Autumn Dreams (5 page)

But she told no one. She knew what the brothers would say after they picked themselves up off the floor where they’d fallen when weak with laughter. The idea of their baby sister having such a pipe dream was ludicrous. She knew her parents could never help her financially and might not even support her outrageous scheme. She might stand five ten in her stocking feet and weigh twenty-five to thirty pounds too much, but her family still saw her as a little girl to be humored and guided away from her own foolish whims.

So secretly, especially on nights when grading one more essay would make her scream, Cass made plans.

When she had unexpectedly acquired the great white elephant of a house, everyone held the same opinion about what she should do with it.

Sell it.

“You’ll make a bundle,” the brothers said. “The land is worth hundreds of thousands.”

“Wow! What a killing you’re going to make,” her fellow teachers said. “That land is a gold mine.”

They were right, of course. Every inch of land in a small island resort like Seaside had an incredibly high monetary value. But it wasn’t the land that held Cass’s imagination, nor the money it
could bring. It was the big, derelict house two blocks from the sea, the house that made her sing every time she remembered that, miracle of miracles, it was hers. So it became her SeaSong.

“I’m keeping it,” she told everyone and moved in despite the gasps and groans and words of wisdom advising against such an action.

“I’ve been praying about this for a long time, and it’s what I want to do. Why not? I’m single, strong, and motivated.”

“You’re nuts.” No one except the brothers was impolite enough to actually say the words, but she knew what they all thought. She also didn’t care.

Using the house and lot as collateral, she secured a sizeable loan and went to work. She hired men to put on a new roof, electricians to rewire the house and bring it up to code, and plumbers to modernize existing bathrooms and make new ones until each room had its own private facility. She met with a landscaper about making the most of the small corner lot, drawing up plans that she followed herself. She sanded woodwork and painted walls until her arms ached, prowled the entire state for furniture, and searched for and tried out countless recipes for what she hoped would become her signature gourmet breakfasts. And every night as she soaked out the stiffness in the Jacuzzi tub in the second floor turret room, she planned and dreamed. And prayed.

Thank You, God. Thank You! Help me do this right
.

By the time the first summer arrived, the second- and third-floor turret rooms were repaired, repainted, and refurbished, their bathrooms renovated and fully modernized, and Cass rented them out. Because town laws and regulations prohibited building during the high tourist months—those who were the town’s lifeblood must not have their vacation rest disturbed by the pounding of hammers and the whir of saws—Cass could do nothing over the summer but learn the skills of an innkeeper. She found to her delight that she loved the very act of hospitality.

“Welcome to SeaSong,” she’d greet each person. “I am so glad you’ve chosen to spend your vacation with us.”

At first the use of the plural pronoun was strictly the royal we. She did everything herself, wearing herself to the bone, but she’d never been happier. When fall came and she didn’t return to teaching, she felt not a twinge of regret. She was too busy creating
the best B&B in the state of New Jersey. Today, more than ten years later, her rooms were booked months in advance and for top dollar. Even the brothers, much as it pained them, had to agree that she’d done all she’d hoped and more.

She hummed as she entered her sitting room, a small, cozy area with a pair of overstuffed love seats that had been her grandmother’s, a small screen TV and VCR, a maple rocker nowhere near as fine as the antique one up front in the common room, and a moderately sloppy desk crammed with all the nitty-gritty of running her inn. This room was where she and Flossie spent most of their free time.

The other private room on the first floor, separated from the sitting room by a wide arch, was her kitchen. Fitted out with an oversize refrigerator, two ovens and a stove, as well as a small table that seated four, it was more than ample for the gourmet breakfasts she prepared and served each morning. As one of the few innkeepers who hadn’t gone to continental breakfasts, not even during the week, Cass was justly proud of her inn’s reputation for fine eating.

A narrow staircase that had once been for servants ran from the kitchen to the two bedrooms directly above. For the next year one of these bedrooms belonged to Jared; the other, Cass’s own, to Jenn. Cass now slept in the walk-in storage closet tucked under the guests’ staircase and opening into the kitchen.

