Secrets on Cedar Key (22 page)

I
had been home three days and was now over jet lag. The flights from Paris and Atlanta had gone well with Worth and Toulouse. I won't lie—it was a treat flying back first class seated beside Worth. Toulouse was settling in very well at his new, temporary home. My mother adored him, and Oliver had proved to be the perfect gentleman he was by accepting a feline into his domain.

I had spent my first days back in Cedar Key unpacking, doing laundry, and catching up on sleep, but now I was anxious to get downtown, see the updated work in the needlepoint shop, and visit with my friends. I pulled the golf cart to the curb in front of the coffee café and walked in to see the familiar faces of Suellen, Grace, and Chloe.

Chloe was first to jump up, scoop me into her arms, and proceed to kiss both of my cheeks. “That's how the French do it, right?” she said.

I laughed as I returned her hug. “That's exactly how they do it.”

“Welcome back,” Suellen hollered from the counter. “Your regular?”

“That would be great,” I said as I joined Chloe and Grace at a table.

Solange sat in her stroller, and I bent down to kiss the top of her head. “This child grew while I was away,” I said.

Grace nodded and smiled. “Sometimes I think I can actually
see
her growing. So . . . how was Paris? We want to hear all about it.”

“Right,” Chloe agreed. “Details. We want all the details.”

Some of the nights spent with Worth flashed through my mind, and I could feel my cheeks getting warm. “Well . . . let's see. I loved the apartment; being in Paris was like stepping back in time, which was a good thing because so much of it was as I had remembered. I had a great time visiting some museums, doing Christmas shopping, and . . . well, just chilling out.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Chloe said. “So I take it that it gave you time to think and just relax. You certainly look rested. Actually, oh, wait . . . you have a new hairstyle . . . and your makeup. It's new, isn't it?”

I laughed. “I decided to visit a salon while I was there and update my hair, along with the makeup.”

“You look great,” Grace said. “Rested and . . . glowing.”

“Here ya go,” Suellen said, placing my latte in front of me.

“Thanks. Can you join us?”

Suellen pulled up a chair. “For a few minutes. So you had a great time in Paris, huh?”

Before I could say anything, Chloe said, “Grace is right. Look at her, she
is
glowing. Okay, we want the details. What's brought about this change?”

I felt my cheeks heating up again. “It's probably the new blush.”

“Oh, come on,” Chloe said, leaning forward. “You know we're talking about Worth. He flew over there, you were both in the same apartment, I heard he delayed coming back a day in order to fly back with you, and . . .”

“And I heard he upgraded you to first class,” Suellen said, a huge smile covering her face. “So I don't think it's the new blush that's causing that glow.”

“You guys are so bad,” I said, stifling a chuckle. “Yeah, okay, things went well with Worth. Very well, actually. He's an incredibly nice person, and being with him alone we had a chance to really get to know each other and . . . well . . . I know it sounds cliché, but we fell in love in Paris.”

Grace smiled and patted my hand. “Marin, you may not have acknowledged it before you left, but it was pretty obvious the way that Worth felt about you weeks before Paris. I think Paris only enhanced what was already there between both of you.”

I nodded. “I think you're right. Being alone with no commitments or responsibilities allowed us to just enjoy each other . . . and we did.”

Chloe nudged my arm playfully. “Well, good for you, girlfriend. I'm glad you listened to my advice about living your life.”

I shook my head and smiled. If Chloe wanted to take credit for Worth and me becoming a couple, that was fine.

“Anything resolved about Fiona?” Grace asked.

“A lot, actually. I did a lot of thinking and came to realize that no matter what, Fiona wasn't to blame for any of what happened. Andrew is in the past, and I feel I should focus on the present—which is Fiona. So I called her from Paris, and, long story short, she's flying down here Christmas Eve day to spend some time and meet her brothers.”

“Oh, that's wonderful,” Grace said. “I know that was a difficult decision for you, but I think it was the right one to make.”

“I agree,” Chloe said. “We certainly get nowhere when we stay stuck in the past.” I saw her shoot a glance at Grace. “I'm really proud of you, Marin.”

