Newport, Rhode Island
September 2019
Bright sun from the window warmed my face, and the slightly fuzzy and hard body of Luke Sprague warmed the rest of me, nudging me from sound sleep. The lulling sound of a gardener with a hedge trimmer buzzed somewhere below the window, letting me know that at least the rain had stopped. For now. I sat up abruptly, blinked, then spotted the blue robe draped over the fireplace andirons, reminding me of how it got there. Blood rushed to my face. “I’ve never done this before.”
Luke chuckled, pulling me back down to his chest. “You could have fooled me.”
“I meant”—I fluttered my hand at the blue bathrobe—“that. I’m not in the habit of falling into bed with the first sailor boy who drags me in from the cold.”
“I didn’t think you hung out with sailor boys.”
“I don’t, but I’m beginning to think that I might like to hang out with only one.” I placed a kiss on his neck, just below his ear, where I’d learned that he liked. “You sure know how to hang your lanyard, captain.”
He was still laughing as he rolled me over so I was between him and the sheepskin—which, as I’d discovered, was very nice on bare skin—our grins fading as our gazes locked. “You know, if we do it again tonight and tomorrow night, we can’t call it a one-night stand.”
I lightly touched my lips to his. “For a sailor boy, you’re not as dumb as you look.”
“And for a historic preservationist, you sure know how to make it last longer.”
We woke up again a few hours later, the sun gone from a now leaden sky, my phone rumbling against the floor nearby. At some point Luke had pulled the blankets from the bed and piled them on top of us, so I had to scramble to find the source of the vibration.
“Here,” Luke said, reaching under his pillow and handing it to me.
I slid my thumb across the screen and held it to my ear. “Dad? Is everything all right?” I made the mistake of looking at the mantel clock and saw that it was almost ten thirty.
“Everything’s fine here. I just wanted to let you know that Petey threw up four times last night so I put him back in bed.”
“What? What happened? Does he have a fever?” I began frantically scouting for my clothes before remembering that Joanie had taken them. I found one slipper then hopped on one foot with the phone pressed between my chin and shoulder while I searched for the other one.
“No, no fever. He’s absolutely fine right now. I think it might have been the bag of Doritos and orange sodas I let him have last night. And we split a box of Twinkies, too. As a matter of fact, I’m not feeling all that great myself. Anyway, the school says that the kids have to be twenty-four hours vomit-free before returning to class and I’ve got that big job repairing the helm of a schooner starting today and the money’s real good so I need to be there. I figured I could drop him off with you on my way.”
“Wait—now? You’re coming now? What about the closed bridge and washed-out roads?”
“I’ve lived here all of my life, Andie. There’s not a backroad I don’t know, and I’ve got a truck. Don’t worry about us.”
I limped over to the fireplace to retrieve my robe, watching out of the corner of my eye as Luke rose and strode naked to the bedroom door and opened it. I refocused on the conversation. Trying to sound casual, I said, “Okay. When should I expect you?”
“We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. I tried calling you earlier but you didn’t pick up. I figured you must have been exhausted from working all day and I didn’t want to wake you before I had to. Didn’t you get my voicemail?”
“I . . . uh . . .” I watched as Luke retrieved a pile of neatly folded clothes from outside the door and brought it in. “I forgot to look. But sure, fifteen minutes is fine. I’ll be waiting outside. I’m sure I can find something for him to do that doesn’t involve gorging on junk food.”
“I’m packing saltines just in case. See you soon.”
I hit End on my phone, noticing other unread voicemails and the low battery warning and having no idea where my charger was. “I’ve got to jump in the shower. My dad’s bringing Petey. Apparently, he threw up last night and is back in bed right now.” Despite Luke’s efforts to embrace me, I pulled away and raced around the room, remaking the bed and tidying the sheepskin rug. “I just . . . I’m sure he’ll be fine. I can’t take a day off, and I can’t afford another ER visit.”
