An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(48)

“Maybe Ida got after the Blanchards’ kids,” Emma suggested. “Maybe that’s why they’re leaving.”

“More likely Peter—that’s the husband—got transferred somewhere,” Liddy said. “You don’t just pack up and leave a house you’ve spent lots of money to renovate unless you have a damned good reason.”

“Ida sounded like a good enough reason to me.” Emma wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then stood. “I hate to leave before you, but I promised Marian I wouldn’t be long. Since the showing, we’ve had endless calls from people wanting to know how much longer the collection would be available for viewing and when we’re open.” She patted Liddy on the shoulder. “If you decide to sell any of Jess’s paintings, you’re going to clean up. I’ve had offers for every single canvas. The numbers are eye-popping.”

“I’m still thinking about it. But thanks, Em.”

“You take your time. There’s no hurry. We can keep them here as long as you like.” Emma leaned over to kiss Maggie on the cheek. “Safe trip, Mags. Keep in touch.”

“Will do.” Maggie stood to hug her friend. “I’ll be back sometime in the spring.”

“Glad we’re seeing more of you. We miss you when you’re not around.” To Liddy, Emma said, “I’ll let myself out.” She was halfway to the front door when she called back to the kitchen. “Maggie, you ought to think about buying your mom’s house.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Wyndham Beach, her life was in Bryn Mawr, wasn’t it? Her kids were there, the home she’d shared with Art was there.

“Emma’s right, you know,” Liddy said after they heard the front door open, then close.

“You’re glad to see more of me, too?”

“Smart-ass. No. Well, yes, I am, but you should at least look at your mom’s house.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Idle curiosity if nothing else. Don’t you want to see the renovations?”

“I kind of liked the house the way it was. Besides, even if I was interested—which I’m not—I’m leaving as soon as I finish this danish.” Maggie held up the last bite. “So there’s really no time.”

“You could make time.”

“Liddy.”

“Okay.” Liddy held up both hands in surrender. “I won’t bring it up again.”

And Liddy hadn’t. Still, Maggie found herself turning onto Cottage Street on her way out of town, though technically it was out of her way. She just wanted to see the house one more time before she went home. She parked across the street and took it in, its innate hominess, its weathered cedar siding, long since grayed by the salt air. Even in the chill of a late January morning, the shrubs and trees deep in hibernation, it was still beautiful, and deep in her heart of hearts, it was still home.

She wondered who would end up buying it and living in the rooms where she’d grown up.

On a whim, she wrote down the name and number of the Realtor, then sat for a few more minutes, thinking about the years she’d spent under that roof, the happy years when her sister was still alive, and before her parents’ divorce. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She’d already decided she was going to stop at the pastry shop to pick up some goodies to take home to share with Natalie and Daisy, who’d spent the weekend at her house to enjoy her wide-screen TV and the story hour at the Bryn Mawr Library.

She’d not been completely honest with Liddy or Emma. The truth was Maggie was dying to see inside the house. She’d wondered about the renovations and couldn’t deny her curiosity. This could be her one and only chance to check it out. She took her phone from her bag and dialed the number, which went to voice mail.

“Hello, Ms. Brock, my name is Maggie Flynn. I’m in Wyndham Beach for a very limited time this morning, but if at all possible, I’d love to view your listing on Cottage Street. You can call me back at this number if you’re available to show the property. Otherwise, perhaps it will still be on the market the next time I’m in town.” Maggie ended the call and tucked the phone into her coat pocket.

There. If it’s meant to be, I’ll hear from her before I leave. Otherwise—not meant to be.

She turned the car around in the parking lot next to the beach and headed toward town and the bakery. She was almost to Front Street when her phone rang.

She pulled it out of her pocket. “This is Maggie.”

“Ms. Flynn, this is Barbara Brock, Brock Realtors, returning your call about the house on Cottage in Wyndham Beach.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you for returning my call.”

“I’d love to show you the property. It’s one of a kind, really. One of the oldest homes in town, built by one of the town’s oldest families. Continuously family owned, by the way, until eight years ago.” The Realtor paused. “Are you familiar with the town?”

“Yes. I was born here,” Maggie told her.

“Well, if you’re still interested in a quick walk-through, I’m on my way to the house now.”

“I can be there in three minutes.”

Maggie pulled into the driveway of the old Wakefield house, got out of the car, and walked along the once-familiar brick walk to the front porch. Up the well-worn steps to the refinished door. She was about to knock when a pleasant-looking woman around her age opened the door.