Carolyn smiled at the vase of daisies that brightened her desk. They looked out of place in the nautical-themed room, but since there were no flowers that grew in the sea, daisies would have to do. They brought an additional ray of Sunshine into the room that was already nicely lit by the bay of windows that faced the ocean.
She'd purchased flowers at the store because she hadn't found the time to plant any in her yard. There was a rosebush against one side of the house that could hardly be described as thriving, and a number of weeds that were thriving too well.
Carolyn suspected zinnias and petunias might not favor the salty, sandy soil of her new home. Many houses in Schooner Bay sported hanging baskets and planters of flowers. Maybe that was the way to go.
Meanwhile, "buy window boxes" was number 147 on her list of things that needed doing at Gull Cottage. Martha, her housekeeper and friend, kept advising Carolyn to be patient with herself. Things would get done in time. Ever pragmatic Martha had reminded her she didn't own Gull Cottage, and as a renter, she could be handed her walking papers the minute the lease was up. There was no point in putting too much money and effort into someone else's property.
Too late for that, Carolyn thought. She didn't own Gull Cottage, but sometimes she felt like it owned her. It definitely had a hold on her heart and soul. It felt like she and the children belonged here. It wasn't just a house; it had a spirit about it—and she wasn't referring to the resident ghost, Captain Daniel Gregg.
Carolyn had already invested money, sweat equity, and a great deal of intellectual and emotional energy into this place, and it was finally going to pay off! She had contracts to write three articles that focused on Gull Cottage. The time and effort she'd put into researching the Cottage, its builder, and its historical features were going to result in her first paycheck in a very long time.
To her relief and delight, the landlord, Claymore Gregg, had finally completed several improvements that made life safer, more comfortable, and convenient. He'd even removed the hideous wallpaper that had made the sitting room an eyesore. She'd had the room repainted, and the paper hangers were due any day. Perfect timing, the upholsterers called; her couch and chairs would be ready by the end of the week. After weeks of stress and worry, things were coming together.
Still, she'd been avoiding calls from her parents. No matter how chipper she tried to sound, she could never hide her worries from her mother. The more things that went wrong at the cottage, and the more Carolyn tried to pretend that everything was fine, the more her mother insisted that moving had been a bad idea.
It was only the children's obvious love of their new home and the beach that kept her parents from showing up with a moving truck to take them back "home".
Today was a good day. Martha had dropped the children at their water safety class then gone to the salon. Carolyn was writing; the words were flowing easily. It was only her growling tummy that alerted her to how much time had passed. She reached for a drink of iced tea only to find the ice cubes melted. It wasn't healthy to sit for too long. A trip down, then up, the stairs would be just the thing.
She was pulling to her feet when she heard a knock on the front door. First light rapping, then the banging of the enormous iron knocker.
"Coming!" she called. She would have liked another quiet hour to write, but she'd happily give it up to get the wallpaper hung and her furniture back.
"Well hello! I didn't expect you for another couple of days," Carolyn said with a smile when she opened the door. Two smartly dressed women, one carrying a large cardboard box, stood there.
"Hi! Yes, we're a little early, but there's so much to do! We wanted to get a head start. We want everything as perfect as can be." The older woman said, smiling and walking right in.
"That's wonderful. I want everything perfect, too," Carolyn agreed.
"I'm going to run to the car and get some things." The younger woman smiled and trotted down the flagstone path.
"Oh, it's exciting, isn't it?" The older woman set her box down and did a slow twirl, taking in the foyer. "You know you can only get so much from pictures."
Carolyn smiled and studied the woman; her dress was far too expensive and impractical for wallpapering. "The sitting room is right this way." Carolyn motioned, and the woman followed her.
"Oh my! The colors! It's lovely…but where's the furniture?" The woman turned on her.
"I sent it out to be reupholstered. It should be here by Friday."
"Perfect! I'm just so happy. My Gladys deserves the perfect wedding."
"Wedding? I'm afraid I don't understand."
"We're the Zimmermans," the woman said, as if that explained everything. "You're Mrs. Gregg?" She cocked her head and smiled.
"No, I'm Mrs. Muir, and this is my home." Carolyn tried to keep the snippiness out of her tone.
Just then, the younger woman called from the doorway, and Mrs Zimmerman, the elder, went to open the screen door for her.
The younger woman, presumably Gladys, set down a second large box and then clapped her hands in delight. "Isn't it marvelous, Mom? Harvey said I was crazy choosing a venue based only on pictures, but I had a feeling it would be just right!"
"I'm afraid there's been some kind of mistake." Carolyn motioned with her hands to calm down. "This is my home. I live here with my family. It's not a wedding venue."
The women looked at each other and then back at Carolyn. "We have a contract," Mrs Zimmerman senior said, her tone growing cold. "Gladys honey." She threw her daughter a look.
Gladys pawed through her purse and pulled out a long piece of paper with a great deal of print and several signatures on it. "I made the arrangements with a Mr Claymore Gregg over a year ago." The woman explained, holding up the contract, but not handing it over.
"That's funny, because I also have a contract with Mr Gregg and he never mentioned that I'd be hosting any weddings," Carolyn said icily.
Young Gladys looked as if she was about to cry, but her mother stepped forward. "Perhaps we had better introduce ourselves. I'm Daisy Zimmerman, and this is my daughter, Gladys. She's being married, HERE, at Gull Cottage on Saturday. We've come to decorate and finalize the arrangements. This is our contract, paid in full. We're expecting 50 guests and we have a great deal of work to do." She held out her hand and Carolyn reluctantly shook it.
Carolyn understood that it wasn't these women's fault that there had been a mix-up, but she had no intention of letting 50 wedding guests descend on her home.
Carolyn Muir," she said as they shook, she offered her hand to Gladys who shook it as she sniffed back tears.
"The first thing we need to do is call Mr Gregg," Carolyn suggested. "I'll just go grab my phone." She'd left it beside her computer upstairs.
"Madam," said a male voice as she entered her room. "I've been observing your interactions with our guests. It won't take but five minutes for me to convince them they don't want to hold their nuptials here."
"I appreciate your offer, Captain, but let me call Claymore first. He has several properties in the area. They may not be at the right house, but don't go anywhere; I may take you up on your offer later." She poked at the phone screen to connect the call.
"Gregg Real estate, Rentals and other services," said a familiar voice on the other end.
"Claymore, it's Carolyn Muir–"
The voice on the other end changed to an artificial, nasal tone. "I'm afraid Mr Gregg is out and we don't know when he'll be back. Thank you."
"Claymore, don't you dare hang up!" Carolyn commanded. "There are two women here who claim that they rented Gull Cottage for a wedding this weekend."
The only reply was the sound of someone swallowing down a lump of dread. "What's that you say?" Claymore replied.
"A wedding. The name is Zimmerman. They are in my front hall with boxes of decorations and a contract. I'm certain it's a mistake and you must have rented them another one of your properties."
"Oh, dear. Oh, my," came the cowed reply.
"You do have other properties open?" Carolyn hinted.
"Well, yes, and no. I have a place I'm renovating, but everything else is full. It's the height of the tourist season, Mrs Muir."
"Claymore, you have to make this right! I have a lease–"
"Yes, you do, but I'm afraid so do they. I'm sorry Mrs Muir, I completely forgot. It'd been so long since I had anyone at Gull Cottage for more than a few days…And their contract was in place before yours."
"Well, what are you going to do about it!? We can't have a wedding here!"
Silence.
"Claymore?"
"I'm thinking…"
"I'm calling my lawyer."
"Mrs Muir, please. I made a booboo. A big booboo, and I'm sure someone has a legal case here but—"
Carolyn heard voices below, then Scruffy barking.
She walked to the head of the stairs and gazed down at the foyer. Scruffy was dancing around the Zimmermans, giving welcome yips. Mrs Daisy Zimmerman was introducing herself to Martha, and Gladys was shaking hands with Jonathan and Candy.
There was another knock on the door. Martha opened it and there stood two delivery people. One with a dress bag, and the second with boxes marked china.
"Claymore, it's getting out of hand here. You need to find somewhere else they can hold this wedding!"
"At this time of year? Mrs Muir, I'm sorry, but I don't think that's reasonable."
"Mommy, Mommy! We're having a wedding!" Candy called gleefully.
Carolyn looked at the people and boxes in the foyer and nodded her head weakly. She'd been young and in love once. She'd dreamed, fretted and made plans for her big day. She knew how it felt to want every single thing to be perfect.
Her wedding day had been wonderful, everything a wedding day should be. She imagined how she'd have felt if, four days before the big day, she had found out her venue wasn't available. After the invitations had gone out, the catering arranged, and flowers purchased—she couldn't do that to this young woman.
She couldn't do that to this young woman's mother, for whom this event also meant so much. It was going to be a huge inconvenience, but she would let them have their wedding.
"This isn't over Claymore," she hissed into the phone. "They can have the wedding, but you are going to make this right."
"You're a peach, a real peach." Claymore sounded much relieved.
"Yes, but don't forget, I'm a peach with a lawyer." She hung up.
XXX
Two hours later Martha's fresh hairdo was eskew and sweat beaded on her forehead. "Tell me again why you're letting them go through with this?" she asked, settling down with a sigh into a kitchen chair.
"I know. It's like a hurricane blowing through, and this is only the first day!" Carolyn agreed. "But what could I do? I don't want to be responsible for ruining that girl's big day. It's not her fault Claymore double booked."
"If we could just go someplace else and let them do their thing, it would be one thing, but I don't see any way of staying here and not getting involved." Martha pointed out the obvious.
"Gladys is really a sweet girl," Carolyn offered.
"Then there's her mother…let's just say she knows how to get things done." Martha rolled her eyes.
"She wants her daughter's special day to be perfect." Carolyn made allowance for the woman's no nonsense efficiency.
"Well, I don't expect you'll get much writing done this week," Martha noted.
"I'll have to write at night when they've all gone back to town." Carolyn reached for her phone across the table. "You've been wonderful—making sandwiches, directing the delivery men. I'm going to order in for dinner."
Martha gave a little smile at the compliment, at the fact that she wouldn't be cooking dinner, and at playing a part in helping that girl have her dream wedding. While Martha might grump about the inconvenience, like Carolyn, she wouldn't deny the young woman her special day.
XXX
"Mrs Muir," came the Captain's voice, but not so much as a shimmer or shadow of the Captain himself. "What in the name of all ships that are seaworthy is going on in this home?"
Carolyn had barely closed the door behind her after tucking the kids into bed when the ghost accosted her.
"Well, it looks as though we are going to be hosting a wedding here." She opted to keep it short and simple.
"Ridiculous! They're not family, they have no business! Surely they can host their celebration at a public house in town." He sounded very put out.
"The entire wedding has a nautical theme. That's why they chose Gull Cottage. They met at a friend's yacht party."
The Captain took the information in. "Then why don't they have their blasted wedding on a yacht? Surely that would be more nautical."
"Apparently Gladys gets seasick. They met when Gladys was being ill over the railing, and he offered her a motion sickness patch." Carolyn recalled the girl's admission.
"Someone should tell the young man that a woman who cannot hold her bilge at sea will suffer much the same when she's with child," The Captain sniffed.
"I would think that's information the young woman should know," Carolyn corrected. "Is that true or is it an old wive's tale?"
"Never having a wife, young or old, I'm afraid I don't know. But I've heard it said many times, so there may be some salt to it."
"I know you don't care for strangers in your house," Carolyn began
"In my home," he corrected. "In our home."
She smiled and felt a warm glow inside.
"They don't mean any harm. Try to think of them as guests. I don't like the disturbance either, but I'm going to cooperate, and the children are very excited." She attempted to appeal to his soft side.
"Madam, as I am sure you read in the good book, in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as angels of God in heaven. By death I have parted! Therefore, I shall take no part in this affair."
Apparently, he meant to keep his distance and let her handle it—just as men had been doing for millennia. She sighed, it did seem that weddings were women's affairs.
XXX
"She has too kind a heart," The Captain said with a sigh as he gazed out to sea from the widow's walk. "I don't know what would happen if I weren't here to look after her." He paced to let off energy. "It's not as if this wedding is going to be the work of an afternoon. They have three more days of preparation. Then the day of the event itself, and how many days after will our poor Martha be at work setting the place to rights?" He felt indignant on the serving woman's behalf.
Though he tried to avoid it, his mind kept wandering to Carolyn's wedding day. He imagined how young, fresh, and enthusiastic she must have been. What a damned lucky bloke her Robert was. He hoped the man had the sense enough to appreciate it.
They had intended to grow old together but their intentions had been cut short. In The Captain's time, the majority of marriages ended abruptly. 'As long as we both shall live,' meant four, ten, or a dozen years more often than 40 or 50. He'd known several people who'd had four or more spouses over the course of their lifetime. Even so, love was love, and when people married for love, they hoped for many decades together.
He watched a group of teenagers laughing and snuggling around a fire on the beach. Young people didn't contemplate how much one alters in a decade. An infant turns into a half-grown child in ten years, and that child grows into an adult ready to set up a household in another ten years. Ten years more and he's the parent of a half-dozen children…living or dead.
The Captain noticed a car coming up the road. It drew to a stop in front of the cottage; The Captain sailed down to investigate.
A gangly young man got out and approached the gate. Seeing that he intended to come to the house, The Captain opened the gate, making sure the hinge creaked horribly, even though it was new and well oiled.
"Thank you," the man said automatically to the gate, then realized a self opening gate was unusual and gave it a quizzical stare. "I wouldn't have thought an old place like this would have automatic doors," he said with a shrug.
As he approached the porch and the security lights flashed on.
He climbed the steps and looked in the window beside the door. "Looks like no one is around." He scratched his head.
"The nerve! Whatever is he doing here?" The Captain wondered.
The man kept peeping through the window. "Gladys?" he called.
"I should have known. He has something to do with that wedding."
"Gladys, it's me. I'm sorry I'm late. We had the darndest time at the tuxedo rental…"
"Doesn't this man have the modern convenience of a telephone? Could he not have called this woman and found out where she was spending the night?"
"I sure hope this place looks better on the inside than it does on the outside," he said, peering around.
The Captain, displeased by the insult, sent a whirlwind of air around the young man.
"Sorry, didn't think you'd take it so personally. I take it back. You're a nice old house," he apologized with a chuckle.
"Gladys? Are you in there? Everything is booked up in town." He knocked on the door.
"Well, you're not staying here!" The Captain thought, sending a swirl of leaves, grass and sand spinning around the man.
"Gosh, when they talk about the sea breeze, they aren't kidding!"
The Captain passed through the door and saw Martha coming out of her room. She had her new hairdo wrapped in a turban and some sort of beauty treatment on her face. The sight was enough to scare the pants off any man, let alone a young one just shy of marrying. If the sight of her resulted in him canceling the wedding, then there would be peace for the family. All The Captain needed to do was give this man an iceberg sized case of cold feet.
The Captain opened the lock and slowly opened the door, moaning in a voice only the man could hear "Behold the haunted bride, this is your beloved in 10 years' time…"
Martha muttered to herself. "Was up all day long running around, feeding everyone, taking the children to lessons. The minute I put my feet up, somebody wants something…"
She slowly descended the stairs in the darkness. The man saw her coming towards him. He shrieked, turned, and bolted to his car.
"Well, would you look at that? And we just had those locks installed! Before we moved here, Mrs Muir said it was in a quiet, remote place. Lately it's been like Grand Avenue," Martha growled.
Scruffy, standing at the top of the stairs, gave a yip of agreement. He and Martha returned to her room and the television program they were watching.
The Captain silently thanked the serving woman for her questionable beauty regime and rubbed his hands together. Carolyn might choose to entertain the women associated with this wedding, but The Captain had identified the weak link in the chain. This young man, presumably the groom, was the solution to the entire thing.
The Captain watched in delight as the car sped away. He would leave the ladies to Mrs Muir. This lad was his!
…
"Martha, you're an early bird!" Carolyn said with a yawn as she headed for the coffeemaker.
The entire counter was covered with bowls of flour, bags of sugar, and cans of fruit.
"The church bake sale is this weekend, and with everything going on here, I thought I'd better get a head start. I hardly think Gladys will appreciate the oven timer going off while they're exchanging their vows."
Carolyn nodded and gave a little sigh as she watched Martha deftly turn a few ingredients into a pliable ball of dough.
"Can you go in the pantry and grab that stack of pie tins? I'm trying not to drag flour all over and make more work for myself," Martha requested.
Carolyn felt a pang of shame. She didn't know how to make a pie, or a cake, or cookies. She'd been intending to get involved at church, but she couldn't find the time-or wasn't making the time. She'd never been timid about meeting new people, but she knew that was why she was dragging her feet.
She still had some notion of Schooner Bay as a town trapped in time, where everybody knew everybody and outsiders had to earn their admission. But that hadn't been her experience. Lots of townspeople were transplants and everyone had been welcoming to her and the children. If she would just put herself forward a bit, she knew people would meet her halfway. There were few places easier to meet people than church.
The face of Ben Loudermilk flashed through her mind. He attended her parent's church and had shown interest in her. It was a perfectly natural thing for a single dad to be interested in a single mom, but Carolyn hadn't been ready then, and she didn't feel ready now. She just didn't want to deal with any of…that!
She grabbed the stack of six pie tins. It was pathetic that carrying pie tins into the kitchen was the extent of her contribution to the Church's bake sale and fun day.
"Are you really making six pies?" she asked Martha as she placed the tins on top of the coffee maker.
"I learned a long time ago that when you set up a production line, making a dozen is hardly more work than making one," Martha explained. "And there aren't many things a man likes more than a pie. These should raise a hefty contribution for the Church."
A devilish smile curled the corners of Carolyn's mouth. "Oh, I see. You're chumming the waters, letting the male population of Schooner Bay know you can bake a pie," she teased.
Martha tossed a floury towel in Carolyn's direction. "I'm not doing any such thing! All I'm saying is that they'll pay more for a homemade pie than for a plate of snickerdoodles."
"Do you think you could teach me to make a pie?" Carolyn asked, brushing flour off the front of her nightgown.
"Maybe you should start off with something simpler, like brownies," Martha suggested diplomatically.
"Do men like brownies?"
"Does the Sun set in the West? If it's chocolate, men like it." Martha shared the first commandment of baking.
"Well, there must be something I can do to help you."
"The biggest help of all would be to keep the children out of the kitchen until later this afternoon," Martha admitted, as she stopped to count her rounds of pastry.
"Breakfast in the sitting room, it is!" Carolyn declared. "With the furniture gone, it will be like camping out. The children will love it."
