A Sea Change (4 page)

Elbows on the windowsill, Nick stared out across the beach, but couldn’t detect any movement. He recalled her unorthodox solution to the problem of unloading the boat and smiled. “Maybe the porch light is on, but it’s just a little dim,” he said, and straightened up.

He grimaced as he brought the mug to his lips. It tasted like some kind of funky medicine that his mouth got used to after a couple of sips. Nick could never remember all the ingredients – chamomile and passion flower were the only two that ever came to mind – but the stuff always worked to relax him.

Nick turned off the nightlight and took one more look out the window before closing the blinds. He didn’t feel nearly as alone knowing she was up, and he took that small comfort to bed with him.

Chapter
Four

Maddy sat on the couch, her second cup of coffee in her hands, and watched in disgust as rain cascaded over the gutter above the French doors. Water splattered against the sill; not good for the wood. Even worse for the living room carpet which was now turning a darker shade of mauve where the rain seeped in.

“Now you do this?” she said. “You wait all winter, and you pick now to clog up?” How did this happen to a gutter that was nowhere near a tree?

Maddy was not a morning person. She needed the comfort of ritual to get through the business of waking up. When Maddy had opened her tear-swollen eyes the unfamiliar surroundings threw her for a second and she had to think hard about where she was, and why.

It had taken her nearly an hour just to get to this place: on the couch, in her robe, pouring hot coffee down her throat. She’d had to dig through two boxes to find her coffee maker, grinder, and bag of French Roast beans. She didn’t know where breakfast was coming from and, at the moment, didn’t care. All she could think about was that gutter, and the mess it was making.

Maddy finally pulled herself off the sofa, wincing as her hamstrings reminded her of yesterday’s exertions. She tried to focus on where Jaed might keep a step-stool because Maddy was pretty sure she didn’t have anything remotely resembling a ladder. But, then, knowing Jaed she probably didn’t have a stool, either. Maddy eyed a dining room chair. Even if it were tall enough, the rain would ruin the suede seat.

Jaed’s house was small. Living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, tiny office.  None of which had anything sturdy enough to hold her weight, and an unaccustomed feeling of helplessness came over her. She closed her eyes and tried to think. God, a shower would be good right now. But there was no point in doing that if she was going to have to muck around with a stopped-up gutter.

Maddy pushed two kitchen towels against the bottom of the French doors. In the bedroom she reached into her suitcase and put on the first thing her hands touched. Magenta sweat pants followed by a rust-colored tunic. At the front door she donned her red slicker and shoved her feet into the green rubber boots she always wore in the rain. The hat had gone with the wind, but luckily Jaed had left her own under the entry table and Maddy pulled the sou’wester over her head. It was Jaed’s signature color: deep purple.

She stepped onto the porch. The rain hadn’t let up. Although someone had thought to lay down wooden planks in front of the house, the rest of the path was mud. Not sure which way would prove most helpful, Maddy went right.

Rivulets raced down the cliff. Some joined forces to become waterfalls, which flowed into small streams across the path. Maddy slogged through them as she looked left and right. Except for the constant sound of the rain falling, the place seemed deserted.

She’d passed four houses when she spotted a step ladder leaning against an open shed. The door of number 81 had a glass panel but the lace curtain prevented Maddy from seeing inside. She knocked on the glass and waited. The entry wasn’t covered and the wetter she got the more her impatience grew. The faint strains of a Strauss waltz could be heard, and she knocked more loudly.

Maddy had half-decided to just take the ladder, when the music stopped and the door was flung open. The woman who took her by the arm was so tall Maddy had to look up at her.

 “Well, come in, come in! I’ve been expecting you.”

With a gentle tug, Maddy was in the small entryway.

“Take off those wet things.”

She obediently slipped out of her boots, and as the woman helped her off with the slicker Maddy said, “I’m not sure I’m who you think I am.”

The woman hung up Maddy’s things and then turned, an enigmatic smile on her lips. “But of course you are. You’re Jaed’s friend, Madeleine.”

“Yes, I am. But how…”

“Jaed’s hat,” she answered. “But I need to cover the clay.” She was already moving down the hall.

