Chapter 22
Breakfast turned into a small, but festive, party.
Grandma, Stephen, and Maddie gorged on the flaky croissants while Grandma and Stephen took turns sharing tales of when Maddie was a baby: her first word (oddly, it had been quahog, which she’d spoken clearly one summer when she was about a year old, and they were at Grandma’s); her favorite toy (a Cabbage Patch doll named Lorna that wasn’t exactly a doll for a baby, but her father had bought it and her mother had propped it up on the bureau out of reach and Maddie loved staring at it); the time when the plumber (who was at the cottage fixing something or other) had tickled her under her chin right after she’d had a swallow of creamed turnip, and she instantly upchucked (Grandma’s favorite word back then) all over him.
“A minor offense!” Maddie cried out now with a laugh.
To which Stephen replied: “Speaking of ‘minor’ incidents … and not to put a damper on the morning, but I must digress.” Then his jovial mood tempered.
“While I was out this morning, I checked in at Deke’s.
They heard back from your insurance company, Maddie—your accident was not minor. Your car is being totaled.”
Under the circumstances, yes, her father’s news put a damper on the party.
Especially since Maddie hadn’t told them about the cracked windshield or the air bag going off or the fact that she’d blacked out for a minute.
And now Stephen was understandably upset because he’d seen the car’s crumpled remains.
“Oh,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, not wanting to break their happy mood. “I guess I’ll need to buy another car. I’d better do it fast, because I think the little box I’ve been driving around in is killing my back. Not to mention that keeping it any longer would be wasting money.”
He set down his fork and got serious. “Whatever you get should be a brand-new model, with all the latest safety features—for the baby.”
She smiled.
“And safe for you, too,” he quickly added. “Maybe an SUV?” He stood up. “Wait here,” he said, as if Maddie or Grandma would be going anywhere.
He disappeared down the hall and quickly came back with his laptop. Then he started typing. “How many miles were on the Volvo?”
“A hundred sixty thousand. Give or take.”
“That’s more than I have on me,” Grandma commented, while Stephen’s fingers flicked over the keyboard as if he’d been a techie all his life.
“The car is fifteen years old,” her father continued. “Your insurance might still give you a few thousand dollars for it.”
Maddie lowered her head, her happy mood headbutted by reality again.
“Oh, great,” she sneered, then jerked her chin up.
“Hey! Maybe I can drive Orson. At least until Rafe’s graduation.
” Then she remembered that Orson had a stick shift.
“I can ask Joe to teach me to shift it. In fact, let’s get rid of the rental tomorrow.
I’d rather put the added cost toward buying a new car.
” When she saw Joe next, if he agreed, she’d set up a training time.
“Good idea,” Stephen said, as his fingers kept searching. “Until I have to leave, we can share mine.” Then he stopped typing, sat back in his chair, and groaned. “What with startup costs for the bookshop nearly maxed out, I think we can rule out you buying a new SUV. At least for a while.”
A pall blanketed the room as if a Vineyard skunk had waddled in.
“I can help,” Grandma said. “In fact, I can buy it. Will you let me do that for you, Maddie? And for the baby?”
She wanted to say Thanks, but no thanks.
She wanted to be an independent woman who was going to take responsibility for herself and for her baby and would not need a handout from her ninety-year-old grandmother, most of whose money, Maddie knew, was tied up in island real estate.
She’d rather buy something she could afford.
“Or …” Stephen said, “how about if Nancy and I split the cost? The baby will be joining our family, right? So why not let us buy the vehicle that she’ll be traveling around in?”
Maddie smiled again because it was cute that he’d referred to the baby as “she” instead of “he.” As much as Stephen treasured Rafe, Maddie always thought he’d been happy that he and Hannah had a daughter.
“Are you hoping it’s a girl?” she asked.
He looked like a deer in the proverbial headlights. “Well, no. As long as it’s a healthy baby.”
“Liar,” she teased, swatting his arm, and the mood instantly elevated. “You have a grandson. Now you want a granddaughter, don’t you?”
He grinned and shrugged, and Maddie laughed.
“Girls are expensive,” Grandma chimed in.
“Speaking of which,” Maddie said, “can we go out for dinner later? I’ve been so busy I forgot to go shopping.”
“Great idea,” Grandma said. “Where to?”
“I’ve been secretly craving Asian food and pickles,” the mother-to-be-for-the-second-time said. “Let’s go to Vineyard Haven, but stop at the market first for pickles. They might not be on the menu, and no one should challenge a pregnant lady’s appetite.”
Her father looked stupefied, and Grandma rolled her eyes.
For a little while, it was almost as if they were an ordinary family.
Brunch was so filling, they skipped lunch. Late in the afternoon, they left the cottage in two cars: Maddie turned in the rental, then joined her father and Grandma. After stopping for pickles, they headed to Main Street in Vineyard Haven.
At the Asian restaurant, they joked and laughed and ate, and, at Stephen’s suggestion, they shared sesame seed balls for dessert.
