The Guestbook (13 page)

February continued to be a long, wet month. Lily turned the calendar page; tomorrow was March first. Jude had promised her that the days would begin to get longer and the sun would appear more often.

Lily paced her bedroom floor. She was sick of worrying and dealing with divorce issues, and there was really nothing more she could do in the house. Mary kept it spotless, and she had tested every recipe that she thought Jude and the grocer might buy from her. Cash was flowing in steadily, just enough to cover the utilities and food, but the promised temporary alimony had never materialized.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out the Guestbook. With closed eyes, she opened to a random page and read the entry:

Three friends came to stay looking for rest and relaxation. We found a priceless treasure of views, sunrises, stargazing, and magical walks along the sand. We giggled all night, and it replenished our souls. Thank you for sharing your beauty with the rest of the world. We leave here wiser and happier women
.

Lily glanced out the window. She could use some R&R herself. The rain had finally stopped, and there were patches of blue in the sky. If she left now, she could run into town, find something very chocolaty to lift her spirits, and possibly hit the thrift shop as well. The decision propelled her out of the house and into the car. She headed up Sunshine Lane toward the main road, humming “Happy Days are Here Again.” Her grandmother had loved to sing that song and make up new lyrics for it. Lily’s favorite verse had been something like: It’s time for a chocolate soda again.

Perfect. That’s what she’d do. A bit of shopping and then a tall soda at the old- fashioned ice cream place. She turned on the radio and sang along to some of the pop songs. The day was hers to do whatever she wanted with it.

Weekday parking was pretty easy to get in town, so she pulled the car right in front of Island Creamery. The “open” sign was a welcome sight. Many of the shops closed during winter months or were open only on the weekend. Memories of coming here with her grandmother flooded her mind. How she wished Maggie were here. The booth where they used to sit in the window was filled with a little girl and an elderly woman, probably her grandmother. If only she could go back in time. But she had the present. Her grandmother left her the inn and wanted her to thrive and be happy there. She would do everything in her power to make that happen. But she could not walk into the ice cream place until her heart settled.

Hands that Help Thrift was right across the street. Lily wandered over and peaked through the window. Crowded. This was a popular destination shop for the locals.

She pushed open the door and began scouting. The front shelves were full of dishes, vases, knickknacks, and other memorabilia. She picked up an antique rose teacup and saucer set. The smooth surface and markings on the bottom of the cup revealed it was
English bone china. It would be lovely for serving morning tea and coffee to guests in the Rose Suite at Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast. If it was still open. Lily imagined putting a tray together: steaming coffee, warm almond croissants, a small dish of fresh fruit garnished with herbs from her garden, a bud vase with fresh-picked flowers. How would she get the money to reopen it? Reluctantly, she placed the teacup back on the shelf and wandered toward the back, where the clothing was.

“Lily, is that you, dear?”

Lily turned to see her neighbor, Shirley, trying on a fancy hat in the mirror.

“Shirley, so good to see you.”

“What do you think of this hat? Too much for me?”

Lily suppressed a smile. Was anything too much for Shirley? “I think it’s very flattering. The red velvet brim sets off your blonde hair quite nicely.”

Shirley leaned toward the mirror. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Lily replied.

Shirley pulled the hat off and put it in her plastic basket with the rest of her finds. “Let’s find something for you now, Lily.”

They perused the racks of clothing, pulling out a sweater here, a jacket there.

“What do you think of this?” Shirley asked, holding up a teal green sweater with a cowl neck.

Lily checked the label. It was a good brand and just her size. “Love it.” The price was $3.99. “Can’t beat the price, even I can afford that.”

“And,” Shirley said, “I have the perfect scarf to go with that at home. I’ll bring it over and see what you think.”

Lily could only imagine what the scarf might look like, but the offer was kind.

“Ready to check out?” Shirley asked.

“Ready when you are.”

After they paid for their purchases, Lily helped Shirley put her new items in her car. “Where you headed now?” Shirley asked.

“I thought I might head across the street and have a tall chocolate soda. Want to join me?” Lily asked.

