Juggling the heavy tray that she felt was indicative of a successful event, Maddie was appalled to know that the bait shop—and its worms that she’d never seen—would be among her few, clear memories of the island. But her mouth curved into another smile as she walked toward the kitchen, knowing that her mother would be pleased that Maddie was growing at ease among their people.
After deducing that the memories Cranberry Day evoked had been too emotional for Grandma, Maddie decided to leave her alone. It had been a long day; they all were tired. With Rafe settled on the sofa, Maddie, too, went to bed. She slept straight through the night, then woke up with no time to waste: Rafe needed to catch the eight-fifteen boat in order to make his afternoon classes.
“What a cool trip this was,” he said once they were in the car, traveling down State Road toward Vineyard Haven.
Maddie sipped on the coffee he’d handed her as they’d walked out the door; she still wasn’t fully awake. Thank goodness Rafe was driving.
“I wouldn’t have traded the last three days for anything,” he added. “We should have the picture of us that Joe took blown up and framed.” Then he gestured to the outfit she had on.
Maddie’s gaze moved down: in her need to dress fast, she’d jumped into the hand-beaded skirt and the white top she’d worn the night before. The only difference was that she’d tossed on a jacket. “Well, this is embarrassing.”
He laughed. “No! It’s cool, Mom. You had lots of compliments last night. And Grandma loved every minute of it.”
Maddie sipped the coffee again. “I think the whole day was too much for her. She might sleep for days.”
“Yeah,” he said happily. “But she’s amazing.”
He was, of course, right. Nancy Clieg was amazing; there was no need for Maddie to worry about her.
So she grinned and nodded along with Rafe, the two of them looking like bobbleheads crafted by the same artist.
“Speaking of Grandma,” he said, “did she tell you the results of our poll about which baskets to make?”
“No. She was too eager to climb into her bed.”
“The tribe recommended three sizes—small, medium, large. They think more people will buy them if they use them for different purposes. And they thought we should offer a variety of wood slats. At least in the beginning. Then later we can focus our work down to the ones that sell the most.”
“Brilliant,” Maddie said. “Do you agree?”
“I’m excited. Mostly because it’s fun to see Grandma so happy.”
Maddie was glad Rafe hadn’t noticed that Grandma had been on the verge of an emotional meltdown.
They made it to the boat as the walk-on passengers were boarding.
“Thanks, Mom,” Rafe said, snatching his backpack, opening the car door, then leaning over and planting a fast kiss on her cheek. “For absolutely everything. I can’t wait ’til Christmas. When I’ll learn to make baskets. And hear more of Joe’s stories, cuz I really, really want to drum.”
“Great. Now shoo, before they wheel the ramp away.”
She moved into the driver’s seat as Rafe laughed and raced across the pavement toward his passage to the mainland, which was often called “America,” which Maddie now felt was an insult. If America implied a workable community withresponsible, respectable, and respectful people who cared for and about one another, who shared what they had, and who treated Mother Earth as a root of life, then up-island—not the mainland—should be considered the stronghold of America.
With a long sigh, she wondered where in heaven’s name that mental monologue came from. Then she remembered she’d had a dream before she’d woken up. It was about Arnie’s Bait & Tackle. But instead of an old fisherman behind the register, her father had stood there, chatting with customers.
“Very funny,” she said aloud.
Then she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting to watch the big boat back out of its berth because it’s what one often did.
And then a spark of intuition sparked:Could I take over the bait and tackle?Could she turn it into something else—anything but a place that sold T-shirts or … worms? Maybe she could sell her grandmother’s—and Rafe’s—handwoven baskets. Maybe even the herbal teas Grandma made. And what about … books? Books about the island, its past, its present, its people. Books with photographs and memoirs. She could also sell fiction and nonfiction, whatever was perfect for beach reading. And maybe, just maybe, Maddie could get her father to be with them after all … standing behind the counter where he’d been in her dream.
Clearly, Maddie had either been given a gift of inspiration, or she’d been struck by lightning on her head.
Chapter 4
The only way Maddie knew she’d be able to shake the idea of owning a bookshop would be if she talked to someone she could trust, someone who was an entrepreneur and would be honest and tell her if the concept was harebrained—or not. Someone to talk sense into her. Without hesitation, one such person quickly came to mind. So, after Rafe and the ferry departed, she drove to Edgartown.
She parked at Memorial Wharf near the Chappaquiddick Ferry, a couple of blocks from the Lord James restaurant. She could have found a space closer, but she wanted to be able to escape unseen if she changed her mind at the last second. Turning off the car, she took one more breath to convince herself she shouldn’t be shy. Or embarrassed. Or worried that she’d sound foolish.
Then she texted Rex.
