Page 41 of Taking a Chance on Charlevoix
“No, he never remarried. I think he lived with a woman for a while but he didn't make it official. The word is that she got fed up.”
Hmm. Fed up with what?The fact that he was still in love with his first wife? Marlowe had her suspicions.
“Skipper seems very responsible now,” Aunt Cate said softly. “He's always helping out.” Was their aunt making a pitch forIzzy's ex? What had been going on here? Marlowe exchanged another confused look with Sam.
When Izzy tossed her topknot of curls, she looked like she was about eighteen. Meanwhile, Marlowe scrutinized every new crease on her own face every morning.
Izzy wasn't backing down. “Of course he's responsible,” she said with a sniff. “After all, he picks Holly up from daycare sometimes.”
“I think he loves your little girl, sweetheart.” Aunt Cate was not giving up. Marlowe was beginning to wish that she'd give it a rest. Izzy was applying that knife to the toast like it was a samurai sword. A chunk flipped onto the floor and Piper snapped it up. Looking down from her highchair Holly shook her head. “No, no, no.” She wiggled one finger for emphasis with Piper, who was happily munching away. Really, that child was a trip.
Meanwhile, Izzy looked upset. Springing up, Marlowe took her plate over to the counter, wiped her hands on a towel and then turned to hug her baby sister. “We're just looking out for you.”
Sniffling a bit, Izzy pulled a tissue from her sleeve, just the way their mother used to do, and jabbed at her nose. “You're treating me like a baby. You don't think I know what I want. But I do.”
Now that got their attention.
“Oh, honey. That's not true.” Sam looked as if she wanted to hug Izzy too but their baby sister held up one hand.
“Sorry, am I the culprit here?” Aunt Cate looked from Marlowe to Sam and back again. “I didn't mean anything by that comment. Just that I think Skipper has feelings for you and Holly. But I'm not saying that you have to do anything about that.”
“Good. Because a person's spots don't change.”
What did that mean? Marlowe was beginning to feel exasperated. “Okay,” Aunt Cate said, raising her brows. “We’ll take you at your word.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence for a little while. Marlowe was relieved when Aunt Cate reminded them that the contractor would be there in the late morning. Since Marlowe had that noon meeting just up the road, she wouldn't be able to stay long, but she sure wanted to see those drawings. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she ran upstairs to get ready.
When she stepped into her room, Marlowe always felt as if she were returning to the past. Over the years she'd resisted any efforts of her aunt or sisters to update the daisy covered comforter, curtains and pillows. She loved this room. The large windows looked out over the roof of the screen porch and that made her chuckle. How many times had she escaped the house with her sister Sam on a summer night when they both wanted to be down on the beach with a bunch of teenagers?
But the family's efforts were now all about change. And her bedroom was so dated. The furniture made her feel like she was returning to her high school or college days. Was she ready to move on? She felt conflicted about her decision. Maybe they all were and they just hadn't talked about it.
Conversation at the breakfast table bothered her. As she got dressed, Marlowe had to remind herself not to treat Izzy like a little girl. Sure, when they were all growing up, Izzy had been so much younger than they were. Four years younger than Marlowe and six years younger than Sam. Of course they treated her like a little sister. But now they were all adults and they better act like it.
After high school graduation, Izzy hadn't wanted to go on with her schooling. Instead she came back up to Charlevoix and married Skipper Malone. They were both too young, and the marriage was a disaster. Izzy had broken an entire setof Franciscan dishware throwing plates at her new husband. Spoiled? Maybe. Instead of putting her nose to the grindstone and working out her issues, Izzy had divorced. One year later, she married again. The same thing had happened with Chuck, although he’d hung in there for three years.
Now she was a dedicated mother and never talked about dating. Maybe there were only so many new things a woman could take on at one time. Marlowe could understand that.
For her lunch with Gabby, she had a hard time deciding on her outfit. After all, this was Michigan in the winter. When she'd come up here for Christmas, she'd felt kind of strange in her white Levis. The bright denim had attracted a few curious looks. Everyone else was bundled up in gear fit for Alaska, including dark denim and warm boots.
Marlowe decided to take it up a notch with black slacks and boots, topped by a cropped red swing jacket. The turquoise pin added a pop of color. After a quick shower in the second floor bathroom, Marlowe yanked her hair back into a high ponytail. The effect accented her honey colored eyes, especially after a light brush of brown eyeshadow on each lid. Her hands shook.
Was she nervous or excited? After Gabby had given her the name Driscoll & Associates, Marlowe had gone online to click on their website. She liked what she saw. Many of the properties were high end and that mattered. She couldn't go back to selling properties on the lower range and still maintain the lifestyle she’d worked so hard to establish.
The bell rang and the mascara wand fell from her hand. The architect was early. After smoothing back her hair and swiping on some bright red lipstick, she opened the bathroom door.
“Oh no! Is that Seth Barrett?” Izzy squawked as she ran up the steps with Aunt Cate and Sam right behind her.
“Marlowe. Thank heavens.” Izzy held Holly out to her. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” When she grabbed the baby, Holly craned her neck to see where her mom was going.Please don’t cry.Marlowe wasn't used to having Holly all to herself. Sam seemed fascinated by her, but Marlowe didn’t have friends with children. She had no experience. The little baby seemed mystified by all the excitement, but not unhappy. But then again, she had a pacifier in her mouth. With Holly in her arms, Marlowe carefully made her way down the staircase leading to the hall. The tall man standing outside was shadowed against the smoked glass inset. Shifting Holly to her left hip, Marlowe yanked open the door.
Chapter Seventeen
MARLOWE
Ablast of cold air startled the baby. Holly began to wail. What was Marlowe supposed to do now?
“What's this?” A frisky breeze lifted the architect’s thick dark hair, streaked with gray. He had a roll of drawings tucked under one arm. “Did I scare you? Didn't mean to,” he said in a voice that seemed used to dealing with children. “Sorry, guess I'm early.”