Luke grabbed hold of my arms and held me still. “Don’t worry, Andie. He’ll be fine.”
I pulled away. “How do you know? He’s not your kid.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
He put his arms around me. “I know. Do you think I’ve never seen a worried parent before? I get it. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll take a look at Petey just to be sure it’s nothing we need to worry about. I’m a doctor, remember?”
“Right.” I managed a smile. “Thank you.” I kissed him briefly, wishing we had more time for a longer goodbye, then headed to the shower.
I reminded myself that I should be upset that I was late for work and that Petey would be crashing the set again today when we were already so far behind, but I couldn’t stop myself from singing as I showered. Or humming as I finished straightening the room before leaving to meander through the hallways to the great staircase, then sashay down the stairs, imagining I was the beautiful Maybelle from the portrait, on her way to meet her handsome prince. It was only when I reached the turn of the landing that the soundtrack came to a screeching halt of snapped violin strings and out-of-tune wind instruments.
A crack of thunder outside explained why the film crew was all inside milling about. After checking the weather radar the previous day, I had decided to start the renovation in the ballroom because of the forecast, but had neglected to do my job and inform George and Devon of my plan because I had been otherwise engaged. Granted, I hadn’t planned to be stranded at the house and had forgotten my usual routine and prep for the following day. But I had.
For the first moment since I’d slid Luke’s sweater over my head, I began to have regrets, not all of them centered around my failure to do my job. I’d also neglected to keep my goals in front of me, the one thing that had guided most of my adult life, born out of necessity and the need for survival. It had taken one warm sweater and the offer of comfort to bring me down to where my mother had been when she’d made the decision to throw everything away, including her two daughters and husband, for the stability and ease of another life. Despite my shower, I suddenly felt dirty.
George spotted me first and headed in my direction. He was usually so easygoing that his expression caught me off guard. “Where in the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.” I recalled the unread voicemails and the low battery on my phone, but he didn’t look to be in the kind of mood to listen to excuses.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said. “What’s going on?”
“What’s not going on is more like it. Despite our rush to get the equipment inside, the portable audio digital recorder and video switcher aren’t working and neither is my camera. We can’t figure out why except that moisture might have gotten inside and shorted something. We called Marc, asking for quick replacements, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take. Marc . . . well, he didn’t sound like himself, if you know what I mean.”
I closed my eyes and nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “Maybe I can jump in my car and pick up what we need to expedite things. I’m sure the roads are better this morning.” Despite the bright sun from an hour earlier, the darkening light and thunder were enough to tell me that another storm had rolled in and my car had about zero percent chance of making it out of the driveway. But I had to try. If I had any hope of making the series a success, I didn’t have a choice.
George shook his head. “Half the crew didn’t show up today because so many roads are washed out and bridges closed.” He shrugged. “I think we should wait.”
Devon crossed the foyer toward us, his hair dripping water on the scarred floors. “Well, glad you finally showed up. I can’t find any of the equipment you brought in by yourself last night. I was hoping we might be able to piece together enough to get something recorded today. Any idea where it might be?”
I looked across the foyer, catching sight of an older man and his cane slowly tapping his way to the door, sticking close to the edge of the room to remain inconspicuous. Teddy Winthrop lifted his hat and winked at me before letting himself out the door, only pulling on it twice to make it wide enough to pass through.
Returning my attention to Devon, I said, “I put it in the alcove inside the door by the back hallway. Did you look there?”
“I did. I’ve looked everywhere. It’s not here.”
Before I could offer an opinion, Mike Brantley, the muscles behind the scenes, approached, holding a pink construction hat and matching tool belt. “I found these shoved inside the maid’s closet. Not sure how they got there, but I thought you’d want them.”
“Great. Thanks. I swear I didn’t put them there, but I would like to thank the person who did.”
“Maybe it was the ghost of the white lady,” Devon said, his eyes round.
