Eyes on the Prize Read online

  “Neither have I. With both of us working, Fred and I don’t get a chance to get away very often.”

  “Oh dear. Maybe he’d have liked to go with you on this trip,” Alice said.

  Vera glanced over at her. “Are you kidding? He said he’d rather go to the dentist than spend a week trying to talk Aunt Agatha into moving to an assisted living center. He’s very grateful you agreed to come with me.”

  “That’s good. I mean, I wouldn’t want to take his place if he wanted to go. Of course, it’s not a vacation. I know this will be difficult for you and your aunt. I hope I can be of some help.”

  “Just knowing you’re with me will help, believe me. I’ll need an ally.” Vera turned onto the state highway and headed southeast toward Delaware.

  “I remember how I enjoyed meeting your aunt when she spent Christmas with you and Fred years ago. She reminded me of an older Aunt Ethel, very spunky and capable.”

  “That’s Aunt Agatha. Or at least it was. She must be at least ten years older than Ethel. How old is Ethel, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. She won’t tell anyone. Probably around seventy-five.”

  Vera chuckled. “They’re a lot alike. Aunt Agatha won’t tell either. I’d guess she’s at least eighty-seven. She was still driving until this accident.”

  “If they’re recommending an assisted living facility, her driving may come to an end,” Alice said.

  “I dread her reaction to that the most. She loves her old black Lincoln town car. It’s as big as a boat and she barely sees over the top of the steering wheel, but she loves it.”

  “Sounds like Louise and her old white Cadillac.” Alice chuckled. “I can just picture Louise in twenty years, still driving her old Caddy. But at least she’s tall, so the steering wheel won’t present a problem.”

  Alice was disappointed when the drive only took an hour. She loved the seasonal changes, but she’d been too busy back at home to get out and enjoy the subtle signs of autumn’s approach. She soaked in the scenery of wild asters and goldenrod blooming in purple and golden profusion along the roadside. Dogwoods and shrubs showed patches of reds, and poplar and ash trees displayed early touches of yellow. Hints of red foliage shimmered from the red maples and black gum trees in the brilliant sunshine and light breeze. They passed rolling farmland with picturesque old barns, grazing cattle, horses and sheep behind weathered split-rail fences. Rows of graceful old maple trees overhung the country road, creating a dappled, multicolored canopy as the sunshine poked through their branches.

  Descending from the farmland, the road wound down into the Delaware River Valley. From the hill, the river shimmered like a silver ribbon weaving through the landscape. Large, old stone and brick homes with long expanses of green lawns overlooked the river.

  “That’s Shelton Cove right below us,” Vera said.

  “It’s lovely. It must have been hard to leave.”

  Vera smiled. “Not when I was young and in love. I couldn’t wait to settle in my own home with Fred, no matter where we lived. Fortunately, he’d already chosen Acorn Hill. It has a similar small-town atmosphere, although Shelton Cove is a river town, so boating and fishing are mainstays here.”

  The road took them through the middle of town. Bright flower baskets hung from every streetlamp, and barrels of yellow, white and orange mums sat along the sidewalks next to the curbs.

  They came to a stoplight. Ahead, the road crossed a steel bridge over the river to the New Jersey side. Vera turned left onto the main street.

  “Goodness, it’s busy. Are these all townspeople or tourists?”

  “These are mainly tourists. Most of the locals stay home on Saturdays, except for the merchants, of course.”

  Alice looked around as Vera navigated the crowded street. The buildings were all stone or brick, with brightly painted shutters beside the windows. They looked very old, Alice thought. She remembered from her history classes that whalers had settled the area in the late 1600s. She doubted that any of the buildings dated back that far, but some looked like the historic buildings she’d seen in Boston and Philadelphia.

  The road curved inland around a cove, with stores on one side of the street and a river walk along the other. She spotted an ice cream parlor with a large painted wooden ice cream cone hanging out front, and decided she must remember its location and treat Vera, if they had time, after a visit with her aunt.

  “We’ll have time to tour the town during the week, when the tourists have gone home. We’ll need to get some exercise after sitting with Aunt Agatha most of the day.”