Carolyn got nearly an hour of writing in before the children woke up. She heard them stirring and hurried to intercept them before they got into Martha's way.
As she had predicted, the kids loved the idea of sitting on the floor and eating their breakfast at the coffee table.
"This is how they do it in Japan!" Candy declared. "I saw it on a TV show."
"I wonder what Japanese cereal tastes like," Jonathan mused. "Do they have sminimin in Japan?"
"Yes, I'm sure they do. These days, people everywhere have spices from other parts of the world," Carolyn told him. "But I don't know what they eat for breakfast."
"Probably rice," Candy said knowingly. "And maybe some seaweed and fish."
Jonathan made a yuck face. "Seaweed cereal with sminimin. Yuck."
"Don't make fun of it until you've tried it," Candy told her brother saucily.
"And even if you have tried it, don't make fun of it. People eat all kinds of different things, and I'm sure some of our favorite foods seem strange to people from other parts of the world," Carolyn explained.
Jonathan studied her for a minute. "I think some things are yucky no matter where you live."
"The boy makes a good point." The Captain's voice surprised Carolyn.
Jonathan was happily eating his cereal. He gave no indication of having heard The Captain speak.
Carolyn smiled at his remark, but gave no outward sign that she'd heard anything unusual.
"I've traversed a fair bit of the globe, and some rather unusual foods are quite tasty, and others, as the boy says, are yuck."
"What's the most unusual thing you've ever eaten?" Carolyn asked aloud, since it was a suitable topic of conversation for the children, too.
"I ate some lamb in Sunday School last year," Candy answered quickly, always eager to be the first at everything.
The Captain chuckled. "I've eaten parts of animals I imagine I shouldn't mention in front of a lady. I've eaten several varieties of insects. There's a very large beetle grub that, when roasted over a fire, is shockingly good."
Carolyn shuddered at the idea of eating a beetle grub.
"Do shrimp count?" Jonathan asked. "They sure do have a lot of legs."
"What about you, mom?" Candy asked.
"I've never been an adventurous eater," she realized as she tried to think of an answer. "I had a duck's egg once." Another pang of inadequacy went through her. Here she was thirty-four years old, mother of two, and her most exotic meal had been a salad with a hard-boiled duck's egg on it. She needed to step up her game. She didn't want her kids stunted by her own lack of experience and daring.
"I think we should try one new food a week!" she decided.
"Ooh, yay! There are at least ten pop tart flavors I've been wanting to try," Candy said, clapping her hands.
"I'll bet we can find lots of new things at the fish market. I've seen all kinds of creepy stuff there," Jonathan suggested. He ate another spoonful of cereal and said thoughtfully, "I don't know if Martha is going to like having to cook all that weird food."
"Maybe I can cook it!" Carolyn surprised them all. "I can learn how to do new things."
"My teacher last year said Native Americans eat squash blossoms," Candy informed them. "We can try those."
"That's a wonderful idea. I think we should start a list." Carolyn got up to grab paper and pencil when she heard knocking at the door. The Zimmerman women were back.
"And I was so enjoying our family moment," The Captain said with a sigh.
He sounded sincere, but Carolyn wasn't certain. He was so often sarcastic.
There was no time to worry over The Captain's meaning. In her floury nightgown and lopsided kerchief around her unkempt hair, she was in no condition to entertain guests, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She wasn't going to interrupt Martha to answer the door. The one thing Martha had requested was time and space to bake her pies.
"Oh well, Mrs Zimmerman is a mother. I'm sure she's had her share of messy mornings," Carolyn attempted to brush some of the flour off before opening the door.
"Good Morning!" Daisy Zimmerman sailed in with her daughter behind her. "There's so much to do. I don't think I slept a minute last night. I kept seeing lists in my head," the woman declared.
"Funny, we were just talking about making a list of our own," Carolyn said, to be conversational.
"I'm great at making lists," Candy popped up beside her mother. "I helped my mother get everything we needed when we moved into Gull Cottage."
"Yes, you did. I don't know how I could have done it without you." Carolyn gave her daughter a little squeeze of appreciation.
Jonathan had stayed in his place in the sitting room and was now looking down into his cereal bowl, giggling. Carolyn looked at him, puzzled, but she couldn't bother with it right now. He was quiet and occupied, and that was all that mattered.
She didn't know that The Captain was playing a game with Jonathan— moving his alphabet shaped cereal around in his bowl to spell words. Jonathan could only read a few words; the ones he couldn't figure out for himself, The Captain read to him. Jonathan laughed at the bits of cereal swimming about, seemingly of their own power. The Captain spelled out W-E-D-D-I-N-G and then promptly sank the letters to show his displeasure that his home was being commandeered in this manner.
Back in the foyer, Daisy Zimmerman stopped dramatically, then put her nose in the air and in a sing-song tone announced, "I smell coffee!"
"We're going to need a lot of coffee. There's so much to do," Gladys said nervously.
"How about if I make us a fresh pot?" Carolyn forced a smile and went to the kitchen. Removing the coffee maker from the counter would free up at least one pie's worth of space for Martha. Carolyn would set up the machine on the hall table, where it would be convenient to everyone without being in Martha's way.
"Is that the Mother of the Bride I hear?" Martha asked, not looking up from the pastry she was rolling.
"It is, and it sounds as if we have a long day ahead of us." Carolyn poured out the dregs from the carafe and gathered what she needed to brew a fresh pot. "I'm hoping a second cup of coffee will fill me with goodwill."
"You have plenty of goodwill. What that coffee needs to do is keep Daisy Zimmerman from using it all up," Martha noted.
Carolyn smiled, pleased that her friend had so much faith in her.
After the third knock on the door in 30 minutes, Carolyn decided to prop it open. The giant can of peaches was no longer available; Martha was turning it into pie. Carolyn was searching for a suitable substitute, when a movement caught her eye. An old cast iron anchor with a short length of chain was slowly sliding across the floor.
"Captain! There's no way that anchor has been here all these weeks and I haven't noticed it," she hissed.
"I'm merely trying to be of assistance. Did I not hear correctly that the wedding is to celebrate all things nautical? This remnant of former days was getting no use sitting in the dilapidated carriage house. I believe it will serve better here." He sounded both innocent and formal.
"Thank you. That's very helpful," Carolyn acknowledged.
"You're very welcome, Madam. And it's rather nice to have the old thing about the place again." The Captain sounded very pleased with himself.
Carolyn was happy to have The Captain move the heavy object into place while she attended to other business–such as the wallpaper hangers, who were setting up their equipment in the sitting room.
Principal Carter and her daughters arrived to pick Candy and Jonathan up for a roller skating outing. Carolyn couldn't express her gratitude enough for that kindness.
The last person to knock on the door was a man Carolyn didn't know. He was carrying two overstuffed dress bags and had two suitcases beside him. He introduced himself as Harvey Dilman.
"I think I'm in the right place," he said as he looked around concernedly. "Oh, I must be. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. That's my mother-in-law-to-be."
"Yes, you're in the right place. I'm Carolyn Muir. I live here." She wanted to establish seniority from the start.
"Gladys and I sure think you're swell for letting us go through with the wedding," Harvey said, hefting his load. The dress bags were long and awkward.
"You wouldn't happen to have a place I could hang these?" His forehead creased with worry.
Carolyn had sworn she wouldn't allow anything or anyone associated with the wedding into their private living space, but she couldn't just let the wedding gown get thrown over the back of a chair where it would crease and wrinkle.
"Give them here," she told him. Gull Cottage was short on closets, so she had rigged up a bar in an alcove upstairs to hang dresses and coats. The dresses would be fine up there.
"And these?" he asked hopefully, motioning to the suitcases.
"Won't you need those where you're spending the night?" Carolyn asked curtly. The dresses were heavy; she wanted to get them out of her arms. And why in the world should she have to worry about his luggage?
"Oh, no, these aren't mine. They're full of Gladys's makeup and hair stuff, her shoes and jewelry for the wedding," he explained.
"I'm afraid I don't have a place to store all that, and besides, won't she need that on the morning of the wedding? Before she goes to church?"
"Church? The wedding is going to be here. She'll be getting ready here." Harvey explained with a smile.
Carolyn couldn't stand there and argue; her arms ached. She turned and started up the stairs, knowing there was no way she could repeat this carrying those suitcases.
"Madam, may I assist?" The Captain's voice sounded close to her ear. Suddenly, the weight of the dresses was gone.
She watched as the dresses floated the rest of the way up the stairs, then down the hall to their place in the alcove. "Thank you, Captain," she breathed.
A tingle of delight passed through her. She was used to seeing The Captain move small objects, but this was the first time he'd come to her aid in this manner. It felt more personal than his letting Scruffy outside to relieve himself.
Carolyn turned back to the steps and nearly ran into Harvey, who was on his way up, his mouth open in disbelief.
"H-H-how did you…?" He was pointing at the air behind her. "The dresses, they flew!"
"Mr. Dilman, this part of the house is off limits. These are private rooms. Please go back downstairs," Carolyn insisted.
Harvey backed down the stairs, his chin still wobbling as he looked from her to the stair landing.
"But..but I saw–"
"You saw me hang up the dresses," Carolyn told him in her best 'mom means business' tone of voice.
He nodded slowly. "I saw you hang up the dresses," he repeated slowly, not sounding as if he believed what he was saying.
"I don't have anywhere to put those bags, but I suppose you can set them in the dumb waiter for now." She motioned for him to follow, and he did as he was told.
"Oh Harvey, is that you?!" Gladys squealed and came rushing over, planting kisses all over his face and throwing her arms around him.
"Oh, hey, gee Gladys." He sounded a bit embarrassed by her display of affection, but pleased that she was so happy to see him.
"You can have Harvey back in a minute, Gladys," Carolyn assured her. "Right now, he's helping me."
Unfortunately, the dresses and suitcases weren't the only things Harvey had brought with him. He had three more boxes of decorations. Carolyn couldn't imagine where they were going to put them all.
"Something sure does smell like heaven," Mr Peevey lifted his nose in the air from where he was wallpapering.
The house was filled with sweet aroma now that the first round of Martha's pies were in the oven.
"Wowee, it does smell good," Harvey agreed from where he was setting out the contents of his boxes on the coffee table. "You must be some kind of cook, Mrs Brewer!"
"My name is Muir," she corrected, and then her conscience made her add, "Those are pies my housekeeper is baking. I'm a writer. She's the cook."
Mr Peevey's eyebrows rose. "The more I learn about your Martha, the more I like her. She's a lot like me; she can do a bit of everything," he said with a firm nod.
"That's very true Mr Peevey, she can. And you too, the wall looks wonderful!" In the soft morning sunlight, with the walls aglow, the paper really shone.
"I hope she'll be saving a slice of that pie for me," Mr Peevey said suggestively.
Carolyn nearly told him he could buy himself an entire pie on Sunday afternoon, but stopped herself in time. He really was doing a marvelous job on the wallpaper, and he'd done a terrific job with the paint as well. He deserved a pie, and she decided she would buy him one!
"You and me both!" Harvey said. "And maybe the recipe, too. And a cooking lesson for Gladys. She's a stunner on the dancefloor but could use a little work in the kitchen," he said quietly.
"Harvey! I heard that!" Gladys called. "I take back all those kisses!"
"Don't be like that, Gladys; no one can be good at everything. I'm a washout with mechanics, and can't mow the lawn because I'm allergic to grass."
"Hopefully, you have other talents to make up for it," Carolyn said pleasantly and with a smile, though she wondered what they could be.
"Gosh, Mrs Mewey. I'm a pretty good accountant, and I have a degree in cartography, if you know what that means."
"Cartography?" The Captain said in disbelief. "This sodden milk toast can create a map?"
"The wonders never cease!" Carolyn replied to both Harvey and The Captain.
She hurried off to the kitchen to see how Martha was doing. "The men have smelled your pie and are champing at the bit. Would it be unfair for me to give you money for a pie now so I can give it to Mr Peevey for all the work he's done?"
"Do you think you can trust him with an entire pie? He's liable to eat it all at once and make himself sick. Then who would we call when something needs fixing?" Martha warned.
Carolyn smiled at this. "You have so little faith in the male gender."
"I have so much experience with them–hence the lack of faith."
"Well, I was going to buy a pie for us anyway, so I'll give him a slice of ours," Carolyn decided. She wondered where a man like Mr Peevey would put a whole pie. He was so thin, it didn't seem he had the stomach for it.
Martha looked up at the clock. "I suppose they'll be wanting lunch soon, and look at this place! I don't have a clean area to either prepare or serve anything."
"Oh no, we're not feeding them today! We've done enough," Carolyn declared. "Today the kitchen is in full on bakery mode. And don't worry about dinner, I'll pick something up."
"That's music to my ears!" Martha looked around the room. "Well, just the same, I'd better get moving on cleaning up. The pies are all made. It's just a matter of putting the next set in the oven when the first ones come out. I think we'll be finding flour in the cracks of the kitchen for the next 6 months!"
"Not a problem. It's all for a good cause." Carolyn gave Martha a quick hug.
"That pie does smell remarkably delicious. What manner of fruit did she put into it? I can't seem to place it." The Captain's voice sounded from so close in front of her that Carolyn took a step back. "My regrets, Madam, I didn't mean to startle you."
Carolyn hurried into the foyer. "It's peach. Didn't they have those in your day?" She was puzzled. Certainly peaches had been around much longer than he had.
"Yes, but I never had them served in such a manner. In fact, on an early voyage on mine, we transported a number of fruit trees and I believe peaches were among them. Of course, they had no fruit on them at the time."
What an odd thought, to live in a time and place where peaches were exotic. Where you couldn't just pop over to a store and buy them.
"I believe they require a longer season than we have here." The Captain was using his scholarly voice.
Carolyn looked up and noticed Harvey watching her. She was certain he couldn't see or hear The Captain, but she guessed she must look strange talking to herself, or merely standing in the foyer with expressions flashing across her face.
"What are you working on now?" Carolyn approached Harvey, who had two glue guns going.
"I'm gluing these daisies to this greenery. Then I'm supposed to drape it …kind of everywhere."
"Festoon Harvey, festoon." Daisy Zimmerman made a scooping motion with her finger to demonstrate.
"I'm sure that will be very attractive." Carolyn was slightly alarmed, wondering what they were planning to use to hang the garland and other piles of decorations.
Carolyn recalled thinking that her vase of daisies didn't fit into the nautical theme, but she decided not to mention it. She knew how fretful brides could be right before their big day, and she didn't want to upset Gladys.
"I'm going to drive into town to pick up lunch. I'd be happy to pick it up for you if you don't have plans," she announced. She realized that it sounded as if she had offered to buy lunch for everyone.
Immediately there were a lot of grateful murmurs and in a few minutes, she had a long and expensive list of food requests. She was much relieved when Daisy Zimmerman handed her two fifty-dollar bills and said, "You've been more welcoming than I could imagine myself being in a similar situation. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed."
It made Carolyn feel better about the situation, even though she still had several days of wedding invasion to endure.
When she returned 90 minutes later, she walked into a hive of activity. Mr Peevey, to her relief, was explaining the best way to hang decorations without marring the walls. His young helper was tying nautical knots in jute rope to create yet another garland. Daisy and Gladys were forcing rolled up messages into tiny bottles, and Harvey's shirt and hands were coated with navy and gold glitter.
Everyone was hungry and ready for a break. A cheer went up when Carolyn entered, carrying the food. She left them to distribute the food and went to the kitchen for glasses and the large pitcher of lemonade that Martha always kept on hand.
Now that the kitchen was back in order, Martha was feeling generous. She promised there would be pie for everyone after lunch.
The children returned during the lunch break. Candy ran excitedly to the daisy garland and asked Gladys if she could help. Mr Peevey told Jonathan he was just the right height to sit on his shoulders and help them hang the decorations that the women had made.
Carolyn had to admit, it was pleasant to have the house full of happy, busy people, and it was good for the children who missed their extended family. With so much positive energy around, she couldn't be entirely angry about the double booking. She was still going to put the thumbscrews on Claymore to make sure it never happened again, but for now, she would enjoy the communal chaos.
"Mom, do I have to help?" Jonathan asked her in a near whisper.
"No, not if you don't want to." It surprised her that he wasn't interested in being involved.
"OK, I'll help." Jonathan announced to Mr Peevey, then he turned back to his mother, "I just wanted to know if I had to or if it was my choice."
"I understand," she assured him.
Another cheer went up when Martha came in with a pie and a tub of vanilla ice cream.
"This is about the best thing I ever put in my mouth," Harvey declared when he dug into the treat.
"Here, here!" Mr Peevey agreed. "Not even my mother, God bless her soul, could make a pie like this."
Martha blushed a little. Carolyn was happy for her. Martha didn't get as much credit as she deserved. Her many talents were hidden beneath the humdrum demands of her position. Carolyn would have felt guilty for keeping Martha to herself, but Martha had chosen to throw her lot in with the Muir family, and they were blessed to have her.
"You all are very kind, but how do you know I didn't just throw a frozen pie into the oven and pass it off as my own?" she teased.
"Because it's not too sweet!" Mr Peevey said, pointing a finger up into the air. "Those pies in the frozen section add sugar to cover for a lack of flavor. This pie's flavor speaks for itself."
"Thank you very much, Mr Peevey," Martha bowed her head to him.
"I think maybe it's time you call me by my proper name, seeing as I call you Martha." Mr Peevey looked down and Carolyn swore she could see his ears grow red.
"And what would that be?" Martha prompted.
"My name's Ed. Ed Peevey." He wore a wide grin while he said it.
"Thank you, Ed. I'm glad you enjoyed the pie. You did a wonderful job with the wallpaper." Martha offered him a compliment in return.
"Ed, I'm Harvey." The young man offered his hand. "Harvey Dilman, though it's about to be Zimmerman, I mean Zimmerman-Dilman, or did we decide on Dilman-Zimmerman? Gosh, I can't ever remember!"
"Why don't you use Dilmmerman?" Candy suggested.
Mrs Zimmerman shot the little girl a look of displeasure, but Gladys thought it was clever and funny and giggled behind her hand.
"That's still pretty long, but it's better than Zimmerman-Dilman." Harvey's brows drew together as if he was considering it.
"Zimmerdil?" Jonathan offered.
"I kind of like Dilmmerman," Harvey said with a smile. "What do you think, Gladys?"
"Harvey, we've discussed all of this," Gladys reminded him, sending a pointed glance at her mother.
Harvey caught on and nodded. "Yes, it's been discussed." He sighed.
