45. Chapter 45
forty-five
Osterville, Barnstable, Massachusetts
Chris rolled into the driveway of the Sullens summer home around four-thirty in the afternoon. He’d taken his time meandering the country roads, avoiding Boston traffic, and stopping by downtown Osterville for a stroll.
Arriving on a Monday was smart, actually. He’d avoided the usual weekend crowds and traffic, so at least he didn’t arrive tired and cranky. It’d been a while since he'd been home and seen his dad. He’d need all the mental acuity he possessed. After leaving Vinalhaven the way he had, he wasn't sure he was all there.
The front door opened as Chris took off his helmet. A woman in her late fifties, wearing light blue pants and a short-sleeved white linen blouse, stood at the threshold. Her dark blond bob haircut grazed her shoulder in an elegant curve. Her light brown eyes sparkled when she saw him, and her lips stretched into a full-blown smile.
“Christopher, you finally made it!” Rosemary skipped the steps to meet Chris halfway.
Chris engulfed the warm older woman in a big hug. “Rosemary, you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.”
“It’s been a while. You’re sure you had your annual eye-check?” Rosemary patted him on the cheek .
Chris laughed. “I’m serious. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” Rosemary tilted her head gracefully as she inspected Chris. “You, my dear, can use a shower.”
“I’m thinking of just jumping into the pool,” Chris said.
“That’s not a bad idea, but rinse before you jump in, please.” Rosemary had managed the Sullens’ house as long as Chris could remember, and she was always a stickler for cleanliness.
“Come. I’ll get you a drink and a snack.” She ushered him inside.
“How are you, Rosemary?”
“I am perfectly well.”
They walked through the foyer, crossed straight through the large sitting room to the open French doors, and out to the patio and the ocean view.
“What delayed you so long, Christopher?” Rosemary asked. “Your father has been anxiously waiting for you.”
“Where is the old man? Don’t tell me he’s tired of waiting and went back to Boston?” Chris wouldn’t be surprised or even insulted if George Sullens had left. He’d stopped expecting anything from his dad.
“He’s out walking on the beach. He takes a two-mile stroll every morning and afternoon now. His doctor told him walking and swimming are the best exercises for him.”
Chris sharply turned to Rosemary. “Is something wrong? Did his doctor—”
Rosemary touched his arm. “He’s as healthy as an ox, but a sixty-five-year-old ox. His blood pressure is sometimes elevated, hence the recommended daily exercise and a more plant-based diet.”
“Dad, doing a vegan diet?” Chris couldn’t see his steak-and-lobster-loving dad suddenly turning vegan.
Rosemary chuckled. “Less red meat, more fish and roughage.”
“You take such good care of Dad, Rosemary. Though I doubt he does the same when he’s in the city.”
“He’s here now, mostly. He’ll go into the city once a month, but does most of his meetings online now.”
Chris’ jaw dropped, not believing what he was hearing. “My dad works remotely?”
Rosemary looked at him with disapproving eyes. “When was the last time you talked to your father?”
“Two weeks ago.” Chris shrugged .
“I meant really talk.” She rolled her eyes when Chris couldn’t answer. “Your father just started his walk about five minutes before you arrived. Perhaps you can catch him.”
Understanding that wasn’t a suggestion, Chris asked, “Which way did he go?”
“West. He walks to the end and back. I’ll have cold drinks and a snack ready when you return.”
When Rosemary went inside, Chris hung his riding jacket on the back of a chair and kicked off his boots before walking across the lawn barefooted to get to the beach and turned west. He wished he wasn’t in jeans, but it felt good to stretch his legs after a long ride.
At that hour of the afternoon, there were only a few groups of people scattered on the private strip of beach, enjoying the sun and the view of the Nantucket Sound, so it was easy to spot his father.
“Dad, wait up,” Chris called out when he was a few yards away from him.
George Sullens looked over his shoulder and slowed down when he saw Chris running to him. His face brightened with a big smile. “Christopher!”
The big man opened his arms and hugged Chris, which shocked the breath out of him. He hadn’t received a warm welcome from his dad in a long time. Their meetings had been more stiff and forced.
“You made it.” George pulled back, still with a smile, and studied his son’s attire. “Did you just arrive?”
“A few minutes ago. Rosemary told me you were on your walk, so I thought I’d walk with you,” Chris said.
“Glad you caught me.” George started walking again. “How was your trip?”
“Uneventful.” Chris fell into step next to his dad. “Rosemary told me you’ve been taking walks daily.”
George nodded. “Good for the heart, lungs, joints.”
“Is that also why you’ve been working remotely? I didn’t realize you’ve taken residence here permanently. Is there anything I need to know about? You’re feeling okay?”
Chris found it odd that he was genuinely concerned about his father’s health, even if their relationship hadn’t been what it ought to be. George was still his father, and Chris loved him, even if he hadn’t been the father he’d missed .