  “Good. I’d love to explore.”

  “We’ll have to make up our beds at Aunt Agatha’s house, I imagine. Reggie wouldn’t think about it, and I doubt Aunt Agatha keeps rooms ready for company.”

  “That will keep us from getting lazy,” Alice said.

  A mile out of town, as they rounded the far side of the cove, the road climbed to run along a ridge. Large homes overlooked the cove. Alice saw signs for a yacht club and a boatworks. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of a busy marina filled with sailboats and motor yachts. Just past the marina, Vera turned down a driveway. They passed a hedge of bayberry bushes laden with clusters of silver berries, and the landscape opened up. A stately brick mansion dominated the gently sloping hill.

  A wide, manicured lawn swept down from the house to the river. A copse of evergreen trees sheltered each side of the large property, but the view of the cove and river was unobstructed. A small, flat structure, surrounded by railing, perched on top of the three-story home. It reminded Alice of a gazebo or an oversized cupola. She’d seen homes with similar features, called widow’s walks, when she’d visited Cape Cod.

  “Here we are.” Vera parked on the side of the house under a columned, covered porte cochere. Alice could imagine horse-drawn carriages pulling up to the entrance and uniformed servants helping ladies in hoop skirts to alight from the carriages. A porch light was on in the middle of the day. The house was perhaps twice the size of Grace Chapel Inn.

  As they got out, Alice said, “You didn’t tell me your aunt lives in a mansion.”

  Vera looked up at the massive structure that rose three stories. “It’s quite a monstrosity, isn’t it?”

  “Hardly that. It’s beautiful.”

  “If you like austere and imposing,” Vera said, opening the trunk and lifting out their suitcases. “There should be a key under the doormat.”

  Alice walked over and lifted the mat. Sure enough, a large key lay beneath the mat. She picked it up and tried it in the solid oak door. It opened with a click.

  “We’re in.” Alice opened the door, then picked up her suitcase and bag and let Vera precede her.

  They stepped into a large entry hall that curved around to another entrance at the front, facing the cove with massive double doors. The dining room was on the left. Across from them, a set of glass French doors led to a parlor, furnished in pale green and white, with a formal upholstered sofa and Queen Anne style chairs clustered around an ornate marble and carved-wood fireplace. An elegant curved stairway rose from the center of the entry hall. The banisters and steps were polished mahogany. Alice envisioned regal ladies in long, full gowns sweeping down the stairway.

  “There’s a music room and a study and library around past the stairs,” Vera said. “I’ll give you a tour of the main floor later. Right now, let’s go find our bedrooms.” She started up the stairway.

  Following her, Alice looked around. “Are all the bedrooms upstairs?”

  “Yes. I suppose the study could be made into a bedroom. They converted the coatroom into a bathroom when I was a child, but it doesn’t have a tub or shower. Aunt Agatha insisted on being modern. She loves to remodel, so the house should be in good shape.”

  “Is there another way to get to the bedrooms?”

  “There’s a servants’ stairway at the back of the house. Aunt Agatha employed a live-in housekeeper and a cook for years, and Reggie and I used to sneak up
and down it when we were children. We could get to the attic and the basement without anyone seeing us. I doubt it’s been used in years.”

  “There’s no elevator, though, so your aunt couldn’t get to her bedroom?”

  “I’m afraid not. If she came back, we’d have to close off the upstairs.”

  “This banister looks like it’s been polished recently. Does your aunt have a staff to maintain the house?”

  “Not full time. I’m sure she uses a cleaning service. One person couldn’t keep it up.” Vera reached the second-floor landing. They stepped out onto an open sitting area that surrounded the stairs. There were rooms on all sides. The stairway continued up to the third floor. Vera set her suitcase on the plush champagne-colored carpet. “Leave your bags here while we explore,” she said.

  She looked inside the first room. “Everything in here’s under covers. Let’s check the others.” She closed the door and went to the next room, toward the front of the house. Its furnishings also were covered in sheeting.