Carolyn guessed it had been discussed by the Zimmerman women, not by Harvey and Gladys.
Harvey returned to his pie.
"When I get married, my last name is going to be De Medici!" Candy announced, doing a little spin.
"Is that right?," Martha asked. "And who is this Mr De Medici? I wasn't aware you were dating."
"I'm not silly, I just like the name!" Candy explained. "I can change my name to anything, right?"
"That's true. But maybe you'd better give it a little time before you settle on something," her mother suggested.
"Candace Amelia DeMedici!" Candy picked up a bow and held it on top of her head as she did a little waltz around the room.
"Oh brother," Jonathan sighed heavily and smacked his hand to his forehead.
"I think we may have a case of wedding fever on our hands." Carolyn smiled at Candy.
Daisy clapped her hands to get everyone back on task. Candy helped Harvey glue the golden anchors to the daisy garland, which Jonathan hung while sitting on Ed Peevey's shoulders. Mr Peevey's helper Danny wrapped the knotted rope around the bannister.
Carolyn busied herself cutting scallop shells out of silver paper while Gladys and her Mother wrote "Gladys and Harvey" onto bleached sand dollars they had purchased.
"They're Christmas ornaments, keepsakes for the wedding guests!" Gladys explained. "We're going to tie a ribbon on each one."
Carolyn nodded and smiled even though she couldn't imagine why anyone would want a Christmas ornament with their names on it. She decided it was kinder not to offer her opinion.
"I wish we had driftwood we could put in the fireplace." Gladys sighed.
"I do! I have all kinds of driftwood," Jonathan said with a grin, glad to have something concrete to offer.
"You know, I'm glad Mr Claymore made that mistake. I don't know how we could have done this without you." Gladys got misty eyed. Her sentimental tears turned to sobs when her phone rang.
"Yes?... Yes?... Yes?..." Her voice went up an octave with each yes.
"But, but, but, but…" She sounded like she was hyperventilating. "But what am I supposed to do now?"
"Gladys, darling, what is it?" Harvey hurried over.
Gladys burst into tears and fell into his arms, sobbing.
"Don't worry, honey, whatever it is, we'll get through it," he assured her, stroking her hair.
"It's 's just ruined!" She sobbed harder.
"Gladys!" her mother snapped. "Stop blubbering long enough to tell us what's the matter."
"The cake. They brought it across the bay and when they were unloading it onto the dock, it slipped and fell into the water!"
"What in the world?!" Her mother turned pale. "Well, they'll just have to make another one! They don't know who they're dealing with."
"They can't, Mother, they don't have time. This is their busiest time of the year." Gladys began sobbing again.
"It's just a cake honey, you and I are ok. We'll figure something out." Harvey clearly couldn't stand to see his beloved in tears.
"Ahem…" Mr Peevey cleared his throat and when he had Harvey's attention, he nodded towards the kitchen.
For a second Harvey looked puzzled, then the man's meaning dawned on him. "That's right, you're right! Why are we standing here crying over a wedding cake when we have the paragon of pies right here in this house?" He took Gladys by the shoulders. "What do you think, Gladys? Wedding pie!"
Gladys sniffed. "Pie?"
"Yes, Gladys, honey, this is it! You've been talking for months about how you wanted something to make our wedding stand out. Everyone serves cake, but we can have pie!"
It was clear to see that she was warming to the idea. "You're right Harvey, that would make us different. Jenny and Roger had cupcakes, and Andrew and Lulu had donuts, but no one had pie."
"And not just any pie, Gladys, the best pie. Honest to God, home made, flakey crust, delectable pie." Harvey rubbed his hands together.
"I paid for a cake and I'm getting a cake!" Daisy declared.
"But Mother, they can't make another cake in time, and who will we find to make a cake on short notice?" Gladys glanced at Carolyn, but Carolyn shook her head. She didn't know of any bakery in town. She hadn't lived there long enough.
"You have a point," Daisy said. "As long as you wear something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, I guess your marriage will be off to a good start, even without a cake."
Gladys hugged her mother. "Harvey's right. Pie will be even more special." She was actually smiling again.
"I never liked the idea of all that navy blue icing on the cake anyway," Harvey admitted.
Carolyn agreed. That didn't sound very appetizing.
"Do you think she'll do it, Mrs Muir?" Daisy dabbed at her nose.
"Only one way to find out. Martha! Martha!" she called.
It took two minutes before Martha came in, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
It took two minutes more to explain the situation to her.
"What do you say, Martha? Will you save the day?" Harvey batted his eyelids and made puppy dog eyes at her.
"But isn't the wedding in two days?" Martha asked.
"We'll pay you handsomely," Mrs Zimmerman promised.
"I'll even help peel the fruit!" Harvey offered. He'd had his fill of glitter and glue guns.
"I don't know what I can do to help, but I think it's a grand idea," Mr Peevey declared.
Martha looked to Carolyn for support; Carolyn wasn't sure what to say. She knew the pies took a great deal of work, but she was willing to keep the kids busy and the house tidied, so Martha had time to bake. She wasn't sure what they would do about meals, but she'd think of something.
"Shall we have a huddle?" Carolyn suggested quietly to her friend, then louder to the group, "Let's give Martha some time to think about it," she suggested with a smile. She picked up some empty lemonade glasses and carried them to the kitchen.
Martha gave her a grateful nod and followed her.
"What do you think?" Martha asked, trepidation in her voice.
"I think you've just been offered a tremendous compliment! Gladys wants your baking to feature in the most important day of her life." Carolyn framed it in such a way that Martha wouldn't lose sight of the recognition the request represented, no matter what she decided.
"I wonder how many pies she wants. And what kinds? And I've already had the kitchen out of commission for two days in a row."
"And you've been on your feet for two days in a row," Carolyn acknowledged.
"That too. It sounds silly, but rolling out all those crusts had played havoc with my back." Martha bit her bottom lip. "The money would be nice. I've been thinking of taking a trip to visit my sister."
"I'll watch the kids and take care of meals, so you'll have the entire kitchen," Carolyn offered.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to find out what she has in mind," Martha allowed.
While Martha went to speak to the bride and her mother, Carolyn pulled out her phone to do some sleuthing online.
"So that lily-livered excuse for a groom has at least one good idea in his head," The Captain said.
"You mean because he's marrying such a nice girl?" Carolyn guessed.
"I was speaking of his taste in food. Having Martha make pies for their nuptial celebration–since there's going to be one–shows intelligence on his part."
"I'm investigating how much Martha should charge. There's a bakery in New York that charges seventy-five dollars for the pie, plus shipping!" Carolyn wondered how one even shipped a pie without it falling to pieces. "And I'll bet theirs aren't half as good as Martha's!"
"Seventy-five dollars for one pie! Why in my day that much money would buy you several years' worth of pie. Meat pies, fruit pies, and mince pies for Christmas!" The Captain sounded scandalized. He was well aware that things cost more these days, but seventy-five dollars!
"And of course we'll have to buy ice cream." Carolyn continued figuring.
"She hasn't said yes yet." He pointed out.
"No, but I'm pretty sure she will," Carolyn poked at the screen of her phone. "Martha is very practical. It's a compliment that they want her pies in the first place and she can use the money. Until I've been paid for those articles, and have something like a steady income, what I'm paying her is practically sinful."
"Seventy-five dollars used to be three years' wages for a good house servant," The Captain assured her.
Carolyn bristled. She despised when he referred to Martha as a 'servant'. She was fine with 'help', 'your woman', 'the children's minder', but she hated 'servant'.
The Captain picked up on her displeasure. "Housekeeper," he corrected himself.
"Thank you."
A cheer came from the other room and Carolyn guessed Martha had said yes. Candy came running in a moment later to confirm it. "Isn't it exciting!? Martha's going to make pies for the wedding!"
"Yes, it's wonderful that so many people will get to taste her delicious pies." Carolyn hugged her daughter.
Martha entered a few minutes later, looking somewhat bewildered. "I hope I won't regret this."
"I hope you haven't talked about prices yet." Carolyn stood to greet her. "Because I don't want you short changed. I've been looking up prices."
"We were just talking numbers and flavors, to make sure it's something I can do. Eight fruit pies, four different flavors with nautical cutouts on the top crust," Martha shared the stipulations.
"Seventy-five times eight is six hundred, minus ingredients. Let's be generous and say that's twelve dollars per pie." Carolyn punched numbers into her phone's calculator. "That comes out to $508 profit for you!"
"Seventy-five dollars a pie!?" Martha gasped.
The Captain shimmered into a hazy view and nodded his head to indicate his agreement with Martha.
Carolyn tried to ignore him, but it was difficult. Seeing him at all was still novel.
"Yes! And you deserve every penny of that! Why they've given you less than 48 hours! And it's not like you have an actual bakery here and can bake all the pies at once. It's going to be twice as hard for you as a professional who has all that special equipment. Plus, it's a custom order," Carolyn explained. "Seventy-five dollars a pie is a bargain."
"I'm not so sure they'll see it that way." Martha wiped her hands on her apron.
"Everything to do with a wedding is expensive. I'm sure they've seen crazier prices."
"Oh dear, where am I going to put them?" Martha asked, looking around the kitchen, where she still had five pies for the bake sale set out.
"After they're baked, you can store them in the oven," Carolyn suggested. "And we still have some room in the pantry."
"I thought if I hid in the kitchen I'd be immune from getting drawn into all of this wedding hullabaloo; instead I baked my way right into the middle of it!" Martha said with a sigh.
"Martha's going to be rich, Martha's going to be rich!" Candy sang.
"Between all the baking and now this excitement, I could use a nap," Martha said. "If you don't need me, I'm going to go to my room. I'll need to make a list of ingredients too."
Jonathan came running in. "Candy, Mrs Daisy needs us to make a whole flotilla of paper boats!" he explained excitedly.
"Grandpa taught us how to make those!" Candy recalled. "I'm sure I remember how."
They dashed off. Carolyn sat at the table to gain control of her thoughts again.
"Flotilla!" The Captain repeated.
"Yes, I wonder where he learned that term," Carolyn said with a lilt in her tone.
"Your boy is a quick learner," The Captain praised.
"I really don't know how you can stand all the carrying on! If the cake can fall into the sea, why can't the entire wedding follow suit and leave the rest of us at peace? Golden anchors and daisies!" His tone was derisive.
"I realize this isn't easy for you. It was a big enough adjustment when we moved in." Carolyn expressed sympathy for him.
"You are correct. I'm sure if I was a mere mortal man, all of this nonsense would have given me quite a headache. I had vowed to hide in the attic until this disturbance was over, but the smell of Martha's pies was too delectable to miss."
"Well, then you should be happy that you'll be getting another day of it," Carolyn prompted.
The Captain offered her a slight bow (at least it looked as if the shadowy figure was bowing) and disappeared through a wall.
"I guess I've got myself an actual bona fide ghost," she said aloud. When he presented as a voice or a mist, there was something mundane about it, but seeing him pass through a wall there was no denying that something supernatural was happening.
Carolyn guessed it was going to be a long afternoon, so she made a fresh pot of coffee. She was trying to decide between joining the crew in the sitting room or going upstairs for a quick nap when someone on the porch said, "Knock, knock!"
A woman waved at Carolyn through the screen door and smiled. She had a case of equipment with her.
"Something to do with the wedding, no doubt," she muttered, reminding herself of her decision to be cordial.
"Are you with the Zimmerman's?" Carolyn asked, not opening the door.
"Zimmerman? No. Is this Gull Cottage? I'm looking for a Carol Meyer," the woman said.
"Carolyn Muir? That's me. I live here," Carolyn had explained who she was. Now she hoped the woman would do the same.
"Hi Ms Muir, I'm Angela Hocking, with Yankee Homestead magazine. I'm here to block out some photos for your upcoming article. I sent an email."
"I'm sure you did. Things have been rather chaotic around here, and I'm afraid you've come at a bad time." She opened the door and let the woman in. "We've got a wedding this weekend, and the place is kind of–"
"A wedding! Why that's perfect! It'll be beautiful." Angela put down her case and began exploring. She entered the kitchen. "Gorgeous! Are these real?" She pointed at the pies lined up on the wooden counter.
"Yes, my housekeeper made them today."
Angela did a slow circle, taking in the details of the kitchen. "It must have taken you ages to make it look this authentic," she marveled. "And a lot of money, am I right?"
"I don't own Gull Cottage; I rent it, but I have it on good authority that most of the home is original."
"I don't want to burst your bubble, Ms Muir, but there's no way this is original. It just wouldn't have held up to all those years of wear and tear."
Carolyn could hear The Captain chuckling. It sounded like it was coming from the sink.
"The home has been unoccupied the majority of the time, and it's been in the family. I assure you, most of what you see is quite the way it's looked for a very long time."
"I guess I'll have to read your article to get the entire story," Ms Hocking called a draw. "But those pies, I mean, the sunlight is coming in the window at just the perfect angle. I didn't really plan on taking any photos today, but I have one of my cameras with me and I'd love to get that shot."
Carolyn made a sweeping motion with her hand that signaled "go right ahead".
As the photographer was setting up, Candy ran into the kitchen. "Look Mommy, I remembered how to make a paper boat!"
Carolyn took the boat from her daughter to admire it. It was folded from a map. "Well, aren't you clever? It's so kind of you to help Gladys."
"I didn't know there was such a thing as a theme for a wedding. I just thought they were all about romance and that kind of stuff. This is way more fun." Candy took her boat and ran back to the sitting room.
"The wedding is nautically themed," Carolyn explained to the photographer.
"That's perfect! I mean, the house is great, but nautical decorations will give it that much more character." The photographer was looking around the room. She found a pile of blue and white checked kitchen towels and added two of them to her shot, tucking them under the pies.
"If you come back tomorrow, you'll have some nautical pies as well. The bride has ordered 8 of them," Carolyn told her.
"You know, I envy you. In the city it's all go, go, go. I'm lucky if I can grab a pop-tart and wash it down with some bad coffee before I run to catch the train. Here you all are, the beach right out your front door, an entire counter full of fresh pies. A little girl who looks like she belongs in a cereal commercial."
"Gull Cottage is a lovely place to live, but it has its challenges, too. As I mentioned, most of what you see is original. Old pipes, and rusty hinges, windows that won't stay latched, and things seem to break at the worst possible time." Carolyn wanted Angela to have a realistic idea of what she was working with. She hoped the photos were going to capture some of the less picturesque aspects of living in such an aged building.
The photographer wasn't paying any attention to her. She was on one knee taking photos, then more from a different angle. It sounded to Carolyn as if she shot 100 photos of just one pie. Angela moved to other parts of the kitchen, capturing the late afternoon light and shadow.
Suddenly, there was music coming from the sitting room. Someone was playing the piano, and voices were trying to follow the song. Carolyn heard Candy squealing with laughter, and Jonathan imitating a motor boat.
"Excuse me, I just want to check on…" Carolyn bowed out of the kitchen, but before she made it across the foyer, The Captain was at her side in the form of a navy blue mist.
"You said there would be a wedding taking place, but it sounds like the circus came to town and set up their tent right here!"
Carolyn smiled at the image; he wasn't far off. "Hopefully, these are just the sounds of happy people being happy together." She agreed it was a bit much, but it wasn't complete chaos.
"Blast! Can't we get a preacher here right now so they can say 'I do', and we can have our peace and quiet back?"
"I'm afraid not. Gladys has been planning for this day for a long time, probably since she was a little girl. I don't want to take that away from her." Carolyn said gently as more raucous laughter and song came from the sitting room.
"I've heard of young women catching wedding fever, but I didn't account for how contagious it could be. It seems to have infected everyone but me," The Captain declared.
"It's just a few more days," Carolyn assured him.
"There are several churches in town, are there not?" The Captain went on.
"You should take it as a compliment that they like Gull Cottage so well, she wants her special day here."
"Perhaps I would take it as a compliment if I believed her to be a woman of taste! But she is desperately lacking, as can be seen in her choice of husband, and the nature of her decorations," The Captain said stiffly.
"Styles change," Carolyn made allowances for the sand dollars and tiny notes in bottles.
"But common sense does not!"
Just then, Harvey approached. "Just the person I was looking for, Mrs Truir. Where's the uh…little boy's room?"
"It's just down the hall, and to the right," she told him, pointing.
She turned back to The Captain, "So he's a little immature—he's still young."
No reply.
"Captain?" she whispered. "Captain?"
Silence.
"Oh, well." She shrugged and went on to the sitting room.
…
"This way…then to the right." Harvey pointed with his finger as he moved through the house. "I'll bet in this old house's day, everyone had to do their business outside. Boy oh boy, am I glad I was born in the era of indoor plumbing."
"Oh, is that right?" The Captain said to himself.
Harvey closed the door and turned towards the toilet. The Captain unlocked the door and opened it with a creak.
"Darn old houses," Harvey said, relocking the door.
As soon as he turned away, The Captain opened it again.
Harvey locked it again, and when he turned around, the medicine cabinet had swung open.
"Probably isn't a level floor in the place," Harvey declared, shutting the medicine cabinet and opening the toilet seat.
The medicine cabinet swung open again. Harvey reached over and closed it, and the toilet seat went down.
"What the?" He bent to lift the seat and the shower curtain opened. When he closed the curtain, the vanity cabinet doors opened, then the bathroom door, then the hamper, then the toilet lid.
"Ok," Harvey sat on the toilet lid. "I don't think I'm crazy, but something very strange is going on here." And just like that, everything shut.
Harvey sat still, his eyes went this way, then that way. "Maybe everything is back to normal," he whispered. He stood up, slowly lifted the toilet lid and everything in the bathroom that could open or close began doing so, all at once.
"I don't think this is caused by a sinking foundation," Harvey decided. He dashed from the room, calling for Gladys.
When she arrived, he motioned to his face. "Do I look alright to you? Look into my eyes. What about my tongue?" He stuck his tongue out. "Are my hands shaking?" He held a hand out for her to observe.
"Harvey, what's wrong? Your tongue looks fine. What's the matter?"
"Well, I went to use the bathroom, but I couldn't because the door wouldn't stay shut. Then everything in the bathroom opens, then shuts, then opens again. By themselves, Gladys, it's…I think it's supernatural." He glanced around as he finished, as if something might reach out and grab him.
Gladys looked into the bathroom. "This bathroom Harvey?"
He nodded quickly.
Gladys went in, closed the door, and in a few minutes came back out, all without incident.
"I don't know what you mean. Everything is fine. Everything works fine. Now, I'm going to get back in there and make paper boats. We're meeting my father for dinner at 7." She walked away.
