steaming pot of tea on the sideboard in her dining room. Beside it she placed a dish of oatmeal raisin cookies. “Breakfast is served between seven and nine,” she said to the man standing behind her. “Although since you’re my only guest this week, you can choose what time you’d like to eat.”
He didn’t answer, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she understood why. He’d taken off his sports jacket and draped it over one arm. A balding spot on the back of his head reminded her strangely of Jonathan, and something tugged at her heart.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” She joined him near the bay window that overlooked the harbor.
“My goodness, it certainly is.” He had a scruff of beard and looked to be somewhere in his mid-forties. “Do the college buildings have the same view?”
“Well, not exactly the same. It’s a bit more hilly and can be foggier down there. But yes, there’s still usually a beautiful ocean view from the south coast. Wilder, of course. Fewer buildings in the way.” The man’s name was Jeremiah Benjamin, and all she knew about him was that he’d come to see the island and the campus, because there was a good chance he’d be teaching there in the fall.
Jeremiah scratched his chin and whistled. “Ma’am, you don’t charge nearly enough. Not if this view is included twenty-four-seven.”
She laughed. It wasn’t the first time a guest had told her that. “I appreciate your kindness. But I’ve gotten to look at that view every day for most of my adult life. For free. If I charge what the travel websites say I should, I’d feel guiltier than you can imagine. I want others to be able to enjoy Drake Isle the way I have.” She didn’t need the money, anyway. Jonathan’s pension and life insurance policy had left her more than enough to live on.
Jeremiah nodded and looked at the photos hanging on the walls, faces of ancestors who had at one time stood in the very same spot they now did.
“Those are Drakes,” she said, pointing at all the photos but one. “The one on the end is a Carter.”
“The families that settled the island?”
“If you want to be completely accurate,” Tilly said, and Jonathan would want her to be, “tribes of Native Americans settled the island long before anyone else set foot here.”
He nodded and helped himself to some cookies. “Of course. I just meant...well, I’m sure you know what I meant.”
She poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside him at the long table. The water was still today, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue. People milled around the landing waiting for the next ferry.
“Are you related to the original Drakes?”
“I am, by marriage. My husband was a descendant of Edward Drake. Edward and William Carter were fishermen and hunters, neighbors back on the mainland. Best friends from the time they were boys. They ended up being the first from the mainland to find this island, during a fishing expedition. Late sixteen-hundreds, I think it was. They loved it so much, they moved their families here shortly afterwards.”
“The natives were friendly? Didn’t mind a bunch of English moving in?”
“Well, it wasn’t a bunch of English at first. Just a few, and they took pains to be friendly. It wasn’t like they were looking to take over. They just wanted,” she waved at the window again, “that view.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Can’t blame them.”
“So from all accounts,” Tilly went on, “yes, they got along well. Better than the Narragansett over on Block Island, certainly. There were some terrible battles there. Eventually most of those natives left the island or were killed. Some came here. Some of the survivors married with the English, as well as some of the natives who’d lived here all along. The Drake and Carter bloodlines are rather mixed as a result.”
Movement outside caught Tilly’s eye. A lone male figure walked up Harbor Street. He wore a suit, though his shirt was open at the neck and he held his jacket tossed over one shoulder. Tilly didn’t recognize him.
“Are there a lot of other Drakes living on the island?” Jeremiah asked. “Or Carters?”
Tilly shook her head. “There was a big feud between the two families years ago. Before my time. As a result, most of the Carters left. My husband was an only child and passed a few years ago. My sons didn’t think life here was exciting enough for them. My oldest lives on the mainland and works in finance. My youngest is sowing his wild oats in Italy.”
Jeremiah chuckled. “Long way from home.”
Yes, it is. Tilly rested her chin in her palm and watched the man outside pass her driveway and continue up the hill, away from town. He wasn’t dressed for walking. And she hadn’t seen him before today, which meant he probably wasn’t a tourist who’d rented a room at one of the inns on the hill above her.
“One more question,” Jeremiah said.
“Of course.”
“If the friends discovered this island together, Drake and Carter, why is the island named after only one of them?”
She smiled. “It’s an interesting story. A romantic one, actually.”
“That so?”
Tilly nodded. She liked to think the inherent romance of Drake Isle, the very history of its naming, was part of what drew people here. “Neither Edward nor William were married when they moved here, though Edward had been. His wife had died in childbirth, and he had a young daughter. William was still a bachelor. They moved here with their parents and siblings, some cousins and neighbors from the mainland, too. All in all, about twenty-five of them settled here at first, right along what’s now Harbor Street.
“The natives lived mostly along the western and southern coasts of the island, but they befriended the English. Showed them some of the best fishing spots and helped them survive the first winter.”
“Are the winters bad here?”
“They can be. We’ve had some storms that knock out the power for a good few days. And yes, we get our share of snow. Worse than the weather, though, especially for those first settlers, was the isolation. They could sail back and forth to the mainland easily enough when the weather was nice, but once winter came, it was a different story.”
Jeremiah poured some tea and helped himself to another cookie. Tilly made a mental note to bake a second batch before bed.
“So the romance?” he prompted.
“There was a native girl the men both fell in love with. Aiyana. Her name meant ‘eternal blossom.’ According to the stories, she was beautiful, smart, and independent. She was also a bit of a tomboy. Showed the men the secrets of the island.”
“A seventeenth-century love triangle? How scandalous.”
“Very,” Tilly agreed with a smile. “When spring came, Edward told William his intention to marry her. William told Edward the same thing.”
“Was that the feud that broke the families apart?”