Pressed against one wall of the little closet/bedroom was a single bed so narrow Cass knew she’d roll right out if there were anywhere to roll. Against the opposite wall was a disreputable-looking dresser whose drawers could only be pulled open if Cass knelt on the bed out of the way. Even then they couldn’t be pulled out all the way in the limited space. In fact, Cass found the easiest way to get in and out of bed was to climb over the footboard, ducking the whole time so she didn’t bump her head on the slanted ceiling of the stairwell. The only other piece of furniture was a tiny night table crammed between the dresser and bed. It was so small there was room for only a lamp on its surface. Cass’s Bible and any books she was reading lay on the floor.

Cass wandered into the kitchen and stared at the cluttered table. Jenn had not yet cleared from dinner nor done the dishes, her responsibility each night.

“I have to what?” she’d said when Cass first talked about what living with her would be like.

“She’s worried about her nails,” Jared explained with that mix of condescending disbelief and amused affection he often had for his little sister.

“Jared and I will bus ourselves,” Cass said. “You are responsible for your own dishes and the general cleanup.”

“And what will you two be doing while I slave in the kitchen?”

Biting her tongue because she understood that Jenn was not happy about leaving her own home, her own life, for a year, Cass said gently, “I’ll be running SeaSong and cooking all our meals.”

“And I’ll be working around the place doing all kinds of things that need doing, especially grounds.” Jared made a scissor movement with his fingers as if he were trimming the shrubs.

“Yeah, but you get paid,” Jenn protested, referring to the fact that Jared had worked the past two summers for Cass, primarily but not exclusively on grounds.

“Rest assured, you will not be penniless.” Cass smiled at her disgruntled niece.

Looking at the present mess, Cass was tempted to withhold Jenn’s allowance, but she was already so far in Jenn’s doghouse that she knew she wouldn’t. She would, however, find Jenn and set her to work.

Cass found the girl on the porch swing, legs drawn up, her head on her knees.

“Jenn.”

There was no answer, but Cass was certain the drama queen knew she was there.

“Jenn.”

“What?” The word quivered in the air, abrupt and caustic.

Cass sighed. Teenage angst could be very wearing. “Your dishes are still on the table, and the kitchen’s a mess.”

“Like I care.”

Cass leaned against the porch railing and forced herself to speak pleasantly. “Come on, toots. Enough with the moping. When things need to be done, they need to be done.”

“So
do
them.”

Cass felt her temper quicken.
The kid is unhappy because her life has been upended
, she reminded herself.
And then there’s the party
and Derrick
. Cass was studying her feet, trying to decide what to say next, when Jenn straightened up and pointed a green-nailed finger straight at her.

“It’s all your fault!”

Cass blinked. She bent and peered into the common room. Fortunately it was empty. Family arguments made for bad PR. She turned to Jenn. “Well, granted I cooked the dinner and therefore dirtied some of the things awaiting you, but I don’t think it’s worth an accusation in that tone of voice.”

“I’m not talking about the dishes,” Jenn shouted. “I’m talking about Derrick!”

Automatically Cass put her finger to her lips. “Shh, Jenn! The guests. I’m sorry about the party, but—”

“Ha!” Jenn interrupted. “Like you really care. But it’s not the party.” Tears began rolling down her face.

What was it with some teenage girls and their emotions? She didn’t remember behaving like Jenn, but then she suspected that by the time Jenn was forty, she wouldn’t remember acting like this either.

“So you’re not upset about the party anymore?”

Jenn scowled fiercely through her tears. “Of course I’m upset about the party.” She sniffed, swallowed, then swiped at her cheeks.

It is the party. It’s not the party. It is the party
. Cass stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. Ten more months. Her headache intensified.

“Hey, Aunt Cassandra.” Jared walked around the side of the house, followed by his bosom buddy Paulie. “We’re going over to Paulie’s for some pizza and some videos.”

“You just ate dinner,” Cass said.

Jared and Paulie, both over six feet tall and still growing, looked at each other and shrugged. “So?”

Hollow legs
. “When will you be home?”

“Ten, eleven. I won’t be late. I’ve got to get a good night’s sleep ’cause of the game tomorrow.”

“You coming to see us, Ms. Merton?” Paulie asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Satisfied, the boys lumbered off into the gathering darkness, hulking figures in their jeans and sweatshirts.