"You hear that? Everything's fine. Gladys said so." Harvey straightened up and reached for the doorknob; it wouldn't budge. He rattled it; it didn't help. He pulled it. No good. He pushed it; the door stuck fast.
"Hi, Mr Harvey, are you done with the bathroom?" Jonathan asked.
"This bathroom? Oh, yeah, sure. Go right ahead." He shot the boy a weak smile.
The little boy grabbed the knob, turned it, and opened the door. He closed it, and it remained closed.
Harvey scratched his head. "Now, how? I mean, I'm a grown man and he's only this big. How come he could open that door?"
"Because he's not a nincompoop!" boomed a voice.
"Oh no, oh no…who said that? Gladys? Gladys?" Harvey ran back to the sitting room, leaving a gleeful Captain outside the bathroom door.
"So easy. It's almost criminal to prey on such a weak mind. He could give Claymore a run for his money," The Captain said with a sad shake of his head.
"Hi Captain," Jonathan said when he came out of the bathroom.
"Hello my boy. How are you?"
"I'm helping with the wedding!" Jonathan said proudly. "I even got to ride on Mr Peevey's shoulders and hang stuff."
"Well, that's because they knew they could trust you with an important task!" The Captain praised him.
"Did you make paper boats when you were a boy?"
"Yes, I did! And paper hats as well. There was a creek near the school, and sometimes we would race them," The Captain recalled.
"Maybe, after the wedding, Ms Gladys will let me and Candy keep some, and we can race them, or at least sail them in the tide pools." Jonathan said hopefully. "Well, I gotta go; they still need my help."
The Captain watched him skip off happily. It seemed everyone was excited about the nuptials except himself.
Harvey returned, inching towards the bathroom with a pained look on his face and his legs nearly crossed. The Captain couldn't help but have mercy on him. He sailed upstairs and let the man have the bathroom to himself.
XXX
Carolyn was glad the children were excited about the wedding, but she had hoped that when the Zimmermans left, and Mr Peevey and his helper loaded up their truck, and the photographer finished staging shots, that she could get a respite from everything wedding related.
It wasn't to be. Candy and Jonathan chattered on like they had drunk too many cups of coffee. For the remainder of the evening, they folded paper boats. Candy had worn shiny spots on the nails of her thumb and forefinger from using them to crease the paper.
Jonathan was counting the favors and decorations and putting them in piles of ten. Martha had placed her pies in the pantry with clean kitchen towels over them, and had gone up to take a hot bath to prepare for another day on her feet, and bent over a counter.
After running out of maps to fold the paper boats, Candy sat at the piano and tried to pick out the melody to "Here Comes the Bride". She was making a hash of it, hitting more painfully incorrect notes than correct ones. It was all that Carolyn could do not to cover her ears. The minute the bathroom was free, she was having the children get ready for bed.
"It's beginning to get to you too, isn't it?" The Captain asked her.
She winced at another sour note and nodded her head. "I wonder if I was this tedious the week before my wedding."
"Probably, but you weren't living in my house, so I could forgive you for it." There was a bit of jest in his tone.
Carolyn heard the upstairs bathroom door open; she called to the children. "Time to brush your teeth!" Blessedly, the piano playing stopped.
Before Candy ran up the stairs, she asked, "May I wear my white nightie? It looks almost like a wedding gown!"
"Yes, you may." Carolyn would have let her wear an actual wedding gown if it would have sped up progress towards bedtime.
"It's hard to believe that only two days ago, everything around here was perfectly normal," Carolyn said with a sigh.
"Relatively speaking," The Captain pointed out. "For a rather long time, normal meant the shutters were closed, the doors were locked, and it was just me and an occasional rodent about the place."
He was shimmering as he spoke to her. She looked at him with her brow furrowed. "I can't believe I said that. I called our life here normal. How could I consider life without Robert normal?" Her voice cracked.
"There, there. It's ok. Things are always changing. Look at me; I have no life at all and I consider that entirely normal. It takes time to adjust to things, but we can adjust," he pointed out.
Carolyn looked stricken. "Robert will never get to see Candy in her wedding dress."
The Captain's shadow grew denser; she could discern where his face was, but the features were blurry and faint. "I understand only too well the folly in feeling sorry for the things we missed. I made it my business for a very long time. Perhaps you can think about the good life he did have. He was blessed with a lovely wife and two charming children."
"You're right. I could drive myself crazy counting up the things that Robert will never do, and that I'll never get to share with him. I know, because I've tried," Carolyn admitted.
"Of course you have. We all have at some point, trying to make sense of it all." The Captain's tone was gentler than she'd ever heard it.
"Mom, can we read a book?" Jonathan called from the stair landing.
"Yes, I think we have time for a short one." Carolyn ascended the stairs.
"I get to pick! I want to read the one where the flower fairy princess marries the Butterfly king!" Candy called out.
"Two more days," Carolyn reminded herself as she climbed. Two more days and wedding mania would be behind them.
She could hear The Captain chuckling to himself.
XXX
"Are they decorating for a wedding or are they putting up a circus tent? It sure sounds like the latter," Martha remarked to Carolyn the next morning.
"I wish I knew," Carolyn said. "I doubt in all its long history that this house has ever had this many people in it!"
"Wait until the ceremony itself. I swear I heard Gladys say she's shoe horning 50 people in here," Martha went on.
"In the house and yard, not the sitting room. I hope." Carolyn bit her bottom lip.
"I'm off to the store to pick up fruit. And flour. And sugar." Martha studied her list to make sure she had written down everything that she needed.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Carolyn checked.
"Same as yesterday; keep the curious crowd out of my kitchen. I'll pick up luncheon meat and bread for sandwiches." Martha decided.
As she'd done the day before, Carolyn made a pot of coffee on the hall table. She also opened a packet of cookies and a sleeve of graham crackers.
Angela Hocking breezed into the foyer with two young women that Carolyn hadn't seen before.
"Good morning—I think," Carolyn said, watching the two young women march to the top of the stairs before she could protest.
"I'm afraid that part of the house—" she began, but Ms Hocking interrupted her.
"Oh, don't worry, we're only interested in the stairs for now. We want to make the most of the wedding decorations. Just between you and me, the ladies have some cute ideas, but they have no idea how to give this place the 'wow' factor."
"You're going to decorate?"
"They can decorate. I'm going to tweak, stage and primp!" Angela said with a smile. "Gladys wants her wedding to stand out and, my goodness, it will! She thought she was just going to have herself a cute lil' nautical wedding, but she hit the jackpot!"
"That's lovely for her, I'm sure, but I insist everything stays on the lower level," Carolyn tried to make herself understood.
Ms Hocking nodded to Carolyn, then waved to her assistants to get busy.
An almost hysterical voice sounded from the sitting room. "I specifically said gold. They're supposed to be gold! These are silver and I don't want silver!" Glady's tone was getting higher and higher as she grew more agitated.
"But honey, we can spray paint them gold. Or add glitter. Anything you want, Gladys, please don't cry," Harvey begged.
"If there's one thing I cannot bear, it's a hysterical woman!" The Captain muttered to himself. "Apparently, I have that in common with that dimwit groom."
"Spray paint? Harvey, how could you suggest such a thing? This is our wedding, not some patio furniture." Gladys sounded deeply offended.
"I'm sorry. I was only trying to help. We have lots of decorations. So many decorations, no one will notice if–"
Gladys's sobs doubled, and Harvey went alternately red, then pale, completely baffled as to what to do.
"Harvey is right," Daisy Zimmerman said in a firm tone.
Harvey's mouth dropped open from shock.
"Probably the only time you'll hear those words come from your Mother-in-law's mouth," The Captain predicted.
"But Mama, first the cake, now this? Bad luck comes in threes," Gladys sniffed.
"Gladys, you are about to make a lifetime commitment. In sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, through joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live," Daisy reminded her daughter. "The color of some paper decorations for your wedding day is as insignificant as a mosquito bite. Now blow your nose and pull yourself together. You've got a lot of life coming down the pike."
Carolyn felt like applauding. Daisy's words were on point. What a luxury it was to fret over the details of a cake and a gown, completely unaware of what the future held in store. Yet she wouldn't for anything in the world dampen Gladys's enthusiasm. There was a sweetness in her naivete that Carolyn envied.
Less than ten minutes later, Angela fixed everything with a sweep of her hand by declaring the silver decorations were perfect for the foyer with its blue walls, and the gold better suited to the sitting room with its creamy walls and gold striped wallpaper.
That cheered up Gladys immediately. After all, if a professional photographer said it looked better, then it must be true.
Harvey was thrilled that Gladys was happy once again. He stumbled out the back door and patted his pockets for a cigarette. He'd quit 6 months earlier, but when his nerves were shot, he still craved a smoke.
The Captain had followed the young man outside. He pitied him…a little. The Captain knew that some of the recent repair men had left behind a half pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He retrieved them and returned to the porch, where he offered them to Harvey.
"Gosh, thank you!" Harvey said, taking them, then realizing that there was no one there but him and that the objects were floating in the air.
"You're quite welcome!" The Captain said. He made his voice sound as if it were coming from the trash bin.
Harvey jumped back and dropped the cigarettes. His head swiveled as he searched for the source of the voice, but saw no one.
Now he wanted a smoke more than ever. Cautiously, he reached for the cigarettes that had fallen to the porch floor.
The Captain felt mischievous. Just as Harvey was about to grab it, he kicked the pack, sending the man stumbling forward. Harvey landed on his hands and knees, skinning his hand in the process.
"Oh, dear," The Captain said to himself. "I didn't intend for that to happen."
The people inside had heard the fall and Gladys came running out. When she saw Harvey on the ground beside a pack of cigarettes, she scolded him.
"You said you quit! You promised, oh Harvey. Cigarettes are so bad for you. What kind of example will you set for our children?"
"Gosh, thanks Harvey!" Angela said coolly. "I was wondering where I'd left those." She held her hand out and Harvey passed her the cigarettes and the lighter.
"See Gladys? They weren't mine. They aren't even my brand." Harvey stood up and inspected the heel of his hand.
"I'm sorry Harvey. Let me see your hand. Look, it's bleeding. Mrs Muir, do you have any peroxide?" Gladys's tone was all concern now.
"Yes, come into the kitchen. I keep a first aid kit there." She motioned for them to follow her.
The Captain decided to make a game of keeping track of Gladys's outbursts. There was a garland of golden anchors hanging on the mantle. Each time Gladys broke down, he would move an anchor from the right side of the garland to the left. No one noticed when he slid two anchors over.
He predicted that by suppertime all 8 anchors would be on the left-hand side. After all, it was only 9 AM, and she'd already had two breakdowns.
A few minutes later, The Captain thought he was going to have a breakdown.
Two trucks pulled into the driveway, one behind the other. The first held the newly reupholstered sitting room furniture, and the second carried 50 gold metal chairs for the wedding guests.
While the delivery men were cramming furniture into a room that was already crowded with boxes, tables and people, Martha returned from the grocery store. She had to park on the side of the road halfway down the street.
"Jonathan, get your wagon and help Martha bring in the groceries," The Captain instructed.
"What about Candy?!" the boy asked, with a keen sense of justice. "Doesn't she have to help?"
"Does she have any manner of conveyance with which to haul groceries?" The Captain asked.
"No…" Jonathan admitted. He'd never heard the term conveyance, but he'd been able to figure out what it meant just the same.
"Well then, let's see if we can't bring some order to the chaos around here!" The Captain sent him off with a clap.
The sitting room was in an uproar as they tried to gather decorations and move tables into the foyer and make room for the seating and furniture.
Jonathan and a grateful Martha brought the groceries in.
"I ain't gettin' paid to move furniture, as is already in the house," the man with the chairs reiterated. "It's an insurance hazard. I drop off the chairs, I pick up the chairs. Everything else is on you."
"Like he said!" the men from the upholstery shop agreed. "See the side of that truck? What's it say? It says Beauman's Delivery. De-live-er-ee. It doesn't say anything about reorganizing."
Carolyn had an idea. "Claymore, it's Mrs Muir," she said into the phone.
"If this is about the wedding-" Claymore began
"Yes, and no. I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need a little extra help around here. Could you send over a few of those high school boys that have helped in the past?"
"The Hired Hands? Why certainly. How many do you need?"
"Three, and we'll feed them lunch," she added, hoping Martha had bought a LOT of lunch meat.
One thing Carolyn appreciated about the Hired Hands is that they didn't ask too many questions or suggest different ways of doing things. As long as they were getting fed and paid, they would do whatever they were told.
Angela took over and directed where the remaining decorations should go, taking photos along the way. She took photos of Martha working on the pies and giving Gladys a lesson in rolling out pastry.
After lunch, the hired hands carried in the furniture and pushed it to the back of the room. They moved the piano against the near wall then brought half the gold chairs in, setting them up so there was an aisle for Gladys to walk down.
Everything was going smoothly until Gladys received a text from her cousin: Flight canceled. Unable to rebook. We'll have to miss your wedding. Her cousin's children were the ring bearer and the flower girl. Recalling her mother's words from earlier, Gladys didn't collapse into a sobbing mess, but she did break into a bout of shoulder shaking and hiccupping.
Her cousin was like a sister to her. They'd planned their weddings together since they were little girls. Gladys was heartbroken.
"What about Jonathan and Candy here?" Harvey suggested. Everyone was so intent on the issue at hand that no one noticed The Captain moved another anchor to the left.
"They're about the same sizes as Ben and Suzy," Daisy agreed.
"And they've been super helpful," Harvey went on.
Carolyn could already see the stars in Candy's eyes at the mere suggestion.
"Please don't feel obligated–" Carolyn began. Candy shot her mother a murderous look.
"This will make for stunning photos!" Angela gushed. "I mean, how adorable!"
Gladys nodded. They were adorable. And the photos would look nicer with the full complement of the wedding party. "We'd better check to see if the dress will fit Candy."
"It will, it will, I know it will!" Candy hopped up and down, clapping her hands in delight.
Jonathan was considerably less enthusiastic. His mouth pursed into a tight pucker and he was looking up at his mother from beneath glowering brows.
"Jonathan, I know Martha's waiting for your help with those wedding pies," Carolyn said gently.
He nodded and marched to the kitchen.
"Now what's the matter with you?" Martha asked. She had taken one look at him and could tell he was in a thunderous mood.
"I have to dress up and be in the wedding," he growled. "I like helping with the decorations, but I don't want to be any old ring boy."
"Oh, I see." Martha nodded her head. "I think this is one of those times when we need to look at the big picture."
"What's that?" Jonathan's face relaxed somewhat, since Martha seemed to be sympathetic.
"Well, in this case, it's the actual wedding pictures." Martha dusted more flour on the countertop.
"But I don't want to be in some dumb picture, in some suit that squeezes," he explained.
"Of course you don't. Who would?" Martha empathized. "But think of it this way, the wedding and the suit wearing only last for a short time, but the picture will last forever."
"I know," he said with a heavy sigh.
"For the rest of her life, Gladys will look at those wedding photos, and she can either look at them and remember your kindness and have a good feeling inside. Or she can see them without you and feel like something important is missing."
Jonathan watched Martha roll out a ball of pastry. "Is that why you're making all these pies?" he asked.
"That's part of it, because I know that even without a picture to look at, when I close my eyes and think of the wedding day, I'll be glad to see my kindness in it, instead of a big empty hole where I could have done better."
"Do you think that being a ring boy will make me feel good, even with the squeezy suit?"
"Yes, I do. It will make you feel a lot better than wishing you'd been kind when the opportunity has passed."
"Mommy said you needed help," Jonathan changed the subject because he wasn't sure yet what he wanted to do.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I need to cut an anchor out of this crust here, and then put it onto that crust there." Martha pointed. "I ran into your mother's friend Laura while I was shopping this morning, and it was just my luck; she had this big anchor cookie cutter she let me borrow."
It was the size of Martha's entire hand.
Angela popped her head in and was thrilled when she saw Jonathan helping. "Perfect! And an anchor to boot! This entire thing is going marvelously better than I ever could have imagined."
Martha wasn't thrilled to have the camera equipment in her kitchen again, but since she'd just gone on and on to Jonathan about being kind and helping out, she let it go. After all, the article that the photos illustrated was paying for the improvements in the cottage, as well as her paycheck.
Jonathan carefully placed the cut out anchor onto a pie that looked ready to go into the oven, and watched as Martha carefully placed the pastry he'd cut the anchor from onto another pie that was waiting for its top. Martha handed him a brush so he could put the egg wash on. Then he sprinkled the crust with large, sparkling sugar crystals.
"Martha, do you think we could make a paper boat out of pie crust…and then fill it with cherries and blueberries?" he mused as he watched her gather the pastry scraps and press them into a ball.
"We'll never know if we don't try!" she declared.
"What in the world are you two doing?" Carolyn asked when she came into the kitchen later on.
"We're making a pie boat!" Jonathan said, all smiles again.
"It sounds delicious. I hope you weren't planning on taking it down to the beach!" She ran her hand over Jonathan's hair.
"No, I think I'll sail it on a big bowl of ice cream," he decided.
Martha was folding a double thickness of aluminum foil into a boat to create a form that the pastry could rest on.
"Ta da!" She set it down in front of Jonathan, shook her head, and said to Carolyn. "Because I don't have enough work to get done."
Jonathan opened the oven door and Martha slid a baking sheet with the pie boat, and several pastry fish, into the oven.
"Have you thought about whether you'll help at the wedding?" Carolyn asked, now that he was in a better mood.
"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I'll get lucky and the suit won't fit me," he considered.
"There's only one way to find out," Carolyn held out her hand, and then went upstairs together to look in one of the two dress bags. Carolyn lifted out the flower girl's dress. "Well, isn't this darling?!" she exclaimed.
Jonathan frowned; he didn't want to look darling. Darling was ok for girls and babies, but not for a boy.
"Candy is going to love this!" his mother declared, carefully laying the lacy dress over the bannister. "Hmmm…" she didn't sound nearly as happy when she pulled out a little sailor's suit. "I don't think this is going to fit. It's much too small."
Jonathan grinned. The outfit was ridiculous with short pants and a kerchief to tie around the neck. It looked more like a Halloween costume than something to wear to the wedding. And if he couldn't fit in the suit, he couldn't be in the wedding!
"The hat might fit!" His mother placed a hat like the one Captain Gregg wore in his painting, onto Jonathan's head. "Looks good."
Jonathan took it off and inspected it. It was pretty cool. It was white with a navy blue brim and there was a ship's wheel embroidered on the front in gold thread. The cap was decorated with a strip of gold braid.
