For starters, her dream had not considered that John mostly worked at night so he often wouldn’t be home when she was there . . . and it would never have predicted that both his daughters would be living there, too, which was going to add a potentially difficult dimension. Nor had her fictitious plan addressed who’d be on the property of the Inn throughout the nights, a factor that suddenly felt significant.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice called out.
Grateful for the intrusion, Annie turned and saw Ms. Mullen, their turtle-researching guest, heading toward the cottage.
Oh, good, Annie thought. Whenever her mood began to slither down a somber path, she always welcomed positive distraction.
Chapter 5
“Sorry to intrude, but may I ask a quick question?”
Annie set her glass on the wood decking and stood up. “How can I help?” She noticed that Ms. Mullen had changed into black linen pants and a white top and wore a soft aqua scarf around her neck. Rather than pretty, she looked almost exotic, as if she were from an island in the Caribbean or far west, in the Pacific.
“Is there a restaurant on Chappaquiddick that’s open for dinner?”
“I’m sorry, but no. There’s a catering company, but I think you have to order before noon. Other than that, you’ll need to go into Edgartown. Or catch a fish. Or forage for wild blueberries.” She hoped she sounded cheerful and not as dour as she was. “The truth is, though we’re only a ninety-second ferry ride into Edgartown, Chappy’s fairly remote. And we love it like that. Will you join me for a glass of wine?”
“How nice. Thank you, I will. Unless I’m disturbing you . . .”
Annie raised a hand. “No. Please. You have no idea how badly I needed to be disturbed.” She smiled and added, “I’ll be right back.”
Thankfully, she hadn’t packed the wine, though she supposed she should. Simon Anderson certainly could afford his own libations.
Returning in a flash with an empty glass in one hand, a bottle in the other, Annie asked if Pinot Grigio was okay.
Ms. Mullen nodded and the two women sat on the Adirondack chairs that were positioned for perfect sunset watching.
Annie poured; they sat quietly for a moment, gazing across the harbor.
“What a wonderful view you have,” the woman said.
“It’s a gem, all right.” Annie felt her body and her brain finally begin to relax. “We were lucky to find this property.”
“You’re facing west; the sunsets must be magnificent.”
“And every one is different. Some are muted; some are blazing. Some are pink; some are orange. I never get tired of them.”
“And the Inn is new, right?”
“We opened Memorial Day weekend. And we haven’t had a single glitch . . . yet.” She saw no need to add the reshuffling required to suit Simon Anderson. “But tell me about yourself,” Annie continued. “Starting with your first name, if you’d like.”
Her companion sipped her wine. “Mary Beth.”
“I’ll remember that,” Annie replied. “A teacher at the school where I taught was named Mary Beth. She wanted us to call her Mitzy, though. She said Mary Beth sounded provincial.”
“And was she? Provincial?”
“I have no idea. She had white hair. Her body was pleasantly rotund. She wore dark red lipstick and flowered dresses that fell below her knees. She also wore white stockings, well after they’d gone out of style. I think she was past retirement, so I suppose she could have been provincial. She was nice, though. She was soft-spoken and kind to her students. I used to hope she had a secret life. You know, schoolmarm by day, harlot by night.”
Mary Beth laughed. “Well, you can forget about imagining those things of me. Believe me, I am neither.”
Annie’s cheeks grew warm. “Good grief, I didn’t mean anything like that. I was only reminiscing . . . oh, never mind. My imagination sometimes forgets it should not be connected to my mouth.” She took a long sip of the Pinot. “But seriously, tell me about yourself. You’re researching the leatherbacks?”
Mary Beth, who was not Mitzy the schoolmarm, rubbed her thumb against the glass. Then she said, “I never realized they were in the waters here. I knew that they come out of the water on Florida beaches to lay their eggs in the sand; I guess I always thought they stayed down there. But they migrate here when the waters get too warm in the south.”
“The water’s getting warmer here.”
“I know. Which is why there’s a greater need now to keep track of the leatherbacks.”
