16Chapter 5: Compromises and Contracts
Dinner was a festive affair. Carolyn and the Sizemores drank wine and Martha ordered a draft beer. The children chose the Schooner Bay version of Shirley Temples, though Norrie's called them Mermaid Splashes, they were creamy, aqua in color with bubble tea boba in the bottom, and pink and purple sugar sprinkled on top. They cost as much as the adult drinks, but Carolyn put that out of her head. Whatever the meal cost, it was worth it.
Everyone got along swimmingly, and Carolyn learned a great deal about her housekeeper that had somehow never come up during the 3 years that Martha had worked for the Muir family. Everyone chattered and laughed. Even when the children had no idea why the adults were laughing, they laughed just for the joy of being part of the fun.
"I was such a ham back then. I don't know why my mother let me get away with it," Martha said shaking her head. "I mean it was one thing to play the piano for the school chorale or Sunday school, but once she let me sing a song I wrote myself and I heard the applause, there was no turning back."
"Do you think I'll write my own songs one day?" Candy asked. She'd been receiving piano lessons from Martha before her father died.
"Candy Muir, I have no doubt that you can and will do anything you set your mind to." Martha smiled at her fondly. "You're going to have your hands full Mrs. Muir. I see way too much of myself in this one."
"I don't want to write songs, I want to build things, like Daddy," Jonathan said, dipping a french fry into ketchup and stacking it up on another like a Lincoln log.
"Well now, that's good to know," Ed said to the boy. "I have a handful of projects I could use a helper with."
Carolyn was grateful for how warmly the other three adults had taken to her children. They seemed to truly enjoy their company and chatter.
The evening came to an end when Jonathan's head began to nod and Candy had slipped her shoes off beneath the table.
"Well I know I, for one, won't be sleeping at the cottage, my room isn't near ready," Martha announced with a sigh. "And these two almost need to be carried to the car."
"No, I'm afraid the cottage isn't as far along as I'd hoped," Carolyn admitted.
"I'm afraid we're all booked up at our place," Laura apologized.
"Martha can sleep with Mom," Candy suggested. "Or she can have my cot," she offered generously.
There were two full beds in the room. Martha could have one and Carolyn could sleep with Jonathan.
"We have the room if you don't mind the company," Carolyn said.
"I think we're all so tired we'll be asleep before we know what hit us." Martha was a team player.
Indeed, Ed carried Jonathan upstairs and he barely opened his eyes, even when his mother took his day clothes off. Candy's eyes were drooping while she brushed her teeth, and Martha declared that the next morning was soon enough for a shower.
Carolyn had been looking forward to having Martha see how much they enjoyed the prayer cube, but they would save it for tomorrow night. She did say a prayer, silently, after she got into bed next to her little boy. A prayer of thanks.
XXX
Carolyn was nervous about Martha meeting Claymore Gregg. She didn't suffer fools lightly and was unlikely to be impressed or amused by Claymore's declarations and pontifications. It wasn't imperative that the two of them meet. Carolyn could forward any of Martha's concerns and requests to Claymore, but Schooner Bay was a small town and Claymore Gregg considered himself a big operator.
They began the morning in Topside, to scope out the shops and services. Martha was happy to see there was an orthopedic shoe store, she feared she would need one after spending time on her feet on the stone kitchen floor.
There was a pet shop and vet for Scruffy, and all the familiar supermarkets, department stores, and clothing venues.
"I guess it's kind of nice this way," Martha allowed. "We won't have to worry about traffic when we run into town to pick up a few things, and it's an easy drive here."
Carolyn's heart leaped when she heard Martha speak as if the move was already a done deal.
"Look, Mom, Tae Kwon Do!" Candy pointed out. Her grandmother had had the children signed up for martial arts back in Philadelphia.
"And look, there's a Sally's Beauty Supply. We've got all the bases covered," Martha declared.
Carolyn had considered that while it was nice that Schooner Bay was quiet and backwater when she was on vacation, it might turn out to be less charming when she moved there with two children who were used to the amenities of city life.
It would be an adjustment, no doubt, but she felt it would be a worthwhile one. The morning was flying by and she was feeling more confident about relocating but realized that she and Martha had not discussed the woman's salary.
The cost of living would be lower in Schooner Bay, but even with provided housing, Martha still needed to earn a decent wage for her work. That was another cost that needed to be negotiated and another debt in an ever-growing column.
Carolyn wouldn't mind it so much if there was money coming in, but there wasn't. She knew she could write, but there was no guarantee that she could sell her writing. One article of local interest was a thin thread to knit a career with.
"Mrs. Muir, I'm very busy, VERY busy!" Claymore Gregg said, raising a hand to shoo her away while barely looking up from his old-fashioned adding machine.
"You were in such a hurry yesterday to have me sign a contract," she reminded him.
"Contract?" He stood straight up, a hopeful smile stretching across his face. "Is that why you're here?" It was at that point that he noticed Martha. She was an imposing figure with a stocky build, a stern face and a stance that screamed "just try me".
"And this charming beauty must be Martha, your housekeeper." Claymore moved from behind his desk and offered a hand. "Welcome to Schooner Bay. I've heard wonderful things about you."
She stared dubiously at the offered hand, so dubiously that Claymore pulled a large cloth hanky from his pocket, wiped his hand, and offered it again. Martha took it, gave it one firm shake then dropped it again.
His eyes shot over to Carolyn as if he was seeking advice on how to proceed.
"Well, if you're really too busy. We had several things we wanted to discuss…" Carolyn glanced towards the door.
"Not too busy for you. If you'll just give me a moment." He scurried behind the desk. "I'm going to forward my calls to voicemail and we can talk brass– we can talk about any needless concerns you might have." He recalled that Carolyn was not fond of brass tacks.
