He scratched at his stubbly white whiskers, sat across from Jonas, and waited for Francine to return. Then he huffed some more.
“The suspense is killing us, Earl,” Annie said.
“Okay. There are some blanks, but I can fill in a few. It’s true that Rex Winsted is Taylor’s brother. As I recall, he’s older than she is by about a decade. He left the island a long time ago, long before you were born, Jonas.” He nodded kindly at Jonas, as if trying to reassure him he did not need to feel responsible for his uncle, whatever he’d done. “I don’t think anyone really knows why he left, but to my knowledge, nobody mourned his absence. He was a surly kid, a real scrapper. Stealing vegetables out of people’s gardens for fun, chasing squirrels and throwing the acorns they collected into Poucha Pond, racing his beat-up old Ford up and down Chappy Road like he owned the place. Getting into fights with anyone who wanted to fight, and some who didn’t. The only thing he was good for was cooking. In his teens he started a business catering gourmet picnics to rich summer people. Folks said he dreamed of opening his own restaurant on the island. But God knew his family didn’t have a dime to do that.”
Yes, Annie thought, she’d heard the story that the family had been strapped financially, especially after Taylor’s father, who had been a fisherman, became ill. Which was why Taylor had returned from Boston after Jonas was born and she’d given him to his grandparents to raise, after she’d gone on to college and had been earning a living as a cellist with the symphony and tutoring kids. She’d come back to the island because her father was unable to work, and someone—she—had to support her parents. But that must have been long after Rex left.
“Rumor had it that Rex had a falling-out with old man Winsted—over money, or the lack of it,” Earl continued. “Apparently he expected his dad to get a second mortgage on the house in order to finance his dream.” Earl chuckled. “Anybody who knew old man Winsted knew that wouldn’t go over too well. Anyway, Rex took off, and later we heard he’d opened a restaurant in Boston. A nice one, or so the rumor went. No one knew—or probably cared—how that happened, but I don’t think he set foot on the Vineyard again. Not even for either of his parents’ funerals.”
“Well, he’s here now,” Annie said.
“Lucky us,” Earl replied.
Then Claire stepped back into the kitchen. “Anyone want tea?”
They shook their heads in unison.
“John’s on his way with Kevin and Taylor,” Annie said, “so I’m sure they’ll straighten this out. In the meantime, if you wouldn’t mind if Francine and Jonas stay here tonight . . .”
“It will be our pleasure,” Claire said. “Francine and Bella can have their old room upstairs, and, Jonas, you’re welcome to the study. It’s small, but comfortable.” Though Earl and Claire knew—and were thrilled—that Francine was expecting Jonas’s baby, proper old Yankee protocol of young people not sharing a bed until they were married needed to be followed under the Lyonses’ roof.
“I’d be grateful with whatever,” Jonas said. “That guy is creepy.”
“That guy is your uncle,” Earl said. “No reflection on you. Or on your mother. As I remember, Rex wasn’t only a ratty son, he wasn’t the nicest brother to your mother.”
Though Annie would have loved to hear details about that—if only to perhaps learn some unique character flaws that she might use in one of her novels—she knew this was neither the time nor the place. She also knew that Earl typically wasn’t inclined to squeal on a neighbor by spilling too many stories that weren’t his to spill. So Annie stood up and said she needed to go home. “We have a busy day tomorrow. Someone told me it’s Thanksgiving.”
“Pies are done and veggies are prepped,” Claire said. Then she looked across the counter at Earl. “I suppose we have to invite Rex to join us?”
“And open that can of worms?”
“It’s only right, Earl. He was nothing but a nuisance when he was a boy, but he’s lost his parents since then, and if he’s here alone on Thanksgiving, he must not have a family of his own.”
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“I’d like to talk about it now.”
Annie’s, Francine’s, and Jonas’s eyes ping-ponged between the bickering elders.
“Seems to me you weren’t too thrilled ten minutes ago when you heard he was back.”
“He’s still one of ours, Earl. One of Chappy’s.”
“And what good did that ever do this place?”
“Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s come back to make up for a few things.”
Under his spikey eyebrows, Earl’s blue eyes narrowed. “And if he hasn’t?”
“Then maybe he can at least contribute some of his fine cooking skills to our dinner tomorrow. He must have been a great chef to own that fancy restaurant he had.”
“As I recall, his mother was the only one who called it a ‘fancy’ restaurant.”
Claire sputtered again and disappeared back into the study. The outcome of their discussion would be hard to predict.
Jonas went outside and returned with their bags, while Annie said her good-byes and reiterated to Francine how happy she was they were home. Then she left the house and headed back to her cottage, her distress over how to help Francine momentarily superseded by wondering if Rex Winsted had returned to upend Kevin’s life. After all, Annie was protective of her brother, too, no matter that he was a grown man.
Chapter 6
