“It is a little loud in there,” she agreed. “Sorry. I’d forgotten the heating and air-conditioning guys were going to be working here today.”
“We could go to the inn, though it’s probably not real quiet there right about now either, since it’s getting close to lunchtime and they’ve had all sorts of kiddie things going on this morning.” He paused as if considering the options. “Have you been to the new restaurant out on River Road? Blossoms? Sophie Enright’s place?”
She shook her head. “Ellie’s mentioned it, said it’s pretty terrific. She said it was named for her great-aunt Lilly, Curtis Enright’s late wife, Rose, and Violet Finneran, who worked for the Enright law firm. Blossoms, get it? Lilly, Rose, Violet?”
“Got it. Mom wrote an article when the place first opened, and she did mention that. How about we move the interview over there, kill two birds with one stone,” he suggested.
“Great. I haven’t had anything but coffee this morning since I overslept, so I’m famished. Anyplace that serves food sounds appealing. And besides, I’d like to support Sophie’s business, since she kindly arranged for me to take over her sublease.”
“You’re going to lease a place in St. Dennis?” he asked as they walked toward the driveway.
“I already did.” She stopped in front of her car. “Should I follow you?”
“Why don’t you ride with me? I have to move my car out of the drive anyway.”
“Okay. I’ll just let the guys inside know …”
She went back into the carriage house, grabbed her bag, and shouted over the whine of the power tools that she’d be back in a while. The foreman nodded and waved—message received—and Carly went back outside into the warm late morning.
“It’s almost impossible for me to work in there right now, but we really do need the climate inside the building controlled,” she told Ford as she hopped into the passenger seat of his car. “Heat and humidity are not the friends of fine art.”
“Damaging?” Ford watched in the rearview mirror for the last of three cars to pass before pulling out onto the street.
“You betcha. If we weren’t able to have this work done, there’s no way we could exhibit Carolina’s paintings in that building.”
“Good thing the town coughed up the money for it, then.”
“The town council did set some money aside for renovations, but I don’t know how much will be left when this stage has been completed.”
“It looks to me to be pretty much finished inside. What else has to be done?”
“We are going to need a top-notch security system, and that’s going to be a big ticket. So far, all of the security firms I’ve spoken with have admitted they aren’t set up to deliver a system as sophisticated as the one that’s needed here.”
“I might be able to help you with that.”
“Oh?” She turned in her seat to face him. “Are you a security expert?”
“Sort of.” A small smile played at the corner of his lips. “Actually, a friend of mine owns a security firm in Virginia. He specializes in custom work. Maybe you could give him a call.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks. I need to get an estimate quickly so I can get the shock over and done with as early as possible.”
“What shock?”
“The shock the town council is going to feel when they see what proper security is going to cost.”
“Did they give you a budget?”
“Not really. Cam worked up estimates for pretty much everything except the security, and they okayed the scope of the work, understanding that there would be additional costs to secure the building. I did try to explain to Ed that it was going to be expensive, but I guess it’s all relative. I’ve had top-notch security installed in all of my galleries, so I know it’s pricey. The cut-rate services that I’ve talked to just aren’t sufficient.”
“So what are you going to do if you get what you feel is an adequate number and the council won’t or can’t authorize the funds?”
“Then it comes out of the proceeds from the book I’m writing on Carolina Ellis. And if that isn’t going to be enough, I suppose it will come out of my pocket. Actually, I’ll probably have to front the costs and then repay myself what I can from what the book makes. I already told Ed I’d donate a portion of the sales to the art center.”
“You can take a hit that big?”
She merely nodded without elaborating on her financial situation.
The car turned onto the River Road, and Carly got her first glance of the New River as it flowed behind the houses built on its banks and toward the Chesapeake.
“It’s smaller than I’d thought it would be,” she commented. “More narrow.”
“What is?”
“The river. I guess I was expecting something bigger, more important-looking.” She turned to him and smiled. “After all, they did name a road after it.”
“Around here, they named roads after a lot of things that may or may not seem significant now.” He turned in to the parking lot next to a small stone building and parked. “The river had its place in St. Dennis history, even if it’s lost some of its muscle over the years.”
They both opened their car doors and got out at the same time.
“Now, you know you’re going to have to tell me more,” Carly said.
Ford opened the door to the restaurant and held it aside for her to enter.
“Wow, it’s really pretty in here.” Carly leaned closer to him to whisper. “So different. Look at that wall of old photos …”
The perky hostess met them just inside the door. “Will there be just the two of you?”
When Ford nodded, she asked, “Is a table near the window all right?”
“Could we maybe have the table closer to the photo wall?” Carly asked. “I’d love to get a closer look.”
“Of course.” The hostess smiled and led the way.
“Mom had great things to say about the food here,” Ford said as he and Carly were seated. “The place hasn’t been open very long, but apparently with Dallas MacGregor’s new film studio opening down the road recently, it’s a good place to celebrity-watch if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I’m not,” Carly said, “but I can’t wait any longer. I have to look at those photos.”
She rose just as the hostess—who was apparently going to be their waitress—brought menus and a bowl of small tan-colored beads to the table.
“Roasted chickpeas,” she said as she placed the bowl in the center of the table. “What can I bring you to drink?”
“Unsweetened iced tea for me, please,” Carly replied.
Ford nodded. “Same for me.”
“All right, then, let’s look at these pictures.” Carly stood before the wall, her arms folded over her chest. “I wish I knew which one was Ellie’s great-great-grandmother.” She scanned the photos.
Ford stood behind, almost but not quite close enough to touch her, close enough that she could hear—but not feel—him breathing. She stood midway between the wall and his body, and she had to force herself to focus on the pictures in front of her.
“I can help you there.” Sophie emerged from the kitchen, a white apron tied around her waist and at her neck.
“Hey, Sophie.” Carly turned and smiled. “We were just admiring your decor. I love this idea.” She pointed to the photos. “It’s so different and so charming.”
“Thanks. The idea was to bring St. Dennis into the room without overplaying the whole Chesapeake Bay thing. You know, the blue claw crabs, the oysters, the crab pots. The stuff that half the restaurants on the Eastern Shore have done. I wanted the place to be more personal to the people who live here.”
“Have you met Ford Sinclair?” Carly asked.
“We have not.” Sophie extended a hand to him.
“But I know the rest of the family.” She smiled. “My brother had his wedding at the inn and I’m happy to count your mother among my friends.”