Agnes reached for a handful of Goldfish.
“It’s beautiful,” Maud said. She took a Pepperidge Farm cookie.
“It is. We are working now on preserving it forever. I’m hoping to leave it to a land trust.”
“Are you going to move?”
“I have no plans for that. This is for the future. My father would want me to preserve it before I kick the bucket.”
“I know something about your father. I looked him up. He sounds like he was an enlightened person. A fair-minded businessman.”
“That’s right,” Agnes said. “He believed in helping the people who worked for the company to rise in the world. That was a strain of thought coming down through the line from my great-grandfather, who founded this Fellowship. The other strain was more conventional capitalists—or so I see it—who kept their hearts and minds on profit. My cousin Archie is from that strain. It’s a real difference of approach, and it caused a rift in the company that resulted in my father retiring early. He was sorry about what had happened, but he had plenty to do without going to an office.”
“He loved it here.” Maud could feel it.
Agnes nodded.
“Your fans would like to hear more about him in the book.”
“You’re persistent, you know that?”
“Sometimes.” She thought of running out on Miles the night before. She supposed that could be interpreted as persistence in maintaining her own integrity and not succumbing to his fleeting desires anymore. She was persistent about trying to help Heidi, and about Clemmie’s well-being. “I guess I am.”
“What if I want to maintain privacy about certain things? Certainly that’s my right. Isn’t there a difference between a memoir and a tell-all, or whatever it’s called?”
“I think that’s what I’m here to figure out with you. What more you could comfortably tell that would give the reader a clearer sense of how you came to write the When Nan books. It’s a lot to ask readers to surmise how you became a writer just from beautiful descriptions of Fellowship Point. They want specifics and—”
Agnes pushed her knuckles against the chair and, with effort, stood. “Yes, yes. So you’ve said. Come. Let me show you around before dinner. And let’s shelve this conversation until tomorrow. I’m tired by this time of day.”
Maud was sorry she’d pushed. “Of course. I would love to see everything. Especially the Sank.”
“Stay here, Maisie!”
The cat sat back on her haunches and looked up at Agnes placidly. Agnes gave Maisie an exaggerated blink. Maisie blinked back. They repeated the routine three times.
Agnes got a walking stick and repeated to Sylvie they’d eat at six-thirty but Maisie could have her supper now. The screen door slapped behind them, and there they were, in a kind of heaven. “This is Point Path. It runs the length of Fellowship Point. We’ll go this way today, but you can walk by the water, too. The water is frigid and the rocks are slippery, but it’s always a balm to be so close to the sea. Oh look—there’s Polly. Shall we invite her to join?”
“Sure.” Maud was torn—she’d just met Agnes, but she didn’t want to be disagreeable. When she saw Polly’s kind and open expression, though, it occurred to her she might be an ally.
They waited until Polly caught up and fell into step.
“Your reputation precedes you,” Polly said. “I hear you are a taskmaster.” Her eyes shone with a warm teasing. Maud found her lovely right away.
“I’m trying to help, I think.”
“But you must push this old bird! She’s very stubborn. She scares everybody.”
“She does?”
“Oh yes. Even me, and I know how tenderhearted she really is.”
“I’m not deaf yet,” Agnes said. Polly raised her eyebrows at Maud, and Maud in turn felt a rush of elation. They were letting her in.
They passed into the woods and the temperature dropped. Light filtered through the trees, making a case for celestial magnificence.
“But don’t let her scare you,” Polly went on. “She was very close to her father, you know. I have found that girls who have that kind of backing are often fierce.”
“That’s interesting. What about the backing of mothers?” Maud asked. Heidi had backed her as well as she was able.
Agnes sighed. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
Maud’s elation ebbed. Her scalp prickled. She’d said something wrong, but she didn’t know what.
Agnes put her arm out and a finger to her lips. “Shh—do you hear that? That’s an owl,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t hear it,” Maud said. She knew nothing about being in the woods.
They all stopped and listened. Shortly Maud heard a sound like air blown through a pipe.
“Is that it?” she whispered.
Agnes and Polly nodded. They smiled at each other. They’d had a long life of such surprises and sharings.
“Many live here. They’re predators, like the eagles, but they leave each other alone in the Sank.”
“I’m so glad to see this place,” Maud whispered. “It’s just as you described it. Will we see the eagles?”
“Maybe,” Agnes said.
They walked deeper into the woods. The mossy forest floor, the dun-colored needles, the expressive tree bark, this slowed-down world—Maud wished Heidi and Clemmie were here to see it. She hadn’t shown Clemmie enough of the natural world. She made a vow to change that. And Heidi loved Maine. She’d only been here once, for her honeymoon, but Maud had grown up on the When Nan books, supplemented by Heidi’s stories of pine-needle paths through the woods and rocky beaches. One year when she was old enough to order a present, she got Heidi a subscription to Down East, and had been renewing it ever since. Heidi always exclaimed when it arrived, and turned every page slowly. And she read the When Nan books to Clemmie from the moment she came home from the hospital.
Agnes planted her walking stick and pulled herself forward while Polly stepped nimbly over the tree roots. Maud thanked her for the M girls coming to pick her up, and Polly explained all her children and grandchildren. Maud’s eyes pricked as they always did when she heard stories of big families. She had watched The Sound of Music many times, imagining she was Brigitta.
They walked across the Sank to a clearing on the edge of a gently sloping cliff. “Notice anything?” Polly asked.
Maud looked around. It was a ludicrous question—there was so much to notice. The shimmer off the sea made her wonder if she was seeing islands or optical illusions. If she lived here, she’d stare at the ocean all day.
“Be still. Wait.”
Maud nodded. After a few moments her feet became warm, and the heat traveled up her body. Should she mention it, or was she imagining this, too? The weariness of travel was catching up with her.
“This was an Abenaki campsite, and possibly even older,” Agnes said. “The Native people rode their canoes down the river and came here for the summer.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right,” Agnes replied. “We have artifacts we collected here, well cared for if I do say so. Polly and I once came upon a group of boys who were digging around and hurling things out of the hole. We chased them away.”