  “Here’s Aunt Agatha’s room,” she said, cautiously opening another door, as if she expected her aunt to catch her going into a forbidden area. She peered inside, then stepped into the room and stood aside for Alice.

  “I’ve only been in this room a few times in my life,” Vera said, flipping on the light switch.

  The room blazed to life. Alice blinked twice. Even with the curtains drawn, the room seemed on fire in bright, vivid red, coral and yellow.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Vera said in an awed voice. “Last time I was here, everything was green and electric blue. I know to expect something wild, but it still surprises me.”

  The corner room had tall windows on two sides. The sun backlit the satin drapes, making the shades of yellow, orange and red glow. In contrast, the subdued shade of coral carpet matched the walls, making the drapes and bed all the more dramatic. A white marble fireplace took up one corner, with a low red-velvet chair and matching daybed nearby. A crystal chandelier hung from the high center of the room, surrounded by cherubs liberally decorated with gold. The polished red wood of the ornate dressers and bedstead shone from the glow of the lights overhead.

  “Has she always used such vibrant colors?”

  “As long as I can remember. My Uncle George said her colors were so loud he had trouble sleeping. Aunt Agatha’s personality matches her bedroom. Flamboyant and bright.”

  “I see.” Alice wondered how Vera would convince her aunt to give up her house and wild decorating for a small, bland apartment in an assisted living center. It promised to be a daunting task.

  “Let’s pick our rooms.” Vera waited for Alice to step into the hall, then shut off the light and closed the door. She went to the next room and the next. All the rooms were closed up and cold, even though the day outside was warm. They checked six bedrooms in all. Only Agatha’s room was made up.

  Vera opened a door to a walk-in linen closet. She took out sheets and towels for both of them, and carried them to the front room next to Agatha’s room. “You take this room, and I’ll take the one next door. They have views of the cove and the town. It’s beautiful at night with the lights reflecting on the water.”

  Alice pulled back the draperies. A small, private balcony extended from each room. She opened the glass-paneled door and let the light and warmth of the sun into the room. The house faced south, with a view of the town directly across the cove. Off to the right, where the lawn met the water, she could see beautiful boats docked at the marina. A cluster of tall pines hid the boatyard and most of the buildings, but she could hear hammering and some kind of power tool. How disappointing it must have been to live in such a beautiful home, then have a boat repair business move in close by.

  Vera had begun removing sheets from the furniture. Alice helped her. Within minutes, they had uncovered a lovely dark walnut bedroom set and a green and peach, damask upholstered daybed. Alice liked the quiet, calming colors after seeing Agatha’s room.

  Together they made up the bed. Vera found a light down blanket and down pillows packed in zippered plastic cases in the closet. Alice took the blanket out on the balcony and shook it to fluff it and air it out.

  “The bathroom is here,” Vera called, carrying a set of towels through a doorway.

  Alice followed her. The large bathroom had an old-fashioned claw-foot tub. Vera placed towels about and then they left to make up Vera’s room. It looked identical to Alice’s room, except the colors were rose and blue.

  After they deposited their luggage in the rooms, Vera suggested getting some lunch. “I’d prefer to face Aunt Agatha on a full stomach,” she said. “Who knows what the afternoon holds. Besides, I’m dying to go to the Blue Claw Diner. They make the best lobster rolls and hot fudge sundaes.”

  Alice’s stomach rumbled. She laughed. “Sounds good to me. I didn’t realize I was hungry.” They opened windows to air out the house before they left and headed for town.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hey, Jane. Jane Howard. Wait up.”

  Jane barely heard the words behind her, carried away on the breeze. She stopped in her tracks and turned. About fifty yards back, Eleanor Renda was jogging toward her, waving. The high school track coach had been Vera Humbert’s college roommate, but her petite size and freckles made her look more like the teenagers she coached.

  “Whew!” She took a deep breath. “You’d think I’d stay in shape with my job, but I don’t always run with my students.” She took a couple of breaths. “I doubt I could keep up with them, but don’t tell them that. I can take most of them in a short stretch.”

  “I know I couldn’t keep up with them. Besides, you’re the coach. You can take it easy. The football and basketball coaches don’t work out with their teams.”

