Текст книги "Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding"

Автор книги: Lea Wait

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 4

Picturesque New England Industries: Lobstering Off Scituate. (From Sketches by Joseph Becker.)Full page from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, May 21, 1887, including a paragraph on the lobster industry, and sketches of setting the traps (“lobster boats are a species of small lugger, with one large sail and one small one”), measuring the lobster (“none less than 10½ inches long may be kept”), pegging the claws, and arriving at a boiling and canning factory. Black and white. The way life used to be. 10.5 x 16 inches. Price: $65.

“Don’t panic about the dress I showed you,” Gussie said after she and Maggie were settled at her old home and the wine was flowing. “It’s being shipped back to Atlanta tomorrow. I told Lily, Jim’s mother: this is my wedding, and Jim’s. I only kept the dresses this long because I wanted to show you the sort of challenge we’ve been facing.”

“Along with the painters and carpenters and moving your home and store, and basically, changing your entire life,” Maggie added.

“That’s all!” said Gussie. “Now, let’s relax and enjoy the mussels. They should be eaten while they’re still warm.”

“No problem here,” Maggie agreed. “There’s no place to get decent food on the road, and the ‘everything’ bagel I bought at the Bridgewater Diner this morning was gone a long time ago.”

The wine-and-herb-steamed mussels disappeared much too fast, and they dug into their baked lobsters stuffed with crabmeat with gusto.

“Mmmm. Nothing like this in Jersey. Just promise you won’t tell Will I ate a lobster caught outside Maine waters,” Maggie said, leaning back and taking a sip of her wine. “He won’t even consider Massachusetts lobsters.”

“Maine lobsters are pretty darn good,” Gussie acknowledged, savoring a particularly sweet piece of the tail, “but I believe in comparison eating. Especially when you can get lobsters locally.”

“And this restaurant really knows how to prepare seafood,” Maggie agreed. “Fresh, and not overcooked. Too many chefs have a heavy hand with shellfish.”

“Which is why we’re having our reception at the Winslow Inn,” said Gussie. “No baked lobsters, I’m afraid, but we think they’ll do a great job. We’re taking over a room for about seventy-five, which should be the number of guests.”

“You don’t know yet?”

“People are notorious about not returning those RSVP cards. Everyone who warned us was right. We’ve only heard from about half those we invited.”

“That’s incredibly inconsiderate,” said Maggie.

“Indeed,” agreed Gussie. “Another day and we’ll have to start telephoning people. We’ve just had too many other things to do.”

“Well, I’m here to help now. And Jim gets major points for having a scrumptious feast prepared that the two of us could eat in peace this first night.”

Maggie looked around the living room of what had been Gussie’s home for as long as they’d been friends: the second floor above Aunt Augusta’s Attic, the shop where Gussie sold her antique dolls, toys, and children’s books. Several years ago the progression of Gussie’s Post-Polio Syndrome had convinced her to add a chairlift from the downstairs to her apartment. She still used her old wheelchair, and sometimes a walker, to go a few steps when she was at home, but doctors had told her to stress her muscles as little as possible, and at forty-nine, she knew it was time to listen. Two years ago she’d moved to an electric scooter for when she was at the shop or “out in the world,” as she put it.

“It looks as though you’ve packed most of your things,” Maggie commented. “Your bookcases are empty, and except for the furniture we’re using, this room is empty.”

Gussie nodded. “Except for the biggest pieces of furniture, and those in my bedroom, we’ve been moving things to the other house. But the closets are still full. I need your help packing seasonal things, and treasures like the Limoges dinner set my Great-aunt Jane left me that I’ve never used, but never could bear to sell. A lot is stored higher than I can reach.”

“I hear my marching orders,” Maggie said, nodding between bites. “No problem. Just tell me what you want packed, and what you don’t want to take.”