“Maybe.” I had a good idea who the responsible person or persons were, but I let it slide. If my show had to be a caricature of what I’d once hoped it could be, we might as well add a mischievous ghost to the mix.
I heard my name shouted, and I turned my head toward the library to find Meghan walking quickly in my direction, her red boots matching the bow on her black sweater dress. She clutched her phone as her widened eyes conveyed a dire situation.
“Where have you been? That was Marc. I guess your phone is dead? He said he has news from Christiana so he’s coming over now.”
“Now? But the roads . . .”
“He said he slept in his car last night in a shopping center parking lot on Bellevue so he’s close by.” She looked down, as if ashamed to have had to say that out loud.
“He couldn’t tell you over the phone?”
She shook her head. “I suggested that, but he said what he needs to say has to be said face-to-face. I don’t think it’s good news.”
For a day that had started so perfectly, it was quickly going to hell in a handbasket, to borrow one of Meghan’s favorite phrases. “Wonderful,” I said. “I’ve got to go wait for Petey. My dad’s dropping him off.”
“He’s in the kitchen with Luke. I’ll come with you. I found an awesome photograph on the internet and I’m dying to show it to you. It’s really old, but it’s from the Newport Historical Society collection. It’s a sketch that appeared in the newspaper and shows Maybelle Sprague singing to her prince. I think it said it was their engagement party or something like that.”
I paused, actually interested. “Really?”
“Yes! But what’s really fascinating is that the artist conveyed each of them looking at someone else instead of each other. According to the article, the song Maybelle sang was some romantic Italian opera aria—so she should have been looking at her intended, right? It’s probably just a random thing, or the artist had been asked by the editor to make a bigger story, but we could certainly expand on it for the show, right? Because that’s what they’re looking for.”
I sighed and kept walking, dropping my pink ensemble along the way. “Sadly, yes.”
“Anyway,” Meghan continued, “it’s given me an amazing idea that will involve my psychic Realtor friend in Charleston.”
“Oh boy,” I said, heading toward the kitchen, only half listening as Meghan said something about the possibility of her friend Melanie doing a guest appearance on the show.
I pushed open the kitchen door. “I don’t think guest appearances are in the budget, Meghan.”
“Maybe she’ll do it for free, though. I mean, surely Christiana could spring for a plane ticket, right?”
I didn’t answer, my attention drawn to Joanie wafting a sage stick in the corners of the kitchen, and Petey sitting on the table holding the toy sailboat, giggling while Luke looked in his ear with an otoscope. “Yep—just like I suspected. I can see all the way to Disney World. And, wait—is that . . . ? It sure is. Donald Duck is waving hello.”
“Let me call her,” Meghan said from behind me. “Maybe she doesn’t need to be here in person.”
“Well, hello, Andie,” Joanie said, with more meaning in her voice than for just those few words. “You must be famished.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Your skin is positively glowing. Isn’t it, Lukie?”
Petey and Luke both looked up, and I wasn’t sure whose smile I was happier to see.
“Yes,” Luke said. “It certainly is. You have to tell me your secret sometime.” He grinned as he settled Petey onto the floor and patted his head. “He’s back to fighting form. Just a case of junkfooditis. Keep his diet pretty bland today and he’ll be ready to go back to school tomorrow.”
“Mommy!” Petey ran to me and threw his arms around my neck before stepping back to show me the little wooden boat. “Look what Luke fixed for me! He said if it was all right with you, I can keep it. He doesn’t need a toy sailboat anymore because he has a real one.”
“Isn’t that nice of him?” I said, my eyes meeting Luke’s over Petey’s head. Luke replaced the otoscope inside a worn leather doctor’s bag on one of the chairs. “If you’re very careful with it, I think it’s all right for you to keep it.”
Petey let out a huge whoop and began racing around the kitchen with the boat, moving it up and down on invisible but very treacherous waves. Joanie took hold of his shoulders, stopping him with a hug. “Have you ever played on a Wii before?”
