Chapter 12
TWELVE
Caitlin was crouched down, examining the children’s display of cranberry-themed puzzles, books, and toys in the gift shop at the farm when a young boy came up beside her.
“Hi. Do you need a basket?” he asked, extending one to her.
Noticing he was wearing a cap that had the farm’s name and logo printed on it, Caitlin deduced the helpful child was probably Lily’s son.
She was only holding two small items—a recipe book and a bag of cranberries—but she accepted the basket and said, “Thanks. This will come in handy once I decide what to buy for my niece and nephews. Do you have any ideas about what they might like?”
He cocked his head and wrinkled his freckled nose. “How old are they?”
“The boys are four and seven, and my niece is almost six. I’m looking for something small that I can mail to them.”
“That harvesting game is small.” He pointed to a deck of cards. “You have to try to match all the same cards with the same number of berries, and the person with the most pairs wins.”
“Hmm, that is small enough to fit in an envelope, and it’s educational, too,” said Caitlin. “The only problem is my four-year-old nephew can’t count very high yet, and he’d probably bend the cards. Is there anything easier and more durable you think they’d like?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and pulled a large box from the lower shelf. “This is called Frog in a Bog. It’s a jumping game.”
“Now that sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, and it’s good for all ages. Even my stepdad, Jake, likes to play it,” he said. “’Cept it’s probably too big to send in the mail.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to bring it to them in my suitcase, instead,” she said. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome. You want me to carry it for you? It won’t fit in that basket.”
Caitlin chuckled. “That would be awesome.”
A burly blond man with a ready smile was standing at the cash register. He took the box from the boy, who darted away as quickly as he’d appeared. “Ah, I see Ryan gave you the hard sell on Frog in a Bog,” he said to Caitlin.
“He was very convincing,” she answered, handing him the recipe book and cranberries, as well. “He told me even grown-ups like to play it.”
“Guilty,” Jake acknowledged with a laugh. “Although fair warning, the game can get rambunctious. My wife doesn’t allow Ryan and me to play it indoors.”
Caitlin smiled; she could see why Lily had fallen hard for this good-natured, good-looking man, who clearly loved her son. “Speaking of your wife, is Lily here today?”
“She’s in the kitchen, teaching a class. I think she’ll be done in about ten or fifteen minutes, if you want to wait to talk to her,” he said. “Or maybe I can help you?”
“No, thanks, I’m all set. I just wanted to say hello to her.” She extended her hand. “My name’s Caitlin Hines, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Caitlin. I’m Jake Benson,” he replied. “I’ll be sure to pass along your greetings to Lily.”
A few moments later, as she tramped back to the bus stop carrying her purchases, Caitlin reflected on how much had changed over the course of a few weeks.
The first time I visited the farm, I was dressed incognito because I was so worried someone would recognize me and bring up Nicole’s drowning.
The second time I came here, that’s exactly what happened—and I practically passed out when I was confronted by Claire.
But just now, I made a point of telling Jake my first and my last name.
To her, that was a sign of huge progress.
Granted, she was favorably biased toward Jake because she liked his wife, Lily, so much, but Caitlin had still surprised herself by proactively introducing herself to him.
It’s not as if I’ll be giving windmill tours and dinner parties at the cottage any time soon , she thought, tongue-in-cheek .
But it’s a relief to feel a little more comfortable about going out in public on Dune Island again.
On the Monday morning before Thanksgiving, Caitlin tried again to reach Tobias, but the call went straight to voice mail.
Unsure whether his assistant still had access to his cell phone, she hesitated to leave a specific message.
So she expressed concern about his mother, wished him a happy Thanksgiving, and said, “I look forward to talking when it’s convenient for you. ”
It’s not December yet , she tried to console herself after hanging up. Even if the hospital intends to start the feasibility study at the beginning of the New Year, there’s still plenty of time for them to interview consultants before the holidays.
She popped out for a walk, just as Shane was coming around the corner. “Good morning.” he said, his smile causing her to forget her worries. “Nice weather for a walk.”
“Yeah, it’s a little warmer than last week.”
“Enjoy it while you can. Supposedly, we’re in for a harsh winter, with record-breaking cold temperatures this December,” he reported. “Although I don’t think we’ll get any snow until after the new year, so you’ll be gone by then.”
