played, there was music playing, soft and light, but no TV. Most important, there was a woman always nearby. Alixcould almost see her smiling and approving. And sometimes there were other people. A young man who always looked worried. And a tall boy who smelled like the sea. There were smiling ladies who ate little cakes with yellow rosebuds on them. She could remember the taste of the petits fours and the itchiness of her new dress.
Over the big fireplace was a portrait of a lady. MISS ADELAIDE KINGSLEY , the label said. From her hair and clothes it looked to have been painted in the 1930s. She was pretty in a sedate, respectable-looking way, but there was a twinkle in her eye. The woman Alix was remembering more clearly by the hour was much older than in the portrait, but Alix well knew that sparkle in her eye. It seemed to say that she knew and saw things that others didn’t, but she wasn’t telling what. Except that she had shared her knowledge with Alix. She couldn’t remember exactly what Aunt Addy had told her, but Alix still felt the love that had been there—and the shared secrets.
Alix had wanted to spend the day with Izzy exploring the old house and walking around Nantucket. After all, her friend would leave soon. And Alix feared that once she was back on the mainland, Izzy would delve so deeply into planning her wedding that she and Alix wouldn’t have much contact. Toward the end of the summer, Alix would be Izzy’s maid of honor and Izzy would be married—and that would be the end of their girl friendship. Alix tried not to think how Izzy’s impending marriage would separate them.
It had been an excellent plan to spend the day together, but it didn’t happen. Alix awoke early with her mind fully on the possibility of showing her work to the Great Jared Montgomery. If he liked what he saw, maybe she could get an interview for a job at his firm. At the very least she’d show him what an eager-to-learn student she could be.
She lay in Aunt Addy’s bed in the early morning, her arms behind her head, looking up at the silk rose. Even if she didn’t get a job with him, to be his student—even if it was just for a few weeks—would be the highlight of her architectural studies. She could definitely put it on her résumé. And more important, she’d learn masses from him.
She wanted to design something to impress him. A house? How could she do that in just a couple of days? She was good at freehand sketching so maybe she could do some façades. But then she’d need to see the land. Everyone knew that Montgomery believed in buildings coming from the land, from the environment. He did not believe in mock Tudors in Dallas.
“What can I draw to impress him?” she whispered aloud.
As Alix lay there thinking and coming up with nothing, a small framed picture fell off the table against the far wall. Surprisingly, the disturbance in the still room didn’t startle her, but it did make her sit upright.
She got out of bed, her old T-shirt and threadbare sweatpants drafty in the cool morning. While she didn’t understand why, she knew the picture that had fallen was important. Picking it up, she saw a photo from the 1940s of two young women laughing. They wore pretty summer dresses and looked happy.
It had been a nice thought that the picture held some significance, but she couldn’t see what that was. She put the photo back on the table and headed for the bathroom, but then she stopped, turned back, and picked up the picture again. In the background, in the far distance, was a small church. Maybe not even a church but a chapel, like those private family ones she’d seen when she and her father had visited England.
For a moment Alix envisioned Jared Montgomery’s home office and his designs for garden sculptures and gazebos, for arbors and a little garden shed.
“Small,” she whispered. “He’d like to see something small and exquisite.” She looked over at the big portrait of the Kingsley
Over the big fireplace was a portrait of a lady. MISS ADELAIDE KINGSLEY , the label said. From her hair and clothes it looked to have been painted in the 1930s. She was pretty in a sedate, respectable-looking way, but there was a twinkle in her eye. The woman Alix was remembering more clearly by the hour was much older than in the portrait, but Alix well knew that sparkle in her eye. It seemed to say that she knew and saw things that others didn’t, but she wasn’t telling what. Except that she had shared her knowledge with Alix. She couldn’t remember exactly what Aunt Addy had told her, but Alix still felt the love that had been there—and the shared secrets.
Alix had wanted to spend the day with Izzy exploring the old house and walking around Nantucket. After all, her friend would leave soon. And Alix feared that once she was back on the mainland, Izzy would delve so deeply into planning her wedding that she and Alix wouldn’t have much contact. Toward the end of the summer, Alix would be Izzy’s maid of honor and Izzy would be married—and that would be the end of their girl friendship. Alix tried not to think how Izzy’s impending marriage would separate them.
It had been an excellent plan to spend the day together, but it didn’t happen. Alix awoke early with her mind fully on the possibility of showing her work to the Great Jared Montgomery. If he liked what he saw, maybe she could get an interview for a job at his firm. At the very least she’d show him what an eager-to-learn student she could be.
She lay in Aunt Addy’s bed in the early morning, her arms behind her head, looking up at the silk rose. Even if she didn’t get a job with him, to be his student—even if it was just for a few weeks—would be the highlight of her architectural studies. She could definitely put it on her résumé. And more important, she’d learn masses from him.
She wanted to design something to impress him. A house? How could she do that in just a couple of days? She was good at freehand sketching so maybe she could do some façades. But then she’d need to see the land. Everyone knew that Montgomery believed in buildings coming from the land, from the environment. He did not believe in mock Tudors in Dallas.
“What can I draw to impress him?” she whispered aloud.
As Alix lay there thinking and coming up with nothing, a small framed picture fell off the table against the far wall. Surprisingly, the disturbance in the still room didn’t startle her, but it did make her sit upright.
She got out of bed, her old T-shirt and threadbare sweatpants drafty in the cool morning. While she didn’t understand why, she knew the picture that had fallen was important. Picking it up, she saw a photo from the 1940s of two young women laughing. They wore pretty summer dresses and looked happy.
It had been a nice thought that the picture held some significance, but she couldn’t see what that was. She put the photo back on the table and headed for the bathroom, but then she stopped, turned back, and picked up the picture again. In the background, in the far distance, was a small church. Maybe not even a church but a chapel, like those private family ones she’d seen when she and her father had visited England.
For a moment Alix envisioned Jared Montgomery’s home office and his designs for garden sculptures and gazebos, for arbors and a little garden shed.
“Small,” she whispered. “He’d like to see something small and exquisite.” She looked over at the big portrait of the Kingsley
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