Page 69 of Stony Point Summer
“Somethingiswrong. I won’t lie to you.” Elsa leans on the porch railing. “Things are not good, actually.”
“Oh my God! You come inside and sit down.” Celia grabs Elsa’s arm and pulls her into the guest cottage. Leading her straight to the couch, Celia sits Elsa there, then steps back and props her hands on her hips. “You tell me, right now,whatis going on.”
Elsa immediately stands again and paces the small living room. She passes the end table, where dried marsh grasses spill from a seashell vase. She brushes her hand along a white board-and-batten wall. Finally, Elsa turns. “Dry your hair, dear,” she says. “And get dressed first.”
Celia, hands still on her robed hips, squints at Elsa across the room. “Is everyone okay? Cliff?” She steps closer. “Maris and Jason?”
“Yes, yes.” Elsa waves her away. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Well, if it’s nobody else, then it’syou, Elsa.”
Elsa’s voice is matter-of-fact when she answers. “It is.”
“Iknewit. You’re so serious. And upset! Is everything still happening tonight? With the ribbon-cutting, and the grand opening ceremony?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Celia says. She turns toward her bedroom, and suddenly spins right back. “But then, what—”
Elsa holds up a rigid hand to stop her pressing questions. “Cee. I’ll explaineverythingin a bit. Let me go home and tend to a few things while you get changed. Meet me in the old Foley’s back room for an early lunch, okay?”
“I’m not sure I’m liking the sound of this.” Celia sinks into an overstuffed club chair. But her eyes never leave Elsa’s, as though worried she’ll miss something with even a glance away. Miss some clue that will spill Elsa’s dire news. “You’re scaring me now,” Celia admits, her voice low.
“I’ll tell you everything there, in the back room. We’ll sit in a booth and have cucumber sandwiches in this blessed heat.” Elsa wipes her fingers across her damp forehead. “Now go get dressed.”
“But Elsa—”
“Go! Get ready,” Elsa insists as she turns to the front door, her long airy dress swirling. “It’ll give me a chance to slice cucumbers and put together a lunch.”
Celia trots across the living room to where Elsa stands. She takes Elsa’s hand again and gives a squeeze, as though she senses it. Something bad’s coming. “Okay,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “Love you. And I’ll see you in a little bit.”
When Elsa rushes down Celia’s porch steps and hurries across the green lawn to her inn, she doesn’t dare look back. Doesn’t dare turn. Because some things you know. And she just knows Celia will be standing on that gingerbread cottage porch. She’ll be standing straight in her short summer robe. With that towel turban on her head, she’ll press her fingers to her lips as she dreads whatever’s to come.
* * *
So Elsa marches on.
Once at the inn, she stops at the outside staircase to the deck off the back room. The paper lanterns strung across the deck look pretty in the morning light. Cliff easily arranged them last night, before their campfire. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have thislunchwith Celia be an easy one. To have this lunchnotbe the hour when she’ll break dear Celia’s tender heart.
But some things in this life there are just no escaping.
What Elsacando is try to make things better, though. Even a little. Because there’s always the sea, the sea … just beyond the dune grasses. Yes. She’ll open the sliding windows in the back room. Maybe some hint of a salty breeze will drift in off those waters of the sea.
Maybe that will help.
With that, Elsa carefully walks up the inn’s outside staircase. She crosses the deck to the old original wooden door leading to Foley’s back room. With a good shove then, she shoulders open that sticking door and steps inside.
twenty-six
— Then —
10 Years Ago
Evening of Cake Tasting
The Apartment
RIGHT AT DUSK, AN OLD pickup truck slows on the main thoroughfare in Westcreek. Everything from the truck’s sun-faded paint to a dinged-up toolbox mounted in the truck’s bed makes one thing obvious: That pickup’s spent many a day parked at one messy job site or another.
