Secrets on Cedar Key (2 page)

C
hloe was still at lunch when he walked into the yarn shop. When I first looked toward the door and saw the good-looking older man enter, I assumed he was here on a knitting errand for his wife or to purchase a gift certificate.

“May I help you?” I asked, walking toward the front of the shop.

“Yes, I'm looking for Eudora Foster.”

It was then that it hit me that he was Worthington Slater, and in a heartbeat I realized Chloe hadn't been exaggerating when she said he was
pretty darn good-looking
. At least six feet tall, he wore a casual short-sleeved shirt tucked into khaki trousers. A deep bronze tan and silver hair complemented his good looks. He appeared more likely to be sitting behind the desk of a successful company than swinging a hammer as a workman.

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat and extending my hand. “I'm Dora's daughter. Marin Kane. Nice to meet you. She's at home this afternoon but told me you'd be stopping by to take a look at the project.”

I felt his hand grip mine as a friendly smile crossed his face.

“Nice to meet you.” His gaze moved to the hole in the wall. “I take it that's the area to be remodeled?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it looks more like a bomb zone at the moment,” I said, walking toward the wall. “It's hard for me to visualize what my mother keeps saying will be so nice.”

Worth laughed. “Oh, you don't trust my abilities?”

“Oh, it's not that,” I stammered. “I mean . . . it's just a dark, dingy area right now. And so much needs to be done to transform it into a needlepoint shop.”

He produced a flashlight from his pocket before stepping into the adjoining room.

“Hmm,” he said, shining the light toward the ceiling, walls, and floor. “Well, yes, it does need extensive work, but like Ned told me, it's certainly doable.”

“Really?” I could feel my excitement building. “You're willing to do it for us?”

Worth nodded, and I followed him back into the yarn shop.

“I am,” he said. “I'll get with your mother to confirm, but when do you think she'd like me to start?”

“Yesterday?”

He laughed again. “In a bit of a rush, are you?”

“Well, a little. I was hoping to be able to have it open by Christmas.”

“It's early October. That gives me about ten weeks. I don't think that'll be a problem.”

In addition to his good looks, I liked this man's enthusiasm.

“Oh, that would be great.”

“Okay, then,” he said, heading toward the door. “Tell your mother I'll give her a call at home this evening, but I should be ready to begin on Friday.”

“Thanks so much.”

The moment Chloe returned from lunch, I shared the good news with her.

“Terrific. Then everything is back on track. Oh, and by the way . . . what was your opinion of Worth?”

I was surprised when I felt warmth creeping up my neck. Damn hot flashes. “Oh . . . he was nice. Very nice. And friendly. Very businesslike too.”

Chloe laughed. “In other words . . . I wasn't lying, huh? Pretty hot?”

“Yeah . . . I guess so. I mean, I really didn't notice. He wasn't here very long.”

“Right,” she said, and I saw the grin that crossed her face. “You know, Marin, just because your husband passed away, it doesn't mean your life is over. You can still appreciate a good-looking and pleasant guy.”

All of a sudden I felt flustered. “Yes, of course. I know that,” I said and was grateful when Berkley walked in the door, putting an end to further discussion.

I spied the basket of hand-dyed yarn she was carrying. “Oh, good,” I said. “You spun more yarn for us.”

“Yup, another ten skeins.”

Chloe reached over to touch the soft greens, yellows, blues, and lavenders. “Gorgeous. Jill did another great job with the dyeing.”

Berkley had relocated to Cedar Key the previous year from Salem, Massachusetts, opened up the chocolate shop on Second Street, and provided us with yarn from her alpacas, which were kept at her friend's farm in North Yarmouth, Maine. She had also fallen in love with Saxton Tate III, a British mystery author who lived on the island.

“Thanks,” she said, and I saw her gaze take in the hole that dominated our wall. “Geez, I heard about all the excitement here yesterday with Ned. Is he okay?”

I brought her up to date on Ned's condition while she walked over to take a peek into the room on the other side.

“I'm glad he'll be all right. But what a shame about the delay in the work.”

“Not exactly,” I told her and explained about Worthington Slater taking over.

“Oh, that's great. So maybe you'll have the needlepoint shop up and running by Christmas after all.”

“Here's hoping. Do you have time for coffee?”

“Yeah, a quick cup would be nice. Oh, I have some news. Saxton's daughter, Resa, and her husband arrive here next week.”

“That's great,” Chloe said. “Do you think they'll really end up purchasing the bed-and-breakfast?”

