Heritage Read online

  “Your grandfather made that.”

  A craftsman. “It’s nice.” A gallery of small photos adorned the wall behind it.

  “He made all the furniture from fallen trees right here on the island.”

  She glanced around. All the pieces were the same log and branch construction. The tones were warm and comforting. “They’re nice.” So different from her contemporary black lacquer furnishing at her apartment. But she would need to replace it all; Christopher wouldn’t like this style. Something art deco. Or maybe retro forties. Christopher might like that.

  She ran her hand over an end table next to the couch. She would keep a few pieces in the spare bedroom. Christopher wouldn’t mind that.

  She took off her beret and shook free her dark, mid-shoulder-length hair, swinging it back over her shoulder. She didn’t like wearing a hat, but it had been necessary on the windy ferry ride from Mackinaw City to the island. Time to thank her neighbor once again and send him on his way.

  When she turned, the words froze on her tongue. Will stood staring at her with his mouth slightly ajar. It was a challenge not to smile. She loved that reaction from people, and it always took her by surprise. But it gave her a sense of worth even if it was only for her looks. If you don’t have your looks, you don’t have anything.

  She held out her hand. “Thank you again for assisting me.”

  He shook it. “Uh-huh.” He snapped his jaw shut. “Sure. No problem. I’m glad to help.” He took a step back—right into the table by the door. “Oops.” He turned to steady a small lamp on it that hadn’t even been disturbed. “Sorry about that.”

  She had to smile then. She reached out for the door, but he reached faster and grabbed the knob. “I’ll get that.” He opened the door, but it stopped with a jerk against his boot. He looked down. “Big feet.” He chuckled.

  He managed to maneuver around the door and push open the screen door. He backed out and onto the porch. “If you need anything, just give me a call. I’m number five on the speed dial.” He continued to get closer to the porch steps.

  She point toward his feet. “Watch out for the steps.”

  As he looked down, his right foot slipped off the top step, and he stumbled down the rest.

  She sucked in a breath.

  He spun around but didn’t fall and held up his hands. “I’m all right. I’m okay.” He continued to walk backward toward the gate. “I’m fine.”

  She couldn’t bear to watch what might happen, so she gave a little wave and closed the door then rushed to the window to peek out the edge where he couldn’t see her. If he did injure himself, she wanted to be able to help.

  He trotted to the gate, put one hand on the post then kicked his legs up and over the fence. She breathed a sigh of relief. He stood a moment looking at her house before he headed down the street—not toward the house he said was his, but another destination.

  He was sweet and nice. It would be good to have him as a neighbor. Maybe he and Christopher would become friends.

  Unbuttoning her coat, she turned back to the room. Where to put it? There was no entry closet to hang it in. There was no entry, period, to speak of. Once inside the door you just sort of fell into the living room. No barriers. No proving your worth before being granted admittance. Welcomed from the start.

  Was she home at last? Had she found a place to belong?

  A coat rack made out of a polished branch stood next to the entry table. Wouldn’t that give Christopher fits. They could buy an armoire to replace the table. She hung her coat next to a leather one with beadwork and some fringe. She ran her hand down it. Her grandfather’s? Why couldn’t she have known about her grandfather before he died? There was so much she would like to have asked him.

  ❧

  Will flopped onto Garth and Lori’s couch. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Garth and Lori looked at each other, sharing a smile, and Lori giggled. Garth turned back to him. “I think after the way we met, it’s safe to say yes.”

  “Then I’m in love.”

  Lori sat in an overstuffed chair crocheting an afghan. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Rachel Coe.”

  “And who might she be?”

  “Dancing Turtle’s granddaughter.”

  “So she made it safely.” Lori stilled her hands and set her project in her lap.

  “I carried in her luggage. She has some similar features to Dancing Turtle. I could have picked her out of a crowd.”

  “Is she pretty?” Lori asked.

  “Gorgeous.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “What? Is there something wrong with her being beautiful?”

  “No. It’s fine.” She picked up her crocheting and focused on it.

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Tell me. I want to know.”

  Lori looked at Garth, who shrugged, then back to him. “I don’t want to poke my nose in where it’s not invited.”

  “I’m inviting you. Tell me what you think.”

  She set her work back in her lap. “It’s just so typically male. You see a pretty face and suddenly you are in love.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How long did you spend with her?”

  “Only a few minutes.”

  “So how can you know you are in love with her?”

  He struggled for words to explain it. There had been something there from that first moment. A connection when their eyes met. He had sensed that she had felt it, too. A bond that went beyond either of them. “There was a connection between us that had nothing to do with physical attraction.”

  “There is more to Rachel Coe than what you see on the outside. She is a whole person with both good and bad to deal with. Look beyond her face and discover who she is. Love goes way beyond the skin.”

  “I concede. Maybe I’m not actually in love with her—yet. But it is the road I want to go down. The road I’m going to go down.”

  Lori put her work in the basket next to her chair and stood. “In that case you should welcome her properly with a gift.”

  “What? Like flowers?”

