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Kelly headed to the general store the next morning. Her angel of mercy had left dinner but nothing for breakfast. She should have stocked up in Whitefish, but she hadn’t thought about life without a grocery store within a few miles.
The large clapboard building was two stories high with a good-sized porch on the front. Adirondack chairs lined the wall, interspersed with barrels and potted plants, many bright with summer foliage. An older couple was sitting at the far end, their gray heads together while they chatted over coffee.
The scene was interrupted when the screen door was flung open. A thin, wiry young man, his face in a scowl, rushed down the three stairs that led to the store. He was followed shortly by a teenager with uncontrolled brown curls, who yelled, “Wait, Gregg, I didn’t mean it that way!”
Misunderstandings started young.
Kelly shook her head and headed inside, aware that the girl had looked like someone she’d known a long time ago, someone like...
“Maggie!” she exclaimed.
The woman behind the counter had the same curly brown hair. She stared at Kelly with bright green eyes that held a hint of caution. After finishing up with the customer in front of her, she came out from behind the counter.
“Kelly?” she asked. “Kelly Norcross? It is you.” She held out her arms for an embrace and without hesitation, Kelly stepped into it.
They hugged for a long minute.
“It’s good to see you,” Kelly said when Maggie finally released her. “It’s Richards now.”
“Oh, yes, you got married. I remember that. But I know why you’re here.” Maggie grinned widely, then her expression crashed and burned. “I’m sorry about Henrietta. She was a wonderful person and so important to Promise Cove. Will you be staying? Will you be taking over the retreat center? It would be so great to get that up and running again.”
“I’m sorry, but no. I’m going through a few things my grandmother left, then I’ll be putting it on the market.”
“Oh.” Maggie’s shoulders drooped along with her smile.
“My life is in California,” Kelly defended her actions. “I have a job and a family there. Montana doesn’t fit into the picture.”
“Oh yes. You’re married. Maybe your husband wants to come here?” The hopeful expression was back.
“Um, no. He passed away a year ago.”
“That’s terrible. Your kids must be so upset. No wonder you need to get back.” Maggie looked around. “Let me get you a cup of coffee. On the house. A welcome back.”
“That would be great. I’ll also need some staples, including some breakfast food, to take back to the house.”
“We can whip you up some breakfast for this morning, too. My mom makes a mean omelet.” Maggie frowned. “It may take her a bit because Gregg isn’t here to help out.”
“Was Gregg the young man who ran out the door?” Kelly guessed.
“Yes. He and my daughter, Teagan, are seeing each other, and the road has never been smooth. I think he’s too old for her, but you can’t tell teenagers anything or they’ll do the opposite.”
“That is for sure,” Kelly said. Lisa had been a terror that peaked somewhere when she was sixteen, but Peter’s teen years had been surprisingly mild.
“And here I am blathering about myself when I should be getting you coffee and starting your breakfast order.” Maggie pointed to a group of four tables by a large, mullioned window. “Take a seat, and I’ll get coffee for both of us. It should be quiet for the next hour or so before the lunch rush starts. We don’t do a lot of food business, but there are a few regulars who stop in almost every weekday. Nice weekends can be a bit crazy because tourists wander up here and find themselves hungry in the middle of nowhere.”
Kelly headed for the tables and checked her phone. No messages.
The screen door opened and a young woman, toddler in tow, came in. The toddler grabbed at a candy bar and, when the woman didn’t stop, began to wail. The mother quickly retrieved the bar, placed it on the counter, and said something to Maggie.
As Maggie rang up the snack, she spoke to the woman, but from the way the visitor was shaking her head, Kelly could tell Maggie’s answer wasn’t making sense. The toddler began to wail again, and her mother unwrapped the candy and handed it to her.
Finally, Maggie took out a map and pointed as she talked. With a weary swipe across her brow, the woman handed Maggie some bills, took the map and her daughter’s hand, and left.
Catching Kelly’s eye, Maggie shook her head, and just like she had that long-ago summer, Kelly knew exactly what she was thinking: That mother was in for a whole lot of trouble when her daughter became a teenage.
Who gave a toddler a candy bar at nine o’clock in the morning?
Maggie put the coffees on the table. “What a mess,” she said. “She took a wrong turn when she lost the GPS signal, and this is the first sign of civilization she’s seen.”
“Where’s she headed?” “Big Mountain. She was supposed to pick up her sister there early this morning. She took a wrong turn at Columbia Falls, wound up in Glacier, and has been trying to get back ever since.”
“That really is lost,” Kelly said.
“Yep, so tell me all about your life. What was your husband like? You have kids? How old?” Maggie’s grin lit her whole face, while the light from the nearby window highlighted the freckles across her nose. Her olive-green T-shirt and jeans fit well over her still-slim silhouette.
Kelly gave her the bare bones of her existence, but as she talked, some of the burden of John’s death began to lift. Gail was a practical friend, always ready to give advice or create a fun time to make her forget about things. Maggie was offering something more, almost a true understanding of emotions Kelly couldn’t even name.
“I’m so sorry to hear all that,” Maggie said when she was finished. “It must be very difficult to stop being with someone suddenly. Your kids sound great though. It’s too bad you’re not planning on being here long. I’d love to meet them.”
