Seaside Harmony Part 10

"Were they out of their minds?" Gracie asked, shaking her head. "I'm rather fond of the yellow it's already painted."

"It's called Main Street Yellow," Jamie stated. "It's the only yellow on the list, and that list is very short."

"As it should be," Gracie continued. "If it wasn't, there's no telling what horrible colors people would come up with to paint their homes. Heavens, twenty years or so ago, my neighbor painted the trim on her home a ghastly purple. Art and I were sick about it, but there was absolutely nothing we could do because we didn't have any rules about it in the community. Restrictions are sometimes annoying, but they're often put in place for a reason."

"Well, I can tell you right now, I wouldn't repaint the inn anything other than Main Street Yellow and white," Caroline said, trying not to laugh at Gracie's outburst. "The outside needs some screws and nails, maybe some new siding here and there, and some freshening up of the paint."

"Wait a minute." Gracie set down her fork. "You're talking as if this is a done deal. As if we're going to head to Deborah's office after we look at the inn tomorrow and put in an offer. I'm still not convinced."

"Of course not," Sam said, calming Gracie with a smile. "We know that, and it's okay. It's all talk right now."

Gracie's forehead was creased, and her cheeks looked pinched. "My whole life is in Portland."

Caroline put her hand on Gracie's. A decision like this had to be made on her own terms. "I'm sorry," Caroline said, squeezing her sister's fingers. "Maybe I've pushed too hard on this."

"Why don't we talk about it tomorrow, after Jamie's taken a walk through the inn? We don't have to make any decisions now. Would that be okay with you?" Sam asked Gracie.

Gracie toyed with a speck of crab that had fallen out of one of her mushrooms, pushing it around and around on her plate. At last she looked up. "I need to talk to Brandon and Paige before I make a decision one way or another." She smiled. "No matter what I decide though, I'm not giving up my house. Art and I worked too hard to make it a home."

Caroline sipped her iced tea, watching a sleek sailboat tacking back and forth across the wind. The waiter brought their main courses, setting a plate of fettuccini with grilled prawns in front of her.

They chatted and laughed, and it was fun to hear Jamie and Gracie go at each other about which baseball team was the best-Yankees or Red Sox. The gulls hovered about, screeching, diving, soaring high and low. The horn on an incoming ferry blew. Caroline just barely heard her cell phone ring. She dug it out of the deepest recesses of her large golden leather tote.

She was thrilled to hear George's voice. She hadn't expected to hear from him for a couple more days. "I've decided to fly into Nantucket rather than sail. It's been too busy around here to take off for more than a couple of days."

"Are you sure you want to come?" Caroline asked. He'd been there for her so many times, but she hated to pull him away from his work.

"Of course I want to come. I'm eager to see this inn of yours, so I'm flying in tomorrow morning."

Caroline grabbed a pen from her bag and jotted down George's arrival time on the white butcher paper covering the tablecloth. "Come prepared for a busy day tomorrow," she told him. "We're going to the inn at noon, and we've got a clambake to go to in the evening. How does that sound?"

"Like a great time. It's been too many months since I've seen you."

It has been a long time, she thought, after closing her cell phone and putting it away. Not that they saw each other regularly. She'd always been off in one part of the world or another, and he'd been working in Annapolis. Somehow they'd stayed good friends, the best of friends. If she lived on Nantucket they could see each other more often. She liked that thought.

Of course, at this very moment, buying the inn was totally up in the air. It didn't seem to matter how much she loved it or how much she wanted it. She could probably buy it on her own or just with Sam, but she really wanted it to be a family thing-something for all of them, a cherished memento of their mother.

Right now, though, everything hinged on Gracie. That didn't make her optimistic.

Feels awfully good to get off that plane."

George dropped his one carry-on bag onto the floor inside the terminal and wrapped Caroline in a bear hug. It seemed forever since she'd seen him, since she'd felt the strength of his arms around her. He was the best friend she'd ever had, and she'd missed him.

