CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tommaso
Last night after I left Danica’s, I Googled what gem was yellow and green like her eyes, and the closest thing I could find was the prehnite with the beautiful, dark striations and yellow-green color.
Because when the sun hit her face just right, it was like two gorgeous cut gems glowed back at me.
And that was exactly how she looked at me right now, with precious stones in her gaze as I told her she gave me strength.
Because she did.
She was strength incarnate, given her past and the beautiful future she and her cousins forged for their children. A fierce mama bear in a beautiful, elegant package.
We approached the Sewing Circle table, and all their eyes found mine. There were seven of them today, with one empty seat. “Buongiorno, signore,” I greeted them, flashing a smile I hoped conveyed confidence even though inside I was a bundle of nerves.
I recognized most of them from when we all had to stand in front of the Council to hear its verdict about Bonn Remmen’s land.
“Tommaso,” Jolene Dandy said with a head bob as she continued to knit without looking at what she was doing. Her eyes drifted to Danica for a moment. “Danica.”
“Hi, Jolene.”
“Sorry I’m late, ladies,” came the deep, rumbly voice of a man who also seemed slightly frazzled.
He entered the patio through the French doors with a to-go coffee cup in his hand and a cherry Danish on a plate while a small burlap sack was slung over his shoulder.
He took the empty seat. “Got held up at work.”
Sunflower Patrick moved some stuff out of the way in front of his seat so he could put down the cup and plate. His eyes met mine, then he stood up and offered me his hand. “Hey. How’s it going. Ansel Gregor.”
I took his hand; it was big and firm. “Tommaso Barone.”
Familiarity erupted in his eyes. “Oh yeah, the horse guy. Nice to meet you.”
“You … sew, Ansel?” Danica asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
Ansel, a tall, broad, blond behemoth, shook his shaggy head and sat back down after releasing my hand. “No. But I knit and crochet. I grew up with my mom and grandma, and they taught me. So when I found out they did more than just sew in this group, I asked if I could join.”
Sunflower patted his enormous shoulder. “Ansel is very talented. Has made some beautiful afghans.”
Ansel beamed and pulled out some yarn, knitting needles, and the start of a brown and blue something from his bag. The guy couldn’t be a day over forty, if he was that. But the way he just settled in with the women, knitting away, was actually pretty remarkable.
“Ansel is the fire chief for the volunteer fire department,” Danica said to me. “He also runs the recycling and waste management pickup.”
“Just a garbage man who knits,” Ansel said with a half-smile that brought out a big dimple on his shaved face.
I was so distracted by this enormous man who knitted with all these older women that I almost forgot why I was standing there in front of them all until Danica nudged me.
I cleared my throat. “Signore, and Ansel,” I started, “I want to …”
Everyone blinked up at me, waiting.
“I want to extend my apologies to you, Jolene, if I came across as less than welcoming. I am so used to my privacy, to protecting the animals.”
A few heads bobbed in understanding.
“I want to do better for the island. Something that keeps me and the animals comfortable, but also shows the community that we are … open to them saying hello to the animals at the fence.”
One of Jolene’s very thin eyebrows rose a little.
“Do any of you happen to remember Arthur and Libby McIsaac?”
I could see on their faces that everyone but Ansel knew exactly who I spoke of.
“Libby was part of this group,” Hattie said, her voice rattling out as she reached a trembling hand for her cup of tea and took a sip. “Miss her every day.”
More heads bobbed.
“Terrible thing that happened to them all. Losing Erin like that,” Gertie added.
“Erin was my wife,” I said past a tight throat.
A few of them actually looked shocked.
“Is that how you came to be on the property?” Kitty Barrington, who owned the island apiary, asked. “I knew it passed to Libby and Arthur’s grandson, but we all thought he was just renting it out to you. You married Erin?”
“Si. And my son is the owner of the property. However, he has a life in Milan and does not want to live here. So I am fulfilling his mother’s wish to run an animal rescue sanctuary, where neglected and mistreated animals can live out their golden years in peace.”
Sunflower elbowed Jolene on the other side of her. “I told you there was a reason he doesn’t want people bugging the animals. They’ve been through enough.”
Jolene rolled her eyes, but managed to look a little chastened.
“We will find a balance,” I said. “However, I … I need your help. Arthur’s sister—”
A few of them sneered. Particularly the very wrinkly woman on the other side of Jolene, with the pure white hair, ice-blue eyes, and dirt-stained fingertips.
