THE MAINE COASTLINEis dauntingly beautiful with rocky shores, jagged cliffs, seaweed-covered sand, and a deep navy ocean. The water is so dark, and white foam collects in spots as waves form and crash. From my seat on the restaurant deck at The Coastal Inn, I am essentially hanging over the water, and I cannot get enough of the cove.
It’s chillier than I would have thought for the last week in April, but I should have known there’d be a cold ocean breeze. I pull my cardigan around me and cross my arms. No one else is on the deck with me, and I’m sure the server thought I was insane for wanting to sit out here, but I couldn’t resist watching the sunset.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
I look to my left and smile at the woman standing next to me. “It’s remarkable.” It might be the two glasses of wine that I’ve had, but I am nearly delirious with joy right now. I’m a million miles from Chicago, but I’ve never felt more at home, at peace. I finish off my glass.
Her spiral curls bounce as she turns to take in the view herself. “It never gets old, even after all this time.” She sighs with contentment and unties the apron from around her waist. “How was your food?”
“Perfect. I’ve never had clam chowder before, and I could have eaten another five bowls.” This is true. It tasted like heaven.
“Really? You haven’t? Well, come back anytime. We’ll make more. Can I get you another glass of wine?”
“Yes,” I say with a nod. “Another glass would be great.” I see no reason not to get shit-faced. “You’ve worked here for a while?”
“Not only do I work here, but I actually own The Coastal. My husband, Micah, and I have for years. We live here in the building, too.” She puts out a hand. “I’m Felicia.”
My heart stops. This is Sam’s mother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, trying to sound normal and not all weird and shaky. “I’m Stella Ford.”
“Lovely to meet you, too. Let me get you that glass of wine.” She stops at the French doors to the main dining room. “I might grab a glass for myself, if you don’t mind some company? Dinner service is about wrapped up, and the staff has everything under control. I’m calling it quits for the night.”
“I’d love some company.”
She returns with wine for the two of us and seats herself at the table, scooting back the chair and resting her feet on the railing. “So, what brings you to Watermark this time of year? A vacation or just passing through?”
I’m not exactly sure how to answer this. I take a big sip and set my glass back down on the table. The sound of the waves is soothing, and the salt air is fresh and smells of life. “I…well…apparently, I dropped out of college and drove across the country. Rather spontaneously.”
“Aha.” Felicia brushes what looks like flour off her billowy top and smiles. Crow’s feet show as her eyes twinkle. “You’re on some kind of adventure.”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you runningfromsomething ortowardsomething?”
Another big sip. “I don’t know that either. Both maybe.”
“Fair enough. That’s an exciting place to be.”
“It is exciting, isn’t it?” I smile.
Felicia has the sort of relaxed, eco-friendly look that my mother would despise. I like this woman more and more every second.
“You’ve owned the inn for a long time?”
I sink into my chair and listen while she tells me how she and her husband gave up on a chaotic life in New York City years before and moved here.
“One Sunday morning, we read a piece in the paper about the owners were selling this place. It was falling apart really, but it’d become a landmark of sorts despite the conditions. We just…well, we’d both had it with city life, so we cashed out and threw everything we had into this place. I have no idea how we survived, but we built a family and a life here. Even bought a vacation house north of Watermark. So, maybe I understand what you’re doing a bit.”
The wine is making me tired, and I let the sound of her voice lull me into further relaxation. We talk for the next hour, and I enjoy hearing about all the work that went into renovating the huge old inn, including how they decorated each room individually. They built up the restaurant’s menu, and eventually, they created a solid reputation.
“Our son works for us, too. He’s basically the building manager.”
I’m decidedly drunk right now, and I cannot lie to her. “Sam, right?” I say with a slur. “I know your son.”
Her surprise is obvious. “You do?”
“I mean, sort of.” I can’t help from laughing. This is incredibly stupid and strange to be sitting here, talking to Sam Bishop’s mother. “I don’t reallyknow him, know him. I met him once in Chicago, years ago. He was there for a class trip of some kind.”
She lights up, presumably relieved that I’m not a full-blown stalker. “Yes, that’s right. He was.”