"I'm awfully glad you're here. There's so much to do, and so much to see. And you're finally going to have the chance to get to know Gracie and Sam. Jamie too."

"I should have done that months ago. It just didn't feel right coming around shortly after your mother pa.s.sed away."

George swept a hand though his wind-blown, salt-and-pepper hair, picked up his bag again, and Caroline linked her arm through his. "The worst of that's over. Now's the time for memories, and"-Caroline smiled-"I can't begin to tell you how many memories we've shared. We've watched old movies, put together jigsaw puzzles, cooked-"

George's left eyebrow rose. "You cooked?"

"Well, no, Sam's done most all of that, and I've eaten. But I have listened to her talk to herself while she's working in the kitchen. She reads the ingredients out loud, so you could say I pretty much know all her recipes by heart."

"Does that mean you'll cook for me one of these days?"

"Not if you want to rise and shine the next morning. You know good and well that most everything I try cooking comes out burned or too salty or-"

"We could go through the whole litany of meals you've tried to kill me with, but why don't we climb in the car and head wherever it is you're going to take me."

The airport wasn't very large, and it took only minutes to reach the parking lot from the terminal. George stowed his bag in the trunk and hopped in the pa.s.senger seat of the rental car. "Do you want to take me to the marina first? I'm going to stay on a friend's sloop, since he's in Europe for the summer. I figured you wouldn't have room for me at the cottage, and I definitely don't want to intrude too much on girl time."

"You wouldn't be in the way, trust me. Sam's been planning a fabulous meal and she's dying to try her cooking skills on someone other than me, Gracie, and Jamie. But right now, why don't we head out to the inn. I'll take you to the marina later."

George fidgeted in the seat, trying to get comfortable, but the car was about two sizes too small for his six-foot-one frame. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscular from tr.i.m.m.i.n.g sails, and tightening lines, tacking, and jibing. Since he sailed so often, he kept in shape. He was sixty-six, but he loved to sail, and he planned to do it for at least another twenty years.

"How's Gracie feeling about buying the inn?" he asked. "Still hesitant?"

"That's a bit of an understatement. But I'm sure she'll come around in time."

"Sure, or just hopeful?"

"I'm always hopeful. You should know that by now."

George wasn't a man of many words, but she had always been able to read how he was feeling by the change of expression on his face or the tone of his voice. She hoped he could understand her pa.s.sion when he saw the inn.

Caroline turned the car off the highway and onto the crushed-sh.e.l.l-and-gravel road, heading west toward the ocean, the dunes, and the Misty Harbor. They hadn't gone all that far when George leaned forward in his seat and stared. "It's not quite as big as I imagined."

"It's big enough. There are a few s.p.a.cious guest rooms upstairs, each with their own bath, and the two owners' bedrooms are downstairs. And wait until you see the library. It's Gracie's favorite room, and it doesn't take much to understand why."

"Do you have a favorite?"

"The entire place. Of course, I'm in love with the parlor-it's huge, just wait until you see it-and the attic, although you can't see a thing inside, because it's stuffed to the gills with boxes and furniture, and oh! the gardens! The roses and hydrangea and-"

"Anything else?"

"If we could open the shutters-"

George pivoted his head toward her and frowned. "You mean I'm not going to see a view? I'm not going to see the sun shining into the rooms?"

Caroline shook her head. "I'm not any happier about that than you are. The owners don't want the shutters opened or taken down. They want to protect the house."

"That's insane. How can you possibly think of buying a place this big and for this much money if you can't see the whole thing? And the view is all a part of that."

"Sam asked, and she was told no."

"Then I'll ask."

"George, it's not that important."

"Do you want to see the view?"

"Well, yes, of course, but-"

"I'll take care of this." George rarely caused problems, but he was good at getting what he wanted.

