“Being your friend?”
If Delia had slapped her, Alex wouldn’t have been any more shocked. Or hurt. “That wasn’t my—I didn’t mean that. I just—”
“You just try and keep out of anything that’s not business. Otherwise, you prefer to stay invisible. It’s what you try to do, anyway. I understand that when life gets real big and real hard, it’s a tempting thing to do. I’ve been there. But you’re here now. And we all see you. So . . . since you can’t hide, I say why waste energy you clearly don’t have back yet, doing something that won’t get you anywhere, anyway?”
Alex just stood there, mouth open. She finally managed to snap it shut. But the best she could manage was, “Okay.”
“Okay, you’ll come to dinner? Or okay you’ll stop being such a shrinking violet when things get personal?”
“I—yes. To dinner. But . . . I don’t shrink. Do I?”
“Like I said, when it’s business? No. You’re up front and ready to go. But let anyone try to get past the business end and show an interest in you personally? Then? Oh yeah, you’re a shrinker.”
“But—”
“Case in point.” Delia aimed a finger at Alex’s chest and the clipboard she was hugging. “You’re either making notes on that damn thing or clutching it to your chest like some kind of shield. Put the armor down every once in a while. You can’t be working all the time.”
Alex looked down at the clipboard she was, in fact, clutching to her chest, and made herself lower it.
“And next time you’re downstairs to eat, close your damn laptop and talk to people. They like you. Or they want to. They respect what you’re doing out on the Point. Work that and make a few friends. You’ve heard of them, too, right?”
Somewhere, Alex found a smile, and it even felt real. “I’ve heard rumors.”
“Well, despite being lousy at it, you’ve already found one.” Delia rolled her eyes when Alex raised a brow in question. “Me, Violet. I’m talking about me.”
Alex’s smile spread and she felt the corners of her eyes sting a little. Delia was the oddest woman she’d ever met, but already she knew she’d gotten very lucky—very lucky, indeed—that Delia had picked her to befriend. “Thank you.”
She started to hug her clipboard again—reflex action—but lowered it as soon as she realized what she was doing. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. With dinner on Thursday.”
Delia grinned. “As a matter of fact, I wanted to bend your ear on a few ideas I had. Spruce up the menu a little. You’re the only one around here who seems to understand about good home cooking that doesn’t come in a casserole dish. We’ll talk. If you ever can’t sleep or we keep you up with the noise, there’s always coffee on in the back of the kitchen. Help yourself.”
“Thank you. For everything. I’m picking up a check from Brodie today, so I’ll give you first and last as soon as I—”
Delia waved her silent. “We’ll figure all that out. Relax. I know where you live.”
Alex smiled at that. “Okay.” Again the clipboard came up, and again she made herself lower it. Then, with a decisive flourish, she tossed it on the couch.
“There you go!” Delia crowed. “Baby steps, but violets don’t sprout and bloom in one day, now do they?”
“I guess not. But they’re hardy little flowers, you know.”
“That I do. But then, I don’t have patience with weak, fragile things.” Delia turned to the door once more.
Alex hesitated, then blurted out, “Can I ask you one thing?”
Delia looked back. “Shoot.”
“You said you knew what it was like. Wanting to be invisible. I—it’s none of my business, but—”
“Oh dear Lord, you are going to take some work. Honey, when it’s between friends, it’s all your business. Don’t apologize for wanting to know me better. Hell, I know all about your business and we haven’t even talked much yet. Fair’s fair, right?” Delia laughed. “Of course, you might wish you’d never asked. But that’s also how it works.”
“So . . . what happened?”
