Chapter Four --

 

I was pretty sure no one would accept the old “have to wash my hair” excuse, but my mind seemed to freeze up as I scrambled for an answer. Desperate, I glanced over at Kenny, who gazed expectantly at me. How could I say no?

“I guess I’m available,” I heard myself say. “Count me in.”

“Too bad we’re leaving in the morning,” said Robin Johnson. “Scrabble’s our thing. Maybe next time we’re in town we can play.”

“We can ask Myrtle and Willow to join us,” Lacey suggested. Myrtle was a distant Googins cousin, who lived down the road with her daughter. “And as a last resort, we’ve got Bur.”

Ask Bur, the man most likely to make up words out of thin air? Great! I’ll spend the entire game challenging every combination of tiles he places on the board. Won’t that be fun?

“Splendid,” said the retired medicine man, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I shall look forward to it.”

“Well, now that’s settled, please excuse Scarlet and me. We’re off to the movies,” Kenny told the group, hopping up from his seat. As he did, I caught him winking at Lacey. That’s how I knew she got to him -- it must have been at the gas station. Of all the low-down, sneaky, conniving....

I waited until we were in the hallway, on our way to the front door, before I tossed out the hook to catch my unsuspecting fish. “So, does this mean you approve of the Googins girls’ plan?”

There it was, just as I suspected, the dead giveaway -- a slight misstep in his gait and an avoidance of eye contact. Kenny’s always been a fairly honest guy. My brother, Bur, used to call him Mr. Goody Two Shoes in high school.

“What?” He paused a moment, his hand on the knob of the front door, and by the time he’d turned it a few seconds later, I knew he’d constructed his response. I thought it rather lame. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you really think I didn’t know? Good heavens!” I let out an amused chuckle as I brushed past him. “It’s not like I’m completely in the dark when it comes to the Googins girls, for heaven’s sake. Give me a little credit, Captain Peacock.”

“So, you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Why should I mind?” I played along, pretending to know what he was talking about. I wasn’t even close.

“I just assumed you might think your mother is too old to date a guy like Thaddeus.”

“Huh?” We were half-way to the car when I stopped in my tracks. My mouth dropped open like a proverbial Venus flytrap, ready for the unwitting housefly to buzz in. Did I think my mother was too old to date? It had never even crossed my mind. More importantly, it had never occurred to me that the woman in the wheelchair had a desire to land herself a date with Dr. Van Zandt.

I quickly scrambled to recover my equilibrium. This was no longer just a scheme to start a wedding business. Now it was about roping players into a game of Scrabble so that my mother could get herself a date. Had the world gone completely and utterly mad? Never underestimate a wily senior citizen. Be wary when two of them conspire.

Kenny opened the car door for me and stepped back as I slid into the seat. Once I was in, he shut the door and came around to the driver’s side of the car. Climbing in behind the wheel, he leaned over and gave me an unexpected kiss, one that left me breathless.

“What’s that for?” I asked, when we came up for air.

“I’m just glad you’re okay with this. When I first moved back here, your mother was someone I could talk to about being widowed. She understood me like nobody else. She’s the one who encouraged me to give love another try.”

“You talked to my mother about dating? Where was I?”

“You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner.”

“Ah,” I nodded, thinking about all the times I fussed over a sauce for the beef tenderloin or grilled mahi-mahi on my stovetop grill, while Kenny sat with my mother in the living room. I had no idea the two of them ever had any significant conversations.

“Your mother knows what it’s like to lose the man she loved, Scarlet. She still loves your dad, but....”

“But she’s lonely?” I replied, filling in the blank in his sentence. We were finally at that stage in our relationship where it was acceptable, rather than presumptuous.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Van Zandt is the first man she’s expressed an interest in.”

“That’s the long and short of it.”

“Well then, I guess we should help Mama out.”

“We should.” He reached over and turned the key in the ignition. “And if I’m any judge of men, the good doctor is equally interested in your mother.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

I do. Those two little words surfaced yet again. My luck -- there was just no escaping them tonight. I pulled myself together and focused on the matter at hand. How could I help Laurel find some happiness at this stage of her life? I was still adjusting to the idea of my mother dating when Kenny threw me another curve ball.

“How do you feel about me moving down the road? Would that bother you?”

For the second time in less than ten minutes, my jaw dropped. “Moving down the road?”

“Bur called me and said he’s thinking of taking over Wallace’s house for an event venue, but he wants to use the upstairs as business offices and apartment space for himself. He offered me the third floor. How about it, Scarlet? We’ll be able to spend more time together.”

