Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard Page 10

  “It’s beautiful!” Sicily’s smile grew big. “And we did it all by ourselves.”

  Waverly smiled at the girl. “We did.”

  Then Aunt Lou asked Sicily to inform the other guests that dinner was ready, and Waverly went into the kitchen to give some last-minute help with the serving dishes. Finally they were outside on the portside deck, where Waverly had made certain she was seated facing the ocean. Once again, she felt the strong impulse to get out her paints…to create. Maybe it was something in the air, or maybe it was desperation, but Waverly felt certain that before summer ended, she would be painting again. The idea thrilled her.

  “Do you care to say grace again?” Aunt Lou asked Blake.

  He looked slightly embarrassed. “Only if everyone is okay with it. I certainly don’t want to push my beliefs—”

  “Of course, we’re perfectly fine with it,” Aunt Lou assured him. “Both Vivian and I thought it was so sweet when you did that the first night we had you and Sicily over for dinner. We felt as if you not only blessed the food, but the house and everyone in it as well.”

  He smiled. “I have to admit this is still relatively new to me. So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t do it correctly.” Then he bowed his head and asked a blessing that sounded sincere and heartfelt. However, Waverly couldn’t help but notice that Sicily didn’t bow her head. Waverly wasn’t sure of the meaning behind that, but hopefully this minor act of rebellion wouldn’t rub Sicily’s father the wrong way.

  As usual, Janice dominated the conversation. But at least her chatter was educational as she told Waverly more about the island. How Janice had managed to pick this trivia up in such a short time was a bit of a mystery, and whether or not it was completely true would remain to be seen.

  “The name Martha’s Vineyard came from an early explorer in the 1600s,” Janice informed them, sounding very much like a schoolteacher. “His name was Gosnold, and his wife’s name was Martha. Apparently his mother-in-law was also a Martha, and she funded the expedition, so Gosnold probably wanted to keep both women happy.”

  “Smart man.” Aunt Lou slapped her knee.

  “He also had a daughter named Martha. Actually, two daughters named Martha.”

  “Two daughters with the same name?” Sicily looked skeptical.

  “The first one died,” Janice explained.

  “Even so, that’s kind of creepy,” Sicily said. “To be named after your dead sister.”

  “I agree,” Waverly said.

  “You should talk,” Janice told her. “You were named after a cookie.”

  Blake started to laugh. “A cookie?”

  “Don’t laugh,” Sicily told him. “Waverly is a beautiful name. Even if she was named after a cookie.”

  “I had a lot of morning sickness,” Vivian told them. “Waverly Wafers were one of the few things I could keep down.”

  “Good thing you weren’t craving Ding-Dongs,” Janice teased.

  “Yes, yes.” Waverly shook her head. “But back to Martha’s Vineyard. I get the Martha part, but where did the ‘Vineyard’ come from? I heard there’s only one vineyard on the island, and it’s only been here for fifty years or so.”

  “There were wild grapes growing on the island,” Janice said. “Like a vineyard.” Then she began to tell them about a librarian named Lucy. “She lived in another part of the island—back in the thirties, I think. But Lucy the librarian did not approve of foul language.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Aunt Lou said.

  “Except that Lucy would take her scissors and cut the words out of the books.”

  “The librarian cut up the library books?” Sicily looked alarmed.

  “She only cut the bad words out,” Janice explained. “But that left holes in the books, and the townspeople weren’t too happy about it. So Lucy eventually died. She had deeded a large amount of beach property to the town. Guess the townsfolk decided that if they were going to accept the beach property, they would get back at Lucy by declaring it a nude beach.”

  “A nude beach?” Aunt Lou looked concerned.

  “Yes, Mother. Surely you know there are some nude beaches on this island.” Janice smirked.

  Aunt Lou blinked, then shook her head. “No, I didn’t know this.”

  “Would that have changed your mind about moving here?” Waverly asked her aunt.

