Mariah Stewart - On Sunset Beach

“Well, then. I’ll bring my list along on Wednesday and we’ll go over what all still has to be done.” Grace stepped back from the car. “I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Grace. I’m looking forward to it.”

Carly started the car, and backed out of the parking space. She’d just begun to accelerate when she saw Ford jog up toward the inn. She rolled down her window and waved as she pulled away. He slowed down and returned the wave, a smile on his face.

“Who’s that?” Gabi turned in her seat to look.

“That’s Grace’s son, Ford.”

“The guy they had the party for?”

Carly nodded.

“Then he’s Diana’s uncle. She said her grandmother’s all upset and worried ’cause he spends all his time alone kayaking or reading. Diana heard her grandmother telling her father. She said he should be going out or doing something with people and not acting like a recluse.” Gabi remained turned around until they reached the driveway. “But wow. He is hot.” The teenager glanced at Carly and grinned. “But you probably noticed that.”

Carly slowed to allow another car to pass her before making the turn onto Charles Street.

“Probably …”

Grace rarely cursed, but was in the mood to do so now. When she’d seen Carly standing alone near the tennis courts at the same time Ford was carrying his kayak onto the dock, she realized this was her chance to introduce them. She’d sprung up from her chair and started across the lobby, but she was stopped twice before she could get to the door. By the time she made it outside, Carly was getting into her car and Ford was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn.” Back in her office, she slumped into her chair, glad that no one could hear her behind the closed door.

She’d been wanting Ford and Carly to meet in the worst way. There was some sort of connection there, she felt it. Every time she looked at the young woman, she could almost, but not quite, read it. She was going to be important somehow. Grace wished she knew more, but her spirits having apparently deserted her, there was no help coming from that quarter.

“Thanks, Alice,” she said drily. “Thanks for nothing. Honestly, I don’t know what your problem is these days, but I wish you’d get over it.”

Grace had been at her Ouija board every night since she’d first sensed something dark around her son. She asked and cajoled and all but begged, but the usually reliable Alice, her old friend and sometimes spirit guide, had seemingly abandoned her. Grace’s own sensitivity, as she liked to think of it, was generally spot-on, but she was having some difficulty understanding what she’d been picking up, both from her son, and more recently from Carly. How, Grace asked herself, could Carly matter if she and Ford never met? She’d been hoping to introduce them at the welcome-home party, but it seemed Ford was either talking to someone on the opposite side of the room, or he’d disappeared.

“Kids can be so frustrating.” She sighed heavily. “Doesn’t matter how old they get, they can still frustrate the devil out of you.”

She opened her laptop and began to lay the groundwork for the article she’d write following her meeting later this week with Carly. She already knew how to begin, so all she’d need would be a few quotes from Carly and a few photos, and she’d be good to go. If she worked quickly enough, she’d have the article to the printer in time for next week’s edition of the Gazette. The following week’s article would be longer, and she’d need to spend more time with Carly so that her readers could get the sense of being there as the gallery came to life.

She finished as much of the article as she could, leaving room for her quotes, and turned off her computer.

“Alice, I know you’re around,” she said aloud. “I could use a little help here, you know? My boy’s back but I don’t know for how long. I don’t want him to leave again. I know, I know, selfish of me. But he’s such a restless soul right now …”

She sighed again and got up from her desk. “I’d do anything, you know,” she said as she turned off the office light. “Anything to have him stay. Anything at all …”

Before she closed the door behind her, she added, “Be a friend, would you, and see what you can arrange.”

CARLY couldn’t have been more pleased by the way the carriage house was shaping up. The walls were now the right shade of white (“White white, not cream or screaming white,” she’d told Cameron, and he’d delivered) and the partition bisecting the room was almost complete. She’d spent time measuring every painting, cutting out paper templates for each to pin to the partition to determine spacing so that she wouldn’t have to haul the actual works back and forth from Ellie’s house. Evenings she spent working on the last part of her book, but it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. With school out for the summer, it seemed that every night a small crowd of Gabi’s friends gathered at Ellie’s to hang out. Some nights they watched movies in the living room, sometimes they sat on the back porch and played music to which they’d sing along. Other nights, the group might consist only of Gabi’s girlfriends, and they’d congregate in her bedroom, where there’d be much laughing and talking and yes, playing of music. Loud music, accompanied by group sing-alongs.

Carly couldn’t bring herself to complain—she was merely a guest in Ellie’s home. Gabi lived there and, as an almost fifteen-year-old, was certainly entitled to have her friends over. But more and more it became apparent to Carly that she needed a quiet place to work if the book was to be completed on time for the gallery opening. She made a mental note to talk to Ellie about the possibility of finding a short-term rental in town for the duration of her stay. After all, she couldn’t expect Ellie and Cam to put her up for the entire summer any more than she could expect Gabi to forgo entertaining her friends.

