Mary Brady - Silver Linings

Delainey parked facing the harbor, got out and leaned on the open door to take in the subtle beauty of the misty gray morning. Next to her adorable daughter’s face, her favorite sight in the world was this small harbor, home to fishing boats, pleasure boats and one lone yacht. Though right now there were only a few fishing boats and the yacht out there in the fog that obscured the outer islands and even those boats were indistinct images, almost dreams.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The smell of the sea filled her with a sense of being home, of knowing what was good in her life. She would miss all of this if she ever had to live inland.

“Hey, that was quick.”

Christina waved from Cora’s porch and charged down the steps of the old Victorian home. Her blond hair and her long legs flew. The two of them might look very much alike, but Christina had more energy than Delainey could even imagine.

She threw her arms around Delainey and squeezed hard. “You came. I can’t believe you left work. Won’t they fall apart without you?”

Delainey hugged back. “They might, but today I’m visiting my sister’s brand new acquisition. Congratulations.”

“Your leaving work for anything besides Brianna is so out of character for you. You’re scaring me—you know that, don’t you?”

“I told you I’d come.”

“So what happened?”

She grinned at her sister. “I got into law school.”

“Congratulations, sis!” Christina squeezed her in another hug. “Does anyone besides you know?”

Delainey snorted. “Brianna knows. I was going to tell them at work this morning but something else came up.”

“Some big new case, I suppose.”

They both laughed at Christina’s words. There were no big cases, only a few hundred small ones in varying stages of resolution or decay.

“So do we get to go inside?” Delainey asked, closing the door to her car.

“Oh, yes. Let’s start with Cora. She’s my star.”

Christina jiggled the handle of the double-door entryway and let them inside.

Delainey was surprised by what she saw. “Christina, there’s a fireplace in your, um— This is much more than a foyer. What do you call it?” The wide hall swept all the way to the back of the house, with the fireplace on the left side and two small alcoves and four doors, two on either side, leading to the parlor and kitchen and whatever other rooms Victorian homes had on the first floor.

“It’s a reception hall, and that—” she pointed to wires dangling from the ceiling high above them “—is the chandelier.”

Delainey laughed. When they were growing up, the home of her sister’s dreams would have seven chandeliers. “How many are there?”

“This house has six and the others each have four.”

“Twice as nice. Cool.”

Delainey sucked up the misgivings she felt about her sister’s ability to deal with one house, let alone three, and followed her on a tour. Without a doubt, these houses were three of the town’s valuable historical assets, and also without a doubt, no one had been able to give proper attention to them for decades, maybe a half century. And the prospect of fixing them up excited her sister so much Delainey caught some of the fervor.

The tour did net the fourteen chandeliers. Some were dangling light fixtures, old but not antique. Some were capped or, as in Cora’s reception hall, dangling wires. The fireplaces numbered only nine, as some of them had been removed or covered over, and they were, at least, better than the chandeliers, as they were probably original with stone or wooden surrounds, most with cast-iron inserts.

Before the tour finished, Delainey almost started seeing women in long dresses and men in waistcoats moving through rooms lit by flames and filled with the joy of a quieter life.

“Come on, let’s go back to Cora,” Christina said when they had finished in Dora. They ended up in one of the rooms at the front of the house, off the reception hall. Christina had lit a fire in the...living room? Parlor? Delainey wasn’t sure of the technical term for the room where a warm fire burned brightly in the fireplace. The fireplace’s gray marble surround needed work, but it would be gorgeous when refinished.

An old couch, an ancient stuffed chair and a battered coffee table sat totally out of time sync with the architecture but in the warmth of the flickering fire.

“Are you sure about this?” Delainey asked when they were comfy on the sofa and chair. Christina frowned and Delainey put both hands up. “Wait, wait. I did not just ask that question. Of course you’re sure.”

Christina’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not even sure I should be here in Bailey’s Cove, Delainey, but I don’t want to be out there, either. I still have a bundle of money saved from the engineering job I had at Bandal. The worst that can happen here is I run out of money—and I can always get more of that. Bandal would hire me back in a second. At least my peace of mind will remain intact if I try this.” Christina leaned forward and rubbed her hands together to let the fire warm them. “And besides, did you hear about the hundred-and-fifty-year-old house at the end of Harbor View Street?”

“Hmm, the Bradish house. It’s a shame. They’re tearing it down to build a new house for someone from Portland.”

“Somebody has to step up and save these old pieces of our history.” A big Christina grin spread across her face. “At least that’s what I tell myself when I have trouble falling asleep at night because I start to worry that I’ve taken on too much.”

When the doorbell rang, her sister leaped up and let in Big Charlie, a worker from Pirate’s Roost, the new restaurant up the street. Charlie had a pastry box, a thermal carafe and two coffee mugs.

“Right over here, Charlie.”

The man, wearing his faded Sea Dogs baseball cap, grinned at Christina and put the breakfast items on the coffee table. Christina produced tip money for the eager guy, who grinned harder and left as quickly as he had come.

She turned to Delainey. “Has that man had his meds altered? I don’t remember him being quite so cheerful when I lived here before.”

“I don’t think any meds are involved, except I don’t think he drinks at all anymore. Mia Parker has taken him under her wing.” She paused when Christina smiled and then continued. “Yeah, it would need to be a really large wing, but I guess she’s given him a purpose. Pirate’s Roost has only been open about eight months and already people come from Augusta, Bangor and Portland to dine.”

“I might be jealous of her,” Christina said with a false sulk.

Delainey laughed. “Because she caught such a hot guy?”

“Daniel MacCarey is more than hot, and actually, I’m not jealous. In fact, Mia’s my role model. I want this bed-and-breakfast to catch on like the Roost.” Christina poured coffee while Delainey opened the box of tiny, tasty-looking treats made by the eager and excellent pair of young chefs at the Roost.

Her sister continued. “She wasn’t afraid of investing in this town. I used her as an example of success when one of the bankers questioned Bailey’s Cove as a good place for a bed-and-breakfast of this size.”

“And the Roost has pastry to die for.” Delainey held up a small puffy treat with a dusting of tiny sugar crystals and then took a bite. “Mmm. This one seems to have an almost creamy cinnamon-raisin filling and practically flakes apart in my hand.”

“That’s why I got the little ones.”

“So we can have more.” It was a sister game they played. They’d cut a freezer pizza into sixteen slices. That way they could have more pieces if they were really hungry. They didn’t care if anyone else got the humor; they were sisters and they understood each other.