"Since it's like Captain Gregg's cap. Maybe I could dress up like Captain Gregg in the painting," he said thoughtfully, placing the cap back on his head.
"I'm not sure that's what Gladys has in mind, but I can suggest it to her," Carolyn offered.
Jonathan stood up straight and turned his head, imitating the pose in the painting. He wouldn't mind having his photo taken that way.
Candy came dancing up the steps. She oohed and ahhed over the lace dress with its wide sailor's collar. When she got over her initial excitement, she noticed her brother and said, "You look just like that old painting!"
Carolyn was relieved; she had been afraid Candy was going to tell Jonathan that he looked silly, and ruin everything. She ushered Candy into her room to try on the dress in case they needed to make alterations. Jonathan took another look at the sailor suit and was glad all over again that it was too small. He didn't understand why people dressed up all goofy for weddings, anyway. He understood they wanted to look nice, but why did nice have to be stupid and uncomfortable?
"Jonathan?" The Captain appeared.
"Hello Captain!" he said, chest out, back straight, cap slipping slightly backwards.
"At ease, my boy, at ease, but that was a very nice greeting! A marked improvement," The Captain complimented.
"They wanted me to wear that for the wedding." Jonathan pointed to the silly outfit.
"Ah, I see." The Captain nodded gravely.
"It's too small…and looks like it's for a baby. I don't have to wear it."
"Even if it fit, you wouldn't have to. I would have made sure to spill ink or something of the sort on it. In my day, if we were to spot a boy wearing that, we'd have torn it to pieces!" The Captain assured him. "No red-blooded lad would be seen wearing such rubbish. That's an outfit for a wealthy man's son. The rich didn't want us in their part of town, and we didn't want them in ours."
"Sounds like making a bang out of a pop," Jonathan said.
"What do you mean by that?" It was an expression The Captain wasn't familiar with.
"That's what Martha says when something happens and we make too big of a deal over it." He looked at the sailor suit and imagined it torn to pieces or covered in ink. He was relieved he didn't have to wear it, but he might have been making a bang out of the pop about being asked to take part in the wedding.
"Perhaps," The Captain allowed. "But that's how it was, and besides, I didn't have a Martha when I was a youth."
"Didn't you have a dad and mom?"
"I did, but my father was consumed in his trade business and my mother and older sisters spoiled me. My Grandfather had sense, and he disciplined me while we lived with him, but when my father was able to buy a house, I didn't spend the time with my grandfather to learn sense," The Captain admitted, seemingly with some regret. "I suppose I knew better, but since there were no consequences, I did as I pleased."
Jonathan nodded. He understood that. There were things he would do if he thought he could get away with them. He guessed everyone felt that way. But he also knew there were lots of things he would never do, even if no one was paying any attention at all.
A burst of laughter came from below. Jonathan liked having people around, but he was kinda tired of it, too. BunBun absolutely didn't care for all the people or for how much time Jonathan was spending with them. Jonathan had hidden BunBun in his room for safekeeping, and because if he took BunBun around all those people, Candy would say terrible things. She'd call him a baby and say how ratty and nasty BunBun was. That wasn't even true; Martha had laundered BunBun last week, but Candy didn't care about the truth when she had an audience.
"In about 30 minutes the light is going to be coming in through that window!" Angela Hocking was directing people where to go and how to arrange decorations. "This place is wonderful, but if I'd have known about the wedding, I would have brought along some nautical antiques to add to the ambience."
Jonathan glanced up at The Captain with a look that said "you have nautical antiques."
"I don't think they'd be interested. You've seen how particular the bride is, and that photographer woman is tremendously bossy! I doubt anything authentic would satisfy either of them." The Captain said stiffly, in a voice that indicated that this was one of those times when The Captain knew better but was going to do as he pleased.
"I cannot bear any more of this vapid charade. I'm going to retire to the attic!" The Captain excused himself in a blink.
Jonathan didn't know what 'vapid' or 'charade' meant and he wasn't entirely sure about 'retire'. But he understood it was The Captain's old-fashioned way of saying he was going to scram.
Candy and his mother came out of her room. Candy was beaming. Jonathan guessed the dress looked ok on her. She didn't look silly or like a baby. "Martha, Martha! Come look!" Candy called, descending the steps slowly.
Both Martha and Scruffy came out to watch her make her debut a step at a time. She paused dramatically on each step to give her audience the opportunity to admire her.
Martha smiled and Scruffy gave a happy yip. "You look beautiful," Martha said.
Gladys put her hand over her heart, then hugged her mother. "She looks perfect, don't you think?"
Harvey was in the foyer inhaling the pie scented air and not bothering much about the little girl. Jonathan was on Harvey's side. The aroma of pie was more important and more interesting than a girl in a dress.
Angela Hocking commanded, "Stop!" When Candy was about halfway down, she began to snap pictures. Candy responded as if she was a trained model, turning this way and that.
Her smile turned to a scowl when her moment was interrupted by someone at the door.
"Is this Gull Cottage?" a wiry young man called in through the screen.
"Yes, it is," Martha went to the door and Carolyn hurried down the steps to see who had arrived.
"I have a delivery here for G. Zimmerman," he read off a tablet.
"I'm Gladys Zimmerman," the young woman opened the screen. "What do you have?"
The young man jerked his thumb to a van parked in front of the house. "Flowers and…cookies." He poked at his tablet. "Where do you want them?"
Carolyn's eyes widened. Where indeed? The house was slam-packed full.
"I'll just get out of everyone's way," Martha excused herself, shaking her head.
"Madam, NOT in my attic or alcove!" Captain Gregg's voice sounded close in her ear.
"Goodness, I don't know where we can put them. There's no room anywhere and I am not letting them in our personal space," she hissed to The Captain.
"This is getting out of hand. What will it be next? A troop of trained dogs?" he snapped.
Scruffy barked in protest at the very idea. Carolyn had to smile that the dog had heard their resident ghost.
"If they must, they can put them in the carriage house," The Captain granted his permission.
"No, they can't. It's not safe. That old building could fall down at any moment," she muttered.
"Excuse me?" Harvey turned to her. "Did you say something?"
"Yes, you boob! She said there's no more room at the inn! You and yours will have to solve your own problems!" The Captain snarled, appearing suddenly, just so he could disappear in an angry whoosh.
Harvey's eyes grew wide and his chin bobbled as he pointed to a space in the air. "Did you? Did you see that? What was that?!" he implored Carolyn.
"What was what?" she asked sweetly, trying to keep a straight face.
"That, that, that…that. It was him!" Harvey pointed towards the sitting room. "It was him, that old sea captain."
Jonathan, still wearing the cap, came down the stairs. Carolyn saw him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you mean Jonathan? He was just on the stairs."
Harvey shook his head. "No, it couldn't be. This was BIG, and angry, and Jonathan is–" Harvey held his hand low to indicate the boy's height. "And nice."
"Mr Dilman, I believe you're suffering from some pre-wedding jitters," Carolyn teased. "Cold feet are one thing, but hallucinations are serious. Maybe you should sit down and have some lemonade."
"What do you think?" Jonathan asked Harvey, pointing to his cap.
"I think maybe your mother is right. Wedding jitters. I'm not worried about getting married, but if everything isn't just right, there's no way I'll be able to make it up to her," Harvey explained.
"It's just a party," Jonathan observed. "At your birthday party, even if you don't like the cake or all your presents, you still get to make a wish and you're still a year older."
"You and I know that, but it's different for women. They like for things to be just right. The problem is that I don't always know what just right is and then Gladys gets all–" He waved his arms in the air.
Jonathan nodded. He understood about not understanding girls sometimes.
Carolyn and Gladys were removing items from tables, shelves, and counters to make room for the flowers. Daisy checked each arrangement against a list. The hired hands moved a shelf out of the foyer and onto the back porch. The only place left to put anything was outside or upstairs.
"Harvey, help them carry!" Gladys scolded him.
Jonathan followed Harvey outside before he got scolded, too. Before he made it, Daisy handed the boy a white box and told to take it to the refrigerator.
"Now what? I don't have room in this kitchen for anything else," Martha scolded him anyway.
"It's supposed to go in the refrigerator," he relayed.
Martha wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door to the icebox turned fridge. It wasn't as large as modern refrigerators, and there wasn't room for boxes of anything. "I'm sorry, there's no place to put it. We have a little ice. We could put it into a cooler."
Jonathan waited, holding the box while Martha put trays of ice into a cooler on the porch. He looked at the line of beautiful pies on the counter. He was pretty sure that in spite of the flowers, decorations and fancy clothes, those were going to be the best part of the wedding.
He heard raised voices, so he backed up against the counter so no one in the foyer would see him. When Martha called him, he handed her the box while she arranged the boutonnieres and corsages in the cooler. His mother showed up with a similar box a few minutes later.
"I have the bridal bouquet, but there's no room in the fridge," she explained.
They managed to fit it in with the other arrangements.
"What next?" Martha asked, eyebrows raised.
The sound of sobbing and wailing began as if on cue.
"I think you mean 'what now'." Carolyn closed her eyes and winced against the sound.
The Captain spirited down from the attic and moved another anchor on the garland.
"Maybe this wedding is cursed!" Gladys cried. "What else can go wrong? What else?"
"It's ok honey, we'll find someone who can marry us. It may not be a captain like you were hoping, but I'll bet this town has lots of—gosh, I don't know—people who marry other people," Harvey tried to console her.
"On such short notice? Who can we find by tomorrow?" She sniffed.
"Maybe Mrs. Muir knows. Carolyn?" Daisy called.
"You're being paged," Martha said wryly.
Carolyn stomped off to attempt damage control.
It took a few minutes for the three agitated people to explain what had happened. The captain they had hired to officiate had been bringing his boat in when the motor went out. He'd gotten towed to a port in Boston and was stuck there until repairs were made.
"So you need a Justice of the Peace?" Carolyn summarized it.
"I guess that would work, but that sounds so–I don't know—unromantic," Gladys looked as if she was about to erupt in tears once more.
"Well, it's far more romantic than not getting married at all," Daisy pointed out.
Carolyn tapped her finger on her chin, thinking for a moment. "Hold on, let me make a call." She knew who would have the information they needed. Claymore Gregg was involved in the inner workings of the town of Schooner Bay; he'd know who to talk to.
She stepped into the foyer, which was crowded with chairs, flowers and decorations, and pulled out her phone.
"Mrs Muir. I was just leaving–" Claymore said instead of 'hello.'
"I didn't call to complain. I need to pick your brain," she spoke quickly to keep him from hanging up.
"That sounds potentially painful," he replied with a gulp.
"I need your expertise." He was always more amenable when she appealed to his vanity.
"Oh, in that case…what can I do for you?"
"The officiant for the wedding tomorrow is stuck out of town, and we're looking for a Justice of the Peace. I thought you might know who I could call," she explained.
"Well, yes, and no. Maine doesn't have Justices of the Peace. But you can be married by a notary."
"And do you know any notaries?"
"I know a notary of note. Myself," he admitted hesitantly.
"That's perfect! Considering you are the person responsible for the wedding taking place here, this will be a wonderful way for you to make amends."
"Fair enough," he allowed. "I don't have to wear a robe or anything, do I?"
"No robe, but the wedding has a nautical theme. You don't happen to have a captain's uniform, do you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I played Captain Gregg in a skit for the Schooner Bay Founder's Day celebration a few years ago. It's nothing fancy, just a jacket and a hat."
"Claymore, that would be wonderful. You'll be making the bride so happy, and when the bride is happy, everyone else is happy too."
Gladys was relieved when Carolyn told her she'd found another captain to perform the ceremony. She didn't bother to explain that he wasn't a real captain. It didn't really matter, and what Gladys didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Harvey was about to sit down when Gladys shrieked, "Stop! The cookies!"
The white cookie box had been placed on the newly upholstered settee and he hadn't noticed it against the cream colored cushion.
"Can I have a cookie?" Jonathan asked. He had peeked into the room to see why Gladys was having a breakdown.
"They're for tomorrow, young man. Tomorrow, you may have as many as you'd like," Daisy assured him.
Harvey opened the box. "Oh look! They're little ship's wheels."
"They're supposed to be life preservers! Can't you tell the difference, Harvey?" Gladys said accusingly.
"They're helms, ship's wheels," Jonathan confirmed.
Gladys hurried over and looked at the cookies in shock. "They were supposed to be life preservers. To symbolize how we'll support each other through the storms of life," her voice was sliding down toward disappointment along with her shoulders.
"But the ship's wheels symbolize how you'll steer through the storms together!" Carolyn improvised.
"Yeah, Gladys, referencing drowning at a wedding might not be the best idea. I like them, what did you call them Jonathan?" Harvey asked.
"Helm," Jonathan looked up at the Captain's portrait and smiled.
"They're darling!" Angela Hocking declared, having just come in from her smoking break. "We can put them in those paper boats, all along the mantle and on the shelves. I love, love, love them. Life preservers would have given a totally different vibe."
Carolyn thanked her silently, but profusely.
Candy tugged her mother's hand, eagerly. "Mom, did you see the basket of flowers I have for tomorrow? And Ms Daisy said I can keep them!"
"Show me, and then will you help me find Jonathan something to wear tomorrow?" she asked her daughter. Seeking Candy's input and expertise was a wonderful way of getting her cooperation.
Carolyn was thrilled to have an excuse to retreat upstairs, away from the mess and crowding and endless outbursts. She wanted to think that she had been nothing like Gladys when she got married, but when she thought back on it, she'd had a few meltdowns, and her mother had had a few more. Most of the problems had been issues she and her mother solved. She only recalled one instance where she'd gotten Robert involved, and it hadn't gone well. Her mother had told her that men didn't understand. For them, it was more about the wedding night than the wedding.
Carolyn recalled being hurt by her mother's comment, but looking back, she could see the truth in it.
It had helped her put things into perspective; the wedding was the gateway to marriage and their life together. It was nice if it was pretty, there was a lovely meal involved, people toasted with champagne and danced the night away. But what mattered most was the marriage and life they shared—for as long as they both shall live… The shape of cookies was entirely irrelevant, yet she knew that Gladys felt the mistake deeply, and took it personally.
Carolyn admired Candy's flower basket. It was a miniature white wicker picnic basket with flowers around the handle and flower petals inside. Candy helped put together an outfit for Jonathan. Carolyn hoped that she and her daughter would always work so well together, it would simplify things if Candy got married.
"I never want to see another pie as long as I live," Martha's voice came from the hall.
"Are you done?" Carolyn poked her head out.
"Yes, but please, don't tell anyone. I just need to be off my feet for the next five years." Martha offered a wan smile.
"I guess that means we order dinner in again," Carolyn sighed as she spoke to Candy. "This wedding of theirs is getting to be expensive for us."
"It's been fun. And tomorrow will be splendiferous!" Candy exclaimed.
"Yes, it will." Carolyn adopted some of her daughter's enthusiasm.
She snuck into her own room for a few minutes to relax and enjoy some peace and quiet.
She flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. A mere four days ago, she had never heard of the Zimmerman's or the Dilmans and the biggest excitement had been getting new wallpaper hung. Now she was certain they'd be vacuuming gold glitter out of the cracks in the floor for years. And Martha had already declared she was never making another pie. Carolyn gave a weak laugh, then a sigh, then she fell asleep.
XXX
"Well, let me tell you!"
"Just remember who's paying for–"
"Don't tell me. I told the kids to save the money for their honeymoon and get married at the courthouse!"
"Sure, it's beautiful, but so are photos of Aruba!"
"What happened to the cake is a bad sign. All of this nautical everything. What if it's a premonition that the marriage is going to sink?"
Carolyn awoke to raised voices down below. This time, the voices weren't those of Gladys and Harvey.
"What in the world?" She stretched and took in a deep breath and tried to make sense of what she was hearing.
"What's wrong with a simple old-fashioned wedding? Huh? No, today everyone has to have a destination wedding with a thousand matchy matchy details," said a male voice. "The more details you have, the more things you have to go wrong!"
Then she heard a familiar blubber.
"Oh no, not again," Carolyn slipped her shoes on, smoothed her hair and went downstairs to meet the combatants.
As she entered the sitting room, she saw two anchors on the mantle garland move from one side to the other. Harvey saw it too and pointed open mouthed, but no one was paying attention to him. Now it was the parents' turn to have it out.
"A destination wedding, then you 'save money' by making the decorations yourself. And what do you end up with? Home made looking decorations." An older man motioned around the room dramatically.
"Hello. Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!" Carolyn ended up having to shout to get everyone's attention. "I'm Carolyn Muir, I live here. We've given up the last several days and our house to help Gladys and Harvey have a lovely wedding. May I ask who you are?"
The unknown faces belonged to the Dilman's and Mr Zimmerman. They said polite hellos, and thankfully didn't renew the argument they'd been having before she came down. "Is there a problem? Did something new go wrong?" she checked.
"Just that they can't get along!" Gladys pointed to her and Harvey's fathers.
"I have two young children, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that if you are going to fight and argue, you do it outside." Carolyn looked sternly at the men.
"We didn't mean to bother you, Mrs. Muir," Mr Dilman hung his head apologetically.
"You were shouting so loud it woke me from my nap," she let him know.
He looked away, clearly embarrassed.
Harvey was examining the anchor garland and trying, unsuccessfully, to slide the anchors back into place.
"You certainly are setting a poor example for your children on how to solve differences!" Carolyn said sharply. "A great deal of thought and love has gone into these decorations, and there's not a thing wrong with anything made at home. I'm sure all the guests tomorrow will be more than happy to eat the homemade pie," she went on.
Gladys nodded as she sniffed loudly and then blew her nose.
"I can remove them from the property, if you'd like." A familiar voice sounded, and Carolyn could see a glimmering shadow standing between the two men. The Captain had a hand near each of the men's throats.
It was very tempting to nod and see everyone's faces as an invisible force sent the men tumbling out the front door and onto the lawn. But just knowing it was an option seemed to soothe Carolyn, who gave a small shake to her head. The shadow shrugged and then melted away.
Harvey was staring pointedly at the place where The Captain had been standing, as if he'd seen something, but wasn't sure what.
Daisy spoke. "Mrs Muir has been the most gracious and helpful host. We've hijacked her home and her life and she has not said a mean or spiteful word to us. So yes, if you must argue, then don't you dare do it here. She has no part in your squabbles."
Carolyn offered Daisy a grateful smile.
"We don't mean anything by it," Mr Dilman offered. "We're just two old grouse in the woods, puffing up our chests and strutting around."
