Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SAMANTHA
L ike a lot of the houses in the area, Sunnycrest was built on a dune. Thank goodness Sam’s grandfather Clarence had put in a metal railing. It wasn’t pretty, but she was very grateful as she climbed the slippery steps. Grasping the railing with her left hand, she held Bogart’s carrier in the other. Granted, the pet carrier tipped precariously from time to time and her pet let her know how he felt about that. Why hadn’t Izzy sprinkled salt on the stairs? She knew Sam was coming. Finally, she reached the top.
Well, I’ll be darned . Sam looked up and her boots slipped on the icy top step. The front door gleaming with green foil brought a lump to her throat. Talk about a page from the past. Her sister had decorated the door just as their grandmother and mother had adorned it for holidays years ago. A wreath hung on the door, blinking with tiny white lights and dotted with green and gold ornaments. A huge, gold bow hung from the center. The winter breeze that chilled Sam’s cheeks sent the bow’s long streamers fluttering.
Tiny white lights twinkled from every window. Always creative, Isabel had added her own decorative touches here and there. Sam’s sister had always loved Christmas. And after their parents’ untimely death, Aunt Cate, Marlowe and Sam had made every effort to make it special for Isabel those first few years.
What if Izzy wasn’t here and the door was locked? She might be working at her shop, Coffee and Cupcakes, although it was well past supper time. Sam didn’t even know if she still had a key to this door. In any case, she hadn’t brought it. Stooping a bit, she shoved an elbow onto the bell. From inside the house came the distinct tune of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Sam smiled. That cheery touch was so Izzy.
Just when she was about to try the bell again, the door flew open. Izzy stood there with a lopsided smile, a piece of pizza in one hand and tomato sauce on her right cheek. “Sam!”
“Merry Christmas to you too.” As her sister fell back, Samantha stepped into the wide hallway and gave her sister a big hug. Thank goodness the coat rack was still there with a bench. After setting Bogart’s carrier on the floor, she kicked off her boots and unbuttoned her coat. “What a miserable drive. The roads were terrible.”
“You’ve always been a good driver.” Shoving back her blonde hair that now had a broad swath of green, Izzy smiled, her heart-shaped face brightening. “I’m so glad to see you, Sam. Can you believe this? I thought you were coming tomorrow.”
“Really?” Samantha thought back. Maybe she hadn’t been clear. “Sorry if I caught you by surprise. Things were so hectic.”
Throwing back her head, Izzy chortled. “Oh, I know how that feels.” As Sam slipped out of her coat, a big yellow dog trotted into the hallway, its tail flailing about while the dog’s nails chattered over the wooden floors. Their mother would be horrified. She’d always treasured these hardwood floors.
Behind Sam, she could almost feel Bogart’s hair stand on end. The dog sniffed around the carrier. “Izzy, I think we’ve got a problem here.”
“You brought a cat!” Her sister stooped to pet the dog. “Now Piper, I guess it’s time to make friends.”
Bogart’s bushy tail was curled around him. The poor guy wasn’t used to being around dogs. “Is your dog friendly?”
“Oh sure. Just takes time.” Izzy stood up and grinned. “I got her at the dog rescue center. One of the volunteers came into my shop with this pathetic story. Piper had been hit on the road and just left there, injured. Can you imagine? One of the vets in town saved her life.” Her sister’s blue eyes widened in disbelief.
When they were growing up, her baby sister had always brought home strays. One spring she’d gone to the garden store with their father to get petunias and they came back with three chicks. The tiny things were left over from Easter, clustered together in an incubator. Of course their parents let Izzy keep the darn things. They graduated from a cardboard box to wandering about the neighborhood in Naperville. She named them Larry, Curley and Mo. Their father like to watch Three Stooges movies on Sunday afternoons and of course Isabel was in his lap the entire time.
“So the driving was terrible?”
“Awful. Guess I should’ve paid more attention to the weather report.” Samantha glanced down at the cat carrier. Would it be safe to let Bogart out with that dog around?
“I’m so sorry that Kurt couldn’t come. Work stuff, huh?”
“Well, you know Kurt.” Sam would leave it there.
“Always working. I guess we’re getting another storm tonight. Isn’t that exciting?” Isabel’s eyes widened. “A white Christmas.” She said it as if that was something different in Michigan, which was not the case. That was why their parents had often brought them up here for the holidays. If Chicago couldn’t produce the snow, Charlevoix never let them down. Up here they got lake effect snow in spades.
