The Inn at Angel Island (12 page)

Was that her nephew, Will? She couldn’t believe it.

She watched as they got out of the car and Peter opened the trunk. Will got out of his side and walked to the back of the car. He was as tall as his father now, maybe even taller; it was hard to tell with his thick pile of dark hair.

“Look at Will. He’s so big, I didn’t even recognize him,” Liza said aloud. “I’ll go out and see if they need any help.”

Claire met her gaze and nodded with a gentle smile. “Let me know if you need a hand,” she said simply, then continued working on the china.

Liza ran out the front door and around to the drive. The cold air cut through the fine wool of her turtleneck, but she hardly missed a coat.

“Hey, you made it.” She ran up to her brother and greeted him with a big hug.

Peter hugged her back. “All the way from Tucson to Angel Island. It feels like we’ve landed on another planet,” he said.

Liza hadn’t thought about that before, but her brother had been living out in the desert since he started college, almost twenty years now. It must feel strange to come back to this place surrounded by water.

She was eager to say hello to Will, but he stood with his back to her, gazing out at the ocean.

“Has Will ever seen the ocean before?” she asked Peter.

“Once or twice. We took some trips to California. But not since he was much younger.”

Liza walked over to Will and touched his shoulder. “Hi, Will. It’s good to see you.”

“Hey, Aunt Liza.” Will glanced at her, then looked back at the water. He had plugs in his ears, which led down to an iPod in his T-shirt pocket.

Liza wondered if he could even hear her but continued the conversation anyway. “You’ve gotten so tall. I hardly recognized you,” she said with amazement.

He turned again and met her glance. “Everybody says that. Like I’m a giant freak or something.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said quickly. “You just look all grown-up, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I know.” He sighed and looked over at his father. “Dad, I’m really hungry. Can we get something to eat?”

“Can you help with these bags, Will?” Peter ignored his son’s question, his voice flat and tired. Liza didn’t blame him. It was a long trip, and it sounded as if they had been traveling all night. Will rolled his eyes and walked back to the car.

Liza followed. “I can help,” she offered. She grabbed a duffel out of the trunk right after Will did and gave her nephew a smile. Finally, he smiled back.

Peter took the last duffel and slung a backpack over his shoulder, then shut the trunk. Liza noticed his care with the pack and guessed he had camera equipment in there. Peter rarely traveled without a camera or three.

As they marched into the inn, Claire stood in the foyer near the staircase, her hands folded primly in front of her. She might have been a statue, Liza thought, except for the warm sparkle in her blue eyes.

“Welcome, Peter and . . . Will. Is that right?”

Peter put his bags down and extended a hand. “You must be Claire North. It’s nice to meet you. Liza’s told me a lot about you.”

A lot? She hadn’t said a lot. Just a few significant details, Liza thought.

“It’s good to meet you, Peter.” Claire’s voice was warm and sincere. She turned to greet Will, but he was fiddling with his iPod and seemed to be purposely ignoring the housekeeper.

“Why don’t we just leave the bags down here for now?” Liza suggested. “Are you guys hungry? We’ll make you some sandwiches or something—”

“I’ll take a sandwich,” Will cut in quickly.

“Please
.
”
his father suggested.

Will just stared at him, then shook his head and stomped toward the kitchen.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ve embarrassed him now. Gail says he’s too old to be corrected in front of other people, but he doesn’t have any manners.”

Liza didn’t have any kids and wasn’t about to take sides, but she could see how Will wouldn’t want to be corrected in front of her and Claire.

“Children that age will get embarrassed about anything,” Claire put in. “Even the way you breathe annoys them.”

Peter turned to Claire, looking validated. “He did say that to me once; I’m not kidding.” Then he suddenly looked alarmed. “I’d better catch up to him,” he said, “before he cleans out the refrigerator.”

Liza and Claire followed Peter to the kitchen, where they found Will standing at the counter, polishing off the remains of the chicken pot pie.

“Will, what are you doing? We’re guests here.” Peter’s voice was low and tense. He stepped over to Will and took the pie dish from his hand.

