To Cherish Page 8

  Jemma reached for the closest box. Those silver candlesticks had to be in here somewhere.

  The first box was filled with old clothes from what looked like her grandmother’s early days. Jemma pulled out an old sequined flapper dress, in surprisingly decent shape. There were a few small holes that probably could be fixed.

  She frowned, trying to envision what her grandmother had looked like wearing the dress. Maybe there were old photographs somewhere. Then again, maybe the dress hadn’t belonged to her grandmother but to someone else. Grandma had died in her mid-eighties, which meant she would have been born in the early thirties, not the roaring twenties.

  Gram had a few sisters, though. Old enough to have worn the dress? Maybe. Either way, she couldn’t bear to put the dress back in the box, so she carefully set it aside. There had to be something on the internet that would explain the best way to preserve antique clothing.

  The next few boxes weren’t much help either, no silver candlesticks. Moving deeper into the attic, she found a very old large trunk. Maybe from when her great-grandparents immigrated here from Ireland?

  Her fingers itched to see what treasures might be inside, but a large furry spider abruptly dropped down mere inches in front of her face.

  “Yeeiiikkk!” Frantic, she jerked away and stumbled backward, to put more distance between her and the hairy beast. The heel of her shoe caught the corner of another box, and she landed hard on top of it, coughing as she was once again enveloped in a cloud of dust.

  “Good grief.” Her heart was racing, and she put a hand on her chest as if that alone would slow it down. Glancing over toward the trunk, she noticed the spider still hung there from his sticky web, spinning in circles, taunting her. She shivered and rose off the box while keeping far away from the spider, deciding the trunk could wait for another day.

  Viewing the box she’d tripped over as a sign, she opened that one next. Intrigued, she saw the old family Bible sitting on top, along with the twin silver candlesticks tucked in opposite corners. The silver was badly tarnished but still recognizable. She set them aside, then pulled out the old Bible, too. Had it belonged to her grandmother? Or her great-grandmother?

  She opened the first page to see if there was a family tree inside, but there wasn’t one. The words were in English, not Gaelic, so she had to believe it hadn’t been brought over from Ireland. Still, she wasn’t sure how old it was. With a sense of excitement, she paged through the Bible, wondering if she could get an antique expert to gauge the age of the book.

  Beneath the Bible was a folded letter, the paper yellowed with age. Curious, she took it out and carefully unfolded it. The handwriting was thin and a bit shaky, the ink was faded to the point it was difficult to read.

  She took the letter closer to the light, far from the spider, and began to read:

  Dearest Lucy,

  My world is dark without you in it. I don’t understand how this happened, and I’m finding it difficult to move on without you.

  Life is so precious yet so brief. In one fleeting moment it’s gone, as if it had never been. I’ve searched the Bible for answers but have found no solace to ease my pain. Some would say I haven’t tried hard enough, and that may be true. It isn’t easy to dissect one’s mistakes, holding them up to the glaring light of day.

  This suffering is my price to pay.

  Always, J.

  Jemma frowned, trying to add context to the cryptic note. Lucy was a woman obviously, but who was J? Her grandparents were Joan and Jerry McNally, both J names. And they’d continued the tradition by calling her father, Justin. Who in turn added to the madness by naming all six of their children names starting with J.

  She read the words a second time, feeling certain the words were written by a man. Maybe it was the hint of a forbidden romance and the way it was signed, “Yours, J.”

  It was also fairly clear that Lucy, whoever she was, had died. Life is so precious yet so brief . . .

  The note was old, and worthless, but she couldn’t seem to set it aside. It had to be written either by her father or her grandfather. Jemma carried the candlesticks down to the kitchen to polish them, then went back to the attic to bring the note and Bible down, too.

  As she worked on unveiling the brilliance of the silver beneath the tarnish, she couldn’t help going back over that letter.

  Who was Lucy? And what relationship did she have with a member of the McNally family?

  8

  Taking a three-and-a-half-year-old with you to run errands was truly an adventure. Garth had underestimated how quickly they’d be able to get his fishing pole, tackle, and bait. By the time they’d returned to the B&B and settled on the shore, a full hour had passed.

