East Hope (32 page)

There were very few customers at Taunton's these days, and of course no one to talk to at the end of the day, no one to connect with or share even the most mundane thoughts. He wasn't going to give up on his marriage. Ten years was a long time.

In preparation for dinner with Caroline, Will had showered again. He put on pressed khakis, a clean shirt, and, instead of a sweater, he reached for a favorite tweed sport coat. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn it, but knew it must have been in the spring back at Habliston. Putting it on made him think of his old life, when he had stood in front of a roomful of students, maybe with his hands buried in the pockets, as he encouraged discussions of Wharton or James. This fall he had had no reason to wear the jacket, but it was Saturday night, an appropriate occasion, he thought.

Will picked up the book he was taking to Caroline as a house present,
Miss Annie's Tea Time Treats,
a funny little volume with a cracked binding that he thought whimsical and something she might like for her recipe collection. He had found it in a box of books that he had purchased at a tag sale over Labor Day weekend. Then, taking his coat from the hook by the door, he saw that the silk scarf Mary Beth had left behind had fallen on the floor. He picked it up and brought it to his nose. The scent of her perfume had faded. Not wanting to be late, he replaced the scarf on the hook, making a mental note to take it to her when he went to the city for Thanksgiving.

It was an odd assemblage gathered around the dinner table that October night, all brought together because of their connection to Lila's house: Caroline, more than five months pregnant, and the current owner; Vern Simpson, the contractor and carpenter who had rebuilt the porch, fixed the rotting windowsills, and coddled the old furnace back to life; his wife, Dottie, who had helped Lila with parties many years before when Lila and Francis were entertaining friends from Boston; Hollis Moody, Lila's lawyer and friend, who had obviously taken a shine to its new inhabitant; and, sitting to his right, Will, who had run by the house all summer, watching its progress and keeping an eye out for the redheaded new owner.

Yet it would be years before the white clapboard building would be known as anything other than Lila's house, much the way Taunton's would remain Taunton's even if Will decided to change the name. The collective memory in East Hope was long.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves that evening.

“I thought I'd make it a party,” Caroline had explained when she helped Will out of his coat. He had assumed that they were going to spend the evening by themselves, but he had acted pleased to meet Hollis Moody, whom he had encountered numerous times in the village, and happy to see Vern again and to meet Dottie.

After drinks by the fire in the living room, they had taken their seats at the round table in the dining room. Caroline had filled a bowl with greens, wild grasses, and bittersweet and placed it in the center of the table surrounded by four brass candlesticks. This pleasing natural arrangement reminded Will of the bouquets that his mother used to make.

“This is just the kind of meal that Lila would have prepared,” Hollis said, looking distinguished in a blue wool blazer and red bow tie.

“I'll take that as a compliment, then,” said Caroline.

“Indeed you should,” Dottie said. “Lila loved parties.” Dottie had a halo of gray hair, and while Vern's wrinkled face had a weathered appearance, Dottie's lined skin looked soft and powdery. She wore a red turtleneck with a gray wool jumper. Though certainly as old as Vern, she stood very straight and appeared to be a vigorous woman, unlikely to give in to a frail old age.

“Lila's cabin-fever suppers were famous,” Dottie continued. “Usually, about late March, after what seemed like the hundredth blizzard, during some wretched storm or other, she'd start calling all her friends, insisting that they bundle up and come on over for a cabin-fever supper. The grown-ups and the children. My goodness, it was fun.”

“Dottie, dear, these folks don't need to hear about all that.” Vern's voice was teasing. He wore dark gray trousers and a corduroy jacket, and his hair looked wetted down and recently combed. Dottie had probably had a say in his grooming for the evening.

“Sure we do,” Will assured her. Dottie had regaled Will with stories about the local history of East Hope while they had their drinks, pleased to have a new audience. She had not met Will before, not being a book person, she'd said, but a woman who enjoyed handiwork in the evenings, such as quilting or a bit of knitting if the light wasn't too bad.

“Vern's told me you're a wonderful cook,” Caroline said, smiling at Dottie.

“He always appreciates a hot dinner. I do my best.” She glanced lovingly at her husband. “But this, now, is something special.”

“I'm glad you like it. I've been working with some old versions of New England boiled dinners.”

“The boiled dinners I remember can't hold a candle to this,” Hollis said, helping himself to more from the earthenware dish that Caroline had brought to the table.

“I've been studying the old recipes in Lila's books.”

Will added his own praise and served himself a second portion. He thought that Caroline looked happier this evening. Her cheeks were pink and she wore a loosely fitting green dress. It was made of some kind of soft material, and her belly protruded in an obvious way, as if now that her secret was out, she could relax and show the world her changing shape. Now and again he'd thought about the man she'd been with, the fact that she'd had a love affair. He'd even found himself fantasizing and wishing that he'd been the one she had turned to in her loneliness and grief. Then, with embarrassment, he would remember Mary Beth.