Isabel obviously still considered it a thrill. When they were little, Izzy had been the first kid out in the snow. Naperville, a suburb west of Chicago, hadn’t gotten as much snow as Charlevoix. But it was snow, deep and white. That’s all Izzy needed. Sometimes she didn’t even bother to put on her snowpants. It drove their mother crazy.
“She’s going to catch her death a cold,” Mom would murmur to Dad as they stood at the bay window.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. She’s just having fun.” Coming up behind Mom, their father would look out the window as if he wanted to be out there too. “Aren’t those her corduroy pants? She’ll be fine.”
That much hadn’t changed. Samantha pretended she didn’t see Piper grab that piece of pizza from the hall bench and gallop away with it. Izzy was beckoning to her. “Come on into the kitchen where it’s warm. Did you grab something to eat on the road?”
“Didn’t have time.” Reaching down, Samantha hooked the cat carrier with one hand and followed her sister down the hall. “The staircase looks great.” Pine garland twirled down the banister, with Christmas cards dangling from red ribbons. The look was familiar and brought another twinge to her chest.
“Thanks. Remember, how…” Isabel tossed over her shoulder.
“Of course I do.” Sam didn’t want to follow Izzy down the memory lane that she’d been fighting all day out on the road. But she sure liked her sister’s efforts. “It’s really pretty, Izzy.”
Sam kept on walking, the cat carrier bumping against her leg.
“Want me to make you a sandwich?” Izzy turned to ask as they entered the kitchen.
“A slice of pizza will be fine.” The pizza box lay open on the table. Her sister popped a piece onto one of their mother’s turquoise Fiestaware plates and put it into the microwave while Sam glanced around.
Nothing had changed. It was as if she had been whisked back through a time machine. Even the dishwasher was the same. And those knotty pine cupboards, now missing a few knobs? Her mother had defended them as being “authentic.” They dated back to Grandma Norah. That’s how long this cottage had been in her mother’s family. Grandpa Clarence had won the house in a poker game. At least that was the legend and no one had ever disputed it. An attorney, Clarence had dabbled in politics, no small thing in Chicago.
The white Corian counters were crowded with mixing bowls and measuring spoons. Dishes, and coffee mugs filled the old farm sink. Maybe the dishwasher had broken again. Aunt Cate had said something about Izzy doing some babysitting. Sure enough, a highchair stood next to the table.
From the cupboards to the counters, their mother had loved this kitchen. Dad’s salary as a teacher wouldn’t have covered any changes. Her parents had barely been able to pay the taxes on this place every year. But Aunt Cate and Uncle Monty had helped. They were both New York attorneys. After their grandparents passed on, Aunt Cate and their mother owned this place jointly.
Reaching down, Sam opened the cat carrier. But Bogart didn’t budge.
The microwave beeped and Izzy handed the plate to Sam. “Hot, hot. How about a root beer?”
“That’ll be great.” Samantha wanted to weep. The pizza smelled wonderful, even through she burned her mouth on the first bite. At least Izzy had something to offer. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting her today. Had Sam been vague about when she was coming? Maybe.
The drawer of mismatched silverware rattled when Izzy yanked it open. “How about a fork?” The family used to have great fun going to the markets in northern Michigan, gathering the silverware other families had discarded. Her mother called it sharing family memories and took great delight in the jumbled drawer where nothing matched.
When Samantha got married, she’d registered for Gorham Silver. The gorgeous set still sat in its velvet-lined case in the drawer of a credenza. Sam hardly ever used it and of course Kurt didn’t want it. In fact, he’d passed on almost everything in the house. At the time, Sam had been relieved.
Pushing back her shoulder-length hair, Sam tried not to let the messy kitchen get to her. After all, Izzy probably spent every day at her bake shop. Much to Sam’s surprise, Coffee and Cupcakes, the shop Isabel had opened a few years back, had flourished. From what Aunt Cate had told her, it had become a mainstay in Charlevoix, second only to That French Place.
Despite the shortage of workers nationwide, Isabel had managed to keep her staff by sometimes offering babysitting at the shop for employees. And perhaps at her home as well, from the looks of things. A battered highchair sat near the huge wooden table. Today it was littered with crumbs, along with a bowl which might have held applesauce.