After poking at his phone, he went across the room and moved a box of files from a chair that he then pushed facing his desk so Martha would have a place to sit. "Madame," he offered with a gallant wave of his hand.
She gave the chair a withering look, tested its stability by giving the back a firm shake, and finally consented to sit.
Carolyn took the other chair without any hesitation.
Claymore shoved the adding machine out of the way, pulled a file from his drawer, and folded his hands on top of it. "Mrs. Muir, Ms?" He cocked his head at Martha.
"Grant," she told him curtly.
"How did you ladies find the Cottage? I hope that Mr. Sizemore put to rest any lingering concerns." His tone was confident but his smile was tentative.
"Yes, actually. Ed said that the work is up to code and the house is safe for the children."
"I assure you, Mrs. Muir." Claymore put his hand over his heart. "The work is being very closely scrutinized. This is the start of a new era for Gull Cottage and–"
"The smaller bedroom upstairs," Martha interrupted him. "That will be my room and seeing that you haven't begun to work on it I have some requests."
"Oh, Mrs. Grant, while the physical labor hasn't yet begun, we already have a comprehensive plan, and budget, in place. I'm not sure we could accommodate–"
Martha began to rise, causing Claymore to rise, but also to backpedal. "Of course, I'd love to hear your ideas which may be far superior to–"
Martha sat back down and continued with her ideas. "I'd like a vanity sink in the room. It backs up to the bathroom so running the piping shouldn't be a problem. And I'd like the wiring to be able to handle a small refrigerator and microwave."
"You're asking for a kitchen."
"A kitchenette," she corrected. "And the house needs a second, modern bathroom. The Butler's pantry in the back should work very well."
"A second bathroom? I'm afraid that's out of the question. Out of the budget. Far, far out of the budget." He waved a hand in the air to emphasize just how far out that idea was.
"That's not negotiable," Martha told him. "You may as well put it in now because even if we don't rent the cottage, no one else will either with the bathroom situation as it is now."
Carolyn was impressed and grateful for Martha's deft handling of Claymore Gregg.
Claymore looked at Martha with shock and apprehension. Mrs. Muir wasn't a push over but she was more malleable than Martha Grant.
His adam's apple protested a few times before he spoke. "Mrs. Muir, Ms. Grant, I'm more than happy to take any concerns into account, but a kitchenette and second bathroom…you're talking thousands of dollars of work. It's almost like starting the project all over again," he pleaded.
"Ed Sizemore thought it would be doable. I understand that it will cost more but you can hardly expect the four of us, with two young children to get by with that one old bathroom." Mrs. Muir took up for their side.
"I"m not suggesting that your ideas aren't good ones, but it's taken all I have to get us this far along, and you haven't yet agreed to a contract," he reminded her.
"I'll pay you eight months up front, along with first and last month's rent. That should give you enough to work with to do what we ask for," Carolyn said suddenly.
"And that terrible excuse for a garage has to be torn down before we move in," Martha added. "And in the contract, you have to promise us a new garage before a year is out."
"And you'll sign a one-year lease?" He glanced back and forth between the women.
They exchanged a glance.
"I'd like to spend the night in the house," Carolyn said stiffly. "You can rewrite the contract, and… in the morning if the contract contains everything we discussed, we have a deal."
She felt thrilled and terrified as she spoke. The hairs were standing up on the back of her neck and her arms. She wanted all of this to work out, but it was a big commitment. If she signed a one-year contract, there was no going back.
Claymore flipped through the contract jotting notes and checking numbers. This wasn't the first time a second bathroom had been discussed, it had come up with the contractor, so he had an idea of how much it would cost. The kitchenette he had less of an idea about, but the wiring had been brought up to modern standards, and a mini fridge and small microwave wouldn't require a separate circuit, and, if after a year Mrs. Muir decided to move on, a kitchenette would be popular with renters, and the second bathroom a must.
"Ladies, I believe we have ourselves a deal." Claymore stood up and offered his hand to Mrs. Muir, who shook it and then wiped it on his shirt front before offering it to Martha, who shook it with a grip that put the fear of God into him.
Carolyn felt shaky as they walked outside. "I hope I did the right thing." She sighed and looked to Martha.
"That's a lot of money upfront, but it will make the cottage much more liveable. Make sure that the contract has stipulations for what happens if the work isn't finished on time."
"I think I need a lawyer," Carolyn said decidedly. Luckily, the lawyer's office was just a few doors down and she was seated at her desk having coffee and a danish.
Adrian Dooley, attorney at law, waved the women in and poured them mugs of coffee as they explained why they were there.
"I'd be happy to work with you. Claymore and I are old sparring partners. Sometimes I work for him, sometimes…for the other side. Usually, a quick brush-up on what his legal obligations are keeps him in line. He has no desire to be sued, and less desire still to go to jail," the woman said with a bright smile.
She quoted Carolyn a very reasonable amount to handle the rental contract and any issues associated with it for the original term of one year.
"I feel better knowing I have the law on my side. It's not that I don't trust Claymore exactly," Carolyn said, handing over her credit card. "It's just that this last year has been one change after another, and having an experienced set of eyes looking the contract over will give me so much peace of mind."
While she and Martha finished their coffee Adrian called Claymore and put him on notice. "Yes, that's right, bring the contract here after you've drafted it and I'll make sure everything is as it should be."
They could hear Claymore's voice over the phone, but not what he was saying. Carolyn guessed it was just as well. If he was protesting, she would rather not know about it. She wondered what the Captain would think of all this. Would he think she was making too much of it to have hired a lawyer, or would he think it showed good sense on her part? She did wish that he would show himself.
Now that Martha was here, and the kids were enthusiastic about the house and town, Carolyn felt that they could be happy at Gull Cottage with or without the Captain. But in her heart, she knew she would much rather that it was with than without.
