Chapter 13
Nora
“You’re quiet. You sure you want to do this?”
I blink away my daze and glance over at Elias. His eyebrows are pinched together in concern. My heart softens a little more toward him. Despite his grumpiness, and clear dislike toward me, he is honorable when it comes to Grandma and what she would want.
“I want to see her spot,” I say with a sharp nod. “There’s so much I don’t know about her. Learning these things makes me feel closer to her.”
As we exit his truck parked out in front of The Icehouse, I scan the sparkling deep-blue bay, seeing it with new eyes. Would my grandma watch every boat that came in day after day, year after year, hoping for Grandpa’s return?
It’s sad because he never came back.
Mom always resented her for this, hence why she skipped out of here as quick as she could.
I grew up living the big city life where things moved fast. Everything was much louder than it is here.
When I was old enough to make my own decisions about my summer holiday, I chose my friends in the city over the quiet of the bay.
I took so much for granted.
No more.
I resolve myself to do right by Grandma. If missing the funeral means I’ve been given a unique opportunity to see glimpses into her life I was never privy to, then it’s worth it. No more wallowing in regret and guilt and shame.
I’m going to carefully sift through her belongings, her memories, her past, and do my best to bring respectful resolution to it all. It may take me a month or maybe six. Regardless, I vow to see it through to the end.
Denver won’t be pleased.
But I’m tired of letting what Denver wants direct me on where to go. My gut is telling me to stay for the time being and commit myself to this effort, so I am going to stay.
As I follow Elias into the bar that once used to be my grandfather’s fishing company, I make a quick mental ta-da list. This is more than just fixing up her cottage to sell.
I’m going to honor my grandma’s memory as I clean and renovate her home and I’m going to find good homes for each and every rescue budgie she owned.
What about Clo?
I’m tempted to take him with me back to New York when it’s all said and done, but my gut twists at the idea of taking him away from Elias.
That’s a decision for another day.
As we enter The Icehouse, I inhale the scent of savory fried onion rings. My mouth waters. It’s dark inside, especially after being in the bright sun moments before, but as my eyes adjust, I’m able to make out the décor.
Heavy nautical theme.
My chest tightens. I wonder if any of the nets or other fishing gear hanging on the walls belonged to my grandfather.
The place is swanky like something you’d see in Montauk, but it still has a small-town feel to it.
I believe the owner of this place did right by our family by keeping the original vibes present.
A handsome older guy grins as we approach the bar. He has dark hair and smile lines around his mouth. His eyes twinkle with a mix of mischief and delight. Elias juts a thumb over his shoulder and points to me.
“Goldie’s granddaughter Nora.” Then, Elias looks back at me. “This is the bar owner, Silas Calder. You already met his older brother, the sheriff, and his mom who runs The Nest Box Inn.”
I give the man a polite wave. “Nice to meet you. I hear Grandma had a spot here.”
Silas’s smile softens to a gentle one. “She sure did. Goldie will always have a place here.”
“You’re busy,” Elias says, gesturing at the packed bar. “I’ll show her up there. Bring us the Goldie Special.”
Silas salutes him. “Aye-aye, captain.”
Elias heads for the end of the bar and then disappears down a dark hallway.
I scurry after him, eager to see her place with my own eyes.
We pass several doors that lead to storage rooms, a kitchen, an office, but at the very end is a stairwell.
Elias stops when he reaches the steps and rubs at the back of his head.
“What is it?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
He lets loose a rush of air. “I used to carry her up here. The steps were too steep and dangerous for her.”
My eyes water and my heart cracks down the middle. There’s obvious pain in his words that I feel down to my soul. As angry as he’s made me since coming here, I can’t help but appreciate his love for my grandma. If things weren’t strained between us already, I’d offer him a comforting hug.
“I can walk,” I say quietly. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He nods and then starts up the steps, each movement sluggish and slow as if it’s taking all that’s in him to get to the top. At one point, I reach for his back, the urge to console him so strong, but then jerk my hand away.
There’s a small landing and then the stairs curve around. When we make it to the top, I get a whiff of tobacco and the faint scent of Grandma’s perfume lingering in the air.
Elias steps out of the way, not saying a word, and sweeps a hand across the small area.
It appears to be an old attic or storage room.
There are windows along one side that overlook the bay.
In front of the biggest window is a small, floral fabric covered sitting chair.
Beside that is a round wooden end table with a small lamp, a coaster, and a tobacco pipe laying on its side.
In front of the sitting chair is a mismatched ottoman that’s peach velvet with brass buttons along the side.
Next to the big window is a giant bell the size of my head.
As if he’s been here a million times before, Elias walks over to the far end of the room where a bench sits nestled against the wall.
There’s a small table with another coaster nearby.
His massive frame falls onto the bench as if the trip up the stairs wiped out all his energy.