“I think there's a pretty good chance. Resa's husband, Jake, has been doing a lot of research about opening a pediatric practice in Gainesville, and it seems he's found another physician who's interested in being his partner. So that will enable them to relocate here. They have an appointment with Alison next week to look at the B and B, so if they like it . . . who knows? They could end up making an offer on it.”

“I'm sure Saxton is thrilled that his daughter might be living in the same town.”

Berkley accepted a mug of coffee from Chloe. “Thanks. Oh, he is. I think he still feels guilty for not seeing her for thirty years, so it's like he's getting a second chance. I'm hoping it will all work out for the two of them.”

I nodded. “Resa was pretty understanding, wasn't she? I mean, not all daughters would be so quick to forgive a father who made no attempt to see her since she was a child.”

“Yeah, I think Resa's pretty special. She feels that her parents' divorce was the cause of the estrangement with her dad, so she doesn't blame him.”

“What time are you closing today?” I asked. “I wanted to stop by and get some chocolate.”

“I'll be at the shop till five. I'm out of truffles, though. My shipment from Angell and Phelps is due in tomorrow.”

“That's fine. I'll get some dark chocolate pieces.”

“Well, there you are.” All of us turned toward the door to see Grace Trudeau walk in holding her six-month-old daughter, Solange.

Chloe ran over to scoop the baby out of her sister's arms. “And how's my favorite niece?” she cooed, holding the baby up in the air, which produced giggles and a trail of drool on Solange's chin.

“Oh, sorry,” Berkley said. “I closed the shop to run down here and drop off some yarn.”

Grace waved a hand in the air. “Not a problem. Just thought I'd pop in to replenish my chocolate supply.”

“That baby gets prettier every day,” I told her, and it was the truth. Grace, who was extremely attractive, and Lucas, with his French good looks, had produced a gorgeous daughter with olive skin and dark curly hair who was a combination of both her parents.

Grace laughed. “Thanks. We happen to think so. She tends to be a bit fussy lately, though. She's teething.”

“Well, you just let Aunt Chloe take her when she's fussy.” She placed a kiss on the baby's cheek. “That's right. Aunt Chloe doesn't mind and will have her laughing in no time.”

As if to prove her aunt correct, Solange broke out in another round of giggles, causing all of us to laugh. Chloe was besotted with her niece, but I also felt that part of it was that she was grateful to be reunited with her sister. After ten years of a rocky relationship, their aunt Maude had paved the way for the sisters to put their differences aside, and I knew Chloe treasured the love they now shared.

“Time for me to reopen the shop,” Berkley said. “And thanks for the coffee.”

“I just want to pick up some yarn to make a sweater for Solange and I'll be down to get my chocolate.”

“
Another
sweater?” I kidded her. “That child is going to have more sweaters than anybody in Levy County.”

Grace laughed. “Actually, I'm going to make this one in a size two. She has plenty to get her through this winter, so I may as well start working ahead.”

“Oh, look at this great mint green linen that came in the other day,” Chloe said. “Perfect for Florida, even in the winter.”

I returned to unpacking the new shipments while Chloe tended to Grace.

Shortly after four-thirty, I rang up another sale while Chloe worked away on a gorgeous teal cable sweater done with baby alpaca yarn that would be displayed in the shop.

“Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll scoot along. I want to make the chocolate shop before Berkley closes.”

“No, not at all. I'm going to finish up this row and then I'll be closing. I don't think we'll get any last-minute customers today.”

“Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow. You have a good evening,” I said, gathering up my sweater and handbag.

 

I walked into the living room to be greeted by my mother's dog, Oliver. A black standard poodle, Oliver had been rescued by my mother a few years before and was one of the great joys in her life.

“Oh, no, sorry,” I told him as he sniffed my bag of chocolate. “No chocolate for you, I'm afraid.” A pat on his head and a stroke beneath his chin made him happy as he followed me to the back of the house.

My mother was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a bowl of salad.

“Ah, you're home. Lasagna's in the oven. We'll be eating in about an hour,” she said as my cell phone rang.

I answered to hear a male voice inquire, “Could I speak with Andrew Kane, please?”

Surprised by the request, I mumbled, “Who's calling?”

“This is Rick at Mail Boxes in Gainesville.”

“Oh . . . well . . . Andrew was my husband. But he passed away in March.”

I heard the surprise in the caller's voice. “I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Kane. Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you. What's this in relation to?”