“They really have their own lives. I couldn’t even keep Peter in California for the summer, he is so set on starting his own life. His grandparents provided the perfect opportunity.”
“It may be his own way of dealing with the pain of his father’s death. Sometimes boys have more trouble expressing their emotions than girls.”
Peter certainly had inherited his father’s stoicism.
“What about you?” Kelly asked, awkwardly trying to figure out how to ask the whereabouts of Teagan’s father.
“Oh.” Maggie waved her hand. “Nothing special. I didn’t have talent. Not like you or Alex.”
Alexandria Porter. The other close friend Kelly’d had all those years ago.
“Do you hear from Alex?” she asked.
“Several times a week,” Maggie said with a grin. “She lives on the point on the opposite side of the retreat center. She’s a member of the art cooperative across the street. You’ll have to go see it. She’s got all these beautifully carved mirrors, lamps, tables, and more. She charges high prices and gets them. Once a tourist sees them, they can’t leave them behind.
“And ...” she continued with a grin. “You have another old friend who exhibits there: Ryan Svoboda.”
Ryan. Kelly’s senses went on full alert. He was still here. Or back. Whatever. It didn’t matter. She’d get to see him, find out if he was the same person she’d cared for a long time ago.
“Ryan? I didn’t know he did anything artistic.” Kelly tried to keep her voice casual.
“He didn’t. I don’t know how he got into it, but he’s a pretty well-known art quilter. His prices put Alex’s to shame.”
“Huh. I wouldn’t have thought that.”
The door squealed open again.
“Hi, Tom,” Maggie said as she stood. “You here for the usual?”
“Yep.” Based on the uniform, Tom was some kind of law enforcement. His gaze never left Maggie as she walked to the counter, but it wasn’t the look of a man watching for a misstep. No, unless she missed her guess, Tom the cop had a bit of a crush on her old friend.
And based on Maggie’s attitude, she was clueless about the whole thing.
When she’d finished Tom’s transaction, Maggie went down a hallway, returning with a steaming plate of hot eggs.
“Sorry it took so long. Mom got distracted. She told me she was trying to figure out how to put the simplicity of an egg into her next watercolor.”
“She still does that? Do people buy her work?”
“Sometimes. She’s got stuff in ART as well.”
“ART?” Kelly asked.
“The art gallery. Across the street. Most of the locals call it ART because those are the only letters you can see on the sign at the top.”
Kelly smiled. Things were different up here. In California, there would be a committee to make sure the sign was immediately repainted and upgraded to the current town standard.
She was about to ask again about Maggie’s history when her friend interrupted her.
“Your grandmother did a lot for this community,” Maggie said, her tone serious. “That retreat center supported a lot of people, people who have been out of work since she started failing. All her help was local, and she paid a good wage for maids, gardeners, handy people. If she knew someone needed help, she invented something for them to do.”
“I’m glad she was able to do that,” Kelly said, hoping the conversation wasn’t going where she feared it was.
“It’s left a hole, not only in our community but in the art world. Do you know how many people she helped get their start? Or famous people she helped heal so they could get back to doing what they loved? People came here from all over the world to sit by our bay, eat good food, and listen to her wisdom. That’s one of the reasons her poetry was so popular. She could say things in ten words that would take ten days to fully figure out.”
“I hadn’t realized any of that.”
“I’m sure you’ll see the records,” Maggie said. “They’re up in the house or in the office in the barn.”
Kelly almost groaned. An office would contain nothing but paper.
Maggie leaned across the table. “You have to find a way of opening it up again. If you can’t, I don’t know what will happen to Promise Cove.”
“Maybe I can find someone to buy it who wants to run a retreat center,” Kelly said hopefully.
Maggie shook her head. “It’s got to be you. Henrietta had faith in you. She often said you have skills that you don’t even know you have, beyond playing the piano beautifully.” She took Kelly’s hand. “Remember when Alex was struggling with her parents? Her dad was drinking too much, and her mom was threatening to leave them both. Alex thought the turmoil was all her fault. But you told her that couldn’t be possible because they were supposed to be the adults. You got your grandmother to ask her to stay at the retreat center—a long sleepover—until her dad got some help.”
“I’m sure Grandma did more than wait.”
“Probably.” Maggie laughed. “She wouldn’t let things go until they were set right. But that isn’t the point. You knew what needed to happen. You just needed her to help it along.” She let go of Kelly’s hand. “You were only twelve then. Think of what you could do now.”
She’d totally forgotten the incident. Maggie was right; she’d instinctively known what to do. It had come from the same place inside her that was tapped when she was connected to the music—a space “in the zone,” so totally absorbed that she lost all sense of time and place.
But that wasn’t where she lived. Reality was different. No one could stay in the zone for long. They wouldn’t survive.
“I can’t stay, Maggie. No matter how much the town may need me, my life is in California. I have a job and house. It’s where my children expect me to be. When I put the center on the market, I’m returning home.”
The conversation shifted to less intense topics. Someone had come into the store, and Kelly took her opportunity to finish her shopping and leave. Time to get going. The sooner she went back to California to resume her life, the better.
