Stardust on the Sea Read online

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  Stardust on the Sea

  Copyright ©2013 Tawdra Kandle

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Hayson Publishing

  St. Augustine, Florida

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Dedication

  Quotes

  Stardust on the Sea

  Epilogue

  Other books by Tawdra

  About the Author

  This story is an homage to the South Jersey Shore, which is nothing like the television show of a similar name. My Jersey Shore is all about families, bucolic days on the beach and warm summer nights on the boardwalk. It’s a tiny leftover piece of a time gone by. It’s also a love song to Cape May, which will always hold a spot in my heart, and to Aunt Peg and Uncle Stan, who have so graciously opened their home to my family for years whenever we found our way to Cape May.

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  My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

  My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

  The more I have, for both are infinite.

  Romeo and Juliet

  Love is now the stardust of yesterday

  The music of the years gone by.

  STARDUST

  Mitchell Parish

  Hoagy Carmichael

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  THE FIELDS BEYOND THE GARDENS that surrounded Carruthers Initiative were green with new life. For about a century, these lands had supported a plantation, a large family and all the servants and workers. Now that Harper Creek was the headquarters of Carruthers, the crops raised made the facility almost entirely self-sustaining, which was efficient and cost-effective.

  Usually that idea gave me a warm, satisfied sense, but today I barely saw the waving grasses. I was too busy trying to come up with a good reason not to take a vacation.

  “Harley, really, I’m fine. I just want to move forward. The next recruit. The next case.” If there was unusual petulance in my voice, I didn’t care.

  “Please, Cathryn. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

  I raised a brow. The question of who outranked who was one that never came up between Harley and me. Yes, he was about twenty years my senior and had worked for Carruthers most of those two decades, but it was my family’s business, something I’d been raised to do. We had a nice balance, and I realized that if he were mentioning it now, he must be serious.

  But giving up was not something that came easy.

  “I’ll take a weekend at the beach later this summer, okay? Or in the fall, when it’s nicer. That would be a better idea.”

  He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “Absolutely not. A week is my bottom line. A week, out of state, away from Harper Creek. Away from Florida altogether.”

  I pouted, again something that was not usually part of my repertoire.

  Harley patted my arm. “Cathryn, this year has been...challenging. For all of us. Between the unpleasantness with Emma, and then this case with Rafe—it’s hit everyone hard. But you take it personally. You always do. I can feel the strain you’re under. It’s time for a break.”

  As I opened my mouth to protest again, he delivered the coup de grace.

  “At least, that’s what your father thinks.”

  Well, that was it then. I’d lost this battle.

  I sighed. “Okay. I give up. I guess I can take a week in Miami or Atlanta.”

  “Actually, I already have everything set. And just to make you feel a little better, you’re going to combine business with relaxation—a little, at least.”

  “Oh, really? And just where am I going, if you don’t mind?”

  Harley grinned. “You’re on your way to Cape May.”

  “Harley, just in case you’ve been tempted, don’t add ‘travel agent’ to your résumé.”

  I stood on the deck of the Cape May Ferry, trying hard to find the horizon and keep down what was left of my lunch as I hissed into the phone.

  “What? I thought you’d enjoy it. So much more picturesque than flying into Philadelphia and renting a car.”

  I snorted. “Well, the drive up to St. Bruno’s wasn’t bad. Mission accomplished there, by the way.”

  “Yes, I know. We’ve made contact. All is well. And then you caught the train without any problem? Selma picked up your car from the station and drove it back here, so you can rest assured that your baby is safely garaged.”

  “Thanks. Yes, I made it to the train. And then I huddled in a cramped little room for fifteen hours, until I made it to BWI. And then I rode a shuttle bus for three hours to the ferry station. And now here I am, losing my lunch on this damned boat. I’m not coming home this way, Harley. Get me a seat on a plane, direct flight. I’m serious.”

  He was laughing, I just knew it. “All right, I promise. I’ll email you the information today. Now, try to relax a little. Vacation, remember.”

  “Right. Did you set up my meeting with Amelia?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow at noon. Lunch at a little local restaurant called Henry’s. Apparently it’s right on the beach. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure. Address?”

  “In your email, along with Amelia’s contact info. She’s very excited about this girl. I hope it turns out well.”

  “Amelia’s intuition is usually pretty accurate. Okay, I’ve got to go, Harley. I think I’m going to hurl again.”

  There wasn’t even a hint of remorse in his voice. “Have fun, my dear! Remember, it’s vacation!”

  I tucked my phone safely back into the pocket of my handbag and sucked in deep breaths of the salt air, praying for docking or death.

  I was so happy to be back on solid, non-bobbing ground that I just stood there for a minute, out of the way of the other disembarking passengers. The station, a white building with its bright blue roof, was cheery and welcoming, but it could have been a falling-down hovel for all I cared. It wasn’t moving.