“I’m fine. I just feel it’s time for a change. That’s why I’ve been asking you to come see me.”
Chris sighed, knowing what was coming. “Dad, are we going straight to this argument? I haven’t even been home for a half-hour.”
“No argument. I just want to see my son.” George smiled at him, surprising Chris yet again. “Did you ride your bike here? You look a bit disheveled.”
Here it comes.
Chris braced for the criticism. His dad always disliked his motorcycle. “I did.”
“From New York?” George sounded more inquiring than disapproving.
“Not today. I was up in Maine, remember? I was helping a friend.”
“With what?”
“An inn on Vinalhaven Island.”
“I know Vinalhaven. Big lobstering community. I have a friend who spent summers there as a boy.”
“Really? You remember this?” Chris eyed his father skeptically.
“I’m older, not senile. Not yet, at least.” George chuckled. “Tell me about this inn.”
Chris wasn’t used to having his father show interest in his doings, so it took him a few beats to decide how much to tell him before George lost interest.
“My friend and her siblings inherited the inn from their father. It wasn’t operational for the past decade, but they’re reopening it with upgrades and five-star offerings.”
“It’s an older inn, you say?” George asked. “I wonder if it’s the same place Jeffrey went to. Even as an adult, he went back up there for a week each summer for a while. No traffic, he said.”
“It’s still pretty sleepy but beautiful. Different—rough around the edges, but I found it stimulating.”
George sighed in frustration. “The name just escapes me. It has something to do with the owners. Red hair runs in the family.”
Chris stopped and looked at George with a raised eyebrow. “Bright Head Farm & Inn?”
“Bright Head! That’s it.” George pointed his index finger at Chris’ nose.
Chris and George got to the end of the beach before it curved inland and turned back toward the house.
“Rowan told me the property has been in her family for four generations. But I didn't think it was so popular that someone you knew would come every year," Chris said doubtfully, thinking about her father’s business associates.
“I have friends from different walks of life, Christopher. You forget, we weren’t always privileged. Your grandparents incurred tons of debt to start their first hotel. It was their only hotel for a decade, but what a glorious place it was.” George looked far into the distance with a reminiscing smile. “Such a different time.”
He refocused and said, “I should call Jeffrey and tell him they’re reopening Bright Head. He’ll be thrilled. Tell me more about this inn.”
Chris eyed his father. “Really? I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” George’s bushy brows rose. “From what I remember from Jeffrey’s stories, Bright Head was more than an inn. It was a destination.”
“It is.”
Chris wished George had shown this much interest in his resorts, which numerous travel publications had dubbed as must-visit luxury destinations.
“So you’re helping your friend to revive this island destination? I’d say they’re lucky to have you,” George said. “You have an excellent eye for finding a spot and creating immersive experiences today’s travelers are looking for.”
Chris did a double-take at his father. Is that a compliment?
“Your desert oasis, for example, is brilliant,” George continued. “I would’ve never thought of opening a hotel in the middle of the Sahara, but that’s what the next generations are great for. You have a unique vision, so different from mine because we come from different eras. Just like my vision differed from my father’s. ”
George Sullens put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “I forgot that for a long time.”
Chris stared at a father he didn’t recognize. “Why are you saying all this now?”
“I just had a lot of time to think lately,” George said. “I also think naming your beautiful resorts after your mother is a wonderful tribute.”
“I thought she would’ve liked it.”
“She would’ve loved it.” George smiled. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, son.”
Chris’ muscles tensed, and his heart sank. “Dad, please tell me you’re not dying.”
George guffawed and slapped Chris on the back.
“This isn’t funny, Dad. I’ve spent most of my life thinking you’re disappointed in me. Out of the blue, you’re exercising religiously, eating healthy, working remotely, and now telling me you’re proud of me? What’s going on?” Chris demanded.
“That’s my failure as a father. I can’t tell you how much I regretted the years I wasted.” George sobered up. “I’m sorry, Christopher.”
Chris’ head went to Rowan’s story when her father had a heart attack and died. He’d been talking about regrets, too. Chris started to sweat as he realized he might lose his father.
“Dad, you’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this?” Chris questioned.
There was grief on his father’s face. Chris was sure he was going to tell him something devastating.
“God, what a lousy parent I am if you think I’m only telling you I’m proud of you because I’m at death’s door,” George said. “This is why I’ve been asking you to come home. I hope it isn’t too late for us to be father and son again.”
“Of course it’s not. I’m here,” Chris indulged George’s line of thought, but he wished his father would spit out what was triggering his regrets.
Chris took in details of his father’s appearance. He’d lost some weight. He wasn’t carrying the belly and the roundness in his face that Chris had associated with his father over the last decade. It’d actually be shocking if his father didn’t have some coronary issues.
George smiled, a glimmer of hope in his brown eyes. “Good, because I want to let you know I’m…”
Holding his breath, Chris waited for the blow.
“…retiring.”