Mr. Zimmerman was nodding. "I don't even dislike the guy, it's just when we talk about the wedding…I just want my Gladys to have the best. That's all."
"Gladys is a lucky young woman. Harvey loves her very much," Carolyn assured the men. "And Harvey is blessed to have Gladys. She pays such attention to detail, and she has a tremendous eye for beauty." Carolyn felt a twinge of guilt at saying that. Not that Gladys had nothing to offer, but Carolyn hadn't seen her demonstrate it the past few days.
"You're absolutely right. Listen, everyone's nerves are on edge and it's way past dinner time. We'll all feel better after we eat," Mr Zimmerman tried to turn the situation around. "Come on, everyone, the meal's on me. We can practice behaving like family. Mrs Muir, you and yours too. Join us," he encouraged.
"That's very nice of you–" Carolyn began.
Jonathan sensed that his mother was about to turn down the offer, so he piped up. "Oh boy! I'm starving, can we go to Morrie's?" he accepted the invitation for all of them. "I'll go tell Martha and Candy!" In a moment, they could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.
"I guess that's settled, then." Carolyn smiled, knowing she was going to have a stern talk with her son about manners, but Mr Zimmerman had a point; they were all tired, hungry and on edge.
"What about the photographers?!" Gladys said. "They should come too."
"Well, they're actually here to photograph the house," Carolyn pointed out. Any photos they took of the decorations or the wedding party were purely incidental.
"But Angela helped us so much with the decorations," Daisy argued. "It's just too bad that pleasant Mr Peevey isn't here. He's such a darling."
Carolyn suppressed a giggle at the idea of darling Mr Peevey. She liked Mr Peevey very much, but darling was not the adjective she'd have chosen to describe him.
When Carolyn thought about all the different people who had been in and out of the house the past few days, her head spun. It seemed like half the population of Schooner Bay had been involved in the wedding so far.
Why, there wouldn't be room for all of them in Morrie's Lobster House!
Martha perked up at the mention that a hearty dinner was to be had with no expense or effort on her part. Candy loved Morrie's because they served a rainbow colored selection of kiddie cocktails. Carolyn didn't entirely approve of grooming kids to order cocktails, but the kids loved it, and she'd had her share of Shirley Temples and Fizzy Froggies when she was a child and it hadn't done her any harm.
She hurried up to her room to run a comb through her hair and change her shoes. Without bothering to call out his name, she spoke aloud, "Good news. It's only for a few hours, but you're going to have the entire house all to yourself. Well, Scruffy will be here."
"Yes, so I see. Quite the hub bub you had going on below deck. You handled them rather deftly, Madam. I must say, you would make a fine diplomat."
"Thank you! I suppose ten years of marriage taught me a thing or two about negotiating with men." As she combed her hair, she looked in the mirror to see if he had materialized behind her, but there was nothing there.
"I suppose you had your husband at your beck and call without him even realizing what was happening." The Captain said it as if it were a compliment.
She guessed that a confirmed bachelor could afford to joke about it, knowing he was free of the snares that entrapped other men. Of course, he would laugh at their expense, and admire a woman who was cunning enough to control another man, but not cunning enough to catch him.
"My husband and I were a team. Neither of us led the other around or manipulated the other to get what we wanted. You have a very cynical view of marriage," Carolyn said as she pulled on a nicer pair of shoes.
"I'm only going by what I've seen in the few marriages I was close enough to observe. I did not mean to insult either you or your late husband. Please accept my apologies and enjoy your evening out."
He was gone. Carolyn didn't know how she knew he was gone, but she knew. She could nearly always tell when he was near, even when he was silent. He caught her unawares now and then, but not as often as when she had first moved in.
…
"It's rather nice to have a reason to pull out my best purse and jacket," Martha said with a smile when Carolyn met her in the hall. "Reminds me I'm more than just a pie baker."
"Oh Martha! You're so much more! I never could have come to Gull Cottage without you. And look at all the adventures we've had already."
Martha's eyes were glistening with emotion. "I wasn't having any fun in Philly. It's nice to be where I'm appreciated."
"Come on Martha, come on Mom!" Candy encouraged from the bottom of the stairs. "I'm so hungry I could eat ten lobsters. I think I'll get a green drink today, something that looks exotic!"
"I didn't know she knew that word!" Carolyn said to Martha.
"I think they were talking about exotic honeymoons earlier."
"Oh, please no. She's already obsessed with all things wedding. Please give me another several years before I have to deal with honeymoons." Carolyn begged the powers that be.
She and Martha shared a laugh as they headed down the stairs.
XXX
"At last!" The Captain rubbed his hands together. "Peace and quiet!"
Scruffy gave a little yip to remind The Captain that he was still there.
"Yes, Scruffy. I realize that I am not alone, and that may be a good thing. I mean, look at this place!"
Scruffy did and gave a sad little groan. The house was a crowded mess and despite all the time and people working on them, some of the decorations were not in their places.
"The sooner we get things shipshape, the sooner they will return to their lodgings in town," The Captain reasoned. "So let's see what we can do."
The first order he gave Scruffy was to bring in driftwood from the back porch and place it in the fireplace. Meanwhile, The Captain, in a rare spirit of cooperation, brought some of his nicer instruments and keepsakes from the attic to decorate the house.
Nautical was what they sought, so nautical was what they'd get! He removed a few incidental hangings and replaced them with the antiques. He had never considered himself artistic, but he had an eye for what was pleasing, and he believed the space was much improved by the fresh additions.
He brought in a well-branched driftwood that young Jonathan had lugged up from the beach and shoved it into the brass umbrella stand. Upon it, he hung the silly sand dollars.
Now for those cookies shaped like a ship's wheel. He recalled Candace had a rack in her room with pegs on it on which she hung her doll's clothes. He believed it would work nicely for the cookies.
While he was in her room, his eyes fell upon a large metal ship of Jonathan's. It was worse for wear, having been acquired secondhand, but it had a deck that would hold any cookies that didn't fit on the clothes rack.
"Oh dear, I'm finding I'm feeling rather domestic," The Captain said to Scruffy. "This task is not befitting a sea captain, but the situation is nearly an emergency and requires all hands on deck!"
Scruffy wagged his tail in agreement. The Captain rewarded him with a piece of broken cookie.
The Captain finished hanging the ropes and ribbons and garlands. He moved the coffee table to the back porch to make room for the chairs. He made sure the candles were all snug in their holders, and he even arranged the paper boats around the room and placed the little mint life preservers in them.
In spite of how silly most of the decorations were (at least in his mind) the completed effect was attractive and cheerful. Poor Gladys was clueless concerning all things nautical, but it worked all the same. Scruffy barked for another chunk of cookie.
Looking over it all, The Captain felt wistful, and wished he could take part. He imagined how his sisters might have been at their weddings–as hopeful and jittery as Gladys–walking into the parlor at his parents' home to meet their futures. He'd been at sea and missed them both.
His mind drifted to Carolyn, and how she must have looked; her face bright with anticipation. She had mentioned being married in a church. He imagined walking up the aisle, her groom waiting for her with a dry mouth, damp palms and a lump of gratitude nearly large enough to choke him, because that fine woman was about to become his wife.
The last thing the Captain did before retiring was to take the various boxes to the backyard and put them in the dilapidated carriage house to get them out of the way.
While they were outside, Scruffy did his business, then followed The Captain back into the house.
"Well, Scruffy, I believe we've done our good deed for the day. Shall we retire upstairs? I'm sure the hub bub will begin again at daybreak."
Scruffy climbed the stairs and went off to sleep in his bed in Martha's room. The Captain drifted up to the widow's walk and looked out over the beach. The faint sound of music and the glow of bonfires drifted to him. A lump of gratitude grew in his throat that someone like Carolyn Muir had invaded his life and brought a great deal of hubbub and chaos with her.
XXX
"Now you two hurry straight upstairs and brush your teeth. It's way past your bedtime!" Carolyn instructed the children when they entered the house.
"Yes, but wasn't it a glorious night?" Candy said dreamily.
"It was a very pleasant evening," Martha agreed. A hearty meal and a tall glass of pilsner had helped her forget how sore her feet and back were.
"I'm just grateful they agreed to go to their hotel instead of coming back here to work on decorations. I don't think I could have held my temper," Carolyn admitted. "I suppose it means they'll be here that much earlier in the morning, but at least we'll get a little break."
"There can't be that much left to do," Martha said with a shrug. "They were at it all day."
Carolyn decided to take a quick peek at the sitting room to assess how much there was left to do, now that the room was empty of people. She turned the lights on and gave a little gasp. The room was immaculate. The stacks of boxes were gone. Everything had been set out and there were antiques she'd never seen before hanging on the walls .
She didn't recall the Zimmermans bringing in any actual nautical decor, only facsimiles. "But how? I'm certain we were all at the restaurant. Unless someone in the wedding party?" Carolyn couldn't make sense of it. Had the hired hands returned? Did Harvey have other family members she hadn't met yet?
"Does it meet with your approval, madam?" The Captain's voice came from behind her. She turned, but she didn't see him.
"YOU did this?" Carolyn could hardly believe it.
"I had some help. Scruffy did a good bit of fetching and carrying," The Captain gave credit where it was due.
"I hope you didn't let Scruffy handle the cookies." Carolyn suppressed a giggle.
"No, but he did receive one in the way of payment for his help. It was already broken, and I believe no one will miss it."
Carolyn walked around, admiring the way the room and decorations had come together. Things had seemed like quite a hodge podge earlier. Now everything was attractively arranged; she knew Gladys would be pleased.
"These are your things?" Carolyn gently touched an instrument she did not recognize.
"That's a plotting circle, and over there is a pelorus."
Carolyn could hear his footsteps as he crossed the room to introduce her to the tools he'd used during his life.
"These are brass plotting tools I use even to this day!" He sounded quite pleased with himself.
"And those charts? I've never seen them before," Carolyn pointed.
"I have chosen to keep my best and favorite items out of view, but I thought, given the occasion, they might add to the festivities,"
"That's very kind of you. What's this? I didn't think they had torpedoes when…" She let that thought trail off, not sure if he'd be insulted at her referencing his age.
"That," his footsteps drew near, "Is a chip log."
"I thought a ship's log was a kind of journal." Carolyn was puzzled.
"You are correct, Madam. But this–" The object raised up into the air. "Is for determining speed. You use it with the sand glass." Which also rose into the air and then came back to rest on the mantle.
"It's a good thing Gladys didn't know about all these instruments. We would have had to cut out dozens of them and cover them in glitter!" Carolyn noted.
"An anchor is a more worthy symbol for matrimony, I suppose, than a sand glass," The Captain allowed.
"Or a compass that brings to mind a person wandering around lost," Carolyn added.
"A rather apt image for Harvey, I believe," The Captain voiced his estimation of the young groom.
"He's sweet," Carolyn said generously. "And so are you,"
"Bite your tongue! I am many things but I am not sweet! I brought down these instruments in an effort to educate and add a bit of authenticity to this pathetic collection of nautical nonsense!" He boomed.
"Shhh! Ok, I'm sorry, you're not sweet. You're temperamental, and imposing and–"
"Wow! Look at all this neat stuff!" Jonathan said as he entered the room. "I'll bet this will make Miss Gladys happy."
"It looks very nice, doesn't it?" his mother agreed.
"Yeah, almost like a real ship!" Jonathan smiled up at the portrait.
"Dum dum de dum, Dum dum de dum…." Candy entered the room solemnly, sounding out the wedding march.
"Ok, you two. Let's all march up to bed. Tomorrow is a very big day and we have to be in top form to help Miss Gladys in any way we can!" Carolyn appealed to the children's desire to be part of it all.
The Captain turned off the light behind them as they headed up the stairs.
He resented being called sweet. It was unbefitting to a man of his status and rank, but he appreciated being complimented by Mrs Muir. If only she had chosen a different term. Perhaps generous, or, if it had to appeal to the female sensibility, he could tolerate endearing, or even charming. But never, ever sweet.
XXX
"You'd think a town that tries to appeal to tourists would be a little more…with it," Gladys sniffled the next morning upon finding out that the hair and makeup stylist she'd reserved had no record of her reservation.
"Now Gladys, no crying. This is your wedding day and it will be a lot harder to hide puffy eyes and a red nose without a beautician," Martha pointed out.
Carolyn nodded, but she wasn't surprised about the mixup. Schooner Bay attracted a small share of tourists, but that was hardly its primary interest, and it made no attempts to cater to them. In fact, that was one of its charms; it was relatively unspoiled. A person could visit most any coastal town and get a nautical experience as authentic as Gladys's glitter covered anchors, or they could come to Schooner Bay and get the real thing.
Claymore's double booking of the cottage was in the same vein. Businesses here didn't book things a year or two ahead. If she'd made an appointment with the salon 12 months ago, they would expect her to confirm it. If they didn't hear from her, they assumed she'd forgotten— if they'd bothered to write it down in the first place.
The Captain heard the now familiar crying, and it took all the willpower he had to leave the paper anchors in place.
"We have four adult women here," Carolyn pointed out. "We can do your hair and makeup. You're already young and beautiful. We'll just enhance things a tiny bit."
"Mrs Muir, you're so kind. You're right, I shouldn't be worrying about anything. So far, no matter what has happened, everyone has worked together to make it right," Gladys said gratefully.
They brought her into Carolyn's room in order to take advantage of the natural light coming in the bay window.
"The decorations are just beautiful. I can't thank you enough for setting everything up. You must have been up half the night," Daisy told Carolyn as they set out the contents of Gladys's two suitcases.
"I had a little help," Carolyn said with a smile.
…
"Stunning! This just gets better and better!" Angela Hocking's voice came booming up the stairs. "With the flowers set out, it's simply fabulous, and the morning light is like the kiss of grace."
"I'd better see if she needs anything," Martha offered. She lived by the adage that too many cooks spoil the soup, and Gladys hardly needed three women to do her makeup for her.
"Martha, Martha, Martha, is that what you're wearing to the wedding?" was Angela's perplexed greeting. Angela herself was dressed more for work than a special occasion, but apparently that was allowed when you were on the back side of a camera.
"No, it isn't, but we still have several hours before the ceremony," Martha pointed out icily.
"Are the Zimmermans here?" Angela poked her head into the sitting room.
"Yes, Gladys is upstairs getting made up." Martha noticed that for the first time in several days, the coffee pot wasn't in the foyer. In its place was a large flower arrangement.
"I'll put some coffee on," Martha excused herself, but Angela followed right behind. "I need to know when the bride is getting dressed so I can get some candid shots."
"Pardon me if this is a stupid question, but just exactly what does a half dressed bride have to do with a historical house?" Martha asked as she scooped coffee.
"It shows that the house is still alive! That its best days aren't behind it. It illustrates that people flock to have their most special moments take place right here." Angela made a slow circle as she explained. "The house may be 19th century, but it's still dynamic in the 21st century. It still has something to share, and something to say!" Her enthusiasm was admirable.
The Captain breathed in the scent of fresh coffee grounds and watched the photographer wax eloquent about his beloved home. Part of him wanted to say 'poppycock!' to her flowery words, but he also admired that she appreciated his home and spoke of it with reverence.
"I guess I had better mix up some lemonade while the coffee perks," Martha said with a sigh. She called for Candy and Jonathan to help juice the lemons.
Candy was a chatterbox. She couldn't stop remarking on every detail of the wedding. Jonathan was uncharacteristically quiet.
Angela took photos of the children working at the table that was covered in a blue and white checked cloth.
Jonathan washed his hands, after licking his palm where some sugar had stuck, and then went out front to sit on a lion and think his own thoughts. Just about everything that needed to get done for the rest of the morning was lady stuff. When he got outside, he was perplexed and displeased to see that the lions had enormous bows around their necks. In the middle of each bow was a golden anchor.
"Weddings are like sand," he said to no one in particular. "They get everywhere,"
"A very apt comparison, lad." The Captain appeared on the porch beside him.
"I'll bet even after Miss Gladys and Mr Harvey leave, we'll still be tripping over wedding junk."
"Not as long as they will," The Captain guessed, but Jonathan missed his meaning.
"There you are!" Candy said with exaggerated exhaustion as she stepped onto the porch with Angela behind her. "Miss Angela wants to take some pictures of us on the lions!"
"I'm not sure my lion wants his picture taken with all this fancy stuff hanging around his neck," Jonathan said.
Angela came and stooped before him. "I know that a wedding isn't as much fun for a little boy as it is for us gals, and I've noticed something; you've been a real champ. You've helped so much, no wonder you're tired."
He nodded his head, but remained suspicious. All her sympathy and gratitude sounded like it was leading to another request.
"It may seem like all of this is for Miss Gladys." Angela swept her hand around, "But the reason I'm here is to help your mother with the article she's writing. She had a good start, but now with this wedding going on…" Angela smiled, "Honestly, it was a lucky break for her. So, it may seem like you're helping Miss Gladys, but you're really helping your mom." Angela said the last part in a loud whisper, as if she was sharing a secret.
Jonathan looked to Captain Gregg to get his take on the situation. The Captain nodded. The photographer might be laying it on a bit thick, but he could follow her line of thinking and see how this would make Carolyn's article more attractive to the mostly female readers of the magazine.
"OK," Jonathan agreed. Since he didn't have to wear that horrible sailor suit, he would cooperate with everything else.
Still, he was having a hard time smiling on demand. Captain Gregg stood behind the photographer and pulled silly faces until Jonathan was laughing from deep in his belly.
Next, Angela put a bow around Scruffy's neck and took pictures of him and the children on the front porch.
"Candy! Can you come up here?" Carolyn's voice came from her upstairs window.
"Goody, goody, goody! I get to put on my dress!" She jumped up and ran into the house.
Angela went to, but she returned in a few minutes holding the little sailor's cap from the ring bearer's outfit. Jonathan felt the stubborn rising inside him again. He would not wear it, he just wouldn't!
"Look what I have!" Angela spoke in a coaxing tone.
She set the cap on Scruffy's head. He was confused and kept it on for as long as it took for her to snap a few photos. Next, she placed the cap on Jonathan's lion and took a picture of him on the lion's back.
"In my day, you went to have your photo taken. You had to remain very still, and it was quite expensive. Yet, I've seen this woman take hundreds of photos," The Captain said in shock. "The Zimmermans must be extremely wealthy if they can afford all those photographs."
Jonathan shrugged, and Angela took a photo of that too.
The chords of the wedding march sounded from the piano. Martha was practicing one last time to make sure she had it right.
"Wonderful!" Angela declared and hurried into the house to annoy Martha.