Will looked surprised, a bit of carrot hanging from his lip. “Dad, just chill. I’m just getting something to eat. You’re, like, flipping out on me.”

“It’s all right,” Liza said quickly. “We’re family. He can help himself to anything he likes.”

“I’m, like, starving here, and you’re standing out there talking. I thought you said you owned half of this place,” Will added in an accusing tone. “Doesn’t that include the food?”

“It certainly does,” Claire told Will. “But you really want to eat this warmed up. It has no flavor otherwise.”

She stepped forward, took the pie dish, placed a piece of paper towel on top, and stuck it in the microwave. “Just wash your hands and take a seat over there.” She pointed to the long table. “I’ll bring this over to you when it’s ready.”

Will scowled at her, but her expression remained smooth and calm. “There’s chocolate pudding pie for dessert. Interested?”

Will finally nodded. “Okay, I guess,” he said, as if she had been working hard to persuade him.

He walked over to the sink and washed up. Peter watched, then glanced at Liza. Liza didn’t say anything, relieved that the conflict had been so easily smoothed over. By Claire, of course.

If this is a preview of the next ten days, I’ d better fasten my seat belt,
Liza thought.

It was going to be a bumpy ride.

 

 

WHILE Will was fed—and calmly tolerated—by Claire in the kitchen, Peter and Liza took some coffee out to the front porch. Liza had unwrapped a few chairs from their plastic coverings and set them near the front door. Peter settled down in one of the big Adirondack chairs, but Liza stood at the railing a moment and looked out at the patch of blue ocean and sky.

It felt good to get some fresh air after being in the house all day, dealing with dusty china—and her own chipped and cracked ambitions.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Mostly,” she answered, not wanting to go into her problems. “How about you?”

Peter zipped up his fleece pullover and stretched out his legs. The wooden Adirondack chair suited him. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

She turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

Peter gave her a wry grin. “I’m telling myself it’s not the end of the world. I mean, I’m healthy and Will is—well, a teenage boy. It’s just that business has been awful lately, Liza. I know everyone is hurting these days, but I’m really limping along. Any cash reserves I had tucked away were eaten up by the divorce. I’m more or less winging it,” he admitted. “I really do need the money from this house. I hope that real estate lady was telling the truth.”

Liza had known her brother was eager to receive his share of the profits from the sale of the inn, but she hadn’t realized money was so tight for him right now. And he had a kid to worry about, too.

“I don’t think Fran Tulley was exaggerating,” she said carefully. “People around here are pretty excited about the changes on the island. Though there’s definitely a faction who don’t want the changes,” she added, thinking of Daniel.

Peter shrugged. “There will always be people like that, but they usually don’t win.”

“No, they don’t,” Liza agreed. Though she secretly thought that in some cases it would be better if the naysayers did win out and progress wasn’t so inevitable.

“How soon can she bring buyers around?”

“Fran’s coming by in a little while with a contract for us to sign,” Liza told him, “an agreement with her agency for the right to sell the property. We can ask her then.”

“Okay, I will. Good work setting all this up, Liza,” he added. “I know I haven’t been any help so far.”

No, you haven’t,
Liza nearly answered.
And I definitely have more important things going on than dealing with this old place.

But she didn’t want to snipe at him. The delay in his arrival hadn’t been his fault. Now that he was here, she knew he would pull his share of the weight. Maybe even Will would help.

“So, was it hard to get Will to come? How did you persuade him to give up the camping trip?”

Peter gave her an embarrassed look. “I had to bribe him.”

“You bribed him? How?”

Peter shrugged. “He wants a new phone. An iPhone or something like that. It does everything but floss your teeth. I told him I’d get it for him, but he had to chip in part of the money,” Peter hurried to add. “I know it’s wrong to pay him off like that with material gifts, but I didn’t know what else to do . . . You think I’m an awful father now, don’t you?”

Liza shook her head. “Of course not. I think you’re just caught in a tough situation. I’m not judging you, Peter. I don’t have any children. What do I know?”