“Well, the long version will require a few adult beverages and some time to kill. The digest version is I married my high school sweetheart right after graduation. Henry Cavanaugh. Fisherman. His folks were first generation here in the Cove. He worked for Blue’s—longtime fishing company based in the harbor. I helped my grandmother run her restaurant. Not this one. It was on the other side of the harbor. We weren’t going off to college. Our lives were here and we knew where we were headed, so he wanted to start a family right away. My grandmother was starting to do pretty poorly, health-wise and I was all she had. I had an older brother, but he joined the military when he was twenty-one. Got himself killed in the Gulf War. So it was just me. I decided to hold off having a family, help Granny. Henry decided he didn’t want to live his whole life stuck here. He wanted more. He got a job offer, industrial fishery in Alaska.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
She shook her head. “I used my Granny as an excuse, and I would have stayed for her alone—what was she going to do without me? But truth be told . . . this is where I want to be. I don’t have the wanderlust. I don’t know how you do it, traipsing all over the world, one job to the next. I know it sounds all glamorous and exciting, but to me . . . it sounds exhausting. I’m more of a rooted person. I need my roots, home, stability. Henry didn’t. And seeing as I hadn’t given him any babies to stick around for, well, he took the job offer.”
“He just . . . left?”
“He might have done a little begging. And maybe I should have at least tried it. He said roots were where you planted them, but I didn’t want to start over. Frankly, I didn’t think he’d stick it out there. Figured he’d be back.”
“So . . . you regret not trying?”
“Not moving away, no. I don’t regret that part. But not honoring him enough to even consider trying? Yeah, that kept me awake at night for a good long while. Who knows, maybe I might have caved, chased after him. Then our restaurant caught fire. No one was hurt, but Granny didn’t have it in her to start over, and the loss sent her downhill a bit faster. So, I started up this place, moved her in with me, and . . . I stayed. Divorce papers showed up eventually. I signed them.” Delia shrugged. “Granny died six months later.”
“Did you think about going out there? Once she was gone. See if there was anything left to salvage?”
Delia shook her head. “He remarried five months after I signed the papers. Already had a baby on the way when Granny passed. He kept in touch with the family he fished for here. They told me. To his credit, he stayed out there. Still there, far as I know. He found his place. Maybe it was because his roots weren’t that deep here that he didn’t feel what I felt. Maybe it was never going to be his place. His folks up and moved out there, too, once he started giving them grandbabies. Somewhere out in Washington State, I think, last I heard, which has been a long time now.
“But the Cove, well, this here is my town. Fifth generation I am. I was born here, my brother was born and buried here, my mom, too, and Granny. Never knew my dad. After Henry left me . . . well . . . I suppose I tried to be a bit invisible, wondering what folks thought of me for not going with him. But there’s no hiding in the Cove. There were a few who whispered, but there were plenty more who supported me for staying and taking care of family. Then I was divorced, Granny was gone, and none of that mattered anymore. Or it shouldn’t have. I could hardly go back and change my mind then anyway, you know?”
“Delia—”
She raised a hand, palm out. “Don’t get maudlin. I’m nineteen years past being maudlin. The bottom line is, I didn’t want to go anywhere before he left, and to be honest, I didn’t want to go anywhere after he or Granny left. I’m a root person, and my roots are here. I need the Cove. It’s part of what I am. It just took a while before I gave myself permission for that to be okay.”
“Did you ever—” Alex broke off, already humbled and moved by Delia’s openness. She shouldn’t pry further.
“Did I ever find another man?” Delia asked.
When Alex nodded, Delia continued. “Honey, I know this feels like a great big revelation, but there isn’t a single person in this town who doesn’t know that story. Or for that matter who doesn’t already know yours. In my case, most of them lived through it with me. Just as they lived through Logan losing his folks in that horrible crash, then him losing his fiancée. We’ve also been there to cheer the good times. It’s not just tragedy that binds us. Bonds are forged through time and shared experiences.
“Sure, we know every last thing about everybody else. It seems intrusive, and it feels that way at times. But it’s also like a kind of big security blanket. To think that a whole town can know every last thing about you, and you’re still welcome, still valued, still loved. No matter what.” She grinned. “Beats even a dog for unconditional love. And you don’t have to walk it twice a day.”
Alex laughed at her analogy, even as Delia’s words made her think. “I guess so. Thanks for sharing with me, anyway. That might not be a big deal to you, but for me . . . it is.”
