But before Maddie drove away she tipped her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes, and tried to take in what had just happened: She was now officially the proprietor of a bookshop for the next five years. Whether she was ready or not.
Chapter 15
The restaurant was bustling again, but not like in summer. They found a table by the window that looked out to the outdoor patio and the landmark vintage rail car that Grandma said no one really knew how the heck it got there or why.
“So,” Brandon said once they were settled and had ordered—a Reuben for him, a codfish sandwich for Maddie—“how does it feel to be an official islander?”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Terrifying.”
“Good! If you weren’t terrified it wouldn’t mean as much to you.” He probably was right.
Maddie then sipped her coffee. “By the way, if I haven’t already said it, thanks for your help, especially for your support today.”
“Anything. Anytime. My mother adores you and she’s happy to see your grandmother so ‘energetic’—her word—since you’ve been here. She’s tried to look out for Nancy ever since your mom died.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I’ve also stopped trying to make up for the years I missed with Grandma. She’s still pretty sharp for ninety, though she does have moments when she’s challenging.”
“The bookshop will be a godsend for her. Between that and you and Rafe, well, her life has had a huge turn for the better.”
“I hope you’re right.” She lowered her eyes and toyed with her fork. “I’ll be honest, though. She gives me mixed messages. Sometimes I think she would have preferred that I moved back to Green Hills and visited a few weeks in summer, like my mother and I used to do.”
Brandon leaned back in his chair. “Nah. She’s just getting used to not living alone. To not needing to fix her own food or dust her house.”
“Ha! I’m not sure she ever did much of either.”
Lunch arrived; they ate in silence for a few, congenial minutes. Maddie liked being with Brandon, and she liked that he and his husband, Jeremy, had become her friends. Beyond Brandon’s legal expertise, she trusted him … and trusted that he could be rational, not emotional, if she told him about the new wrinkle in her life.
“Brandon? May I ask you something … strange?”
He set down the sandwich and took a gulp of coffee. “Ask away. It’s probably nothing I haven’t heard before.” He was a pleasant man with no agenda and no strings.
But as Maddie opened her mouth to speak, a woman stopped beside their table.
“Brandon!” Her white hair was short; her skin was pale, allowing her red lipstick to take center stage. “How are you, dear? How’s your mother?”
“Doris,” he said, as he stood and gave her a small hug. “Nice to see you. Mom’s fine.”
Maddie shifted in her chair and smiled at the woman, who now looked at her suspiciously.
“Do you know Maddie Clarke?” Brandon asked. “Nancy Clieg’s granddaughter?”
No, Doris said she did not.
“My mom and hers were childhood friends.” It was a perfect thing to say because it made it clear that Maddie had deep island ties and hadn’t come over on the boat just for lunch.
“How nice,” Doris said as her face softened in acceptance.
“I’ll tell my mother you asked after her.” He smiled and sat back down, a clear indication that he did not intend to foster a conversation.
Maddie said it was nice to meet her.
Doris took the hint, told them to enjoy their meals, and moved to the dining bar. It occurred to Maddie that the café wasn’t the place to go to if someone didn’t want to be noticed.
“Sorry about that,” Brandon said, and picked up his sandwich again. “You were saying?”
She wondered if she should forget it. What if he told her to go to the police? A dash of bad publicity might not bode well for her soon-to-be retail business. Even though she was a Wampanoag, which purveyed a message of respect, she also was a washashore. As Doris’s first glance had underscored.
“Maddie? You look pensive. What is it?”