The remainder of the day was taken up with driving the children around town. Jonathan picked out two postcards to send to his Grandma Marjorie and his Grandma and Grandpa Williams. He and Candy wrote them out and went to the Post Office to mail them. Then they stopped at the hardware store and picked out a chew toy as a souvenir for Scruffy.
Candy asked her mother if she would get Maree Carter's address so that she could send a postcard to her when they got back to Philadelphia.
Jonathan wanted to work on his sand fort and send photos to Grandpa and Uncle Castle.
As Sunset neared the beach grew cold and windy. They hurried up to the Cottage to use the bathroom before heading back into town for dinner. The women and Candy were admiring the woodwork and knick-knacks in the sitting room when Jonathan came bounding down the stairs.
"I like him," Martha was saying, looking at the painting of Captain Daniel Gregg. "He looks like he doesn't suffer fools. A man who knows his mind."
"He doesn't like all the builders in the house," Jonathan said. "But he says it will be ok as long as they leave it in ship shape and Bristol Fashion."
Martha chuckled. "He's not even moved in yet and he's talking like an old salt."
But Carolyn was curious as to where the boy had heard that language. Ed didn't speak that way, and Jonathan had had very little contact with the workmen.
"Don't listen to him, you know he is always talking to imaginary people," Candy said with a heavy sigh.
"He's not imaginary," Jonathan corrected her. "He's dead, but he's real."
"He is real," Carolyn agreed. "I wrote an article about him. This used to be his house, and I think that Jonathan is right. The Captain would want it ship-shape, though I'm not sure exactly what Bristol Fashion is."
"Captain, if we live here, you can count on us to take good care of the place," Candy said to the painting, playing along. " Martha is pretty serious about her housekeeping."
"My father was in the Navy when he was young, and he made sure all his children knew how to swab a deck and polish brass well enough to pass inspection," she explained.
Carolyn smiled. There were so many things she was learning about her friend and housekeeper these last few days.
"Mom, can we stay overnight at Gull Cottage?" Candy asked.
"Well, yes, I was planning to, you and Jonathan can stay with me and Martha can enjoy a night to herself at Laura and Ed's."
"But I want to stay with Martha," Jonathan said. "I wanna read the Blueberry book with her."
"I think that sounds wonderful." Martha accepted the hand the little boy offered. "We can make some popcorn, and have a nice evening together."
"I want popcorn!" Candy decided.
"Oh Martha, I don't want to leave you with both of them." Carolyn protested. It was supposed to be a vacation of sorts for Martha as well.
"It will be fun," Martha declared, "And I'll bet you won't mind a bed to yourself, and a night off."
Carolyn nodded. She wanted a night alone at the Cottage, but she hadn't dared to ask.
Carolyn helped them get settled, including pointing out the prayer cube. Martha's smile showed her pleasure that they were making use of her thoughtful gift.
Carolyn tried to pay attention to the children's excited chatter about their night with Martha, but her mind was only partially present. The greater part of it was at Gull Cottage, hoping that her night there would settle her mind and spirit, and hoping the Captain would show.
At last, the children were settled, wearing their pajamas. The popcorn was popped, and a movie was in the DVD player, chosen from the B&B's collection of family-friendly films.
"Call if you need anything," Carolyn entreated Martha. "You're such a dear to take them for the whole night."
"Oh, we'll have lots of fun. The hardest part will be carrying Jonathan up to bed, he's already half nodding off."
Carolyn kissed Martha on the cheek. "Have Ed carry him up, save your back," she encouraged, checking that she had her purse and a few items in an overnight bag. She'd made things easier for herself by removing her makeup and brushing her teeth at the B&B. She had her nightgown, a towel, and slippers, but not much else.
Driving up the hill on the sad excuse for a road in the dark had her questioning her sanity. Her headlamps left shadows in the potholes but didn't shed enough light for her to distinguish which holes were deeper than others. She was making her way slowly on a wish and a prayer.
She was weak with relief when she finally pulled into the side drive, which had a fresh load of gravel leveled on it. The wheels of her SUV crunched and slid on the layer of rock, which hadn't had time to get tamped down yet.
She had to laugh at herself for all those times she'd poked fun at so-called ghost hunters in movies and on television, wondering what sane person would voluntarily spend the night in a dark, cobwebby, run-down building in a deserted location.
Gull Cottage's cobwebs were gone, but here she was hoping to see her ghost. The wind was bitter and she thought she felt ice crystals in it. They had been remarkably lucky with the weather this week considering that it was the last week of March and they were in Maine.
Carolyn unlocked the front door. The light was on in the foyer but the house was quiet except for the wind rattling the windows and whistling where the wind forced its way between boards and around eaves.
She shivered as she hung her coat on the coat tree beside the door, and slipped her boots off. She left them on the paint-stained canvas runner the workmen had laid out. The floor was cold on her thinly stockinged feet so she pulled out her slippers and stepped into them.
"Of course it's cold. What was I thinking?" She spoke as she made her way to the kitchen. She put on water for tea and went upstairs to her room. Her heart fell when she saw that the windows were all shut tight. The Captain had always been careful to leave one open for fresh air.
Carolyn found bedding in the window seat, and she turned on the gas heater to start warming the room while she made up the bed. She startled when she heard the whistle of the teapot downstairs. By the time she returned with her herbal tea, the room was noticeably warmer, but the windows were still shut tight.
Claymore Gregg had had smoke alarms and carbon monoxide sensors installed. There was no danger of Carolyn Muir dying in her sleep the way that the builder of Gull Cottage had over a century and a half ago.
She sipped her tea and perused the room with its books and treasures from the Captain's travels at sea. Most of the furniture was still covered against the dust of renovations, and a good thing too. The dust on the shelves was thick and white with plaster. It hadn't been that way when she had stayed some six months ago. The room had been old and a bit dingy, but it had also been spotless.