“Well . . . Mr. Kane had a mailbox here with us, and . . . um . . . the payment for the box is overdue. So I needed to call and see if he . . . or somebody . . . wanted to bring the account up to date. Otherwise, I'm afraid we'll have to cancel the rental of the box. I tried to call the number he gave us, but that phone was disconnected. This is the number that he listed as an emergency backup.”

What on earth was he talking about? Andrew didn't have a private box for mail. Our mail had always been delivered to our home. Or did he?

“Well, no. If my husband did have this mailbox, there's no longer a need to keep it. If there's a balance due, I'd be happy to pay it.”

“Oh, no. That's fine. I'll just discontinue the rental. However, there was one piece of correspondence in the box. Would you like me to forward that to you?”

“That would be nice. Thank you,” I told him and gave him my mailing address at the Cedar Key Post Office.

Disconnecting the call, I shook my head. “Well, that was odd.”

“You look bewildered,” my mother said. “Everything okay?”

I explained the call to her while still trying to sort out why Andrew would have this rental mailbox.

“Perhaps it had to do with the university,” my mother said. “Maybe he needed a post office number rather than a physical address for some particular reason.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Then why did I suddenly feel so uneasy?

I
spent the next day wondering what the correspondence for Andrew could possibly be. In all honesty, I think I felt more left out than curious that Andrew had set up a means to receive mail privately and hadn't bothered to inform me.

By that afternoon I had to discuss it with somebody other than my mother, so I shared the phone call with Chloe.

“It's probably not all that unusual. Like your mother said, maybe it has to do with receiving school-related material.”

“Yeah, well, why couldn't that be sent to our home address?”

Chloe looked up from her row of knitting. “Maybe he subscribed to porn?”

The thought of it made me laugh. Andrew was far from romantic or passionate. But I suppose that didn't rule out a fondness for something kinky.

“Could be, but I doubt it. Besides, the fellow said it's an envelope, not a magazine or anything. Plus, my cell number was listed by Andrew as an emergency backup.”

“Who was it from? What was the return address?”

Stupid me. “I didn't think to ask,” I said with disappointment.

Chloe smiled. “Well, don't let your imagination run away with you. You should have it by tomorrow.”

“Chloe's right,” my mother said. “Come on, girls. Time to close so we can get back here at seven for the knitting group.”

 

I always enjoyed the Thursday evening gathering of women at the yarn shop, and tonight provided me with a diversion from thinking any further about the piece of mail being sent to me.

I settled myself on the sofa and was joined by Corabeth Williams. Corabeth had been a bit of a celebrity in town the year before when it was discovered that she was the number one best-selling author of erotica, writing under the pen name Lacey Weston. Just shy of her seventieth birthday, Corabeth resembled a cookie-baking grandmother more than somebody who penned sexual escapades. But once the surprise died down, Corabeth resumed her ordinary life on Cedar Key while continuing to write her novels.

“How're you doing, Marin?” she said, reaching into her bag to remove a beautiful lavender sweater.

“I'm doing good. Oh, that's gorgeous. Is that a Malabrigo yarn?”

“It is, and the shade is called periwinkle. I just love this hand-dyed merino wool. I'm hoping to have it finished to wear for Thanksgiving.”

I looked up to see my cousin, Sydney, and her daughter, Monica, enter the shop. Sydney Webster had relocated to the island four years ago, surprising the entire town when it was discovered that my mother's sister, Sybile, had given birth years before to a daughter we knew nothing about.

They took a seat on the sofa opposite me and I smiled in greeting. I certainly loved my two sons, but seeing Sydney and Monica together always made me wish that I'd also had a daughter.

“How are those adorable triplets?” I asked Monica.

She laughed as she pulled an almost completed pink knitted hat from her bag. “Going through the terrible twos, I think. I'm hoping when February comes and they turn three, things will calm down.”

Sydney smiled. “Don't count on it.”

“How's the day care going?” I asked. Cedar Key was fortunate to now have a nice day-care center on the island for the young mothers who needed to work or just needed a break like Monica.

“Oh, it's great. Leigh is so good with the kids. It's only two mornings a week, but I think it's as good for them as it is for me. They're learning to play with other children rather than just each other, and they seem to love it.”

“I'm here,” we heard and looked up to see that a flustered Grace had joined us.

Normally looking well-groomed and stylish, Grace had arrived with her curly hair looking like it hadn't seen a brush for a couple days, her face bare of makeup, and the tee shirt she wore had a large yellow stain down the front.