Maddy had to step quickly to keep up with the woman’s long strides. She followed her toward the back of the house and entered a large space, all windows and skylights and terra cotta tile floor. It was visually stunning and Maddy gasped.

A potter’s wheel stood at the far left corner of the room. The woman picked up a damp cloth and placed it over a lump of clay the size of a cabbage.

“There,” she said. She looked over at Maddy who beamed in child-like wonder. “Do you like what you see?”

Maddy nodded, still examining the room.

“I’m glad it’s made you smile, Madeleine. I don’t think you’ve done that in a very long time.”

Maddy finally focused on the striking woman. “Call me Maddy.”

“I’m Mary Delfino.” She’d already crossed the floor and stood in front of Maddy. Holding out her gracile hand she said, “I prefer to call you Madeleine. Such a beautiful name when said aloud.”

Maddy took Mary Delfino’s hand in her own. Rough from work, Mary’s hand still felt soothing to Maddy. And the woman somehow seemed familiar.

“Would you like some tea?” Mary didn’t wait for Maddy’s answer, but simply went into the kitchen area of the room and plugged in an electric kettle. “Knowing our friend Jaed, the only tea she’s left you with is one of her own concoctions. Effective, but fairly unpalatable.”

Maddy perched on a tall stool. “Are you a sculptor?”

“No, no. I make pots, vases, bowls. I love the idea of creating something that holds something else. It’s how the world should be. Each of us providing a sanctuary for someone.” She reached into a cupboard and took out a teapot. The glaze was a luminous aquamarine.

Maddy couldn’t take her eyes off the woman as she talked and gracefully prepared the tea. She supposed people would describe her as “handsome.” But to Maddy, Mary Delfino was truly beautiful. There was a stateliness about her softened by her calm, gentle manner.  She was a good six inches taller than Maddy, yet there was nothing angular about her. And there was no way to guess her age. Her face was remarkably unlined, yet her deep blue eyes held the wisdom of several lifetimes. She wore her long, white hair in a braid that reached the middle of her back.

“I hope you like this.” Mary Delfino’s voice held such a lyrical quality that Maddy had to make a conscious effort to comprehend her words. “As far as I’m concerned, this is the only tea in the world.” Maddy smiled inanely as Mary held up a green box with white lettering. “Murchie’s Darjeeling blend. Once a year I make a special trip to Victoria to get my supply. I’m told I can order it through the mail, but what would be the fun in that?” She poured the boiling water over the loose leaves, then turned to Maddy. “Black? Or white?”

“I’m sorry?” Maddy was mesmerized.

“How do you take your tea?”

“Oh, uh – cream and sugar, please.”

The next thing Maddy knew, she was sitting in a wingback chair holding a cup and saucer of the same vivid color as the teapot. She drank and it was heaven.

Mary sat across from Maddy, studying her. Then she asked, “What do you do, Madeleine?”

“I’ll be taking care of Jaed’s business.”

Mary crooked her head to one side, questioning.

“You know,” Maddy continued. “Accounts, brochures, bookings.”

“No, no. What is your passion in life? What do you do?”

Maddy thought for a long moment. No suitable answer seemed forthcoming. She finally said, “What
you
do is very beautiful.”

“Surely there is something you love?”

Maddy shifted in her seat and shrugged apologetically.

“I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” A playful smile came to her lips. “I can also see you dressed very hurriedly. I hope the tea has relaxed you a little.”

“I guess it did.” Maddy smiled back. “I completely forgot why I knocked on your door in the first place. Could I borrow your ladder?”

“Certainly. No need to ask. We all try to share down here on the beach. If you need anything and can’t find the owner, just leave a note.” Mary set her cup on the small table between them. “I hope there’s no danger involved?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just a clogged gutter. And I hate to say this, but I’d better go take care of it.”

The two women stood together at the front door watching the rain. Maddy didn’t want to leave this peaceful place.

“You can come back anytime, Madeleine.”

Maddy looked up in wonder, but Mary still gazed out at the drizzle. “Thank you,” she said.

“Tell me, have you met Nick yet?” Mary asked.

“No. Nick who?” Maddy put Jaed’s hat back on and braced herself for the cold and damp once again.

