Hearts at Home Read online

  “EBay,” Caleb had confided on her last visit when she had asked about a lovely oil lamp that had once stood in a niche by the stairs. “The best place for quick cash. Mike Klackenbush has been helping Missy sell a few things.”

  Annie had learned that any mention of missing items was likely to strike a spark. The one thing Olympia would always possess was a sensitive pride.

  She set down her cup and peered out the black window of the back door. “Where’d Dr. Marc run off to?”

  “Back to his place, I should imagine.” Olympia smoothed the lace at her throat, then gave Annie a frayed smile. “Caleb tells me he offered to run out and walk you home from the dock. That was kind—Caleb is getting too old to go out in this cold and windy weather.”

  “I keep telling her the cold doesn’t bother me.” Caleb gave Annie a grin. “But you surprised us by coming in unescorted. I think Dr. Marc was looking forward to seeing you.”

  Annie lowered her gaze as a blush burned her cheekbones. The entire town must be talking about her romance with A.J., otherwise known as Dr. Alex Hayes, son of the town physician. Since October, Dr. Marc had been badgering Annie about meeting his son, and finally, on Christmas Eve, their paths had intersected at the ferry landing in Ogunquit. In the ensuing five weeks they had seen each other several times … when they could find time to be together. With Annie living in Maine and A.J. in Manhattan, they weren’t together often, but what were cell phones for, if not long-distance dating?

  “How is A.J., dear?” Olympia lifted her teacup. “We haven’t seen him since Christmas.”

  “I haven’t seen him in two weeks.” Annie shrugged. “We try to get together, but, you know, things happen. He has a medical emergency to attend to, his plane is at the mechanic, or something else comes up. But he’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

  She fell silent as a touch of the old awkwardness crept into the conversation. Not so long ago, she and Aunt Olympia could hardly exchange greetings without venturing onto minefields of sensitive issues, and now she felt the ground begin to shudder beneath her feet. If Aunt Olympia answered with one of her “That’s the trouble with young folks these days …”

  But she didn’t. Giving Caleb a smile, Olympia stood, her hair gleaming in the light from the overhead fixture. “Let’s adjourn to the parlor.” She bent to pick up her teacup. “Caleb, will you serve the brownies when they’re ready? Annie, you may bring your cup, of course.”

  Feeling a little like a lamb on its way to the slaughter, Annie obediently lifted her mug and followed Olympia down the hall.

  Though Olympia usually took the wing chair by the fireplace, tonight she purposely sat on the sofa to be closer to Annie. Her niece followed, a little reluctantly perhaps, but settled into her usual place at the opposite end of the couch. Careful to take a coaster from the stack on the polished coffee table, the girl set her mug on the sandstone, then reached for a velvet pillow and propped it against her side.

  Olympia studied the pillow leaning against Annie’s arm like a wall. She’d just finished a Ladies Home Journal article about body language, and this pillow-propping gesture indicated that Annie still felt less than comfortable with the woman who had sheltered and succored her for all those years… .

  Olympia closed her eyes in resignation. Sometimes the young were blind to things they would not understand until they had lived through the same situation.

  Opening her eyes, she forced a smile. “Did Captain Stroble bring you over, or have we been reduced to traveling with Crazy Odell?”

  Annie laughed. “The captain’s still in town. He said Mazie is a bit under the weather, probably from nerves. But as soon as she’s better, they’re heading off to Florida. Then you’ll have to wrangle with Odell.”

  Olympia shuddered slightly. “I’d rather be island-bound an entire month than travel with that nutty old man. He’s as reckless as a teenage boy in that boat of his— in fact, sometimes I think he is a teenage boy. Between the ages of fourteen and twenty, you know, the logic circuits in a child’s brain become disconnected. I think Odell’s circuits never got plugged back in again.”

  Annie snorted. “What psychologist have you been reading?”

  Olympia sniffed. “No psychologist, it’s just common sense. That’s what’s wrong with young people today; nobody places any value on plain common sense.”