“I know,” she said, plunking into one of the chairs. “I'm a mess. Solange has kept me up for two nights. I'll be so happy when that tooth comes in. I didn't want to leave Lucas alone with her, but he insisted that I come.”

Monica laughed as she reached over to pat her friend's leg. “Welcome to motherhood. I'm glad you came. You need the break. And, yeah, that tooth should be breaking through soon.”

Sydney looked across at me and smiled. “Makes ya kinda glad those days are behind us, huh?”

“Yeah, but the thing is when you're going through them it's like there's no end in sight, and then all of a sudden those kids that gave you the sleepless nights are grown and gone.”

Sydney nodded. “True. How are the boys doing?”

“Good. John loves living and working in Boston. With the economy still not great, he feels fortunate to have landed a position there with a good company. And Jason likes his job in Atlanta. He's thinking he might return to school for grad work, though.”

“That's really great,” Grace said, beginning to work on the new sweater she had started for Solange. “But don't you miss them? I mean, I know my daughter's only six months old, but just the thought of her moving away makes me want to cry.”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do miss them. A lot. But . . . that's a parent's role, isn't it? Bring them up the best we can, and then we have to let them go to make their own lives. Unless, of course, you're like me and return to the nest in your fifties.”

“I love having you with me, and you know that, Marin,” my mother said.

“And besides, under the circumstances it was the practical thing to do. It was silly for you to stay in such a large house in Gainesville by yourself,” Sydney added.

“I agree,” Corabeth said. “I think selling that house was right, and nobody says that you can't eventually buy your own place here on Cedar Key.”

“Hey, watch that, Corabeth. You'll have my housemate moving out on me.”

I laughed, but after seven months I had recently been giving this idea some thought myself.

By seven-thirty the room was full of chattering women knitting away. I always loved seeing the yarn the women had purchased at the shop magically being turned into various items. I looked over to see Chloe and Grace's aunt Maude working on what appeared to be a dress.

“Oh, Maude. That's gorgeous. Is it for Solange?”

She looked up from reading her pattern with a smile. “Yes, it's from
The Sugar and Spice Collection,
by Elsebeth Lavold. The dress is called Saffron and I thought it would be pretty using the aquamarine Hempathy yarn.”

“I just love it, Aunt Maude. Solange will look adorable wearing that.”

“Well, it'll be a little while. I'm making it in a size two.”

I saw my mother look around the shop. “Anybody know where Berkley is tonight?”

“No,” Chloe said. “I saw her earlier today and she was supposed to be here.”

Five minutes later Berkley walked in.

“Gosh, I'm sorry I'm late,” she said. “I'm afraid I have some bad news. Miss Maybelle has passed away.”

My mother's hand flew to her face as gasps filled the room. “What?” she said, jumping up from her chair.

Berkley nodded. “I know. It was quite a shock. Saxton had tried calling her all day like he usually does to check on her. By five o'clock, he became really worried and went over to her house. He let himself in with the key she'd given him . . . and he found her slumped in her chair with her knitting in her lap. He called 911, but he knew she was already gone. It must have been a heart attack.”

“Oh, my,” Maude said. “How terrible. Maybelle did have a heart condition . . . but still.”

I got up to put an arm around my mother. She had been good friends with Maybelle for more than fifty years. I knew the loss wasn't going to be easy for her.

“Did anybody contact her goddaughter, Victoria?” Sydney asked.

“Yes, Saxton had her number in New York and he made the call. Of course, she was pretty shocked. It happened so fast.”

Corabeth shook her head. “Such a shame. But thank goodness that Victoria reconnected with Maybelle and was able to spend two months here with her this past summer.”

Chloe nodded. “Yes, Maybelle really did enjoy that visit, and she adored Victoria's little boy, Sam. Is it too soon to know about any funeral arrangements? Is Victoria in charge of it?”

“Yes,” Berkley said. “Maybelle had just recently changed her will. Victoria is the executrix. She told Saxton that Maybelle's wishes were to be cremated. She said she'll call him tomorrow with details about a memorial service.”

“Gee,” Chloe said. “I wonder what Victoria will do with the house. Maybelle's had that since the early sixties.”

“Yes, she has,” my mother said. “She loved that house and called it her safe harbor. Maybe Victoria will use it to visit here with her son. This certainly is very sad news. Why don't we have our coffee and pastry now and break up early this evening.”

“Good idea,” I said, patting my mother's back.