  “Me! Me!” Trey jumped up and down beside him. “I wanna fish.”

  “You will. First, we have to put a worm on the hook.” He bent down so Trey could see what he was doing. “The worm is food for the fish. Now, I’m going to help you cast, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Garth covered Trey’s small hands and then jerked the rod, sending the worm and bobber out to the water. It didn’t go very far, but the lake was deep so he hoped they’d get lucky.

  “Hold the pole steady, like this.” He kept his hands on the fishing pole, fearing Trey might let go. “See the bobber in the water? When it goes under the water, that means we may have caught a fish. When that happens, I want you to reel it in.”

  Trey stared at the yellow and red bobber intently for all of five minutes. Then his gaze began to wander. “I see a boat!”

  “That’s a speedboat.” He remembered what Jemma had said that first day, about how the sailboat had reminded Trey of his father. “Does your daddy have one like that?”

  Trey nodded but didn’t elaborate. A speedboat was different from a sailboat, but apparently, they all were alike in a child’s eyes.

  “Have you seen your daddy lately?” He tried to keep his tone casual.

  “Yep.” Trey nodded again.

  His gut clenched. “Where did you see him?”

  “At home.” Trey wiggled and gasped. “Do we have a fish?”

  The bobber had only gone down in the trough of a wave. “Not yet. Where at home? Turn around so you can see the house. Can you point to the place where you saw him?”

  “No. At home,” Trey repeated as if he were dense.

  Garth realized the boy meant at his old house, rather than here at the B&B. The McNally mansion must seem too new to the child, not yet considered home. Garth dropped the subject, realizing that attempting to get credible information from a toddler wasn’t smart. “Look, Trey! The bobber went down. Reel it in!”

  Trey let go of the fishing pole so he could turn the reel. Garth quickly grabbed it before it could fall, then helped to keep the pole steady, while Trey labored over the task. Garth feared the fish had gotten away, but when he lifted the tip out of the water, a tiny carp dangled from the end of the line.

  “A fish! A fish!” Trey jumped up and down again, full of excited energy. “I caught one!”

  “You sure did.” He finished reeling in the carp. He held the end of the line. “Can you hold it like this so I can take a picture?”

  “Yeah.” Trey took the line, nearly dropped it, then managed to hold it up. Trey grinned as Garth snapped several pictures.

  “Good job. This fish is pretty small, though, so we need to throw him back.”

  Trey’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t wanna throw him back.”

  Garth knelt beside him. He decided against explaining the DNR rules about fishing. “He’s a baby fish, Trey. I think he might be lonely without his mommy and daddy. Wouldn’t you be lonely without your parents?”

  Trey pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re right. We gotta let him loose.”

  “Good boy.” Garth unhooked the baby carp and then let him go in the water. The little guy quickly swam away. “See? I bet he went right to his mommy and daddy.”

  The boy glanced up at him. “Are you gonna
be my new daddy?”

  Whoa. Garth rocked back on his heels. Where had that come from? “Um, well, you see . . .” He cleared his throat and tried to think of a way to redirect the kid. “What happens first is that your mommy falls in love. When she and the man she loves get married, that’s when you’ll get a new daddy.”

  “I want you to be my new daddy.” Trey threw his arms around Garth’s legs. “My mom likes to marry policemans.”

  Probably not anymore, he thought with a grimace. Still, the kid was adorable, so he reached down and hauled him up into his arms. “I like you, too, Trey. We’ll be friends, okay?”

  Trey nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response. The kid hugged him and then wiggled in his arms, as if eager to be put down.

  Garth set him on his feet. “Do you want to fish some more?” he asked. He gestured toward the container filled with night crawlers. “I’ll bait the hook for you.”

  At first Trey nodded eagerly, but then he frowned. “What if we catch another baby fish? I don’t want to take him from his mommy.”

  “We can always let him go,” he said gently. When Trey still looked indecisive, he backed off. “Never mind, we’ll try fishing another day. Right now, let’s take a walk along the lakefront.”

