Chapter 10
His countenance was sensible, and his address was particularly gentlemanlike. —Sense and Sensibility
Edward
Once again, the food is sublime. The potatoes in my corned beef hash are salty, crunchy, golden perfection. Brandon decides on the steak and eggs and Pepper selects the waffles with berries and cream—probably inspired by the otter sketch. The food is high quality at a fair price point.
I marvel at how Elinor manages this cafe.
Even though Maggie Greenwood plans the menu and does most of the cooking, I have a hunch that the quality, consistency, and value have a lot to do with Elinor.
When she finally started reviewing the Norland Park accounts, my mom was pleasantly surprised by how much money the property brings in despite a shoestring budget.
I would love to see what Elinor could do with proper funding.
“So how do you know these two?” Elinor asks me after checking in on us mid-meal.
“Brandon was captain of my lacrosse team.”
“Lacrosse!” She slaps her forehead. “Of course!”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve been trying to guess your sport. My first guess was tennis.”
“Oh no, I’m garbage at tennis,” I admit. “Such a disappointment to my mom—she’s obsessed with the sport.”
“Dad says Edward is the one who gave me Tobias” Pepper volunteers, gesturing towards me with a winning smile.
“Tobias?” Elinor asks, her face softening.
“A baby gift,” I explain. This is not the time to bring up Pepper’s mother.
“Tobias is my third favorite stuffie. I almost brought him on this trip.”
“And who’s your favorite?” asks Elinor.
“Brutus the Attack Bunny. He’s at the cottage.”
“Ah, keeping things safe, I’m sure,” says Elinor with a smile.
“Yep!” She turns to her dad. “She understands.”
“How long are you staying here?” Elinor asks.
“A month,” Brandon answers.
“Wonderful,” Elinor exclaims with real delight. I feel a spasm of jealousy. Which is ridiculous—she doesn’t date tourists, and Brandon famously hasn’t dated since his wife’s accident. I suppose I’m envious of anyone who gets to be near Elinor. I’m already thinking of excuses to come back next week.
“Are you writing a book?” she asks Pepper.
The little girl looks at Elinor as if she has two heads. “I’m nine! Far too young to be writing a book. I need to live a little before I write anything. For now, I’m gathering material.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Elinor answers with a straight face, but her eyes spark with amusement. She looks up at me, and a smile passes between us. Then she seems to catch herself, her expression tightening as she turns away to another table.
“How long are you here for?” Brandon asks.
“I’m driving back to the city this afternoon. But I think I’ll be back next week for business.”
Brandon’s eyes flick to Elinor busily taking orders from a table of backpackers. “Business,” he repeats with meaning.
“I like her,” says Pepper.
Me too, I think. Me too.
***
I glance at my watch; it’s almost ten. Elinor’s shift will be over soon. I’m waiting for her in the shaded common area just outside the cafe.
Taking a seat at one of the picnic tables, I get the uncomfortable feeling of being the new kid on the first day of school with no one to sit by at lunch.
I don’t like how much I stick out. I purposely dressed down—no suit today—but somehow my chinos, button-down shirt, and leather boots still feel a little fussy.
I envy how easily Brandon fits in. He’s always been better at slipping under the radar. Most people wouldn’t guess he comes from money.
When my mom learned that I was friends with the son of Howard and Wendy James, she immediately asked if he had a sister I could marry. She was disappointed to discover he’s an only child.
I have no idea where my mom got this idea that I should marry into an “important” family.
I suspect that growing up she never quite fit in with the old money crowd, and it tickled her to no end when I started making friends with the children of the kids who rejected her.
What she has never understood is that while I excel at superficial friendships, I’m not that good at having close friends.
I never wanted to invite friends from school over for dinner or to join us on vacation like she wanted.
I’m friendly with a lot of people but only friends with a handful.
“Mind if I sit here?” asks a woman with white wispy hair and bright blue eyes.
“No, not at all.”
“I’m headed out on a three-day backpacking trip,” she explains as she sets her backpack on the table and begins to unload her gear.
“Sounds exciting?” I say, unconvinced.
“Oh it is! I look forward to this trip all year. I always camp the night before and after at Norland Park.”
“You must really like this place.”
“Yes—don’t you?” She clocks my shiny boots. “Or is this your first time staying here?”
“I was here once years ago as a kid. I came back to see if it was as magical as I remembered.”
“And . . . ?” she asks. I look up through the green branches of the redwoods. I can see that it’s a bright blue sky far above the canopy of trees. But down here, sheltered by layers of lacy green boughs, it’s the golden hour all day long.
“I think it might be.”
“Oh, it is,” she says with certainty as she tightly rolls a fleece and stuffs it back into her pack. “There’s no place like Norland Park. And do you know why?”
“The incredible scenery?”
“Nope.” She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “There are lots of resorts and motels along Highway One. It’s the Greenwoods. They’re what make this place so special. Have you met them?”