“At this point, pack everything. I’ll make decisions at the other end,” said Gussie. “I’ll finish the packing in the shop so I’ll know exactly what’s in each carton. I have to get the new store up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m impressed that you have a new location for the store already.”

“I’ll show you tomorrow. The economy was on my side, and I actually had a few choices. Several businesses in Winslow failed recently.”

“Ouch.”

“I know. But it meant I got a good price on a shop that’s closer to the center of town, so traffic should be good. It’s bigger than the one I had, too, with a back-room office that will be a big help.”

“And it’s accessible?”

“Carpenters are working on that. Plumbers have already put the fixtures in a handicapped-accessible bathroom. The new shelving and counters are about done, and the whole space is being painted. I’m hoping you can help me unpack and set up while you’re here. I’m aiming at opening the new and improved Aunt Augusta’s Attic the week after the wedding.”

“In time for the Christmas season.”

“In time for Thanksgiving, if all works out. My busiest time of the year is October through December. I’ve lost most of October this year, but I’m hoping the new space will help me catch up. That’s one reason Jim and I aren’t taking a honeymoon right now. We want to get our house in order, my shop opened, and then, maybe in January or February, when everything’s slowed to a frozen snail’s pace on the Cape, we’ll take a cruise to somewhere warm.”

“I can’t get over how much you’ve done, so fast,” said Maggie. “When I was here in July for the Provincetown show you and Jim were just a—dare I say, comfortable?—couple! And now…everything’s changed.” The shadows of where paintings and prints had once hung were now ghost-like shapes on the muted wallpaper, empty cartons were stacked next to full ones, and the room where she and Gussie had sat and shared dreams and confidences so many times already looked vacant. Maggie felt a little queasy. Maybe it was the mussels. Or maybe it was Gussie’s life, changing so quickly.

“It’s good, Maggie. It’s good not to get so set in your ways that you can’t allow your world to be shaken up a little,” said Gussie. “Jim had to push me, I’ll admit. But he was right. The new house is going to be wonderful, and the new shop is better than I dreamed. I needed that push.”

“You’re making a lot of decisions, fast.”

“Maybe. But it all makes sense. Jim was the right guy, and it was time to move on. And I finally admitted it to myself,” agreed Gussie. “He doesn’t seem to mind that I come equipped with wheels and can’t do everything I’d love to do. It bothers me a lot more than it seems to bother him. It took me a long time to believe that, but now I do.”

“I’m so happy for you!” said Maggie. “I am.” She stood up. “In fact, I think it’s time to open the first bottle of that champagne I brought for us. Then we can talk about whatever wedding issues are pending. Besides that hideous dress you showed me, which I’m very glad to hear will be heading south tomorrow.” She went toward the kitchen, hoping for a minute to take a deep breath. She was happy for Gussie. She was. Gussie was her best friend, and now she had everything she wanted. It all sounded so easy. Why wasn’t life as easy for her?

“Maybe all this talk about weddings will give you and Will some ideas,” Gussie called out to her.

Maggie yanked the cork out of the champagne bottle and bubbly wine ran down the sides.

“Will and I are fine,” said Maggie, returning with the bottle and two glasses. “He’s moved himself and his business from Buffalo to Maine so he can keep an eye on his Aunt Nettie, who’s in her nineties. He has his hands full, and I have my teaching.”

“There are schools in Maine. You’re not wedded to New Jersey, Maggie, any more than I was wedded to this building.”

Maggie handed Gussie a glass and then raised her own. “To us. And to decisions. The ones we’ve made, and the ones we’re making now. May they enrich our lives!”

They touched glasses, and each took a generous sip.

Gussie looked at Maggie quizzically. “All right, old friend. We’re here tonight because of my wedding. But I’ve known you long enough to know we just drank to something else, too. What’s happening? What decision?”

“You mustn’t tell Will. It’s between you and me for now.”

Gussie put her glass down. “Oh, Maggie! You’ve met someone else? Tell me. I promise. I won’t say anything.”