"Finally." Jonathan snatched the hat from the lion's head and it fell to the porch. Scruffy grabbed it and shook it. He dropped it, barked at it, and shook it again. Then he ran off around the corner of the house with the hat. Jonathan hoped he buried it in the backyard.
XXX
First, they did Gladys's hair and makeup. Then Carolyn curled Candy's short bob, as best as she could, before affixing a bow to it. She helped Candy into her beautiful lace dress. Angela brought her the white basket of flowers and took her outside for more photographs.
Daisy did her own hair and makeup and tried to keep her daughter calm. Gladys's dress hung from the top of a bookcase in Carolyn's room, Her veil was draped over the settee.
Carolyn sat on the edge of her bed and gazed about the room that looked like a bride had exploded in it. Her mind drifted to the morning of her own wedding. Her mother had been efficient, much like Daisy Zimmerman. Both Carolyn's dress and veil had been much shorter than Gladys's but inside, their hearts had been much the same.
With her mother on patrol, Carolyn had been ashamed to show how nervous and scared she was. Carolyn had wondered if she was doing the right thing—marrying rather than pursuing her writing career for a few more years.
On the brink of promising 'forever', forever seemed like a very long time. Well, she thought with a sniff, the joke had been on her. Forever hadn't been that long after all.
"Oh, Robert!" she sobbed. It wasn't her wedding day; she was allowed to cry. Carolyn wasn't sorry for her life with him. She loved their children more than she had known she could love anyone, but suddenly the effort and emotion of all the years that had passed settled on her.
She sucked in a gasp of air, and her shoulders fell with the weight of it all. She wished there was an easier way to learn. Life was a school of hard knocks and Gladys was going to find it out for herself, in her own way. Carolyn shed tears for all the struggles, trials and disappointments of her own life, Martha's life, Daisy's and now Gladys's. Then she cried for Candy and Jonathan, because no matter what she did, no matter how generous and conscientious a parent she was, she could not protect them from what life would require of them.
The Captain had come up to their room to tell her about the photo session on the porch. He found her sobbing and drew back. He hadn't the foggiest notion how he might comfort her. He knew that sometimes women needed a cry. By their own admission, a cry did them good. He would not deny her that, but she sounded so piteous.
A light knock came at the door.
Carolyn looked around quickly for a tissue, but the box had been moved when they were doing Gladys's makeup. The Captain sailed the box to her.
She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose.
"Mrs Muir?" came Gladys's voice.
"Yes, Gladys," her voice came out as more of a croak. The Captain brought her a bottle of water.
It was rather disconcerting to have things flying about her room on their own, but she accepted the bottle and took several sips.
"Do you need something?" Carolyn asked, sounding more like herself.
"Are you ok?" Gladys asked, slipping into the room.
Carolyn wiped her eyes again. "I am…"
Gladys came to her. "Until this morning, I didn't know that you're a widow. All of this," Gladys motioned to her bridal paraphernalia, "Must be hard on you."
Carolyn nodded and shrugged at the same time. "It's been nice to have you here, and to help out." Carolyn told her, truthfully. "But it brings back memories."
"Candy mentioned her father had passed, and my heart just sank. I thought you were divorced, or a single parent." Gladys sat beside her.
"We moved out here for a fresh start," Carolyn explained. "It felt too hard to do back there." She didn't bother to explain where back there was.
Gladys nodded. "I was talking to my mother, and we were going through the list: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I had everything except the something borrowed, and then I looked around and realized I've borrowed your home, your kids, your housekeeper, everything!"
Carolyn let out a strangled giggle through her tears.
"And I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart." Gladys kissed Carolyn on the cheek.
Carolyn smiled despite her tears and offered the young bride a hug.
They had barely parted when a sharp voice and a crisp "clap, clap" sounded in the doorway. "Gladys, don't you even think of crying!" a stately woman of advanced age scolded. She glared perilously at Carolyn before turning her attention back to Gladys. "We have seventy-three photos to pose for before your groom arrives." She referenced the clipboard she was carrying.
Carolyn rose and approached the woman. "I'm Carolyn Muir, and this is my home." She offered a hand.
The woman took it and held it in an awkward droopy clasp for a moment before dropping it. "I'm Hildegard Van Heusen, Gladys's grandmother." She patted her blue rinsed silver updo.
"Welcome to my home." Carolyn reminded the woman again that she was a guest, not the mistress of Gull Cottage.
"This is the part I've dreaded," Gladys admitted. "It's been easy up till now. The photographers were just taking photos of me dressing and all that jazz. From now on, I have to look stately and happy and like I'm not really posing." Gladys stood up and walked towards her grandmother with her shoulders stooped.
She quickly remembered herself and straightened up, throwing her shoulders back and twisting her mouth this way and that, as if she'd forgotten how to smile.
"You live here!" Hilde peered down at Carolyn. "How inconvenient that must be with people forever having parties in your home."
"It certainly keeps things interesting," Carolyn said agreeably, patting at her face to dry any lingering tears. She didn't see any point in explaining the booking mix up if the woman didn't already know.
"Mrs Muir, I know you said we couldn't use the private areas of the house, but the photographer was hoping we could take pictures of my father putting on my veil here in front of the bay window." Gladys looked both nervous and hopeful.
Carolyn glanced over. That would put the wedding party very close to The Captain's binnacle and she was pretty sure he wouldn't like that. Then she noticed the telescope nod ever so slightly, in the affirmative She smiled; she'd always suspected The Captain was an old softy. It probably hadn't hurt that Gladys had asked nicely, and Carolyn had given him the right of refusal.
"I'll go help Jonathan dress while you take your photos," Carolyn excused herself.
She arrived just in time. Poor Jonathan was stuck with his sweater half on and half off and unable to make it go in either direction.
"Oh dear! Here, let me help you!" She hurried over and guided his head through the correct hole and got his sleeves tugged straight.
"Is there a rule that for weddings, people have to dress in clothes that are hard to get into?" he asked as his mother brushed his hair into place.
"It seems that way, doesn't it?"
"If I was ever going to get married, but I'm not, I'd tell everyone to wear their pajamas. Or I'd get married on the beach and they could wear their bathing suits," he declared.
"That's very practical," Carolyn said admiringly. He was an awfully good sport about having to wear a sweater on such a warm day.
"Harvey told me he has to wear a monkey suit!" Jonathan told her. "I'll bet that's going to be even hotter than my sweater."
Carolyn suppressed a giggle. "I don't think the monkey suit he's wearing is the same as what you're thinking. That's just a silly way to say a dress up suit. You know, the kind with a tie," she explained.
"He's going to have to be pretty careful when he's eating Martha's pie. It makes a lot of crumbs," Jonathan said with a nod.
Carolyn helped him into his jacket and brushed off his faux captain's hat. "You'd better carry this. They might not want you wearing it in all the pictures," she instructed.
The sounds of piano music floated up from below. Martha was playing from a book of popular love songs they'd found in the piano bench. The songs were dated, or if you were being generous, 'classic.'
"I've been practicing," Jonathan said, taking a big step, then stopping a moment before stepping once more.
"I can tell. You're doing it perfectly." Carolyn glanced around, then leaned in to say. "I think Gladys is lucky her original ring bearer couldn't make it. I don't think he'd do half as good a job as you do, and I'm sure he wouldn't have been so helpful with the decorations."
He grinned at her.
The next hour was the battle of the photographers as the wedding photographer tried to set up his shots while Angela Hocking was ordering people about so she could get hers.
"And these are just the photos with the bride's family," Carolyn sank down into one of the gold chairs in the sitting room.
"I don't dare suggest coffee out of fear someone might spill it, but I think we could all use a cup…or three," Martha confided.
"You make that old piano sound pretty darn good!" Carolyn complimented her friend. "And you make those old songs sound good too!"
"I think it's more dignified to have live music at a wedding. They were going to use something on the computer, but I can't have Gladys coming down the aisle to some electronic buzzing. Not when we have a piano right here," Martha reasoned.
Carolyn nodded and studied her friend's face. For all the extra work and hours on her feet, Martha looked somehow younger this morning. Her cheeks were a natural pink and her eyes were bright. The wedding was having a powerful effect on all of them; pushing them out of their comfort zones and towards something better.
"Knock, knock! Hello?" a familiar voice called from the front porch. "Mrs Muir? Martha?"
"Come on in, Claymore!" Carolyn called. She stood up the second he entered the room. She had forgotten that she'd asked him to dress as a captain and was stunned by the sight of him.
"What?" He patted the front of his jacket. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all, it's just that you look–" She wasn't sure she knew the word for it.
"Handsome," Martha supplied with a dip of her head. "You look very handsome Claymore."
That hadn't been the word Carolyn was searching for, but it would do.
"Why yes," Carolyn nodded. "You do look very–"
"Hey, Mr Claymore, we match!" Jonathan tugged on the man's sleeve. "I have a hat too!" He put his on and grinned.
"Both of you look very dashing," Carolyn said, deciding that word summed it up nicely.
Claymore patted the top of his hat and tugged his lapels straight. "Thank you. I'm rarely called to dress up. Maybe I should do it more often. Suits me, don't you think?"
"Not me," Jonathan contradicted. "I don't care how handsome I look."
Carolyn checked the clock on the wall. "I need to change into my wedding outfit, but I'm not sure if they're done with their photographs yet."
Just then, a burst of chatter sounded from above as Gladys and her growing entourage descended the stairs. "Is my father here yet?" Gladys asked hopefully.
"There's my baby girl! Look at you, just look at you!" Mr Zimmerman wore a wide smile and rubbed his hands together as he entered the house.
"I think this is my cue," Carolyn whispered to Martha, fingers crossed.
She sneaked past the bunch coming down the stairs and ignored the bunch coming in the front door, including three bride's maids wearing sky blue sailor style dresses.
When she got to her room, she felt like screaming. It was a mess, with makeup, hair brushes, cans of mousse and panty hose strewn about. Luckily, The Captain's side of the room had fared better. There were some nylons draped over the settee and the dress bags hanging over a table, but for the most part, it had been spared. She removed a sash and headband from the binnacle and hoped he'd be none the wiser.
Carolyn didn't have time for a shower, hair set, style, and makeup. Hopefully, she wouldn't be in too many photos. She'd like a photo of the kids with her and Martha, but there was no reason for her to be in any of the wedding photos. Angela Hocking would need a photo of her as the author of the article and resident of Gull Cottage, but she could take those at any time.
Carolyn opened her wardrobe. She owned few dressy dresses. She had the matronly lavender suit that she'd worn to Robert's funeral. There was the little black dress she'd worn to several cocktail parties with Robert's associates. She had a plaid suit that was darling, but not right for a wedding. She moved outfits to the side and found a sky blue suit that had always reminded her of stewardess uniforms from her mother's time. The color was very close to that of the bride's maids' dresses, but the style was completely different.
She pulled it out and frowned. Thick creases criss-crossed it from being shoved in the back of the wardrobe. She knew a few minutes in a warm dryer with a damp washcloth would knock the wrinkles out of it. Luckily, the iron and ironing board were already out and set up, so she could iron her blouse while the suit went for a tumble.
"So you've found something suitable to wear?" The Captain's voice seemed to come from the binnacle.
Carolyn held the suit up in front of her for his approval.
"I'm not up to date on modern fashions, but the style is most becoming and the color highlights your eyes," he said.
"There's something about a wedding that seems to bring out the best in everyone," Carolyn noted as she turned the iron on.
"Everyone, perhaps, save the bride. I've lost count of the number of times she's collapsed into tears. I almost wish it were her rather than the cake that fell into the ocean."
"That's not very nice. But I agree, it will be nice to have the house back to ourselves," Carolyn allowed.
"Quite," The Captain agreed wholeheartedly.
"I've got to run this to the laundry room," Carolyn excused herself.
…
The wedding party was on the front lawn, taking photos in front of the house. It was hard to believe that 5 days ago they had never heard of the Zimmermans, the Dilmans or Angela Hocking. Now they nearly felt like family.
Jonathan, in his role as ring bearer, was being woven into the various combinations of people for the photos.
When Carolyn returned to her room, The Captain was gone. She ironed the blouse and arranged her hair. She was fretting over which shade of lipstick would best suit her outfit when she heard a shriek coming from below.
"Hurry, let me through, let me pass, he can't see me, he can't see me!" Gladys sounded hysterical.
"Harvey must have arrived," Carolyn said with a sigh. Only 30 more minutes till the ceremony, thank goodness!
"Into the sitting room, everyone!" Came Angela's authoritative command. "You can relax in here while we take photos of the groom and his men!"
Carolyn was wearing her housecoat; and she didn't want to dress just to run down for her suit.
"Don't worry, Gladys, my eyes were closed. I didn't see anything!" Harvey promised below.
"Madam, why is he not allowed to see the woman he's going to marry at noon?" The Captain asked.
"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride until she's processing up the aisle. I don't know where the notion came from, but most people take it quite seriously. I really need to get dressed." Carolyn fretted.
"Allow me to fetch your wedding attire for you," The Captain offered.
Carolyn assumed he would send it up via Mr Belvedere.
"Would you? That would be a big help."
"At your service." And he was gone.
…
"It was just a little white lie," Harvey muttered to himself. He was sitting on a step in the foyer, hunched over, waiting for his groom's men to arrive. "And I didn't see all of her, just a lot of lace and some flowers."
He didn't understand all these superstitions—what was good luck, and what was bad luck. Weddings were complicated enough without adding on all that extra stress.
His mother had explained that not seeing the bride before the ceremony was a custom from arranged marriages where the couple had never even met. The bride's family didn't want the groom to see her before they were married, in case he didn't like what he saw and changed his mind.
With him and Gladys, it was the other way around. She was terrific, and beautiful, and it was him who needed to worry that she would change her mind.
He was lost in thought when someone passed him on the stairway.
"Oh, excuse me!" Harvey said, getting to his feet. He looked to see who was passing and his jaw dropped. Sailing slowly up the stairs was a woman's outfit on a hanger. It moved up the stairs, then down the hall.
Harvey pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and patted the sweat that had just broken out on his forehead. He rarely carried a handkerchief, but with Gladys being so weepy about everything related to the wedding, he thought it would be a good idea. He hadn't imagined he'd need it himself.
"But…" Harvey pointed at the dress. "I mean…how…" His throat felt unbearably dry.
He heard a knock, then a door opening. Then Mrs Muir thanked someone.
Harvey sat back down, hard. It had to have been his imagination, because Mrs Muir wouldn't thank an invisible someone for carrying that dress upstairs.
The Captain snickered at the young man's reaction. Surely it didn't hurt to have a little fun with him. He could explain it away as stress or having cold feet before the wedding.
The Captain sailed to the kitchen and got the boy a glass of water. Still invisible, he carried it into the foyer and held out to him.
Harvey's eyes roved to the left, then the right, to see if anyone was messing with him. He mopped his face again and ran a finger under his collar, hoping to loosen it a bit. He wasn't sure what to do, but he really wanted a drink, so he took it. Harvey felt the glass for strings or wires. Nothing. He sniffed the contents. Just plain water. So he drank it.
"Thank you?" he said, not knowing who or what he was talking to. This house had been strange from the get go. But it was what Gladys wanted, and to be fair, the price had been right. Renting seaside houses for a wedding this size was usually a five to ten thousand dollar price point. Getting this place for two grand was a bargain. They read somewhere that it was haunted, but neither of them had taken that seriously. Gladys's response to that bit of information was "Does that mean I have to plan for fifty-one guests?"
Harvey held the glass in both his hands and asked aloud in a shaky voice, "Have you ever been married?"
The Captain couldn't help himself. He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh a great booming guffaw at the very notion.
Harvey looked around, trying to discern the source of the laughter, but he saw no one. Strangely, the sound didn't come from just one place, it came from everywhere, all at the same time.
The sitting-room door opened just enough for a head to pop out. "Who's out here?" Claymore Gregg demanded.
"It's just me, Harvey," Harvey waved at him weakly. The laughter stopped.
Claymore stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind him. "I thought I heard someone. I mean, I thought I heard someone laughing." Claymore looked around suspiciously.
"You heard it too?" Harvey's face relaxed in relief. "I thought maybe all the wedding stress was getting to me."
"If you hear any voices, do not engage! Do you hear me? Do not engage!" Claymore instructed.
The Captain couldn't let that go by. He lifted Claymore's fake captain's hat from his head and held it just out of reach.
"Give that back!" Claymore snatched at the cap, which danced in the air.
"I thought you said not to engage," Harvey reminded him.
"You don't engage. I have experience with this–" Claymore stopped before he said anything that might anger The Captain. "This trickster!" He leaped and grabbed. Claymore caught the cap in midair.
"Do you think it's bad luck to get married in a haunted house?" Harvey scratched his head.
"If you ask me, I think it's ill advised to marry at all," said The Captain's voice.
Harvey and Claymore looked at each other. "You heard that?" Harvey checked.
Claymore nodded furiously while gulping down a lump of fear that had collected in his throat.
"You, y, you, you, you…need to be ni, ni, nice!" Claymore said, poking a finger around in the air. "And l, l, let this young couple do their thing."
"I will not interfere, but I think you should ask yourself why that blasted wedding march sounds so much like a funeral dirge," The Captain said mischievously.
"Ba, ba, ba bum, ba ba ba bum…" Harvey sounded it out. "Hey, you're right!"
"Everything sounds like a dirge to you because you're dead!" Claymore waved the cap in the air.
"I dare you to make Yankee Doodle sound anything but cheerful," The Captain challenged.
"Can you see him?" Harvey asked, jabbing a finger in The Captain's direction.
"No, I mean yes. Sometimes." Claymore put the cap on his head firmly.
"I think I need another one of these," Harvey said, holding up the glass.
"Ah, ah, ah, young man, I understand that you're nervous, but drinking isn't the answer." Claymore placed his hand over his heart.
"Relax Claymore, it's only water," The Captain said, taking the glass.
"Well, too much of that might be a bad idea, too. I mean, you don't want to be halfway through your vows and have to stop the ceremony so you can run to the bathroom," Claymore pointed out.
A loud sigh shook the foyer. "It doesn't happen often, but it's confoundingly irritating when you make sense!" The Captain scoffed.
"You're right, Gladys would never forgive me," Harvey said with a sad nod.
The Captain, sensing what was to come, sailed into the kitchen.
Claymore straightened his tie, smug from the backhanded compliment.
Harvey's face lit up at the sight of his three groom's men at the front door. "Saved by the bell!"
