Chapter 14
“Grandma? Are you okay?”
After a short pause, Grandma winced. “Did your phone ring?”
Maddie handed her one of the mugs. “I didn’t get it. My hands were full.” She gave her a mug. “Your lavender blend. One of my favorites.”
The woman set down the small book and stared, stupefied, at the tea, as if she wasn’t sure why she’d accepted it. “Who was on the phone?”
“I don’t know.” Had Grandma been napping while sitting up, gazing blankly into space?
“It probably was Brandon, confirming our meeting at the town hall tomorrow.” Maddie sat in the chair by the bed and sipped from her mug.
“Do you think we’ll be able to stock your teas in the bookshop?
” she asked, hoping the thought of being included in the venture would bring Grandma’s senses back.
The narrow shoulders slowly raised and lowered in a shrug. Then she promptly stood up. “I need to use the bathroom.” She brushed past Maddie, handing her the mug as she went.
After sitting for several minutes, Maddie juggled the mugs, got up, went back to the living room, and sat on the couch. She’d had odd conversations with her grandmother on occasion, so she wasn’t shocked.
“I had a who-zie,” Grandma said when she finally emerged.
“A what?”
“A who-zie-what-zie. When you came into the bedroom I’d just had one of those. It’s what you get when somebody walks over your grave. A premonition thing. Intuition. Whatever you call it.”
The chill Maddie felt earlier found her spine again.
“Your mother used to get them, too,” Grandma added.
So do I, Maddie refrained from sharing.
With a tired sigh, Grandma flopped down next to Maddie. “That corner looks strange with nothing in it.” She nodded in the direction of where the Christmas tree had stood.
“I’ve ordered a nice chair for there. But, Grandma? What do you think your who-zie-what-zie meant?”
Another narrow-shouldered shrug. “Dunno. Something dark, usually. Something bad. Maybe I’m finally going to keel over for good.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maddie said. She wondered if Grandma’s premonition could have been about the bookshop, and if Maddie should start to take the family psychic tendencies more seriously.
“Okay, I probably won’t keel. The who-zies usually turn out to be nothing, anyway. ‘Much ado about nothing,’ Hannah used to say. Then she’d make tea and we’d forget about it.” She lifted her mug from the coffee table and raised it, as if toasting her long-deceased daughter.
“Not to change the subject,” Maddie said, which was exactly what she intended, “but do you think I’m being foolish to open a bookshop?”
“No more foolish than I was to start weaving baskets for a living. Course, we didn’t need as much back then.
Before Butchie died, we fished for food or grew our own; we chopped wood to heat this place, and packed seaweed around the foundation to keep the wind and the dampness out.
I made most of our clothes. But there was gas to put in Orson, and an electric bill to pay, cuz in Menemsha, we had it thirty or more years before they had it in Aquinnah, who didn’t get theirs until right before you were born. ”
Maddie wasn’t sure—again—if she should correct Grandma, if she should tell her she wasn’t her daughter but her granddaughter. There was little harm in the mistake, but maybe she should coerce Grandma to see a doctor, too.
“You mean it wasn’t long before Hannah was born,” she said, testing her.
Grandma squinted. “Well, yes.”
Then Maddie’s phone rang again; her neck tightened. She quickly picked it up, and saw that it was Rex.
Giving Grandma a quick wave, she headed to her bedroom, relieved to hear his voice.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you having fun?”
“Hi yourself. Yup, it’s great. Today we went to Malibu and watched them film a movie Annie wrote.
It was fun. Her place is in the Hills—it’s really nice, but cooler than we expected.
When we got back from Malibu, Kevin went in the pool and nearly froze to death.
Early tomorrow he and I are renting motorcycles and going on an adventure. ”
“What about Francine and Jonas?”
“They’re taking the kids to Disney’s Hollywood Studios.”
She laughed. “I’d rather be with them than on a motorcycle.”
“Nah, you’d love it here.”
“How’s Annie?”
“Good! But I think she misses the Vineyard. She says the traffic here makes summer in Edgartown feel deserted.”
Again, Maddie wondered if Annie would be moving back.
“So, how’re you?” Rex asked. “Ready for the big meeting tomorrow?”
They talked about the bookshop; Maddie gave him a rundown of the questions she planned to ask.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just sign the lease and worry about the rest later.”
He had faith in her. She still didn’t know how that had happened. Or why, if there was a why.
“Yes, sir,” she said with a small laugh. “By the time you return I’ll be in debt up to my eyeballs.”
“Great! You’ll be like the rest of us! We’ll celebrate. I’ll take you to the diner for breakfast.”
“Breakfast? But I don’t live in Edgartown. How early will I have to wake up to make it there for breakfast?”
“Good point. Maybe you should come to my place the night before so we’ll be on time.”
She liked his suggestion.