“No! Nothing like that. Or,” Maggie hesitated, “not exactly like that. I’ve finally decided to go ahead and adopt a child. Or children. As a single parent. I filled out my application last week. My home study should be finished by Christmas.”

“Oh, Maggie!” Gussie put down her glass and looked at Maggie. “What should I say?”

“Say you’re happy for me! You know I’ve wanted to be a mother for years. I’ve finally gotten up the courage to do something about it. I’ve applied to Our World, Our Children, the agency that benefitted from the antiques show we did last May. I’ve told them I’d like to adopt a girl between the ages of five and nine, but two sisters would be fine, too.”

Gussie hesitated. “Are you sure, Maggie? That’s a big step. Especially when you know Will doesn’t want to be a father.”

“I’m sure,” said Maggie, holding tightly to her glass and taking another, deeper sip of champagne. “I’m getting older. I need to make this decision now. Will moved to Maine to take care of his aunt. That’s important to him, and I love Aunt Nettie, too. But being a mother is important to me. I don’t want to wake up and realize I’ve given up something I really wanted to do because someone else didn’t want to do it. This decision is mine. Will’s decisions, whatever they are, are his.”

“I have to ask. Is there any chance he’ll change his mind about parenthood?”

“I hope so. He’s told me he likes children. Oh, hell, Gussie, he used to be a high school teacher! But his wife had an ectopic pregnancy and bled to death, and he got it in his mind that he didn’t want children. He stopped teaching after she died, and decided he didn’t wanted the responsibility of being a father. He’s been clear on that point. Believe me. But I keep hoping.”

“When will you tell him what you’ve done?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if my home study will be approved.”

“You’ve been involved with that agency for almost a year. They know you. The chances are very good you’ll be approved, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Maggie said quietly. “I think I’ll be approved.”

“Then you have to tell him, Maggie. He’s a big part of your life. You have to tell him now. You can’t wait until you have a referral for a child. You have to give him another chance to think about what you’re doing.”

“I will, Gussie. I promise. But not right now. This week is all about your wedding!”

That’s when Gussie’s phone rang.

Chapter 5

The Georgia Delegation in Congress.Winslow Homer wood engraving published on cover of Harper’s Weekly (The Journal of Civilization) Saturday, January 5, 1861. A montage of the faces of the Georgia delegation, by Winslow Homer, based on photographs taken by famous Civil War photographer Mathew Brady at his studio in Washington, D.C. The Georgia delegation pictured had already seceded from the Union when this newspaper was printed. 11 x 16 inches. Edges slightly uneven; otherwise, excellent condition. Price: $225.

Gussie put down her champagne, picked up her cell phone, and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Ike Irons.” She looked at Maggie. “Guess I’d better pick it up. Yes, Ike? Yes, she’s here. Just a minute.” She put her hand over the phone. “It’s for you.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows, but took the phone. “Hello? This is Maggie Summer. Yes, this afternoon, on the beach.” There was a pause. “I see. No. I told you; I didn’t touch the body. I’d be happy to come down to the station.” She looked over at Gussie. “Gussie will tell me where it is.” Gussie nodded. “I see. No. I’ll be in town until after the wedding. Thank you.” Maggie handed the phone back.

“What was that all about? I mean, I know it was about Dan Jeffrey’s body, that was clear from this end of the conversation. Did Ike forget to have you sign some paper or other?” Gussie picked up her glass again.

“No; it was more than that,” Maggie said slowly. “He just heard from the medical examiner. Dan Jeffrey didn’t drown. He was shot.”

“No,” said Gussie. “That means…”

“He was murdered. Shot in the head, before he went into the water. So now they need a more detailed statement than they did when I’d just found the body of a man who’d drowned. It seems I found a murder victim.”

“Now we have to go to see Cordelia in the morning,” said Gussie. “I guess after you make your statement. The poor woman.”

“You said she didn’t have many friends here?”

