A Safe Place to Land Read online

  “Three kids and a man who has no sense of humor is not what I’d call company.”

  “Don’t be so hard on Craig. He’s had it tough, and he doesn’t know you. He might be terrific.”

  “And what if he is?”

  She sighed and tightened her grip. “Don’t go too much longer alone, Jenna.”

  “Yeah, I know. I worry about that, sometimes.”

  “Worry about what?”

  “Being found dead in my pajamas, surrounded by animals and empty bottles of wine.”

  “Jenna!”

  I laughed. “Kidding! I don’t like wine that much. Maybe just one bottle.”

  She shook her head. “Forty isn’t that old.”

  “Neither is fifty.”

  “I know, and I can guarantee that I’m getting a lot more action than you are. In fact, I have a date tonight. The fourth date with the same gentleman. He’s very nice.”

  I looked sideways at her. “The fourth date? With the same guy? Woo-woo.”

  “And that’s pretty much how I feel with my panties down around my ankles and his mouth where it should be.”

  I almost choked with laughter. “Oh, big sis, you certainly are getting more action than I am.”

  She kissed the side of my head. “Honey, I know what Sam meant to you. But he was out of your life years ago, and you never moved on. It’s time.”

  “Maybe. But with his son? That’s just…creepy.”

  “I’m not talking about Craig Ferris. Obviously, besides a bit of physical attraction, I bet he’s probably not your type. But Jenna, there’s Match.com, Plenty O Fish…go online. Find somebody. Before you get too stuck in your ways.”

  “Stella said I was becoming a curmudgeon.”

  “Stella is a smart woman.”

  “Yes. She is.”

  We sat for a bit longer, then went back to the condo. Mom was still asleep, so I drove back to Cape Edwards.

  The day wasn’t over yet.

  I could smell paint when I walked into the house. I also heard music. Another Disney soundtrack, I guessed. I followed the music and the laughter.

  Craig and the twins were painting the big bedroom a pale, quiet pink. Drop cloths covered the furniture and carpet, and each girl had a half-sized roller and was diligently working on a small corner of the room.

  “Hey, guys, this looks great.”

  Craig looked over. “Yes. I managed to talk them away from the Pepto-Bismol shades.”

  Maddie looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “It’s not what I would have picked.”

  “Well, maybe not, but what a difference. You know, Craig, I’m pretty sure there’s hardwood under this carpet if you want to tear it up.”

  He set down his roller. “I was hoping you’d say that, especially since the girls found a very cool shaggy rug in the shape of a very big heart.”

  “Sure. Feel free to do whatever you want. After all, this is your house too. Where’s Amanda?”

  Craig jerked his head to the next room. “She wanted to do it herself.”

  I walked farther down the hall. Sure enough, Amanda was standing, roller in hand, putting a soft and quite lovely shade of green on the wall.

  “Green is a relaxing color,” I said. “This is going to look really nice when you’re done.”

  She was dressed in baggy pull-on shorts and an equally baggy T-shirt. “I want to pull up the rug. Dad said we can try. The furniture’s okay, but I want to paint it white. And I’d like some hanging plants. Ferns, maybe? Like the ones hanging in that sunroom?”

  I nodded. “Sure. Actually, we can divide them up next week if you like. I’ve got tons of clay pots in the garage, or you can find really pretty ones at Del’s. That’s the garden center up in Cheriton.” Watching her, I suddenly realized I hadn’t seen her with a cell phone. She was what, twelve? Thirteen? Why wasn’t she glued to the screen like other girls her age?

  “You don’t have a phone?” I asked.

  She froze. I’d said the wrong thing. Somehow, I’d made a mistake here.

  “Never mind,” I said hurriedly. “We’ll look at those ferns this weekend, see which ones we can cut apart.”

  I backed out and hurried back to the living room.

  I put up the battered baby gate I’d used years ago when Finn was just a puppy and needed to be confined. I set it in the hallway going down to the bedrooms and let the dogs out of the laundry room. They ran outside first, barking and sniffing, and I walked to the edge of the water.

