Page 12 of The Cottage on Plum Island
“Of course,” Caroline stated, sipping her coffee. “I’d feel better about you going on the hike tomorrow when your cousin is home and can go with you.”
“Okay,” Jules agreed, pushing her chair back. “Excuse me, I’m going to get some juice.”
“Can you bring a few bottles of water, too, honey?” Caroline asked as Jules went into the kitchen.
“I was hoping that this Reef crush would die down while we were visiting Brad’s parents,” Caroline admitted.
“Oh, come on, Caro,” Jennifer said as she leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her coffee mug. “It’s Jules’s first crush. Rather be supportive and keep an open flow of communication than have her sneak around with the guy.”
“You’re right,” Caroline agreed.
“Reef’s a decent guy,” Jennifer commented. “Right up until Jules showed an interest in him, you liked the guy.”
The gentle sea breeze tenderly brushed against Jennifer and Caroline as they sat on the front porch swing, gazing out over the endless expanse of the ocean. Their second cup of coffee was cradled in their hands, the rhythmic lull of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Caroline and Jules had already wrapped up their early lunch, leavingthe two friends to share a quiet moment before the anticipated arrival of Brad and his son, Connor.
Underneath the afternoon sun, its golden rays turned the water into a mesmerizing tapestry of sparkling jewels. Jennifer, enveloped in the comforting creaks of the swing, delved into recounting the day’s events: Aunt Betty, the unexpected encounter with Harley on the roadside, Sam’s unfortunate fall, and the lingering irritation sparked by Harley’s presence. However, her narrative was abruptly halted by the jarring ring of her phone—a call from a Newbury Port furniture store—breaking the tranquility.
“Sorry, Caroline, I have to take this; I’m waiting for a bed to be delivered.” Jennifer’s voice softened as she answered. “Hello?”
“Is that Miss Gains?” inquired a voice on the other end.
“Yes, it is,” Jennifer replied, hope and frustration mingling. “Please tell me you’re not canceling the delivery again today.”
“No, ma’am,” reassured the man on the line. “We’re here at Beach Plum Cottage, but no one is home.”
“Are you sure?” Jennifer’s brows knit tightly together. Aunt Betty was there when she left, and Harley was about to arrive. “My aunt and a contractor, Mr. Donovan, should be there.”
“There’s no one here, Miss Gains,” the man assured her. “We’ve been here for nearly ten minutes and have walked around the cottage.”
“Is there a pickup in the driveway?” Jennifer asked him, her worry escalating.
“No, there’s only a blue sedan,” the man told her.
“That’s my aunt’s car.” Jennifer’s frown deepened as her heartbeat picked up speed. “Give me ten minutes; I’m on my way.” She hung up and readied herself to leave.
Caroline’s concern deepened as she listened. “What’s happening? Is it Aunt Betty?” she inquired.
Her brow furrowed. Jennifer shook her head and replied, “Aunt Betty’s new bed I ordered for her has arrived. But Harley and Aunt Betty aren’t there.”
The revelation cast a shadow over the sunny porch. Jennifer’s worry intensified when she checked her phone for missed messages or calls. She attempted to call her aunt, only to be met with a voicemail. A futile attempt to reach Harley yielded the same result.
“I’m sorry, Caro, but I’m going to have to go home,” Jennifer announced, the weight of uncertainty tainting her words.
“I’m coming with you,” Caroline declared, echoing Jennifer’s concern.
As the two friends headed towards the house, Caroline called out to Jules, who had been drawn to the commotion. Abrief exchange ensued, with Jules agreeing to stay behind and await the arrival of Brad and Connor, accompanied by her trio of furry companions.
Navigating the winding road away from the lighthouse, Jennifer’s car carried them toward Midpoint, leaving the coastal beacon in their wake. Silence hung heavy in the air, accompanied by a sense of foreboding that grew stronger with each passing moment.
“Maybe Aunt Betty asked Harley to take her into town for something,” Caroline suggested, attempting to dispel the uneasy atmosphere.
Jennifer nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her eyes. “Yeah, that could be it. But Aunt Betty rarely goes out without telling me. Especially now with a broken leg.”
Approaching the fork in the road leading to Lookout Point or Beach Plum Cottage, Jennifer slowed down and took the turn off. The bumpy journey down the familiar road felt unusually prolonged before the car finally pulled into the driveway.
The delivery van stood conspicuously near the front door of the cottage. As Jennifer parked beneath the old beach plum tree, she and Caroline stepped out to greet the delivery men. Their unease over the missing Betty was palpable in the soft rustling of the leaves overhead.
Jennifer signed for the bed and unlocked the silent cottage, guiding the delivery men to place the bed in the living room. She intendedto handle the arrangement later, considering the need to sort out Betty’s room and remove the old bed. Despite the men’s offer to assist, Jennifer graciously declined, knowing her aunt preferred rearranging the room herself.
