"Jason stayed put, of course."
"Oh, yes. We rode it out. Hannah had me help her set aside water, food, candles, matches. She tried to get me to think of it as a grand adventure, but I only remember feeling terrified. I didn't think so much of Cape Cod after that."
"You tend to remember your first hurricane." Piper sat across from her, welcoming the cold air blowing in through her open windows. Not a hurricane-force wind by any stretch of the imagination. "I've no illusions. The right hurricane comes along, my little strip of coast'll be rearranged."
"They say in five or six thousand years Cape Cod will be entirely underwater. Geologically, that's tomorrow."
Piper nodded. She'd heard the same predictions. They were common knowledge along the precarious, windswept, sandy shores of the peninsula that jutted out into the Atlantic. "Our ancestors' cutting down all the trees didn't help."
"I guess they were thinking about getting through the winter, not the next few millennia." Sally set her glass down with an unexpectedly sharp thud. "Or their profit margin."
"Either way, what's done is done."
"After that first hurricane, I never had any fantasies about the Frye house. I never wanted it, even as a child. My friends didn't understand. I'm not sure Paul did, at first. Cape Cod's so romantic to everyone, so beautiful. But all I could think of was crouching down in the dark with Hannah and my grandfather while the wind howled and the rain lashed at the windows and the roof and walls creaked, and there was no one in walking distance who could help us. No one." She turned to Piper. "I like living in town. I don't know how Hannah stood it out here by herself after Grandfather died. Then you came, but I guess I still didn't understand."
Piper drank more of her iced tea, seeing a side of Sally Shepherd she'd never seen before. "I never thought of us being out here alone. Pop and my brothers were within calling distance—"
"Not if the power lines were down."
"Trust me, if the lines were down, they'd come hunting for us. And with the sophistication of hurricane warnings, there's no reason to stick around if a Category Five's charging up the coast."
"Unless you're Jason Frye," Sally said, not with bitterness, not with affection, but a sort of studied neutrality.
"Or a few other diehards. Most of us have been through enough hurricanes that we batten down the hatches as best we can and clear out when the evacuation orders come. So, Sally, if you're not much on the Cape, why did you buy the inn?"
She smiled, looking more relaxed. "Because it was just impossible to resist. Paul and I both fell in love with it. He wasn't happy practicing law, and we both knew immediately that this was our chance. The location in the heart of the village is perfect, we get to be around people, and it's as well protected as any spot on the Cape can be. It's not ostentatious, it's just a pretty, tasteful New England inn."
That would be important to Sally. "No regrets, then?"
"None." There wasn't a flicker of hesitation. She went on, more subdued, "And I want you to know I have no regrets about Hannah having sold the Frye house to Clate Jackson. If I'd wanted it or any of the furnishings I'd have said something. But I didn't, and in any case, I wouldn't have felt it was right to lay claim to anything."
"Why not?"
"That would have been so crass. If Hannah wanted to sell every last teacup, that was entirely her right as my grandfather's widow. Piper—" Sally jumped suddenly to her feet and put her glass in the sink. Whirling back around, her intensity, rare for so self-contained a woman, was palpable. "Piper, do you think she's happy?"
"Who, Hannah?"
"Yes. When I was a little girl I always just wanted that reassurance that she was truly happy. I don't know why. My grandfather wasn't a bad man. Frugal, a bit of a perfectionist, something of a stick-in-the-mud, but he was reliable and pragmatic. I think she could count on him. Anyway." She seemed to catch herself, and smiled, embarrassed by her own intensity. "I suppose at eighty-seven one doesn't worry too much about happiness."
Piper sensed the older woman's embarrassment. "I think we all want to be happy, Sally, no matter our age. It's nice of you to care about Hannah this way. I'm sure she'd be touched."
"Yes, I suppose." She'd retreated into the composed, dignified, rather plain woman who'd married a Boston attorney and bought a country inn in a Cape Cod village named after her family. "I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time, Piper. By the way, thank you for your advice on the inn. Paul and I both are thrilled with the results so far. We've done more work since you were there last. Please stop by, and I'll give you the updated grand tour."