  “You have a point.” Eleanor laughed. “And they’re a lot younger than I am.”

  “Would you like to join me?” Jane asked, wondering if Eleanor wanted a partner.

  “That would be a nice change. Thanks. I usually run alone. Gives me time to think and plan. You probably do the same.”

  As a matter of fact, Jane was used to jogging alone, and she did a lot of thinking and praying on her runs.

  They began slowly, jogging side by side at a comfortable pace.

  “You’re entering the 10K race, aren’t you?” Eleanor asked.

  “I sent in my entry form and I’ve gathered a few sponsors, so I guess I’ll run. You?”

  “Thinking about it. I can’t train alone. No one to pace myself by. Most members of the cross-country team are running. Gets them in shape and helps a good cause. I have an aunt with diabetes.”

  They ran in silence for a mile, their feet pounding out a rhythm in unison, their breathing huffing in and out in time.

  “I thought … I was in shape,” Jane said. “I run at least … four times a … week.”

  “Me too. Different when you … push yourself. Got to pace ourselves.”

  Jane’s ponytail plastered against her neck. She felt a trickle of perspiration run down her forehead. She wiped it with the back of her hand.

  “Let’s slow down gradually,” Eleanor said, decreasing her pace.

  Jane matched her, stride for stride, until they were walking at a steady rate.

  Eleanor took a water bottle from her waist pack. She took a swig. “Do you have water?” she asked Jane.

  “Yes.” Jane took a small plastic bottle out of the pocket of her windbreaker, which was tied around her waist. She took a big swallow.

  “You should get a bigger bottle,” Eleanor said. “You must stay hydrated. They’ll have water stations along the race, but get used to drinking when you work out.”

  “You’re right. I normally don’t run this far.”

  “No one does around here. I ran marathons in college and the first few years I taught, but that was a long time ago.”

  Jane gave her companion a smile. It was nice to run with someone. The time went faster and the distance didn’t seem so long. They came
around the back side of Fairy Pond and connected with Chapel Road about a mile north of Grace Chapel Inn.

  “Did you come up from town?”

  Eleanor nodded. “I parked near the General Store, so I can do my shopping before I head home.”

  They jogged slowly down the hill toward the inn.

  “I’m glad you caught up with me. I enjoyed running with you,” Jane said.

  “Let’s do it again midweek … say, Wednesday after school. Could you run then?” Eleanor asked.

  “Sure.” Jane liked running early in the morning, but she could adjust her schedule. It would be worth it to run with a professional coach. Like having her own personal trainer. “Where shall we meet?”

  “I’ll come to the inn. Four-thirty all right?”

  “Great.” They’d reached the inn. “I’ll see you then.”

  “So long.” Eleanor waved as she ran on.

  The Kramdens stood on the path in the garden, next to Louise’s pumpkin patch. The husband’s arms waved about as he demonstrated his knowledge of garden pests.

  “My daddy’s an amotogist,” their four-year-old daughter announced, squinting up at her father with a toothy smile. “He plays with bugs.”

  “That’s entomologist, dear,” the mother corrected. “Geoffrey just received his doctorate,” she explained.

  “Congratulations,” Louise said. He barely nodded. She stood in front of them, trying not to look inhospitable while still blocking their way to the pumpkins. She didn’t relish having their guests digging through her vines looking for bugs. Perhaps she’d feel different if he’d left the children outside the garden, but he hadn’t and they made her nervous.

  “Plants of the squash family, which includes your pumpkins, are susceptible to a variety of insects. I did my doctoral thesis on biointensive integrated pest management. From here, your plants appear to be relatively clean, but those little buggers can be elusive,” he said, wagging his finger.

  His wife giggled. He looked pleased that she appreciated his humor, or at least that’s what Louise surmised. Janine Kramden held their squirming two-year-old son in her arms, rocking back and forth with jerky motions, whispering in his ear and kissing his cheek, but holding on firmly. The girl sat at her mother’s feet, fascinated by a caterpillar, which Louise was certain Jane would pick up and evict from the garden.