I looked into those eyes and felt myself melting under the heat of his gaze. The idea of spending more time with him delighted me. “It’s just the nearness of you....” For a moment, that old romantic ballad flooded my head and I felt myself swept away. And then, suddenly, the spell was broken.

“So?” Kenny spoke. “What do you think?”

I shook myself out of my daydream and forced myself back into reality. “But what about your place, the one you just rented a few months ago after you sold your house in New Jersey?”

“Honestly? It doesn’t feel much like home to me. It’s too empty. Besides, I spend most of my time here when I’m not working. I’d prefer to be your neighbor.” Your neighbor. That sentiment had such a lovely ring to it.

“It would be rather convenient,” I admitted, flushed at the thought of the former boy heartthrob becoming the man next door, “especially if I need to borrow a cup of sugar.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that because I’m such a sweet guy,” he smiled.

“And a good kisser,” I acknowledged with a grin. “Pucker up, Captain Peacock!”

The following morning, I lay in bed, trying to sort through the many thoughts swirling around in my head. That Laurel might want some romance in her life was a shocker for me -- admittedly so; but she was an interesting, intelligent woman with a good sense of humor and a heart of gold. Why shouldn’t she have a companion to share the remaining years with on life’s often rocky path? I tried to picture my mother going out on dates -- what would that be like? Should I worry if she wasn’t home by midnight? Would she suddenly start shacking up with the good doctor at every cheap motel from here to Kennebunkport? Hardly likely, I decided. For one thing, I doubted cheap motels install wheelchair ramps and that was a must for Laurel. Still, I wasn’t really sure how it would all play out.

And then I remembered that Kenny would be living a few doors down the road. It all seemed so surreal to me, like a dream I wished I had dreamed long ago. Kenny was, at heart, a family man. He had loved his late wife dearly; of that, there was no doubt. Why would he enjoy living alone after so many years of being a devoted husband and father? Some folks are just born “people persons” and Kenny certainly fit that description. That was obvious to me once we began dating in earnest. But did that mean he would commit his heart to loving me?

A warm little fur ball rolled over in bed and pawed my arm, looking for a tickle. Huckleberry was ready to rise.

“Who’s the boy?” I asked him, giving his belly a rub as I ran through the day’s schedule in my mind. There was a lot to do. At the top of the list was to get started on the wedding plan. “I suppose we should get moving.”

Twenty minutes later, after a brisk jaunt through the neighborhood with Huckleberry and January, I was in the kitchen, whipping up banana nut muffins in anticipation of the breakfast crowd.

“Good morning!” Jenny popped in with her little Cavalier King Charles spaniel at her feet. “Mozzie and I are off for a hike up to White Oak Hill, but I need a little food for the trail.”

An adventurous teen, she liked to climb to the summit with the little dog most summer mornings, travel mug of coffee in hand. I suspect it was because it reminded her of her old life in New Hampshire, the one she shared with her late mother.

“I’ve got blueberry muffins left over from yesterday’s breakfast in the freezer and Greek yogurt in the fridge.”

“You’re a peach, Miz Scarlet.”

“I am indeed; that also happens to be the yogurt flavor of the day,” I replied. I opened the oven door and slid the muffin pan in as Jenny tucked the yogurt and muffin in her insulated fanny pack and zipped it up. She poured coffee into her thermal cup, added some cream and sugar, capped the lid.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” she informed me.

After setting the table for the guests, I placed a pitcher of orange juice in the butler’s pantry alongside a pitcher of milk, and then checked the breakfast set-up on the counter. The tiny cereal boxes were displayed in wicker basket for guests to help themselves. A cut glass bowl held fresh tropical fruit salad made with pineapple, papaya, mango, kiwi, and banana. Crisp bacon, wrapped in foil, was warming in the oven, ready for plating. All that was left to do was to scramble the eggs and toast the bread when guests sat down in the dining room.

“Good morning!” said a voice behind me. I turned and greeted Dr. Van Zandt. He was wearing a madras plaid cotton shirt and a pair of chinos, with Topsiders on his feet. He looked like he belonged on a sailboat on Long Island Sound. That’s not a bad thing for a woman like Laurel, who loves the sea. Maybe they could take a cruise together.

“How are you today?” I gave him a bright smile.