“Not that I know of. I see her at the post office, and the library. I’ve seen her more often in the past few months because she lives down the beach from our new house, but off another road. I smile and nod, and she does the same. Once last August she brought over a tray of muffins while Jim and I were talking with the contractor.”

“What about the man who was killed?”

“Jim knew him a little. He’d lived with Cordelia a couple of years, I think. He may have been her cousin, but he wasn’t at all like her. He was much rougher around the edges. You remember Jim said he drank; he’d seen him at the Lazy Lobster a few times.”

“The Lazy Lobster?”

“It’s a sports bar popular with local fishermen. Where you can hoist a draft and fill up on thick chowder or a burger while you’re watching the Pats or Sox and not worry anyone’s going to complain you smell of fish. Not the kind of place where a lot of people order champagne.” Gussie lifted her glass in Maggie’s direction.

“I’m sorry this Dan Jeffrey was murdered, Gussie, but I won’t be able to help the police. I didn’t see anything that will help their investigation. I’m here to help you and Jim with your move and your wedding. I’ve got my marching orders: pack closets, and when directed, help unpack at the new and brilliantly improved Aunt Augusta’s Attic.”

Gussie raised her arm and saluted. “Exactly!” She reached out her glass. “Is there a little more of that champagne? Between the move and the wedding, and now a murder, I think I could use another glass.”

“Filling up, Captain!” Maggie topped off both of their glasses. “And now I need to hear about that wedding. Somehow we’ve managed to put it off long enough. The happiest day in a woman’s life and all that, you know.”

“That’s what people say, don’t they?” Gussie smiled, a little lopsidedly. “Well, like I told you when I called in August to tell you the news. We planned a small wedding. After all, I’m not exactly a blushing bride. It’ll be my second wedding, and although Jim’s managed to escape the joys of matrimony so far, he’s a typical man. The simpler the better for him. We invited our friends from Winslow, of course, and you and Will, and a few of my antiques friends. Jim’s family is in Georgia and South Carolina, and he’s an only child, so we didn’t think any of them would come except his mother, and maybe a stray cousin. I have Ellen and Ben and a couple of relatives near Boston who might decide to drive down and see who I finally decided to marry. Add everyone together and we thought, maximum, maybe fifty people. Since we were sure we’d have the house fixed up by then,” here Gussie rolled her eyes, “we planned a catered reception there, sort of a combination wedding and housewarming. Then, when it was clear the house wouldn’t be in party shape, we moved the reception to the Winslow Inn. And that would be it. You and Ellen would be my attendants, and Jim’s invited Ben, and Andy Sullivan, his best friend and law partner, to stand up with him. So that covers the wedding party.”

“All sounds great so far,” said Maggie. “Just large enough. Manageable. Festive. Perfect! And how sweet of Jim to ask Ben.”

“Wasn’t it?” said Gussie. “Ben’s thrilled, of course. Now that he’s twenty-one he’s been invited to a few weddings of people he grew up with, but it’s been a little hard for him. He’s never had a girlfriend, and he talks about girls all the time. Other than that he seems happy to live at home with Ellen and work for me at the shop and at shows. Ellen and I’ve talked about whether it might be better for him if he spread his wings and lived in a halfway house, with other young people who have the same challenges he does. Maybe he’d meet a young woman who has Down’s, like he does, or find other friends.”

“Are there any group homes near here?”

“Only a few on the Cape, and those have long waiting lists.”

Maggie shook her head. “I can see the issues. Well, that’s Ben. And you’ve told me what you and Jim wanted your wedding to be like. So I assume something happened to change your plans. Talk!”

Gussie sighed. “It’s Jim’s mother. She’d met me once, about two years ago, so she knew about the PPS. Jim was worried she’d feel he shouldn’t marry someone with a disability, so he didn’t even tell her about the wedding right away. He waited until we had our plans made. He made reservations for her at the nicest B and B in town, the same place you’ll be staying after I move into the new house. Then he told her.”

