Enchanted August by Brenda Bowen Read Free Book Online Page A

not a lie, since the plane was headed this way, but only because she had chartered it to do so. “So I took the liberty of coming early. It was so thoughtful of the owner not to be here. I chose this room because it has such a charming little porch, don’t you think?”
    Caroline was laying on the ingenue-speak but she wanted them to know right away who was in charge. Not only did the room have a charming little porch, but it was in one of the two turrets that directly faced the sea. Even with its imposing architecture and tall narrow windows, Caroline thought it must have been a daughter’s room, or a maiden aunt’s. It had framed prints of roses on the walls and two pink nightstands. She actually had not taken the largest bedroom, on purpose. The other turret room had even more space. She knew Lottie and Rose wouldn’t have it in them to kick her out of this room. They could have come early if they’d thought of it.
    â€œWe actually thought you might need this room more than we did,” said Lottie. “We would have preferred to give it to you ourselves, but now that you’ve taken it, we’re happy.”
    Lottie was either an excellent liar or was a true naif. Caroline had encountered so many of the former that it would take a lot of convincing for her to believe the latter.
    â€œAre there any other surprises we should know about?” asked Rose.
    Caroline hesitated a bit before she spoke.
    When she’d arrived in the small municipal airport the day before, she’d had the distinct feeling she was being followed. A couple of charters had landed just before her craft had landed and one of the passengers, an elderly gentleman, followed her to the small parking lot alongside the airstrip.
    There were only three cars in the lot, one of which was the Mini Caroline had ordered. Out of another, an ancient champagne-colored Cadillac, stepped a good-looking young man with a competent air. “All set?” he asked, and the elderly gent got shakily into the gleaming old car.
    Caroline drove her Mini to the Big Lost landing just in time to make the three o’clock ferry. She was behind the champagne Cadillac almost the whole way.
    As she stepped onto the boat, she realized that the young man who’d driven the Caddy was also the ferry driver. He didn’t so much as glance at her as she boarded. Unusual, she thought. The driver’s elderly passenger was already installed in the boat, taking up almost an entire bench. Not that it mattered, as there was no one else going across. She hadn’t brought a lot of luggage, but it was a little tricky getting it onto the boat. She brushed shoulders with a bearded man who was getting off as she was getting on. He was carrying a guitar case and had a tentative air. Please let him not speak.
    â€œCan I give you a hand?” he asked. Caroline acted as if she had not heard him. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose, left her bags on the lower deck, and walked past him up the stairs to the boat’s upper level. The guitar player looked after her and mumbled an apology—for what, she was not sure. He had such soft brown eyes and his voice was so deep that she almost replied; then the boat pushed off. As they motored evenly to the dot of land ahead, she barely registered the elderly man from the Caddy, who did not look at her. But she began to notice him when he stood on the dock with her on the other side, consulted a sheet of paper, and walked behind her all the way up to Hopewell Cottage. They both kept a slow pace: Caroline because she kept getting pebbles in her heels; the gent because he couldn’t get up the hill any faster. He was dressed for the city too. Nicely cut blazer, khaki pants, white shirt, good collar; pity about the brown tie. When they wound their way to the front steps of the cottage she thought they would surely part ways. She stalled, to give him a chance to walk past her. “I love those