  There was a freighter out in the bay. I saw them frequently, along with the fishing boats that passed several times a day. My favorites were the sailboats. One day, I told myself for the hundredth time, I was going to learn to sail and set off right from my own little dock.

  Finn came bounding up, the legs of an unfortunate tree frog sticking out of his mouth.

  “A present?” I asked.

  He sat, his curly tail wagging happily.

  “You know I don’t like tree frogs,” I told him. “Can’t you kill something less gross? A mouse, maybe?” He bounded off without answering.

  Maybe Sharon was right. I needed to get a little bit more of a life if I was spending my time talking more to my dogs than to people.

  I went back into the house, took a shower, and got ready for Friday night.

  Cape Edwards was a town of many faces. It was a beach town, a vacation spot during the summer, and a fishing village all year round. It also had a surprising arty side. There were six art galleries on Main Street, and three bars had music all summer, the entertainment picked from our very talented local pool. There was also a playhouse that managed at least six productions a year, a small bookstore with readings once a month by local authors, and at least six different book clubs. The Grove Gallery on Main Street had a live event every Friday night. A musician, a lecture, a reading…anything to get a small crowd gathered. They also served free wine and cheese, so going to the Grove had become, for many of us, a sort of cocktail hour before dinner and moving on to the rest of the evenings entertainment. I was never alone. Terri was with me, or Karen, and Stella or Marie, if they were around. We always stopped at the Grove, then had dinner at Shorty’s or Sam’s on Main, or we’d walk all the way over to Treacher’s, right on the marina. Then we’d go off to whatever venue had the singer or group we fancied. Sometimes, we even hopped into Terri’s golf cart and headed out to BayHarbor, a planned community right at the edge of town with condos, townhouses, a small marina and a long pier with a crab shack and stage at the very end.

  I explained this all, very briefly, to Craig, who just nodded. “Girls night? Okay. Have fun.”

  I got to the Grove just as Sandy poured the first glass of wine. I wasn’t a big wine drinker, but I always took a glass to be polite.

  She leaned across the counter. “I saw you all yesterday, and Sam’s son came in here this afternoon with his little girls. They’d been at the beach, he told me. Very nice.”

  I snagged a slice of smoked Gouda and a cracker. “Yep.”

  “Is he staying?”

  “Nope.” And I moved away.

  Terri found me the minute she walked in. “I can’t believe Craig looks so much like Sam. Is it freaking you out?”

  I nodded. “A little bit.” She’d been on her best behavior when I’d taken Craig in the day before, helping him fill out the form for his PO box and explaining all the little idiosyncrasies of the rural postal service. She’d given the girls lollipops and hadn’t peppered any of them with questions. But I knew they were coming.

  “What’s the plan? Do you know?”

  “He’s going to look for a job, probably across the Bay, sell the bar and move on. Tell anyone interested they have to move fast.” I raised my eyebrows. “You interested?”

  “Oh, honey,” she fanned herself with her open hand as she leaned closer. “Steve McCann came in today, and can I tell you? We had quite a moment.”

  I frowned. “Is he the beard?” Both brothers were pretty goo
d looking, fiftyish, and all that hard construction work had left them with bodies a college athlete would envy. One was taller with very dark hair. The other had hair turning gray and a neatly trimmed beard he’d been wearing even before the hipsters decided beards were cool.

  “No. The beard is Mike. Steve is the taller one. I asked him, hell, practically invited him here tonight, but he said he’d be working out in Quinby.”

  Karen came up holding two glasses of wine. She handed one to Terri. “If you were over here without a drink, I figured it was pretty hot stuff. What’s going on?”

  “Terri and Steve McCann had a moment.”

  Karen’s eyes popped. “Oh?”

  Terri nodded and gulped half her wine. “He’s working out in Quinby. Is there anything to work on in Quinby?”

  “Sure,” Karen said. “Maybe.”

  “Too bad your condo is so perfect,” I said to Terri. “Otherwise you could hire him for some work.” Terri lived right on Main Street. She’d bought a newly renovated condo just five years ago, located, luckily enough for her, right over a very nice shop that sold wine and cheese. Her place was gorgeous, and had a spacious balcony overlooking Main Street and the marina.