Yes, this room held a lot of memories. The white lace curtains on the frosted kitchen windows had been their mother’s work. They both remembered when Mom had sewn them herself. Before she married their father, Mom had taught Home Economics at Naperville High School, where she’d met their father. But once the babies started arriving, Mom chose to stay home.
“More pizza?” Izzy asked.
“Yes, please.” Sam nodded. One more minute and the microwave pinged and Isabel flung it open. Sam was starving. “Thank you so much.”
“What was the drive like?”
Between mouthfuls Samantha launched into a description of her day on the road. Her sister hung on every word, the way she used to when Samantha was reading the Little House on the Prairie books to her. Izzy’s face paled when Sam got to the part about the car she’d watched spin out of control.
“How scary that must’ve been.” Her sister leaned toward her.
“I’m telling you, the snow was absolutely blinding.” Her neck still ached and Sam reached up to rub it.
“Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Her sister’s sudden sympathy made tears swell in Samantha’s eyes. She wasn't used to people feeling sorry for her. Dropping her head, she blinked those tears away. This was no time to have Izzy worrying about her. Hadn’t Aunt Cate convinced her to come to Charlevoix to somehow help her sister? Sam had a lot of questions about that. Bogart gave an irritated meow. Sitting in the open door of his carrier, the poor thing sat waiting. “Guess I should get Bogart situated.”
Jumping up, Isabel swept her plate from the table. After rinsing it off, she added it to the stack on the counter. “Let’s go upstairs. It might be better if you left Bogart in your room for now.”
Her room. She hadn’t been back to her childhood summer room for a very long time. This had been a draining day. Much worse than the day when she almost lost Integra Pharmaceuticals to their competitor. Kurt had given her such a hard time about it.
While Izzy chattered away, Sam followed her up the stairs. Maybe it would help to curl up in her room. The familiar surroundings might help get her act together. She had made a promise to Aunt Cate and she had to stay strong
But what was the problem? Sure, Isabel’s life was dysfunctional in many ways, but that chaos had worked for a long time. Long ago Sam had decided that she wouldn’t be critical of her sister for having a life far different from her own.
Sure, Izzy and Marlowe had looked up to her. They’d always considered her as their big sister who could handle anything. Sam’s shoulders straightened. No way would she let them see her like this. She had to keep it together.
By the time they reached the top of the back stairway, Bogart was complaining. “That little boy is sure making himself heard,” Izzy said with a laugh in her voice.
“Well he’s not a little boy anymore. This carrier is getting heavy.”
Her sister threw open Sam’s bedroom door. If Samantha had thought she could handle this trip home, that dream went right out the window. “Oh my. Nothing’s changed.”
This room had been an act of love. Her father had added white bookshelves to one wall with a windowseat in between. And her mother had sewn the pink rosebud cushions to top that window seat. Sure, the pattern of tiny pink rosebuds had faded a bit. But the curtains and cushions still matched the comforter spread across the four-poster bed. Her parents had gone all out on this room for their oldest girl. Remembering all that brought a rush of feelings.
“I didn’t change a thing.” Izzy sounded defensive. “How could I? Even though you never come, this is still your room.”
Swallowing her tears, Samantha nodded. “So I see. This is amazing.”
Turning toward the bed, she fingered the long drapery held back by velcro. Their mother had been so talented. Frost painted the windows and Sam felt the cold seep through. Who needed storm windows on a summer house? Purchasing storm windows had been on their father’s to-do list for years.
All four bedrooms were corner rooms, and tonight her room felt chilly. “Sorry, Sam. Forgot to open the grates.” Stepping over to a metal grate, Izzy rotated it open with one sweep of her foot. Dry air poured into the room. Sam might need a humidifier in here in two days. But she wouldn’t think about that now.
“I was going to put the sheets on tomorrow,” Isabel whispered, looking deflated.
“Don’t worry about that. I can do it.”
“No, I want to help.” Hands on hips, Isabel surveyed the room as if it was a big disappointment.
“Fine. Shouldn’t take long.” Bending over, Sam opened the cat carrier. “I’m going to run out to the car and get his litter box and food.”
A cry rose in another room and Izzy smiled. “When you’re all set, come back to my room. I want you to meet someone.”
“Right, I saw the highchair in the kitchen. You’re so industrious, babysitting and running your coffee shop.” As Sam turned, she didn’t miss the puzzled look on her sister’s face. But she’d deal with that later.