An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

up for a little shopping. I stopped at the beach yesterday when I first arrived. I was surprised to see a lifeguard station there.”

“Yes, there’s a lifeguard from Memorial Day straight through till Labor Day, seven days a week, from nine in the morning till six at night. A dumb waste of taxpayers’ money if you ask me. That beach has the worst sand. No one wants to sit on it. Everyone goes to the Island Road beach,” Liddy all but harrumphed. “The Cottage Street beach has always been set aside for fishing and digging quahogs, and underage drinking. Everyone knows that.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“Because three years ago, the stepnephew of our beloved mayor almost drowned when he stupidly jumped off the jetty into the water. Broke both legs when he hit the rocks. So now we have to pay to have someone sit up on that stand yelling ‘Get off the rocks!’ and watching the geezers fly-fish from the shore. The underage drinking doesn’t usually start until closer to midnight, so the police get to deal with them.”

Liddy made a turn into the municipal parking lot behind the Wyndham Beach General Store and cut the engine, and that quickly Maggie was out of the car, her head back and her eyes closed.

“I love how you can smell the water from anyplace in town,” she said, relishing the moment. “The harbor here and the cove up by my family’s old home, the bay from Island Road. It always smells like sunshine and the sea and salt to me. I’ve never stopped missing it.”

“Then you should move back. There’s lots more salt air where that came from. And great houses come up for sale all the time.” Before Maggie could respond, Liddy took her arm and steered her in the direction of a brick path that ran behind several shops. “This is all new since the last time you were here. We call it ‘the Stroll.’ This little meandering path leads from one shop to another. Wait till you step inside Glinda’s Corner. Cutest kids’ clothes ever. You’re going to want to buy everything for that sweet little Daisy.”

As Liddy’d predicted, Maggie found several items for Daisy that would be tucked away until December. At Nibbles ’n’ Such, she purchased some baked-that-morning cheese straws, a jar of locally sourced honey, and a fat round jar of fig jam made by the sister of the shop owner, all to share with Maggie’s hostess. At Dazzle Me, Maggie bought a pair of malachite earrings for Natalie—green, to match her eyes—and huge gold citrine studs for Grace, with the hope that perhaps some sunshine in her ears might add a little sunshine to her life. At the Potter’s Wheel, she found gorgeous vases for her daughters and a lovely bowl for Art’s assistant, Lois, whom Maggie continued to remember on birthdays and holidays because of her devotion to Art and her kindness through the dark days of his illness.

“Did I lie?” Liddy demanded as they walked back to the car, laden with their purchases.

“You totally nailed it. I’m delighted with everything I picked up. You know, my mom always started her Christmas shopping immediately after Labor Day.”

Liddy opened the back of her SUV and Maggie loaded her packages inside.

“Where to now?” Maggie asked as she got into the passenger seat.

“I thought maybe we’d visit Emma at the art center.”

“I’d like that. I know Emma’s been working her butt off to get it off the ground.”

“She’s done an incredible job. Wait till you see. You’ll be so impressed.” Liddy turned the key in the ignition, backed out onto High Street, and stopped at the intersection with Front just as a police cruiser rolled up to the opposing stop sign. The driver’s window was down as the occupant exchanged words with a pedestrian who’d just come out of the post office. The brief conversation appeared to have been cordial, and a moment later the cruiser drove off in the direction of the harbor.

“He’s coming to the reception tonight but not to the luncheon tomorrow, if you’re wondering.” Liddy followed Maggie’s gaze toward the street, then proceeded through the intersection.

“Oh, I wasn’t—” Maggie began to protest, but Liddy cut her off.

“Of course you were. But that wasn’t . . . the chief.” She smiled as she caught herself almost speaking the verboten name.

Maggie’s cheeks reddened as she tried to deny she’d been staring at the police car. As much as she hated to admit it even to herself, of course she was curious about Brett, and of course she’d known for years he was the Wyndham Beach police chief. On the one hand, she’d hoped to avoid him all weekend. On the other, thinking about seeing him—or not seeing him, she couldn’t decide which would be worse—caused a dull ache to settle in her chest.

God, I sound like a fifteen-year-old, she chastised herself even as she realized that was how old she’d been when she and Brett first met. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to turn off the memory button in her head when Liddy entered the parking lot at the art center.

Emma’s touch was everywhere in the art center, which was housed in a renovated white clapboard building sitting by itself on a spit of land overlooking Buzzards Bay. Exhibition space shared the first floor with two offices, and there were classrooms for painting, photography, sculpture, and children’s art housed on the second. A small outbuilding was devoted to pottery and metalcraft.

“I can’t believe you raised all the funds for the building’s renovation by yourself, Emma,” Maggie exclaimed. “You’re amazing.”

“The community has been very supportive, but most of the funding comes from Chris, to tell the truth. He paid for all the work in here and makes a monthly donation to keep the place heated in slow months,” Emma confided. “I think he thinks it excuses him from not coming home more often.”

“Or maybe it’s just his way of showing support for his mama,” Maggie said.

“Maybe,” Emma replied.