Shirley looped her large gold handbag over her shoulder. “Let’s go. Two sodas, my treat.”

The ice cream parlor looked exactly the way it had almost twenty years ago when Lily had last been here. They were seated in a red leather booth that glistened in the overhead lights. The gray Formica table still had a coin-operated jukebox on it. Lily pulled out a few quarters and dropped them in the slot. “What would you like to hear, Shirley?”

Lily turned each page slowly, reading the song titles out loud. “How about the Everly Brothers or ‘Put Your Head on my Shoulder’ by Paul Anka? Or, if you like,  ‘Don’t Be Cruel,’ by the King?”

“Love them all, you pick,” Shirley said.

A famous crooner’s voice echoed through the parlor on the brassy speakers as they both read over the laminated menu.

“Can I take your order?” the waitress asked, holding a pencil and order pad in her hands.

“
I’ll have the cheeseburger with fries and a vanilla Coke,” Shirley said.

“I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich and a chocolate soda with vanilla ice cream,” Lily said.

Shirley laid her menu down and looked intently at Lily. “So, tell me the truth, how are you doing?”

Lily was taken aback for a moment. Shirley did not mince words. But she knew this woman would listen and give her honest feedback. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been going over my finances and trying to figure out if I could make a go of reopening the B&B.”

“I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to,” Shirley said.

Lily thought about the court battle still going on and how up in the air her financial stability was. Could she even consider such an ambitious plan as starting a new business?

“Do you really think so, Shirley?”

“Of course. You know, your grandmother, after all her losses, managed to get that place together, open the inn and have a thriving business. You’re a lot like her, you know.”

“I am?” Lily asked.

“You just need a bit more confidence in yourself. Don’t let that cheating husband of yours bring you down. In fact, show him just what you’re made of.”

The waitress brought their food over and placed it on the table. Lily sipped on her creamy soda while she watched Shirley pour ketchup over her fries and cut her burger in half before diving into her lunch. Her grandmother had lost her husband. Only a year later her only son, Lily’s father, had borrowed money and left town after deserting his wife and daughter. If that wasn’t enough, Katherine had skipped the state with Lily in hand, and they had never spoken again. If her grandmother could get through all that and still run a business with such love and grace, so could Lily.

“Your grandmother just did what she loved, and everything worked out just fine. It will for you too,” Shirley said, stuffing another fry in her mouth.

Lily took a bite of her sandwich and washed it down with another sip from the long straw in her soda. “I’m so glad you were her friend.”

Shirley’s eyes looked warm and sympathetic. “Don’t waste time on the past. Your grandmother would only want you to be happy. That dad of yours caused lots of heartache. It was
not
your fault.”

Happy…Lily let that word resonate in her head. Other than as a child here on the island and for a few brief moments with Brad, she had not known much happiness. Perhaps it was time she did. “I’m so glad my grandmother had you and Betty as neighbors and friends.”

Shirley winked at Lily. “We had some good times together. It wasn’t all hard work, there was plenty of play.”

“I bet there was,” Lily said with a smile.

When the check came, Shirley insisted on paying. “Well at least let me leave the tip,” Lily said.

“Not today,” Shirley said, taking cash out of her large pocketbook. “My treat.”

“Where are you off to?” Lily asked.

“Grocery store, then home for a nap,” Shirley replied. “See you soon.”

Lily headed back to her car and settled into the driver’s seat. Before fastening her seatbelt, she let their conversation wash through her mind. Three generations of women with challenges all centered around the men in their lives. Her grandmother had
overcome her grief, had success and happiness in her life. Her mother had done much the same. It was Lily’s turn.

Ian stood at the doorway, kicked some mud off his boots, and wiped the soles on the coarse welcome mat. The kitchen wood stove kept the pine-paneled room toasty and was a welcome refuge from the constant rain, the howling wind, the sting of rejection. He’d been gone a few weeks and was really looking forward to seeing Lily again. But when he stopped by to ask her out for dinner, she’d made some excuse about being too tired.

“Sit down, Ian, I’ll make us some coffee,” John offered. Ian moved toward the stove to help, but John waved him away. “Hey, your old gramps can do it himself. Sit down, take a load off.”