“Oh, no. That happened a century later, something about land rights and an unpaid loan.” Tilly didn’t know the details about that part of the Drake family history and didn’t care to. She refilled her teacup. “Edward and William decided to duel for Aiyana’s hand.”
“Didn’t give her any say in the matter?”
“Not in the late sixteen-hundreds. I’m surprised her father didn’t have a vote either, but maybe that part of the story got lost over time.” Three cyclists sped by the house, coasting the long hill all the way to the water. They flashed by in red and yellow streaks, gone before Tilly knew it.
“How did they duel? Guns?”
“Archery, believe it or not. They set up a bulls-eye on a tree and each shot three arrows. Whoever made the closest three shots won Aiyana.”
“I’m guessing that was Edward Drake, then.”
Tilly looked at him in surprise. “Oh, no. William won. He married Aiyana, and they went on to have eight children. Seven survived to adulthood.”
Jeremiah looked puzzled.
“The consolation prize was the island,” Tilly explained. “Edward lost Aiyana, so he got to name the island instead.”
Jeremiah chuckled as he finished his tea. “Considering his last name is on every map of the United States, who do you think really won?”
“I suppose that depends on how you look at it.” Tilly knew what her answer would be. Land didn’t mean much to her. But love? Love meant everything.
“Thanks for the tea and cookies,” Jeremiah said. “And the history lesson. Guess I’ll get unpacked, maybe take a little rest before diner.”
“Of course. There’s a binder of restaurant menus on the table in the foyer. I’m happy to give you a recommendation or make a call for you, if you’d like. Most places don’t need reservations ahead of time unless it’s The Water’s Edge.”
“The fancy place on the point?”
Tilly nodded. “Best view on the island. It’s hard to get a table there without a few days’ advance notice.”
“I’ll remember that,” Jeremiah said and disappeared upstairs.
Tilly set their dirty cups in the sink and left them there. Washing them would give her something to do later on, when darkness descended and the house grew quiet. She stepped outside and joined Sassy Girl on the porch.
“He’s a nice man,” she said aloud, speaking to Jonathan. “And don’t worry. I already told Masie he’s staying here this week, and she Googled him to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer. I asked Chief McCabe to run an extra patrol by the house, too.” It wasn’t like they had to worry about crime on Drake Isle, but Tilly had installed a security system on her private first floor wing of the house all the same.
“They’re reopening the college,” she went on. Sassy Girl leaped onto the railing to eyeball a passing chipmunk. “Just a few classes, according to the paper, but it’ll be interesting to see how it goes. You know, what with the girl who died all those years ago. Hope that history doesn’t cause any kind of black mark on the place.”
Masie had told Tilly the other day that her niece’s horseback riding teacher’s mother had seen a psychic around the campus last month, a woman with pink hair and a dress that dragged on the ground.
“How do you know it was a psychic?” Tilly asked. Some of the teenage girls at the Island School had pink hair. Blue and purple hair too, and they wore everything from jeans and belly shirts to long dresses and leggings.
Masie ignored the question. “She’s probably going to make up stories and sell them to those rags on the mainland,” she said with a sniff. “Goodness knows we don’t need people talking about ghosts here on Drake Isle.”
But Tilly liked believing that ghosts surrounded her, looking out for her and guiding her when she needed them. “You ever go down there?” Tilly asked Jonathan. She didn’t expect him to answer. He never did. But sometimes just hearing the sound of her own voice and imagining his in response made her feel less lonely.
“Down where?”
The masculine voice was so close, so alive, and so not her late husband’s, that Tilly jumped. Sassy Girl fled into the yard. Tilly looked around, her heart in her throat.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She let out a breath. The voice belonged to the man she’d seen walking up the street. He’d apparently turned around at the top of the hill where Harbor Street met Driftwood Circle. “It’s okay. I didn’t see you, that’s all.” Her heart returned to normal.
He leaned against the railing at the bottom of her front steps and looked up. “This place is beautiful. You’ve redone it. Expanded the gardens quite a bit, too.”
Tilly blinked in surprise. “Yes, a few years ago. You’ve been on the island before?”
A shadow crossed his face. “I spent four years here when I was a student at Misterion College. But that was a long time ago.” He climbed the steps and offered his hand in greeting. “Blake Carter.”
“Tilly Drake.”
He tipped his head. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Blake Carter as in one of the descendants of William Carter?”
He gave her a dazzling grin, and Tilly imagined he must have been one of the most popular boys at Misterion. Jet black hair, white teeth, bright blue eyes, shoulders that suggested a career athlete.
“Yes. Tilly Drake as in one of the descendants of Edward Drake?”
She smiled. “By marriage, yes. Welcome back to the island. If it’s been a while.” She wondered if he’d gone to college as the same time as her younger son. He looked around the same age as Ernie.
He glanced at the ferry landing and the buildings that lined the water. “It has been a while. Too long, in fact.”
“Can I get you some tea? Or oatmeal raisin cookies?”
“Aw, no. But thank you. You’re kind to offer. Maybe another time. I was just taking a walk.” He ducked his chin. “Needed to cool off a bit before I got back behind the wheel and headed to the mainland.”
Tilly gave him a curious look but didn’t press. Operating a bed and breakfast had taught her not to ask about people’s stories unless they opened the door to them first. “Well, I hope you come back to stay longer next time. It’s always nice to talk to someone who’s connected to the history of the place.”
Blake Carter’s grin returned as he retraced his steps to the grass. “You’re the first person who’s said that to me since I got here, Mrs. Drake. In fact, you might be the only one who feels that way.”