By The Sea, Book Four: The Heirs (34 page)

Mavis had never seen her grandmother so sad.
It was as if she was looking into a crystal ball, like a
fortuneteller, and not liking what she was seeing.

"Grandmother?"

"Hmm?"

"When you get old, I promise I'll take care
of you."

"Child! I
am
old. How old do you
think I can get?"

Mavis blinked and said, "Well, older than
now. Much older!"

With a melancholy smile, Tess Moran bent
over her granddaughter and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Thank
you for that. You know what? I believe you will try."

Tess Moran lived another eight years, the
last two in a wheelchair. She was able to remain at Beau Rêve the
entire time, because she remained perfectly lucid and had the money
to pay for round-the-clock assistance. Her son Aaron and his wife
lived in Newport at the time and were able to monitor her health
and the wisdom of her decisions, but mostly Tess Moran insisted on
being her own woman, feisty and independent to the last. Mavis
spent as much time with her as she could; her grandmother died in
her arms.

The funeral had been in the very same church
where Mavis now sat, roused from her reverie in time to hear the
priest say, "You may kiss the bride." A roar went up from the
audience, and Mavis stood up with everyone else.

She fled the church before the bride and
groom had taken a dozen steps down the aisle.

Quinta Seton sat at the writing desk where
Alan's grandmother Amanda once had written her thank-you notes for
hundreds of wedding gifts.

Quinta was doing the same. "Was it the
O'Connors who gave us the Cuisinart?" she asked her husband. "I've
lost the tag."

"You're asking
me
?" Freshly showered,
Alan was pulling his khakis on in a hurry, late again for work.
Newlywed husbands are like that, always finding something more fun
to do.

"It has to be the Cuisinart. It's either
that or the tripod, which is the only other gift without a tag. Why
would they give us a tripod?"

"Who are the O'Connors?"

"My aunt's cousin's … husband, and his wife,
I think. Or my uncle's. I forget. Why would
anyone
give us a
tripod?"

"How many cousins do you have
,
anyway?" Alan asked, yanking a polo shirt from its hanger. "I've
never been so blessed confused in all my life as I was at that
reception."

"Not that many, really. I would guess
nowhere near a hundred. And they weren't all there, you know. It
just felt like it." Quinta abandoned the thank-you project and went
up to Alan, encircling him from behind as he ran a brush over his
still-wet hair. Leaning her cheek against his back, she smiled in
recollection and said, "That was the best wedding. I had such a
good time. I loved that we were able to hold the reception at Ocean
Court where we first danced together."

"And don't forget kissed."

"And fell in love.

"Do you think that's when we did?"

"Oh, yeah. No doubt about it." She hugged
him tight. "I love you."

Alan tossed the brush on his bureau and
turned inside the circle of her arms. "I love you, too, Win—an
absurd amount."

She loved that he had come up with his own
pet name for her, loved the sound of it on his lips. They kissed,
not for the first time in the last hour, and she said, "Will we
always be this happy?"

"I don't see why not."

"My parents were," she said, as if that had
set a precedent.

"Mine are, too, in their way. But, oh, if
you'd seen my grandparents. They wrote the book on happy."

"I wish I'd known them," Quinta said. She
glanced at the framed pastels that hung in a cluster on one wall of
the room, each signed flamboyantly with the single name
Amanda
. She felt a pang for the happy couple, killed in a
small-plane crash en route to Martha's Vineyard. "What a waste
…."

"Don't go there," he warned softly. "Nothing
to be gained by that."

Quinta had heard it from Alan before. She
knew he was thinking of the repeated times she mourned her father's
impairment. He was right; there was nothing to be gained. But her
thoughts were of her father now, and she said, "I wonder if we'll
ever
get him to move closer to us and the shipyard. He would
never live with us, I get that all too well. But at least where I
can keep an eye on him!"