She knew now that had been the work of the ghost of Captain Gregg, who used the room as his own and preferred it to be shined, polished, and in perfect order. The fact that it was not worried her. It looked as though the Captain had abandoned ship. She wondered if he had left voluntarily or if Claymore had succeeded in somehow forcing him out.
Claymore might have found a medium with the right set of chants and rituals to oust a ghost from his long-held roost. Or perhaps the Captain had simply tired of the game of tormenting his great-grand nephew and anyone else who tried to take up residence. Maybe he'd decided to go to the light or to go with whichever of his antique possessions Claymore had sold to get the cash to begin renovations.
Looking around the room, Carolyn didn't notice anything missing. The same Chinese cloisonne vase sat on the top shelf. She would have thought an item as old and decorative as that would have fetched a tidy sum. The carved whale tooth scrimshaw was on the mantle. Other knick knacks looked familiar, and there were no gaps to indicate books were missing; the shelves were full, end to end.
She would have liked a fire, and there was wood, but she didn't guess it was worth the bother. It would have been lovely to sit before the flames and reminisce with the Captain, but it was less lovely on her own.
Once again she ran her finger across the keys of the quaint old typewriter that she had begun her story on. A story that had been sitting unfinished for far too long. She had hoped returning to the cottage would grease the wheels of her imagination. But the inspiration for the story had been the Captain, who fleshed out her ideas with details and stories from his real-life experience.
On her own, she would never have written a story about tall ships, mutiny, dog days, and the like. She had a good imagination, but it ran more towards characterization than historical research. She'd enjoyed researching her story about the Captain and his untimely death, but she'd felt that personal connection, and now she did not.
"Well, no use feeling sorry for myself. This is a lovely house, in a lovely town, full of lovely people. If my biggest problem is that I'm NOT hearing things go bump in the night, I guess life is pretty darn good!" She attempted to set herself straight.
She really was happy. Martha and the children liked Schooner Bay. She was going to be paying Claymore a big chunk of change, but it would result in Gull Cottage being a safe and comfortable home for them. Laura and Ed had already proven themselves to be the kind of friends she could count on.
She sat on the edge of the bed and began to ball her eyes out. It wasn't that she was sad, or even disappointed. It was that she was moving on without Robert. She was moving to a town they'd never even visited together. She was, as she had discussed with Pastor Ruth, moving off in her own direction, a direction that she would never have taken if Robert was still alive.
She hadn't cried over him for a while. She'd been too busy planning and being positive. She'd been too busy thinking of the kids and showing gratitude to her parents for their generosity and kindness. She'd been too busy being aggravated by Ben Loudermilk and other men, both the ones that did and did not pay her any attention.
Pastor Ruth had reassured her that grief took many forms and operated on its own timetable. Sometimes it was when things took a turn for the better that guilt, uncertainty, and sadness felt the most overwhelming. In the early days, Carolyn had felt sorry for Robert and all he would miss— the children's graduations, and weddings, watching their grandchildren grow up and advancing in his career.
She'd been grateful for other things that he would miss– like seeing his mother decline, watching Carolyn grow old, and the disappointments that are part of any life. She wasn't certain just what she was feeling now. Sometimes she still missed Robert with an ache. Other times she was able to admit that there were things she wanted for herself and the children that he likely wouldn't have gone along with.
They had been very compatible, but they had never been two people of the same mind. Much of their relationship had consisted of reaching a compromise or setting aside personal dreams to set new goals together. Now she felt some of her dreams springing back to life and it felt disloyal, but delicious all at the same time.
Robert would never have even entertained listening to her tell him she thought she'd spoken to a ghost. He would have laughed or made a remark that would have stopped her in her tracks. When he was uncomfortable with something or thought it foolish, he simply refused to have anything to do with it at all.
There had been times when Candy had come to him with some childish upset and tried to explain it to him, tried to get comfort and he had ignored her, talking over her, or starting to talk about something else entirely until she had given up.
That was the way he had been raised, but it had made Carolyn's blood boil. People and their experiences deserved respect. Especially those of children. Robert had thought if you ignored things you didn't want in your life, they would wither from atrophy and cease to be a bother.
He had enjoyed Carolyn's journalism articles, but he'd had less interest in her essays and no interest at all in her fiction. "What's the point, Caro? It's just make-believe."
She recalled something she'd once heard one of Robert's colleagues quote. "Everything humankind has ever done or created began first as an idea."
But Robert only valued ideas that could be transformed into concrete reality, that could be pressed into service. He hadn't much patience for movies unless they were history or documentaries. Even the books he'd read to the children needed to teach a moral or skill, no silliness or nonsense on his watch.
Carolyn had found it exhilarating and challenging…for the most part. She also found it short-sighted and a bit stifling, but she had had plenty of free time, especially once the children had grown past toddlerhood. She was able to indulge her interests and hobbies and have time left over to help Robert enjoy his.
Not that Robert had had much in the way of free time. He hadn't even promised her that one day it would be different. He enjoyed his work, she wasn't sure he wanted it to be different. Because he was disciplined and valued the manner in which he had been raised, he managed to be home for dinner more often than not. But evenings were often spent bent over his drawing board, talking shop on video calls with colleagues and entertaining clients.
The day after his funeral, after shaking 100 hands, accepting 100 offers of sympathy, and opening 100 cards from clients, associates and competitors, Carolyn had sat back and thought "I've thrown my last party for Robert's associates." It had come with a huge sense of relief.
She recalled Robert voicing his concern to her not long before his accident. "Martha lays out a great table, and her cooking is top-notch, but do you think maybe we could find someone a little easier on the eyes? You know, for when we're entertaining my associates."
As if filling their stomachs with drink and food, laughing at their jokes, and feigning interest in whatever they were interested in, wasn't enough. Apparently, they owed colleagues and clients a bit of eye candy and titillation.
