Chapter 11 #2
Scanning the room, Maddie noticed one person who did not seem thrilled: her father.
He’d backed away from the group and was standing in the doorway by the hallway, watching Francine and Jonas, Evelyn and Brandon start to dance.
And Lisa, who had persuaded Grandma to dance with her.
The other partygoers were clapping to the beat.
Stephen watched them all, but Maddie knew the smile he wore was fake.
He obviously wasn’t pleased with her impending career change.
So chances were, he wouldn’t want any part of it.
“Dad?” Maddie asked after they’d all been glued to the new TV, the ball had successfully dropped in Times Square, and Rex had sent Kevin, Francine, and Jonas across the creek to his cabin for the night (no sense driving on the dark roads back to Chappy).
The other guests also were gone; Rex had finished cleaning the kitchen (because he couldn’t help himself), kissed Maddie on the cheek, wished Rafe and Stephen a Happy New Year, and gone out the door, too, saying he hadn’t packed yet, and they were leaving in the morning.
As for Grandma, she’d retired to her squeaky springs an hour before midnight.
Stephen had turned off the music and was sitting across from the fireplace; he’d told Rafe to use the guest room, that he wanted to sleep where he could watch the embers die. So Rafe retreated, leaving Maddie and her father alone.
“Dad?” she repeated.
“Nice party,” Stephen replied, his gaze fixed on the simmering logs. “Nice people.”
She turned from him and went to the Christmas tree, its bulbs casting their soft rainbow of colors, which, with the radiance from the fireplace, provided the only light left in the room.
The next day, their holiday time would end; as was their tradition, they’d take the tree down, leaving only a lingering aroma of balsam that would last a couple of days.
By then Rafe would be back on the mainland (or wherever he’d go with Owen and “the stepfamily” this year).
Her father also would be gone, and Maddie would be left to figure out how to open a bookshop without his interest or his help.
She sat beside him on the sofa and looked into the embers, too.
“You don’t seem very excited about Rex’s announcement.” She saw no reason to ease into the topic.
Stephen paused, carefully choosing his words, as he always did. “I was surprised. That’s all.”
“Not in a good way?” she wanted to ask but instead waited for him to continue.
The logs crackled, the tree glimmered in silence.
“I’d hoped you’d come home,” he finally said.
“I’d hoped that after the renovations were done on this place, after you had your grandmother situated again, that you’d come back to Green Hills and get on with the life you’d worked so hard for.
I hoped you’d check in on your grandmother and visit her sometimes, maybe in the summer like you used to do.
But …” His words trailed off, drifting up the flue like a wisp of smoke.
She shifted on the cushion. “And I’d hoped if I had a bookshop it would encourage you to spend more time here,” she replied, “that it might be something we could do together. I didn’t expect you to move here, but …
” Her words then followed his, disappearing into the night as unsettling words between them often did.
After another minute, he patted her knee. “All I want, Madelyn—all I’ve ever wanted—is for you to be happy.”
She did not pull her gaze from the embers.
“After Rafe graduates, he wants to live here, Dad. He wants to be part of the heritage he never knew. But I’ll come back and spend time with you.
Rafe and I both will. After Grandma’s gone, well …
I’m learning to take things as they come.
” She didn’t mention if she thought Rex would be in her future, because she didn’t know.
Stephen’s eyes glided from the fireplace up to the mantel, to the painting of the Menemsha sunset Hannah had painted, the one with the silhouettes of young Maddie and Grandma Nancy strolling on the shoreline.
He sighed. “The only suggestion I have for you is to go to bed. You must be tired from all the work to make the party such a success. We’ll talk more about your plans another time.
Meanwhile, I’ll leave tomorrow, after we take the tree down.
I need to get my feet back on dry land.” Stephen’s “another time” often meant never. Especially when emotions were involved.
With that, Maddie gathered a comforter and a pillow for her father and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Then she went down the hall toward her new bedroom, removed her winter-white clothes and beautiful wampum jewelry, climbed into her flannel pajamas, and did as she’d been told.
Maddie slept late. When she finally made her way into the living room, she was greeted by the aroma of fresh coffee.
Rafe was standing at the tree, slowly removing one delicate ornament at a time, wrapping each in tissue and nestling it in its proper box.
Grandma Nancy was in her new robe and standing near him, supervising.
Through the window, Maddie saw winter-blue sky; the air looked peaceful, in post-holiday silence.
Her father must have walked down to the beach, in spite of their family tradition to disassemble the tree together.
“Happy New Year!” Rafe said merrily. “Coffee’s on the stove. And fresh cranberry muffins from Orange Peel Bakery.”
“You already went out this morning?”
“Um, yup,” Rafe said.
“He took your father to the boat,” Grandma said. “He decided to leave early cuz there’s a storm brewing in western New York that he wanted to beat.”
Maddie glanced at the couch, where the pillow rested atop the comforter, which was folded neatly.
Her first thought was that her father’s reason might have been a white lie.
Maybe he and Grandma sniped at each other this morning over something meaningless.
Or maybe he simply was tired of the gnawing loss of Maddie’s mother and her ghostly presence everywhere.
Then she remembered the bookshop. And his reaction.
She’d been annoyed that Rex spread the news as a done deal before her father had been told it was a possibility.
Once Rex was back from California, she’d mention that she wished he hadn’t done that.
But there was no reason to argue; he’d been excited and wanted to share the joy with people he cared about and who cared about Maddie.
She sighed, then raised a hand and pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“As long as you two have the tree under control,” she said, “I think I’ll go for a run.” She lifted her chin and offered a weak smile. “Save me a muffin?” She retreated to her bedroom without waiting for an answer.
After changing into her running clothes and sneakers, she headed out, jogging up the slope to the parking place behind the cottage. She raced down Chowder Kettle Lane toward North Road, where she took a right, moving faster with each step, trying to escape the questions bouncing in her mind.
Should she really open the bookshop?
Or should she go back to Green Hills, where her father clearly thought that she belonged?
And … had she been fooling herself into thinking he’d want to be part of her adventure? Had it made her feel less guilty for abandoning him?
She reached Arnie’s Bait sheets of cardboard were duct-taped to the windows.
Like summer traffic, Arnie had left, but the structure still stood, waiting for her to make up her mind, now that the town fathers and mothers had made up theirs.
All she had to do was sign on the dotted line.
“Arrrrgh!” she bellowed, stirring the still air.
Finally giving up, she pivoted toward the hill off Basin Road that led up to the front of the cottage. Then she walked, because running did not resolve a single thing; that day, it only made her calf muscles sore.
When the cottage came into view, she spotted Rafe through the big, new windows, standing where the tree had been. Like Arnie—and her father, and their guests—the tree was gone now, too.
With a resigned sigh, she stepped onto the first granite slab at the front door. As always, she glanced down as she ascended, being careful not to trip. Which was when she saw an envelope sticking out from under the top step.
Her hand started to tremble as she reached to grab the envelope. Like before, bold printing on the outside read: MADDIE. She ripped the seal open. Again, a single sheet of paper was inside. It had large black felt-tip letters that read:
WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?