  “Let’s run!” Trey said, taking off as fast as his chubby legs would take him. The kid took a big lead, considering he was less than a third of Garth’s size.

  He hurried to catch up with the boy, horrified at the thought of him falling in the water, or worse, under his watch. Out of nowhere, a memory of Kate and Sophie laughing at the park crept into his mind.

  He ruthlessly shoved it away.

  “You can’t catch me,” Trey said with a giggle. The boy changed directions, heading away from the water, into someone’s backyard.

  “No, Trey.” Garth infused authority in his tone. “We can’t go onto other people’s property.”

  The child either didn’t hear him or chose not to listen. A dog let out a sharp bark, causing his chest to tighten with terror.

  “Trey!” His voice was sharp with fear. “Stop right there!”

  This time the boy did as he was told, at the same moment a large yellow furry dog came running from the house, heading straight for Trey.

  Garth put on a spurt of speed and scooped the kid up off the ground seconds before the dog arrived. Thankfully, the animal was friendly, sniffing and wagging its tale as it sniffed Garth’s shoes.

  “Frieda! Get back here right now!” A woman he estimated to be in her mid-fifties came out of the back door. “Don’t worry, she’s harmless. Except of course for possibly licking you to death.”

  “I see that.” Thank God. Garth’s heart still thundered in his chest at the close call. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to trespass.”

  “Not a problem. Frieda, now!” The woman took several steps toward the dog, who whirled and ran back to her. “Frieda had a litter of puppies over a month ago, they’ll be ready to go to good homes in another week or so if you and your son are interested. She’s a Goldendoodle and doesn’t shed.”

  The hopeful tone in the woman’s voice made him smile. He recognized her from being around town but had never responded to any calls to her home, which was probably a good thing. “Trey isn’t my son, so it’s not my decision. I’ll let his mom know, okay?”

  “Great. My name is Erica Tang. I have male and female puppies to choose from.”

  “I’m Garth Lewis, and this is Trey McNally. His mom owns the B and B.”

  “Oh.” Erica’s expression fell. “I’m not sure a puppy would be welcome in a B and B.”

  Garth realized she was right. “Probably not, but it can’t hurt to ask.”

  Erica nodded but didn’t look happy when she turned to take Frieda back inside.

  Garth turned and carried Trey back to the lakeshore. Despite the fact that he’d only been with the boy for a couple of hours, he was suddenly exhausted. How did single parents do it? How did Jemma manage, day in and day out? He had no idea.

  She deserved a medal. Especially considering she rarely let Trey’s rambunctious and sometimes trying behavior get to her.

  “Where are we going?” Trey asked.

  “Home.” He remembered Trey’s earlier confusion and added, “To your new home. The big yellow house you now live in with your mom.”

  “Okay.” This time, Trey seemed content to be carried, resting his head on Garth’s shoulder. “Will Mommy let me have a puppy?”

  Puppy? Oh boy. He was in trouble. Big trouble. He never should have had that conversation in front of Mr. Big-Ears. “I don’t know, she’s already pretty busy taking care of you. She might not have time for a puppy.”

  “My mom can do anything,” Trey said with confidence.

  Yeah, Garth thought. Jemma could do anything, since she was practically Wonder Woman, but he sensed what she was going to do was give him a stern lecture about raising a small child’s hopes up about getting a dog.

  After that? She’d probably throw him out on his backside, refusing to speak to him ever again.

  Jemma was in the basement, moving a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer when she heard Trey and Garth return.

  “When are you gonna ask her about the puppy?” Trey demanded.

  Puppy? Her stomach clenched. Oh no. He wouldn’t. Garth wouldn’t promise Trey something like that.

  Would he?

  “Trey, I told you before, your mom is already super busy with her new business and taking care of you. She probably doesn’t have time for a puppy.”

  No, she certainly did not. Besides, having a puppy underfoot while managing a B&B was just asking for trouble. Would they need additional insurance to cover dog bites? She shuddered at the thought.

