Sealed Off

Like us, the Snuggs were in transition from their tourist season to their off-season lives. In the summer they shared the windowed study at the back of the first floor as a bedroom so all the rooms upstairs could be rented. They were still sleeping in the back room, because the inn was full on the weekends with leaf peepers and folks trying to grab onto the last of the beautiful days. But on a Monday night, the B and B was empty of guests, the way I preferred it. Much as I loved visiting in the summer when Vee made her wonderful English breakfasts, it was lovely to have the old Victorian house feeling like a home again, even if it was only until the weekend.

The sisters ushered us into their living room. The Snuggs still used the antique furniture their parents had brought over when the family had moved from England so Fee and Vee’s father could work as the golf pro at Busman’s Harbor Country Club. Sonny put Jack on the Oriental rug. He couldn’t yet crawl, but he had perfected a rolling-over motion that got him around quite efficiently. He immediately approached Mackie, who unlike some terriers, was a patient and tolerant dog, used to B and B guests including little kids. Lots of B and Bs in the harbor didn’t accept children, but the Snuggs said the kind of parents who would bring their family to stay at a place without a pool or TVs in the rooms inevitably had lovely children.

“June 23, 1898

“The house is as grand from the inside as it is from the outside, though the atmosphere is informal. There are often maids to be found on the front staircase, or yacht crewmen hanging about in the kitchen. I doubt life is like that in the house in Back Bay. Mrs. Stout is a good woman. Everything she cooks is tasty whether for the family or the servants.

“I have experienced both, for as usual, I exist between worlds, no one quite knowing what to do with me. I sleep on the family floor, but in a small room off the nursery. The nursery is unused now, except for my lessons with William and Charles when we are forced by the weather to stay indoors. The young men have their own bedrooms. There was a little sister who died of scarlet fever. Despite its size the old nursery has a gloomy feel and I take the young men outdoors for their lessons as often as I can.

“The death of her daughter must explain the sadness I sense around the younger Mrs. Morrow. She is retiring and spends much of her day in a rocker on the front porch, lost in a novel. The boys, William and Charles, are both bright and willing students. William is a bit of a bully toward his younger brother, who is sweet-natured and sensitive. Mr. Morrow has expressed the hope that William will serve as Charles’s protector when they are away at school, but I believe Charles will be relieved to have a cohort of his own friends around him to dilute William’s looming presence.

“Mrs. Morrow the older acts as if she still runs the house and no one puts her in check. The younger Mrs. Morrow is too detached, whether that is the cause or the effect. Mr. Morrow is either too busy or does not want to disturb the detente that has settled in the household. Young Mr. Frederick seems to enjoy the current setup, with his doting mother ruling the roost.

“He is often out sailing in the small sailboat or playing croquet on the lawn with the young men, or swimming off the little beach on the other side of the island. He makes a dashing figure.

“The staff is pleasant enough, although the housekeeper, Mrs. Franklin, is feckless and absentminded, not good qualities in someone who must manage the household. I doubt she will last the summer. The maids are pleasant, cheery girls who love flirting with the crewmen, who flirt back. The yacht captain is a bit like myself, neither one thing nor the other. He is a Navy man and well educated. Like me, an employee, but not a servant. He has an impressive brown beard and intelligent blue eyes that laugh when he does. Though we are both consigned to limbo, we have not become friends as we see each other infrequently.

“I write this in my little room off the nursery. It is quite pleasant, especially in the morning when the window lets in bright sunlight, which I think must be why it is placed so strangely. It is too high in the wall for me to see out, though I can always go into the nursery if I need to. I have to open and close it with a tall stick that resides in the room for this purpose. There is a door in the wall that connects my little room to the bedroom next door. It is locked but sometimes I hear Mr. Frederick moving around in there, which is disconcerting.”