“I can’t claim to know what it’s like, living out there with no security net like you do. Maybe the thrill of it and the uncertainty is as addictive to you as the steady foundation and security of community is necessary for me. I expect I’ll figure it out when you share some stories about your adventures. We’re all curious, by the way. So start talkin’ already.” Delia smiled. “Who knows, you might surprise yourself and end up with a few more friends. To answer your other question—there have been a few men in my life since Henry, but none I’d marry. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”
“Did you want it to be?”
“Well, I married Henry, didn’t I? But after Granny was gone and I had this place, it was like . . . I got to take care of everyone here. Feed them, listen to their stories. I had my family. Never really could see bringing kids into the picture, so I didn’t need to disappoint yet another husband in that area.” Delia’s grin turned a bit devilish. “Not that men aren’t good for a few other things. But when I want other needs taken care of, well, that’s what summer tourists are for. They’re here, they’re fun, then they’re gone before they can talk.”
Alex laughed at that. “Smart. No muss, no fuss.”
Delia laughed, too. “Well, I’m not saying that for the right man I wouldn’t have minded getting a bit mussed and fussed over, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder.
“You talk like you’re one foot in the grave. You don’t even qualify for a midlife crisis yet. So, you never know. Could still happen.”
“I was forty-two last month, but some days it feels like double that. I’m not saying never, but if it did happen? Well, let’s just say it will be a bigger shock to me than anyone else, and that’s saying quite a bit.”
“You know what they say, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. So . . . you just never know.”
“No, I guess you don’t. I mean, who expected you? But I’m glad you’re here. And clearly so is our very fine and very eligible police chief.” Delia wiggled her eyebrows. “Now there’s a man it would be a shame to waste. How he’s kept his bachelor membership card this long, I’ll never know. But if he’s set his sights on you, well . . . that’s a life plan I’d say is worth considering, you know?”
Before Alex could even decide how to respond to that, Delia went on. “Okay, now I really have to get down there and prep for lunch rush. Meatloaf sandwiches on the menu today from last night’s dinner special. Better today, if you ask me. Come down later and we’ll talk turkey. And dressing.”
Alex grinned, thinking it was a good thing she wanted to go along with that plan, since most likely Delia would just wear her down anyway. “Okay. I have appointments, but I’ll be back before dinnertime.”
Alex shivered a little as the cool air whipped in when Delia let herself out. Even after the door closed, she remained where she stood, thinking
what the hell just happened?
It was . . . well . . . she didn’t quite know what it was, or what she thought about it, but she was smiling, and her brain didn’t feel as jumbled as it had when she’d left Pelican Point that morning, or maybe it was just jumbled in a new way. Whatever it was, she’d have to think about it later. The hardware store would already be open and she needed to talk to Owen.
About the lighthouse.
Oh boy.
She grabbed her clipboard from the couch and fished out her truck keys, Delia’s summation echoing through her mind the whole time.
You don’t look ready.
She let herself out and used her new key to lock the door to her newest temporary home. “Yeah, well, this is apparently as ready as it gets,” she said under her breath as she trotted down the back steps.
She hoped Owen’s enthusiasm would add some of the calm she’d sought as she’d stared out over the harbor, or at the very least make her feel more confident about the next step she was about to take. If everyone did indeed know about her dad, maybe she wouldn’t have to explain to Owen why she was going to be a wee bit shaky about the whole thing. Or a lot shaky.
Five minutes later, she was standing on the sidewalk in front of Hartley’s Hardware, peering through the window of the locked front door. There was no note taped to it, and the sign clearly said he opened at nine. It was half past already.
She drummed her fingers on the back of her clipboard, then looked down, made a face at herself, and lowered the damn thing to her side. “How else do you carry a clipboard if not up against your body?”
Irritated more with herself than Owen’s unexpected absence, she turned and looked down Harbor Street. Maybe he’d stopped by one of the other shops that lined the narrow road, which angled downhill to the water and wrapped around the harbor, hence the name. Her luck, he was probably back at Delia’s having breakfast.
A brisk wind chose that moment to swirl down the skinny brick sidewalk, catching the papers on her clipboard. No longer shielded by her body, they were snatched right off and sent tumbling through the air like so many autumn leaves off a tree.