In her room, Carolyn sighed. She hadn't heard The Captain's part of the foyer discussion, but she definitely heard the voices of the young men who came to support Harvey on this momentous day.
"I supposed there's going to be a continuous stream of people from here on out." She arranged a last wave of hair and rose to meet the guests. Hopefully, everyone would be too busy for anything to go wrong.
XXX
Harvey could have used more handkerchiefs. Gladys kept breaking out into tears of joy at every juncture and transition in the ceremony.
She had a minor breakdown just before the ceremony when the ring bearer's pillow was nowhere to be found. Jonathan solved the problem by suggesting that he carry the rings on the flat top of his captain's hat.
Candy was so excited that when she proceeded up the narrow aisle, she frisked rather than marched. She gave a bow to the "audience" when she reached the front.
Martha played the wedding march slowly so there was plenty of time to ooh, ahh and take photos as the bride made her grand entrance.
Harvey was so overcome that he exclaimed aloud, "Oh wow, Gladys, look at you!" causing everyone to laugh.
Despite promising herself she wouldn't cry, Carolyn's eyes dampened as she watched Gladys enter the sitting room, and again, when she saw Harvey's face transform into an expression of wonder upon seeing his bride.
Tears welled again when the couple exchanged their vows. Even Gladys's father pulled out a large handkerchief and blew his nose.
Claymore made a distinguished officiant. He was respectful and solemn as he led the service.
"Do you Harvey Dilman, take Gladys Zimmerman to be your lawful wedded wife, letting her love be your compass that you may always set course together and share the helm in both calm and stormy seas?"
"You bet I do!" Harvey exclaimed.
"And do you, Gladys Zimmerman, take Harvey Dilman to be your lawful wedded husband, no matter what storms may blow? Do you vow to raise a crew together, and teach them to both work and be merry in turn? And will you strive to be his lighthouse to guide him home in the dark of night or under cover of fog?"
Gladys nodded her head vigorously, but Claymore reminded her that she needed to say the words.
"I do." She got the words out, then looked back at her parents and shot them a teary smile. "I do," she repeated more forcefully.
Claymore motioned for Jonathan to come forward.
"I bless these rings with the power to anchor these young lovers forever to each other."
The couple exchanged rings, both wearing goofy, excited smiles, and practically vibrating with happiness.
"I now pronounce you man and wife. As you set sail together, may the love and support of your family and friends provide safe harbor, and may the bounty of the sea ever be yours."
"You may seal your promise with a kiss."
Carolyn realized that this was the first time she'd seen the couple touch, let alone kiss.
It was an awkward kiss, with each of them leaning in with their bodies far apart. As their lips met, Gladys scooted closer to Harvey, and he put his hands on her cheeks. So they at last had a kiss worthy of sealing the deal.
Martha broke into the recessional Wedding March, but once the bride and groom exited the sitting room, she switched to the "Love Boat" theme in keeping with the nautical decor.
Candy skipped out behind the couple, followed by the bride's maids and groom's men, and they all spilled out onto the front lawn for another round of photos.
The catering staff was busy in the kitchen preparing glasses of champagne and sandwiches.
"That was lovely. You did a wonderful job," Carolyn complimented Claymore, who was still standing at his place at the head of the room, watching everyone exit.
"Thank you. Usually when I'm called upon for a wedding, it's a more slapdash affair. You know, an elopement, or some thrown together marriage of convenience. It's kind of nice to be part of something substantial," he admitted.
Martha took down the sheet music and replaced it with a book of "50 best Pop Love Songs" that was at least three decades old. "In case people want to dance later," she said with a shrug.
"Is there anything those hands can't do?" Claymore asked, having heard that she had made the pies.
"Yes, but far be it from me to tell you what that is." She shot a dismissive look at him. "I think I'm going to get myself some of that champagne!" Martha excused herself.
Claymore let his eyes rove over the room, with its fresh paint, fresh paper, and bounteous decorations. "I never considered the feasibility of running this old place as a venue," he said slowly.
Carolyn could almost see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes.
"Oh no, you don't!" she reprimanded him. "I have a lease and this is the first, last and only wedding at Gull Cottage!"
"She's quite right Claymore. I was a bachelor my entire life and I've had enough matrimony this week to last me several eternities!" Captain Gregg's voice boomed in both Carolyn's and Claymore's ears.
"Oh, I know that. There's no way old Barnacle Bill here would put up with it, but there are several cottages down the road…" Claymore thought aloud.
"I think I've been remarkably cooperative!" The Captain took umbrage.
"You have Captain, more than any of us had any right to expect." Carolyn tried to smooth his feathers.
"Cross my heart and hope to die. If I buy another cottage and it has a resident ghost—I don't know what I'll do." Claymore gazed up at the ceiling as if he was hoping for some help from heaven itself.
Jonathan came in, a pale orange mustache on his face from the punch he'd been drinking. He was tossing life saver candies up with one hand and catching them in his cap.
"We need to make sure that the photographers get a picture of the two of you together in your uniforms," Carolyn instructed.
"Two?" The Captain's voice sounded as if he was still taking umbrage.
"Well, since only two of you are visible." She shrugged. "I have an idea. They can take the photo in front of your portrait!"
"Claymore, catch!" Jonathan threw a lifesaver up into the air and Claymore caught it with his hat.
Carolyn believed it was ok if they all relaxed a little. Gladys wasn't likely to have any more meltdowns. What a difference 30 minutes could make!
XXX
Carolyn didn't understand how she'd ended up in the receiving line. She wasn't the hostess of the wedding; that honor and responsibility fell to Daisy Zimmerman. Carolyn wasn't even family. Jonathan had run off to play with another young boy, but Candy took her place in the receiving line, curtsying and shaking hands. When people asked who she was, she told them she was Candy Muir, as if that should settle it, not understanding that they wanted to know how she was related to the bride and groom.
Carolyn was certain that there had never been a more grateful and diligent member of a wedding party than Candy.
It was a good thing that lunch was finger sandwiches; it left people with plenty of room for pie and ice cream. Everyone agreed it was the best wedding dessert ever. Every crumb of every pie disappeared, save the one slice that Martha held back for the bride and groom to freeze and eat on their first anniversary.
Several people asked Martha if she took orders and if she shipped pies. She kept saying no, no, no, but eventually started saying maybe. It seemed more like a viable option the more people brought it up. Her back didn't like the idea; the counters at Gull Cottage were shorter than standard, but she and Claymore had already discussed getting them heightened. With counters of the right height and orthopedic shoes, making pies could be part of this chapter of her life.
Angela Hocking was licking the back of her spoon and declaring Martha to be a marvel, a legitimate marvel, when she suddenly jumped to her feet. "I need to collect the wedding party. The light in the sitting room is perfect!"
Jonathan, who had also been sitting at the kitchen table having pie and milk, frowned. He had already taken off his sweater and replaced his long pants with shorts. He did not want to get dressed up again for yet another round of photos.
What he wanted was to take his new friend Oliver to the beach, but he understood the grownups were busy. Oliver lived someplace far away from the ocean and Jonathan wanted to show him tide pools and help him find shark's teeth. Oliver was wearing a suit with short pants and suspenders. But even with the short pants, it didn't look like the silly suit that the original ring bearer was supposed to wear.
Scruffy didn't care for crowds; he stayed out of the way by hiding under the house. He poked his head out long enough to steal a few sandwiches off the plates that careless guests had left sitting around.
Gladys had not cried once since becoming Harvey's wife. It might have been because she'd been too busy. Or it might have been that Claymore Gregg had mystical powers that could alter people's personalities, along with their marital status, just by uttering a few words.
Jonathan had never seen a wedding before, and he'd never much thought about how people went from being single to being stuck with each other for good. It had just been one of those grown-up things that hadn't been interesting enough to even ask about.
He'd never really believed in magic words and formulas before, but now he'd seen it with his own eyes. He knew Mr Gregg was in charge of a lot of important stuff, especially things that took place in Gull Cottage, but this was the most important of all.
Maybe it was because he owned the house, and if Gladys and Harvey got married at his grandparents' house, Grandpa Williams would have said the magic words. He'd have to ask his mother about it.
Meanwhile, he finished his milk and slowly slipped under the kitchen table where Angela wouldn't see him and make him dress up again. He knew if his mother or Martha called him, he would have to go, but no one else had the authority to tell him what to do.
….
"Martha, that pie was magnificent!" Claymore complimented, kissing his fingertips to show how much he had enjoyed it.
"Well, I guess everyone brought out their best today," Martha said, smiling.
"And got paid rather handsomely, too!" Claymore patted his breast pocket and snickered.
Martha looked around the kitchen and sighed. She had been paid well for the pies, but the cleanup was going to take hours and lots of elbow grease.
Her fears were put to rest when Daisy approached her to coordinate the time the cleaners should arrive on Monday. Martha guessed the family could put up with the mess until then. She'd be spending Sunday afternoon at the Church event, anyway.
She smiled and shook her head when Daisy moved on to the next task on her list. "It's like the Cat in the Hat book I've read to the children so many times. The cat shows up and creates havoc, but in the end he comes back and cleans it all up."
It was then that Jonathan heard his mother calling him.
"Blast!" he said from his hiding place, wishing he'd spilled something on his pants, sweater and jacket so she couldn't make him put them on again. He knew better than to try to stay hidden. His mother wasn't someone you messed with.
He crawled out from under the table on his hands and knees just as she walked into the kitchen.
"What are you doing under there?" She didn't sound angry, just puzzled.
"Looking for Scruffy?" he tried.
"They want us for pictures!" She held out her hand.
He stood up, and looked down at what he was wearing, and then up at his mother.
"Just get your jacket and your hat," she told him, seeming to understand his dread at dressing up again.
A grin spread over his face and he hugged her hard around the waist before rushing off to do as he was told.
He didn't understand how a 30 minute wedding ceremony could require the hours' worth of photographs that had been taken this and the previous days. He wished he'd known this when he'd discussed taking part in the wedding with Martha. If he had known it meant so many pictures, he might have decided he didn't want to be that kind.
"Hurry up!" Candy called to him from the bottom of the stairs when she realized where he was.
"I'm coming as fast as I can. Why do they need so many pictures anyways?" he complained as he clomped down the steps.
Candy's hair bow was crooked and sliding off the side of her head. There were grass stains on the skirt of her dress from where she'd played on the lawn. Her sash had come undone, and there were a lot of wilted weeds and flowers hanging out of her basket.
She had been holding his hat, which she now plopped crookedly onto his head. He guessed either his mom would fix it or she wouldn't, but he wasn't going to worry about it. He was pretty certain that Candy had no idea what she looked like.
The wedding photographer and Angela Hocking were in the sitting room arguing about where to pose the photos. The wedding photographer wanted to pose them against the wall with the new wallpaper. Angela wanted them in front of the fireplace with the portrait of Captain Gregg in the picture.
They were arguing because they both wanted to take advantage of the light, which they were losing the longer they sparred.
Martha sat down at the piano and began to play and sing loudly from the love song book. "Love, love, will keep us together. Think of me, boy whenever, some sweet talking girl comes along, singing her song…"
The arguing stopped. Martha stopped playing. The arguing began and Martha played and sang even louder than before. "Don't mess around, you just got to be strong. Just stop!"
"When did getting married become such a loud affair?" The Captain's voice sounded above the din in Carolyn's ear. "I seem to recall it being a good deal more subdued, at least until the drinking and dancing began," he complained.
Carolyn merely shrugged and placed her hands over her ears. Surprisingly, it was Claymore who ended the argument by placing two fingers in his mouth and sounding a piercing whistle.
"May I remind you," he began once he had garnered everyone's attention. "That we are STILL gathered here today to honor a sacred tradition as old as civilization itself!"
"Why listen to Claymore! I didn't know he had it in him," The Captain marveled.
Carolyn wondered how she could hear him just as easily with her ears covered as not.
Out of habit, she looked around to see if she could catch sight of The Captain, but he remained invisible. Then she glanced up at his portrait and noticed that not only did the eyes appear more animated than usual, but the face looked 3 dimensional.
"It's important to keep the energy positive if our beloved couple is to have the most auspicious beginning to their married life," Claymore continued. "Now, we will begin by taking the photo here." He pointed to the wall beside the piano, and without dissent, people shuffled into place.
Carolyn checked the portrait. The Captain was rubbing his hands together in delight. Jonathan pointed and giggled, but his mother put her finger to her lips to shush him.
Everyone lined up, and the photographers took their shots. The Captain was watching from his place above the mantle with his arms crossed over his chest.
The group reassembled in front of the fireplace. Carolyn watched as The Captain lifted one hand and held it over the bride and groom as if he was giving them his blessing. She stifled a giggle, because it looked like he was making bunny ears over them. She knew that The Captain wasn't familiar with that silly joke. In his day, the average person never had their picture taken, and certainly didn't own a camera.
Speaking of–she pulled out her phone and switched the camera on. She may as well get a few photos for herself. Claymore and Jonathan were being posed for a photo. The photographer had Jonathan stand on a stool to bring him level with Claymore's shoulder. The two looked very smart beside one another in their faux captain's outfits.
She zoomed in to get a picture of just the two of them, but suddenly it wasn't just the two of them. There was a third man standing beside Jonathan. He wasn't as tall as Claymore, but his shoulders, clad in a navy blue wool jacket, were broad and straight. His smile was subtle, his eyes were twinkling and intelligent.
She didn't recall seeing anyone who resembled him among the wedding guests. Her finger took the shot automatically, then she lowered the camera and looked again. The man wasn't there. She looked at the portrait. The Captain still had his arms crossed and was drumming his fingers impatiently.
She lifted her phone and took a picture of the portrait, but when she viewed it on her phone, the portrait was as it had always been—the Captain in his same pose with the same angry sea behind him.
Sighing, she focused the camera on Claymore and Jonathan. This time Candy stood in front of Jonathan. It was a lovely shot, but Carolyn could tell that Candy's energy was flagging, and that she had had her fill of wedding for the day.
Candy wandered to the window seat, took her shoes off and let them drop to the floor.
Carolyn took another picture of the wedding party, then stepped back to get a shot with everyone in it. She was just about to take the photo when she noticed the man standing beside Jonathan. She let her arm fall. There was no mistaking it; it was Captain Daniel Gregg himself, looking as solid and real as any other man in that room.
Carolyn couldn't help but startle, not only because she had never seen him as more than a pixelated shadow, but because he was arrestingly handsome. He appeared much younger than she had imagined him to be based on his portrait; his hair and beard were only touched with gray, not grizzled with it.
Their eyes met, and he smiled at her, not a sarcastic smirk or self-satisfied grin, but an open, warm smile—as if he was happy to meet her at last. He gave her an impish wink and made a motion with his hand, signaling her to go on and take her photo.
That was easier said than done; her hands were shaking, and her eyes were welling with foolish tears. She didn't know why she was reacting this way. They'd lived together for several weeks. She'd wanted to see him, she'd requested it. She wasn't afraid of his being a ghost, so why did she tremble?
But tremor or no tremor, she took the rest of her photos, including one where The Captain had one hand on Claymore's shoulder and the other on Jonathan's. Carolyn did not know if Captain Gregg would still be in the photos when she looked at them later. What mattered most was that she'd seen him!
"You do like to make an entrance," she said under her breath.
"Why of course, Madam. A man in my position has to carry himself in such a manner as to inspire men to face the danger of the open seas. There is no use in entering a room if one cannot take charge of the room." His lips were moving, and though he was several feet away, his voice sounded close.
The photographer shuffled people around one last time and Captain Gregg retreated to his portrait, where he pulled a few faces and made a few humorous gestures to the amusement of Carolyn and Jonathan. His actions were teasing, but not cruel, and they certainly were apt. Whomever his target was, his assessment of them was spot on.
Candy was dozing in the window seat, and Carolyn wondered how she would get her up the stairs. Unexpectedly, Claymore offered to carry her up. Carolyn recalled Candy saying that he was nearly like family. She still wasn't ready to go that far, but when it didn't cost him money, Claymore could be quite the team player.
Carolyn was smiling as she followed them up the stairs until she heard Candy say in a sleepy voice, "Thank you, Daddy. I'm so tired."
Carolyn wanted to shake her daughter awake and rebuke her scolding "He is not your father! No one will ever be your father. Do you hear me?"
But that would be cruel. Candy was lost in a hazy dream, in which her father had returned to her. Where she felt safe in his arms. There was no good reason for Carolyn to take that from her. Candy would awake in the morning, fatherless once again. In this moment, she deserved to enjoy her dream.
Carolyn opened the door to the children's room and pointed to her bed, where Claymore laid her down. Once he left, Carolyn would get Candy changed and bring her to use the bathroom. Now she had to gather her wits and thank the man for his help, no matter what wound it had opened up.
"That was very kind of you," she said. She simply couldn't force 'thank you' from her lips.
Claymore nodded and gave an awkward little bow. "I think I'll be leaving now, and I'm sorry about the double booking, but it seemed to work out."
"You're sure this won't happen again?"
"Cross my heart and hope to be sued for breach of contract," he promised, making an X over his chest.
Carolyn sat on the edge of her daughter's bed and studied her face. Expressions passed over it as she dreamed. Smiles, furrowed brows, and even one hint of a giggle. The wedding had been a positive experience for the children and Martha. The Captain? It was good for him too.
Carolyn felt tender and melancholy. She was sorry that Robert wasn't here, but when she looked at Candy, she knew he was there. Not only in Candy's dream, but in Candy herself, who was so very much like her father.
Ironically, Robert could never have been here, because if he were alive, she would never have come to Gull Cottage. She would never have moved here, never fought with Claymore over the hideous wallpaper. She wouldn't have met Gladys or Harvey, and she probably wouldn't have resurrected her writing career.
It was the first time she fully realized that despite how great a loss his death was, there was an entire life she would have missed if he were still alive. Instead of helping host a wedding, she would more likely be hosting cocktails for his colleagues.
Martha would be doing the shopping, cooking, and cleaning, but she wouldn't be playing piano, selling pies and teaching Scruffy new tricks.
Carolyn felt like a traitor to admit it, even silently to herself, but she liked their life here. She was glad they weren't in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. She was happy to be working again, even though things were still uncertain.
And she was excited about what life held in store for all of them. She thought of all the platitudes people had tried to comfort her with upon the death of her husband. Things have a way of working out. Everything happens for a reason. It's hard now, but you're young…They had made her so angry.
She had wanted to stomp her foot and spit and snarl, "What do you know?" but they had known something after all. She had been the naïve one, and she had wanted to stay that way. But that wasn't her story. This was her story, the one she was writing now.
XXX