  “No, of course not. But I don’t think I’ll be visiting any of those sorts of beaches anytime soon.”

  “I’m sure the sunbathers on those particular beaches will be relieved to hear that,” Vivian teased.

  Whether it was to intentionally change the subject or not, Blake now began to tell them about another part of the Vineyard’s past. Or perhaps he wanted to one-up Janice in the history department. “Not too long after Martha’s Vineyard was discovered, Thomas Mayhew purchased the whole island for forty pounds.”

  “Forty pounds?” Sicily repeated. “The whole island?”

  “That’s right. But Thomas Mayhew was more of a missionary than a businessman.”

  “Sounds like he was a good businessman to me,” Janice injected.

  “Well, maybe so. But he invested a lot of himself in educating the Native Americans about Christianity. He even sent a couple young men to Harvard. They were the first Indians to graduate from an American college. That was in the 1600s too.”

  “That’s impressive,” Waverly said.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Blake smiled directly at her now, and for some unexplainable reason, she felt extremely uncomfortable. But thankfully Janice, with her eternal gift of gab, something any politician should be grateful for, kept the conversation flowing by telling Sicily a Paul Bunyan sort of story about some giant who went around slinging whales by their tails. Finally everyone finished eating, and Waverly quietly got up and began to clear the table.

  Waverly had never been particularly fond of groups—especially around a meal. That had been Neil’s territory. Quick-witted and funny, he could keep a whole table amused with his anecdotes. But Waverly had always felt a group conversation was difficult at best and that she never contributed much. So she was relieved to escape to the kitchen, where she started a pot of coffee, got out some dessert plates, and began to load the dishwasher before anyone noticed she was missing.

  “What are you doing in here?” Aunt Lou scolded.

  “Just helping out,” she said as she dried her hands on the towel.

  “But this dinner party is supposed to be for you, Waverly.”

  “Then you should let me do as I please.” She smiled at her aunt, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And thank you for making such a lovely meal. Best food I’ve had in ages.”

  Her aunt looked pleased. “I’m glad you liked it, dear.”

  “Need any help?” Sicily joined them now.

  “You can be the server girl for dessert, if you like,” Aunt Lou said. “It’s raspberry cobbler and ice cream.”

  “Looks yummy.” Waverly smacked her lips like she was Sicily’s age.

  “It’s nice to see someone who appreciates good food.” Aunt Lou sliced into the cobbler. “My poor Janice eats like a bird.”

  “Maybe she’s trying to cut back on her carbs,” Sicily said like a miniature adult.

  “What do you know about carbs?” Aunt Lou demanded.

  “I know that carbs and calories and fats are very bad for you,” Sicily informed them in a serious tone.

  Waverly frowned. “You seem a little young to be worrying about that.”

  “Don’t you worry about it?” Sicily asked with wide eyes.

  Waverly laughed. “Not particularly. I’d rather just eat healthy.”

  “What do you mean?” Sicily asked. “How do you eat healthy if you’re not counting carbs and calories and stuff?”

  “I simply focus on foods that are good for me, like whole grains and fruits and vegetables.”

  Sicily studied Waverly now. “You seem healthy.”

  “Well, thank you.” Wa
verly scooped up a big serving of ice cream and put it on a piece of cobbler, handing it to Sicily. “This one is for Janice.”

  After coffee and dessert, which Janice barely touched but Sicily consumed most of hers, Waverly began to clear the table again. Sicily hopped up to help.

  “Looks like you’re trying to impress your dad,” Waverly said quietly as they stacked the dishes in the sink.

  “Am I overdoing it?” Sicily asked nervously.

  Waverly laughed. “No. It looks just right.”

  “Do you want to see my sketches yet?” Sicily asked as Waverly put the last plate in the dishwasher.

  “I’d love to.” Waverly followed Sicily out to the screened-in front porch where, by the golden porch light, they looked over the sketches. “These are good,” Waverly told her.

  “Really?” Sicily put her hands over her mouth. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No, they’re really good. You’re a good artist, Sicily.”