  As Annie leaned forward and reached for her cocoa, Olympia saw her roll her eyes.

  She sighed. All right, so this visit wasn’t off to a great start. If they couldn’t discuss the boyfriend or common sense, what could they talk about? Certainly not Annie’s tomatoes—Annie didn’t bear failure easily, and that wound was bound to be fresh. They could plan the Valentine’s party, but what if they exhausted that topic tonight? Annie wouldn’t go back until late tomorrow, so they’d have to bear each other’s company through breakfast, lunch, and the afternoon with nothing whatsoever to talk about.

  Annie suddenly stiffened and gestured to the vacant spot near the fireplace. “Aunt Olympia, what happened to the beautiful secretary that used to stand over there?”

  “Olives.” Olympia brought a fingertip to her lips. “I bought five cans last month from the mercantile, and from what I hear, Vernie Bidderman nearly noodled herself into an early grave wondering what I planned to do with them. I told Caleb not to let on, though, and you need to keep my secret, too. I want my little party to be a surprise. An unexpected gesture of gentility and good will.”

  Annie narrowed her eyes. “You sold that secretary, didn’t you? Why on earth would you sell that lovely piece?”

  “The Vienna sausages, on the other hand, I picked up in Ogunquit.” Olympia lifted her saucer, perfectly balancing her teacup so the delicate china wouldn’t rattle. “I knew if I bought too many supplies at the mercantile, Vernie would know something was up and broadcast the news. So I’ve been buying things on the sly, taking a guilty pleasure in my little mystery—”

  “Don’t ignore me, Aunt Olympia.” Annie pushed the pillow down and leaned toward her, her eyes as direct as headlights. “What did you do with the secretary?”

  Pulling back, Olympia blinked. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters to me. You loved that piece, so why’d you sell it?”

  Olympia shook her head. “It was just another thing for Caleb to dust.”

  “It belonged to your grandmother!”

  “See? A worthless old thing.”

  “It wasn’t worthless, Aunt Olympia, it was probably worth a small fortune. Haven’t you ever watched Antiques Roadshow?”

  “Is that on TV? I don’t like TV. Young people these days spend entirely too much time in front of the television watching claptrap and whatnot—”

  “Ayuh, it’s a show, and it’d do you good to watch it. People are always bringing in junk from their attics and finding out their stuff is worth thousands of dollars.”

  Straightening, Olympia smoothed the folds of her dress. “I’d never have figured you for a gold digger, Annie.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. You know I’m not going to be around forever. But if you’re concerned about your inheritance, well, you needn’t worry. You know the house will be yours, so I can’t see why you’re worried about me selling a few dusty old pieces riddled with worm holes—”

  “Time out.” Annie made a T with her arms, then gaped at Olympia. “What do you mean, the house will be mine? I didn’t know that—and I certainly would never ask for it! You and Caleb will probably be living here another fifty years, so keep the things you love. If you’re determined to be rid of your antiques, call me first. I’ll buy them and at least we can keep them in the family.”

  Olympia snorted. “That meager teacher’s salary is barely enough to support you. How are you supposed to afford antiques?”

  “I’m a professor, Auntie,” Annie countered. “I make a decent living.”

  “You’re a twenty-eight-year-old part-time teacher and researc
her who’s never had a success in her life. When everybody was talking about how wonderful those tomatoes were, I told Caleb it would just be a matter of time before something—”

  “Look what I found, ladies.”

  Distracted, Olympia looked up as Caleb entered the room, a plate of brownies in one hand and a leather-covered album in the other.

  “I was cleaning out a chest upstairs the other day and came across this. Since you two gals have nothing pressing to do tonight, I thought you might enjoy a trip down memory lane.”

  Olympia drew in a breath as he placed the heavy album on her lap. His timing was impeccable, as always, for she’d been about to tell Annie that her dreams were too big. Things never went well when she was honest with the girl. That was the trouble with young folk these days: you had to pussyfoot around them and use nothing but gentle words. In her youth, people said what they meant and meant what they said, and things were a lot simpler.

