The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (196 page)

“What, stolen bikes, graffiti on the sidewalks, cars being egged on Mischief Night?”

“A couple of years back, a guy who lived in town was abducting, raping, and killing young women. His wife was one of the town’s police officers. He killed her, too.”

“Are you making that up just to scare me?”

He shook his head. “It really happened. The point’s not to scare you as much as to remind you to be careful. When you’re new in town, especially a town like St. Dennis, it’s easy to trust everyone because everyone is so friendly. All I’m saying is, be careful.”

“Message received.”

“Good.” He went back to checking out the duck decoys. “These are just perfect.”

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Ellie walked closer. “They look hand-carved.”

“Oh, they are,” he replied. “Miss Lilly’s husband carved them. Ted Cavanaugh was a legend around
here, won all sorts of awards for his decoys.” He turned over the duck he was holding. “See? TJC. Ted—I forget his middle name—Cavanaugh; 1943. This one’s a mallard. This one over here—” He picked up another and put the mallard down. “This is a ruddy duck. This one …” He pointed to a third. “This one’s a pintail.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I grew up on the Bay.” He shrugged as if that was explanation enough, and perhaps it was. “If you decide you want to sell them, I’d appreciate first dibs. I know they’re worth a lot of money. I’m not sure how much, but there’s a museum down in Salisbury that might be able to help figure it out. And Nita Perry—she owns Past Times, one of the antiques shops in town—probably has a handle on what they’re worth. She’s been in St. Dennis forever.” Cam smiled. “But if you contact the museum, don’t let them talk you into handing the ducks over. I know they already have a few Ted Cavanaughs and I’m sure they’d be happy to have a few more.”

“I promise I won’t do anything with them without letting you know first.”
And certainly not before six months have expired
.

“Say, have you thought about selling the house as is, before you put any work into it? Could be you’d save a lot of time and money.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, no.” Actually, she had, but she needed to do some fixing up for her own sake, since she’d be living there for at least six months and she’d go crazy from the dust and depressing decor. Besides, what else would she do for the next hundred and eighty days?

“You might want to give it some thought. I’d be interested myself.” To Ellie’s eye, he appeared to be trying too hard to be nonchalant. “Would you think about it and let me know?”

“Sure.”
As if she could sell it now anyway
.

“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to have to head out. I have an appointment with a customer at five.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Here’s my card. If there’s anything I can do to help you, call me, even if it’s just a question you have about something. When you’re ready to start on that wallpaper, or if you need a ladder, or you want to work on that linoleum—or you decide to chuck it all and sell it now—give me a call.”

“I will. Thanks.” She walked him to the door. “I’m sorry I can’t afford to hire you to do what I can do myself, but I appreciate the tips you’ve given me.”

“If you really want to do some of the work before you sell it, maybe we can work out some sort of arrangement for the tough stuff. Like a barter.” He stood in the doorway, looking down at her with dark blue eyes, and for a brief moment, she was afraid to ask what kind of barter he had in mind.

Cam must have read her expression, because he laughed out loud. “Not that kind of barter.” He pointed past her to the mantel, where the ducks were lined up at an angle. “That kind of barter.”

“Oh, right. Sure. That could work. If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive. You think about what you need, and I’ll figure out what it would cost—giving you the friends and family discount, of course—and then we’ll see what the job is worth in decoys. Unless, of course, you want to sell it to me right now. As is.”

“Ah, no. Not ready to do that.”

“Then we’re back to the ‘friends and family discount’ and the decoy barter.”

“I like it. Thanks.” She walked out front with him. The sun had almost set and the geese were settling in for the night at the wetlands around the bend from the remains of the old lighthouse. There was a strong scent of salt and something rotting over on the beach, but oddly enough, she found it appealing.

“Was that door unlocked the whole time you were outside?” Cam paused on his way to the truck.

She nodded.

“If someone walks in the front while you’re out back and walks away with those decoys, I’m going to be really pissed.” He went to the driver’s-side door and opened it. “You get too careless, it’s going to cost you. Like maybe a few days’ worth of pulling up gunky flooring or stripping down some sticky wallpaper.”

