Spring Comes To Barncastle Inn (2 page)

             
“No, no. It's not that. I have a lot to do in the shop today, and I promised Jayne and her husband that it wouldn't be any extra work for them.”

             
“I can help,” Marin said. “I'm good at following instructions.”

             
Her matter-of-fact comment made a chuckle escape from Peter. So much like her mother. Already good at organizing, she was the one to help keep them straight. Kate would have been proud. An old pang resurfaced. He let the feeling linger; his pastor had told him once, during the grief process, that running from the feeling wouldn't help.

             
“Well, if it's okay with your father, it's okay with me.” Sadie glanced at Peter, the frown gone from her face. “But if you don't think it's a good idea, then, I understand. I'll manage. Really, I can.”

             
Peter nodded. “Of course that's fine with me. Marin, you can stay until one. After that, I'll need your help at the house.”

             
“Oh, thank you, Daddy!” Marin grinned. “I'm so glad we came here.”

             
On most days, Peter thought the same thing. But on days like today, the wisdom of that choice remained to be seen.

Chapter 2

Sadie had propped up her swollen ankle on a low stool in the gift shop, her foot cushioned by a small pillow she'd brought from her room. An ice pack battled against the swelling, but already Sadie could tell her ankle would be several colors by tomorrow.

              Great. Here she was, trying to be a help to her family and this was causing them more trouble. She'd begged off going to the doctor. After all, it was Saturday and the regular office was closed. She didn't want to dig into her savings for an ER visit.

             
“So what did you need help with, Miss Barncastle?” Marin stood by Sadie's desk in the nook that was part of the inn's old gatehouse. The old structure would soon be transformed into “The Castle Gift Shoppe,” set to open on the first day of spring, a little more than a week away.

             
“I had three boxes of merchandise arrive, but I needed to set up the shelves first.” Sadie pointed to the wall above an antique chest of drawers, bare except for a few shelving brackets. “The shelves go there.”

             
“Okay, I can unpack your boxes, too.” Marin reached for a step stool and then began placing the wooden planks onto the brackets, humming a little tune.

             
The gatehouse had been the perfect, logical choice for a gift shop. Originally the home of the gatekeeper in the horse and carriage days, the glorified cottage had rustic wooden walls that would be the envy of interior designers with their weathered appearance.

             
The door opened and the sudden infusion of light made Sadie squint.

             
“Hi, Mrs. Gilbert,” Marin called out, then turned back to face the shelving.

             
“Hi, Marin. Hey, Cousin, how's that ankle feeling?” Jayne stood in the doorway, holding a cup. Steam rose from its brim. “I brought you that cup of tea I promised earlier.”

             
“Oh, thank you. But I could have waited. You're busy. I know guests are arriving soon.”

             
Jayne shut the door, crossed the room and settled onto a nearby chair. “Here.” She handed Sadie the cup.

             
Sadie inhaled the aroma, tea mingled with honey and lemon. “This helps, a lot.”

             
“Besides, you know I wanted to get a sneak peek. I've been so busy lately, and I've been meaning to get out here.”

             
Sadie shook her head. “That's perfectly understandable. Plus, well, I wanted to wait for you and Luke to see the place. Especially Luke.”

             
“I know he was skeptical, but he's coming around.” Jayne's tone was warm. She'd always been the one Sadie looked up to, always so put-together, always knowing the right thing to say and how to say it.

             
“I'm glad. Because I'm thankful to both of you for, well, giving me this chance.” She sipped the tea, its warmth sliding past the lump in her throat.

             
“We're family, Sadie.” Jayne reached over and gave her a half-hug. “Of course we're here for you.”

             
Marketing was her thing. After making a social media faux pas at the firm in Boston, Sadie had found herself without a job. The sensation still stung, all these weeks later. Word got around and nobody wanted her. Of course she'd turned tail and fled to Vermont, not wanting to move back in with her parents in New Hampshire. Ever since college, she'd determined to make it on her own. God, please help this store succeed. For Jayne, and Luke. And me, too. Until everyone back East forgets about what a mess I made.

             
“You're quiet,” Jayne said, breaking the silence. “Do you need an ibuprofen, or a snack?”

             
“No, I'm just thinking.” A sigh escaped. “I sent press releases for the newspaper about the grand opening. They're going to run an advance, and send a reporter and a photographer, or they said they would. I took out a small ad.”

             
“That's outstanding.” Jayne beamed. “Honestly, this place needed something special done with it, but Luke and I didn't have time to tend to it. I remember us running ramshackle through here as kids. Remember the night we slept in the upstairs and there was a thunderstorm, and the roof leaked all night?”

             
Sadie laughed at the memory. “How could I forget? We were so scared, but too proud to go back to the main house.”

             
“Oh, I'm glad you're here, Sadie. Andy and Hank just love you. I'm praying that this is a new chapter, a new beginning in your life.”

             
“Thanks, Jayne. That's what I've been praying, too.” Another sip of tea, swirling past the lump. “Times like this, you remind me of Auntie Diane. I miss her.”