Caroline pulled the car up next to Deborah's Mercedes. Deborah had picked up Gracie, Sam, and Jamie, and probably expected to have a rather nice and uneventful jaunt through the inn and the carriage house. George might be a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy, but he was also a good businessman, and if he wanted to see the view through the windows, he'd find a way to get Deborah to jump through hoops to get the shutters removed.

He was out of the car before Caroline, and started marching toward the stairs. He looked awfully big and imposing when he was playing the role of businessman, even dressed in khakis, a polo shirt, and white running shoes.

Caroline caught up with him in the foyer. He stood there listening for voices. He wasn't paying a bit of attention to the stunning woodwork, the bronze chandelier, or the peeling wallpaper. "They must be upstairs," Caroline said. "But why don't I show you around down here before we join them?"

"Running from trouble never got anyone anywhere."

Not for the first time, Caroline realized that George didn't make waves, but he found a way to conquer them, and he did it all with that gentle spirit and charm that she loved so well.

He linked his arm through hers and led her up the stairs. He attempted to shake the banister, and thankfully it didn't wobble or creak. She so wanted him to like the inn, to give her his blessing. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow when the staircase curved, and he spotted the crack zigzagging up the wall.

"That's not the only crack," Caroline said nervously, "but I haven't seen too many."

"Cracks can be fixed, as long as the foundation's good. You'll have to keep an eye out for sagging ceilings too. But"-he tugged her close-"I can see why you've fallen in love with the place."

"Can you?"

"I've bought run-down yachts that have been in dry dock for decades. I've been told they would sink like a ton of lead the instant they touched water again. But some of the worst of those boats are now sailing the world." George's stunning blue eyes twinkled when he smiled. "If I hadn't seen something special in those boats, they would have ended up sold as sc.r.a.ps. There's something special about this old house too. I can feel it."

After George's words made her worries scurry away, they made their way to the second floor. She told George the real estate agent's name, and tried to breathe easily, calmly, when they confronted her in the first room to the right of the stairs. It was the pink bedroom they'd seen the other day.

"You must be Deborah Greenleaf," George said, walking straight to Deborah, holding out his hand, and shaking hers when it was offered.

"Good afternoon."

"It's a beautiful afternoon. I'm sorry we're late, but my plane was delayed in New York."

"You're from the city?" Deborah asked, giving George her full attention. He had that effect on women-of course-he was dashing, daring, and handsome, like Peter Lawford, whom Caroline had had a bit of a crush on after first seeing him ages ago in Little Women.

"From Annapolis, actually."

"You're in the Navy?"

George shook his head. "Wright Custom Yachts. I'm George Wright." He smiled. "The owner."

From a lot of other men, that statement might have sounded pompous. With George, it merely sounded matter of fact. He rarely told anyone who he was or what he did. They might get the impression that he had money. Of course he did, but he donated the biggest portion of it to charities, and except for sailing and traveling, he lived a modest life in a town house not far from his business. But here he was, letting Deborah think he could end up being another one of her wealthy clients.

Sam, Gracie, and Jamie stood near the big four-poster. They'd heard nothing but wonderful things about George-that he was humble, courteous, a man who'd give you the shirt off his back. Now they looked a bit sh.e.l.l-shocked by the exchange between George and Deborah. They had no idea what was going on, and there wasn't much of anything Caroline could tell them right this moment. She hoped they'd figure out soon that he was playing a role, determined to get them a view from inside.

"Will you be investing in the inn along with Caroline and her sisters, should an offer be made?" Deborah asked. George gave her the hint of a smile, enough to make Deborah believe that it was a possibility, yet he remained noncommittal.

"Actually"-George walked to one of the room's oblong windows, parted the yellowed lace curtains, and stared at the wood that blocked his view-"it's rather difficult to make a decision on a property like this when you can't see it in its best light."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand." She looked around and then blushed. "Oh, the dust and, well, the condition of the building. It is a shame that the inn hasn't been kept up. The owners-"

"Dust and dirt and a few loose floorboards can be fixed. What I am concerned about is the view. You know," he said, pointing to the window he stood next to, "I can't tell what there is to see from this window. The garden? The ocean. Or the drive leading to the highway? Do you know?"