“We like to call him Nick-of-Time. He very much does it all, and doesn’t charge nearly enough for his services. He can be fairly monosyllabic – there was a time we all wondered if English was his second language – but I happen to know his spirit is quite gregarious. He’s the man to see if you need help with anything. If Nick can’t fix it he’ll find you someone who can.”

“Thanks, but I’m pretty handy myself.”

“You never know, Madeleine. Someday there might be something you’ll need him for.” Mary turned her enigmatic smile on Maddy again. “Just remember. He’s right next door to you. Number seventy-four.”

Maddy nodded and held out her hand, but Mary Delfino’s arms enveloped her in an embrace, and the cool scent of sea air rushed into Maddy’s nostrils. Then, in a whisper, Mary said, “Don’t worry, Madeleine. You’ll find what you’ve lost,” and released her.

Maddy took a backward step into the rain and stared at this uncanny woman. Mary simply smiled and slowly closed the door.

Maddy dragged the six-foot ladder down the footpath. As she neared Jaed’s house she remembered the first time she’d seen it. With the clapboards painted a pale lilac and the trim done in a deeper plum, there had been no doubt in her mind it could be anybody but Jaed’s. It was a beacon of vitality amidst all the other houses’ varying shades of weathered cedar shingles. It had been early summer and Jaed had surrounded the house with planters filled with flowers of every hue on the purple and pink scale, with just a touch of white for relief. Maddy could still recall her first words to Jaed as she greeted her from the deck. Maddy had said, “I want to live here.”

As Maddy stepped onto the porch a fruity voice warbled, “Welcome back, dearie!” She turned. 

A very small, round woman came toward her. She wore a pea coat three sizes too large. The hem of a floral print dress peeked out from underneath, but only enough to cover the tops of her galoshes. The green and white striped golf umbrella she carried in one hand made her look like a mushroom with feet. She held something in her other hand, but Maddy couldn’t make it out.

Maddy set the ladder down. The little woman flapped her umbrella at her like a crazed Mary Poppins. Maddy waved in conditioned response as the vision speedily waddled nearer.

‘The fashion police aren’t doing their job,’ she thought.

And then Maddy realized what she herself looked like and wondered if this was what living on Salmon Beach did to one’s fashion sense.

The dead ringer for Elsa Lanchester came to an abrupt stop and said, “Oh!”

Maddy smiled. “I bet you thought I was Jaed.”

“I’m afraid I did. It was the hat, you see.”

Maddy detected a trace of an English accent.

“It’s okay. I’m Maddy Phillips.”

“Of
course
you are. And I’m Emily DeMille. Number fifty-eight. Having a bit of trouble?”

“Nothing major.”

“Because if you need help, Nick is right over there.” Emily used the umbrella as a very wide pointer. She went on in a conspiratorial tone. “You know, he rescued my C.B. from the crow’s nest yesterday. I always bring him something when he does that.”

Maddy was trying to picture Emily DeMille’s – husband? son? radio? – stuck up high somewhere, and gave up.

“Well, I hope he’s all right,” she ventured.

“Oh, yes. He’s fine. I dried him off and gave him some sardines. I think he does it just so he can get his favorite treat.”

Maddy nodded, totally confused.

“He’s a British Blue, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh dear…when will I learn that not everyone knows cats the way I do?”

“Oh, he’s a cat!” Maddy grinned. “Well, that was very nice of Nick.”

“Wasn’t it?” Emily said cheerily.

“It’s good meeting you, Mrs. DeMille, but don’t you think we’d both better get out of the rain?”

“Would you like a blueberry muffin? They just came out of the oven.”

Emily lifted the lid of the container she carried. A sweet aroma hit Maddy, reminding her she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Her mouth watered as she took one of the warm muffins from the earthenware dish.

“Take two, dearie. Nick won’t miss them. And please call me Emily.”

“Thanks, Emily. I hope I get to meet C.B. soon.”

“Of course you will. We take tea every afternoon at four. Join us anytime.” She smiled broadly before turning back the way she’d come. “And don’t forget,” she called over her shoulder. “Nick is a real life saver!” Emily waggled her umbrella again and trundled off.