“Me too.” Suellen gave my arm a squeeze. “Do the boys know about Fiona yet?”

“No, they arrive on the twenty-third, so I have one day to explain everything before she gets here.”

“And everything is still on track for you to move into your new home after Christmas?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, Victoria signed everything that was needed, I signed the documents before I left, and the attorney forwarded everything to me in the mail while I was gone. I'm now the official owner of Safe Harbor.”

Three cheers went up in the café, and I laughed.

“That's great. Congratulations,” Grace said.

“I'm sure you'll be very happy there. Can we help you with moving in?” Chloe asked. “We could have a moving-in party.”

“That might be fun,” I said. “I have to call the storage company about delivering my furniture and belongings, and I think I'll tell them to come on the thirtieth, so I'll keep you posted.” I took the last sip of my coffee and stood up. “It's great to be back, and I'm glad I got to see all of you, but I have to get over to the yarn shop now.”

“Oh, I think you're going to be very pleased with all the work that's been done,” Suellen said. “I popped over there the other day.”

“Great,” I said, heading to the door, and heard Chloe yell, “Be sure to say hello to Worth for us,” causing me to smile.

 

My mother was behind the counter talking to Raylene Samuels when I walked in.

“Oh, you're back?” Raylene said. “So how was your Thanksgiving in Paris?”

I saw my mother's eyebrows rise as she tightened her lips.

“Actually, I skipped Thanksgiving this year, but I did have a wonderful dinner that day at a friend's apartment.”

Raylene sniffed. “Well, I'm sure the French don't know the first thing about Thanksgiving.”

I suppressed a chuckle and thought,
And I guess you don't know the first thing about the history of Thanksgiving.

“Was Toulouse all settled when you left the house?” my mother asked.

“Yeah, he was fine. I'm sure Oliver will take good care of him.”

“Toulouse? Who's Toulouse? Did you bring a friend back from Paris? I didn't know a thing about this.” Raylene swiveled her head from my mother to me.

I knew it absolutely killed her to be the last to find out anything on the island.

“I did bring a friend back,” I said with a serious expression. “A furry one.”

“What? What do you mean? What on earth are you talking about?” Raylene sputtered.

My mother burst out laughing. “Marin brought back a beautiful Maine coon kitten.”

“A kitten? All the way from Paris? Well, if that isn't just the silliest thing I've ever heard.” Raylene picked up her bag, shook her head, and left the shop.

I shrugged. “That'll keep her talking for a while. Is Worth next door?”

“He is. Working away. Come on,” my mother said, taking my arm. “Let me show you all the work he's gotten done.”

We walked through the archway, and I gasped as Worth turned around and smiled. “Like it?” he asked.

My eyes took in the painted pale blue walls, the beautiful border print with dragonflies, and the tile floor. “Oh, I absolutely love it. God, you've done a super job, Worth. It looks wonderful.”

“That's what I told him,” my mother said.

He walked toward me and placed a kiss on my lips. “I'm glad you like it.”

“I couldn't be any more pleased.” I twirled around in the room. “It's actually looking like a shop now. I can't wait for my stock to be delivered, so I can begin arranging everything.”

“Everything should arrive by the first week in January,” my mother said. “Now come take a look at the patio area.”

We followed her through the yarn shop and back room to the outside, where she gestured with her hand. “What do you think?”

It didn't even resemble the overgrown, grassy area that had existed before I left for Paris. Two sides were screened in, and a partial roof overhang that connected to overhead screening jutted out from the carriage house at the back. Cement flooring covered what had once been weeds, and my mother had already arranged cozy white wicker furniture in the area for the women who would be enjoying this spot for knitting and needlepoint.

“Oh, wow! It looks fantastic! I just love it. What an ideal place for women to relax and visit in the good weather.” I gave my mother a hug. “You're a true visionary. Our customers are really going to enjoy this.”

My mother nodded. “I think they will. I was just waiting for you to return before I officially opened it up to the women.”

“Well, I'd say it's officially available now, and how's the carriage house coming along?”