He nodded with teeth-shattering enthusiasm. “Yes! My best friend Connor has one and we play it all the time when I have a playdate. Mommy says I can’t have one because they’re too expensive, but if I did I’d play all the time with my grandpa because he’d let me stay up.”
“Well, we don’t have a grandpa here, but we do have Luke’s grandmother, Lucky, and guess what? She has a Wii! And she’s upstairs now looking for someone to play with her. Can you think of anyone who might enjoy that?”
He let out another whoop and began jumping up and down, his hand pointing straight up in the air. “Me! Me! Me!”
Joanie laughed. “Well, then, if it’s okay with your mother, I’ll take you upstairs and introduce you to Lucky.”
“Please, Mommy. Please?” Petey threw his arms around me again, ensuring that there could be only one answer.
“If Joanie is sure that Lucky won’t mind.” I looked at Joanie, whose eyes were twinkling with ulterior motives.
“I’m absolutely positive. I’ll make chicken soup for him for lunch, and make sure he has a lot of saltines with it. And I’ll deliver him personally to you when he and Lucky have exhausted themselves, although I warn you it could take a while.”
“No worries—really. I’ve got quite a bit of catch-up work to do here, and I’m waiting for my boss to stop by, so if you can keep Petey occupied even for a little bit, I’d be grateful.”
“Great. It’s all set. You ready, Petey?” Joanie extended her hand to the little boy, who immediately grabbed it and began leading Joanie out of the room. “Do you know where you’re going?” Joanie asked, laughing.
“No, so you’d better hurry up before I get lost.”
Joanie was dragged out of the room, jogging to keep up with Petey.
I turned to Luke but was interrupted by Meghan talking loudly into her phone. “What do you mean it doesn’t work that way? You can talk to dead people, right? So why can’t you do it on FaceTime? It’s the same thing!”
I made a shooing motion with my hand to let her know she needed to take her conversation elsewhere. As soon as she left, her voice trailing back to us down the long corridor, I turned to Luke and took a deep breath. “Thank you. For taking care of Petey. I appreciate it.”
If I thought there might be awkwardness between us, I’d have been wrong. He opened his arms and I walked into them, feeling as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I was happy to do it. You carry way too much on your shoulders. I’m glad I was here to help, even in a small way.”
I tilted my head up to him, but as he lowered his lips to mine, the door to the outside crashed open and Marc stumbled inside the kitchen, staggering enough that he had to brace himself on the opened door so as not to fall over. He brought in the smell of rain and wet tweed and very expensive bourbon. Despite the misbuttoned jacked and wild hair and the knowledge that he had slept in his car, the fact that he still drank good bourbon made me believe—however irrationally—that all was not lost.
Luke pulled out a chair before helping Marc into it while I poured him a large glass of water. He tried to push it away, but I handed it back to him. “Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated and this will help. I’ll go get you some coffee. . . .”
“Don’t bother,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. We’ve failed.”
Hot fear bolted through me. I pulled out the chair next to him and sat. “What do you mean, Marc? The equipment is replaceable. And we can still record some of the audio voice-overs while we wait for—”
“They’ve canceled the show. They’re pulling the plug as of today and cutting their losses. They’ve found a more commercial show that will bring in more viewers. Some Beverly Hills housewife doing a home-flip while undergoing a gender transition. They already have confirmed sponsors, including the biggest home improvement retailer. They want everything packed up and out of here by end of day.”
He put his forehead down on the table and after a moment his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.
I sat motionless, unable to move, unable to put a consoling hand on Marc’s shoulder, unable to utter my own sobs that had congealed in my throat, making breathing almost impossible. It took me a moment to realize that Luke had put his hand on my shoulders and was squeezing gently.
“It’s going to be all right. This is just a setback. Not the end.”