  Annie’s hurt expression softened when Caleb gave her a smile. “Thanks, Caleb,” she whispered.

  As Annie took a brownie, Olympia opened the first page. On a sheet of heavy black paper someone had mounted a sepiatoned photograph of her mother and father standing tall and proud on the front steps of Frenchman’s Fairest. Her mother carried a baby dressed in ribbons and ruffles.

  “Look at that!” Annie leaned closer, her face hidden by her swinging hair. “Are you the baby, Auntie?”

  “That’s my little brother Ferrell—your father.” Even after all these years, a lump rose in Olympia’s throat at the mention of his name. She and Ferrell had been close as children and even as adults until Ferrell’s wife, Ruth Ann, had come between them. Ruth Ann was soft like Annie, preferring insincere nonsense to plain-spoken truth.

  “I can’t get used to seeing little boys in ruffles.” Annie ran her fingertip over the old photograph. “When I have a little boy—I mean, if I have a little boy—I’m going to dress him in blue jeans and overalls. No kid of mine is going to be confused about his sexual identity.”

  Olympia blanched at the word sexual, but Annie didn’t seem to notice. That was the trouble with young people these days: They shamelessly tossed around all kinds of private words without regard to who might be listening. Olympia couldn’t say the word womb without feeling faint.

  Quickly, she turned the page. “This one is me.” She tapped the photo of a somber-faced girl holding a kitten. “I still remember that cat. I called him Mr. Jingles.”

  Annie laughed softly but offered no comment, so Olympia continued through the pages, pointing out landmarks on the island and people related to some of the island’s current residents.

  “Heavenly Daze has changed.” Annie nodded at one of the pictures. “I can’t imagine the Gallery without the Lobster Pot standing next to it.”

  “That restaurant is a positive fright.” Olympia pointed to a black and white photo of the church and parsonage. “And so is the municipal building they put up next to the minister’s house. My parents protested loud and long, but even they couldn’t stand against progress.” She sniffed. “At least, progress is what they called it. I call it plain ugly.”

  Sensing a lag in Annie’s interest, she turned a few more pages, wondering when Caleb had taken the time to assemble this book. The last time she’d seen these photos, they’d been cluttering up an empty shoe box at the back of her closet.

  “Here.” She pointed at a picture of another little girl, this one thin and somber, with dark curls trailing down the sides of her face like tangled ivy. “That’s you, Annie. Taken during your first week with us on Heavenly Daze.”

  Annie bent closer, almost low enough for her nose to touch the paper. “That’s me? Good grief, what a mess I was!”

  Olympia pressed her hand to her heart as a well of pain bubbled up from memories long suppressed. She’d been a mess, too, in those days, grieving over Ferrell and frightened to death at the thought of raising another child—especially one as odd and fanciful as Annie. She’d passed several nights on her knees, begging God for answers, pleading for strength and wisdom.

  Somehow, he had supplied both.

  Olympia drew a deep breath, then made an effort to lighten her voice. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Annie. You were a mite upset and confused in those days. Wouldn’t have been natural if you’d been a sunny little thing.”

  Silence stretched between them for a moment, then Annie looked up and met Olympia’s gaze. “I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you properly, Auntie, but I’m grateful you took me in back then.” Her brown eyes gentled. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

  Olympia swallowed hard. “Worthwhile things generally aren’t.”

  From the foyer, Caleb leaned forward, unabashedly eavesdropping on his charges. He’d been alarmed earlier when Olympia’s tone had gone frosty, and he could almost see Annie’s temper rising. But the photograph album had done the trick and reminded them of how far they’d come together … and how much they needed each other.

  His preparations were nearly complete. Earlier that day Gavriel had appeared in the kitchen to relay a special assignment from on high. The mission had been years in the making, but tonight it would finally be fulfilled.

  The butler glanced at the clock. The women still had time to reminisce. And gentle words shared in the next few hours would last, like apples of gold, throughout eternity.

