“Looks like he upgraded from the hermit cabin in the woods,” Gwen whispered, leaning close to Peter. “Freshly mowed lawn, well-tended spring garden. Friendly looking neighbors.”
“It appears so.”
They climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. An older woman answered. “You must be Gwen and Peter,” she said warmly. “I’m Jane. Please come in.”
Peter discreetly nudged Gwen, because they’d come close, in the cab on the way there, to placing bets on whether Jeremy had ended up with Angie. But Jane was clearly too young. She looked to be in her midsixties. With dark eyes and silver hair, she was an attractive, elegant-looking woman.
Gwen entered first and locked eyes with Jeremy, who appeared on the landing. “You found us without any trouble?”
“Yes. Your directions were perfect.” She felt strangely awestruck by the sight of him. “It’s so nice of you to have us. This is Peter.”
Jeremy said hello, and Jane took their coats, then led them upstairs to the living room.
“Something smells delicious,” Peter said.
“I hope you like chicken potpie,” Jane replied. “It’s still in the oven.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Can I get anyone a drink?” Jeremy asked. “We have juice, Pepsi, ginger ale, or beer and wine, if you prefer.”
Peter and Gwen asked for ginger ale, then sat down on the chintz sofa. Jane set a crystal plate of crackers and cheese on the Victorian-style coffee table and sat down in an upholstered chair across from them.
“Jeremy tells me you’re a relative of Scarlett Fontaine,” Jane said to Gwen.
“Yes. She was my mother’s first cousin, and after Scarlett went to Hollywood, she kept in touch with my grandmother, who was her great-aunt.”
Jeremy arrived with the drinks in tall crystal tumblers and handed them to Gwen and Peter.
“Are you originally from Alaska?” Gwen asked Jane.
“Yes, I grew up in Juneau. My parents owned a marina, and that’s where I met Jeremy after the earthquake. My father hired him as captain on a whale-watching tour.”
Jeremy reached for his ginger ale. “I might have embellished my résumé a bit.”
“A bit?” Jane said with laughter in her eyes.
Jeremy shrugged. “I told her father I’d worked on theWandererin Valdez. As far as I know, he never called Blaine to check my references, but even if he had, Blaine would have vouched for me. He was good that way.”
Gwen reached for her ginger ale as well. “Whatever happened to Blaine and Maud?”
“The Wilsons kept the lodge running for twenty years after the quake,” Jeremy told her. “Then they sold it for a hefty profit and retired to Seattle to be closer to their grandchildren.”
“Did you keep in touch with them after that?” Gwen asked.
“We exchanged Christmas cards.”
Gwen did the math in her head and concluded that Maud and Blaine must both be gone by now.
“What about you, Peter?” Jane asked. “Are you also from Nova Scotia?”
Gwen reached for Peter’s hand and held it. It wasn’t her intention to pretend that they were a couple. She simply wanted him to know that she would support whatever he wished to tell them.
“No,” Peter replied, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her knuckle. “I’m from the Lower Forty-Eight, as they say. I’m a writer, and I’m working on a book about Scarlett.”
Jeremy drew back slightly. “A book.”
“Yes,” Gwen said. “I was going to tell you about that yesterday, but I didn’t get the chance. Peter is the one who discovered the newspaper clipping and recognized Valerie. As a family member, I was grateful that he came to me with it.”