"I believe it's the garden." Deborah laughed uncomfortably. "If I had a compa.s.s-"

"I rest my case. If you don't know what's outside these windows, how can you possibly expect Caroline, Gracie, Sam, Jamie, or me, for that matter, to imagine the view? I've heard it said time and time again that the princ.i.p.al selling point of a property is location. Right now, I don't see a location at all. I merely see boarded-up windows."

"The owner prefers we keep them boarded up, to keep vandals and vagrants out."

George nodded slowly. He frowned, taking his time to respond. "Does the owner want to sell the inn, or not?"

"Of course he does."

"Then please, would you have the shutters opened. Caroline tells me they're nailed or screwed down, but I'm sure you can find a few locals to come by here immediately and take them down. We really would like to see the view."

"I can't possibly make that happen immediately."

"Then"-George sighed, turning to Caroline-"I'm sorry, Caroline. I think we should go. I can't possibly give you my blessing on the inn, not without seeing the view."

Caroline was flabbergasted. She didn't want to lose her chances of owning the inn, but George had made his stand. If Deborah didn't give in, she was going to have to walk, and her heart would sink. Her dreams would go up in a puff of smoke.

"Actually," Deborah said when George took Caroline's arm and headed for the bedroom door, "I do know a few young men who I can call. It shouldn't take long. Perhaps-"

"That'll be great," George interrupted. "While you're taking care of the shutters, I understand there's a carriage house I should take a look at." Caroline had already told him about the magnificent Packard (a 1941 model, from her Internet search) hidden beneath boxes and far too many odds and ends. Businessman George wouldn't hint at his curiosity about the car; he'd do everything possible to help get the price down on the inn. Showing immense excitement, he'd tried to tell Caroline, was not the way to proceed in a deal of this magnitude.

"Why don't you stroll around in the garden while I make a few phone calls, and then I can open the carriage house for you. I'd be happy to let you look on your own, but-"

"Perhaps you could give me the key, and I'll unlock it for us. Caroline tells me the lock is a touch rusty and difficult to open, and I'm sure you'd like to get as many workmen here as you can, as quickly as you can." George gave her a winning smile.

"I shouldn't, really, but"-Deborah handed the key to George-"I trust you won't abscond with anything."

George crossed his heart. "You have my word."

Again George took Caroline's arm and headed out of the bedroom, with Gracie, Sam, and Jamie trailing along behind. When they were in the hallway, they heard Deborah on the telephone. George winked at Caroline and then turned back toward her sisters and niece. He smiled. "Nice to see the three of you again."

"Nice to see you too," Gracie stammered. Jamie and Sam winked back. They seemed to know what George had been up to, thank heavens! Caroline wouldn't have to explain his behavior.

When they stood on the back porch and surveyed the garden, George, with his hands clasped behind his back, said, "You're right, it is overgrown, but the scent is amazing. The perfume of the roses and all the other flowers mixed with the salty air off the ocean is wonderful."

George drew in a deep breath, his deep chest rising and falling.

"Thanks for making arrangements to get the shutters removed so we can see the view from inside." Sam leaned against the back porch's slightly loose railing, looking out toward the ocean. "I think you actually unnerved Deborah."

"That wasn't my intention. Well, that's not quite true," George said. "There are still salespeople who think it's perfectly okay to pull a fast one on women. I'm afraid Deborah has been taking the easy way out in trying to sell this inn. She doesn't want to expend any more money or effort than absolutely necessary, especially since it's been on the market for such a long time."

"Exactly," Gracie declared. "I'm sure she's given up on finding a buyer, and I imagine she sees us as simply lookie-loos."

Caroline wondered if she detected a slight thaw in Gracie's att.i.tude toward the inn.