  She chewed her lip, a sure sign of serious thinking. “You’re right. I need to get him to work for me.” Her eyes suddenly opened wide. “Hey, remember my old college roommate? Chris Polittano? She’s been down a bunch of times.”

  I nodded, vividly remembering a tiny, very pretty woman who drank like a fish and dared us all to go skinny-dipping in the bay one night. “Yes, I remember her. Why?”

  “Well, she’d been taking care of her mom, who just died, and she left her boyfriend, over a year ago now, and she was saying she needed a change, and I told her she should move down here. And she liked the idea.” She grabbed my arm and shook it. “That place, right on Main down from Bogey’s? That dilapidated cottage? She could buy that. And I could help her do the renovation and remodeling.”

  Karen gave her the side-eye. “You don’t know anything about renovating or remodeling, Terri. Jenna here had to help you hang your pictures, for God’s sake.”

  “I know! That’s the best part. I’d have to hire the McCann brothers! Oh, this is the best idea I’ve ever had.” She looked at her empty glass and hurried over to Sandy.

  Karen looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Is she going to buy a house just to meet a man?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I think Chris is going to buy the house.”

  “Oh.” Karen shrugged. “Okay then.”

  Judd Mitchell, handsome, bald-headed, with a very expensive camera permanently around his neck, sidled up. “Don’t suppose he’s gay?” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “Sorry.”

  He sighed. “All of the good ones are straight,” he muttered.

  Karen and I burst out laughing.

  “How are you, Judd?” He was in his forties and had come down from Baltimore ten years ago to photograph the demolition of the old concrete plant and never left.

  He shrugged. “Lonely.”

  Karen looked up at him. “Hey, I’m lonely too, you know.”

  He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Tell you what. In ten years, if we’re both still single, we’ll get a place together and spend all day watching old sitcoms and eating chips and onion dip.”

  Karen poked him with her elbow. “If I’m still single in ten years I’ll blow my brains out.” She sniffed. “But the chip and dip part sounds pretty good.”

  He wandered off. I looked around the Grove.

  This was my life. These familiar people, these same places. I was comfortable and safe, occasionally happy and generally content. Tonight I would hear two people I’d never heard of perform music that I’d probably enjoy, and then never see or hear them again. Then I’d have a good dinner with good friends, listen to a small jazz band out on the pier, then go home and sleep. Alone. Tomorrow I’d work in the garden and walk my dogs, but tomorrow there would be three little girls, painting rooms I never used, going in and out of my kitchen and living room. Would they chase the dogs? Get in my garden?

  I shook my head. The children that Sam and I had wanted, filling rooms and chasing dogs, were not mine. They belonged to a cautious, quiet man who would leave my house and take those girls with him.

  I had to be careful to remember that.

  We’d talked a lot the night before, but as always, Saturday breakfast was a time for serious conversation about serious things.

  “Terri,” Stella began, “please tell me you’re not going to buy a house just to have an excuse to talk to Steve McCann.”

  Wendy had taken our order and we were all stirring coffee.

  “No.”

  Karen looked over the top of her reading glasses at Stella. “See? I told you she was just drunk when she said it.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t drunk,” Terri said. “And what I did say was that I was going to get Chris to buy a house. Isn’t that what I said, Jenna?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it is. The Farnham place, way down on Main. You also said it was the best idea you ever had, which I think might be up for debate.”

  Stella patted Terri’s hand. “Listen, I know you’ve been watching that man ever since you and Dave broke up, but don’t you think this is a bit extreme?”

  I looked at Terri, surprised. “Really that long? Why didn’t I know this?”

  She shrugged. “Jenna, you spend a lot of time in your own head. You miss all sorts of stuff.”

  “Well, okay, maybe, but Dave left almost a year ago. Steve McCann? Am I really the only one who didn’t know this?”

  Karen sighed noisily. “It hasn’t been widely discussed, if that’s what you mean. But every time his name is mentioned her eyes get all round and soft, and her lower lip trembles.”