  After a few minutes, I decided it was safe to venture forward. I slung my one piece of luggage onto my shoulder. The black soft-sided Coach bag was my staple travel companion, and it miraculously expanded to fit anything I might need. Those needs had never included shorts, flip-flops and bathing suits, but on the plus side, those items were a lot lighter than my normal suits and business pumps. At this point, I was grateful for small blessings.

  Harley’s most recent message had included my ferry reservation number and the information that I would be met at the station
by a car from the bed and breakfast. I tried to tamp down my longing for a real hotel, where I could hole up with my laptop in the air conditioned solitude, and scanned the curb.

  There were taxis and a few vans with hotel names on their sides. Nothing said Star of the Sea Bed and Breakfast. I pulled out my phone and checked the message. I had the right name, but there was nothing in view.

  “You Miss Whitmore?”

  I jerked around, and the walls that protected my mind from the onslaught of others’ thoughts dropped. I was flooded by images and words, not only from the old man who was standing there looking at me, but also from every other person wandering around us.

  It was rare for me lose control, and I pulled the guards back into place with no little effort. Meanwhile, the man was still waiting for an answer. And he thought I just might be mentally ill, or at least a little touched. I didn’t need to hear the tail end of his thoughts to know that.

  “Yes, I’m Cathryn Whitmore. Sorry, you startled me. Are you from the bed and breakfast?”

  He nodded, his eyes still wary. “Yep. I’m George. I work for Miss Jane. They sent me down here to get you.”

  “Thanks.” I followed as he turned and walked toward the parking lot. “How did you know who I was? There were a lot of people there.”

  “Guy who made your reservations said you were a pretty blonde, a little thing, with a black bag, and you’d be looking both mad and scared.”

  Harley. “I didn’t look scared.”

  George shot me a look that held all of his skepticism. “Right. Ah, sorry, the van is in the shop today. We’re here in the truck.”

  I concentrated on not appearing mad or scared as he popped open the passenger door of a red pick up that had definitely seen better days. Possibly better decades.

  “Here, let me take your bag.” He grabbed it away from me and tossed it into the bed of the truck before I could protest. I decided I was too tired to make a fuss and climbed into the cab.

  “How far is it to the bed and breakfast?” I ventured to ask as George cranked the engine.

  “Not far. About six miles.”

  “Oh, that’s good. I’m really tired. All I want right now is a nice, comfy bed.”

  George cast me a sidelong glance. “Didn’t you read the literature? The little papers Miss Jane sends out with the reservation confirmations?”

  “No. I didn’t make the reservations, Harley—my associate did. Why? You’re not going to tell me you don’t have beds here, are you?”

  He shifted uneasily in the driver’s seat and turned to keep his eyes on the parking lot as he backed out of the space. “No, we got beds, of course. But Miss Jane is a stickler that no one checks in until teatime. It’s the way we do things at the Star of the Sea.”

  I raised one eyebrow and cocked my head, staring at him in a way that had weakened the knees of many a lesser man than George. He only shrugged.

  I dropped my head onto the back of the seat. “And just what time would that be? Tea time?”

  “Four o’clock.” He said it as though it were common knowledge.

  “And it’s now just past noon. So what am I supposed to do for nearly four hours, George?”

  “I’m going to take you on a tour of Cape May. Your—uhhh, associate”—his tone implied the air quotes—“told us you don’t know anyone here and if we didn’t keep you busy until check-in, you might bolt back to Florida.”

  Different methods of torturing Harley flashed across my mind. “So why did you ask me if I read the literature, if you already knew that?”

  George shrugged. “Making conversation.”

  I blew out a breath, hunched down low in the worn seat and closed my eyes, wishing I could trade my mind hearing for the ability to teleport.

  The ferry ride must have taken more out of me than I’d thought, because somewhere between George’s slow turn out of the station parking lot and his stop in the middle of what I assumed was Cape May, I fell asleep.

  I’m not sure how long we’d been sitting at the curb in front of a huge old house, but from the expression on George’s face, he’d cleared his throat more than once.

  “Sorry.” I pushed up in the seat, frowning at the twinge in my back and stiffness of my neck. “Long trip.” I rolled my shoulders and pressed my hands over the short black skirt that had cinched up above my knees.

  George shrugged. “This is the Emlen Physick estate. It’s the beginning of your tour.”

  The mansion was blue with a red roof. It reminded me of an overgrown gingerbread house with a large wrapped porch.

  “Very interesting. Did you say it belonged to a doctor?”

  “No, the family’s name was Physick. Came down here from Philadelphia. It’s Victorian, built in 1879.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “Are we going inside?”

