They had a real scare at the nursing home. When Karen Sanford went to open up the common room, she found glass al over the place, and she'd left it spick-and-span the night before. Obviously vandalism. So she cal ed Earl to come investigate. Turns out the vandals were a Yoo-Hoo bottle that had exploded and knocked over a tray of dishes!"
“It wil definitely makèPolice Brief," Pix said when she finished laughing. What a change from reading the news at home, she thought to herself. Sgt. Earl Dickinson was the one and only law-enforcement official on the island—and so far, the only one needed. It reminded her.
“Do you think Earl and Jil are going to get married?"
Jil Merriwether was the proprietress of a gift shop in Sanpere Vil age.
“It's certainly about time, but they seem to be content the way they are and so long as they both feel the same, it's fine"
“I know what you mean. If one or the other starts getting itchy for the altar, then there could be a problem. Stil , I don't know why they don't. It's nice being married." Pix had no regrets.
“Then, as you might imagine"—her mother continued to catch her up—"there's a lot of talk about the Athertons. I didn't want to say too much in front of Samantha, but their house is final y finished and everyone's cal ing it `the Mil ion-Dol ar Mansion,' which is quite likely close to the truth. I don't think there's a per son on Sanpere who doesn't know they have six bathrooms, three with bidets."
“The bidets may have taken some explaining.”
“True, but the gold-plated faucets didn't."
“Where did Jim get al his money? The fees at the sailing camp have always been pretty steep, yet nothing that would produce an income like this."
“His mother's father invented scouring pads or some such thing and money made money. Keeps on making it, if the house and those boats of Jim's are any indication."
“So they real y intend to live on the island year-round.
I'm not so sure I'd want to be here al winter. It gets pretty quiet." Pix thought of her constant round of activity in Aleford and realized with a start that she'd miss it if she moved.
“Your father and I considered living in The Pines when he retired, but when it came down to it, there were too many things and people we didn't want to leave.”
The two women paused in their conversation and looked out across the water at the sunset. They could see Samantha silhouetted against the horizon. The Pines had been built to take advantage of "the view." There was a large front porch and one extending off the second-floor bedrooms. It was an ark of a house, with rooms added to the rear as needed. By modern standards, it was dark. The windows were smal and the interior pine paneling old-fashioned. The only remodeling that had been done since it was built was to the indoor plumbing and the addition of a gas stove and other modern appliances in the kitchen. The old woodstove was stil used for heat and Gert kept it blackened, its chrome sparkling. Pix had seen a similar one for sale in an antiques shop for five hundred dol ars.
Her mother had been stunned.
The sun was a bal of fire, descending rapidly into thesea, leaving streaks of purple, pink, and orange as it fel that would have seemed garish in any other context. Flashy.
It brought Pix back to the Athertons. It wasn't that Valerie dressed in gaudy colors or was dripping with rhinestones.
Her jewels were real, especial y the large diamond solitaire Jim had given her as an engagement ring. It was that she dressed. She wore outfits. Blouses matched shirts and pants. Sweaters matched both. Her shoes matched her scarves, as did the polish on her perfectly manicured nails.
Pix's nails, clipped short, tended to suggest activities like weeding and clamming. Valerie's indicated pursuits like sunbathing and page turning.
“Let's see, the Athertons have been married for about three years, right? And they used to spend the winters in Virginia, where Valerie lived?"
“Yes, we al thought Jim was a confirmed bachelor. He met Valerie when he was sailing someplace in the Bahamas. It was just after her husband died so tragical y.”
Pix had heard the story. Valerie, Duncan, and Bernard Cowley were sailing when a sudden tropical storm hit, almost destroying the boat and sweeping Bernard overboard. Valerie had developed an understandable aversion to boats of any size or shape amounting to a phobia and refused to set foot on one. That her new husband ran a sailing camp was definitely ironic.
Pix looked over at her mother. She'd been widowed a long time. It was a prospect Pix kept firmly shoved way in the back of her mind. She sincerely hoped she and Sam would go at exactly the same moment.
“And what are you going to do with yourself while Samantha's busy making al this money?" Ursula asked.
“The usual—and maybe this year we'l tackle the attic.
Then remember, I'm overseeing the Fairchilds' new cottage."
“I'd almost forgotten about that. Seth Marshal is building it, isn't he?"
“Yes, and tomorrow I want to go over and see how much he's done since Memorial Day.”
Faith and Tom were building a modest house on a point of land not far from the Mil ers. The Fairchilds had hired Seth Marshal as the architect and contractor after seeing his work. It was a very simple plan, yet Faith had stil wanted Pix to keep an eye on the progress. Pix had steadfastly refused to accept any money for the job, insisting that having the Fairchilds as neighbors on Sanpere as wel as in Aleford was reward enough.
Besides, Pix argued, she was the one who had lured them to Sanpere in the first place, with somewhat startling results. But Faith had pressed hard. She knew the amount of time Pix would devote to the project, so final y they'd compromised on an amount. Pix grudgingly agreed, especial y when Faith threatened to bar her from the site if she wouldn't take the money.
It was the kind of thing Pix loved doing, and being paid for it seemed wrong. There was nothing more exciting than watching a new house go up. She loved al the smel s—
from the fresh concrete of the foundation to the fragrant fir of the framing. She'd miss out on the concrete. Seth would have poured the foundation long ago. They'd seen the gaping hole in May.
“It wil be nice to have the Fairchilds on the island," her mother remarked. "I'm not surprised they decided to settle here. Sanpere has a way of getting into one's blood"
“Just think. This is your eightieth summer on the island. We should make a banner to carry in the Fourth of July parade.”
Her mother sighed. "I've lived a very long time. Maybe even too long.”
Pix was used to this sort of remark, but her heart never failed to tighten. "Don't be sil y."
“Oh, I'm not sil y. I'l tel you what the funny thing is, though. Eighty years old and I stil feel twenty inside. It's al gone so fast.”
Pix stood up and cal ed Samantha to come in. Too fast. Much too fast.
The next morning proved to be another typical Maine day and Pix proposed to Samantha that they pack sandwiches and walk out to the Point to check what progress had been made at the Fairchilds' cottage. Her daughter agreed wholeheartedly. She was curious about the house, too.
“Show me the plans before we go, and let's take the dogs.”
Pix had assumed any walk they took would automatical y include the golden retrievers that she regarded as canine offshoots of the Mil er line: Dusty, Artie, and Henry.
“Of course we'l take the dogs." She leaned down to stroke Dusty. "Do you think you can keep up with us, old lady?" Dusty's muzzle was turning white and she no longer raced into the mud at low tide when one of the children threw a stick, her former favorite and extremely messy pastime.
It was close to ten o'clock by the time they set off, feeling vaguely wicked about skipping church.