Part 2 (1/2)
”It's actually not that much more than what Mom left us,” Caroline said. ”We could probably offer less. If we pooled our inheritance money-”
”No,” Gracie said quickly. ”That money is going to the kids.”
Sam wished Gracie hadn't reacted so quickly or so forcefully, but she understood her sister's point. Their mother had managed to squirrel away a substantial amount of money in sixty years, and that plus her life insurance meant that the sisters had each inherited a healthy sum when she died. If they put their money together, it would come close to the asking price, but Sam had a.s.sumed she would save her portion. She was retired, after all, and it made her feel better to have something in the bank for a rainy day.
”Don't look at me that way, Gracie,” Caroline said.
”What way?”
”With that full-of-doubt face. It's the same one you were wearing right after I graduated from high school and I told you I was going to hitchhike to Hollywood.”
”You'd never acted in your life!”
”But I had dreams.”
”Pipe dreams. If they had been more than that, you might have gotten to Hollywood instead of stopping at the end of our street and coming home again with a change of heart. And then suddenly you wanted to be an archaeologist.”
”Okay, so Hollywood might have been a little far-fetched-”
”And I had to give up my dream to move into your bedroom and no longer share with Sam.” Gracie attempted to laugh, but Sam knew it was halfhearted. ”Hollywood was completely impulsive. So was archaeology, like so many other things you've done in life.”
”If I wasn't impulsive, I wouldn't have traveled to nearly every corner of the earth. I wouldn't have done things or seen things that most human beings will never do or see in their lifetime.”
”But they weren't long-term endeavors. You can pick up and travel to Timbuktu for one or two days and never get tired of where you are. But would you still be fascinated with Timbuktu if you had to stay there, sweeping out a dirt hut or whatever they do there, for months at a time? Maybe years?”
”I know what you're getting at, Gracie. You think I have zero stick-to-itiveness.”
”I don't think, Caroline. I know.”
Sam stood up quickly and started gathering the plates. ”Who's ready for some dessert? I made a blueberry crisp, with berries fresh from the farmers' market.”
Neither of her sisters responded. Caroline's short blonde hair, so different from the long blonde braid she'd had the last time they'd seen each other, whipped around when she looked up at Sam.
Sam supposed it had to have happened sometime. Those two had fought like cats and dogs when they were kids. Maybe this fight had been building for a long time. But she also knew it was a ridiculous fight. Caroline was just dreaming. She wasn't serious about buying the inn-not serious enough to see such a huge project through anyway. Surely Gracie could see that.
”There's nothing wrong with dreaming, Gracie,” Caroline said quietly.
”No,” Gracie finally exhaled. ”I guess there's not.”
At long last, Caroline laughed. Gracie stared at the table and slowly but surely, as Sam had hoped, managed a smile.
”There. That's much better.” Sam dropped the dirty plates on the granite counter just inside the French doors and came back out with a dish of warm blueberry crisp. ”Now, please tell me you have all of the aggression completely out of your system, and that I won't wake up tomorrow morning having to clean up blood,” she said as she used a big spoon to scoop the crisp onto fresh dessert plates.
Caroline brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ”It's a promise.”
Gracie was a little more reluctant, but at last she came around. ”Sorry.” She reached across the table and squeezed Caroline's hand. ”I guess it's just hard . . .” She let her voice trail off.
”What do you mean?” Caroline asked.
Sam readied herself to play peacemaker again. ”This blueberry crisp is delicious, if I do say so myself,” she said. Then she noticed that neither Caroline nor Gracie had touched theirs.
Finally, Gracie spoke up. ”What do you say we go in and watch the movie?”
”You can't make a statement like that, Gracie, and then ignore me when I ask what you're talking about,” Caroline said.
”It's nothing,” Gracie said, picking up her dessert plate. ”I'll finish this inside.”
”Do you know what she's talking about?” Caroline asked Sam, after Gracie slipped through the French doors and went into the house.
”I don't know,” Sam admitted, ”although . . .” She shrugged.
”Oh no, you don't,” Caroline said. ”Gracie might have gotten away with ignoring me, but you can't start a sentence with although and then drop it. Although what?”
Sam sighed. She hated to tell tales, especially about Gracie, but it was high time Caroline knew some of what was going on in Gracie's head. ”She had a really tough time after Mom was diagnosed with cancer. I was still teaching, and even if I hadn't been, I would have had a ten-hour drive to get to Portland, so most of the burden fell to Gracie. She had to do everything for Mom. The last couple of months were especially bad-”
”I would have come sooner if I'd known.”
”Yes, but Mom didn't want you to know.”
”Why not?”
”Because you had such a tough time handling Dad's death.”
”So did you; so did Gracie.”
Sam remembered picking Caroline up from the airport two days after their father pa.s.sed away. She'd flown in from Prague. She'd spent the hours before her flight inside St. Vitus Cathedral, praying for their father to survive. She hadn't slept a wink since their mother had called her with the news. Caroline's once-pretty blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and her cheeks were hollow. She looked like she'd aged ten years in the six months since they'd seen each other. And then she couldn't eat; she wouldn't eat.
”You were a mess, Caroline.” Sam took a bite of the warm crisp.
”Yeah, I guess I was. Not just during the funeral, but for the next few months. But we were a lot younger then, and Dad and I had been so close when I was little. Still”-Caroline sighed-”I loved Mom. I would have done anything for her. I should have been given the chance to come back to the States to help out. Gracie should have told me she was so sick.” Caroline stabbed at her dessert with her fork.
”You were there the last month. That's all that matters.”
”But if Gracie resents-”
”No, Caroline, that's not it at all. Gracie doesn't resent you, but really . . . I'm the wrong person to explain Gracie's comment. That's between the two of you. Now come on”-Sam picked up the plates left on the table-”help me clean up this mess. Then let's get into our pj's and watch a.r.s.enic and Old Lace. It's been a long day, and I think we all need a good laugh.”
It was nearly ten thirty that night when Sam's cell phone rang. She'd just climbed under the crisp floral sheets on one of the two twin beds in her room at the cottage. She was comfy and cozy, but she rolled over to grab the phone off the nightstand and answered it quickly. She smiled when she heard her daughter Jamie's voice at the other end. Jamie's father had been out of the picture for a long time, and Sam had always been especially close to her daughter.
”I didn't wake you, did I?”
”Oh no. We just finished watching an old Cary Grant movie and I'm stuffed on extra-b.u.t.tery popcorn and M&Ms. I'll probably have a headache in the morning, and I'm sure my ribs are going to ache from laughing so hard.”
”Sounds like a great way to start your vacation.”
Except for the argument between Caroline and Gracie, but Sam wasn't about to tell Jamie about that.
”Is Aunt Gracie relaxing?” Jamie asked. ”Or at least trying to relax?”
”You know that doesn't come all that easily for her.”