  “I don’t think your relationship is to the flower stage yet.” She walked to the kitchen.

  He looked at Garth who shrugged. “I don’t know what she has in mind, but it’s probably good.”

  He and Garth both rose from the couch and went to the kitchen. Lori was digging around in the cupboard. She pulled out a box of crackers, two cans of soup—one tomato, the other, chicken noodle—a can of peaches, and a jar of salsa. “Honey, can you grab a couple of plastic grocery bags?”

  “Sure.” Garth pulled two out from the lower cupboard nearest him.

  Will watched, waiting for Lori to explain what she was up to. Curiosity got the better of him. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing?”

  “I’m making you a ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ offering.” She grabbed a bag of tortilla chips off the top of the refrigerator and a couple of apples from the basket on the counter. She began putting everything into the bags. “If she is going to be staying, she’ll need food. Won’t it be thoughtful of you to provide her with some so she doesn’t have to find the store and buy something before she gets a little settled.”

  He smiled and stood up straight. “How thoughtful of me.”

  “Exactly.” She pulled out a carton of eggs from the fridge and opened it. “There are five eggs in here. She can have those. I have another dozen in here.” She handed them to him to put in the bag then came back with a loaf of bread and a stick of butter. “That should help until she can get to the store.”

  He gazed at the bounty Lori had provided him. “Lori, you’re the best. Thanks.”

  Garth put his arm around his wife. “I think so.”

  She smiled. “Now go sweep her off her feet.”

  Will gathered the bags in one hand and headed off to Dancing Turtle’s—or rather Rachel’s. That would take some getting used to, but he w
as up to the challenge. He knocked on the door and waited. He raised his hand to knock again when she opened the door.

  Rachel’s mouth stretched into a smile. “You’re back. Did you forget something?”

  He held up the bags. “I brought food. Anything left here can’t be any good.”

  She pushed open the screen. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  He walked in and straight back to the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. He pulled the items out of the bag and named each one as he did. “That should tide you over until tomorrow.”

  “You really didn’t have to do this.”

  He ducked his head then looked her in the eyes, beautiful hazel eyes. Eyes he looked forward to getting lost in. “I must confess that it wasn’t my idea. Lori gathered all this from her cupboards and told me you could use it. But I thought it was a great idea.”

  “Is Lori your girlfriend?”

  “What?” How had she come to that conclusion? He didn’t want Rachel to think he was attached in any way. “No. She’s married to my friend Garth. I was just telling them you were here. I’m sure they’ll come over and introduce themselves soon.”

  “That will be nice.” She walked back to the front door and held it open for him. “Thank you again for bringing me food. I’ll be sure to thank Lori as well. . .when I meet her.”

  She wanted him to go. That was obvious. He walked slowly to the door. She was probably tired from her trip. “I can come by after work tomorrow and show you where the store is.”

  “I might go exploring in the morning, and if it’s not too far away, I’ll probably find it. But thanks for the offer.”

  He stepped outside. “If you need anything, I’m—”

  “Speed-dial five.” She smiled at him. “I’ll be fine.”

  He drank in her smile for a moment then left.

  ❧

  Rachel watched Will leave again. This time he went through the gate in the conventional way. He had seemed reluctant to leave. She didn’t want to be rude, but she needed to call Christopher and take a short nap before tackling the job of inventorying everything that needed to be done. There would be a lot, even for this little three-bedroom home. She would need to sort through closets and drawers and cupboards and completely clean out the entire house. Then decide which furniture to keep in the spare bedroom. It was all beautifully constructed. Would someone on the island want to buy it? Or better yet, she could give it to a charity. Yes, a charity, in her grandfather’s name.

  She would start in the main bedroom—no, the kitchen. She should do that right now. Get rid of any food that might be lingering.

  The first cupboard had a dozen or so cans of canned food. These should be fine. She pushed them around to see what was there. She pulled a couple out to throw away that she knew she wouldn’t ever eat—canned ravioli and spaghetti. The next cupboard had some old crackers and a bag of unopened potato chips. She occasionally rewarded herself with baked chips, so those would go along with the crackers. The other cupboards either had dishes or other nonfood items like a phone book and papers.

  The last cupboard had a handful of over-the-counter medications. She took them all out and found some bags under the sink and deposited everything she’d removed into them. There hadn’t been much to get rid of. Either her grandfather didn’t have much in the way of food, or someone had already cleaned things out. Will perhaps? She hoped if someone had been in here to clean that they hadn’t overlooked the refrigerator.

  She took a deep breath and held it before pulling open the door. The light came on, and the shelves were empty and seemed to have been wiped clean. The door held a few condiments and a jar of sweet pickles. She added it all to one of her trash bags. She put her two apples, eggs, and stick of butter on the shelf. She got a clean dishcloth out of a drawer and wiped out all the cupboards before putting the food Will had brought away and then wiped down the rest of the kitchen. She boiled a couple of eggs for a late dinner then found some clean sheets in a dresser drawer and remade the bed.

