“Josephine is at the restaurant with Daniel, and Julia’s still asleep. I’m gonna fix mom a plate when I’m done and take it to her.”
“How is she?” Rory couldn’t help the slight quiver in her voice as she asked.
Cora hesitated; fear flashed in her blue-gray eyes. “Mom is…hanging in there.”
Rory didn’t understand what her aunt meant but decided not to push further as it was evident the subject was upsetting.
“Everything will work out, Aunt Cora,” she reassured her.
Cora reached across the island to rest her palm on top of Rory’s hand gratefully. As soon as she was finished, Rory headed for the door and made her way to the inn.
Rory ran her palm over the colorful flowers and ornamentals that formed a wall on either side of the path, her fingers caressing the spiky, velvety, and rough exterior of each plant. The stunningly green lawn spread for as far as the eyes could search before ending in thick woodlands obscuring the view of the harbor. The view was truly magnificent, especially the inn. The three-story colonial-style white house was truly magnificent with its beautifully cut stone steps that led up to the wide front porch and the double French doors. The entire building was perpetuated by wide sliding windows and balconies that surrounded the upper floors.
Rory walked up the few steps and entered the foyer. Again, she paused to admire the open space with high ceilings that supported a chandelier just between the grand double staircase, the glass panels shimmering as they caught the morning light and cascaded like a waterfall. She loved everything about the building.
A painting on the wall caught her eye. Her feet moved on their own until she was standing before it, admiring the brush strokes and the warm use of colors that brought the art to life. She walked to the next piece that hung a few feet away. It was a painting of a little girl with wide, frightened eyes with a tear that was suspended on her cheek.
“You like it?”
Rory looked over her shoulder to see the smiling face of her mother.
“I love it,” she replied, looking back at the painting.
“It was chosen by Marg,” Andrea informed her. “She has a degree in event planning and design.”
“She has impeccable taste,” Rory complimented, earning another smile from her mother.
“Hear that, Marg? My daughter thinks you’re awesome.”
“I’m flattered,” the woman responded, coming to stand with them as they stared at the painting some more.
“You have lovely taste,” Rory turned to tell the woman sincerely.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Marg responded. She then turned to face Rory. “Your mom says that you paint?”
“Um, a little,” Rory replied shyly.
“She’s a brilliant artist,” Andrea jumped in.
“Maybe you could do a painting that we can hang in here,” Marg suggested looking expectantly at her.
“Um…I’ll think about it,” she replied.
Marg gave her a warm smile.
“I’m sensing I missed something important here.”
The three women turned to the gentleman looking at them quizzically.
“Hi, Ben,” Andrea greeted warmly.
“Hi,” came Marg’s soft reply as she stared affectionately at him.
The group moved over to the reception area.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought us lunch. Well, late brunch, actually,” he said, looking at Marg. “You’re welcome to join us,” he turned to say to Andrea and Rory as if just remembering they were also there.
“No, that’s fine. I’m sure you two lovebirds need your privacy,” Andrea responded. “Rory and I will man the desk. Go...” Andrea made a shooing motion, ushering them out. Rory chuckled at her mother’s antics.