“She was upset?”

“Turned out my PPS wasn’t an issue. She was delighted! Finally her baby boy—Jim’s fifty-two, Maggie—is getting married, and she’s thrilled. Jim was so relieved he didn’t see the flags flying when she started asking about my family.”

“Your family? You and Ellen?”

“That’s it. Ellen and Ben and I are about it. When Jim told her my parents had died years ago she went into overdrive. She set out to help us. She sees herself as the mother of the bride.”

“What?”

“Turns out she’s spent the last fifty years dreaming of her baby boy’s wedding day, and she’s dying to make sure it turns out just right. The way she’s always dreamed it would be. She wanted to come here in September, as soon as she heard. Jim’s held her off because of our moving. But she’s been calling Jim or me four or five times a day, always with new, helpful, ideas. And doing things, like sending the dresses, as ‘surprises’! If I hear the word ‘surprise!’ one more time…!”

Maggie tried not to laugh. She held up the bottle of champagne and poured what was left into Gussie’s glass. “Keep talking. I assume you and Jim explained to her, like the grown-ups you most assuredly are, that this was your wedding, and it was arranged the way you both wanted it.”

“That would be about the time she started crying.” Gussie grimaced. “For the first time. That woman is a master manipulator. How Jim emerged as a sane adult is beyond me.”

“Let me guess. You and Jim decided to compromise. Let her contribute a little to the wedding.”

“Exactly. It seemed the kindest thing to do. And after all, we were so tied up with the construction on the house, and the store, and moving, and Jim can’t exactly put his law practice on hold, even for a wedding. We decided to turn over some of the details to her, since most of the wedding was planned anyway. What harm could she do? We’d tell her what we’d decided, and let her make some of the minor decisions.”

“And?”

“It’s gone downhill from there.” Gussie drained her champagne glass. “You saw the dress she rented for you. She thought it was awful that I’d told you and Ellen you could wear whatever you’d like, and that I’d decided to wear a pale yellow dress. Horrors! All on her very own, believe me, she found a place in Georgia that would deliver overnight and ordered two dresses like the one you saw, for you and Ellen, and a flower girl dress, since every wedding must have a flower girl. She’s still calling around to relatives Jim didn’t even know he had trying to find one who’ll fly in and play that role. Her alternative suggestion, I swear, is for me to go to the local elementary school and find ‘a cute little miss with curls’ to fit the costume.”

“She really wanted Ellen and me to wear Gone With the Wind sorts of dresses in a New England Congregational Church in the twenty-first century?” Maggie asked, still fixated on the vision she’d seen earlier.

Gussie nodded. “Believe it. You should have seen Ellen’s expression. She took one look at her dress and asked if we were changing the date of our wedding to Halloween. And by the way, Lily even made you both dressmaker’s appointments with a woman in Provincetown. Bless the Internet.”

“But at least she left you alone? You already had a dress you’d chosen.”

Gussie chortled until the tears rolled down her face. “No, Maggie. Not a chance. She ordered a dress for me, too. Open the door of the closet in back of you.”

Maggie got up, a bit unsteadily, and threw open the door, more dramatically than she’d planned.

Inside was hanging something that appeared to be an enormous white balloon, above which was a small tight bodice. Maggie looked again. The balloon was supported by the largest hoop she’d ever seen.

She turned back to Gussie. “What is it?”

“Lily’s choice for my wedding dress,” Gussie explained. “It has a hoop, which Lily somehow felt I could wear by putting the hoop over my scooter. She also sent a veil, which Jim’s great-grandmother wore, so I could carry on a family tradition.”

Gussie and Maggie looked at each other, and looked at the dress.

“We have to burn it,” said Maggie. “Not the veil. That would be mean. But the dress? Definitely.”

Gussie started to giggle. And then they both burst into hysterical laughter.