“Pretty well,” my mother said as she removed a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.

We stepped inside and she flipped the light switch. The walls had been painted, the ceiling was finished, and the room had definitely shaped up since I'd seen it last.

“This will be wonderful, and I'm sure Chloe will love the extra room for yarn.”

“I think she will,” my mother said, leading the way back to the yarn shop. “The only things left are to finish off the roof, and then Worth can get the lighting installed in the needlepoint shop, and the fellows have to get the tile down on the floor in the carriage house. So it won't be much longer till our new business is up and running.”

I was definitely excited about my new venture. “Thank you both for making this happen.” I glanced at my watch. “Are you sure you don't want me to begin back at work till next week?”

“No, I'm fine here alone today, and Chloe will be in tomorrow and Saturday. Weren't you going to Gainesville today to pick up some Christmas decorations?”

“I am, well . . . we are. Worth offered to drive me. I'm going to get some for the shop, too, and I'll come over on Monday when we're closed to get it all decorated. We'll get the tree at home done tomorrow night.”

“That sounds good. Oh, Worth, why don't you join Marin and me for dinner tomorrow evening? We could use your help getting those high spots on the tree.”

He laughed and said, “I'd enjoy that. Thanks.”

I had updated my mother when I got back from Paris about Worth and me. She had been genuinely pleased, and I knew she liked Worth and was happy we were now together as a couple.

“Okay, I'll be back by seven, but don't wait dinner for me,” I told her before we headed out.

M
y mother and I had spent the morning baking and preparing dishes for the Christmas party that evening at the yarn shop. It had become tradition to have a gathering the Thursday before Christmas for our knitting group, and each year seemed to add more people.

The counter was filled with fried green tomatoes, mullet dip, and shrimp. Cocktail meatballs were simmering in the Crock-Pot, and a pistachio cake was in the oven.

“Ten more minutes on the cake,” my mother said, coming into the kitchen followed by Oliver and Toulouse.

I stroked the top of Oliver's head as I bent down to scoop up my kitten. “I think these guys like the smell of the food,” I said, nuzzling Toulouse's head under my chin. “No shrimp for you, I'm afraid. Maybe when you're older.”

“Did you have time to wrap our Christmas exchange gifts?”

“All done. They're in a bag on the dining room table.”

“How about another cup of coffee while we wait for the cake?”

“Sounds good,” I said, placing Toulouse back on the floor. I smiled as he scampered off with Oliver. He'd been with us only a little over a week but had settled in very well. He was a delight to have around and provided my mother and me with many chuckles.

I joined my mother at the table and took a sip of coffee.

“The house will be filling up come Sunday,” she said. “What time do you think Bella will arrive?”

“She said midafternoon, and you're right about the full house. Between her three Scotties, Oliver, and Toulouse, it'll be like a mini-zoo here.”

My mother laughed. “It'll add to all the fun,” she said, and I knew she meant it. “And everything's all arranged for Fiona's flight for Tuesday?”

“Yes, she arrives at twelve-thirty. I spoke to her on Sunday, and she seems very excited about coming.”

“I'm sure she is. I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

“Actually, I am too. I just hope the boys take the news okay.”

“I think they'll be fine. Do they know about you and Worth yet?”

I shook my head. “No. I was planning to spring that on them as well when they arrive. They'll probably be sorry they came.”

A smile crossed my mother's face. “I don't think so. By the way, I'm very happy about you and Worth. I think he's a very nice man. I had a chance to get to know him better that first week you were in Paris. There was no doubt in my mind how much he cared for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He enjoyed bringing your name into our conversations and would tell me if he'd just spoken to you on the phone. Those last few days, it was obvious he was counting down the minutes to get on his flight to be with you.”

That made me feel good. I knew he loved me. He expressed it in so many different ways. But it's always nice to have somebody else confirm the fact.

“He's a very special person,” I said and let out a sigh. “I never would have thought it possible that I'd meet somebody like him or have a man like him in my life. The way his daughter acted toward me when we first met could have presented a problem, but Worth wasn't about to accept her behavior.” I had told my mother the story about our meeting the day after I got home.