On Wednesday morning, she was pinning the last of the templates on the left side of the partition while Cam’s crew nailed up the right. They’d designed it so that there would be a space between the two sides to accommodate the electrical wires to the lighting that Carly wanted over several of the paintings. She was busy moving one template a few inches to the left when she heard the door open. She leaned around the partition in time to see Grace close the door behind her.

“My, this is different,” Grace exclaimed.

“This is the partition I talked about. Cam’s guys have done a terrific job putting it together.” Carly stepped back to admire the layout of the paper cutouts.

Grace came closer and walked the length of the left side of the room.

“I see. Very nice layout.” She smiled. “Assuming, of course, that these paper squares and rectangles represent the actual paintings.”

Carly nodded. “The exhibit will begin here”—she pointed to a section of white wall on the left side of the room—“and continue around here to this side of the partition, then around to other side.”

“Where were you planning on hanging the other artists’ paintings, dear?” Grace asked.

“What other artists? What other paintings?”

“There have been other artists from St. Dennis, you know. A number of them have stepped forward since the word got out that there would be a gallery to display local works. Didn’t Ed tell you?”

“I hope you don’t mean someone’s paintings of her cats.”

“Sadly, yes, I do.” Grace glanced around the room. “I can’t even begin to imagine them hanging here. I’ve seen Hazel Stevens’s work.” She added drily, “I use the term loosely.”

“I’m going to have to speak to Ed. He can’t be promising people that their work will hang here with Carolina’s.” She blew out a long breath. One look at Grace’s face reminded her that Ed could do pretty much whatever he and the others on the council wanted.

“Perhaps we could suggest that the other works be hung in the mansion,” Grace said thoughtfully. “You know, the living artists of St. Dennis will have the privilege of displaying their work in the mansion itself.”

“That’s brilliant.” Carly took a long drink of water from a bottle she’d left on the floor near the door. “I’d never have come up with that.”

Grace’s hand fluttered to indicate the insignificance of her suggestion. “You might have if you knew Hazel’s ego. She’ll be delighted to be able to brag that her paintings were chosen to hang in those venerable halls.”

“You’re so clever. I love it. I’ll do it. I’ll call Ed tonight.”

“Now, what else needs to be done here?”

“The new heating and cooling system needs to be installed and the electrician needs to finish up. As you can see, the painting is done. Cam’s working on the new door over on the other sidewall, and we still have to meet with the security people to see who can do what. Other than that”—Carly shrugged—“we should be good to go by the fall.”

“And your book?”

“The book is this close to being finished.” Carly held up her thumb and her index finger, a fraction of an inch separating the two. “I’m thinking I might get more work done if I were by myself somewhere. I’m used to living alone.”

“A lot going on at Ellie’s, I suspect, with Gabi home for the summer.”

“How did you guess?”

“A teenage girl is bound to have friends in and an iPod with a playlist of all sorts of music on it.” Grace smiled knowingly. “My granddaughter, Diana, is one of the girls who gathers nightly with Gabi and Paige Wyler and several others. I know they spend a lot of time at Ellie’s.”

“Which is great for Ellie because she knows where Gabi is and who her friends are. Important, I know. But at the same time …”

“You don’t have to say it. I’ve shooed them from the lobby at the inn on more than one occasion. They just get a little loud at times.”

“If you hear of any apartments or small houses for rent on a short-term basis, please let me know.”

“I might be able to find a small suite for you at the inn. I can check with Danny and see if we have any vacancies that might fit your needs.” Grace frowned. “But of course, there are always kids at the inn, and sometimes they will run up and down the halls when their parents aren’t paying attention. Though we do have a few cottages …” She appeared to be thinking. “Most are just one bedroom, one bath, and a sitting room. We use them for staff, and sometimes for our interns. I could ask …”

“That’s really nice of you, Grace, but I think I’d like something with a kitchen.”

“I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of …” She stopped in midsentence. “You know, Lucy mentioned that Sophie Enright will be moving into the apartment over her restaurant sometime soon. I wish I’d paid closer attention to exactly what she said, but I had my mind on something else at the time and it went right past me.” Once again, Grace’s hands fluttered.

“Where’s Sophie living now?”

“She’s in a little rented house right off of Cherry Street. Actually, Jesse—her brother—had rented it, but when he got married, he moved into Brooke’s house. When Sophie moved to St. Dennis, she sublet it from Jesse. Apparently, there’s still some time left on the lease, so I imagine that he could sublet to you, now that Sophie’s moving.” She appeared to pause in thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that place belongs to Hal Garrity. I can look into its status, if you’d like.”