To Caitlin’s surprise, she felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving. “Unless it’s so cold before Christmas that the ocean freezes and I’m stranded here till spring.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He looked her in the eyes so intently she felt as if he seriously wanted to know what she thought about that possibility.
“No, it wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. “Although it’s not very realistic.”
“The ocean freezing or you staying till spring?”
She chuckled. “Both.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” He rubbed his hands together and then blew on his bare fingers. “So, I hear you’re going to Marion’s for Thanksgiving, too.”
“ Too? ” She echoed. Was there no end to her neighbor’s attempts to push them together? Not that Caitlin really minded. “Marion invited you for Thanksgiving?”
“You sound shocked.”
“That’s not it. I just assumed you’d be spending the holiday with Joyce and Sammy. Or visiting your parents in South Carolina.”
“No. Joyce takes Sammy to see his paternal grandparents in Maine. Since my parents live so far away, my sister and I take turns visiting them for the holidays. She’s got Thanksgiving this year, and I’ll get to see them at Christmas,” he explained.
“Marion knew I’d be alone, so she was kind enough to invite me to join her family for a what she promised will be a delicious feast—including two kinds of pie made by my favorite baker, apparently. How could I say no to that?”
He gave her a huge grin and Caitlin wondered what part of Marion’s invitation he’d found so appealing, the food or the company?
“Well, I’m very glad you’ll be there, too,” she said. In fact, I’m a lot happier about it than I probably should be…
Caitlin was heading up Marion’s walkway when Shane’s truck came down the street, so she waited for him to park and join her.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” they greeted each other at the same time.
“What have you got there?” he asked, referring to the covered glass bowl she was carrying.
“Homemade cranberry sauce.”
“What, no pies?” He looked despondent.
“Don’t worry, I dropped them off yesterday,” she answered and they continued to the front steps.
“Risky move. Someone might have dug into them already.”
“That’s fine—as long as it wasn’t Pepper.” She motioned to the platter in Shane’s arms. “What did you bring?”
“Appetizers. Shrimp cocktail and crabcakes with lemon garlic aioli. It’s sort of a Dune Island Thanksgiving tradition.”
“Wow. I’m impressed you know how to make crabcakes.”
“Don’t be.” He leaned closer and whispered, “These are from Captain Clarke’s.”
“Not Ahab’s?”
“Nope. Ahab’s makes the best chowder, but Captain Clarke’s is my go-to for crabcakes.” He joked, “I don’t like to brag, but as a single guy who rarely cooks for himself, I dine out a lot and I consider myself to be something of a seafood restaurant connoisseur.”
“Oh, really? Then in your opinion, where would you suggest I go for the best lobster?”
“To Maine,” he deadpanned.
“You’re just biased because you grew up there,” she ribbed him.
“Nope, I’m telling it like it is. You can’t find better lobster anywhere than in Maine.”
“I’ve heard that Captain Clarke’s makes an awesome lobster roll,” argued Caitlin.
“If that’s true, it’s only because they serve lobsters that swam here from Maine.”
Caitlin could’ve stood on the doorstep kidding around with Shane for the entire holiday, but he rang the bell and immediately Pepper started barking. A moment later, Marion opened the door and a delectable aroma wafted out.
“Hello, hello,” she said cheerily. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
As soon as the pair stepped inside, Marion’s son, Darren, and his wife, Jeannine, introduced themselves, offering to hang their coats and carry Caitlin’s bowl and Shane’s platter to the kitchen.
Caitlin instantly felt at ease among them, and the conversation flowed freely as the adults put the finishing touches on the meal and the children set the table.
When there was nothing left to do except wait for the turkey to finish roasting, the children took Pepper for a walk, while the adults indulged in drinks and appetizers.
The crabcakes were as delicious as Shane had indicated they’d be, and Caitlin found it difficult to exercise self-restraint and limit herself to two. In between bites of the tender seafood, she nibbled on the crudités that Jeannine had prepared.
Shortly after the adults finished snacking, the children returned, bright-cheeked and smelling of salty air. “Are you going to put lights on your windmill?” Finn, the youngest, asked Caitlin. “You could get the most votes.”
“The most votes?” she repeated.
Jordan, the middle child chimed in, “Yeah, for the Shine-Your-Light contest.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a contest to see who has the best lights. And people come to your house and sing and you give them candy and cookies, or rugelach and hot chocolate.”