about all sorts of inconsequential stuff but never mentions him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s completely forgotten about him.”
“She’s probably just having a hard time dealing with it.”
Maggie tried to arrange her hair, brushing it back and forth with her hand in an effort to tame it. “That’s my guess. I was getting worried about her. So when she said she was going for a walk, I thought it sounded like a good idea.”
“Guess it wasn’t all fun and games for you two, huh?”
Maggie sighed wistfully. “No. And I was
They drove through the light at the Coastal Loop and soon turned right onto Rose Hip Lane. At the second house from the end on the right, she turned into the empty driveway at Wilma Mae’s house. Police tape still crisscrossed the front door, and the place looked dark inside.
They both climbed out as soon as Candy shut off the engine, and they walked into the front yard. They stood looking up at the house, studying the windows.
“You see anyone?” Candy asked after a few moments.
“No. My car’s not here either. Should we check inside?”
Candy shook her head. “I doubt she would’ve gone in. It’d be too traumatic for her. I’ll check the garage to see if your car’s there, but my guess is she’s not here.”
“Where then?”
“I don’t know. Let’s cruise down Ocean Avenue and then head out on the Loop and see if we spot her.”
Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t found Wilma Mae, and Candy was beginning to worry. Then Maggie had a thought. “You know, tomorrow’s Memorial Day.”
Candy gave her a look. “Yeah? And?”
“Do you suppose Mr. Wendell was in the military?”
Candy gave her a smile. “Good idea, Watson. Let’s check it out. By the way, have I told you about Cinnamon Girl?”
Maggie twisted in her seat. “No. But do tell. I love a good story.”
“Then this one will blow your socks off.” As they drove out the Loop, Candy proceeded to tell her best friend about the meeting at the Pruitt Opera House with Wanda, and about her conversation with Ben.
She’d just about finished, and Maggie was listening rapturously, as they drove through the gate at Stone Hill Cemetery.
Suddenly they both grew quiet. Neither of them had been here since the previous summer, when they’d laid Susan Jane Vincent to rest. The memories of that day, and the harrowing week before it, came back to them both. But Maggie broke the spell fairly quickly as she pointed into the dimming light and said, “There’s my car.”
It was parked along one of the dirt roads that wound through the hilly cemetery, which occupied a windswept bluff overlooking the English River. Candy angled toward the car, creeping slowly ahead as they scanned the landscape for any sign of Wilma Mae.
They both spotted her at about the same time, standing at a grave site off to the left, in the shadows of a tall pine tree. “There she is,” Candy said.
She pulled the Jeep to a stop behind Maggie’s car, and they both climbed out. The wind was fiercer out here, on open land along the river, tossing their hair and pulling at their clothes. Candy wrapped her arms tightly around herself while Maggie lowered her head, and together they trudged up the slope toward Wilma Mae.
She must have heard them as they approached, for she turned her head slightly their direction. She held a small bouquet of flowers in her hands and stood silently as they walked up to her.
“Wilma Mae, here you are. We were worried about you,” Maggie said.
“We’ve been looking all over town,” Candy added. “We were afraid you’d gotten yourself lost.”
“Oh no, dear, I’m not lost,” said Wilma Mae softly. “I’ve been here the whole time. It’s Sunday afternoon. I always come out to visit my Milton on Sunday afternoons. It’s a tradition with us. He was expecting me.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Candy said. “We just wish you would have told us where you were going.”
“Oh, I know I should have,” said Wilma Mae with a soft clucking of her tongue, “and I
Maggie patted the elderly woman on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Wilma Mae, I’m not mad. I understand completely.”
“It’s just,” Wilma Mae continued, her chest welling, “well, things are changing, aren’t they? You see, even though Milton left me all those years ago, I’ve always had Mr. Sedley to keep me company. That made it easier for me, you know? Having someone like him around to talk to was, well, it was wonderful. Just wonderful. And I don’t know if I ever told him that — how special he was to me. And now that he’s gone too...” her voice trailed off. “Well, I feel so alone now.”
She leaned forward and placed the flowers on her husband’s grave. “Now I guess I’ll have two graves to visit on Sunday afternoons, won’t I?”
Candy and Maggie stood at her side as the wind calmed and Wilma Mae cried.
Twenty-Seven
Wilma Mae was in better spirits the following morning when Candy stopped by Maggie’s house around ten o’clock. They had agreed to go together to the Memorial Day Parade, which started at one.
Cape Willington’s Memorial Day Parade was a town tradition dating back to the early 1940s, and had long been both a celebration of the beginning of the summer season as well as a solemn and patriotic event commemorating those who had served their country.
From nine until one, the police blocked off Ocean Avenue for a townwide flea market, sponsored by the local American Legion post. Over the past few years, Finn had become involved in organizing the event, and he relied on Doc and the boys, as well as Marti and the ladies of the Women’s Auxiliary, to help him with the details.
Candy had planned to make only a few brief appearances at the day’s events. She hoped to grab some quick quotes and jot down a few notes for her column, but her plan was to spend most of the afternoon at the farm, working on the gardens with Doc and writing her articles, which were due the following day. But he’d taken off early in the morning to help Finn with the flea market, telling Candy he’d catch up with her later in the day. Shortly after, Maggie had called to coax Candy into attending the parade with her and Wilma Mae.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Maggie told her over the phone. “Just us three girls, out for the afternoon. Who knows, maybe we can pick up a few cute sailors.”
Candy laughed. “Well, that does sound tempting. But in case you hadn’t noticed, most of the sailors around here are marching in the parade today and they’re pushing eighty.”
“Hey, those senior citizens can boogie. Have you seen them at the VFW hall on Saturday night? And they’ll be out in droves today. It’ll be easy pickin’s for us girls. Besides, we need to cheer up Wilma Mae. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Candy finally relented, and so just after ten in the morning, the three of them climbed into Candy’s Jeep and headed toward town.
Wilma Mae had dressed for the occasion. She wore a navy blue knee-length dress with a red, white, and blue scarf tied around her neck for an accent. A large American flag broach and sensible walking shoes completed her ensemble.
Maggie had opted for gray slacks, a sage green cotton sweater over a cream-colored blouse, and stylish loafers, while Candy wore her best blue jeans and a butter-colored fleece pullover. The weather had cooled off, with the warmer temperatures of the past few days retreating southward, allowing chillier Canadian air to filter in. Still, the weatherman had promised a shift in the wind later in the day and a gradual warming into the high sixties by late afternoon. A gentle breeze out of the northwest brought with it a bit of a late spring nip. Still, few Mainers who were out and about today would notice, since they were well accustomed to climate vagaries at this time of year
