Page 104 of The Singing Trees
When Nonna caught up, Annalisa turned. “Isn’t this the most beautiful place in the world, Nonna? What if we moved here?”
Nonna rolled her eyes, the knob of her cane striking the sidewalk like a hand of a clock ticking toward their destiny. “Here we go again.”
“I’m serious,” Annalisa insisted, her creativity simmering from within. “I feel so inspired here. Don’t you? Everyone in the Mills could come see us all the time. I wouldn’t want to do it without you. Celia needs her great-grandmother now.”
After all these years of trying to get Nonna out of the Mills, Annalisa found a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “We’ll see.”
“Really?” Annalisa imagined being with Nonna again, having Nonna’s presence around Celia. Nothing could be better. “I’m sure there’s a good Catholic church. I could open up a gallery. Lord knows there’s potential to make money here, at least in the summer.”
“We haven’t even seen the house,” Nonna said, keeping along well. “One thing at a time.”
Following a map, Annalisa led them up the hill to find the real estate office, which was in a converted old house with a roof that needed repairs. A green awning read:STEWARTREALTY.
After a brief wait, a striking man with slightly disheveled brown hair appeared. He was dressed like he’d just hopped off a yacht and had this slightly rebellious look to him, as if he’d been up to no good in a far-off port.
“Welcome to Bar Harbor,” he said. She heardBah-hah-bahand thought this was truly another world up here. “My name’s Glen Stewart.” After a reverent pause, he said, “I’m sad to hear about Walt.”
The ladies thanked him, and then he directed his attention to Celia in the stroller. “Who is this little one? Let me guess. A year and a half?”
“Close,” Annalisa said, thinking he had a refined charm. “Fifteen months.”
“Well, look at that. She must be eating her spinach.”
Glen was tall—not as tall as Nino—but tall enough to make Nonna look half his size. Annalisa guessed he was a year or two older than her.
“You’re as beautiful as your mother and your aunt,” he said to Celia, offering a sweet smile.
Nonna caught his meaning quickly and shook her head. She never liked to be wooed. Or did she? Was that a smile hiding in there?
Annalisa corrected him. “This is my grandmother Elena.”
He feigned great shock at his mistake and leaned down to make her acquaintance. “We’re so happy to have you all here. I’m excited to show you the place. Walt and Gertrude were longtime family friends, though we hadn’t seen Walt in years. He stopped coming up after she died. I was pretty young, but I remember him well. Have you driven by yet?”
Celia looked restless, so Annalisa picked her up and rested her on her shoulder. “No, this is our first time up here, to Bar Harbor.”
“It’s just starting to wake up, as you can see. We do weekly rentals for the main house, which typically pick up in May. A writer rents the apartment above the garage for a few months every summer.”
Annalisa shifted Celia to her other hip while nodding to Glen. Walt’s lawyer had shared these details.
“We can continue to help manage the property, or you can take it over,” he said. “Do you know what you’re thinking yet? Will you come up during season? I hope you’re not planning on selling.” He blushed. “We could help you sell; there’d be plenty of takers, it’s just...I’d like to see more of you up here.” An inviting smile eased out of him.
Annalisa almost rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle advance but spared him the embarrassment. Who knew? Maybe she was ready to take the leap again.
“I don’t know what we’re thinking,” she said, swaying to keep Celia settled. “I don’t even know what we’re getting into.”
Glen adjusted his early sixties Oysterdate Rolex, glancing at the time. Annalisa had learned a lot about watches over the years and liked his taste. She didn’t tell him as much.
“Let me grab the keys,” he said, pivoting and disappearing down the hall.
She watched him walk away and then turned to Nonna, who chuckled silently.
“Is this funny to you?” Annalisa whispered, thinking of Walt’s last request.
When Glen returned, Annalisa let out, “You’ll have to come over for dinner while we’re here.” She wondered if Walt had heard her from up in heaven.
Annalisa followed Glen to Sols Cliff Road. As they left town, the Maine wilderness came alive. The house was two miles south of town, downa secluded gravel driveway that cut through a thick forest. Though the lawyer had told her it was on the water, she didn’t believe it until she pulled in and saw the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree views of the Atlantic.
Graystone was a New England paradise, a cedar-shingle-style house with stone accents perched over a rock shelf that dropped down into the sea. Two tall stone chimneys rose from the sharply angled roof. A small balcony protruded out on the second floor on the street-facing side, a vantage point that surely offered a glorious inland view of the forest. A rooster weathervane on the roof indicated an easterly wind. Off to the right, down a short drive, separated from the main house by a patch of wild shrubs and sea oats, there was a detached garage with the apartment Glen had mentioned.