"Stop," Alan said, touching his finger to
her lips in gentle reproach. "For now, your dad is good. His house
is as wheelchair-friendly as a house can be, and it has happy
memories for him. You have a sister in Middletown, ten minutes
away, for emergencies. You have another sister, currently
separated, who may well move into your old place upstairs; who
knows where that will go? When and if life does get to be too much
for Neil, he can decide on his own to make the move here. But don't
wish that on him too quickly, Win; let him enjoy his independence.
You know how much it means to him."

"Everything," she said with a sigh. "He's so
fierce about it. And yet before the accident he could be positively
clingy."

"Traumas change people, not always for the
worse."

"All right. I'll stop," she conceded. Their
waking-up time had been spent in entirely blissful lovemaking, and
Quinta had no desire to send her husband off to work on a down
note.

"Oh, wait," she said, suddenly remembering.
"A package came yesterday while I was out, and they put it in the
mud shed. The box was too big to get my arms around, so I left it
where it was. Can you bring it in for me before you take off?"

"Sure. It must have had some value, or they
would have left it out in front. A late wedding gift?"

"Not another set of pots and pans, I hope.
People keep mistaking me for someone who cooks!" She laughed at the
notion and went into the kitchen to meet her husband and the
mystery package.

It was heavy. Alan landed it with an awkward
thud on the antique marble-topped island, and Quinta began
attacking the package with a serrated knife.

"I'm off," said Alan, kissing her cheek. "We
have a very important boat to launch after a major refitting, and
the customer wants to have me around."

"Oh, let someone else hold his hand," she
said, sawing away at the outer cardboard boxing. "Aren't you
curious?"

Alan narrowed his eyes at his new wife.
"You're an evil little temptress."

"I know. Grab another knife."

He did, and the two worked through the
outer, then the inner, thick cardboard enclosures, and then the
obligatory Styrofoam surround, and then bubble-wrap after that, and
excelsior packing after that. After all the wrappings had been
stripped away, scattered across the kitchen floor, they were left
with an exquisite bronze sculpture of a winged horse about to take
flight, done in realistic detail, or at least as realistic as a
winged horse could expect to be.

Quinta gasped and said, "Your grandmother's!
It must be one of her works, and someone has—"

"No way," said Alan, walking around the
piece. "This is nothing like her work. This artist definitely
understood horses. Maybe it's signed." He lifted the sculpture,
turning it over carefully and holding it that way with an effort.
"A – I – C? – L? – E - N. Huh. Aiclen."

Peering over his shoulder, Quinta said,
"Aiden. I think it's Aiden."

"Never heard of either one of 'em. No
card?"

After a quick search, they discovered a
small envelope with a note inside among the wrappings on the
floor.

It was Quinta who got to it first. She
slipped out the card and read:

Dear Alan and Quinta,

I looked up an old acquaintance recently,
and saw this in his gallery. Destiny seems to be playing a hand
here. I hope you're as taken with this as I was. Congratulations,
and may you have a long and happy marriage.

All the best,

Mavis

"Oh my God," Quinta said, flabbergasted. She
glanced at her husband, who seemed as stunned as she was. "This is
a sculpture of—"

"Pegasus," said Alan. "Indeed it is."

"Is this a joke? After all she did? Is this
some kind of taunt? Like Cindy and her pizzas? No, it can't be
that. This is a beautiful, exquisite piece! It's probably worth as
much as the actual boat
Pegasus
. I don't understand this,"
she said, waving the note at Alan. "I do not understand."

Alan took the notecard from her and read it
through, then went on staring at it, lost in thought. At last he
said, "It's an act of contrition, of atonement … and I think, of
joy."

"Joy? Where do you see joy in that note?"
She took it back and tried to fathom, in Mavis's elegant hand, what
looked happy in it. The odd thing was that on a second, slower,
less reflexive and more reflective reading, Quinta did see a
certain genuineness there. Unhappy people are rarely capable of
acts and thoughts of good will. For whatever reason, this woman was
not unhappy.

"Huh." Quinta took the note back to Amanda's
desk and laid it next to the blank sheet in which she intended to
thank the O'Connors, or not, for the Cuisinart, or not. The note to
Mavis would apparently be more straightforward by far. She turned
to her husband, who had followed her into the bedroom with high
hopes, and said, "God works in mysterious ways."