“Very well, I must say.” He chose a seat at the table next to the space where my mother normally parked her wheelchair to dine. Was he calling shotgun or was his choice of chair just a coincidence? Before I had time to ruminate on the matter, I spied my mother making her way down the hallway. She was wearing her favorite blue blouse, the one with the embroidered Peter Pan collar. Just below that was her favorite strand of freshwater pearls. She had swept up her hair in an elegant French twist, so that her pearl earrings showed nicely.

“Don’t you look lovely this morning,” I told her. “Are you going out?”

Dr. Van Zandt rose from his chair, giving Laurel a slight bow. “Indeed she is. She has promised to escort me on a driving tour of Cheswick after church. I’m also hoping I can convince her to have lunch with me.”

“That sounds like fun. You certainly have a picture perfect day for it.”

“Well, considering I have that medical appointment tomorrow, I decided to enjoy myself before the ax falls. I’m not looking forward to the tests.”

“That’s understandable, Thaddeus, even though I’m sure it will all work out just fine,” my mother reassured him.

According to Lacey, who lived to ferret out guest information, Thaddeus Van Zandt had been a physician for the better part of forty years. He and his wife had lived in West Hartford for much of that time, but after her death, he sold their home and moved to Maine, to be closer to his daughter and her family. A long-time cancer survivor, he returned every year for his annual physical with his oncologist. This was his first visit to the Four Acorns Inn, but judging from the way he looked at my mother, I doubted it would be his last. He had asked if he might extend his visit, especially if something unusual surfaced during his physical exam.

“You know what they say,” he laughed. “Doctors make the worst patients.”

“Surely not in your case!” My mother patted his hand. It was a gesture I hadn’t seen her make since my dad passed away, and yet it seemed so normal.

“Well, maybe I’m not so bad, but I could tell you horror stories about my colleagues.”

I left them to their conversation, smiling as I walked back into the kitchen. I put the bread into the toaster, ready to get started.

“Well?” Lacey sat at the kitchen island, a glass of orange juice in her hand. “What are they talking about?”

“They’re going to church and then for a drive, followed by lunch. Will that work for you?”

“It’s a start.”

“Scrambled eggs and toast will be up in a couple of minutes,” I informed her, turning on the burner under the griddle pan.

“I’ll just eat here, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to cramp your mother’s style.”

“You think you might?”

“Two’s company, three’s a crowd, Scarlet. You’d be wise to remember that.”

“I’ll try my darnedest,” I laughed. Through the open kitchen door, I saw Ms. Vinson strolling purposefully towards the dining room. “What’s four? Here comes Florence.”

“Nuts! I’ll be eating in the dining room after all!” she groaned, scrambling to get off the kitchen stool and beat the new arrival to the table, no doubt to grab the chair on the other side of the man of the hour.

The Johnsons and the Wilkies soon filled the rest of the empty chairs at the table before the platters of scrambled eggs were passed. Poor Ms. Vinson was relegated to the opposite corner of the table, where she engaged in conversation with the Johnsons about the art of fly fishing. I suspected it was her way of trying to capture Dr. Van Zandt’s attention, but it seemed to go nowhere. By half past eight, the last platter of eggs was passed and all were satiated. With a final round of coffees poured, I cleared their plates while they chatted.

“Well,” said the man with the bald pate, exuding the charisma of Sean Connery as his female admirers hung on his every word. “We should probably get going.”

“Oh?” Florence’s head shot up. “Where are you heading?”

“To church,” said Dr. Van Zandt.

“Can I get a lift with you?” Florence didn’t even bother to wait for the answer. She dabbed her lips with her napkin before she placed it on the table. “I’ll just go and get my pocketbook”

One look at my mother’s face spoke volumes. I heaved a great sigh at the thought she would be so disappointed on what was one of the first dates since my father died. And then I got a brilliant idea.

“Lacey, I have a hankering to go to church today. Care to join me?”

“As a matter of fact, Scarlet, I think I do. Say, why don’t you two go along? Florence can ride with us.”

“Yes,” I agreed, herding them towards the hallway as Lacey scooted away to intercept the persistent Ms. Vinson, “you go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

“Do you want us to save you seats in the same pew?”

“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about us. Just go enjoy yourselves.”

The front door had no sooner closed behind the pair when Florence began her descent down the grand staircase.

“Did they just leave without me?” The scowling face and quickened pace confirmed our worst fears. She had the hots for Thaddeus.

“Not to worry. We’ll give you a ride. I just have to grab my purse. I won’t be a moment.”

“You’re going too?” she demanded, her voice brittle.