  She climbed into bed and snuggled down into the covers. She felt as though her grandfather were giving her a hug. Tomorrow she would do some more cleaning, but she most wanted to find out if she had any other relatives living here.

  Her eyes drifted closed, then she jerked them open. Christopher. She had completely forgotten to call him. She would do it first thing in the morning. It was too late now. He was an hour ahead of her. What would he say about this place? Would he like it? He had to like it. Now that she’d found her family, she wasn’t about to give any part of it up. She had to keep this house.

  Three

  The next morning, Rachel padded to the kitchen. She could sure use a nice hot latte. Her gaze stopped on the cupboard above the stove. She had missed that one last night. Could it possibly hold something to make a hot drink? Yes. A box of hot chocolate packets and two old, battered tins. She pulled them down and took off the lids. They both appeared to have fresh, loose tea in them. One smelled fruity, like blueberries. The other was definitely mint.

  She filled a teakettle with water and turned on the stove. So her grandfather made his own teas. She found a tea steeper ball and soon had a steaming cup of mint tea.

  In the bedroom she leafed through the shirts hanging in the closet. She hadn’t brought anything appropriate to do serious cleaning and sorting, so she chose a green and blue flannel shirt and wrapped it around herself. It was as though her grandfather were giving her another hug. If only she’d met him. She found a pair of drawstring sweatpants in one of the drawers and curled up on the couch, sipping her tea. She would call Christopher when she was done.

  She walked over to the front window and pulled open the curtains to greet the new day. The sun was creeping up the horizon. Her gaze settled on the blue house across the street. A blond man in a heavy coat on a bicycle pulled up front and waited. Soon Will came around his house pushing a bike. Was this the island’s form of a carpool?

  The attorney had said there were no cars on Mackinac Island. They obviously took that seriously. Will turned to her house. Could she duck out of the way? Will smiled and waved. Too late, he’d seen her. She waved back. The two men rode away.

  Time to get to work. She would spend the first few hours surveying the house and getting acquainted with her grandfather. Then she’d walk to town or wherever to the nearest store. This wasn’t that big of an island. A store couldn’t be that far away.

  She had taken a quick peek in each of the other two bedrooms last night, one a bedroom, the other used as an office-type workroom. She went into the bedroom first. A quilt made out of pink floral patterns donned the bed. Whose room had this been? Her mother’s? She sat on the bed and rubbed her hands over the quilt. Why did we never come back here, Mom? Were we even ever here?

  No clothes hung in the closet, but it was piled high with boxes. What was in them? Not one was labeled. She made a mental note of things to sort through. The dresser drawers were full of linens, memorabilia, papers. . .and junk. The bed had boxes stuffed under it, and a couple more stacks of boxes occupied the corner. This room would take a while.

  The office was more of the same—stuff to sort, most of which she would pitch. She was drawn to a small loom on a table near the window. Beadwork, similar to what Will had been wearing around his neck yesterday, decorated taut strings on the loom. She stroked the beads. What kind were they? She had never seen any like them before. The leather coat out on the coat tree had these same kinds of beads. Very unique.

  A divided dish on the table held beads of various sizes and shapes. There were also some finished pieces on the table—a beaded bag and a beaded band the size of her wrist, similar to the one Will wore. With a little effort, she managed to attach the band around her wrist.

  A knock at her door startled her. Who would be visiting her at this hour? She looked at her watch. After ten already? She hadn’t realized how long she’d lingered. She hurried to the door and opened it.

  A woman with r
ed hair stood on her porch. “Hi. I’m Lori Kessel, one of your neighbors. I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  She pushed open the screen door. “I’m Rachel Coe. Would you like to come in?”

  “Thank you.” Lori stepped inside.

  “Are you the one who gave Will the food for me?”

  Lori grimaced slightly. “He was supposed to take credit for that, but yes.”

  “I thanked him, and I’d like to thank you as well. That was very sweet of both of you.”

  “I remember what it was like when I moved not all that long ago, to want a little something to satisfy a nagging hunger without having to go out.”

  “It was very nice to have something on hand, but I can’t live on what you and Will provided forever. At some point I’ll have to venture out. Is there a store around here?”

  Lori gave her directions and explained that people often went to the mainland, where things were cheaper, to do the bulk of their shopping. They talked for a while longer; then Lori said, “I can’t think of a better place in the world to live than right here on this island. You are going to love it here.”

  “I already do.” At least what she’d seen so far. She would have to talk Christopher into coming often. She would help him fall in love with the place, too.

  Lori left shortly after that.

  A little while later, she walked the neighborhood and found the store, where she bought a few things.

  It was dinnertime before she remembered she still hadn’t called Christopher. She dug her cell phone out of her purse and noticed her bare ring finger. Where had she left her ring? She found it on the bedside nightstand where she’d left it last night. She slipped it on and dialed Christopher. Nothing was happening with her phone. No service. She walked toward the living room window and got one signal-strength boop—then no service.

  She shook her head. She would have to use the conventional phone. Hopefully it was in service. The attorney had said that all the utilities were on. Did that include the phone? She glanced out the window before turning away but quickly turned back.