Ian removed his coat, plopped into the carved oak dining chair, and stared out the window toward Lily’s farmhouse. John brought two mugs of coffee over and joined Ian at the old Formica kitchen table. Ian had loved the bright shiny red surface as a boy, but it was pretty faded now.

“How’s your work coming along for the show in New York?”

“Going well, Gramps. One show behind me where I sold several paintings, and another show coming up in April.”

“Good thing so many people turned out for your show with this lousy weather.” John took a sip of his coffee. “Oh, by the way, Jason went over to Wilcox’s house to play with Tim. He wants to know if he can spend the night.”

Ian rose and walked over to the phone. “Sure, I’ll give them a call.” As he dialed, Ian stared out the window, watching the light of day fading and the ominous gray clouds turning slowly black.

“Hi, it’s Ian, hear my kid’s there again and wants to spend the night.” Ian could hear the boys shouting in the background while Ida Wilcox assured him it was fine. “Sure, I’ll pick up Jason in the morning.”

Ian sat back down and stirred his coffee. With Jason gone, he could work all the rest of the day and night.

John brought the coffee pot over to refill their cups. “Looks like you’ve got someone on your mind, son.”

Ian looked up and stared into the kind eyes of his grandfather. “Yep.”

“When you look confused like that, it reminds me when you were a little boy and I used to take you on my lap to talk out your problems.”

“I’m a bit too old for that now,” Ian said wryly.

“And too big!” John laughed. “Last thing I want to do is see you hurting again, boy. After Denise died, you were so depressed I was afraid I was going to lose you too.”

“If it wasn’t for little Jason, that might have happened. But no way I would ever leave my son.”

The fire in the wood stove was waning. John added some fresh wood and kindling, and the flames licked the edges then burst into flame.

“So, Gramps, you seem to be the expert on women in this family. I sure could use some advice.”

John fell into his chair laughing. “Me? An expert?”

“Don’t laugh so hard, you know what I mean. You lost Grandma Carol and you still were able to love again.”

Ian watched how mentioning Carol’s name still brought a twinge of pain to John’s face.

“You really never get over losing someone you love, Ian. I won’t kid you, it hurts. I don’t want to use trite phrases like ‘life goes on,’ but the fact is, it does. And I believe the human heart can love again. When Maggie and I got together after we both had lost our spouses, I had all those feelings you have, too. Guilt about caring for another woman, confusion, and fear of ever having to lose someone I love again.”

The room filled with silence. Ian knew that each of them was remembering the common thread of loss that bound them together–losing a wife, watching her die. For John, watching Carol suffer a stroke right after their 50
th
wedding anniversary was devastating. She’d been paralyzed and unable to speak. With deep love and gentle care, he’d nursed her at home for months until she finally slipped away in her sleep. John had found her one morning, resting peacefully in their bed, the one they had shared for more than 50 years. Ian wondered how John had ever gotten out of bed after that.

“It is a hard, long road back, son. I never thought I’d wake up happy to see another morning after that. You gotta remember, I was almost 71 years old when it happened. You, Ian, are a young man, and you have a responsibility to your son to make a happy family life for him. Denise would want you both to be happy, you know that.”

Ian clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the sorrow and tears that blurred his vision. He wiped them away briskly with his flannel shirt sleeve. “See what an idiot I am? I still can’t even think of her without welling up in the faucet department.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for another woman. I notice you’ve been over visiting that nice Lily next door.”

Ian jumped from the chair and began to pace the room.  Then he stopped abruptly and met his grandfather’s eyes. “I asked her to dinner tonight. Yes…when I’m around her, I feel emotions that I thought were long gone. I don’t know what to think. She’s not even divorced yet, and it’s plain she is not ready for some guy hitting on her now. But I just keep thinking about her and then find myself over there offering to help out.”

“Just let yourself do what comes natural. She’s a real nice young woman and she could use some help about now.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ian said as he grabbed his coat. “I think I’ll go out to the studio and do some painting.”

“You do that, Ian. I’ll heat up some supper in a little while and come get you.