  “Nah, this is just a driving tour. If you want to come back and walk around, you can do it this week. Miss Jane sells tickets.” He popped the clutch and put the car into gear. “Next stop is the Colonial House...”

  Three hours later, I had seen every last piece of bric-a-brac there was to be seen in Cape May. We’d wound up and down the streets, past the colorful Victorian mansions, the sharp modern homes and the smaller cottages left over from the last century. George had even driven me past the lighthouse. I felt thoroughly educated in every aspect of Cape May.

  Now he slowed as we came to the end of a block, and I got my first real view of the beach over the dunes that separated it from the small boardwalk. White sand, dotted by colorful umbrellas and blankets, stretched as far as I could see. People in groups of various sizes were straggling over the steps that bridged the dunes, most of them leaving for the day, I thought. I watched a family dragging a wagon laden with buckets and beach chairs. The father was carrying a toddler, while the mother tugged on the hand of a little girl who was probably about five. An unfamiliar pang surprised me.

  “Tide’s heading out,” George remarked.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “You know, you could have dropped me here in the first place, and I would have just slept all afternoon on the beach.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You’re from Florida. You gotta come all the way to New Jersey to go to the beach?”

  I sighed. “You’d be surprised. I can’t remember the last time I even saw a beach at home.” I craned my neck to see the shoreline. “Plus, it’s different up here. I don’t know how, exactly. The horizon in Florida is so sharp, so defined. Here, it’s...softer. Dreamier.”

  George’s mouth quirked on one side. “Couldn’t tell you. Never seen any beach but these, up and down the Jersey shore.”

  “You’ve never been to any other beach?”

  He laughed. “Never been out of the state except for a year when Uncle Sam sent me on an all-expenses paid vacation to southeast Asia. My wife and me, we lived down that street there, on Cape May Avenue, from 1964 until she died five years ago.”

  I had the strangest urge to reach out and pat George’s hand as it gripped the steering wheel. Instead, I asked, “You don’t live there now?”

  “Nah, after Sybil passed, Miss Jane insisted I come live at the Star. She said it’s our family home, and I’m family. So I moved over here.” He jerked his head forward, though I couldn’t see where he meant. “Been working for her and helping out since.”

  “That’s great. So you’re related to Miss Jane?”

  “Yup, first cousins.” He put the truck back into gear and we pulled out. “Now keep your eyes to the left, and you’ll see the Star in just a minute.”

  I did as he told me. When we rounded a bend a few minutes later, my mouth dropped open.

  A huge purple Victorian mansion sprawled over an entire block. Black shingled turrets stretched against the blue sky, and porches wrapped around the curves. It didn’t have any one cohesive shape, I realized, but the gleaming white lattice somehow pulled the whole thing together.

  “Welcome to the Star of the Sea.” George turned into the semi-ci
rcular drive that fronted the main porch. While I sat, still gaping at the house, he hopped out of the truck and opened my door.

  “Come on inside, and I’ll get your bag up to your room.” We climbed the steps, and I noted that the porch felt sturdy, with no sagging or loose wood. Everything in sight was painted perfectly. Miss Jane and George clearly took good care of their legacy.

  After the brightness of the white wood porch, it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the cool dark of the foyer. The room was huge, but the burnished wood of the floors and walls made me feel slightly claustrophobic. The chandelier above my head was muted, giving off the barest of light.

  A sweeping staircase reminded me of Harper Creek, although everything in this house felt much closer, which was not surprising; the climate in New Jersey would lend itself to lower ceilings and smaller rooms, designed to keep in the heat during the winters.

  Four doors led into rooms beyond, but only one stood open. I heard voices and laughter as I followed George in that direction. He stood aside to let me enter, and once again, my senses were overwhelmed.

  This was clearly some sort of informal dining room. The round tables were small and surrounded by my fellow guests. Windows stretched floor to ceiling and were flanked only by sheer lace curtains, so that once again, I blinked in the light. The room was narrow, but it felt more open and welcoming than the foyer had.

  George nudged me, and I stumbled across the threshold. Spying an empty chair, I sat and concentrated on keeping my mental wall in place. It wasn’t usually difficult, but being in a room full of strangers without any defined purpose—no business to do—made me strangely vulnerable.

  “Ahem!” A petite white haired woman stood at the front of the room, hands clasped and eyes wide. “Good afternoon, my friends and guests! As most of you know, I’m Miss Jane. We here at the Star of the Sea are so pleased that you have joined us. Shortly we’ll be bringing out your tea—oh, we have some delicious treats for you today! I know for some of you, this is your farewell teatime. We hope you’ve had a lovely visit, a perfect time of relaxation. For those of you who are just arriving, welcome. I know you’re going to have the best vacation ever here with us.