  Stella and Marie laughed, and Terri swatted Karen’s hand. “My lip don’t tremble for no man.”

  Marie shook her head. “Actually, the Farnham house is a good investment. Zoned commercial, you know. It was a pretty decent beach rental for years. I’ll never know why old Mr. Farnham’s kid just let it go like that. If he’d sold it right after he died, it would have been worth quite a bit more.”

  “So now,” Terri said, folding her hands, “It’s dirt cheap. I looked on Zillow this morning and sent Chris the link. It looked pretty bad in the photos, but it wouldn’t take much to make it so cute. And then Chris could live right here in Cape Edwards. I know she’d fit right in.”

  “Doesn’t Chris have, like, a job?” I asked. I hated to be the party pooper, but…

  “Well, yes. She’s got her own real estate office on Rehoboth.”

  I almost spit out my coffee. “She’s where? Rehoboth Delaware? You expect her to give up her own office and move down here where there are six established realtors fighting over the same ten houses?”

  Wendy came by, laden with food. “And you know that my mother gets anything and everything that’s worth selling. Those other offices are starving on the dregs. I forgot toast.” She went back to the kitchen.

  Terri sighed and poured syrup on her pancakes “Chris really doesn’t need a job. She got a bunch of money when her mom died.” She froze, and her eyes lit up. “She could be a flipper! You know, buying crappy houses, fixing them up, and then she could sell them. I could be her partner.” The woman’s eyes were practically popping out of her head. “We could have our own TV show!”

  “Oh dear,” Stella muttered.

  “What?” Terri asked, indignant. “I bet we’d be great on TV.”

  Wendy returned with toast. “Mom said they dropped the price on the Farnham place again. Want her to give you a call, Terri?”

  Terri nodded, her mouth full of pancake.

  “Oh dear,” Stella said again. She turned to me. “Craig seems very nice. A bit…somber.”

  I shook my head. “Somber is right. I have not seen him smile once. Totally devoid of a sense of humor.”

  “Now, Jen
na,” Karen chided. “Is that really fair? He was going through a divorce, then his wife died, then his father died, and he had to move out of his house. What, exactly, were you expecting?”

  God, I hated it when she was reasonable. “I don’t know,” I grumbled. “Something else.”

  Stella was spreading grape jam on her toast. “You wanted him to be like Sam,” she said. “Because he looked so much like Sam. But let’s face it, that man was one of a kind. And genetics can only go so far.” She pointed her knife at me as she spoke. “You be careful not to get Sam and his son confused in your brain. They are obviously two very different people, and you would do well to keep reminding yourself of that.” She took a bite of toast and chewed, then swallowed. “In other news, that new doctor came into the shop last night. Very nice looking. Alone. I tried to shoo her down to the Grove, but she said she was just, how did she put it? Easing into the neighborhood.” She grinned. “She’s a sister. Dreadlocks halfway down her back. I’d say midforties? It was very nice to see another successful black woman right here in Cape Edwards. Dara French is her name. She bought towels, two sets of coasters and a martini pitcher.”

  “Well, that’s certainly helpful,” Terri said. “Obviously, she’s an antisocial alcoholic.”

  Marie sniffed. “Maybe not. Could be she’s stockpiling for a great big open house once all her renovations are done. Now, there’s an idea, Terri. You could go over there and volunteer to put up sheetrock. That way, you’ll get close to Steve and give us the scoop on Dr. French.”

  Subtle sarcasm was sometimes lost on Terri. She looked offended. “First of all, I know nothing about sheetrock. Second, Steve might not even be there. He might be up in Quinby, and I’m certainly not going to drive all the way up there.” She looked around. “And I already met Dr. French. She came into the post office and was lovely.”

  “She’s a fine looking woman. I may have to get my sexy back on.” Stella said smugly.

  “Do we know her specialty?” Karen asked. “I could develop symptoms.”

  Stella reached over and slapped Karen’s hand. “You like men, and I know it, so don’t even try to get me riled.”

  Karen grinned. “You know I am an equal opportunity lover.”