“The tree?”
“Out in the yard. It’s where the captain hangs out. I’m not sure he could hear you if you played up here.”
“Right now?”
The kid’s eyes got bright with excitement. “Yes, please.”
There was something so earnest in the way the boy said “please.” He was good at this game, but she wasn’t about to play games today. She had things to do.
She checked her watch. “I’m sorry, I can’t right now. But I’ll check with your mom when I get back from my errands to see if she’d like me to do some music in the evenings.”
The boy’s shoulders sagged a little. “Great.” He seemed oddly crestfallen.
“So you don’t think your mother would be interested in live music for the guests?”
He shook his head. “The minute she finds out the captain likes jigs and reels, she’ll say no.” He turned away, leaving Ella alone and adrift, as if she’d misread the kid from the beginning.
Did he believe in ghosts? He seemed a little old for that somehow. Either way, she wasn’t about to screw up her new situation. She needed this job. She needed the structure of work to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Besides, she wasn’t about to embarrass her grandmother, who had called in help from her friends. So no music until Ashley signed off on the idea. And in the meantime, she had an engagement party to plan.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped inside the cozy confines of A Stitch in Time. The place had a homey vibe, with comfy chairs in the front, where an endless stream of knitters and crocheters visited on a daily basis. The store was filled with color, from the bright cubbies of yarn to the bolts of quilting cotton. Underfoot, the wide-plank pine floors had seen so much traffic they were worn down to softness.
Mom was at the checkout helping a silver-haired lady purchase a bunch of self-striping sock yarn. It struck Ella as odd that anyone would spend time knitting socks when they could buy them at the Value Mart for a fraction of the price. Somehow she’d never been bitten by the knitting bug, but she could remember the endless parade of hand-knit sweaters Mom had made for her over the years. When she’d been little, Mom’s sweaters had been special, but then, when she’d gotten into middle school, the kids had teased her about them. After that, Mom’s sweaters got pushed to the back of the bureau drawer.
Mom hadn’t knitted her anything in years. Why had she run away from that? She had no answer except supreme stupidity. Both of them were responsible for the relationship running off the rails, which was why Ella was determined to make Mom's party the best ever.
“Hey,” Mom said when the customer left the counter. “I thought you were moving into Howland House today.”
“I didn’t have much to move.” She leaned into the counter. “I’m all settled, and I’ve met Ashley’s son, who is a piece of work. He gave me a whole spiel about how the inn is haunted and the ghost wants to hear jigs and reels so he can remember the days when he used to sail the ocean, drink rum, get drunk, and dance like a fool.”
Mom snorted a laugh. “That sounds like Jackie Scott, all right. Granny says Ashley is determined not to advertise that the inn is haunted.”
“You think it is?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Because I was thinking about approaching Ashley about maybe playing some music for the guests.”
“I would avoid any mention of Jackie’s ghost.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So what brings you down here?” Mom asked.
“I need to get your invite list for the engagement party. Dylan and I are trying to put together a master list.”
“So you’re working together, then?” Mom’s eyebrows rose a little, which meant she was either surprised or pleased. It was a good sign.
“Yeah, we’re working together…sort of.”
Mom’s eyebrows lowered a tiny bit. “Sort of?”
“He pretty much wants to be in charge. So I’m sort of letting him for now.”
“Oh?” Mom sounded wary.
“There’s a problem with that?”
“Well, I guess not.” Mom didn’t sound sure.
What the hell? Did Mom want her to run the show? She could have sworn Mom wanted her to be nice and make friends with Dylan. Sometimes Mom was hard to figure out.
“Mom, he has some good ideas about the party and—”
“What ideas?” Mom pressed a hand to her throat as if she was dealing with a sudden attack of heartburn, which was apt now that Ella thought about it. Dylan could give anyone heartburn.
“He thinks we should do the party at the yacht club. He had some good arguments. I mean, it’s a nice place, and it would be easy to arrange catering. So…easy-peasy.”
Mom’s eyebrows lowered into the frown-of-death, which could kill anyone’s optimism at twenty paces.
“You don’t like the idea of the yacht club, do you?”
Mom’s mouth twitched. “Not really. I’m not a yacht club kind of person. They’re so stuffy up there.”
She’d been afraid of this. “Okay, I’ll let him know that you’ve nixed the idea. I tried to tell him that you probably wouldn’t be wild about having the party there, but he’s…” She stopped speaking. Maybe she shouldn’t call him a bully in front of Mom.
“Oh, well, don’t tell him that. I mean, let me talk to Jim first and make sure he isn’t committed to the yacht club.”
Ella wanted to let go of a deep, long, primal scream and grab her mother by the shoulders and give her a shake.
“Mom, you should just tell everyone what you want, and we’ll make it happen.”
Mom shook her head. “It’s not that easy. I don’t want Jim or Dylan to feel left out or whatever. I just want everyone to be happy.”
Right. Somehow Ella didn’t think that was possible. And then Mom wouldn’t get what she wanted, and she’d let the world know all about her dissatisfaction. Ella could
