At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(84)

The sewing room was at the end of the hall, to the right of the door that led out to the garden. Shouts of female laughter spilled into the hallway. Gracie felt a sharp pang of envy that Laquita had been lucky enough to be part of such a happy family. When she was a little girl she used to wish she could be part of Laquita's family, just sneak into the little house by the river and blend right in with the crowd. Ben was a lucky man. No more lonely Christmases, no more New Year's Eves spent with a bottle of Scotch and a handful of memories. The Adams clan would see to that.

"Well, there you are!" Rachel Adams leaped to her feet to greet them. "We were wondering if the two of you had forgotten about us."

"You knew I had to work," Laquita said with the weary sound of affectionate exasperation Gracie had heard in the voices of countless other daughters over the years. "We didn't even stop for supper."

"Of course you didn't," Rachel said, enveloping her oldest child in a big hug. "You knew I was making chili for everybody."

Gracie stood in the doorway, feeling awkward and jealous and all points in between. The room was a jumble of midnight blue satin, ivory lace, a large black sewing machine near the window, tea cups, platters of cookies, and more adorable young women than you would find on the pages of Seventeen Magazine. They all looked like variations on Laquita with long shiny dark hair and deep brown eyes and lush figures.

Rachel stepped away from her daughter and opened her arms wide. "Gracie Taylor!" she exclaimed. "Welcome to the family."

So many familiar names attached now to almost grown-up bodies. Even Storm, the baby, looked like a young woman now and not a little girl.

"I feel so old," Gracie said with a laugh as they all trooped into the kitchen for bowls of chili and homemade bread. "What happened to all the little kids I remember?"

"They grew up," Rachel said with a shake of her head. "Sometimes I think that's why I had so many of them. I was hoping one of them would stay little for me."

For a moment Gracie understood. How hard if must be to watch your child grow up and move away from your circle of protection. Still, if appearances were any indication, Rachel and Darnell had done a great job with their kids. She asked about the boys—Morocco, Sage, and Joe—and wasn't surprised at all to hear they were in college and doing well. They were expected home any minute for Thanksgiving Day weekend.

"Laquita was our wild child," Rachel said, casting a fondly bemused glance at her eldest daughter. "Sometimes I think we asked too much of her and that's why she needed to rebel."

Laquita, who was about to bring a spoonful of chili up to her mouth, groaned. "Like Gracie really wants to talk about that," she said. "Helloooo, Rachel. I'm about to marry her father, remember?"

"This is a small town," Rachel reminded her daughter. "We don't have any secrets. Besides, I'm just commenting on how well you turned your life around."

Giggles erupted from the knot of teenage sisters at the far end of the table. Gracie's heart sank.

"I love the Gazette," the one named Cleo piped up, her lovely dark eyes dancing with mischief.

"Me too," said Vienna, her twin. "Especially that new column..."

They convulsed in laughter that garnered a sharp look from their mother.

"Quiet," said Rachel in a tone Gracie could only describe as maternal warning mode. "I'm sure Gracie has been teased quite enough about Noah's column."

Gracie couldn't help it. She groaned then rested her forehead on the tabletop. "Why does everyone think he's writing about me?"

The explosion of laughter from all quarters was answer enough but Cheyenne couldn't help adding a postscript. "You two are legendary around here," she said over Laquita's protests. "I mean, you both disappear on the same day a million years ago and you give Old Eb a million dollars and Noah goes off to Paris and you're a famous doctor in Manhattan and then boom! You're both home again for the wedding and Noah's carrying you through the rain..." She sighed melodramatically. "I mean, it's only the most romantic thing anybody's ever seen around here."

"Don Hasty and Joann told Sage that you two used to meet on the beach by the lighthouse every night during the summer. They could see you from Hidden Island." Storm seemed proud of her contribution to the legend. Gracie must have looked shocked because Storm quickly added, "But only when they used their binoculars."