“Got it,” she replied. “I’ll be more diligent.”

He backed the truck out, then waved as he started to drive on.

“Thanks again, Cameron.”

He slowed the truck and looked back at her. “Anytime, Ellie …”

She stood at the end of the driveway and watched the truck wind around the first bend in the road and disappear. She turned back to the house, went inside, and locked all the doors. Seconds later, the coming night closed in and she was alone again.

She sat in the living room, still as a stone, and thought about Lynley. Did her mother come here to keep Lilly company, or to find comfort during her illness?
Through the worst of her battle, did she know she would, in the end, lose? Did she walk the beach where Ellie walked, watched the sun set across the Bay, listen to the scolding screeches of the gulls as they circled above her? Did she take solace in these walls, find some strength here that she could not find elsewhere? Had she, Ellie, failed to offer enough support and encouragement that her mother had fled to this house in this tiny town to find what she needed? Or had she simply wanted a change in scenery, a vista to look out at that differed from the view from their penthouse apartment?

“Mom, if I failed you back then, I’m sorry,” Ellie whispered. “If there was something I should have done that I didn’t do, I’m sorry.…”

She thought about all the years her mother had spent traveling for photo shoots, for filming TV shows and the occasional movie while Ellie had been away at boarding school or college or holidays. In retrospect, it seemed they were rarely in the same place at the same time, and yet she had adored Lynley, with the same adoration a child might bestow on a beautiful fairy princess, one who was above the mere mortals who surrounded her. There were times when she’d see her mother’s face in a magazine and barely make the connection between herself and the woman on the page. Yet the times they were at home together, alone, there’d been a strong current of love that flowed between them, binding mother and daughter, and Ellie had clung to that in the last weeks of her mother’s illness. Even then, Lynley had been beautiful. Even then, her smile could light the room.

Ellie sat alone on the sofa, wondering if Lynley had
sat in that very room and worried about the daughter she would be leaving behind, if she’d brought her regrets and her sorrows here as well as her love for Lilly.

Ellie stared out the window at the Bay, and wondered if Lynley, in her day, had done the same.

H
aving done the math and figured out that if she continued to buy a cup of coffee every morning for the rest of the month, she’d have spent the equivalent of the cost of a modest coffeemaker, Ellie decided that this morning’s trip to Cuppachino would be her last. She’d become accustomed to the early morning trip into town and was pleased that the young man behind the counter now recognized her. Since she was alone almost all day every day, she found herself looking forward to that tiny bit of socializing in the morning. Of course, she told herself as she opened the now-familiar red door, there were other ways to socialize, if she were so inclined, that wouldn’t cost her anything at all. Like joining the library. Volunteering at the nursing home or the local animal shelter.

Of course, socializing with the locals would expose her to a scrutiny she was trying to avoid, and therefore was pretty much out. There would always be questions she’d hesitate to answer, and seeing her hesitate, sooner or later, someone would start to wonder.

Better to keep to myself
.

If she needed to talk to someone, she could call Carly. If she was really desperate for companionship, she could stop in to see Jesse, which she would have to do soon enough anyway because she would be needing cash. And then there was Cameron. She had to admit he’d come as a surprise to her; he wasn’t at all the handyman she’d pictured in her mind. She’d expected a man somehow closer to fifty or sixty, with a little bit of a paunch, a receding hairline, and baggy pants.

Definitely not the tall, lanky blond guy—no bald spots as far as she’d seen, and no paunch, either—wearing well-fitting jeans and a really terrific smile who showed up on Bay View Road two days ago.

She walked to the counter and was greeted by the same young man—Josh, according to his name tag.

“Hey, good morning,” he called to her from the latte machine. “Your regular?”

Ellie smiled and nodded. “Please.”

Being recognized as a regular—albeit an anonymous one—made her feel just a tiny bit less alone, a little less like an outsider. Of course, she was an outsider—she knew that—but it felt nice to belong somewhere, even if only at the coffee shop, and only for a few minutes each day.

Josh delivered her coffee and she paid him, putting the change in the large white mug marked
TIPS
on the counter. She’d just fixed her coffee and snapped the lid on the take-out cup when she heard someone call her name.