She nodded. “I agree. When he told her you were leaving, that certainly sent her a very clear message. The ball was then in her court, but she knew he wasn't going to put up with her foolishness. And you're right—if he were a different man, that could have been a major problem. I'm glad she backed down, though, and it all worked out.”

“Me too,” I said as my mother got up to remove the cake from the oven. “That smells heavenly.”

“We'll let it cool and then get the green frosting on it.” She placed the cake on a wire holder and said, “Maybe you could beat up the pistachio pudding and Dream Whip? I need to go get something.”

“Sure,” I said as she headed toward her bedroom.

A few minutes later she returned with a medium-size gift bag and passed it to me.

“Christmas gift so early?” I asked, turning off the beaters.

“No. Not a Christmas gift. Something that I made for you while you were gone, and I'd like you to have it now.”

Curious, I reached inside, removed an item wrapped in tissue paper, and opened it to see a gorgeous shawl done in a shade of paprika-colored yarn. “Oh, Mom, this is gorgeous!” I said, holding it up in front of me to better see the design, which looked a little familiar. “Is this the design of the Cedar Key scarf?”

“It is, and along the edges are some yarn overs to give it a bit of a lacy, open look. I designed the pattern, and I've called it the Compassion Shawl.”

I wrapped it around my shoulders. “I love it. Thank you. But what's the significance of the name?”

“I designed it for you, Marin. I'm very proud of you for the compassion that you've shown in forgiving Andrew and accepting Fiona. The lace work indicates a willingness to be open, and I wanted you to have something symbolic to mark this milestone in your life.”

I felt moisture stinging my eyes as I pulled my mother into an embrace. “Thank you so much. This shawl means the world to me, and every time I wear it I'll remember one of the toughest life lessons that I had to learn.”

“Good,” my mother whispered in my ear. “That's what I was hoping.”

The yarn shop was filled to capacity with women, the noise level was at an all-time high, and even though the Christmas music playing on the CDs was drowned out by laughter, nobody seemed to mind.

I stood in a corner sipping punch and watched the interaction. Sydney, Monica, and Clarissa sat beside one another on the sofa, eating and talking. Chloe, Grace, and Maude were mingling in the crowd. Leigh Salenger, owner of the daycare center in town, was in a discussion with Resa and Berkley, and my mother was making the rounds to be sure that everybody had enough food on their plates and punch or coffee in their cups. I smiled as warmth filled me. There was so much to be said for female friendships. I recalled Blanche Leroux and the vital friendships she had forged during World War II. I thought about my mother and the friendship with Annalou Carter that was cut way too short. I saw Flora and Corabeth laughing with Polly and Raylene. I loved each and every one of these women for a different reason—and I felt very blessed to have them in my life.

The door opened and Josie and Shelby Sullivan walked in, carrying a Crock-Pot and wrapped gifts.

“I hope we're not too late,” Shelby said. “Josie was late getting home from work.”

“Not at all,” my mother told them, taking the Crock-Pot while I went to greet them and placed their gifts under the small Christmas tree in the window.

“So how have you been?” I asked Shelby when Josie moved to the other side of the room to talk to Monica and Grace.

“Oh,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “This time of the year seems to get more tiresome. So much to do with the baking, cooking, decorating, and I just wish Josie showed as much interest in the Christmas season as I do.”

I noticed that Shelby did look tired, but she had been working hard all year to finish up her current manuscript and then leaped right into all the work of the holidays. I also knew that Josie did not put as much emphasis on material things as her mother did. I was sure she loved the Christmas season, but in a more subdued way.

“Yeah, it is a lot of work,” I told her, “but your decorations in front of your house look spectacular again this year.” Worth and I had driven past the night before, and once again, Shelby Sullivan had managed to create a winter wonderland on her property, to the delight of Cedar Key residents and people from surrounding areas.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to touch my shawl. “This is just beautiful. Did you make it?”

“No, my mother did. She designed the pattern and called it the Compassion Shawl.”