  “I like to draw.”

  “You should stick with it. Have you ever painted?”

  “Not really. But I want to. And I want to help with your mural.”

  Waverly considered this. “Do you want me to talk to your dad for you?”

  “Would you?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Waverly stood now. “Maybe we should go join the others.”

  But by the time they went around to the side of the house where the table was, everyone but Vivian was gone.

  “Lou went inside to finish up in the kitchen,” Vivian explained. “And Janice wanted to show Blake something out on the beach.”

  “Probably taking a little nature walk.” Waverly controlled herself from rolling her eyes, since as far as she could recall, Janice had never had much interest in nature.

  “Do you want to come see my room?” Sicily asked out of the blue.

  Waverly didn’t know what to say.

  “Oh, yes, you should go see it,” Vivian told her. “I even helped to fix it up.”

  “You did?” Sicily looked surprised.

  “Yes, I hope you don’t mind. Your dad was a little overwhelmed, so I offered to put it together for him…and for you.”

  Sicily looked impressed. “Are you an artist too?”

  “In a way.” Vivian smiled. “Go ahead, Waverly. I’ll tell the others where you girls went to. But do take a flashlight with you. Some spares are on the front porch.”

  Armed with flashlights, Sicily led the way over to her house. Their house was another charming bungalow, similar to her aunt and mother’s on the outside with its shingle siding and white trim and big porch. But when Sicily turned on the interior lights, Waverly could see that the inside was more sleek and modern. Definitely more masculine. But attractive.

  “My room’s back here,” Sicily told her as she led the way, flicking a light on in the bedroom.

  “This is lovely,” Waverly told her as she surveyed the room. “It’s like a mermaid could live here.”

  “I know.” Sicily picked up a glass ball float. “I pretended I didn’t like it when Dad first showed it to me.”

  “Really?” Waverly went over to look at a shell mobile. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to come here.”

  “Oh.” Waverly nodded like she understood. “It’s hard going back and forth between parents, isn’t it?”

  “Were your parents divorced too?”

  “Kind of.” Waverly picked up a conch shell, examining its pink inside. The truth was her parents never even bothered to get married—not that she planned to go there with the young girl. “But you’re lucky, Sicily. At least you get to spend time with your dad. You get to know what he’s like. My father was never around. I never knew him at all.”

  “You didn’t know your own dad?”

  “Nope.” She set the shell down and smiled at Sicily. “But I think he must’ve been a cool guy. I think I would’ve liked him. My mom told me he had curly red hair and freckles, and a laugh that came right up from his belly.”

  Sicily giggled. “He sounds nice.”

  Waverly nodded. “And your room is wonderful. Thanks for showing it to me.”

  “Want to see the rest of the house?” Sicily asked urgently, almost like she didn’t want Waverly to leave yet. Or like she was lonely.

  “All right.” Waverly grinned. “Give me the tour.”

  So, acting like the lady of the house, Sicily took her on a formal tour, going through the dining area and the kitchen and back to the laundry room. Then she showed Waverly the guest bathroom, her dad’s small office, and finally, her dad’s bedroom. Waverly felt uncomfortable…intrusive. She was about to say it was time to go when Blake walked in behind them. “What are you doing in here?” he asked Sicily in a stern tone.

  “Showing Waverly the house,” Sicily said innocently.

  “Yes,” Waverly said as she moved past him and back out into the living room. “She gave me the whole grand tour. Your daughter is a natural hostess.” She turned to Sicily now. “Thank you very much. Now I should be going.”

  “I heard you need a ride back into town,” Blake said as she headed for the front door.

  “Janice can probably take me,” she told him. “She picked me up.”

  “Yes, but I offered to take you,” he said a bit stiffly. “I thought perhaps we could discuss your job proposition.”

  “For me?” Sicily’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes. But if Waverly and I are going to discuss it, you’ll have to stay with Louise and Vivian. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded eagerly.

