“Yes, and the pumpkins!” Carol added. “Some people are really talented with their carving. I saw a few that were genuine works of art.”
“I love how everyone gets into the spirit,” Susan said. “And it’s the perfect weather for our cozy fall sweaters and boots. I’m glad I brought mine, though I may have overpacked.”
“You definitely overpacked,” Carol joked, and everyone laughed.
Jane smiled, enjoying how everyone seemed to appreciate the little details that made Lobster Bay special. “The decorations really bring the community together. It’s like the entire town is giving you a warm hug.”
They all agreed, caught up in the heartwarming ambiance of the season.
“Oh, by the way, where’s Cooper? He’s usually here, begging for a morsel or two,” Carol inquired, looking around for the friendly pooch.
“He’s with Mike today,” Jane said.
“Oh, how lovely. I hope he’ll be back before we leave,” Susan said.
As they finished their coffee and pushed their empty plates away, Susan glanced out of the window, where the sky was brightening into a beautiful, clear day. “You know, ladies, since we’ll already be out and about, maybe we should take a ride to the Rachel Carson Preserve at dusk to see the deer. It’ll be the perfect ending to our day.”
“Oh, I love the preserve!” Carol’s eyes twinkled with nostalgia. “My sisters and I used to love going there to see the deer at dusk. There was something magical about it, especially this time of year.”
“I know what you mean,” Margie agreed. “We used to walk the paths there all the time on weekends with my family. My dad was a big fan of all the different trees, and he’d teach us the names. Of course, I’ve forgotten most of them now, but those moments were special.”
Susan chimed in, “And the leaves! Even though many have already fallen, the remaining ones create such a vibrant tapestry of colors. It’s like the trees are putting on a final show before winter sets in.”
Carol nodded, smiling warmly. “Yes, the shades of amber and crimson against the backdrop of evergreens— it’s like a painting, only better because it’s real. And the deer seem to love the tranquility too.”
Betty’s eyes softened at the memory. “And those moments when a deer would just suddenly appear in the clearing, almost like a spirit animal—it’s as if the forest shared one of its best-kept secrets with you.”
The table went quiet for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts and memories of days gone by and simple pleasures.
“And then after that, how about dinner at Oarweeds?” Carol asked.
Betty sat back and patted her stomach. “I can’t even think about food right now.”
Margie patted her hand. “Well, if I know you, you’ll be more than ready to eat by dinnertime.”
Betty laughed. “True.”
Susan pushed back her chair. “Let’s go upstairs and get ready. We have a big day ahead of us.”
After the ladies went upstairs, Jane cleared the dishes from the dining room, and she and Brenda wiped down the kitchen counters, the residual aroma of fresh pancakes and coffee filling the air. As she placed the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, her thoughts returned to the previous night’s dinner with Maxi, Andie, and Claire.
The news that Claire and Sandee would be manning the animal shelter charity tent together had been a bombshell. Given their history and lingering tension, Claire was definitely going to need some moral support. And what better way to provide that than to show up as a united front?
Jane double-checked her apron, hanging it carefully on the hook by the kitchen door, and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. A walk on the beach first would be nice, and then she’d venture to the charity tent. She didn’t want Sandee to feel ganged up on, but if there was going to be trouble, her loyalties were with Claire.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Maxi paced the empty gallery, her soft-soled shoes squeaking on the floor. It was the first day of Winter Prelude, and the clock was ticking down to tomorrow’s opening. She glanced around at the barren walls that were crying out for art. But maybe, just maybe Elana Brussels would be the answer to her prayers. Muriel had suggested her, and Muriel had a good eye for talent.
Just as she was in the middle of this thought, the front door creaked open, and in walked Elana. The woman was an interesting ensemble of colors and textures. She wore a patchwork skirt of various fabrics, paired with a knitted sweater featuring every shade of blue imaginable. A rainbow of bangles adorned her wrists, clinking softly as she moved. Her hair was a wild, untamed curling mass, punctuated with random small braids adorned with tiny seashells.
The woman looked around uncertainly, a frown creasing her face as she noticed how empty the gallery was. Her gaze stopped on Maxi, and she smiled.
“Ah, you must be Maxi.” Elana beamed, offering a hand decorated with paint-splattered nails. “So pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Elana,” Maxi replied, shaking her hand cautiously. “So, what kind of artwork do you specialize in?”
“Well,” Elana began, her eyes twinkling, “I create Christmas-themed artwork, but with a local Maine flair.”
