Gabi might not have remembered going to Captain Clark’s restaurant, but she hadn’t forgotten about this. Either that or her father had repeated the anecdote when she was older because now she giggled self-consciously and replied, “The greatest and grandest.”
When Ivy held out her arms for a hug, Gabi hesitated. Their aunt was still very emotional over losing Sylvia and Zoey hoped Gabi wasn’t going to give her the same lukewarm reception she’d given Zoey at the airport.But then, Gabi set down her flute case and carry-on bag and enveloped Ivy with both arms, proving that she was still the same warm-hearted girl she’d always been, just like her mother before her.
“Dad didn’t tell me about Auntie Sylvia until Sunday,” she said. “I feel so bad. I wish she was still here.”
“So do I,” Ivy agreed.
There was something so poignant about the sight of Gabi’s long, flaxen locks brushing against Ivy’s silver halo of hair as they embraced that Zoey got choked up and she had to look away.
Then Mark came around the corner from the kitchen. “I think it’s time to flip the pancakes,” he announced.
“You’re right!” Ivy let go of Gabi and spun toward the kitchen, instructing over her shoulder, “Show Gabi to her room and then hurry back down. Brunch is almost ready.”
While their aunt disappeared around the corner, Gabi picked up her flute and carry-on bag and Zoey grabbed her other suitcase, since Mark clearly wasn’t going to give them a hand.
“Hi, Mark,” Gabi said as she squeezed by him.
“Hey, kiddo. You’ve gotten tall.” Mark patted her shoulder. Coming from him, that was actually a rather demonstrative gesture, however awkward. “Tall and thin. It obvious you come from the Winslow family line. Not like Doughy, here.”
When Zoey was learning to talk, she couldn’t pronounce her first name, so she called herself ‘Doughy’. Her family thought it was adorable and the nickname stuck for years afterward as a term of endearment. But she knew that’s not how Mark meant it now. He meant it as a crack about her weight. Not that it was any of his business either way, but shewasn’tdoughy; she was muscular and athletic, a former soccer player. But ever since they were young, her cousin seemed to relish drawing attention to the fact that she wasn’t as thin as the rest of the women in their extended family.
Zoey ignored the juvenile dig. “Aunt Ivy usually isn’t so active at this time in the morning. You didn’t come here and wake her up to make breakfast for you, did you?”
Mark smirked. “You’re the one who told me she still loves to cook.”
As he ducked into the kitchen, Zoey said to Gabi, “Let’s take the back stairs. Be careful—they’re steep.”
Ivy’s rectangular, Federal-style home was built at the turn of the nineteenth century. Some of its original features included the narrow servants’ staircase in the back of the house, and the wider, split-level “grand staircase” in the front. A kitchen and formal dining room, as well as the “keeping” and “best” rooms, both with fireplaces, made up the lower level; and four bedrooms—also with original fireplaces—were found upstairs. As simple as the floor plan was, the house was spacious and elegant and Zoey hoped her niece would feel comfortable there.
At the top of the stairs, Gabi abruptly stopped. “I’m not going to use Aunt Sylvia’s room, am I?”
Did Scott tell her that Sylvia had died at home in bed? Although unexpected, her passing was peaceful. Even so, Zoey understood why the young girl would have been reluctant to sleep there. “No. You’ll be at the other end of the hall, across from me. You get the room with the fireplace—not that you’ll need to use it.”
“I might. I’m actually kind of chilly.”
“You are? I guess that’s one way you don’t take after your mom. She and I always ran hot. We used to beg our parents to let us sleep up on the widow’s walk because we thought it would be nice and breezy up there. Of course, they never did.”
“Yeah, well I’m from southern California, so this weather is colder than what I’m used to.”
Zoey was surprised she identified herself as beingfromCalifornia. ShelivedinCalifornia, but she wasn’tfromthere. Not originally, anyway. Even in terms of duration, Gabi had resided on the east coast longer than on the west. Zoey knew it was irrational, but it made her sad to hear her niece say she was from a state that Jessica had never visited. It was almost as if she were distancing herself from the first part of her life. Or from her mom.
I’m hypersensitive because I’m tired,Zoey told herself as she splashed water on her face in the bathroom.I should be glad Gabi sounds so proud she lives in California—it’s a beautiful place and it shows how well she has adjusted to being there.
She went downstairs into the kitchen, where Mark had begun eating. A few minutes later, Gabi came in and when she did, Moby padded over to rub against her legs.
“Aww, hi Moby.” She picked up the portly animal, turning him around and stretching her arms straight out to examine him before cuddling the monster cat to her chest. “You’ve lost weight, you poor thing,” she cooed, pressing her face into his fur.
Her sincere yet ludicrous remark must have tickled their aunt’s funny bone because for the first time since Sylvia died, Ivy laughed. Which made Zoey laugh, too.
Maybe having Gabi here will be good for all three of us, she dared to hope.
After Mark, Gabi and Zoey had eaten more blueberry buttermilk pancakes than seemed possible—their aunt had made a double batch and insisted they couldn’t let them go to waste—Zoey offered to do the dishes. Gabi went upstairs to sleep. Then, probably because Mark had woken her up so early, Ivy said she needed to lie down again, too.
Which left Mark in the kitchen drinking a third cup of coffee. Zoey figured he was killing time until he went to the golf club again, and as she cleared the table she tried to think of something to say to him. Ever since Mr. Witherell’s remark after the funeral, her cousin had seemed edgier than usual, so she had no intention of bringing that subject up. Nor did she want to quarrel with him again about his opinion that Ivy should move. So, she nonchalantly asked, “When are you going back to Boston?”
Mark immediately sounded defensive. “Why? Are you eager to get rid of me?”
“Just wondering what your schedule is like.”But why are you being so cagey about how long you’re staying on the island? Usually, you can’t wait to leave.
