He turned his face toward the window, away from her. “Dan’s been a good friend for three decades.” At least he didn’t add that without that history, Maddie might not have procured her teaching position, or been chosen for the coveted tenure track.
“He’s in trouble, Maddie. Enrollment has declined in thedepartment. Fewer students are choosing to major in English. They’re more interested in IT, AI, and whatever other initials smell like cutting-edge technology. Which, of course, affects the school’s pocketbook. Your classes were a big draw. But now that you’re stepping aside …”
“I’m notsteppingaside,” she said. “I already stepped. And I’m not sure how the school’s drop in enrollment is my problem. Or my responsibility to fix.” Standing up, she went to the fireplace and picked up the small pottery bowl with the daisy on the front. “Do you know what this is, Dad? I painted it when I was four. I went to summer day camp here. And Evelyn was my teacher.” She set down the bowl, then picked up her mother’s painting of the sunset with two silhouettes walking on the beach, hand in hand.
“And this? You probably know my mother painted it. You might not know that the silhouettes are Grandma Nancy and me.” She rested the canvas back on the mantel next to the little bowl, and decided not to show him the quahog shell, because that would be cruel.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I don’t expect Dan to understand how much the Vineyard means to me, or that I feel cheated out of not having been allowed to spend time here with my grandmother when I was growing up. I’m not blaming you; I’m sure it was a painful time—and subject—for you. And for Grandma. But the fact is, I am Wampanoag. And being on the island makes me feel I’ve come home.”
Stephen remained quiet.
Now was the time for Maddie to tell him the other news. But the words were stuck in her throat like a large, uncoated pill.
He sighed deeply, then said, “I’m sorry, Madelyn.” His voice was low and noncommittal.
Heat rose in her face, perhaps due to the emotional roller coaster of her physical condition. Or because she felt entitledto more than a limp “I’m sorry,” as if she were one of his students disappointed by a grade.
“Well,I’msorry to tell you that I have no intention of going back to the Berkshires. Shit happens, Dad.” Maddie rarely swore. When she did, it was to make a clear point that she meant what she said. And in that moment, she felt affirmed about her decision. Finally. There would be a bookshop. There would be a baby. And she hoped Rex would be part of their lives however it worked for him. And her. But mostly for their child.
It wasn’t until she huffed off to her room and sat in the lovely rocker with a view of the harbor that Maddie recognized that not only hadn’t she told her father she was pregnant, she also hadn’t asked if he’d written the notes. Or if he thought Dan had found—and paid—someone to deliver them.
For now, all she knew was that her father was angry and upset, and despite her own exasperation, there was no reason to make things worse. Besides, if he’d known about the notes, surely they would stop appearing now.
Chapter 21
March–April
The days and weeks passed quickly. Maddie made decisions about the bookshop, traveled around the island in the tiny rental car that was uncomfortable and costly but got her wherever she needed to go, as she shopped for furnishings for both inside the shop and out on the deck. She zoomed with Rafe, finessing the logo design for the Little Bookshop by the Harbor—as Maddie decided to call it; they determined the dimensions for a sign, which an Amherst friend of Rafe’s offered to paint at no cost, if they let him include an image of it in his portfolio.
As for interacting with her father, Maddie kept it respectful, always aware that he was helping to launch her business. Also, she was fairly sure that whatever his missteps were, he’d done them with good intentions. Still, she needed time to rebuild her trust.
When she wasn’t thinking about the bookshop, she browsed online for baby things. She’d tried not to spend time dwelling on Rex. She’d only spoken with him two more times; the conversations had been brief, each somewhat more coherentthan the previous one. Unless that was her hopeful imagination.
Mostly, she kept focused on the tasks that needed doing, while half wondering if, between her father and Rex, someday she’d receive a gold medal for patience.
Suddenly, it was the middle of March. A little over two months until the grand opening. And four months until the baby would arrive.
Grandma came home from Joe’s early one evening with a pot of his homemade fish chowder and a loaf of fresh-baked, 7-grain bread for their dinner.
“He’s trying to make up for Rex not being here,” Grandma said. “And though you kindly haven’t asked, my basket count for the bookshop is up to eight—five large and three medium. Rafe’s working on the small ones. Ten years ago, I’d have made twenty-eight in the same time.”
“I’m sure what you’ve done is wonderful, Grandma. Don’t forget that Rafe’s contributions are only possible because of you. As an added bonus, Kevin found a perfect spot in the shop where the baskets will have center stage.”
Grandma smiled an atypical, shy smile.
Then Stephen sauntered out from his office/bedroom, and announced that something smelled good and that he was hungry.
Thanks to Joe, the meal was tasty, but the atmosphere around the table was again subdued. Maddie picked at her food; her stomach was tentative. They had ice cream for dessert, then her father retreated to his room again, and Grandma wanted to watch more episodes ofFather Brown, now that Maddie had set up streaming services. For three hours, she and Grandma sat mostly in silence, sharing bits of thoughts as to whodunit. Maddie couldn’t wait to go to bed. Thankfully, Grand ma finally said good night.
By the time Maddie cleaned the kitchen, turned off the lights, and got ready for bed, she was tired. But she couldn’t sleep.
She needed to talk with someone.
After a while, she pulled herself up and leaned against the headboard. She glanced at the clock; it was after midnight. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her growing bump that she’d been artfully disguising in big winter clothes. Soon, however, it would be spring, and her condition would be obvious to everyone on the planet. It was ludicrous that the only people who still knew the situation were Kevin and Taylor. Then she remembered that the Tri-Town Ambulance crew knew, the doctor, and a few ER healthcare workers—none of whom she could call to have a chat.
She needed to tell someone she felt close to.
But she couldn’t share it with Rafe over the phone.