Maddie was amused that her grandmother and her father were acting as if they’d always been pals and not reticent in-laws; she also was happy that she and her father were back to their “old selves,” with no more tension poisoning the air between them.
Then Stephen said, “And now I have another announcement.” He raised his teacup as if in a toast.
“Is it as impressive as having a baby?” Maddie teased.
“Hardly,” Stephen said. “But it’s overdue.
As much as I hate to break up our team, I have to return to Green Hills by April second—I need to prepare a talk for a conference in Worcester the following week.
They’re calling it, ‘The Future of Liberal Arts Colleges in New England.’” He gave Maddie a small grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention you.”
She returned the grin while shaking her head. Sometimes, Stephen did have a sense of humor she could understand.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I want you to know I’ve loved almost every minute of being here. And I especially hate to leave, what with the baby news. But before I go, I promise that things for the bookshop will be in good shape.”
“Oh, Dad,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine what I—what we—would have done without you. But I’m happy that you’ll speak at the conference. You have so much to give.”
Grandma held her left arm out to her side and, with her right arm, pretended to play the violin.
They all laughed at the gesture.
Then Grandma leaned toward Stephen and said, “This is when you just say, ‘Thanks, Madelyn.’”
So he did.
Then he said, “But I’ll be back in time for the opening, and stay until after my granddaughter’s born.” The “granddaughter” sentiment didn’t go unnoticed.
“Before then, however,” he added, “I’ll see you at Rafe’s graduation.”
“To Rafe’s graduation,” Grandma said, lifting her teacup and clinking with Stephen.
Maddie regretted that she’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t paid more attention to her son or his impending accomplishment, but she was grateful she had people who’d help fill the gaps that she’d created by being so insufferably insufferable. She had a lot to make up for now.
Back at the cottage, Maddie said good night and withdrew to her bedroom. But between too much good food and tea, she had trouble falling asleep.
With only a sliver of moon leaking into the room, she knew it was time to get—and stay—focused on the future.
And though she hoped it would include Rex, she needed to believe that their relationship would take care of itself, and that, no matter what, she and the baby would be fine.
Because, with or without Rex, they would not be alone.
For now, she wanted to move forward; she decided to start with getting rid of those silly notes before someone found them and overreacted. So she sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp, then slid open the drawer and removed the envelopes. She would shred them all to bits.
But first, for no particular reason, she wanted to read the last one.
Determined to confront the pseudo-devil’s anonymous work, she tore open a corner and extracted the sheet of white paper.
The lettering was done in the now-familiar black marker. The message, as with the others, was short:
WHAT PART OF GET OFF THE ISLAND DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?
One day, a boy showed up at the cottage. He was not a little boy, but he was young. Around ten, I think. Cute as a button, with eyes that glittered like polished bronze.
“I can’t find my dad,” he said. He stood at the front door, holding on to the handlebars of his bike for dear life. At least he wasn’t crying.
“Where’d you lose him?” I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders that were broad for his age. “He lives around here somewhere.”
“Got a name?”
“His or mine?”
“Either. Both.”
“He’s Stan. I’m Reginald. But they call me Rex.”
“You want a root beer, Rex?”
The boy scowled. “Thanks, but I can’t take nothing from strangers.”
“My name’s Nancy. Now we’re not strangers. Besides, you knocked on my door, not the other way around. So you want a pop or what?”
He shrugged again. “Okay. Sure.”
I turned and went into the kitchen, where I’d been starting dinner, not that anyone would be there to eat with me. Anyway, it was hot out for October, so I figured the kid could use something cold.
“Thank you, Nancy,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Rex.”
He took a big swig from the bottle as if he hadn’t had a drink since the day before.
“You got kids?” he asked.
“I do! I have a brand-new baby granddaughter.”
“Oh. Nobody bigger?”
“Sorry,” I said, then asked, “Where do you suppose your dad is?”
“I’ve been up here lots of times with him, so I thought I knew the way.”
“But you got messed up?”
“Yup,” he said as if he were a cowboy, which he could have been cuz his skin was too pale to be Wampanoag. Then he took another swig.
“Do you know his phone number?”
“He doesn’t have a phone up here. We only have the one at our house on Chappy.”
I think my eyes got big then. “You rode your bike all the way up-island from Chappy?”
“Yes, ma’am. First time. It doesn’t take as long when we’re in his truck.”
“Okay, if you tell me your last name, there’s a good chance I can track down your dad.”
He looked at me suspiciously again.
“My husband was a fisherman,” I said. “He knows almost everybody around here.” I didn’t mention that I did, too.
The boy sighed, which seemed a funny thing for a kid to do. “Winsted,” he said. “My dad’s Stan Winsted.”
And that was how—and how long ago—that I met Rex.
Now that it looks like Rex and Maddie—who was the brand-new baby way back when—might be getting together for real and forever, they need to know the truth about some things.
Stuff I tried so hard to forget.
And don’t know how to tell them to their faces.