than you did the last time I saw you. I’m guessing marriage agrees with you.”

“Totally. Work is good, home life is fantastic. I never thought I’d come back to St. Dennis to live—and me, live on a farm? Ha! But I guess it just goes to show, never say never.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, sis.”

“Never happier.” Lucy took his arm. “Let’s go inside. Mom has been pacing like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I would believe. Mom never changes.”

“I hope not. She’s amazing, with all she does here at the inn, and she still keeps the newspaper going. Of course, that’s her baby.” Lucy chatted away as they walked to the inn. “She still does the features and most of the photographs—though sometimes someone in town will have a great shot of something or other and she’ll use it. She did hire someone to do the ads, though, and someone to handle the books. And of course, the printing and mailing …”

Ford frowned. “Mailing? Since when has she mailed out the paper? Who’s she mailing it to?”

“You
have
been away awhile. Gone are the days when you could only pick up a copy at the grocery store or Sips.” Lucy grinned. “The
St. Dennis Gazette
now has out-of-town subscribers, mostly summer
people who want to keep up with what’s going on in town so they’ll know when to plan to come back. She mails the paper every week to places as far away as Maine, Illinois, and Nebraska. In your absence, little brother, the family business has become the go-to spot on the Chesapeake. We’re big doin’s, kiddo.”

He paused and looked around. “The place looks amazing. And busy! I don’t remember ever seeing so many people here, especially this late in the summer. And I see there’s been a lot of work done on the grounds. I don’t remember a gazebo there.” He nodded toward the structure that sat between colorful flowerbeds and the water.

“We had a professional landscaper in last summer and he suggested the new gazebo and designed the new gardens at my request,” Lucy explained. “I had a big-ticket wedding here, and the bride wanted the ceremony out on the lawn overlooking the Bay. Since she was dropping a bundle, we did what we had to do to make the area as gorgeous as we could.”

“Well, you succeeded. It’s really beautiful.” He took one more look around before reaching for the door. “Who’d have ever thought the old place could look like this?”

“Dan, that’s who. That brother of ours was determined to make the inn shine, and he did.”

Ford opened the door and held it for his sister. Once inside, he gazed around the lobby, then whistled.

“Nice.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Lucy grinned. “Not fancy, but just … upscale and cool.”

“Like me.” Dan emerged from behind the reception desk. “Hey, buddy …”

Ford dropped his bags and hugged his older brother. “I can’t believe what I’ve seen here so far. You’ve done a great job. Dad would be so proud.”

“I like to think so.” Dan gave Ford one last pat on the back before releasing him. “But the inn’s old news to us. How are you? Glad to be home?”

“I’m dazzled by the changes, but yeah, glad to be here.”

“I hope you can stay for a while.” Dan picked up his brother’s bags.

“I don’t have any plans right now. I’m just glad to be back in the States, glad to see you guys again.” Ford glanced around the lobby. “Where’s Ma?”

“She’s in her office. She’s been pacing like an expectant father since dawn. Come on.” Dan headed across the lobby, Ford and Lucy following behind.

“Ma has an office here?”

Lucy nodded. “She still has the newspaper office, but she likes to work here sometimes. Says she likes to keep an eye on things, likes to see the comings and goings.”

“There sure seems to be a lot of that going on,” Ford observed.

“Never been busier.” Dan rapped his knuckles on a half-opened door, then pushed it open. “Mom, look who’s here.”

Grace was out of her chair, arms around her son, in the blink of an eye. She held him for a very long moment.

“Well, then,” she said as she stepped back to hold him at arm’s length, “let me have a good look at you.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve lost so much
weight. Your face is so thin. Are you feeling all right?” She looked around him to address Dan. “Tell the chef he’s going to be working overtime until we put a few pounds back on your brother.”

Ford laughed. “Ma, I’m fine. I might have lost a few pounds, but you know, where I’ve been, fine dining was only a dim memory. A
very
dim memory.”

“And where have you been?” Grace forced him to look into her eyes.

“Here and there,” he told her. “Africa, mostly.”

“That covers a lot of ground, son,” she said softly.

Ford nodded. He knew she was fishing for details, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to savor the experience of being home. He knew there’d be questions to answer, but the longer he could leave the past behind him, the better off he’d be.

“Well, we can get the whole story from Ford over dinner.” Dan stood in the doorway. “Right now, let’s get you settled in, then we can get together in the dining room and have a great dinner. We managed to snag a phenomenal chef from a fine D.C. restaurant last year. He’s part of the reason we’re such a hot destination venue for parties and weddings.”

“Ahem.” Lucy coughed.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Dan smiled at his sister. “Lucy’s skills as an event planner are what really made our name, but the chef has turned out some pretty spectacular meals.”

“We gave him the menu for tonight.” Grace took Ford’s arm as they walked into the lobby. “All of your favorites.”

