On Sunset Beach

Chapter 10

CARLY couldn’t have been more pleased by the way the carriage house was shaping up. The walls were now the right shade of white (“White white, not cream or screaming white,” she’d told Cameron, and he’d delivered) and the partition bisecting the room was almost complete. She’d spent time measuring every painting, cutting out paper templates for each to pin to the partition to determine spacing so that she wouldn’t have to haul the actual works back and forth from Ellie’s house. Evenings she spent working on the last part of her book, but it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. With school out for the summer, it seemed that every night a small crowd of Gabi’s friends gathered at Ellie’s to hang out. Some nights they watched movies in the living room, sometimes they sat on the back porch and played music to which they’d sing along. Other nights, the group might consist only of Gabi’s girlfriends, and they’d congregate in her bedroom, where there’d be much laughing and talking and yes, playing of music. Loud music, accompanied by group sing-alongs.

Carly couldn’t bring herself to complain—she was merely a guest in Ellie’s home. Gabi lived there and, as an almost fifteen-year-old, was certainly entitled to have her friends over. But more and more it became apparent to Carly that she needed a quiet place to work if the book was to be completed on time for the gallery opening. She made a mental note to talk to Ellie about the possibility of finding a short-term rental in town for the duration of her stay. After all, she couldn’t expect Ellie and Cam to put her up for the entire summer any more than she could expect Gabi to forgo entertaining her friends.

On Wednesday morning, she was pinning the last of the templates on the left side of the partition while Cam’s crew nailed up the right. They’d designed it so that there would be a space between the two sides to accommodate the electrical wires to the lighting that Carly wanted over several of the paintings. She was busy moving one template a few inches to the left when she heard the door open. She leaned around the partition in time to see Grace close the door behind her.

“My, this is different,” Grace exclaimed.

“This is the partition I talked about. Cam’s guys have done a terrific job putting it together.” Carly stepped back to admire the layout of the paper cutouts.

Grace came closer and walked the length of the left side of the room.

“I see. Very nice layout.” She smiled. “Assuming, of course, that these paper squares and rectangles represent the actual paintings.”

Carly nodded. “The exhibit will begin here”—she pointed to a section of white wall on the left side of the room—“and continue around here to this side of the partition, then around to other side.”

“Where were you planning on hanging the other artists’ paintings, dear?” Grace asked.

“What other artists? What other paintings?”

“There have been other artists from St. Dennis, you know. A number of them have stepped forward since the word got out that there would be a gallery to display local works. Didn’t Ed tell you?”

“I hope you don’t mean someone’s paintings of her cats.”

“Sadly, yes, I do.” Grace glanced around the room. “I can’t even begin to imagine them hanging here. I’ve seen Hazel Stevens’s work.” She added drily, “I use the term loosely.”

“I’m going to have to speak to Ed. He can’t be promising people that their work will hang here with Carolina’s.” She blew out a long breath. One look at Grace’s face reminded her that Ed could do pretty much whatever he and the others on the council wanted.

“Perhaps we could suggest that the other works be hung in the mansion,” Grace said thoughtfully. “You know, the living artists of St. Dennis will have the privilege of displaying their work in the mansion itself.”

“That’s brilliant.” Carly took a long drink of water from a bottle she’d left on the floor near the door. “I’d never have come up with that.”

Grace’s hand fluttered to indicate the insignificance of her suggestion. “You might have if you knew Hazel’s ego. She’ll be delighted to be able to brag that her paintings were chosen to hang in those venerable halls.”

“You’re so clever. I love it. I’ll do it. I’ll call Ed tonight.”

“Now, what else needs to be done here?”

“The new heating and cooling system needs to be installed and the electrician needs to finish up. As you can see, the painting is done. Cam’s working on the new door over on the other sidewall, and we still have to meet with the security people to see who can do what. Other than that”—Carly shrugged—“we should be good to go by the fall.”

“And your book?”

“The book is this close to being finished.” Carly held up her thumb and her index finger, a fraction of an inch separating the two. “I’m thinking I might get more work done if I were by myself somewhere. I’m used to living alone.”

“A lot going on at Ellie’s, I suspect, with Gabi home for the summer.”

“How did you guess?”

“A teenage girl is bound to have friends in and an iPod with a playlist of all sorts of music on it.” Grace smiled knowingly. “My granddaughter, Diana, is one of the girls who gathers nightly with Gabi and Paige Wyler and several others. I know they spend a lot of time at Ellie’s.”

“Which is great for Ellie because she knows where Gabi is and who her friends are. Important, I know. But at the same time …”

“You don’t have to say it. I’ve shooed them from the lobby at the inn on more than one occasion. They just get a little loud at times.”