I wanted to believe him. He’d suffered through something many people found unsurvivable. But he had survived. He was still trying to find a place in life to drop anchor, but he hadn’t stopped searching. Yet I couldn’t be so optimistic. I still had school loans and grocery bills and a six-year-old whose education I was determined would lead him to Brown on a full ride to fulfill his mother’s lost ambitions. I opened my mouth to speak or cry or scream, but only empty, useless air emerged.
I didn’t look up when the back door opened again, convinced nothing good was going to come through it.
“Mr. Sprague? Do you have a moment?”
It was one of the two gardeners—down from a previous total of twelve—left to maintain the acres of lawns and gardens of the estate. Which explained the patchy condition of the grass and the weed-choked gardens.
Luke walked toward the door. “Sure, what is it?”
The older man—I think his name was Joe—pulled off his John Deere hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his fleece jacket. “Well, it looks like we got ourselves a mudslide. Greg—that’s my nephew—says it looks like the entire hill washed over the cliff and into the cove. He says the boathouse has seen better days.”
At the mention of the boathouse, I stood. “How bad is it?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know. My bones can’t handle a slip and fall. Greg’s still down there, though, if you want to talk to him. The boy’s a good carpenter, too. Probably could help rebuild it, ya know?”
“Thanks, Joe. We’ll go check it out.”
I warmed at the word “we’ll.” It was the single bright spot of a dismal morning so far and I clung to it as I stood to follow Luke outside.
I looked at Marc, who had at least stopped sobbing and was sitting up and sipping his water, his eyes glassy. “Will you be okay here? I’ll be right back and I promise to get you that coffee, all right? And then we can inform the crew together.”
He gave me a wooden nod, which I hoped meant that he would be there when I returned. I slid on a short rain jacket and pair of rainboots left by the door—presumably Joanie’s so I didn’t think she’d mind—and headed outside with Luke, hoping that some rain and mud might distract me from Marc’s news.
“Good luck!” Joe said as he followed us out. “Tell Greg I’ll be in the gardening shed if he needs me.”
A drizzle fell on us, not enough to soak us but wet enough to be annoying as we carefully made our way over the lawn and overgrown path that were now entirely obscured by a river of mud. My feet slipped several times, causing Luke to grab hold of my hand. He nearly lost his balance but somehow managed to keep us both upright. We got halfway down the hill before I stopped. “Luke, it’s getting steeper. I don’t think we should go any farther.”
I took a step backward, but my boot stayed rooted in the mud as my foot floundered in midair, not wanting to land in the muck. To regain my balance, I jerked my hand out of Luke’s grasp. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was attempting to remain standing on one booted foot in an oozy puddle of muck as I aimed my other foot into the abandoned boot.
“Andie!” Luke shouted.
But it was too late. I’d already landed on my backside and was slipping quickly down the hill. Backward. Which allowed me to see Luke try to run after me and land on his chest in the mire and follow me down the hill toward the cliff and the water. Fortunately for us, the slope leveled out before the steep drop so we were spared from flying off the cliff like lemmings.
We both lay still, our breaths harsh in the freezing drizzle. Mud caked in every crevice of my face and clothing and when I looked at Luke, I had to assume I was looking in a mirror. A funhouse mirror. Except the white of his teeth were showing because he was laughing—the kind of laughing that was so intense it stayed inside for a bit before erupting.
“I’m glad you find this funny,” I said, although I was now smiling and close to laughing myself. I grabbed a handful of mud and slung it at him, pinging him on the shoulder.
Luke glanced at his shoulder then back at me. “That’s not what I meant last night when I said to talk dirty to me.”
We both began to laugh hysterically, not because it was so funny, but I at least found it a welcome antidote to the disappointment that lurked behind it. We were still laughing when we heard squelching footsteps approach and a younger man than Joe—presumably his nephew, Greg—towered over us.
“Mr. Sprague?” he asked.
Still lying prone on the ground, Luke looked up. “Yes?”
“I think you need to go to the boathouse, sir. There’s something you need to see.”