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Ryan had left shortly after they’d finished their pie, returning to his own life. How nice it must be for him to know who he was and what he needed to do.
This morning, she grabbed one of her grandmother’s shawls, taking it and her coffee to the front porch. Her shoulders were tense, the result of a dream of a thief stealing the Nurse Ratched cap. She’d chased the thief until she’d caught him. When he turned around, his face became her husband’s and the cap a mangled heart.
No need to go to a dream specialist to interpret that one.
She stared at the mist rising from the lake. The morning chill was welcome, shrouding everything in pretense, hiding the rot underneath. Melancholy had taken too much of a hold. The antidote was work, and there was plenty of that around here.
But still she sat, letting the mystery drift over her. What if it could wash away all the years since she’d last been here, allowing her to return to the innocence she’d once known? But that wouldn’t do either. She loved her children and her job. What she needed to do was convince her friends to stop interfering with what she had to do and get the place ready to sell.
Resolute, she stood, determined to start her morning.
But the garden called. She needed to get someone in to give it curb appeal, even though there were no curbs for hundreds of miles. Wandering the rows of volunteer vegetables and flowers, she automatically deadheaded the few that needed it, just as she’d always done at home. She ambled to the firepit and noted the spots where the fog was releasing its hold. Settling into a chair, she gazed at the world around her until her coffee was finished. She’d never known that simply staring at nature could be so fulfilling.
After her shower, she opted for jeans, an older button-down shirt, and a kerchief to keep her hair back. The earrings were studs, simple turquoise chips her kids had given her one year for Mother’s Day. Gathering a dust rag, furniture spray, and several boxes she’d gotten from Maggie, she headed to the bookshelves in her grandmother’s sitting room. These were going to be the most difficult to sort, so she’d tackle them first.
Poetry books and journals made up the first small bookcase. Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Rupi Kaur, Marge Piercy, Adrienne Rich, and more lined the shelves. Kelly only recognized a few. What should she keep? Would she ever have the time or desire to read them?
She dumped all the books into a box, then plucked one out again. Rupi Kaur. Kelly had never heard of her. Opening the book randomly, she read, then gasped. “Celebration” touched something deep in her soul. Was the world really waiting for her? Waiting for her to do what?
Closing the book, she put it back in the box, more reverently this time.
Her grandmother’s slim volumes went into the box next. Kelly fingered each one, trying to stir memories of the woman she’d once known and loved deeply. How much she’d missed of her grandmother’s life and work. How could her mother have kept all of this from her?
The final unpublished book was less painful: The Healing Art of Retreat.
Crossing her legs, she opened the book and started reading. Before she knew it, a half hour had passed. Her grandmother had laid out the heart of her program. Not the nuts and bolts. They were probably in the office somewhere. But the purpose and the hopeful outcomes, the healing and re-energizing of creative artists were clearly articulated.
Henrietta had been one of the most amazing women of her generation. No wonder Maggie wanted to keep the center going. It wasn’t only a cornerstone for the community of Promise Cove, but a light for the world.
# # #
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Kelly put her car in the side lot of Culver’s store and started walking to the porch. A movement toward the back of the building caught her eye. Teagan and Gregg stood almost in the shadows. It looked like they were arguing. Teagan was shaking her head and waving her arms in a way that was eerily similar to Maggie when she became excited. Gregg must have sensed Kelly’s presence, because he looked over at her, then grabbed Teagan’s upper arms. Whatever he said made her glance over as well.
They moved farther back into the shadows.
Should she intervene? But what, actually, had she seen? Maybe a word to Maggie? But again, there wasn’t anything she could definitely say, just a vague uneasiness that something was wrong.
Continuing to the porch, she climbed the well-worn steps to the welcoming atmosphere of the old store. Even the moan of the screen door as she opened it was comforting. Rows and rows of all types of canned and boxed foods, often in ones and twos, lined the old white metal shelves. On a far wall were some inexpensive gardening and handyman tools, while another wall held kitchen gadgets and a shelf of bright enameled Lodge cast-iron pots.
She headed to the back tables, the nurse’s cap in a brown bag, as well as a box containing a delicate lace shawl knit by the local school cafeteria lady that she’d picked up on her way to the meeting. They certainly were a talented lot in Promise Cove.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Maggie called out. “Looks like you’ve had success. What is that?” She pointed to the brown bag.
“What’s what?” Alex peered around from behind a row of shelves.
“It’s from Betsy,” Kelly said, a spirit of merriment filling her. She pulled the hat from the bag. “Ta-da!”
Maggie and Alex stared.
“It’s a Nurse Ratched hat,” Kelly said. “From One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Betsy said it was an award-winning film from 1975. Her husband worked on it.”