“Ellie.” Cameron stood near the front window
table, where a small group—mostly women of varying ages—had turned to look at her.

Ellie flushed at the scrutiny. Her first thought was that someone would remember her face from all of the newspaper and TV coverage last year. She’d done what she could to change her look, darkening her blond hair and cutting it short. And certainly, her style wasn’t that of a well-to-do Manhattan executive any longer. Gone were the designer suits and highticket shoes and accessories. She’d worn nothing but jeans and sweatshirts or sweaters since she arrived in St. Dennis. So chances were slim that anyone would connect her to the daughter of the King of Fraud.

Still, why take that chance?

She waved and smiled to Cameron, but headed toward the door all the same.

“Ellie, come here,” he persisted. “Come meet some of your fellow St. Dennis residents.”

Crap
.

Slapping a smile on her face, she walked to the table, where four faces peered up at her.

“Ellie, meet Grace Sinclair. Her family owns the big inn that sits out on the Bay not far from your house. Grace also owns the town newspaper, the
St. Dennis Gazette
.”

The older woman who’d smiled at Ellie the first time Ellie stopped at Cuppachino smiled at her again now.

Swell. She owns the newspaper
.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Sinclair.” Ellie may have been on edge, but she did remember her manners.

“Lovely to meet you, dear, and please, it’s
Grace
.
Cameron tells us you’re fixing up Lilly Cavanaugh’s old house. We can’t wait to hear your plans for the place.” Grace put out her hand and took Ellie’s to give it a squeeze. “Welcome to St. Dennis.”

“Thank you.”

“And this”—Cameron touched the shoulder of the pretty curly-haired woman who sat directly in front of him—“is Brooke Bowers. She owns the cupcake shop across the street.”

“The cupcake baker? You’re Jesse Enright’s fiancée?” Ellie asked.

“That would be me, yes.” Brooke offered her hand. “Jesse mentioned you’d been in to the office to pick up the keys to your new house.”

“Jesse’s been really helpful.” Ellie couldn’t help but wonder if Jesse had shared with Brooke just how helpful he’d been.

“Nita Perry.” Cameron indicated the woman in her late fifties who sat closest to the window. She had shiny black hair pulled back into a severe bun and wore large tortoiseshell glasses. “Nita has an antiques business here in town. I think I mentioned her to you.”

“You did.” To Nita, she said, “I’ll be calling on you when I get around to inventorying the contents of the house. I’m going to want to sell some things.”

“Oh, please do!” Nita’s face lit up. “I know that house is filled with some wonderful pieces. Lilly never did get rid of a thing, you know.”

“You’ll be the first person I call when I get to that point,” Ellie promised.

“I can’t wait.” Nita’s shoulders shivered slightly with anticipation.

“And this is Clay Madison, Brooke’s brother.” Cameron pointed to the lone male seated at the table. “He has that big farm on the left side of the road when you turn off the highway. Clay grows organic produce and is just starting up an organic brewery with another guy in town.”

“Organic beer?” Ellie raised an eyebrow.

Clay nodded. “Why not?”

“No reason, I guess.” Ellie smiled. “Sounds good to me, anyway.”

“We’ll put you on the list for the tasting when we’re ready for the big reveal,” Clay told her.

“Clay’s engaged to Miss Grace’s daughter, Lucy,” Cameron added.

“Congratulations.” Ellie felt like her face was frozen in the smile she was still wearing. She needed to get out of here before it became permanent.

“Ellie, can you join us?” Grace asked.

“Oh, no, I have some errands to run.” Ellie was grateful for an excuse to let the smile slide. “But thank you for offering.”

“Another morning, perhaps,” Grace replied.

“We’re here almost every day by eight,” Nita told her. “Please feel free to come in anytime and sit and chat with us for a while.”

“That sounds great, thanks.” Ellie turned to Cameron. “Good seeing you again, Cameron.” She turned back to the table. “It was nice to meet all of you.”

“We’re happy to welcome you to town, Ellie.” Nita turned in her chair.