“Actually . . . I’m waiting to meet Elinor Greenwood.”
“Lucky you,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.
“Then you know what I mean about the Greenwoods. They have this special quality that makes you feel like you matter. Sometimes in a place like this, where the natural world is so big, you can feel lonely—a good sort of lonely, if you know what I mean.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I do.
“But after a while, the loneliness gets to you. That’s why I come back here. The Greenwoods—they’ve created a community where everyone belongs. Everyone feels wanted and loved, and it’s wonderful. There’s not enough of that in the world.”
“Do you want to help us build the world’s best sandcastle?
” Elinor’s question echoes in my mind. She was always inviting other kids to help us dig holes or haul buckets of water.
Each new child was accepted as an important and valued member of the sandcastle committee—or fort building, or whatever adventure we might be up to that day. We all looked to her for directions.
Whenever I work on a group project I think longingly of that summer of building sandcastles with strangers and the easy good will and cooperation of young children. Why can’t all group projects go so smoothly?
I am beginning to suspect that the magic ingredient was Elinor. She has a low-key form of leadership. She’s the antithesis of my boss, Ms. Steele, who flatters and threatens and picks favorites.
At the thought of Lucinda, the potatoes from breakfast sit heavy in my stomach. She will not take kindly to my plan to alter the proposal in order to save Bumble Cottage. Likewise, this friendly woman chatting with me would be horrified with the changes I’ve already signed off on.
“You’re right. I’ve never been to another place like this,” I say.
“And you won’t find another,” she says, returning a bag of protein bars to the top of her pack.
“Too many resorts cater to the rich. I’m a retired nurse.
Do you think I can afford those places? I just hope Norland Park survives.
I hear there’s a new owner.” I nod along, coward that I am.
There’s no way I’m going to tell her that the new owner is my mother.
“I hope they do the right thing—whoever they might be,” she says.
And the way she looks at me with her sharp blue eyes makes me fear that she can see right through me.
“We can only hope,” I reply with hardly any hope at all.
My new friend lifts up her pack. It looks heavy and unwieldy in comparison to her small build. I jump up to help her, but I’m not fast enough. She deftly puts it on, then clips the waist belt and adjusts the straps.
“Off I go on another adventure!” she says with such genuine excitement that I briefly reconsider my firm personal stance against sleeping on the ground.
“Have a great hike!” I wave to her with excessive zeal partly fueled by guilt. I turn back around to see Elinor standing a few feet behind me, trying her best not to laugh.
“You just couldn’t tell her, could you?”
“I prefer people to like me, and that lady’s convinced the new owner’s a villain.”
“And are you?” she asks with a cheeky smile.
“I’m not the owner. My mom is.”
“Uh huh. But you were sent on her behalf. Or did your boss send you?”
“My boss?”
“Yes, Lucinda Steele of Steele Properties, a company that specializes in developing luxury resorts. I did some research last night.” Her look hardens. “I’m guessing that has something to do with your visit.”
“Well . . . um . . .” I sit back down on the bench. “My company is looking into developing Norland Park. But nothing’s final. I swear.”
“Tell me, Mr. Frechette.” Her dark eyes pin me. “Name one good reason I should take you on a tour of the resort this morning when my time would be better spent looking for a job.”
I swallow.
“One, my mom hasn’t sold the park yet. And two, the proposed project is in the planning stages—I still have time, and possibly some influence, to change it. I promise, I was planning on talking to you about it this morning, but you were gone.”
“And you—you were the charm offensive sent to win me over, weren’t you?” She sits down on the bench next to me, but not too close. “I feel so dumb.” She puts her head in her hands.
“No—it was nothing like that,” I say. “It’s more like you won me over.”
“Cut the flattery.”
“It’s not flattery. I’m being honest. I want to make this work. I don’t have a lot of sway with my mom, but I have some. I’ve only been here a short time, and I can already see that no one loves or cares about this place as much as you do. You said you had ideas. I want to hear them.”
“It’s probably a waste of my morning,” she lets out a huff of air. “But after dedicating my entire working life to this park, I’m not going to roll over and let you and your family destroy it.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do, I promise”
“Sorry if I don’t believe a businessman when he says he doesn’t want to make piles of money.”
“You’re not wrong. But I think there’s a way to make this work for everyone. Improve returns without losing what makes Norland Park special.”
“And maybe you could cut the crap.”
“I’m serious. Please, Elinor—show me your vision for the park. And I will do everything I can to make it happen.”
She gives me an incredulous look and then one brief business-like nod.
“Fine, let’s go.”
“Great—thank you.” I jog a little to catch up with her. “Hey, do you really think I’m charming?” She gives me a very adorably annoyed look. “You did call me ‘the charm offensive.’”
She rolls her eyes. “Follow me.”
I’ve just made an impossible promise to this woman which will likely jettison my career and hurt my relationship with my mom. And yet, following Elinor down a shady trail, I’ve never felt lighter.