             
“Me too...me too.” A shadow crossed her cousin's face. They were all still dealing with losing Auntie Diane. It had been three years, but Sadie still remembered the phone call. And now she'd opened her mouth, dredging up a familiar pain.

             
“I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”

             
“It's okay,” Jayne said with a soft smile, but her eyes were full.

             
“My mommy is with Jesus, too.” Marin's voice reminded Sadie that it wasn't just her and Jayne in the shop. “She died when I was eight. She was sick a long time, but I got to help take care of her.”

             
“Oh, Marin...” For once, Sadie was thankful words wouldn't come.

             
“Daddy and I are just fine now.” The girl left the shelves, all arranged on the wall. “I'm done with the shelves.”

             
Sadie eyed them. The young girl had lined each shelf up with the one below it in perfect symmetry. “You did a very, very good job. It's almost one o'clock now. Isn't that when you're supposed to be back to help your father?”

             
Marin nodded. “I wish I could stay here. The sugaring house gets hot.”

             
“I'd love to visit it sometime when my ankle's better.”

             
“I wish you could now. It's really neat.”

             
Sadie found herself wishing she could see Peter again, and somehow apologize to him for years ago. Was an apology necessary? Maybe she was dwelling more on the past than she needed to, ever since it had come rushing back to her this morning. And then, the matter of Marin's confession about her mother...

             
“Well, we'll have to make plans then.” Sadie smiled at the girl, whose eyes were sparkling. To be that carefree again. “If you want to come tomorrow sometime, I'll probably be setting up more displays. Of course, that's if your father says it's all right.”

             
“You can call his cell phone. I know the number by heart.” Marin rattled off a number.

             
“Just a moment, I'll write it down.”

             
Jayne grabbed a notepad and pen from the nearby desk, and handed them to Sadie.

             
Marin repeated the number, and Sadie scribbled it on the pad.

             
“Yes, I'll call him.” Her heart beat a little faster at her words.

**

              Suppertime, and Peter decided to play the cool dad part for once and ordered pizza from town, delivery, no less.

             
He lit a fire in the kitchen fireplace and another in the wood stove in the living room. The house would be toasty tonight. He tried not to think of Kate, but the thoughts intruded anyway. She wasn't fond of fires, or wood smoke, either. He smiled at the idea of her objections to heating the home with wood. But heating oil was expensive and he hadn't had the chance to get the furnace tuned up like he'd hoped before winter.

             
Marin sat at the massive wooden farm table where Peter had consumed thousands of meals while growing up. Today, his budding artist's choice of media was oil paint sticks. She hummed again, the tones of her young voice reminding him of Kate.

             
“I'm almost done with this one, Dad,” she said, looking up from her work. “It's the forest, with all the bare maple trees and the white birch.” She squinted at the photo next to her paper on the table.

             
“Lots of browns and blacks, huh?” He moved to her side and looked over her shoulder at the photo and her project.

             
Whoever had thought of oil paint sticks was a genius. One day, Marin would likely graduate to more messy art projects but for now this was enough. He never realized art supplies cost so much, and she already mentioned she wanted to attend an exclusive summer fine arts camp at Dartmouth College.

             
“What are those green spots?”

             
“New life, Dad. It's almost spring, so I'm putting in places where green is starting to grow again.”

             
“It's not in the photo, though.” He tried not to smile at her artistic license.

             
“But spring is here; I know those colors are out there, the flowers are coming too, even if we can't see them.”

             
Ah, the faith of a child.

             
He kissed her on the top of her head. “You go right ahead and put them in.”

             
His phone buzzed and skittered across the kitchen counter, so he went to pick it up. He didn't recognize the number.

             
“This is Peter Appleman.”

             
“Hi, this is Sadie. Sadie Barncastle. How are you this evening?” Her voice sounded pleasant, professional.

             
“I'm doing well. But how's your ankle?”

             
“Sore, swollen. I don't think it's broken, though. Probably just a sprain.” She fell silent and he waited for her to continue. “Anyway, I'm calling to say thanks for letting Marin help today. She's a good worker. I was wondering if she could help tomorrow afternoon, perhaps after church?”

             
“Uh, I think that will be okay.” He looked over at his daughter. “Marin, would you like to help Sadie at the shop tomorrow?”

             
“Oh, yes, yes!” Marin grinned. “I told her she could call you.”

             
“Evidently so.” He smiled before turning away, studying the sugar house outlined in the dark. Work awaited him tonight, while the sap flow had slowed with temperatures plummeting to near freezing.

             
“Good!” Sadie said in his ear. “I know it's Sunday, but I'm feeling a time crunch here and this latest thing with my ankle isn't helping matters much.”

             
“Would you like to come for supper tomorrow night?” The words slid out before he could stop them.

             
“Um, sure. Should I bring anything?”

             
“Just yourself, and your appetite. It's only beef stew, but I have it on good authority that mine is 'epic,' or so I've heard.”

             
“It's really good!” Marin bellowed across the room.

             
Sadie laughed.

             
“Is that a yes?” he asked.

             
“Of course. What time?”

             
“Call me when you're done with the shop for the afternoon, and I'll pick you both up.”