“Lunchtime has come rapidly today, thanks to Charlie Holden’s granddaughter.” Cecil grinned as he stood and extended his right arm to Annie. “May I escort you up the path?”
Annie took his arm. “I’d be delighted. What a wonderful day to meet one of Gram’s and Grandpa’s friends.” She wondered if Ian had known the connection between Cecil and her grandparents. Not one to believe in chance, she decided to simply be thankful for the gift.
“Now that you have, may our paths merge more often.” Cecil moved up the stone walk easily, using the walking stick to test the pathway ahead of them.
“I would enjoy that, Cecil. It’s not easy these days to find a fellow reader of Kipling.”
After walking Cecil to the dining room, Annie drove back toward Grey Gables, letting the morning’s experience sink into her. On her drive to Ocean View, she had hoped for either an answer to the origin of the box and collar, or direction on which way to go next. As she left Ocean View behind, she knew she actually had obtained much more. Yes, Cecil’s suggestion about a genealogy website would be her next step, and Annie was excited to be tossing out a wider net. Of far more worth was the discovery of Cecil himself and his friendship with Grandpa and Gram. Many people of Stony Point had shared stories and remembrances of Betsy Holden and her gentle touch of grace. Annie loved Grandpa just as deeply, and the stories of Charlie Holden had been more rare. She craved more. Cecil was a memory keeper too, she was convinced, and she looked forward to learning more about him, his family, and his friendship with her grandfather.
Her pondering fueled her trip home. As she came to the long driveway of Grey Gables, she knew she had to share what she had learned that morning with Alice. She pulled the Malibu behind Alice’s Mustang, which was parked in front of the carriage house. The windows of the charming, small building were open, and, as Annie came closer to it, she could hear both U2’s “Vertigo” and the sounds of movement near the window to the right of the door. If Alice didn’t hear her knock on the door, she figured she’d just tiptoe through the flowers and shout through the window.
After thirty seconds of banging, the music lowered. Then the door opened to reveal Alice cradling her caulk gun. Annie put her hands on the top of her head. “I am unarmed, and I come in peace!”
Alice patted the gun like it was a favorite puppy. “Got any leaks? I’ll come fix ’em for you. I’m getting the hang of this baby.”
“You remind me of the old Rosie the Riveter posters. Would Rosie be interested in some pasta salad for lunch? It’s waiting in the fridge.”
“Rosie will be over as soon as she gets the caulk out from under her nails.” Alice laid the caulk gun down on the seat of the hall tree. At least I got more into the cracks of the windows than I did on myself—I think!”
“After lunch, would you be up for a trip to A Stitch in Time? I want to give myself plenty of time for the project.”
“If you’ll help me decide what I’m going to make, I would. I have some ideas, but I need to pick one and run with it.” Alice took the ball cap off her head, shaking her hair free. “I’ll be over in thirty minutes.”
“That will give me time to pick some fresh basil to add to the salad. See you soon!”
9
“Fresh basil in pasta salad is heavenly,” Alice declared after taking her first bite.
“I hope I can keep the herbs growing in the kitchen as it gets colder,” said Annie. “There’s just no substitute for fresh.” Annie gently tossed her salad to more evenly distribute the basil she had added. “I can hardly believe autumn is right on the doorstep. The twins started kindergarten this week! Of course, the school year usually starts a little earlier in the South.”
“Harvest on the Harbor is going to be here before we know it, and I’m still undecided on my project.” Alice snagged a piece of rotini and some green pepper on her fork and popped them into her mouth.
“I’m thinking about using Tunisian crochet this time,” Annie mused. “It creates this cool reversible effect. But I’m not sure what to make or how to incorporate an American Indian design.”
“I keep thinking of the quillwork. That basket with the quillwork rose was gorgeous, and I’d love to do that, but I think embroidery would do it more justice, and I’m not an expert embroiderer, by any standards.” Alice paused to sip her water. “There was a design on a birch-bark lid with leaves and a double geometric shape that looked almost like the frame of a lyre. It was so striking! But designing the shape and getting it precise enough would be tough in cross-stitch.”