Spitfire (Puffin Cove) (5 page)

She knit her brow in frustrated confusion
. "Shit," she muttered. "Shoulda fired up the damned GPS."

Landon
chuckled. "But you're in luck, as the proprietors of a very nice B and B are right behind you." He pointed to the Sullivans. Laura spun around on her stool and gave a surprised look to the older couple. "Laura, meet Dr. and Mrs. George and Moira Sullivan. George is a retired paediatrician and Moira and he run the best inn in town."

"
Oh my yes, deary. We'd be delighted to have you. Our bookings don't start filling up until mid June, so we have a room just waiting for you. Ocean view, private bath, trails near-by if you've a mind to explore."

Moira almost burst at her ample seams.
George felt the excitement vibrating from his overly social wife and closed his eyes. God help the poor girl. He hoped she would make it out alive.

"How long are you staying in Newfoundland, deary
? There's so much to see and do. I hope you're taking a nice long vacation." George could see Moira's wheels turning faster than a scalded cat, her imaginary private investigator's hat perched jauntily on her head. He could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears.

The lovely alto voice of the equally lovely lady
explained, "Actually, I don't have any concrete plans at all. I've run away from home, you see."

How odd, thought
George. A little old to be running away from home. But people from away sure were a quirky lot. Not like us down-to-earth islanders.

"But there may be hitch to staying with you folks
. I have a little dog. She's very well behaved and wouldn't be any trouble, but if you have a no-pet policy I'll totally understand." George bit back a grin at her crossed her fingers on her lap.

Moira glan
ced at George, and he shrugged, resigned as always. His wife would do what she wanted anyway. She barely kept control of the excitement in her voice as she said, "Let's just try it out for a night or two and see how it goes then, shall we?"

"Oh, this is awesome
! I'm going to have to go out and find mister moose and give him a big kiss," she laughed.

Sweeney cleared away her empty plate
. "Another pint or some dessert, Laura?"

She turned back to the barkeep and leaned back on her stool, taking a deep breath and rubbing her hand over her abdomen
. "Sweeney, that was the best fish and chips I've ever had. Thank you, and no. I'm stuffed." She squeezed his hand as he wiped her place at the bar. Harrumphing, he swung through the kitchen door with the dishes.

George
quietly cleared his throat. "Well, my dear, if you're finished, so are we. We'd be happy to lead the way to Puffin House if you'd like to follow us."

"Perfect
. Just let me settle up with Mr. Sweeney and I'll be right out."

"Nope
. On the house." Sweeney said as he settled back behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest. Laura opened her mouth to protest but Sweeney held up his hand. "Call it a welcome to town gift. And it won't be happening again, so take it while you can."

She slid off her stool and walked around the bar
. Reaching her arms around his beefy shoulders, she kissed him smack on the cheek. "Thank you, Sweeney, you're a sweetheart." She skipped back to her stool, shrugged on her coat and looped her scarf carelessly around her neck.

"Sweeney
! A sweetheart! That's rich. How about me? Where's mine?" Landon advanced on Laura as she laughed and backed away, shouldered her purse and slapped her butt.

"Right here,
Valentino."

He made a move to grab her and she ducked out the door,
her rich laugh echoing behind her.

Smiling, he turned back to the bar, downed his last swig of beer and shared a lecherous grin with Sweeney
.

"Yup, looks like things could get interesting around here for a spell."

Chapter Five

Puffin House sat up on a cliff overlooking the sea
. Laura couldn't wait to see it in the daylight. Dr. and Mrs. Sullivan's clapboard two story was a bright red from what she could see by porch light. The shutters looked to be black, the white trim and veranda gleaming in the yellow glow of the porch light. Muskoka chairs sat by the door in shades of orange and yellow. She realized that the colours of the house must have been inspired by the little bird perched on the sign that carried its name.

She remembered her first sighting of the puffins from her family vacation
. The boys were so excited. So had she been. A vacation that didn't involve tents and fire pits was unheard of for Laura.

Over the years
Kyle and Kevin's dad had taken them on trips to Florida and Niagara Falls, golfing in Myrtle Beach, skiing in Banff. He was very good to the boys, and she was grateful. They wouldn't have had those opportunities with her. She had worked full-time at the hospital, having the boys at home every other weekend. The pattern rarely varied, year after year.

The weekends they were with her were spent shuttling them around to their different sports, drum and guitar lessons, catering their sleepovers, cooking their favourite foods, baking the chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that were a staple in their home
. One of her most treasured memories was of her babies helping her plop the gooey dough on the cookie sheets, watching them wrap their little pink tongues around the tines of a beater each.