He tried to picture his wife seated with him at this table, but couldn't. They never had small dinner parties; when they had entertained it was always a big cocktail party or buffet supper. Mary Beth had started hiring caterers once her income grew larger. “You might as well have lots of people if you're going to go to the trouble,” she'd said. Was it a character flaw to prefer smaller gatherings?

“Your Harry certainly loved Lila's cooking,” Dottie said, looking at Caroline. “She viewed it her summer duty to put some meat on that child's bones. Remember, Vern?”

“Sure do,” Vern said. “Harry was a skinny kid. Strong, though. Those summers when he was still in high school, he had no trouble sailing those bigger boats.”

“He practically lived down at the East Hope Yacht Club when he worked there,” Hollis said. “The girls used to flock around him. Harry'd go back to Boston at the end of the summer, and those gals would mope about for weeks.”

“I'm going to check on the dessert in the oven.” Caroline stood. “Will, would you mind pouring everyone some more wine?”

“I'd be glad to,” he said, meeting her gaze. The wine had started to loosen all of their tongues, and Will could see that these memories of Harry's visits in the old days had upset Caroline.

The others hadn't seemed to notice. Earlier, the Simpsons and Hollis Moody had talked openly about Caroline's pregnancy, and she had told them she had been feeling so much more energetic recently, better than she had felt in a long time. No one present that evening mentioned the obvious absence of a father.

After Will poured the wine he began to clear the plates, telling everyone to stay seated and that Caroline would not want her guests to follow him into the kitchen.

“You okay?” he said when they were alone. He piled the plates onto the kitchen table.

She nodded, but stood very still next to the oven, pot holders gripped in each hand. She drew in her breath and opened the oven. “You like apple crumble?” Her eyes glistened, either from the oven's heat or the approach of tears.

Will went to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't deny the protective urge that came over him in her presence. He had felt the same way when he saw the panic on her face when he found her beside the road in the fog. “It'll be okay,” he said, and quickly withdrew his hand. “This smells great.”

Caroline spread five plates onto the counter, and while she spooned out servings of the apple crumble, Will stood beside her adding scoops of vanilla ice cream. They could hear the others talking in the dining room. The conversation was about Harry again. Something about racing the Comets, and how amazing it was that Rob, Harry's own son, was older now than Harry had been then.

“Makes you wonder what he'd think now, her having some other man's baby,” Dottie said, unaware her voice could carry to the kitchen.

Caroline dropped the serving spoon. Will picked it up and carried it to the sink. Caroline didn't move.

“What I'm wondering is why the father hasn't shown up,” Vern said. “What kind of man gets a nice lady like that pregnant and leaves her to fend for herself?”

“I don't think that's any concern of ours,” Hollis said.

Will took another spoon from the counter. “I'll finish this,” he whispered. “Do you want to go upstairs for a minute?” It pained him to see her stricken expression. In the meantime Hollis had turned the conversation to the University of Maine's ice hockey team. Vern and Dottie's grandson played for Orono.

“It's okay. Really,” she said. “If you'd just carry out the plates, I'll be there in a few minutes.”

When Caroline joined them in the dining room there was much praise for the crumble and how the cranberries were an excellent addition to the apples. The topic of Harry was dropped.

Later, after finishing his coffee by the fire, Hollis announced it was past his bedtime. “Can't remember when I've had such a lively evening,” he said, and Vern and Dottie agreed that it was getting late, and it was time for them to retire too. Will helped Caroline retrieve their coats from the hall closet.

“Please don't leave too,” she said softly.

He was glad to hear her say it. The thought of returning to his lonely apartment above the store was growing steadily more unappealing. “Would you like me to put more logs on the fire?” he asked.

Caroline nodded and returned to the living room to help her guests with their coats.

“Now, once that baby comes, I hope you'll let me help,” Dottie said.

“She's the expert,” Vern said. “After our three kids and the eight grandkids, there's not a trick she doesn't know.”

“I'll certainly take you up on that,” Caroline said. “After nineteen years, I'm a little out of practice.”

“Once a mother, always a mother,” Vern said, “but Dottie here won't want to miss out.”

“Look forward to meeting that son of yours too,” Hollis said.

“He'll be here for Christmas,” Caroline said. Will thought her expression had saddened at the mention of her son. She must miss him. He followed her to the back steps and waved along with her as the cars left the driveway. The night was cold. She shivered in the doorway. They went back inside.

Caroline settled into the chair closest to the fire. She watched while Will crumbled a wad of paper and forced it under the last smoldering log. The fire sent forth a hearty flame and Will added two more logs. He moved awkwardly, with a boyish uncertainty, as if aware that he was being observed.

“Thanks for staying,” she said. “I didn't want to be alone just yet.”

“It was a great dinner,” he said. “They all really enjoyed it. I know I did.” He looked at his hands as if to check for soot from the fire and then settled into the chair across from hers.

For a moment neither of them said anything. The fire crackled in the grate and the clock ticked in the hall.

Will cleared his throat. “That must have been hard—hearing them talk about your husband.”