“That’s great, Ma. Thanks.”

“How ’bout you and I go out to your car and get the rest of your bags?” Dan offered.

Ford held up the two bags he’d brought with him. “This is it. Been living in tents or huts for the past six years, so I don’t own very much.”

Their expressions said it all.

“Really,” he told them. “It wasn’t always that bad.”

They walked toward the stairwell in silence and Ford could only imagine what they were thinking. When they got to the bottom of the steps, his mother said, “Oh. Dan’s son D.J.’s been using your old room, dear, so we moved you to another suite. I hope it’s all right.”

“It’s fine, Ma. Any room that has a bed and a bathroom with a working shower is more than fine,” he assured her.

“There really isn’t another room in the family wing, since Diana has Lucy’s old room. We needed to keep Dan’s children together, and …”

“Ma, don’t worry about it.”

“I saved a special room for you.” Dan took Ford’s bags from his brother’s hands. “Overlooks the bay, has a sitting room and a bedroom. Nice fireplace, one of the few rooms that has its own balcony …”

“Captain Tom’s old room?” Ford paused on the step.

“Yup.”

Ford grinned. “I always wanted to sleep in that room.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Dan grinned back.

“Dan, don’t you think the room just around the
corner from our suite might be more appropriate?” Grace frowned and gave her eldest son a look of clear disapproval.

“Nah. You heard Ford. He wants that room.” Dan continued up the steps.

“Ford,” Grace called from the bottom of the steps. When he turned, she said, “That room might have a few”—she cleared her throat—“cold spots. You might be more comfortable sleeping in a different room.”

“ ‘Cold spots’ is Mom’s shorthand for ‘uninvited guests,’ if you get my drift,” Dan whispered loud enough for their mother to hear.

“Daniel, you know there have been reports …” Grace waved her hands in defeat. “Oh, never mind.”

“Ma, you still think that the old captain is hanging around?” Ford laughed. “Dan used to try to scare me with that old tale about how the old man never left the building and how he haunts his old room.” He winked at Grace. “I don’t scare quite as easily anymore. But I’ll tell you what. If Tom shows up, I’ll be sure to get an interview for the
Gazette
. Can’t promise a photo, though …”

He took the steps two at a time to catch up to Dan, who’d already reached the second-floor landing.

“You remember the way?” Dan asked.

“Sure. End of this hall, take a right and go to the end. Last door on the left. I used to sneak in there every chance I got. Never did see the captain, though.”

“I think that was something Mom made up to keep us from going out onto that balcony and falling off.” Dan made the turn onto the side corridor and Ford followed.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. She and Dad had any number of crazy stories about their ancestors. Tom was, what, Great-granny Hunt’s maternal grandfather?”

“Something like that. I know he went back about four generations.” Dan handed one of the bags off to Ford so he could search his pockets for the key to the room. “Sea captain, had a whole fleet of ships at one time. Rumored to have been a Union spy during the Civil War. Smuggled slaves north in his ships.”

“That’s his portrait downstairs in the library, isn’t it?” Ford asked.

“Used to be. Now he’s hanging right over the fireplace in here.” Dan fitted the key into the lock and gave the door knob a good twist. The door swung open silently.

The two men entered the suite through a short hall that led to a sitting room with a brick fireplace over which hung the ancestor in question.

“Ah, there’s the old guy.” Ford stood with his hands on his hips. “Good to see you again, old man.”

The portrait’s dark eyes seemed to be looking back at them as they entered the room.

“I’m sure he’s happy to see you again, too.” Dan went past him into the bedroom. “There’s only a light blanket on the bed, but if you need something else, just let housekeeping know. It’s been pretty hot lately, and even though we have central air these days, this part of the building doesn’t seem to cool off quite as well as some of the others.”

“Central air, huh? So much for Ma’s cold spots.” Ford followed Dan into the bedroom where an old poster bed stood directly opposite a pair of French
doors. Ford crossed the room to open them, stepped out onto the balcony, and inhaled deeply. “Ah, the Chesapeake. Nothing smells quite like it.”

“Be grateful we had this end of the marsh dredged last year, or you’d be smelling something else entirely.”

Ford laughed. “Hey, that marshy smell is a big part of one of my fondest childhood memories.”

“Yeah, you and that buddy of yours …”

“Luke Boyer.”

“Yeah, him. I remember the two of you used to spend hours out there and come home covered in mud and mosquito bites.”

“Tracking nutrias. Never caught any—never really wanted to. The fun was all in the hunt.”

“You’d find the hunting not as good these days. Nutrias have been mostly eradicated in this area. I’d like to get my hands on the guy who thought it would be a good idea to raise those nasty little things.” Dan stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.

“I don’t think anyone expected them to get loose. I think it was someone’s get-rich-quick scheme. Raise the animals, sell them for their pelts. Just didn’t turn out that way.”