He didn’t answer, just gazed out at the ocean beyond the open land across the road. “It’s been difficult since the divorce. I hardly ever get to see him anymore. One night a week and alternate weekends. It’s not enough time. He just starts letting down his guard and warming up to me, and it’s time to go. We used to have a good relationship. Now everything I do is wrong. Or stupid. Or embarrassing.”

“Isn’t that pretty much expected for kids his age? Teenage angst and all that?”

Peter turned to her. “It’s more than that. The problem is . . . well, it’s really Gail,” he said, finally mentioning his ex-wife. “She’s brain-washed Will against me. I don’t know who he thinks I am anymore. I’ve gone back to court for shared custody,” he added. “I want Will to live with me half of the time so we won’t have this threadbare, fractured relationship. He’s going into high school next fall. Four short years and he’ll be on his own. This is my last chance to be a real father to him, you know?”

“What are your chances to win shared custody?” Liza asked.

“Pretty good,” he said hopefully. “Fathers have more rights in court these days. But Will has a lot of say in the situation now. He isn’t a baby. So far . . . well, he just shrugs when I ask how he feels about living with me half of the time. Either he hasn’t made up his mind, or he’s afraid to give me the bad news.”

Liza reached out and touched his arm. “When will the court decide?”

“There’s a hearing in a few weeks, but I’m not even sure I’m going to keep pushing for it. Will seems so distant from me. I’m surprised he agreed to come here,” he added in a quieter tone. “Even with the new phone thrown into the deal.”

“Maybe that’s a good sign.”

Peter shrugged again. “Well, he did seem excited about the beach.”

“And you’ll be able to spend time with him here without Gail interfering,” Liza pointed out.

“True. I guess I have to look at it more positively.” Peter glanced at her. “Who knows? Maybe it will turn out to be a good thing that I had to drag him out here.”

“I hope so,” she said sincerely. “Besides, I’m looking forward to getting to know him again, too.”

Peter got to his feet and gazed out at the surf breaking along the shore. “I haven’t seen an ocean in ages. What a sight.” He walked over to the porch rail. “I want to take some pictures of this place. The whole island, I mean, not just the inn. I wanted to show Will some photos before we left, and I couldn’t find any. I guess I wasn’t really into photography until we were older and I’d stopped coming out here so much.”

“I think so,” Liza agreed. “There’s no lack of photos in that house, though. I feel as if I’m a curator in a photo archive. I’ve been going through boxes and boxes of them. It’s sort of sad,” she added, “seeing Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Clive the way they looked when they just moved out here, younger than we are now.”

“I guess they were. Though when we were kids, we thought they were old,” he added with a laugh. “We had a lot of great times out here with them. They were so much fun to be around. Much more fun than Mom and Dad,” he added.

“We had a lot more freedom out here. But they were strict, too,” she reminded him. “Uncle Clive made you work with him in the garden, mow the lawns, and take care of the animals every day. Remember? They didn’t just let us laze around.”

“And listen to our iPods,” he added. “Or whatever distractions we had back then. I do remember. But for some reason, we loved it. I would love to show Will Clive’s old workshop. Is the shed still there?”

“Barely. One good wind will knock it over,” Liza predicted. “I bet Uncle Clive’s tools are all still there on his bench.”

“Maybe I’ll take a few back to Tucson with me as a remembrance,” he added.

“I was thinking of taking some things, too. Some furniture. Aunt Elizabeth still had the piano,” Liza added.

“I’m not surprised,” Peter said quietly. “Would you really spend the money to move it to Boston? It’s probably not worth the bother. And you don’t even play.”

“I know . . . but I think I’ll take it anyway.”

The piano was in bad shape. A few keys needed repair, and it had never really kept in tune in the damp, salty air. But Liza couldn’t imagine leaving it here. That would be deserting an old friend.

“Well, we could have some sort of big tag sale,” Peter suggested.

A tag sale? The thought of organizing all the odds and ends they didn’t want into a tag sale was daunting. “I’m not sure there’s enough worth selling to bother,” Liza said.

“Of course, there’s enough stuff. Are you kidding? There are some real antiques in there, quality furniture. And people will buy anything, Liza. You have no idea. Besides, there are companies who do all the work for you. They just take a percentage of the sale.”