When they were at
Joel's she worked twelve-hour night shifts. It was a perfect arrangement for parenting, but didn't leave much time for socializing. For some it could have been a lonely life, but she hadn't minded. She had always enjoyed her own company, had a few really good friends, and had her parents not far away. Her life was both full and empty. Being a mother was the only thing she had ever wanted to be. And she had poured her heart into it, was good at it. There were very rarely any luxuries for Laura, so the vacation her mom took them on to Newfoundland had been such a treat.

They had stayed at her great uncle
's cottage in Clarenville, driven up and down the Bonavista trail in the old Buick left there for use of family and renters, and absorbed the charm and majesty of the Avalon and Bonavista peninsulas.

The highlight of the trip had been the whale and puffin boat tour
. The whales were playful around the boat and the boys shrieked every time they saw a fin or a tail, competing with pointing fingers for each new sighting. The captain had introduced the whales by name, and Laura was stunned by the beauty of two of them especially, mother and daughter performing their graceful, rolling ballet at the water's surface.

Unfortunately, they didn
't get to see one breach, but they were told that it was rare. They had missed the big capelin run by a week or so, when the whales had their feeding frenzy. But the puffin island they sailed around was incredible. Thousands of little black birds with bright white, orange, red and yellow bills sat in their nests, looking like odd little parrots. Each crevice on the cliff side of the Witless Bay Ecological Reserve had a family of birds. She chortled right alongside the boys as they watched the crazy fliers dive like kamikazes straight down into the sea, then moments later launch back out with beaks full of silvery fish.

The boat had been able to get fairly close to the cliff, and with the binoculars their p
oppa had given them, the boys were able to see the comical little birds as close as though they were right in the palms of their hands. They both had wished they could take one home, so their nana had bought each of them a fluffy stuffed replica at the gift shop. As far as she knew, they still had them somewhere to this day.

That had been a special time for the boys, and for
Laura. She was able to be a mother with no cares for a week, as well as a daughter being spoiled by her own mother. She wished that her dad had been there, but he didn't really like to travel.

Oh, he loved to fly, just not as a passenger
. His four-seater Piper Cub was his passion, and his wife's constant source of irritation. But they managed their compromises, as most good marriages did. So Iris travelled with friends or her sisters, Dan flew with his cronies, and when they were together they were all the stronger for it.

Laura
knew that the fond memories of that vacation were partly responsible for her making this move across the country, this leap of faith to completely change her life. When she made her decision, she had known that the genuine hospitality of the people of Newfoundland was ingrained, and would make this fresh start a little less terrifying.

"I'm sorry that you can't see the ocean tonight, dear, and it's likely that tomorrow won't be much better." George explained. "Storm's coming in. But they're not calling for anymore snow, for a change." He smiled at her as he took her overnight bag out of her car. "We have satellite, Wifi, and lots of books and games if you're in the mood. Breakfast will be ready when you are. I'll take the bags up and make up your bed while Moira shows you around. Moira, don't keep the girl up too long. She's looking all in but her corset strings."

"
Thank you Dr. Sullivan." She giggled and gave his hand a little squeeze as he took her suitcases and started across the porch.

"
George, dear. Please." She nodded once and smiled.

"
Want to hear something funny, George? I'm a retired paeds nurse. We'll have to put our heads together sometime and tell stories. But for now, I should introduce you to Miss Lola. Lola, this is Dr. and Mrs. Sullivan, and they're letting us stay in their home. If you so much as drip one golden drop in there I'll ship you back to Mexico."

Lola
wagged her hind quarters and….George's mouth popped open as Lola's lip curled up in what definitely looked like a smile. He shook his head and patted hers. Laura hooked Lola to her leash and let her sniff around the yard to do her business. She slipped a little black bag out of her pocket, stooped and scooped, and dropped Lola's parcel in the trash bin by the driveway.

"
Come right in, deary," Moira ushered, scratching the butt-wiggling Lola under her chin. "Welcome to Puffin House. As you can see, the main floor is pretty well open, and welcome to you anytime. We like to be a part of our guests' day if they wish. Your room is your privacy as you like it, and our private quarters are through the door on the right of the kitchen. Anything you need, you just bang on the door if we're not in here."

The room had rich, knotty pine floors covered here and there with hand-braided throw rugs
. An enormous stone fireplace graced the wall to her left, with a hammered pine harvest table off to the side, six press-back chairs taking their places in front of six rustically woven placemats. A beautiful burl of wood fashioned into an oval bowl sat in the centre of the table and held a collection of fresh fruit. Cushy armchairs and a chintz-covered love seat were arranged around a low iron coffee table in front of the fire. Several crocheted afghans in a riot of colours were draped over the arms and backs of the seats, evoking a desire to curl up there with a book on a stormy day.

Maybe she
would do that tomorrow. Her heart swelled at the thought that she just could. She could do anything she wanted. No schedules. No obligations. No friggin' sanity! Holy cow.

