Page 103 of The Singing Trees
This was life, she thought, staring up through the ceiling to heaven. This was what it was about, and she felt the power of her mother rush through her.
Walt Burzinski was issued his wings two days later, with Annalisa and Nonna by his side. They held his hands and watched him go, a whisper drifting off into the clouds as the chirp of the monitor flatlined. Annalisa could almost see the life run from his body, and she raised her head up, saying a prayer and thanking God for putting him in their life.
It was a bout with pneumonia that finally got him, and she was thankful he went peacefully. Seeing Nonna saying goodbye was the toughest part. The two of them had come to love each other, and Annalisa was reminded how painful love could be. She had already watched Nonna say goodbye to her husband, and before that, her son—Annalisa’s father. The more people you loved, the more goodbyes you had to endure.
And yet Annalisa realized in the hours after losing Walt that all the pain that came with loving was absolutely worth it. What was the point of living if you spent it in fear? What was the point of life without love? She thought about her promise to say yes the next time someone asked her out.
For the first time since seeing the photograph of Thomas and Linh, Annalisa considered the possibility of finding love again. She thought of Walt and how he’d found renewed life through love. She thought of Nonna and Walt’s relationship, and how they’d both decided it was never too late to love. Maybe their coupling was a message to Annalisa. Thomas might not have worked out, but why should she let him sour the chance of her finding true love?
Several days later, Walt’s lawyer called her. He asked that she and Nonna come see him the next day. When the lawyer detailed what Walt had bequeathed them, Nonna and Annalisa nearly fell to the floor. The building, the shop, his Plymouth, and his money. It turned out that his wife had come from a wealthy family. Annalisa suspected he must have lived such a modest life because he would have felt guilty living off his late wife’s money. And maybe he was too consumed by pain to enjoy it anyway.
The final surprise was that he’d left them a house on the ocean in Bar Harbor.
“Say that again,” Annalisa said, glancing at Nonna and wondering if her mommy brain was confusing her.
Sitting up in his leather chair, the big cheery lawyer with sideburns chuckled. “You heard me right. Walt owned a house in Bar Harbor they call Graystone. It’s yours now.”
“Graystone,” Annalisa whispered, remembering the name written on the back of the photograph she’d found in Walt’s closet.
She turned to Nonna, sitting in the chair next to her. “He had a house in Bar Harbor? Did you know?”
“He may have mentioned something about it.”
Annalisa reached for her hand. Walt’s death had been so hard on them, but Nonna especially. “Do we really have a house in Bar Harbor?”
“Overlooking the Atlantic,” the lawyer added. “Right on the water.”
Chapter 38
GRAYSTONE
Poor Italians from Bangor and Payton Mills don’t have second houses in Bar Harbor. In fact, they don’t have second homes. Many of them have never even gone to Bar Harbor, only knowing it as a haven for the rich and famous that might as well be a thousand miles away.
Annalisa and her parents used to visit Acadia National Park for a picnic and hike, and then they’d pass through the town for a late lunch before returning home. She remembered it feeling so untouchable, so far away, even when she was standing on Main Street.
So for Annalisa, Celia, and Elena Mancuso, to drive their Plymouth Belvedere up the coast of Maine to their house on the water in Bar Harbor was a surreal experience. Annalisa didn’t feel worthy of such a gift, and she definitely hadn’t earned it, but she’d once told Walt that one must be just as good at receiving gifts as they were at giving them. Leaving Nonna and Annalisa his full inheritance had brought Walt tremendous joy, and Annalisa was determined not only to accept his gift with open arms, but to live each day with a vitality that would have made him proud.
That was why she’d rolled down her window and worn a smile that rose from the core of her soul as they rode north through the late spring air that had dried up the mud, making way for the reward of summer.
Weeks after first hearing that she and her grandmother owned a place with a name, she still couldn’t get over it. Other than the picture of Walt and Gertrude on the shore there, she hadn’t even seen pictures, but she’d heard through the managing real estate agency that Graystone was one of the true gems of the Mount Desert coastline.
More than once on the drive, Annalisa faked holding a phone to her ear and said in a high-society Boston accent, “Sorry, we can’t make Paris this year. We’ll be summering at Graystone again.” Every time she said “Graystone,” the word turned into fireworks as it left her mouth.
Nonna was still heartbroken over losing Walt, too, but let out a subtle smile whenever Annalisa attempted such silliness. Turning to the little one in the car seat behind her, Nonna said,“Tua mamma é pazza.”
Having been in the city for so long, Annalisa found it incredible to drive through the mountains, surrounded by tall trees. They exited Route 1 and dropped south to cross over the Trenton Bridge into Bar Harbor. As she drove through town, following the light traffic downhill toward the water, she had a strange sense that she was entering a new era in her life.
They parked on the pier and watched sailboats with crisp white sails full of the ocean wind race past each other in the harbor. Annalisa and Celia swung on the swings in Agamont Park, and then the three of them meandered up Main Street. With Nonna inching behind, using her cane, Annalisa pushed Celia up the hill in her stroller, finding herself in awe of this slice of heaven. Nature had never played a strong part in her work, and in this moment she wondered why. It felt like the great outdoors was missing now, as if she had to get up here and immerse herself in it, just as this town was so immersed in it.
They passed men and women in global fashions, dipping into the shops and galleries to find a rare book or to have their shoes polished or to buy a new purse or piece of art. She couldn’t get over how fancy the town felt, while at the same time being so quaint and away from it all.
She saw a lot of families, too, generations together, laughing and horsing around. It made Annalisa chuckle to herself, thinking that she sure had come a long way from the disgruntled teenager who hated the Mills, because she had a sudden craving for small-town life again. The city could be exhausting, that urgency serving as one cup of coffee too many, almost out of balance, whereas this place felt even-keeled yet full of energy. Bar Harbor was exactly what she’d never wanted until now.
“What do you think, baby? Wanna grow up here? I have a good feeling.” Annalisa wished she’d brought her paints and brushes. What was she thinking? At least she always carried her sketch pad.
Celia stumbled through an incoherent sentence as ice cream dripped down her chin, and Annalisa was pretty sure that her daughter would be happy anywhere.
Annalisa jumped back into her silly accent, impersonating her daughter in the future. “Oh, I grew up at Graystone on the shore. Married a banker from Manhattan and sailed with the Vanderbilts.” Celia didn’t understand a word, but that was okay.