“If you hear of any apartments or small houses for rent on a short-term basis, please let me know.”

“I might be able to find a small suite for you at the inn. I can check with Danny and see if we have any vacancies that might fit your needs.” Grace frowned. “But of course, there are always kids at the inn, and sometimes they will run up and down the halls when their parents aren’t paying attention. Though we do have a few cottages …” She appeared to be thinking. “Most are just one bedroom, one bath, and a sitting room. We use them for staff, and sometimes for our interns. I could ask …”

“That’s really nice of you, Grace, but I think I’d like something with a kitchen.”

“I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of …” She stopped in midsentence. “You know, Lucy mentioned that Sophie Enright will be moving into the apartment over her restaurant sometime soon. I wish I’d paid closer attention to exactly what she said, but I had my mind on something else at the time and it went right past me.” Once again, Grace’s hands fluttered.

“Where’s Sophie living now?”

“She’s in a little rented house right off of Cherry Street. Actually, Jesse—her brother—had rented it, but when he got married, he moved into Brooke’s house. When Sophie moved to St. Dennis, she sublet it from Jesse. Apparently, there’s still some time left on the lease, so I imagine that he could sublet to you, now that Sophie’s moving.” She appeared to pause in thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that place belongs to Hal Garrity. I can look into its status, if you’d like.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out. Now. Let’s talk about the articles I want to write. I thought this first one would be a sort of here’s-what’s-going-on-at-the-Enright-mansion. There are so many rumors flying around town, don’t you know. So I thought we’d just put it out there, and briefly introduce you. Then next week’s article will be more of a ‘meet Carly’ piece. You know, your background, your work. You can talk about your long-standing friendship with Ellie, your galleries, particularly the one in New York, where you displayed Carolina’s work in the past.”

“That was a very brief showing prior to the auction,” Carly interjected. “We only had two paintings for a couple of days. We put them on a very limited exhibit as a favor to the owner, who was a good client of ours and who wanted to sell them. She wanted them shown in a prominent gallery to drum up more interest. That’s how Carolina first came to my attention.”

“You can certainly go into that, though I did a brief piece that year on the auctioning of those two paintings. I read about the sale in the New York Times, and of course recognized Carolina’s name right away. I didn’t have any information other than what was in the Times, though. I did call the auction house for some details, but they gave me the run-around, so I never did expand on the sale and what it meant for a St. Dennis artist to be recognized.”

“We can go more into that if you’d like.”

“I would. I think people should understand just how important Carolina’s work is.”

“There is a problem, though, in that I was trying to keep a lid on the fact that we’ve found a treasure trove of Carolina’s works.”

“Perhaps you could just mention her name along with several others.”

“You mean, like Hazel Stevens?”

Grace laughed. “Oh, yes. You can even use the interview to declare that you’ll be looking over the works to decide who goes into the mansion and who will be relegated to the old carriage house.”

“I like it.” Carly hoped the ploy would work. The thought of Carolina’s exquisite paintings hanging next to some amateur portrait of the artist’s pet was just not going to happen. “Speaking of Carolina’s work …”

“Oh, yes. Dear me, I almost forgot.” Grace opened her sizable bag and took out a small notebook. She flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. “Here we go. These are the folks who are descended from the friends of Carolina who received paintings from her as gifts.” She handed the notebook to Carly, who skimmed it.

“I don’t know any of these people,” she murmured.

“Of course not, dear, but I do.” Grace leaned over Carly’s shoulder. “Look here. Susan Lane is the wife of the late Reverend Lane. His grandfather lived on Bay View Road, a few houses away from Carolina. And this name—Ariel Peters. She’s the great-granddaughter of Larinda Peters, who was the librarian in St. Dennis for more years than anyone remembers. Now, Lawrence Ash, I doubt he’d let us exhibit whatever painting he might have. He’s pretty much an old sourpuss. Always has been.”

“But the others—they’re still around?”

“Most, I’m afraid, are long gone and I have no idea how to trace their descendants. But I can set up a date to visit with Susan and Ariel. You just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll make the calls.” Grace was all but beaming. “I’m really tickled to be involved in something as big as this, something that could be so good for the town. It does give me a happy lift.”

Carly laughed at the expression. “I’m happy that you’re happy. Let’s hope your enthusiasm rubs off on the rest of the town.”

“Now, how about we plan on getting together on, say, Saturday for the first real interview.”

“Saturday is fine. Whatever works best for you.”

“Let’s try for eleven, shall we?” Grace removed a glass case from her purse and took out a pair of oversize sunglasses. “And I’ll check up on that house for you.”

“Where is it again?” Carly walked Grace to the door.

