Beach Winds (8 page)

Unlike her unfilial daughter.

Frannie sat in the car. With the sun hitting the exterior and no wind to speak of, it was cool, but pleasant. She’d parked in a public beach access lot. There were picnic tables near where the parking ended and the dunes began. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

What drove her? Guilt? Over being a bad daughter? Over resenting her father
’s death and holding it against her mother?

She didn
’t lie to herself. She knew her feelings were unreasonable.

There was something wrong with her
. Something broken inside. Something that nibbled at her nerves and refused to let her be comfortable in her own skin. Refused to let her live her life without guilt.

Brian was gone when she returned to the house. Vaguely, she wondered what he did with his
time when he wasn’t here.

His business. Not hers.

She was alone at
Captain’s Walk
, but that was okay because there wasn’t anywhere else she’d rather be just now.

****

That night she swam up out of sleep, looking for something, seeking frantically and finding only a dark room. A faint memory of soft crying, whimpering, lingered. This hadn’t happened in a while and she blamed the lunch date. She’d learned long ago that it was better to get up, have a snack and watch a few minutes of middle-of-the-night TV to break the cycle of restless sleep.

She paused in front of the fridge. She
’d bought a few groceries, but it was time to give the refrigerator a real cleaning out and do some serious food shopping.

A real cleaning
…the words brought to mind Mrs. Blair. It might be nice to have her in one day a week. She could clean up the fridge and chase the dust bunnies. Maybe some other household duties, too.

The toast popped up from the toaster. She carried it
, along with a small glass of apple juice into the living room and snapped on the TV. She snuggled on the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her and dragging the sofa blanket down over her legs. A fascinating infomercial selling a new facial care system played out before her. Not much, but better than a blank screen, and mildly amusing in a cynical way.

Starlight twinkled in through the gaps in the
blinds. To cover the glass door, she’d fastened a sheet over the drapery rod.

Too bad
it was cold. By the time the weather warmed up, she’d be back in Raleigh. Back with Laurel.

She slid down until her head rested against the back of the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table. The smell of fresh paint lingered.

Back with Laurel.

No, she wouldn
’t.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine where else.

She could get her own place again. Maybe get a real job.

Living with Mother had been a temporary arrangement, something that benefitted them both, but was not intended to last indefinitely. Yet the temporary stay had stretched to five years.

Was she so afraid of being alone that she had allowed Laurel to make her choices? Or was it procrastination?

Waiting, that
’s what it felt like.

But waiting for what?

Chapt
er Six

It was morning and her neck ached. She stretched and felt the tug of
a pinched muscle near her collarbone. An infomercial had lulled her to sleep. Sales pitches had infiltrated her dreams. Not exactly restful, but still better than the recurring dreams. Like the one about the baby. A searching dream. Or a waiting dream. Sometimes one, sometimes the other, but they both reeked of loss and regret. On this bright morning she thought she might have been wrong. Whether of regret or waiting or searching, those dreams—almost nightmares—probably signaled her failure to move on with her life.

She unwrapped the blanket that trapped her legs. She went over to the front windows and opened the blinds. The morning
sunlight sparkled on the water and created mirror-like depths in the wet sand.

Frannie
released the sheet from its pins. She slid the door wide and let the morning rush in. The chill air came in with it. She pulled on her coat, wrapped the scarf around her neck and stepped outside. It was cold, yes, but no wind and the sky was a sharp, post-dawn blue. She loosened the scarf.

She stayed well away from the water and walked through mounds of dry sand, watching the sea birds diving for breakfast
. On the shore side, rows of colorful houses mimicked the colors of dawn and sunset. The tang of salt and wet sand mixed with the smell of those weedy grasses on the dunes and tickled her nose.

She turned back. After her shower, she
’d pay a visit to Uncle Will and make a grocery run. New sheets, too. Uncle Will’s bedding was grim. But her first stop would be in Beaufort at the Front Street Gallery to take another look at the painting that had caught her eye.

****

Frannie parked at the marina and walked down the sidewalk toward the gallery. She paused to cross the street and saw Maia standing outside.

Maia was actually with someone,
chatting. The woman had longish brown hair, slim, and there was something about the way she held herself. The woman was pretty, but not remarkable until she smiled. She knelt to tuck a blanket around a baby in a stroller. This was the woman who’d been leaving the gallery the other day. Maia bent over the baby, too, and judging by her animation, she was stirring him up as much as his mother had tried to soothe him. Frannie watched as both women started laughing.

No place for her there. A car drove past.
She stepped back up onto the sidewalk.

Maia saw her. She waved, but not
only in greeting. She motioned for her to join them.

Frannie hesitated, but then the other woman was looking her way, too, and she knew she looked odd standing there
and staring. She stepped back into the street and crossed over.

The woman
had one hand on the stroller handle. She and the baby were both dressed warmly. Maia wore only a longish, bulky sweater over her clothing. She crossed her arms and gave a little shake.

Frannie said,
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“
Not at all. Were you looking for me?”

“
I wanted to ask about a painting.”

“
Lovely! But first I want to introduce you to my friend, Juli.” She nodded toward the woman. “And this is her darling, beautiful son, Danny.”

