Shadows on the Sea Page 7

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  “’Cause my pa talks about lenses all the time. The lighthouse uses big lenses to magnify the light it sends out. I’ve heard him mention Zeiss lenses dozens o’ times. They’re a German company that makes cameras and binoculars and telescopes—and stuff like that.”

  “How did Nana get these if they’re not for sale in our country?”

  “Maybe she got ’em before the war.”

  “But these look brand-new.”

  Quarry looked through the glasses again. “There’s that Bishop guy, now. He’s drivin’ off in that old car of his.”

  “Let me see.” Jill took the glasses and watched the car zoom down the road in a cloud of dust. She could see Clayton Bishop turn into town and park at Mr. Binette’s store. “He’s at the grocery store. Let’s keep a record of everywhere he goes.”

  “You’re not suspectin’ Guy Binette of being a spy, are you?” Quarry raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Just ‘cause Clayton Bishop is buyin’ groceries at his store.”

  “I’m not suspecting anyone! Yet.” Jill glanced across the channel at the lighthouse and the rugged house where Quarry lived. “Maybe we should set up some way of sending messages to each other at night.”

  Quarry burst out laughing. “Just use the telephone, for cryin’ out loud.”

  Jill flushed. “I suppose. But there may be an emergency sometime. And we do want to keep all this a secret.”

  “Okay. If ever anything is wrong, signal to me from the widow’s walk with a flashlight. I’ll know it’s you—if I happen to be lookin’ this way, that is.” Quarry chuckled again.

  “What’s so funny? I’m beginning to think you believe this whole spy thing is stupid.”

  “Don’t get riled up. I’m just teasin’. I’ve got to go over to home now, but I’ll stop by the library on the way to see if I can find what that word sonnabend means. You stay here and keep an eye on Clayton Bishop.”

  “I’d go to the library with you, but I have no tire on my bike.”

  “I’ll get it fixed today,” Quarry promised.

  “Quarry, don’t ask for a German dictionary at the library. You’ll have to look for it yourself.”

  “Stop worryin’. I’ll keep my mouth as tight as a clam.”

  “You’d better,” Jill warned. “If anyone finds out what we’re doing, we could be in real trouble.”

  Invitations

  Jill stayed up on the widow’s walk and watched Quarry ride to town. He turned once to wave, and she waved back. She could see him through the binoculars as he parked his bicycle and started up the steps to the library, but then trees got in the way of her vision so she aimed the glasses at the grocery store. Clayton Bishop’s car was gone. “Where did it go?” Jill sputtered. “I only took my eyes off of it for a few minutes. Darn!”

  “Something wrong? Didn’t you see any puffins?” Nana poked her head through the hatch and climbed up.

  “No, I didn’t see what I was looking for,” Jill answered truthfully, “but I’m going to keep watching every day.”

  “I’m so glad you found a nice hobby. Jill, I noticed Quarry’s gone, so I wondered if we should go to Bayswater now instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

  “That would be fun! I’ll buzz Wendy and see if she can come. I hope she doesn’t have to work.”

  “I’m sure … Adrie can get along without her for a few hours.” Nana frowned. “Coming from the city, I still find it so awkward to call everyone by first names. I suppose it’s less formal and more friendly.”

  “People aren’t that friendly here—even with the first names. Quarry thinks Adrie is icebound—that she’s real cold to people.”

  “She does seem rather moody,” Nana agreed, “but she surely loves Wendy.”

  Jill headed down the stairs to place the telephone call and change into her slacks suit. She removed the binoculars from around her neck. “Nana, where did you get these binoculars?”

  “I don’t remember. They were your grandfather’s.” Nana descended the steep stairway behind Jill, sealing the hatch behind her.

  Wendy was standing on the sidewalk when Jill and Nana drove up. “Thanks a million for inviting me,” she said as she climbed into the backseat of the car. “Oh, Aunt Adrie would like you both to stay for supper when we get back. She has something special on the menu. And she has a new chef, too. He’s a foreigner. He doesn’t speak English. But he sure can cook!”

  “Where’s he from?” Jill asked.

  “Spain, I think,” Wendy said. “His name is Max.”

