It took a few moments for Iris’ mind to focus on the words. “You’re coming to Seaside?” she asked. Her heart swelled with happiness.
“Yes. On Friday. I have some extra vacation time and decided to drive down to the coast. Seattle is a scorcher.”
“Yes, of course,” Iris responded. “It’s much cooler here.” She was having trouble breathing.
The sound of Scott’s voice did that.
“How is Elizabeth?”
Iris paused. “She’s fine, Scott. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
“I can’t wait to see her.” Elizabeth was the real reason he was coming to the coast, of course. Iris knew he wasn’t coming to see her. But it didn’t matter. He was coming.
She hesitated. “How is your mother?” It was the polite thing to do. To ask about his mother. A tabby jumped up onto her lap with one easy spring of his hind legs.
“Mom is fine. You know her, hobbling around on that broken leg. She said she hasn’t heard from you for ages. You haven’t answered her e-mails.”
Scott spoke as though he wasn’t aware of the fact his mother and aunt were estranged. He didn’t know, of course.
Iris didn’t know Laura had broken her leg. She knew nothing about her sister’s daily life. Nor did she need to. The one thing she did know was that Laura had become a monster to her, and ultimately the two sisters had become strangers. It was a long time ago, yet she was reminded of it every day.
“No. I’ve been terribly busy,” Iris told the young man.
“That’s what I told Mom. ‘It’s summer.’ ”
Yes, Iris thought. It was summer and her garden needed her; it was the only thing needing her these days.
“Well, I’ll see you Friday,” Scott said. “Oh, and don’t tell Elizabeth I’m coming, Aunt Iris. I want to surprise her.”
“You can trust me to keep a secret.” Iris told him. Keeping secrets was what she did best, wasn’t it? Secrets. Lies. Perhaps for the rest of her life.
“I’ll have the guest room ready for you, my dear.”
“Thanks. I love you, Aunt Iris. See you soon.” The telephone suddenly went dead. The cat jumped off her lap.
“I love you, too,” Iris spoke into the empty receiver. There was no one to hear her words, though it didn’t matter. She just needed to say them.
Scott was so alive, so filled with energy. This beautiful young man had always been a light in her otherwise lonely and tortured life. He was coming at the end of the week. And thank God he wasn’t bringing his mother with him.
With uneven steps, she made her way back through the house and out to where her garden waited. The blooms waved to her in the warm morning breeze, greeting her, bobbing their heads in their singsong way. It was truly music to her.
Iris began to water the impatiens, pansies, and deep green-striped hostas. She must hurry now with her tasks, she realized. Soon she would be meeting the ladies for lunch at Annie Rose’s. How could Tuesdays come around so quickly?
Molly
Homer Dickens built The Gull Cottage Motel in 1937. It stood at the corner of Avenue U and Beach Drive at the end of South Prom. From the outside, the appearance of the cabins hadn’t changed in seventy-five years. Gray weathered shakes and sea-blue shutters and doors still dressed the six cottages. However, the insides had seen many changes. Somewhat updated in 1970 and again in 1989 by previous owners, the cottages had become a hodgepodge of colors and styles. It wasn’t until recently that Molly and Augie, her husband, bought the motel and brought it back to its original charm.
As the new owners, they worked hard stripping and painting. They refurbished the claw foot tubs and installed new plumbing throughout the motel. The old pine floors were sanded and lacquered, and new casement windows were set into place. Molly enjoyed working alongside her husband. It was the first time in their four-year marriage that they had joined forces for a common good. They’d never been able to work together. Not really. Molly knew before they got married that Augie had an issue with women. He didn’t trust them. But, she loved him and believed he loved her.
Augie continued to help Molly rebuild The Gull Cottage Motel. He planted colorful flowers out front, and kept the green shrubbery well maintained and trimmed ... until eight months ago.
It was on a warm, sunny morning while Molly was registering an elderly couple, that the police suddenly appeared. Flashing their badges, they hauled Augie away in handcuffs. Molly’s world came crashing down around her.
Augie was found guilty of embezzling money from his boss, and sentenced to eighteen months in prison. Soon after, Molly discovered she was pregnant. She was a twenty-five year old woman left alone to run the motel and raise a baby. Could she manage? She had to.
As if that were not enough, Molly was now being harassed by Augie’s former coworker, Leno Stevens. Without her knowledge, Augie had borrowed thousands of dollars from Leno. When Leno heard of Augie’s incarceration, he panicked. He was desperate. He had a family to feed. He wrote Augie demanding immediate repayment. Augie responded assuring Leno that Molly would repay the loan. He explained that she owned a motel, or if need be, she could get money from her mother, who was a best-selling author. He told Leno that the two women were rolling in dough. If Leno stalked Augie’s wife, frightened her out of her wits, she would surely come up with the money sooner. Leno began to make late night calls to Molly demanding his money. And during one of those calls, Leno let it slip that Augie was behind the threats.
“Hey, you got money,” he told her. “Augie said so. He said you or your mother would pay me back.”
Of course, she didn’t have the money. And she wouldn’t get her mother involved with this mess. Molly knew Augie was just stalling. He hoped that by her repaying Leno, the money would appease him, and keep him off Augie’s back. Of course, she wasn’t about to pay him, but the calls continued.
Eight months had now passed since Augie had gone to prison, and Molly hadn’t heard from him. Molly and Augie’s baby, Hope Amelia Bradford, was the one shining light which came out of this ordeal. She was the reason Molly got up every morning and steeled herself with courage. Every day brought a new struggle, such as when the water heater went out in cottage number five, and when the man in cottage number six arrived drunk one night, throwing beer bottles at the cottages. But Molly was young and resilient. A survivor. And she had no other choice but to make this life of hers work.
Hope Amelia was two months old, and she and Molly were doing just fine. Standing behind the green Formica-topped counter in the motel office, Molly could hear the baby cooing in the back room. She thought about how far she’d come these past eight months. She was a successful business owner, and a proud and loving mother. Her cobalt eyes shown brightly. Yes, she was doing just fine ... as long as her friends didn’t pry. And why should they? They never really talked to one another.
In two hours, Elizabeth, Tilly, Iris, and she would be sitting across the table from one another at Annie Rose’s. As friends. Not as friends. Another Tuesday. A day Molly Bradford had come to dread.
Bernard
People lived their lives at Annie Rose’s; I can testify to that. Just north of the cove, the small restaurant was nestled onto the corner of Beach Drive and Avenue U. It stood among older and newer motels turned condominiums, kitty-corner from The Gull Cottage Motel, and one block east of the Pacific Ocean.
From the beginning, Annie Rose’s had been a resounding success. The elegant and trendy eatery in Seaside’s quiet end of town was packed every day and into the night. Reservations were required. Patrons poured out their lives and hearts over