“It’s really called dental molding?” Gabi clarified. “Dental, like dentist?”
“Sort of. It has the same root word as dental,dens.But it’s spelledd-e-n-t-i-l.It was named that because it’s composed of little blocks that look like teeth.”
Mark hooted. “Except Zoey thought they actuallywereteeth.”
“I wonder who gave me that idea?” Zoey tried to glare accusingly at him but she couldn’t keep a straight face.
“One day Zoey overheard Ivy say that a section of the dentil molding in the best room was rotting out and it was going to have to be replaced,” Mark explained. “Ivy was really upset because it had been there almost since the sea captain, Captain Chadwell, first built the house.”
Zoey cut in. “He was actually awhalingcaptain. But we weren’t supposed to make that distinction, for obvious reasons, even though back in those days whaling was a highly regarded occupation. Anyway, I didn’t know what dentil molding was but I couldn’t ask my parents because they would have figured out I’d been eavesdropping.”
“So she asked me instead—”
“Bigmistake.” Zoey shook her head, but she was enjoying this.
“I came up with a story about how Captain Chadwell was out at sea for so long, he got scurvy and all of his teeth fell out. Which was tragic, because the one thing his wife had always loved…”
Because Mark was laughing too hard to continue, Zoey picked up where he left off. “The one thing the captain’s wife always loved best about him was his pearly white smile. So when his teeth fell out, instead of tossing them overboard, he put them in a leather pouch and brought them home to give to her. At first, she was heartbroken but then she realized if she put the teeth on display she could be reminded of her husband’s smile even when he was at sea “right hunting,” meaning hunting right whales. Her china cabinet was already full of other valuables, so she secured his teeth to the molding instead.” By this point, Zoey was clutching her sides and she could hardly get the words out. “Mark told me that’s why Aunt Ivy referred to it asdentil molding.So, you can understand why I was so grossed out by it.”
Gabi wrinkled her nose. “Eww! That’s a terrible story.”
“What are you talking about? It wasromantic,” Mark exclaimed with mock indignation.
Tears were rolling down Zoey’s cheeks. “That explains a lot about your love life!”
“Seriously, I can’t believe you told something so gruesome to a little girl,” Gabi repeated.
Red-faced from cracking up, Mark snorted. “A little girl? She was thirteen!”
“I was not!” Zoey protested. “Don’t listen to him, Gabi. I was only seven or eight… eleven, max.”
All three of them burst out laughing again. When they settled down, Mark boasted, “You have to admit, I had you convinced.”
“Yeah, at first. But when I told Jessica about it, she said you made the whole thing up.” Jess never allowed anyone—especially Mark—to steer her little sister wrong. Remembering, Zoey thought,If she’d been here when I was seeing Erik, she would have tipped me off about him right away, too…
“Later that night you hid my skateboard behind the beach roses in the back yard for payback, remember?”
“Yeah. You looked for it for two days—Aunt Sylvia was the one who found it when she went out to clip flowers for her bud vase.”
“You two loved ganging up on me,” Mark accused, but he was grinning.
Zoey had forgotten about the pranks she and Jessica played on Mark and she was pleased he seemed to have such fond memories of the trio’s childhood antics, too. It occurred to her that over the course of the last ten years, she’d heard him laugh on occasion but she couldn’t recall ever hearing him howl in amusement the way he’d done just now about the Legend of Captain Chadwell, as they later titled it.
Gabi pointed to the oversized, black and white portrait photograph of a young man with a brilliant smile hanging above the fireplace. “At least your grandfather never got scurvy, Mark.”
“That’s not his grandfather—that’s Aunt Ivy’s husband, Dennis,” Zoey told her niece. “Mark’s grandfather’s portrait is hanging in the other parlor, with the rest of the paintings of Aunt Ivy’s closest relatives.”
“Oh, sorry.” Gabi narrowed her eyes at the portrait, her cheeks going pink.
“It’s hard to keep track of how we’re all related,” Zoey said, waving away her niece’s embarrassment.
She went on to explain a little about Ivy’s family. Ivy had been the eldest child of Thomas and Adele Winslow. Next came Charles, who was Zoey’s grandfather and Gabi’s great-grandfather. And then Ivy’s younger brother, Marcus—he later married Sylvia, who had become as close as a true sister to Ivy. Their son and grandson were both named Marcus, too, but everyone called their sonMarcus Jr.—or sometimes justJunior—and their grandsonMark, so there wouldn’t be any confusion. Ivy’s immediate family members had sat for the portraits when she was sixteen and the paintings had hung in the same places ever since. Thomas Winslow had barred all other portraits, including those of spouses and offspring, from the best room.
After his death, Ivy continued to honor her father’s wishes, and she positioned the photo of her husband, Dennis Cartwright, prominently above the mantel in the living room, instead. The armchair opposite it was tacitly understood to be “Ivy’s seat” and no one else ever sat in it. She presumably had situated it there so she could gaze across the room at her long-deceased, handsome husband’s likeness. On occasion, Zoey had caught Ivy talking to him, too.
“When Aunt Ivy is up to it, we’ll ask her to tell you more about her father and brothers and her beloved Captain Denny—that’s what she calls her husband. She loves to talk about them and it’s so interesting to learn about our family hist—”
Wiping his forehead with his palm, Mark interrupted, grumbling, “It’s really hot in here.”