Carolyn had put her foot down. "Martha works for me and the children. I'm the hostess, if I'm not attractive enough–"
He had stopped her right there. "Caro, every god damned man who sees you envies me. You're everything they wish they could come home to and you're the most charming hostess in the greater Pittsburg area. But that's why I need you in the living room and at the table, not serving and clearing dishes."
"Robert, trust me their wives appreciate that we have Martha serving. And when the wives are happy, the men are allowed to come over for dinner. Martha is fun. Everyone enjoys her jokes and wit. I'm not paying someone with no experience who's all eyes and tits too–"
He'd backed down. Maybe he guessed that there was more to it than sticking up for Martha and saving money. Carolyn wasn't keen on bringing a shapely co-ed into the home. Maybe she was old-fashioned. Maybe she was paranoid, or maybe she was practicing plain old common sense, but the last thing any marriage needed was a paid flirt thrown into the mix.
Robert knew as much, seeing as one of his colleagues had lost his wife, house, car, and a good bit of his income after being caught tipping the hired help too generously and too personally.
Carolyn had smarted when her mother had commented that Martha was just the sort of dependable housekeeper one wanted, who got the job done but wasn't a distraction. She had bristled at her mother's words, but deep down she agreed. Not that she had hired Martha because of her looks, she'd hired her because she was experienced, competent, and good for the children.
The wanderings of her mind brought on a new freshet of tears. Why was the whole stupid world complicated? Why couldn't things be easy and simple and safe?
Eventually, she was cried out. She finished her tea, blew her nose, and got into bed. Her head ached but her mind was exhausted and she quickly fell into a fitful sleep.
She dreamed about the beach and the children. They were competing to see who could build the bigger castle (though Jonathan insisted on calling his a fort). Every time she looked from one to the other they had grown exponentially. They grew from knee-high to the size of a doghouse, then to the size of a playhouse, then the size of a bungalow, and finally to the size of real castles. Candy was calling for her to come inside, but Carolyn was trying to coax her daughter to come out, fearing the sand would collapse and bury her.
Jonathan assured her that his fort was safe, but then she kept seeing him falling from the upper castle wall, falling over and over again, falling the way Robert had; falling and hitting the beach in a broken heap.
She sat up gasping. Thank goodness, it was only a dream. She shivered. The window was open. The window that she knew for a fact had NOT been open before she fell asleep. The window the Captain could not bear to leave closed.
"Captain?" Her voice sounded tentative and strangled. "Captain Gregg?"
All she heard was the wind. She wondered if she should close the window. She was warm enough under the blankets, and the fresh air was nice, even if it had the smell of snow in it.
She lay back down and it seemed the house sighed and settled around her as if to reassure her that it had only been a dream and it was time for rest.
She recited one of the prayers from the prayer cube and gathered the blanket around her shoulders again. This time she slept more soundly as if the waves were rocking her to sleep.
Tip. Tap. Tap tap tip. Ding!
Carolyn's eyes fluttered then closed again.
Tap. Tap. Tip tip tap tap tip tip tip tap tap…ding!
Who could be typing at this hour? Her mind vaguely interpreted the noise and the fact that it was out of place in the dark.
"'It's bedtime," she said with a yawn and turned over snuggling into her pillow.
"Tap, tippity, tap tappety, tip, tip…"
Whoever it was needed to brush up on their typing skills. This was hunt and peck and not a very quick one at that.
Ding! She recalled the Captain had referred to it as that "infernal bell".
She smiled and words began to drift across her mind…waves…gulls…warm flannel…cozy…
Tap, tip tap tap tap tippity tippity Ding!
Carolyn pushed up on her elbows and peered through the darkness towards the desk where the typewriter was. No shadow, no form, nothing.
"Are you done?" she asked the darkness.
Silence except for the whistle of the wind.
She lay back down and was nearly asleep when the tapping began again. This time painfully slow so much so that it was somehow more aggravating than the earlier hunt and pecking. This was annoying, like a dripping faucet. The taps came two or three seconds apart, and it took agonizingly long for the carriage to reach the end and ding. The slow return of the carriage was a drawn-out click…click…click…
She got to her feet, didn't bother with her slippers, and went straight to the desk. The typewriter stood innocently still and she noticed there was no paper in it. If someone was trying to give her a message, they were going about it the wrong way.
She looked around the desk, but the stack of paper that had once been there was gone; she had taken it home to Philadelphia, half souvenir, half inspiration.
She checked her purse, but there was not so much as an old envelope or receipt. Shivering she made her way down the stairs, as she did so a nightlight came on in the foyer, and she was glad to have it.
A few minutes peering around and she settled on peeling a label off a can of paint. She carried it upstairs and loaded it into the typewriter, with the white side facing out. "Maybe that will help," she said to the room.
She almost convinced herself that she heard a chuckle but decided not to dwell on it. She doubted she'd be able to fall back asleep now. She was cold, she had to pee, and her mind was far from easy.
She made her way into the bathroom, where another night light came on, and decided not to pull the chain until morning. Jonathan did not need to fear the loud flush of the toilet, but she knew the sound of rushing water would only stimulate her mind further.
Back in bed she fluffed her pillow, settled down, and began to sing softly to herself, "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."
When she and Castle were young children their mother had taught them to sing that song when they had trouble falling asleep. Sing and imagine the pretty moonlight on the water, the silvery fishes down below, the gentle rocking, and Carolyn remembered many nights when she was laying in the dark singing and the next moment waking up to the Sun.
And so it was. There had been no more disturbances, no more upsetting dreams. She woke up to a hushed silence and the whoosh and fizzle of waves from below.
The room seemed remarkably bright. Carolyn rose and went to the window; there was snow on the ground, the trees, the ivy, and the low stone wall. Everything looked beautifully frosted and transformed.
