“No, no. Leave it for me. It’s not much, and the fog is already settling in. I’ll be awfully put out if you end up in a ditch. Go get your coats on. I’ll meet you in the foyer.”
They were buttoned up and ready to go by the time Marian reappeared carrying a bottle of wine. She handed it to Ethan, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “La Famille Treves Sancerre—for the two of you to share. Lovely with cheese and fruit.”
Ethan examined the label. “This is from your family’s vineyard.”
“Your family too,” she reminded him. “Perhaps someday you and Ashlyn will go. Your French cousins would love to meet you, I’m sure.”
Ethan shot Ashlyn a lopsided smile. “Guess we’d better start brushing up on our French.”
“Don’t leave it too long,” Marian admonished with a hint of gravity. “Time has a way of getting away from you. Things happen, and before you know it, you’ve missed your chance.”
“All right. We’ll do it soon.”
She reached up to touch his cheek, letting her hand linger. “They’re good people, your cousins. You should know them. And Zachary and Ilese too. And the girls. Please say you’ll come back—both of you—and maybe stay a few days. I don’t want us to be strangers anymore.”
Ethan smiled awkwardly as he shifted the bottle into the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry about the time we missed. I promise to do better.”
Marian returned his smile, eyes bright with unshed tears. “We both will. Now go. And please drive safely. I’m looking forward to spending more time with Dickey’s boy and his . . . friend.”
SEVENTEEN
ASHLYN
Outer condition isn’t always indicative of what may lay inside. Perform a thorough assessment, and above all, know when to call in a professional.
—Ashlyn Greer, The Care & Feeding of Old Books
Ashlyn settled back against the leather seats as they left the crooked streets of Marblehead behind. A thick fog had rolled in after dark, shrouding the world in a cold, cottony haze, and the wine had made her drowsy.
Beside her, Ethan was unusually quiet, his eyes trained on the road, presumably digesting the day’s events. There had been a nice moment in the foyer as they were leaving, when Marian touched his cheek and told him she didn’t want them to be strangers. There had also been the slightly awkward moment when he’d committed to the two of them going to France together. Almost certainly a placation on Ethan’s part, but he’d seemed genuinely moved at the time. Maybe he would go at some point and meet his French cousins. She hoped so.
She turned to look at him, his profile lit an eerie blue-green by the dashboard lights. He looked pensive and a little subdued. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. It was a pretty full day and you seem kind of quiet. I thought talking about your parents might have upset you.”
“No. It was nice, actually. I liked hearing that Marian could tell my mom was head over heels for my dad. It’s nice to think of them like that, like young lovers. We never think of our parents that way, as people with dreams and passions. They’re just parents.”
Ashlyn preferred not to think of her parents at all, and let the remark pass. “Well, we certainly have a clearer picture of things now. How your father ended up with the books. Why he and Belle lost touch. It’s a shame. She seemed genuinely fond of him. And I think she was really glad to meet you.”
“Eventually, maybe. But she seemed wary at first. Like she thought we were there to interrogate her. I was surprised when she finally opened up. I was surprised about a lot, actually. She wasn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I guess I pictured her older. More matronly. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the woman who answered the door. I knew she was beautiful. My mother always said she was. But I didn’t expect her to still be beautiful.”
“She is, though, isn’t she? She’s also pretty marvelous. Adopting a pair of war orphans, raising them to become very impressive adults, entirely on her own. I don’t care how much money you’ve got—that’s a big job. Then starting a nonprofit to help orphaned children all over the world. And to top it off, she makes stew. No wonder she wanted Hemi to know she’s lived a full and meaningful life.”
“She did say she was too busy for a husband.”
“Oh, she was definitely busy, though I’d bet my last dollar that isn’t why she never married. I’m guessing it had to do with how things ended with Hemi. You never forget what it feels like to have someone you love hurt you so completely—and to know they did it intentionally.”
“Are we still talking about Marian?”
Ashlyn could feel him looking at her and turned her face to the window. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Ethan continued to look at her, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he let the matter drop. “At least we know his name now—Hugh Garret.”
Ashlyn felt herself relax. “I nearly fell out of my chair when she said it. We knew he was a writer—he talked about writing a couple of books about the war—but I never dreamed he’d turn out to be a bestselling author, let alone one so prolific. Marian must have been terrified that their story would show up in a bookshop window one day.”
Ethan scrubbed a hand over his chin, frowning. “I wonder why it didn’t.”
“Maybe it did,” Ashlyn blurted, not sure why the thought hadn’t occurred to her immediately. “All he’d need to do is change a few names, slap on a new title, and bang, ready-made bestseller. No one but Marian would recognize the story, and she admits she’s never read any of his books. I’ve read a few but not all. He specializes in heartbreak. Real crying-jag stuff. He could have done it and we just don’t know.”
Ethan pulled to a stop at a traffic light and turned to her. “You’re going to go out and buy all his books now, aren’t you?”
“Buy them? No. Read all his cover blurbs to see if anything sounds familiar? Absolutely. In fact, if it weren’t almost midnight, I’d make you drive to the nearest bookstore right now. Plus, I’m curious to know what he looks like. I’m sure he uses the usual headshot on his jackets, but I can’t say I ever paid much attention. Come to think of it, I seem to remember there being a few of his books in the boxes you brought to Kevin’s shop.”
The light turned green. Ethan flipped on the wipers to clear the windshield, then hit the accelerator. “Those would have belonged to my mother. She loved a good cry.”
“Do you think she knew Hemi and Hugh Garret were one and the same?”
“I don’t know. My father certainly must have, and I can’t imagine him keeping it from her. Like I said, they didn’t have secrets.”
Ashlyn was quiet a moment, mulling over bits of the day’s conversation. So much had finally been made clear, and yet she couldn’t help feeling there were things Marian had been unwilling to share. There had been a palpable carefulness to her responses, a thoughtful, almost wary parsing of words. It was a skill she’d perfected herself over the years, knowing what to leave out when answering an uncomfortable question.