Page 18 of Suddenly Single
As Wilbur and Boz began to sniff around the markers, Edan brushed some leaves from Clara’s headstone.Here lies Clara Catherine Monroe, Beloved Daughter, Sister, Aunt...
She had definitely been beloved. She’d been ten years younger than Edan’s mother, and she’d always felt more like a cousin or sister than aunt to him. He’d loved her like a sister, certainly. He’d trusted her explicitly, had found her easy to talk to.And she’d always given him good advice.
He’d started coming up here to her grave when Audra left him.
He squatted down and pulled a few weeds that had sprung up at the base of the headstone.“No rain for a week,” he said aloud.“It’s been beastly hot.” He didn’t know why he always started with the weather.It wasn’t as if Aunt Clara had ever been particularly interested in weather and she certainly wasn’t now.
He settled back on his heels and said, “I’ve a guest.The inn is closed, aye, but I discovered her after Rosalyn and Hugh’s wedding Sunday evening.She appeared on the doorstep like a bloody orphan and I couldna turn her away.” He pulled another weed.“She’s a barmy lass,” he said.“It’s always an American off on some daft adventure, is it no’? Remember the bloke with the glasses? The one who stayed in his room for a week?” Edan shook his head—he still wasn’t convinced that strange young man hadn’t been plotting something awful in his room that week.“The lass had nowhere else to go.”
He sighed, and picked another weed.
“You’d no’ believe how she talks, Clara.She havers on without as much as a breath.I canna begin to recall all she’s said, and I’ll be damned if I know what to make of it.” He looked curiously at the headstone.“Did Audra talk so much? I canna remember precisely.Did you?” It seemed so odd to him that characteristics of people he loved that were once so vivid turn to monochrome with time.
He turned his head and squinted as he looked out over the lake.“She’s pretty,” he blurted.“The lass, I mean. I like her hair.Pretty blue eyes, too.” He ran a hand over his crown.“And a proper bonny smile. But she’s bloodybarmy,” he said again with a shake of his head.
Boz wandered over and stuck his muzzle under Edan’s hand, wanting to be petted.Edan absently stroked the dog’s ears, then finally stood up.He gazed down at Aunt Clara’s headstone. If she were here, she’d tell him to get on with it.To stop moping, to look forward.She’d tell him that Audra ended it between them, and there was no point in wishing it weren’t so.That he had a lot of life ahead of him, far too much life to waste time crying about a breakup.
Life is so lovely it’s hard to know where to start.
He did not want to debate with Clara’s ghost.“I’m going fishing,” he announced, and picked up his things, and walked out the old iron gate and down to the lake.
On the edge of the lake, Edan chopped down the blasted bramble bush and managed to retrieve his lure.He’d come so close to losing it that he opted for a different lure for afternoon fishing.That lure didn’t work on Old Bugger, but he did manage to catch two small trout.Fresh fish would be nice on the grill tonight.He’d clean up, do some paperwork, and then fire the grill.Tomorrow, Rosalyn and Hugh would return, the inn would reopen, and by the weekend, the inn would receive the last bookings.In two weeks, it would be shuttered. Put on the market. Rosalyn and Hugh were moving to the city.Sandra, who had been Clara’s partner for twenty years, was going to live with her sister in Buffalo. Ned was retiring to East Beach.
Edan whistled for his dogs and trudged home with his two fish.The inn, a massive Victorian mansion built in the style of the American monied upper class before the stock market crash, had been brought into the twenty-first century with a few additions. He had private living quarters, a terrace with a barbecue grill, and a renovated kitchen.It was his personal kitchen, rarely used, but gleaming with promise.
Edan cleaned the fish, fed his dogs, and showered.He went over some paperwork that needed his immediate attention.By the time he’d finished, it was early evening.On the terrace, he fired the grill, brought out his fish, and helped himself to whisky as the fillets slow cooked.
It was a nice evening, cool and still.Edan was sitting on one of the padded chairs, his head back, his eyes closed. He was tired—he’d been running for weeks with the work of following his plan to close down the inn and put it up for sale. The work had caught up to him.He put aside his whisky, sank deeper into that chair.
But something felt off.He opened his eyes—and jumped to his feet.
“Sorry! I didn’t want to disturb you.You looked like you were sleeping.Were you sleeping?”
It washeragain.What was she doing here? How had she managed to wander back into his private grounds? And why was she holding lettuce and a cucumber?
“You’re probably wondering what I am doing,” she said, as if reading his mind.
Edan stared at her.
“I rang the little bell, but no one came.”
“Aye. For as we’ve previously established, the inn isclosed.”
“See? That’s the problem.I hate to bother you, but I didn’t know what else
to do. I need a bowl. And a knife,” she said, and held out her lettuce and cucumber. “And there is no one to ask at the front desk.”
Edan looked at her produce.
The lass looked at the grill.“Somethingsmells delicious.”
The fish, for God’s sake.Edan lunged toward the grill.He quickly turned the filets as she crowded in next to him to have a look.“Did you catch those today? They smell so good! What kind of seasoning did you use?”
He closed the grill and glared down at her.
She was wearing a long skirt and a loose, boxy sweater that swung around her hips.She’d braided her hair and the tail of it hung over her shoulder.She looked fresh.Full of spirit.She smiled at him with those brilliant blue eyes and held up her lettuce and cucumber again.“I could make enough for two, you know.”
Edan folded his arms. “Are you seriously offering a head of lettuce in exchange for fish I labored to catch?”
