Page 38 of Taking a Chance on Charlevoix
“That part of the lake has grown a lot. Haven't driven through it recently but it looks impressive from the road. Working with those properties might get you off to a good start up here.”
“We'll see.” Marlowe wanted to make a good impression on Gabby and her husband. Anxiety rippled through her stomach when she thought about starting over. Sometimes Marlowe was surprised at how uncertain she felt. Ten years ago she would not have hesitated. But now? She had so much to lose. But if she didn’t change her life? Wouldn’t that be a different kind of loss?
By the time they reached Sunnycrest, Marlowe was eager to see Aunt Cate and Izzy. Someone had cleared the front steps and sprinkled salt. Not wanting to block the driveway in case Aunt Cate or Izzy wanted to get out, Sam pulled up behind the mailbox. Hauling out their suitcases, they dragged them up the steps.
Before they even rang the bell, Aunt Cate threw open the front door. “Finally! We've been waiting for you.”
“Has Izzy gotten home from work yet?” Sam asked, stamping the snow from her feet.
“In the kitchen. Her shop is on winter hours and closes at three o’clock.”
Laughing, Marlowe fell into her arms. As usual her New York aunt smelled of expensive perfume and her short blond hair was perfect. With the exception of her signature red lipstick, Aunt Cate's makeup was subtle. The casual tweed slacks and sweater looked as if they’d come from an exclusive New York shop.
With a squeal, Izzy came dancing down the long hallway from the kitchen with baby Holly in her arms.
While Marlowe was hugging Izzy, Holly took one look at Sam and cried out, “Ma-ma!”
“Not again,” Izzy laughed, kissing her little girl’s forehead. “I’m Mama. Remember?”
“You two have been busy. Which one of you shoveled the front steps?” Marlowe slipped out of her heavy jacket and hung it on the antique hall tree that had been there as long as she could recall.
“I did.” The deep voice made Marlowe turn. She hadn't seen Skipper Malone walking up behind Izzy.
My oh my, had Izzy’s ex-husband become a fixture at Sunnycrest? Marlowe looked over at Sam, who seemed to have the same question. In high school Skipper Malone had a beach boy appeal with his long blonde locks and startling blue eyes. Now, he’d trimmed everything back a bit but he still turned heads. How did Izzy manage to keep him at a distance? Turning, Izzy had carried Holly into the living room. But Marlowe noticed the flushed cheeks. Skipper’s eyes followed the pair. Yep, there definitely were some feelings there.
Chapter Sixteen
MARLOWE
That night they ate pizza in front of a blazing fire. The temperature had fallen to twenty-eight––unheard of in Naples. Marlowe was cuddled up on the sofa in her jeans and bulky white turtleneck, a paper plate in her lap. Eating in the living room gave them a chance to look around. What did they want this house to look like? They were so used to the battered rattan furniture, the old sofa and chair with threadbare arms and their cherished oriental rugs.
The general feeling was that this room was too dark. When they were growing up, they’d run in and out of the house, screen door snapping shut behind them as they catapulted into the sunshine. Sitting here in the short days of winter, Marlowe felt enclosed. Without a Christmas tree, the room looked dreary. She wondered why Izzy had never brought up the tired look of the house they loved so much. Maybe she didn’t want to burden them with buying new furniture.
After Skipper left and they were settled back with tummies full of mozzarella and sausage, Izzy brought out the popcorn basket that they'd found in the attic. Over the holidays they’d had great fun with it. Even though she wasn’t really hungry after the pizza, Marlowe loved the smell of the corn popping over theopen fire. Before long she was shaking the basket over the flames while Sam melted the butter. Delighted that her fan group was back together again, baby Holly smashed about the living room and back out into the hall in her runabout.
“I feel as if she's grown over the past few weeks,” Marlowe said. The baby girl’s legs looked stronger and she spewed more words into the air with confidence, demanding “hugs” and replying “you bet” to almost any question.
Marlowe turned to Izzy. “Holly must keep you on your toes.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “You bet.” They all laughed.
“How is she doing in daycare?” Sam asked.
“She loves it. But Miss Goodman, her teacher, told me that if Holly doesn't get her way, she plops to the floor and pounds her fists.” Izzy shook her head. “We’re working on anger management.”
Barely one year old, and her niece was working on reining in her high spirits. Although she laughed along with the others, Marlowe remembered when Izzy did the same thing. Izzy probably wouldn't remember. She’d been their baby girl, and they’d all spoiled her, especially after their parents were gone. No wonder she had fits of frustration when things didn’t go her way.
Holly was delightful and Marlowe admired Izzy’s decision to adopt. Although her marriages had not worked out, evidently Izzy had held onto her dream of having a family. Good for her for making that happen. Marlowe herself wasn't quite sure how she felt about children. Maybe those days were gone for her. In her drive to succeed, she may have bypassed the usual path of husband and children. But who knew what lay ahead of her in Charlevoix?
Aunt Cate was great at filling them in about what had happened here in town while they were gone. But she seemed tired and before long, their aunt crept up to bed. The rest of themsoon followed. During the holidays, they’d all called out “Good Night” to each other, just like the Walton family in their father’s favorite Christmas movie. That night they easily fell back into that habit. “Good night, Aunt Cate!” “Good night, Izzy and Sam!” Their voices ricocheted throughout the second floor. The room was cold as Marlowe snuggled down under the daisy comforter from her childhood. But she wouldn’t want to be anyplace else. All the frustrations of her Naples office were forgotten.
The next morning heat rattled through the old floor vents and Marlowe thought she heard her aunt down in the kitchen. She sniffed. Yep, bacon. When she cracked open her door to dash to the bathroom, the upstairs hallway was quiet. The oriental runner felt stiff and cold underfoot. If the baby had awakened, Izzy must be taking care of her in their bedroom. Back in her room Marlowe slipped into her yoga pants and a turtleneck. Shivering, she drew on heavy socks before making her way down the back steps.
“Aren't you the early bird.” Looking regal in an aqua kimono robe patterned with bright pink flowers, Aunt Cate had a spatula in her hand.
“The bacon was enough to bring me down.” Going over to the coffee machine, Marlowe pulled open the drawer. When she found a pod of caramel macchiato coffee, she popped it into the coffee maker.
“How about some eggs?” her aunt asked.