"Yep," he agreed. "Now where to put it? I
was thinking, in the nook across from The Thing in the hall."

"Alan, perfect!"

Generations of family and friends had
puzzled over the abstract sculpture that had dominated the entry
hall; it was one of Amanda's very first works in bronze and one
that her father had referred to simply as "The Thing," a name that
had stuck. The winged horse would be a much more accessible piece
of art—but no less intriguing, for all that.

Because God apparently did work in
mysterious ways.

Tidewater

"A spellbinding thriller that is both
intense and riveting."

—
Romantic Times
Newly married to a man of wealth and reputation who's very willing
to be stepfather to her child, Sara Bonniface would seem to have
all she's ever wanted. But her young daughter has other ideas,
embarking on a crusade to learn more about her birth father. And
that's where Sara's life begins to spin slowly out of control
....

Select here
to read an excerpt from TIDEWATER.

A Charmed Place

"Buy this book! A truly fantastic read!"

—Suzanne Barr
,
Gulf Coast
Woman
USA TODAY
bestselling author Antoinette Stockenberg delivers
an original and wonderfully romantic story of two people -- college
lovers separated for twenty years -- who have the chance to be
happy together at last.  But family, friends, an ex-husband, a
teenaged daughter and an unsolved murder seem destined to keep the
lovers star-crossed, until Dan takes up residence in the Cape Cod
lighthouse, with Maddie's rose-covered cottage just a short walk
away ...

Select here
to read an excerpt from A CHARMED
PLACE.

Keepsake

"Deeply emotional … unforgettable"

—
amazon.com review
KEEPSAKE ... a postcard-perfect town in Connecticut. When
stonemason Quinn Leary returns after seventeen years, he has one
desire: to prove his father's innocence of a terrible crime
committed when Quinn and Olivia Bennett, town princess, were
high-school rivals. Class doesn't matter now but family loyalties
do, and they're fierce enough to threaten the newfound passion
between two equals.

A Month at the Shore

"An addictive, captivating story of love,
family and trust."

—
Romance Reviews Today
Laura Shore has fled her humble past on Cape Cod and made a name
for herself on the opposite coast. But when she returns and joins
forces with her two siblings to try to save Shore Gardens, the
failing family nursery, she finds that she hasn't left the past
behind at all. Kendall Barclay, the town's rich son and her
childhood knight in shining armor, lives there still, and his hold
over Laura is as strong as ever. Like a true knight, he's
attentive, courteous, and ready to help -- until a discovery is
made that threatens the family, the nursery, and Laura's deepening
relationship with him.

BY THE SEA, Book One: TESS

"A riveting saga/mystery."

--
Rave Reviews

From the wild decadence of late
nineteenth-century Newport comes the tale of Tess Moran, a
beautiful Irish housemaid in one of the grand summer "cottages,"
who makes a dark bargain with a man of commanding wealth — and
falls in love in the bargain.

BY THE SEA, Book Two: AMANDA

"A quality novel [that] contains many of
those little epiphanies, those moments of recognition."

—
Providence Journal

Marrying American money to an English title
is a tradition of its own; but Amanda Fain, a brash heiress with
money to burn, has a fondness for Bolsheviks and bootleg liquor
that makes her an unlikely match for the reluctant, ironic, and
impoverished English aristocrat Geoffrey Seton, who has been
ordered to America to find someone who can pay the bills for the
family estate back home.

Embers

"A deft blend of mystery and romance … sure
to win more kudos"

—
Publishers Weekly
To Meg Hazard, it seemed like a good idea at the time: squeezing
her extended family into the back rooms of their rambling Victorian
home and converting the rest of the house into a Bed and Breakfast
in the coastal town of Bar Harbor, Maine.  Paying guests are
most welcome, but the arrival of a Chicago cop on medical leave
turns out to be both good news and bad news for Meg and the Inn
Between.