  They got into his car, and he drove next door to drop off Sicily, then started to leave again.

  “Isn’t Janice coming with us?” Waverly asked. For some reason she’d assumed her cousin would join them.

  “Why?”

  “Well, I figured she’d want to come….” Waverly heard the uncertainty in her voice and realized she didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “I didn’t invite her,” Blake said as he pulled out of the driveway.

  “Right.” Waverly nodded.

  “So, I know Sicily is determined to work for you, Waverly. I’m sure you meant no harm when you offered her a job, but as Sicily’s dad, I naturally feel responsible for her, and I’m not too comfortable with the idea of her hanging out at a video arcade for hours on end.”

  “When you put it like that, I can understand your concern. But maybe the problem is simply your perspective.”

  “My perspective?”

  “Your point of view, frame of reference. It’s like you’ve predetermined that Sicily will have a negative experience, be exposed to some bad influences, perhaps even be in some kind of danger. And frankly, that’s a bunch of hogwash.”

  “Hogwash?”

  Waverly exhaled. “Yes. Hogwash. Another word for baloney or bull—”

  “I know what the word means,” he snipped. “It’s a little insulting, don’t you think?”

  “I guess that depends on your perspective too,” she fired back. “Maybe I feel insulted by you.”

  “What did I do to insult you?” he demanded.

  “You’re suggesting that I would knowingly and willingly put your daughter into some kind of unsafe situation. I find that insulting.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Fine, I get that. And I apologize.”

  “I can understand you feeling protective of your daughter.” She paused. “Well, sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Yes.” She turned to study his profile in the dimly lit car. “You did leave her unattended for quite some time in the video arcade. She seems a bit young for that.”

  He glowered. “Well, I hadn’t meant to take that long. And she convinced me she’d be okay.”

  She eyed him. “So, you leave her alone like that, unattended, and I simply befriend her, spend some time with her, and suddenly I’m the bad guy?”

  He shook his head. “You’re right, Waverly. I guess I’m th
e bad guy. Rather, the bad father. My own daughter can’t stand to be around me.”

  “You’re being quite dramatic.”

  So then he began to pour out how hard it had been for him, how Sicily resented him for bringing her out here, how she’d been bored, how all she wanted to do was play stupid video games. “And now she seems intent on becoming a full-time employee at The Gallery. I suspect she’ll want employee benefits too.”

  Waverly couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe you didn’t give Sicily enough time to make the adjustment to moving here. I’m no expert about children, but I think your daughter is perfectly charming, and engaging, and interested in a whole lot more than stupid video games. And, just for the record, I’m fairly certain that I dislike video games as much as, possibly more, than you do.”

  By the time Blake dropped her off at The Gallery, they had reached an understanding. Waverly promised not to corrupt Sicily, and Blake agreed to trust Waverly to keep a careful eye on his daughter while she worked on the mural. “But if I find out that she’s using this mural business as a cover-up for playing hours on end of video games, the deal is off.”

  “Fine,” Waverly told him. “That works for me.”

  Now he smiled at her, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I will enjoy having Sicily’s help as well as her companionship.”

  Blake frowned as if she’d said something offensive. Then he told her good night, and she got out of the car. He drove off a little too fast, especially for Main Street.

  She shook her head. He was a hard one to figure out. Sometimes he was warm and charming. But then he would turn frosty and bitter. As far as Waverly was concerned—not that anyone cared—her cousin Janice was more than welcome to that contrary man!

  Chapter Eleven

  As he drove home, Blake couldn’t stop thinking about Waverly. But his thoughts were disparate and disconnected…and confusing. On one hand, she honestly seemed to like Sicily—and Sicily appeared enchanted with Waverly. But at the same time, he got the feeling that Waverly had taken an instant dislike to him. For some reason, she didn’t approve of him, as if he were a poor excuse for a father, and perhaps even a flawed human being. He found her attitude irksome. He disliked people who judged others without even bothering to get their facts straight first.