  She tossed a fabric softener sheet among the damp clothes and closed the lid and started the dryer. Squaring her shoulders and silently berating Garth for bringing up the subject of a puppy in the first place, she returned upstairs.

  “Hi, Trey. How many fish did you catch?” She kept her tone light but gave Garth a dark, steely glare.

  He winced, picking up on her not-so-subtle message that she’d heard the conversation. “Only one, right, Trey?”

  “Cause he was a baby fish and needed to go back to live with his mommy and daddy.” Her son ran over to give her a hug. “Then we saw the doggie, and I was scared at first, but she was real nice. The lady said she has puppies, Mom. Can I have one? Please? Can I?”

  “I’m pretty sure the puppies need to stay by their mommy, too. Just like the fish.” She narrowed her gaze pointedly at Garth. “Right, Garth?”

  “Right.” He shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. His gaze was apologetic, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet.

  “But the lady said we could have a puppy.” Trey could be incredibly single-minded when he wanted something. “We could take the puppy to visit her mommy every day so she wouldn’t be lonely.”

  Did that mean the puppies weren’t very far away? Great, just great. “Trey, honey, listen to me. A puppy is a lot of work, and I don’t think I can take care of you and a puppy at the same time. Now, are you hungry? Auntie Jazz and Uncle Dalton will be here for lunch soon.”

  “But I wanna puppy!” Trey’s dark brown eyes filled with tears. “Please?”

  Dear heaven, what had Garth done to her? How on earth had they stumbled upon a dog and her puppies?

  “Trey, that’s enough. You heard your mother, she can’t take care of you and a puppy.” Garth’s voice was stern. “How about we play with your cars while she makes your lunch?”

  Trey’s little shoulders slumped, and he stomped grumpily over to where his mini cars were scattered along the hardwood floor of the dining room.

  “I’m sorry,” Garth murmured as he walked past to join her son.

  “Yeah, me too.” It was times like this that made being a single parent incredibly difficult. She understood Trey’s desire to have a pet, and she didn’t have anything agains
t dogs. Unfortunately, she was allergic to cats, so that narrowed their options.

  A goldfish? Hamster? Chinchilla? She wasn’t fond of rodent types of pets, but those options were better considering they would have guests staying here.

  An image popped into her head of a hamster getting loose and running up the stairs into the guest rooms, and she shuddered.

  Nope. That wasn’t happening.

  She resolutely returned to the kitchen, debating what to make for lunch. If she was only cooking for her and Trey, soup and sandwiches would be more than enough. But Jazz and Dalton were working hard on their renovations and would likely prefer something more.

  Deciding on grilled chicken tacos, she went to work. At least they were easy to make. As she diced and grilled the chicken, she reviewed her menu plan for breakfast on Saturday.

  After pouring over her grandmother’s recipes, she was leaning toward using thick slices of Irish brown bread to make French Toast. She also toyed with the idea of making eggs Benedict, although she wasn’t sure how well those would go over. Of course, then she needed to plan out the full Irish breakfast, including blood pudding.

  Homemade cranberry muffins and lemon-poppy seed bread would round out the meal. For drinks, she’d offer a variety of fresh juices, coffee, and tea.

  When the taco meat was ready, she set about making homemade guacamole. Jazz and Dalton showed up just a few minutes later.

  “Hey, Jemma,” Dalton greeted her upon entering the room. “Something smells good.”

  “Tacos,” she confirmed.

  “Did I hear tacos?” Garth echoed as he joined them. “My stomach is grumbling already.”

  Men, she thought wryly. “Time to wash up for lunch, Trey.”

  This time, her son didn’t give her any trouble, and she sensed by the wary looks Trey cast her way that her son was trying to prove he was a good boy who deserved a puppy.

  And he was, darn it. But puppies and guests didn’t mix.

  “I see you found Grandma’s silver candlesticks,” Jazz said, dipping a chip into the guacamole. “They look awesome on the mantle framing the Cliffs of Moher painting from Ireland. I’m jealous that Jake is in Ireland right now.”