“God, she was a nasty thing, even as a child,” Gertie said, shaking her head. “Miserable and entitled. Too good for us here. Left as soon as she could, and I’m not sure she ever returned.”
“Millicent was certainly not someone who carried much value in things without a definitive price tag,” the white-haired woman said.
“Keturah,” Danica said, addressing the white-haired woman, “Millicent wants the property Tom is on. Her son, Vincent Corcan, has been harassing Tom for a while now. He’s lawyered up and is threatening a petition of land acquisition, stating that Tom has no right to live on the land when he isn’t a McIsaac. ”
Several of the women sucked in breaths of surprise through their mouths.
“It’s your son’s land,” Jolene said. “That’s how the rules work.”
Keturah nodded. “I was good friends with Libby right until she passed. And I know for a fact that Arthur’s parents—who owned the land first, but died rather young—did offer Millicent half.
They would divide the land between their two children—who did not get along—and Millicent said she wanted nothing to do with it. Arthur bought her half.”
“So, there’s no way she or her son can claim the land when Arthur paid for it fair and square,” Kitty added.
Something wasn’t sitting right with me though. This all seemed too “cut and dried,” as they said in English. “How could I find a record of this transaction?” I asked. “To give to the lawyers?”
They glanced around the round table at each other.
“Not sure there was,” Gertie finally said. “Besides a bank statement or something.”
And there it was. No record, no proof. Our evidence was nothing more than the words and memories of several rather old women who—while lovely—may not completely remember things as they happened.
Hattie’s bony hand landed on my arm. “That woman and her son cannot come to the island. I don’t know her son, but she was …
” Her head shook, but I couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or perhaps early Parkinson’s.
“She was so unkind. A mean girl, I think they call them now. But back then, we just called her a menace. A brat.” She bunched her weathered face tight and her nostrils flared. “Broke my son’s heart with her games.”
“Whatever you need from us, Tom, just say the word,” Sunflower said, she turned to Sakura, the librarian. “Would there be any records in the library?”
Sakura lifted one shoulder. “I can certainly take a look.” Her dark-brown gaze met mine. “There would have to be a record somewhere regarding the transfer of ownership from Millicent to Arthur. And if you hire some lawyers, I’m sure they’ll know where to find them.”
“Millicent probably burned hers,” Keturah said before coughing a few times then sipping her tea. “You’d have to find Arthur’s copies.”
“You’re staying in their old farmhouse, right?” Sunflower asked.
“Si. Though, I have made several upgrades. It sat vacant for a while, and there was mold. The interior is almost all new except for the original brick fireplace and chimney.”
“Arthur and Libby would be proud to see what their home and land have become. All the good it’s doing,” Keturah added. “Libby was such an animal lover, she was. So was Erin.”
“Si,” I agreed.
“We’ll do whatever we can to help you, Tom,” Jolene piped up, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could swear I saw a glimpse of apology or remorse in her eyes. “We’ll get the word out.”
A few of the other women snorted. Probably because it was hilarious that the Island Mouth was going to “get the word out”. Of course she would.
“Grazie mille,” I said, resting my hand atop Hattie’s where it still gripped my arm. “That is why I wanted Bonn Remmen’s land. In case Vincent and Millicent have a case.”
Several heads bobbed in understanding. “We won’t let that happen,” Kitty said.
With emotion thick and heavy in my throat, but also a new sense of hope making my chest just a little less tight, I thanked them all again and said I would be in touch. Then Danica and I left the bakery via the stone path from the patio, rather than back through the building.
We reached the truck, and she climbed inside, grinning at me across the cab when I slid in behind the steering wheel. “You survived.”
“Because of you, bella.”
“I think you’re pretty competent and capable on your own, Signore Barone.” She buckled her belt and then bounced in her seat. “Where to now? I’ve got a sugar buzz going on. I could paint a fence and shingle a roof with this energy.”
I needed to get home. This was a lot of people and a lot of conversation for me for one day, particularly since last night had been similar. Would she be disappointed if I suggested home?
“Mouse has missed you,” I said, reversing out of the parking stall.
“Well, then we can’t disappoint Miss Mouse, can we? Andiamo!” Then she pointed forward and grinned at me.
My smile hurt my face, and I put the truck into drive and crept across the parking lot to the main road. “Are you using Duolingo to learn Italian?”