“It’s on Hudson, right around the corner from Cherry. The house is a small brick two-story, if I remember correctly. Three houses from the corner, if you’re planning a drive-by. It’s a nice neighborhood. Vanessa Keating—I’m sure you’ve met her, she owns Bling—”

“One of my favorite shops.”

“She lives on Cherry Street, around the middle of the block, I think. Anyway, it’s a nice part of St. Dennis.”

“I haven’t seen a part of St. Dennis that isn’t nice, Grace.” Carly opened the door, held it for Grace, then followed her out into the driveway.

“Yes, well, we do our best to keep things up. See you soon.” Grace put on the large glasses that covered a good part of her face and smiled. “I just love the Jackie Kennedy look, don’t you?”

Grace gave a little half wave, then took off for the street where she’d left her car. Carly waited until Grace pulled away before turning back to the carriage house. She knew she needed to make some final decisions about what to hang on that first finished section of the partition, but she kept thinking about the house that Grace described. Finally, she told the guys working inside that she had to step out for a few minutes but she’d be back well before they finished for the day.

The house was exactly where and as Grace had described it: a small two-story brick three from the corner. There was a small bit of lawn out front, a strip of a garden bed between the driveway and the house next door, and a fence around the backyard. There were flowers in colorful swaths on either side of the front walk, and some rosebushes around the small front porch. If the inside was as appealing as the outside, it could be perfect.

Carly tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and tried to recall everything she knew about Sophie Enright. All she could come up with was that she was a friend of Ellie’s and that she’d recently opened a new restaurant somewhere in St. Dennis. Satisfied that between Grace and Ellie she’d get the scoop on the little house, she turned the car around and headed back to work.

She’d have to find just the right time to talk to Ellie. She’d hate for Ellie to be insulted that Carly didn’t want to stay with her family.

She found her chance that evening while she and Ellie were in the kitchen, Ellie rinsing the dinner dishes and handing them off to Carly to load into the dishwasher.

“El, I’ve been thinking,” Carly began.

“About what?”

The words stuck in her throat.

“Car?” Ellie turned to her. “What’s up?”

“You know, these projects—the gallery and the paintings and the book and the catalog for the exhibit—they’re all really time-consuming.”

“I know. So what did you want to talk about?”

“Just that I’ve been thinking …”

“You said that.” Ellie dried her hands on a towel.

“I love staying here with you and Cam and Gabi, and of course Dune. I love having a dog around. I had one when I was little but it’s been a long time …”

“You’re hedging. Get on with it.”

Carly took a deep breath. “I think I need to find a place. Like, a place to myself. You know, these last few years I’ve been living by myself, and I …”

“And it’s driving you nuts having a barking dog and ringing phones and teenagers inside, outside, everywhere.” Ellie laughed. “I wondered how long you were going to last.”

“You did?” Carly frowned. “Am I that transparent?”

“No, but I know you. You’re used to being in a quiet place. You don’t work well with noise, any kind of noise. You never did. Not back in school, not when we were in grad school and we shared that apartment in Boston, remember?”

“The guys next door who had parties twice a week.” Carly grimaced.

“The girls upstairs who had parties every night,” Ellie reminded her. “The point is, you’re a person who likes her space. And right now you’re trying to complete several important tasks at the same time. So what are you thinking? One of the B&Bs?”

“Actually, I was speaking with Grace today—she stopped by the carriage house—and the topic came up. She mentioned that Sophie Enright had been renting this house over on Hudson Street and that Sophie would be moving out sometime soon.”

Ellie nodded. “Like this weekend soon. She and Jason have been working their butts off to fix up the apartment over her restaurant. I don’t know where she gets the energy. She works at the restaurant from five in the morning till two in the afternoon, then she goes into the law office and works until she’s finished whatever she has to do there. Then she goes back to the restaurant to work on the apartment. Though I think Jason did most of the painting, and Cam helped him with the plumbing, which wasn’t in great shape.” Ellie paused. “Is this your way of saying that you’re interested in renting the house?”

“Grace said she knows the person who owns it. She was going to find out when it might be available.”

“I’d say by early next week, but I can call Sophie if you’d like, find out when she expects to have her stuff out.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t want you to think …”

Ellie waved an impatient hand. “Stop. I understand. You’re not hurting my feelings. I want you to have the time you need to work. And really, I was wondering how long you were going to be able to deal with the kids being here all the time. This isn’t a quiet place.” She smiled. “I mean, Gabi believes that my great-aunt Lilly—who’s been dead and buried for years—visits her sometimes at night, so what does that tell you?”

Carly stared at her blankly. “I dunno, what does it tell me?”

“That the kid—on her own or with a crowd—can make enough noise to raise the dead.”