Chapter 23
The day The HISTORY Channel wrapped filming at the Sunrise Cove, Wes and Quentin shared a final hug and promised to visit one another soon. “Us Copperfields are just an island away,” Quentin said as he got into the producer’s car to be taken to his boat in the harbor. Wes raised a hand as they drove away and disappeared on the other side of the ice creamery and gift shop.
Wes stood alone on the front lawn of the Sunrise Cove and peered up at the windows. They were dark and latched tight, still waiting for the next generation of guests to transform the inn to its former glory. The historian on-duty had said he still wasn’t sure when they could re-open. He supposed he would get the all clear soon, especially now that the basement room had been analyzed down to the finest detail and the diary had been assessed. The historians had met with Sam last night to discuss how they should proceed from a museum standpoint. They wanted to make it a historical site on Martha’s Vineyard and allow guests to enter and pay ticket prices. But would the Sunrise Cove see that revenue? Sam said he wasn’t sure.
But Wes couldn’t care less, right now, about the state of the Sunrise Cove’s cashflow. That weight sat squarely on Sam’s shoulders.
Wes’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to answer. It was Beatrice. His heart surged.
“Hey! You finished up over there?” Beatrice asked.
“Just about,” Wes said.
“I just ran into Susan. Kellan came home to surprise his dad for his birthday. We’re invited for dinner.”
Wes smiled. It had been ages since he’d seen Kellan—a once-troubled-teenager who’d grown into a remarkable young man.
“I can practically see you smile over the phone,” Beatrice teased. “I’ll swing by the Sunrise Cove and pick you up. We have to bring a bottle of wine.”
Beatrice appeared in front of the inn a few minutes later. She had the windows of her BMW convertible cracked, and a breeze swept through her silver curls. She stopped just long enough for Wes to swagger around the front of the car (in his mind, he swaggered, though it probably looked more like a waddle) and get in. He kissed her on the cheek and the lips, and she giggled and swatted him away.
“The traffic is incredible,” she said. “I want to get out of here.”
After a brief stop at her favorite wine store, they drove the rest of the way to Susan’s place. Susan and Scott lived next door to the old Sheridan House. Sometimes Wes still panged with regret for having left that side of the beach. As he got out of the car, he turned as Audrey and Max crept through the woods that separated Susan’s from the Sheridan House, and Max squealed with laughter and ran toward Wes. It was truly remarkable that Max would grow up in the Sheridan House. It was the only home he’d ever known.
They found Susan and Scott hard at work in the kitchen. They were making steaks and salad. Susan hurried to throw her arms around Wes and usher him toward the porch, where Kellan, Amanda, Sam, and Noah waited on everyone else.
“I don’t get it,” Noah was saying as Wes entered. “You’re going to court with the parents of the guy you just represented?”
Amanda grimaced and took a sip of her wine. She forcefully changed her face when she saw Wes, Beatrice, Audrey, and Max and shot Noah a look that told him the conversation was over. “Hi, Grandpa!”
“Don’t switch the topic on my account,” Wes said.
“It’s boring,” Amanda insisted.
“It’s not! These rich idiots think they can walk all over Amanda and Aunt Susie,” Audrey said, scowling as she adjusted Max in a chair and gave him a granola bar.
Wes tilted his head. Beatrice grabbed a seat at the end of the table as Kellan bolted up the back steps and back onto the porch. For a moment, Wes took stock of him—long-legged, taller than he’d been at Christmas, with a tan face and shoulders that spoke of hours outside. Had Scott said something about Kellan taking a job outdoors? Or was this from birdwatching?
“Grandpa,” Kellan said as he shot forward to hug him. “It’s so good to see you.”
Wes panged with love for the kid. As their hug broke, Kellan rifled through a bag of chips and sat down, gesturing for Wes to sit beside him. Wes felt lucky. The guest of honor wanted Wes, of all people, to sit with him.
“When did all this happen again?” Audrey demanded of Amanda.
Wes blinked from Audrey to Amanda. His brain felt foggy and inarticulate. What were they talking about again?
“Let’s just drop it, okay?” Amanda said. Her cheeks were pink, the way they got when she was embarrassed.
“Don’t switch the topic on my account,” Wes said.
The mood at the table stalled. Amanda gave him a worried look and sucked in her cheeks. Wes’s heart banged in his chest. Had he said something wrong? He turned to look at Beatrice, feeling like a man drowning in a swimming pool.
A few seconds later, Noah brought up a game of baseball he and Sam had caught on television, and Kellan chimed in that he’d seen it, too. Wes’s hands were sweaty, and he felt as though his clothes didn’t fit. He stood abruptly and wandered to the edge of the porch so he could catch sight of the front porch of the Sheridan House next door. He took a step, then another down the porch steps, wondering if he could just walk through the line of trees and rejoin his old life. Why wasn’t it that simple?
A hand touched his shoulder. Wes turned to find Beatrice gazing down at him from the top step. “Let’s take a quick walk before dinner,” she said.
Wes wanted to protest, but something in Beatrice’s eyes made him understand that she meant business. He shrugged.
Beatrice and Wes walked to the water. Beatrice took his hand and stuttered over her introduction. “I need to tell you something.”
But Wes was still thinking about the incident on the back porch. “Did I say something wrong?”
“You just repeated yourself,” Beatrice said kindly. “It could have happened to anyone.”
Wes felt a jolt of recognition. When he’d repeated himself—so soon after the fact—it only confirmed his dementia diagnosis. He’d freaked everyone out.
Beatrice didn’t look frightened, though. She adjusted her fingers so that they were laced all the way through his and said, “I talked to Dr. Hamilton today.”
Wes’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh.”
Beatrice’s eyes gleamed, as though she were holding in tears. “The reason I called him was because I’d read about a new ‘miracle’ drug for dementia patients. I didn’t want to get my hopes up about it. I just wanted to ask him if he’d heard about it and if he had any information.” Beatrice squeezed Wes’s hand harder. “He was surprised you hadn’t told me about it. He said you’ve been undergoing tests to see if you’re a candidate.”
Wes felt squeamish. “I didn’t forget to tell you,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn’t want to get your hopes up either.” He sighed. “Those nightmares scare me, Beatrice. I know they’re an indication that everything is getting worse. And the fact that it’s all coming right before the wedding? It’s terrible timing.”
Beatrice was quiet. Wes half imagined her calling off the wedding right here and now. If you’re not well enough to be with me, then it has to be over.
But instead, she said, “I’m just so pleased you’re already on the path to getting that medication!” She looked ten years younger. She threw her arms around Wes and let out a single sob. When their hug broke, she said in a flurry of words, “I read numerous studies about it. I read testimonials. I even watched a two-hour documentary about a woman whose life was completely changed by this drug.” She shook her head. “The fact that you might be just a week or two away from taking it floors me. More than that, the fact that you’ve had the wherewithal to do this all yourself proves that you’re much healthier, still, than you think you are.”
Wes tried to melt in her flattery. He tucked one of her curls behind her ear and imagined them at the altar pledging the rest of their lives to one another in a few weeks. He imagined that his brain would be firing on all cylinders by then. That Beatrice would be proud to call him her husband.
But there were no guarantees in this life. When Wes and Beatrice were called back to the porch table for steak, Wes clutched Beatrice’s hand under the table and listened to his remarkable family joke and laugh and tease one another. He cackled as Amanda told a story about baby Genevieve—who would soon be six weeks old. The sun dropped into the Vineyard Sound and cast the island in fiery oranges and pinks and reds. And just before the light died out altogether, Wes spotted a stork flying out across the water, its wingspan at least four feet. It was incredible.