I note that his eyebrows are pinched as if he’s in pain and his lips are pulled into a slight frown.
Before I get caught witnessing his unapologetic grief, I make my way over to Grandma’s chair. As soon as I sit down onto the comfy cushion, her scent wraps around me like a fog of memories. I stretch my legs out and set my feet on the soft ottoman before letting my gaze rest on the bay outside.
The sounds of the busy bar down below are muted. Seagulls peck at each other outside on the small balcony, their squawks making their way inside.
Heavy footsteps thud up the stairs and soon Silas enters the room. In each hand he has a tall glass of tea with three cut lemons hanging off the lip of each glass.
He sets one down on the coaster beside me and then does the same for Elias. Then, Silas crosses his arms over his chest as he scrutinizes me.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks. “An order of onion rings?”
I shake my head. “This is good for now. Thank you.”
“She was a good woman,” Silas says, voice low and gritty. “We all loved her. Just thought you should know that.”
His words bring tears to my eyes. I can’t look at him as he leaves or I’ll start full-on sobbing.
To distract myself, I snatch up the tea and take a huge gulp.
It’s sweet and cold and just the right amount of lemon.
I’m thrown back to the past summers as a kid where I’d play hard in the heat of the day outside until Grandma would force me inside to drink some of her cold sweet tea. The flavor is exactly as I remember it.
“I thought you didn’t like sugar,” I say after savoring another long gulp.
Elias grunts. “It should be called the Elias Special because there’s no sugar in mine.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘un-special.’”
“Pretty sure un-special isn’t even a word.”
I smirk at him. “It is now.”
If he’s annoyed, he doesn’t let on, just keeps his eyes on the bay.
I let my gaze linger a little too long on his profile.
Despite his general calm nature, when he’s not actively riling me up, there’s a wildness to him that draws me in.
It’s the unpredictability of it that intrigues me.
Like he’s a mystery that’s waiting to be unraveled.
Back in the city, there’s no mystery. With social media and places like LinkedIn, you can immediately pull a profile on someone new within seconds without ever having to ask them a question about themselves.
With Elias, you have to ask questions.
And he may refuse to answer them.
It’s both thrilling and a little maddening all at once.
“What did she do up here?” I ask after setting the tea glass down to inspect the pipe. “Would she sit up here a lot?”
Elias drains his glass and then rises to his feet. “She visited a lot, especially toward the end.” He gestures at my feet. “Mostly she looked at the water and read her letters.”
I frown as I realize the ottoman must have storage. “In there?”
“Yep. I need a refill and Silas seems pretty busy. I’ll check and see if he needs help. Take your time.”
I’m pretty sure it’s just an excuse to give me my privacy, but I gratefully accept it. I put my feet on the ground on either side of the ottoman and then lift the seat up. Inside, neatly stacked and bundled, are lots of postcards and unsealed letters.
They’re all addressed to Amos Everhart and bear stamps from over the years. I quickly thumb through an unbound stack, marveling over the time Grandma must’ve spent handwriting all of them. Unfortunately, though there’s a return address listed under her name, there’s not an address listed under his.
No wonder Mom ran away from all this, and Grandma kept a tight lid on it whenever I was around.
The emotions are heavy around my grandfather.
Most of the postcards are just updates about local people, businesses, and festivities.
Something tells me the letters inside the envelopes are more personal.
They’ve all been carefully ripped open despite never having been sent anywhere.
I untie some twine holding a bundle together and fish out a letter from one of the envelopes.
Amos,
I got into an argument with one of Wayne Harker’s kids today. They had the audacity to be selling neglected budgies from a street corner. It reminded me of the time we ran into him all those years ago on Wing Whirr Way. That started my rescue right then and there. You funded it.
This time, I funded my rescue myself, but I didn’t have you to pull me back from turning vicious. I told them they were rotten apples who didn’t fall far from a diseased tree. As soon as I said it, I regretted those choice words. Oh, Amos, I’m a mess without you.
Come home to me and Sandy. She’s got your eyes, you know. They’re electric like a neon sign. Beautiful.
Anyway, I’ll keep the light on for you and chocolate covered strawberries in the fridge.
Love you and see you soon,
Goldie
I sniffle as I carefully fold the letter up and tuck it back into the envelope. The love she had for him was deeper than any ocean. It was a lasting love, too, carrying her long into her elderly years and finally to death.
Denver chooses this moment to call. I stare at his face plastered on my phone screen and feel numb. The soul-consuming love Grandma had for my grandfather feels foreign. Ease, comfort, and affection are how I feel for Denver.
It’s just not the same.
Again, and not for the first time since I landed here in Budgie Bay, I’m left questioning what to do about it.
I send the call to voicemail.
It’s a problem for another day.