To the right of the foy
er was the kitchen area. Marble counter tops gleamed and oak cupboards glowed. Stainless steel appliances stood at the ready, from fridge to stove, to…was that a cappuccino maker on the centre island? Lord, she may never leave.

"
Mrs. Sullivan, your home is spectacular!"

Moira beame
d with pride. "Now, me ducky, you just call me Moira. I feel like we're family already. Come, I'll take you up to your room."

They climbed the iron and pine staircase and
passed George on the landing. He and Laura exchanged warm smiles, and Moira led her into her room. It invited with a cozy, simple elegance. An antique wardrobe sat against one wall, a long, mirrored dresser against the other. A very comfortable looking four-poster bed claimed the room, with an antique quilt folded at the foot. Laura ran her hand along the edge and realized that it was hand-stitched. So much workmanship here. Old world charm with all the modern conveniences. She couldn't have wished for a more perfect place to have wound up on the first night of her new life.

The wall across from the bed was mostly window, with a fainting couch in front just begging to be sat on, inviting the traveller to dr
eam as the sea spumed up in furious majesty. Oh, she looked so forward to doing that.

"
Moira, it's just perfect. Thank you."

Moira patted her hand
. "Now you just make yourself at home. Like I said, if there is anything at all you need we're not far away. Would you like tea or and a brandy before you turn in?"

As Moira
fluffed the pillows and turned down the bedspread, the bathtub through the door to the ensuite beckoned to Laura.

"
No, no, I'm just fine, thanks. But would it be okay if I take a quick bath before bed?" She couldn't keep the longing out of her eyes.

"
Of course, deary. This is your home away from home. Whatever would make you happy. Towels in the cupboard, extra blankets in the dresser."

Laura
smiled softly as she ran her hand down Moira's sweatered arm, and gave her hand a squeeze. She knew that she had been hoping for it, expecting it, but even so, was a little overwhelmed at the truly heart warming welcome a stranger in a strange land had received. She felt a deep, enveloping sense of homecoming.

Moira smiled and patted
Laura's cheek. "Now, me ducky, you just settle in and we'll see you when we see you. Sleep as late as you like or get up as early as you want." She bustled to the door and blew Laura a kiss as she headed down the stairs.

Laura stifled a laugh as she read the sign over the toilet.

If it
's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down.

God, she loved this land.

True to
George's word, the weather over the next few days was blustery and wet. Laura spent hours at the window seat in her room reading through her Newfoundland tour book, day-dreaming, and answering emails from her sons.

To: Laura Spencer

From:
Kyle Patterson

Subject:
Hi Mom

Hi
. Did you get to Newfoundland okay? What's the weather like? Did you kiss the cod yet? Where are you staying? Kevin and I got in our first round of golf today. We went with dad to the country club. The course is in pretty good shape for the spring. I shot a 52 on the front 9 and a 46 on the back. Not too shabby, eh? Kevin did about the same, and dad blew us out of the water. Anyway, hope you're doing good. Things are good here. Talk to you soon.

Love you.

Kyle 

Laura pressed her fingers hard against her lips, unshed tears burning her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She was just so damned proud of her boys. They were becoming good men. And she loved and missed them like crazy. But they were gone from under her wing now, and that is what started this whole wild ball rolling.

To: Kyle Patterson

From:
Laura Spencer

Subject:
Re: Hi Mom

Hi, baby
. I'm so glad you emailed. It was so nice to log on and see a message from you. Things are perfect here! Just like they were when we came with Nana. Do you remember? Anyway, I'm staying at a beautiful B&B by the sea just north of St. John's called Puffin House. I'll text you the number in case of emergency. I may stay here for a bit. Every one is so friendly. I almost hit a moose on the way into town. Holy crap! Those things are huge! If I wasn't so freaked out I would have taken a picture. All is fine, though. Hey, you'll like this. I bought a Touareg. Pretty sweet ride. Not as cool as yours, but it's a mom car. A very cool mom car.

That
's awesome that you got out golfing already. Keep practicing. One of these days you'll beat your dad.

Thanks again for the email
. And keep 'em coming! Tell your brother I love him and to text or email anytime. Say hi to your dad for me.

Be good and be careful
. Don't drink and drive.

Love you, love you, love you!!!!

Mom

xoxoxo

To:
Laura Spencer

From:
Kevin Patterson

Subject:
Hey

Hi Mom
. How are you? Everything cool? Didn't see a plane crash on the news, so I figured you made it. Are you liking it so far? I know it's only been a few days. We're all good here. Went golfing yesterday. I blew Kyle out of the water. He only threw two clubs this time. Dad beat me by three strokes, but I think he cheats. Remember that chick in my calculus class? Turns out she broke up with her boyfriend. Hmm. We'll see, eh?