“Did you hear that?” Maggie squealed to Alex. “That’s going to fetch an absolute fortune!” She leapt up and wrapped her arms around Kelly. “You are amazing! I knew you were the right person for the job.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” Kelly protested. “Betsy just offered it. I would think her son would want it, but she said he didn’t.” Maybe her friends would be more forthcoming than Ryan.
Alex and Maggie exchanged glances.
“What?” Kelly asked as she sat down. Alex and Maggie took their places as well.
“It’s kind of a sad story,” Alex said.
Maggie nodded.
“But it’s not ours to tell,” Alex said. “It’s kind of an unwritten rule around here for most of the old-timers. Stories belong to the people they affected.”
“The newcomers and younger kids, who seem to want t their entire lives, including the color of their underwear, splashed across the internet, don’t have the same idea,” Maggie said.
“We don’t tell them much,” Alex added.
Which meant, in spite of the summers she’d spent here, Kelly was still an outsider. Even scoring the nurse’s cap hadn’t changed that.
Her spirit deflated.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Maggie said when she opened the box with the lace shawl. “Ruth’s work?”
Kelly nodded. “And Charlene has promised three pies.”
“Outstanding,” Alex said. “I’ll contribute a mirror, and I’m sure Ryan has a small quilt he can throw in. With what we have already and what you’ve gotten, it’s going to be an amazing celebration.”
“There’s only one person we haven’t tapped,” Maggie said with a frown.
“Susan Thomas,” Alex said.
Both of them stared at Kelly.
“Do you think she’s up for that?” Alex asked.
“Well, she can’t do any worse than the rest of us. Susan’s never sent in anything.”
“I’m right here,” Kelly said. “Who is Susan Thomas?”
“She makes chain saw bears. She lives with her partner Gabriella at the B and B Gabriella owns,” Maggie said.
“But not only bears,” Alex said. “Horses, dolphins, all kinds of things. Her work goes for, far more than you’d pay for one of those bears you see all over Montana.”
Maggie nodded.
“It can’t be that hard, can it?” Kelly said.
Her friends exchanged glances again. “If anyone can do it, you can,” Alex said.
Maggie pushed her clipboard to the side. “How about some wine while we brainstorm? White or red?”
“White,” Alex immediately chimed in. “But only one glass. I’ve got a big order coming up, and I need to work on polishing the pieces.”
“That’s only an excuse,” Maggie said. “I know you’re binging on the latest streaming sensation.” In an aside to Kelly she said, “That girl is seriously addicted.”
“It’s the beauty of living all by yourself,” Alex said.
“Kelly?” Maggie asked.
“White’s fine for me.”
Maggie returned quickly with glasses and a bottle of supermarket chardonnay. After the wine was poured, the three clinked and Maggie announced, “Here’s to the best Promise Cove Summertime celebration ever!”
“Yes,” Kelly and Alex agreed and clinked their glasses.
“We’ve got the silent auction almost all wrapped up, thanks to Kelly,” Maggie said. “The band is booked, and it’s going to be fabulous! What I need to double-check is where all the booths should go.” She pulled a paper from the clipboard and unfolded it. “What do you think?”
Kelly studied it. “You’ve got the kids’ fishing pond next to the beer truck. That won’t do.”
“Ah, good point,” Maggie said. She scribbled the change on the paper.
“Why are the pony rides so close to the food booths?” Alex asked.
“That’s where there was room?” Maggie said.
Kelly and Alex shook their heads. Maggie wrote again.
“Got construction paper?” Kelly asked. “Let’s cut up some and then we can move booths around and not make a mess of the paper.”
“Oh, you are good at this,” Maggie said.
For the next half hour, they moved booths around until all three of them were satisfied. Then Maggie glued them into place.
“So, dish, girl,” Maggie said, leaning back in her chair. “Rumor has it a very eligible bachelor was grilling at your place last night.”
“How did you hear that?” Kelly asked.
“Then it’s true,” Alex said.
“Well, yes, but ...”
“Told you Rose Doolittle never lies,” Alex said to Maggie.
“Who’s Rose Doolittle?”
“We’re not entirely sure where she came from, but she’s been here forever. She lives right there.” Alex pointed to the few houses that lined the road heading up to the point that jutted out into the lake. “She spends hours watching who goes up and down the road. In between, she rides her bike around the point, taking note of cars that aren’t in their own driveways.”
“In other words,” Maggie said, “she’s the biggest gossip in Promise Cove.”
“So no secrets?” Kelly asked.
“Nope,” Maggie said. “As long as you’re here, your life is an open book.”
It was a good thing Kelly had no interest in being more than friends with Ryan Svoboda.