  “Max? That doesn’t sound Spanish. Maybe he’s French. There are a lot of French Canadians in this part of Maine,” Nana suggested. “But on second thought, Max doesn’t sound like a French name, either.”

  On the half-hour drive to Bayswater, Jill and Wendy sang some of the latest songs on the hit parade. “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” and “Tangerine.”

  “You have a nice voice,” Wendy said. “You must take after your father.”

  “No one can compare to my dad,” Jill responded. “But thanks for the compliment. What’s your favorite popular song, Wendy?” she asked. “Mine is ‘I Hear a Rhapsody.’”

  “Doesn’t Drew have that on one of his records?” Nana asked.

  “Yes,” Jill answered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “That’s my favorite too,” Wendy said. “It’s been number one on the hit parade for ten weeks.”

  “What’s your favorite, Nana?”

  “’I’ll Be Seeing You,’” she answered. “But war songs make me cry.”

  “I wonder what songs Daddy will sing on Manhattan Merry-Go-Round Sunday night,” Jill said.

  “I’m coming over to listen with you. That’ll be so exciting. Quarry said he’d come too.” Wendy leaned over the back of Jill’s seat and whispered, “I’m pretty sure he likes me.”

  Jill knew she’d have to tell Wendy that Quarry had invited her to the clambake, but now was not the right time.

  At Bayswater, Nana found a parking space in front of Miller’s Department Store. A sign in the window read NEWEST FASHIONS FROM BOSTON AND NEW YORK. Mannequins in slacks suits with heavily padded shoulders stood stiffly in the show windows. The newest fad, shoulder-strap purses, like those worn by the Women’s Army Corps, hung from their arms.

  “You’re right up-to-date,” Wendy said, pointing to Jill’s slacks. “All you need is one of those purses.”

  Jill hoped Wendy hadn’t noticed the small repair Nana had made in the knee of her trousers.

  The first floor of the store had counters featuring makeup and perfumes. While Nana looked for some night cream for her face, Wendy found a display of sample bottles and began splashing various scents on her wrists. “Mmm, this one is so flowery. It reminds me of Aunt Adrie’s favorite French perfume.” She shoved her wrist under Jill’s nose.

  Jill spotted a golden bottle of Tweed. “This is my mom’s favorite. She squeezed the atomizer, spraying the refreshing fragrance over her neck. With the familiar tangy scent, a sadness and longing for her mother swept over Jill.

  “Come on!” Wendy pulled Jill toward the escalator. After making her purchase, Nana followed them.

  Wendy pointed to the sign that read JUNIOR DEB DEPARTMENT. “I like this place. They refer to us as ‘junior debs,’ I hate it when they call us ‘bobby-soxers.’ It sounds so juvenile.”

  Wendy held up a scoop-necked peasant-style blouse and admired herself in a mirror. “Aunt Adrie gave me twenty dollars to spend on anything I want.” She pulled a flowered skirt from the rack and headed for the dressing room. “I’m going to try these on.”

  “Twenty dollars!” Nana whispered. “Her aunt is so generous with her.”

  “I want to try a peasant outfit too,” Jill said, “but now she’ll think I’m copying her.”

  “If you see something you like, get it. Don’t worry about Wendy.”

  “What would be the right thing to wear to a clambake?” Jill
asked.

  Nana picked out a pair of white cotton pants with blue-and-white-striped cuffs. “These are cute. And they’re called clam diggers. See? They’re longer than shorts, but shorter than slacks. Perfect for a clambake.” She reached for a halter type of top. “Look at this, Jill. One half is red-and-white stripes, and the other blue and white. It matches the pants and it’s just the right colors for the Fourth of July!”

  “Can I try them on?” Jill asked. “Would Daddy let me wear something like this?”

  “Well, he’d better, or he’ll have to answer to me, because I think they’re just fine,” Nana said firmly.

  Jill beamed at her grandmother and took the outfit to the dressing room. She changed quickly and stepped out to the three-way mirror. Wendy was already there, turning and posing in the peasant outfit. A few women stopped to watch her. Wendy could be a model, Jill thought enviously.

  “I’ll take this,” Wendy said to the saleslady who stood nearby.

  Jill took her turn in front the mirror. She looked taller and rather glamorous in the pants and halter. And to think Nana picked this out! It was perfect for a sunny day at the ocean.