  As the mantle clock struck eleven, Olympia closed the album, the image of the last picture still floating upon her retinas. The photo had been of her and Annie, locked in an embrace at the dock. That frozen moment had taken place during Annie’s parting after Christmas, when their hearts had never been fonder or more united.

  She didn’t want to lose that closeness, yet time and distance would inevitably take its toll. But if she’d learned one thing from watching Annie nurse those spindly tomato plants, it was that growing things needed frequent doses of water and sunlight.

  Relationships needed affirmation.

  “I love you, girl.” Tears stung Olympia’s eyes as the words tumbled over her lips, and for an instant she couldn’t look at her niece. Annie would never understand how difficult it was to say such things. Such endearments were against Olympia’s nature and everything she’d been taught as a child. Properly brought up women did not emote in public, wear their feelings upon their faces, or wallow in sentimentality. But young people today were more open about their feelings, and if Annie could only meet her halfway …

  “Oh, Olympia!” Annie reached out and drew her into an embrace. Olympia stiffened at first, from surprise and the use of her name without a title. So she was no longer “Aunt,” but merely “Olympia,” as if they were no longer guardian and child, but two women bound by affection and friendship.

  Slowly she relaxed, then rubbed the younger woman’s back. “Shh,” she whispered, though Annie hadn’t said another word. “I’m glad you’re home. Tomorrow after church we’ll plan the menu for my party and Caleb will make us a nice brunch. You can say hello to all the townsfolk, and I’m sure some of them will come down to the dock when it’s time to see you off—”

  Annie pulled back, but kept her hands on Olympia’s shoulders. “I don’t need hellos from the entire town to feel welcome. I only need you.”

  “Well, now.” Olympia forced a smile, then pulled out of Annie’s grip and stood. She took a step forward, then hesitated as the room spun slightly before her eyes. If she’d known hugging could make her feel lightheaded … she’d have done it more often.

  She glanced back at her niece. “I’m going to bed. You coming up now?”

  Annie shook her head, then pointed to the flickering flames in the fireplace. “It’s so cozy here, I think I’ll stay awake and read a while. I’m not sleepy, anyway. Too much caffeine on the drive down.”

  “Tallulah?” Olympia spoke to the dog drowsing on a pillow near the fire. “You coming up?”

  The sly old dog opened one eye, then shut it again, pretending to sleep.

  �
�She can stay down here a while,” Annie said, turning to rest her legs on the sofa. “I’ll let her into your room when I come up.”

  “That’d be nice. Thank you, dear.” Olympia nodded, then made her way to the stairs, noticing how much brighter the house seemed with Annie in it.

  Annie had read only two pages of her book when Caleb tiptoed into the parlor, a serving tray in his hand. “Don’t let me bother you,” he said, reaching for her empty mug. “I just want to put these things away before I go to bed.”

  “Let me help you.” She picked up Olympia’s teacup and saucer and set them on the tray, then caught the older man’s eye. “The album was a great idea. Thanks.”

  Smiling, he dropped his hand to the top of her head. “I thought so.”

  “Sometimes it’s a little hard to talk to Aunt Olympia, you know. She’s so opinionated.”

  “Missy is strong in many things, including her beliefs.”

  He hesitated, closing his eyes, and Annie saw his lips move. Caleb had always been given to moments of spontaneous prayer, sometimes audible, sometimes not, and she suspected he was praying now … for her. But though she strained to listen, she couldn’t understand a word he said.

  After a moment, he opened his eyes, looked down at her, and smiled. “You’ll be fine, Annie.”

  She watched him shuffle away, his slippers slapping the polished wooden floors, and wondered what he meant.

  “That’s the problem with older people these days,” she told Tallulah, who had lifted her head at Caleb’s departure. She grinned as she picked up her book. “Sometimes they speak a language I just can’t comprehend.”

  Seated at her dressing table, Olympia pulled the last hairpin from her bun, then ran her fingers through the hank of her hair, setting the strands free. Birdie and Bea and Vernie had taken to wearing their hair short, but she never could stand the thought of having hair as short as a man’s.