"Today the kids can build igloos instead of sand cast…forts," she said aloud running a hand through her hair. She looked through the telescope towards the sea. There was a white cap of snow on the cliff top and rocks and the ocean water appeared ominously dark, but the sea was calm and the wind had stopped. The gulls paid no attention to the snow and were behaving as ever, half in a crowd on the beach and half flying in a disorganized cloud above it.
Carolyn's eyes smarted a bit from her crying the night before, but inside her mind and soul felt lighter, as if she'd needed to get the sadness out of her system. The snow wasn't deep, she guessed she'd be able to drive down the hill to town easily enough. She doubted any other vehicles had packed it down to ice.
She shut the window and turned off the gas heater. She quickly finished washing her face and brushing her hair and was returning her few items to the grocery bag when she noticed the flash of white in the typewriter.
"That was silly of me. Having a good imagination is a nice thing; indulging it in the middle of the night is inviting trouble," she chastised herself. Likely some workman wouldn't be happy to find his paint label missing. She went to the desk to retrieve it and stopped short.
The back of the label was blank no longer. There was one short typewritten line. She reached out and yanked the paper free. She went cold, then grew uncomfortably warm when she read the words.
"Welcome home Mrs. Muir."
Tears sprang again to her eyes, but unlike those of the night before, these were happy tears. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to catch a shadow, but none was there. Her eye caught a flutter near the window, where the fresh crisp breeze cut a path through the room's warm air.
She clutched the paper to her chest and smiled. "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…sometimes dreams come true!"
XXX
The children were uncharacteristically talkative on the long ride home. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other as to who liked Schooner Bay better and why. They replayed all their happy moments, and all the things they looked forward to come Summer and moving day.
Carolyn couldn't have hoped for a better outcome as far as the children went. They had especially liked playing in the snow and warming up afterward with Laura's special hot cocoa with a dash of cinnamon and a secret ingredient, which Carolyn knew was almond flavor.
It had made it seem very grown up. Laura had used her cappuccino machine to steam the milk making it frothy and extra special. They had begged Martha to get the recipe, apparently thinking that anything that delightful must be beyond their mother's cooking ability.
Carolyn had felt more in control after meeting with the lawyer and going over the contract line by line with her and Claymore. She'd enjoyed a warm flush of accomplishment as she signed the contract. She expected she'd feel a warm flush of another kind while signing the check for what amounted to ten months' rent, but that was an excitement for another day.
Martha was going to get her kitchenette, they were going to get a second full bath, and Carolyn felt like she had not only the lawyer on her side, but a set of supernatural eyes at the cottage making sure that things were being done ships shape and Bristol Fashion.
She had guiltily left half a torn label on top of a paint can and tucked the half with the message into her purse, where it felt like a promise and the sign she'd been hoping for.
On their last evening in Schooner Bay, after the children had been put to bed the adults planned to play cards. Soon the cards were forgotten as they found themselves sharing memories of childhood, first loves, and first jobs.
Carolyn hadn't realized that Martha had ties to the ocean in as far-flung places as Washington state, Florida, and New England.
Ed had borrowed his grandparent's van and camped his way up and down the California coast during his early 20's, before beginning a hike on the Appalachian trail that got derailed by a snake bite.
Laura had married young to her high school sweetheart, divorced shortly after, married a second time, and been widowed. She'd returned to Schooner Bay after her husband passed.
Carolyn felt her life had been rather prosaic and uneventful. She did all the expected things for an upper middle-class young woman. She'd been active in high school, attended college, married well when she was in her mid 20's, and had two bright happy children. Everything was idyllic until Robert's passing.
"I suppose this is my adventure," she'd told her friends that evening. It seemed a bit bland that her adventure hadn't been of her own making so much as thrust upon her by life. Just went to show that even doing everything by the book came with no guarantees for an easy life.
The children did eventually quiet down but grew excited and chatty when they pulled up at their grandparent's house and were welcomed home with hugs, questions, and Grandpa promising that he had a wonderful surprise for them.
"We have a surprise for you too!" Candy declared. "We're moving to Schooner Bay. I already made a bunch of friends and Martha likes it too. The beach is right down the cliff and the waves get real big sometimes."
"Yeah and I built a fort and BunBun helped, and Ed taught Candy and me how to fish with a net," Jonathan broke in.
"Moving? Why darlings, how can you be? Your mother wouldn't make such a big decision without taking time to think it over." Carolyn's mother cast her a worried glance.
"You'll have to come and visit us, the house is pretty big, and there are lions out front," Candy went on, handing her coat to her grandfather to hang up.
"It sounds like Schooner Bay is a fun place to visit, but–" Emily tried again.
"It sure is, did you get my postcard?" Jonathan asked.
"It's been a long day, and I'm sure I smell dinner cooking. You two go wash your hands and you can tell Grandma and Grandpa all about it while we eat," Carolyn said. "I'm just going to go out to the car and grab our suitcases. I'm afraid we have quite a lot of laundry between the three of us."
Carolyn's father was already putting on a jacket so he could help with the luggage.
"Thanks, Dad, I'm pretty beat," she admitted with a smile as they unloaded the SUV.
"That surprise I mentioned..." He rubbed at his chin. "We had a jungle gym put up in the back for the kids. Pirate ship, swing, slide, ropes. You know your mother has been window shopping them for months."
"Oh Dad, you didn't! I mean, it's lovely and generous, but you knew I was thinking of moving." Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.
"I know, and I told her, but she's worse than Scruffy with a bone when she gets an idea." He sounded sorry.
"Well, I signed a contract and we are moving to Schooner Bay, so the kids can enjoy it until then, and when we visit, and of course Castle's little Henry will love it," Carolyn said sensibly, blinking away the tears and grabbing a suitcase.
"Your mother was hoping–" he began to explain.