Juli held out her hand.
“Are you new around here?”

“
Yes. I’m staying at my uncle’s house, in Emerald Isle.”

“
We live there, too, on the sound side. I hope you like our town. It’s a quiet time of year. Not typical beach weather, but I like it.”

Frannie
looked down at the infant. “He’s precious. How old is he?”

“
Nine months.”

“
Almost ten months,” Maia corrected. She added, “He’s a sweetheart.”

Danny was watching them, his eyes moving from his mama to Maia to her, a stranger, but with that semi-vacant, slightly unfocused look that
signaled he was on the edge of sleep. His mama smiled, but there was something in her expression Frannie couldn’t decipher. Different emotions, including something like confusion, played across her features. It kept Frannie from feeling comfortable. She was well trained at taking cues, but she couldn’t read anything with certainty in Juli’s face.

“
It’s nice to meet you. Please don’t let me interrupt. I’ll wait in the gallery.”

Maia touched her arm.
“Juli is the artist who painted the beachscapes your uncle commissioned.”

“
Really?” She extended her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

A man walked past and up the steps.
Maia said. “A customer.” She turned to Frannie. “I’m freezing anyway. Come on in when you’re done chatting. Juli, I’ll see you soon.”

Maia dashed
up the steps and into the gallery.

Frannie tried to refocus.
“I don’t want to keep you, but I’m glad to have the opportunity to tell you the paintings are beautiful, and I know exactly where I’m going to hang them, that is, as soon as Brian paints the dining area.”

Juli
appeared to be listening politely, but when Frannie expected her to say, ‘I’m glad you like them,” instead, she said, “Brian is painting? Brian Donovan?”

“
Yes.” What did Juli have against Brian? “He’s doing a beautiful job. Very…reliable.”

After a pause,
Juli answered, “I’m sure he is very reliable.” She shrugged, laughing a bit, and added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your uncle is a very nice man. I met him a few times. He makes an impression. I suppose being career Navy doesn’t go away with retirement.” The baby whimpered. “My alarm clock is going off. Danny never lets me down.”

Juli headed toward the parking lot and Frannie
went into the gallery. The man passed her on his way out.

Frannie said,
“I’m sorry I interrupted you and your friend.”

“
Nonsense.” Her voice was stern. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t interrupt.”

She
stutter-stepped, then caught sight of Maia’s face. It was mock anger. Teasing. She drew in a deep breath and tried to reset her expression.

Maia gave her a funny look.
“Would you like a cup of coffee? I have hot chocolate, too.”

She shook her head.
“No thanks. I’m fine.”

“
Seriously. Do you have to be anywhere? Can’t you stay for a bit? It can be so lonely around here this time of year.”

“
I guess so.”

“
Good. Then take off your coat and let’s take a break. What’s your preference? Coffee or hot cocoa?”

Maia was so brisk and business-like that Frannie found herself obeying. Between the bell over the front door and a clear view of the sales floor from the break room door, there was no risk of missing a customer arriving. Inside
the break room was a sink and counter and a narrow stove.

“
You can hang your coat on the hook over there. Cocoa?” Maia turned on the fire under a shiny kettle.

Suddenly uncomfortable,
Frannie shoved her hands in her coat pockets and pulled it closer. “I’m fine.”

“
You won’t be for long, and you won’t feel it when you leave if you don’t take it off while you’re inside. That’s what my mother says.” She pointed to hooks on the wall. “Hang it over there and have a seat.” Maia she pulled a couple of ceramic mugs from the cupboard.

Frannie
did as she was instructed. She watched Maia rip open the envelopes and shake them into the cups. As the water heated, Maia removed her sweater and draped it over the back of a chair.

The kettle wailed and Maia poured the hot water into a cup. She stirred it briskly as she set it on the table.

“Here you go.”

She went back to the counter and did the same with her own. Frannie swirled the spoon, enjoyin
g the steam rich with the aroma of cocoa.

“
It has little marshmallows.”

Maia laughed and her dimples deepened.
“Is there any other kind?” She sat opposite Frannie and the metal chair squeaked on the floor as she moved closer to the table.

“
Tell me what you had in mind.”

Guilt bloomed. For what? Because she
’d been jealous of the easy friendship she witnessed between the two women? But Maia wouldn’t know that. For heaven’s sake, Maia was a store clerk. They barely knew each other.

She asked carefully,
“What do you mean?”

“
The painting? You said you wanted to ask about a painting.” She reached across and patted her hand. “Is the cocoa too hot? Did you burn yourself?”

“
No,” she sputtered.

“
Then what? What’s wrong?”

“
Nothing. Really.” She shook her head.

“
I can tell you’re a thinker. A deep thinker. I can be pushy. I hope you aren’t offended.”

“
No.” She pressed her fingers against the mug. She was a bit off-kilter. She wasn’t used to shopkeepers inviting her in for hot chocolate. If this was a new sales technique, she thought it might prove effective.

“
Good. You look more comfortable now.” Maia sipped her cocoa. “So, tell me, what sort of paintings are you interested in?”

“
I want to dress up my uncle’s house. A little extra color, you know? I want a local feel.”

“
You’re at the right place.”