“I just love it,” she said but didn't question the definition of the name. However, Polly overheard us and turned around.

“I've been meaning to tell you, Marin, that shawl is simply gorgeous. You said Dora made it for you?”

My mother walked up to us as I nodded and said yes.

“What's the significance in the name?” Polly asked.

My mother looked at me. “Well, it has special meaning for Marin, so it's up to her if she'd like to share it.”

“Oh, please tell us,” Polly said. “And I was thinking, if it was okay with both of you, that maybe we should all make the pattern in our yarn group and then sell the shawls at the Arts Festival in April to raise money for a good cause.”

I felt that sharing was a major part of friendship, and what could be nicer than women coming together to make something to help others, like we did with the Cedar Key scarf?

My mother looked at me and waited for an answer.

“I think it's a wonderful idea. After we open our gifts, I'll make an announcement and tell all of you at the same time the story behind the shawl.”

By nine o'clock everybody was ready to open gifts, and a lot of oohs and aahs ensued as each gift was unwrapped and held up for everybody to see.

When we finished, my mother gently tapped a spoon against a coffee cup for quiet and attention.

“Merry Christmas, and I want to thank all of you for your patronage throughout the year and for coming this evening. With the opening of Marin's Serendipity Needleworks in January, I think we have an exciting year ahead. After the holidays we'll be ready to move a lot of the yarn out to the carriage house, and I think you'll enjoy having more room to browse all the different yarns. I also wanted you to know that beginning next week the patio area out back will be open and ready for all of us to use.”

A round of applause and laughter filled the room.

“Many of you have commented on the shawl that Marin is wearing this evening. I did design the pattern, and I made it for Marin. You might see that most of the design is the same one we used in the Cedar Key scarf, with the addition of a bit of lace along the edges. Some of you have inquired as to why I chose to call it the Compassion Shawl . . . but since it is Marin's, I'm going to let her tell you.”

I walked to where my mother was standing and felt a bit nervous. Although I knew each of these women quite well, I couldn't be sure how they would accept what I was about to tell them. I let out a deep breath as I looked down and fingered the edge of the shawl and then looked up to a group of expectant faces.

“Well,” I began. “As some of you know . . . I recently found out that Andrew has a daughter. A daughter that I knew nothing about until a couple of months ago.” I paused, trying to form my thoughts in my head. “Fiona Caldwell is now nineteen years old and lives in the Boston area. Needless to say, I was quite shocked and had a lot of difficulty dealing with this news. I was informed by Andrew's attorney that Fiona wanted me to contact her. She wanted to meet me and my sons, who of course are her half brothers.” I cleared my throat before going on. “I spoke to her once before leaving for Paris and had no idea what to do. However, while I was in Paris I was able to think and sort things out . . . and I've made the decision to have Fiona come here to visit. She will arrive on Christmas Eve. My boys arrive the day before, which is when I will be sharing this news with them.” I glanced at my mother. “And because of my decision, my mother felt that I had done the right thing, which inspired her to design this shawl and call it the Compassion Shawl.” I swallowed before I continued. “She said it represented the compassion I'd shown by forgiving Andrew and accepting Fiona.”

Loud cheers filled the room as I felt myself being enveloped in my mother's arms and heard murmurs of love from the women.

“What a beautiful story.”

“Dora, what a wonderful idea you had.”

“Isn't it just gorgeous? I have to have that pattern.”

I wiped at my eyes and held up a hand. “And I also wanted to explain that the reason the color of the yarn is paprika is because the color of forgiveness is orange. Polly said earlier that she'd like our knitting group to make some of these shawls for us to sell at the Arts Festival in the coming year, and I think it's a great idea.”

The agreement was unanimous, and my mother said she'd have the pattern printed and ready to pass out at our first knitting group after the holidays.

Before the evening was over, every single woman had approached me to offer support about Fiona's impending visit, saying they looked forward to meeting her and would welcome her to the island.

Yes,
I thought,
there is a lot to be said for female friendship, and I am so very glad to be a part of it.