"I know. And I don't know why she can't accept, won't accept, that we need a place of our own." Carolyn followed him to the house.
"She knows, but she was hoping it would be someplace close. She's been scouting every for sale sign in a two-mile radius." He held the storm door for her.
They deposited the suitcases and went back for more.
"The kids visited the school there and they loved it, and the beach is nearly across the street," Carolyn went on, trying to build a case for leaving.
"Carolyn, you don't have to convince me. Of course, I'd love it if you and the kids stay close by, but young people need to move on and live their own lives."
She smiled at his use of the word "young". Being widowed and in her 30s she hardly felt young, though she knew that she had not yet reached middle age.
"Can't you talk to her?" she said hopefully.
He grabbed the kid's backpacks and closed the door of the vehicle.
"Her old argument was that I wasn't supposed to make any big decisions during the first year after Robert's death. But it's been over a year now." Carolyn went on.
"It's nothing to do with your decision-making. It's her own heart she's worried about. I think–" he stopped talking.
Carolyn stopped and faced him. "What?"
"I think that she imagines what it would have been like, what she would have felt if she had lost me when you and Castle were small. It preys on her mind. I remind her that you aren't her, and that you had the right kind of family support. You know she never got on well with her folks. She wouldn't have dreamt of turning to them," he explained.
"I'm beyond grateful to both of you," Carolyn said.
"She knows that– you've never acted entitled. That's not it honey. And don't let it change your plans. She'll be fine. You know she's always been such a great planner and organizer. It kills her when she comes across a situation she can't best." He smiled with admiration.
Carolyn nodded. "I hate to hurt her feelings."
"You're not. You're just taking care of yourself and the kids. She has to come to terms with the situation sooner or later, and there's no point in you being held back waiting for her to catch up."
Once inside they found Emily Williams already emptying clothing from the kids' bags into a laundry basket, ever efficient. "I thought I'd get a load in before we sit down," she said with a bright smile.
Carolyn hated that she was going to be saying and doing things that would wipe that smile right off her mom's face.
The children were glad to sit down to a meal of Grandma's familiar cooking though they barely ate; they were so busy describing the wonders of Gull Cottage, the beach, and their new friends, old and young, in Schooner Bay. They didn't seem to remember hearing anything about their grandparents having a surprise for them.
They were thrilled to each have a new bedtime storybook that they had picked out at the thrift store in Schooner Bay. Candy's was about the tooth fairy and Jonathan's was about a tiger who wanted to be a sea captain.
Carolyn was soaking in the tub while her parents put the kids to bed. She had missed this. Her lemon and green tea bath salts, a soak in a tub (it had been far too cold at the cottage), and the sense of safety and security that made a soak restful.
When she emerged with a towel around her hair her mother came to her smiling. "Wait till you see–"
"Dad told me. The children will love it." She hugged her mom.
"Do you have to go?" Her mother searched her eyes.
Carolyn nodded. She didn't want to try speaking. She was afraid she'd stumble or find herself explaining and apologizing, and she didn't want to do that. This wasn't a mistake she was making. This wasn't something she needed her mother's approval for.
"I'm beat," Carolyn explained.
Her mother nodded and bit her bottom lip as she watched her daughter disappear into her room and close the door.
XXX
The children argued during breakfast. They were still on Spring Break until school started on Monday morning, and they felt they shouldn't have to go to church, not when there was an amazing brand new play structure in the backyard.
"It will be here when we get home from church." Their mother pointed out. "And if you'd like, you can each invite one friend to come over and play."
"But church takes so loooong. And it's Palm Sunday, so service is extra long." Candy made her face droopy as if she was aging from the mere thought of it. " And there's Sunday school, then coffee hour."
"It was a lovely surprise Grandpa and Grandma have given you. Are you going to show appreciation by behaving nicely, or behaving ungratefully?" Carolyn asked her daughter.
"I AM grateful, that's why I want to play on it, to show how much I like it," she argued.
Jonathan thoughtfully shoveled his pancakes into his mouth. His class had playground time during Sunday school, and the play structure would be there all day every day. Of course, he'd rather stay home and explore the new facility, but it wasn't worth getting his mother angry over.
If Candy didn't slow her roll, he guessed she'd end up getting grounded from playing at all.
"Candy, Grandpa and I didn't put up a playground to cause disobedience," Emily warned her granddaughter.
"Yes ma'am," Candy said meekly, but she scowled furiously at her breakfast.
"Well, I guess the good news is that most of our things are already packed up." Carolyn returned to the subject of their move. "I mean, we'll still need some boxes for the things we have here."
"We won't need all our furniture," Jonathan said. "So much of Captain Gregg's is still in the house."
"Who is Captain Gregg?" his grandmother asked.
"He's the man who owns the house, that's why his stuff is there. He never moved out."
"He's the man who built the house. His nephew Mr. Claymore Gregg owns Gull Cottage now," Carolyn corrected for her parent's benefit.
"The house is full of lots of neat old things," Candy agreed.
"Yes, but I'm going to want some of our neat old things too," Carolyn explained. "I like old-fashioned things, but not when they are uncomfortable."
"I guess they didn't need comfy couches back then, because they didn't have any tv to watch anyway," Candy reasoned. "The couch at the house is kind of pinchy and hard as a rock."
"And likely worth a small fortune," Emily guessed.
"I have to do an inventory with Claymore Gregg, about what to keep in the house and what to put into storage. There are a lot of lovely antiques that give the place character, but with two kids and a dog–"
Scruffy gave a quick yap upon hearing himself mentioned, but he stayed in place on his bed, wagging his tail and chewing on the toy they had brought for him.
"Well, I for one, can't wait to see it!" said Emilly Williams with a suspicious amount of enthusiasm.
"It's kind of a mess right now," Candy admitted. "But once all the ladders and paint cans and old junk are out of the way, it'll be neat."