Jenn stared after her brother and Paulie. “Why’d you let him go without checking with Paulie’s mom?”

“How do you know I didn’t check?” Cass asked, dodging a direct answer. Now definitely wasn’t the time to tell the girl that she had more confidence in Jared’s choice of friends than hers.

Jenn sighed. “Paulie’s mom better never go away for the weekend and leave Paulie home alone.”

“Why not? Paulie’s a good kid.”

“He’s totally nuts.”

“Not totally nuts, Jenn. Different.” And maybe a little bit nuts, Cass admitted to herself, but in a fun way, not a dangerous one. She would never forget the day this past summer when she’d gone outside and found Paulie, here to keep Jared company as he mowed and groomed the lawn and shrubs, trying to make a topiary out of one of her yew bushes by the front porch.

“It’s a dragon,” he told her with pride. “Those branches sticking up are the spikes on his back. There’s his body. See?”

Try as she would, all she saw was a denuded shrub stripped of its pride and purpose. A pile of deep green, very healthy branches littered the lawn. She shook her head. Only Paulie. She had to admit though that the burning bush she’d purchased to replace the beyond-salvaging yew looked great about now with its brilliant red foliage.

Cass studied her moping niece. “So, if you’re not upset about the party, what’s the problem?”

“There is no party.”

No party should fix everything, shouldn’t it? “And this is bad?”

“Yes!” Jenn jumped to her feet. The light streaming through the glass of the front door showed Cass a beautiful young face with eyes wide in desperation. “Derrick won’t speak to me because it’s all my fault!”

“It’s your fault there’s no party?”

“Well, it’s not mine, really, even though Derrick treats me like it is. It’s yours!”

“Mine?” Cass pointed to herself.

“You. Called. His. Mom.” Jenn spit out each word. “She had a fit. Derrick got in big trouble for even thinking about having people over when they weren’t home.”

“I should hope so.” Cass decided Derrick might be a problem,
but his mother sounded like a fine woman.

“But he blames me. And all because you called!”

“Jenn, you know I didn’t call to make trouble for you. Just the opposite.”

The girl made a disbelieving sound.

Cass tried again. “I don’t think it’s very nice of Derrick to blame you. It doesn’t make me think very highly of him.”

Wrong thing to say. Worse than wrong. Jenn leaped to Derrick’s defense with all the fury of a mother bear defending a helpless cub.

“Don’t you diss Derrick. Don’t you dare! He’s the hottest guy in the senior class! And he liked me.” She started to cry. “He liked me!”

Cass pushed herself away from the rail. “And just like that he stops?” She shook her head. “How can he go from liking the nicest girl in the sophomore class to not liking her just because she has an interfering aunt? That’s pretty bad.”

“You don’t understand!”

“I understand that he has no class. What do you want with someone like him, Jenn? You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. You don’t need to yearn over someone who doesn’t even value how special you are.”

“Oh, puh-lease. Don’t bother with flattery. It won’t help.”

Cass could tell that by the tone of Jenn’s voice. Still she tried again. “Do you think Jared would ever treat a girl like Derrick has treated you? Do you think he’d blame her for something that clearly wasn’t her fault?”

Jenn blinked. “You’re using my brother as an example of how a cool guy acts? My
brother?”

“Jared’s a great guy.”

Jenn snorted. “I hate to say this, Aunt Cassandra, but you don’t know from cool.”

“Maybe not, but I know from common decency.”

“You don’t understand,” Jenn repeated. “He liked
me.”
She pointed her green nail at her own chest. “Me!”

Cass shook her head. “If he truly liked you, he’d have treated you differently.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

Cass opened her mouth to respond, but Jenn rushed on.
“What am I thinking! Of course you don’t get it. Of course you don’t understand. How could you? You’re just a dried-up old maid!”

Cass’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. She stared at Jenn as a mix of shock and pain swirled through her gut, black ribbons of anguish twining about her heart. Without a word she turned on her heel and grabbed for the front doorknob. She missed but the door opened anyway, and unable to check her momentum, she crashed into the chest of Dan Harmon, the guest in the second-floor turret.