Later, after they’d hung up, Maddie felt confident about the town hall meeting and pretty sure it was why he’d called: He’d wanted her to know he was supportive.
Which made her feel confident about him and about them.
Maybe it really was the start of a relationship.
She wondered when, or how, she’d know for sure.
“Argh!” she moaned, wondering if anyone had created dos and don’ts for becoming a couple after forty, and if she should start googling that.
Refusing to give in to exasperation, she decided to find out if Grandma wanted dinner yet. But when she went into the living room, Grandma wasn’t there. A quick check found that she’d retreated to her bedroom, and was now under the covers, snoring.
Chilmark Town Hall was, as Grandma described it, “within spittin’ distance of the community center, the school, the library, the cop station, the fire guys, and the new ambulance building—all right there at Beetlebung Corner where State, Menemsha, Middle, and South roads collide.”
Brandon’s truck was already in the lot when Maddie arrived. Glancing in the mirror, she checked her lipstick, smoothed the skirt of her tailored navy suit, and hoped they didn’t hold her attire against her.
“You look like a schoolmarm,” Grandma had said, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh.
“I want to look professional.”
“Why? You already have the go-ahead. All they want’s your signature. And your check.”
In the academic world, appearances mattered, which wasn’t fair because not every woman could afford—or wanted—to shop at high-end clothing stores. Still, sometimes—like now—Maddie felt she made a better impression if she wore what she thought were respectful clothes.
By the time Grandma made the comment, it had been too late for Maddie to change.
With her laptop full of lists, a file folder in hand, and the check with the last of her readily available funds that had been earmarked for her retirement, she whispered to her mother to please be by her side. Then she made her way into the building.
She was directed to a small conference room that featured a table too big for the space. Brandon was there, standing, squeezed between the table and a window, looking out. He turned and greeted her.
“Hey, Maddie. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Maddie didn’t ask who “they” were because she supposed that, as Grandma implied about her outfit, it wouldn’t matter.
She nodded, and edged around the table so she and Brandon would be sitting on the same side, an act reminiscent of a college meeting, where the faculty tended to land on one side, administrators on the other.
They waited.
At twenty-five minutes after eleven, a man with shaggy hair entered the room. He wore baggy jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned up to his neck; his added bowtie gave him a few points. Maddie hadn’t met him when they’d presented the proposal and the blueprints.
“Sid Akins,” he said, extending a hand first to Maddie. “You must be Madelyn. Nice to meet you.”
She said it was nice to meet him, too, because that’s what one did. Then she asked him to please call her Maddie.
Clearly Brandon already knew him; they shook hands and said, “Hey, Sid” and “Hey, man, how are you?” as if they were frat brothers, though Sid looked like he had twenty years on Brandon’s forty.
“I’m all you get today,” Sid said as he sat across from them (of course) and set a folder on the table. “Bob and Sheila are wrestling with some problematic road variance papers.” He snickered a friendly snicker, as if pleased that he’d wound up with them and not the problematic road variance.
Nonetheless, Maddie’s palms began to perspire when Sid removed a thick stack of papers from his folder; her stomach coiled into what might rival an official U.S. Coast Guard knot.
Several minutes passed in a blur, as Brandon skimmed one of Sid’s sheets after another, sliding each over to her for her perusal, not that she was capable of digesting the legal mumbo-jumbo. She was glad she trusted Brandon.
The next thing she knew, Maddie had signed in one, two, three places and handed over her check that the Green Hills College Credit Union had required three days to cut but waived the waiting period because it was for Maddie, daughter of Professor Stephen Clarke, professor in her own right.
Perhaps they also knew how she’d be dressed that day.
Given the size of the commitment and the major life-changer it was for her, the fact that the entire procedure took less than thirty-five minutes (after Sid joined them) made it seem anticlimactic.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Brandon asked once Maddie had said, “Thank you,” and “It was nice to meet you,” and Sid had said, “Good luck with the bookshop. I’m sure it will be a winner,” and they’d said good-bye, and she and Brandon left the building.
They stood on the dirt lot outside.
“Well, it didn’t take long,” she said.
“They did their work behind the scenes. It might be a small town, but they know what they’re doing.” He smiled. “How about if I treat you to lunch to celebrate?”
Maddie hadn’t eaten; it was already noon, and the knot inside her had begun to loosen. “Sure. Where?”
Brandon looked around as if expecting to see a restaurant. Then he said, “Not much open up here at this time of year. How about the Black Dog Café in Vineyard Haven?”
It was where she’d gone with Grandma the day before, so at least she knew the way. “Sounds great,” she said, and they got into their respective vehicles and started their ignitions.
But before Maddie drove away she tipped her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes, and tried to take in what had just happened: She was now officially the proprietor of a bookshop for the next five years. Whether she was ready or not.