"The toilet sounds like a Nor'Easter," Jonathan said with a scowl.
"A Nor'Easter! I didn't know you'd ever been in one." Grandpa was impressed.
"I haven't, but that's what the Captain said. He said I didn't need to be scared of the water closet, even though it sounds like a Nor'Easter. What is a Nor'Easter?"
"It's a big windy storm. If you've finished your pancakes, go and wash your hands. It's almost time to leave for church." Carolyn wanted to hurry things along before anyone put two and two together and realized Jonathan's Captain and the dead man were one and the same.
Carolyn wanted to believe that Jonathan had seen and spoken with the Captain. She wanted to know for certain that the Captain was still in and around Gull Cottage. But she also knew that Jonathan was given to talking to imaginary friends. Still, how could an imaginary friend tell him about something he'd never heard of?
Candy hadn't seen or heard the Captain or any other unexpected sounds or characters at Gull Cottage. Someone had typed a message to Carolyn, there was no mistaking that. How she'd wished he's have spoken to her, or even signed the message. What if he had decided he was only going to talk to her Jonathan? It was good for Jonathan to have a strong male figure around the place, but…Carolyn didn't want to admit she felt jealous.
"I guess I could use a strong male figure in my life too. There's nothing wrong with that," she muttered to herself as she loaded the dishwasher.
She looked out the kitchen window at the new playset while she washed her hands; she had sympathy for the children wanting to hurry out to enjoy it. It was an extravagant set for a home yard. It must have cost a lot of money. Carolyn pushed the thought out of her mind how that was money she could have used to fulfill her contract with Claymore. It was none of her business. It hadn't been HER money.
She swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise in the back of her throat. She hated that her mother would use a gift to the children to tempt them to want to stay and to guilt her into not moving. She wanted to believe her mother's motives were pure, but she had known they were going to Schooner Bay with a purpose beyond getting away for Spring Break.
On the way to Church, they practiced singing the hymn the children were learning in Sunday School to sing on Easter Morning. "All things wise and wonderful, all creatures great and small…."
Carolyn loved being close to family and sharing these kinds of experiences. She hoped her mother would understand that she wasn't trying to get away, but whenever you chose one thing, it required giving up something else.
The children participated in the Palm Sunday service, and Carolyn and many other adults tried to suppress their laughter when Jeremy Loudermilk dressed as Jesus, rode up the aisle on Old Mr. Carmichael's electric scooter that had been made over to look (if you had imagination) like a donkey.
The children followed it in, waving their palms and saying "Hosannah"
Carolyn, who didn't usually take photos in the church, pulled out her phone and took a photo of Jesus and his electric donkey to show Martha, and so Candy could remember her crush when he wasn't looking quite so crushworthy.
Maybe it will help her get over him, she thought to herself. Tucking her phone away after taking a shot of Candy and Jonathan in their Jerusalem citizen garb. For once the parents hadn't had to come up with costumes, the teachers had dug into the Sunday School costume closet for this one.
"It's sacrilege to laugh, but oh dear," Emily Williams said to her daughter. "Last year they had a costume where the boy walked but it looked like his bottom half was a donkey."
"Sometimes technology isn't an improvement," Carolyn noted. There were more than a few giggles and titters all around the church.
Candy had been right. The service was long, and then coffee hour was longer than usual as well. So as not to take extra time on Easter Sunday, when people had plans with family, people brought their special treats to share on Palm Sunday. There were lamb cakes, stuffed dates, matzah with haroset, Lebanese palm Sunday cookies, hot cross buns, and homemade pretzels. The children took turns riding on the donkey scooter.
Even amid the festivities Candy came and pulled on her mother's arm. "Can we go home now?" she implored.
"Why honey, have you had your turn on the scooter?"
"Twice," Candy told her.
Jonathan was sitting in a chair, looking down at the mouth, holding a pretzel in each hand, but eating neither.
"I'll see if grandma and Grandpa are done talking with their friends," Carolyn promised. "Until then, why don't you go and play?"
"I want to play at home." The girl's brows drew down into a furrow and she nearly stamped her foot.
"Candy!" Carolyn was shocked at her daughter's behavior. There had to be more going on. Carolyn looked over and Jeremy Loudermilk, (still wearing his Jesus wig but having lost the cotton ball beard) was giving another girl a ride on the scooter.
Carolyn took Candy's hand. "Let's see if we can round up the family."
At that moment, she felt she understood both her mother's intention and frustration. Mothers want to spare their daughters the pain that comes with living and loving, and it was simply not possible. Even kissing the boo-boos after they happen doesn't take the pain away. A mother would do anything for her girl but inevitably finds that she can't. She will always be one step, one heartache, and one decision behind, yet it's only by encouraging them to go their own way that they can enjoy the pride and pleasure womanhood has to offer.
XXX
BunBun Muir, sporting a split seam and with the peach satin of his inner ears dingy and worn, was sporting a fresh purple bow for Easter. He sat in a basket surrounded by chocolate bunnies, colorful candies, and a new Nerf gun. Wrapped in rainbow cellophane were two new books, "Maine Alphabet Book", and "Sailor's Knots for Boys", the cellophane bag was tied shut with a length of rope for practicing knots.
Candy Muir's Easter Basket had a pair of sparkly sandals, white chocolate rabbits, three bottles of nail polish, Volumes 1 through 3 of "Pioneer Time Travel Girl" books, and a real silver flute.
Carolyn's Easter Basket had a check for 5000 dollars, a signed and paid for contract for a moving truck, A box of chocolate cherry cordials, a tin of "Inspiration" tea, a mug that read "Anything you say or do might end up in my novel".
"Maine isn't that far away," she reminded her mother as they shared a cup of tea.
"Distance is a state of mind," her mother said with a brave smile.
Carolyn knew she had the opening line for her next story.
The End