  Jill could see Wendy in the reflection, looking her up and down. “Are you wearing that to the clambake?”

  “I think so,” Jill answered.

  Wendy shrugged and went back into the dressing room.

  Jill ended up with the clam digger outfit, a short set, a bathing suit, and a terry-cloth beach robe—plus a pair of white canvas shoes. Canvas shoes with rope soles had become popular since leather was being reserved for servicemen. She and Wendy piled their packages into the trunk of the car, then Nana said, “Let’s go for an ice cream before heading home.”

  The Palace of Sweets was just up the street. White wrought-iron tables and chairs were clustered on the sidewalk and inside the dining area. Behind the counter a girl in a peppermint-striped uniform made sodas for a group of girls sitting on tall stools.

  Jill, Wendy, and Nana found an empty table and ordered sundaes. Jill could see the other girls watching them from the mirror behind the counter. A dark-haired girl cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered something to the others. Jill recognized her from the gesture. They were the ones who had snubbed her on the library steps.

  After a moment of discussion, the three girls slipped off their stools and headed toward Jill’s table.

  “Hi,” said the dark-haired girl. “How are you, Elizabeth? Remember me? I’m Elaine O’Brien. I think you know my mother. She’s the president of the Women’s Club.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” said Nana. “And these are my friends Gloria Brandt and Betty Whitfield.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Nana said. “This is my granddaughter, Jill, and this is Wendy Taylor.”

  “Oh yes, Adrie Dekker’s niece,” said Elaine. Jill noticed Elaine nudged Betty very slightly. “So you’re Drew Winters’s daughter,” Elaine said to Jill. “We have all his records.”

  Jill nodded, and was relieved when the waitress brought the sundaes to their table. She picked up her long spoon and began to scoop the whipped cream and hot fudge.

  “Is your father coming up to Winter Haven this summer?” Gloria asked.

  “Probably, when he’s through with his tour,” Jill mumbled with her mouth full.

  “I hear tell he’s going to be singing on the radio Sunday night,” Elaine said.

  “Where did you hear that?” Jill asked.

  Betty spoke up. “Quarry MacDonald told us.”

  There goes Quarry with his big mouth, Jill thought.

  “My dad’s in the movie business,” Wendy said. Then she looked at Jill and flushed. “I mean he owns a big movie theater in New York.”

  “Jill, we belong to a very exclusive club called the Crystals. We’d love to have you come visit us tomorrow night for a tea,” said Elaine.

  “Then, if everything goes well, we’ll invite you to join us,” Betty explained. “It’d be wonderful to have Drew Winters’s daughter as a member of our crowd. Will you come?”

  Jill could see Wendy’s pleading look. “I suppose I could come, but I’d like to bring Wendy along too.”

  The three girls gazed at Wendy as if debating, then Elaine said, “Well, sure. That would be swell.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait!” Wendy said. “It would be so nice to be part of … well, I’ve heard so much about the Crystals, I can’t believe I’ll finally get to …”

  Betty interrupted. “We’ll have a tea at seven o’clock downstairs in the church hall.”

  “Is the Crystals a church organization?” Nana asked.

  “No, but we’re a charitable group and we do so many good things for the community that Reverend Bailey lets us use the hall for meetings. So you’ll come, Jill?” Elaine asked.

  “We’ll be glad to,” Wendy said eagerly. “It will be fun, won’t it Jill? We’ll both be there.”

  “Mmm, yes,” Elaine murmured. She turned to Jill. “See you tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Jill said. “Bye.”

  “Thank you!” Wendy called.

  The girls walked off. Jill noticed that Elaine looked back once, then whispered something to her friends.

  “I’m so thrilled! We’ve been invited to join the Crystals!” Wendy exclaimed.

  “No, we haven’t,” Jill corrected her. “We’ve been invited to tea to pass inspection. Then we might possibly be invited to join the Crystals.”

  “Naturally we’ll pass inspection,” Wendy said, dipping into her melting sundae. “Why wouldn’t we? After all, you’re Drew Winters’s daughter and I’m your best friend.”

  Supper at the Tearoom Inn

  It was almost six o’clock when Nana parked the car near the inn.

  “You’re coming in, aren’t you?” Wendy asked as she gathered up her shopping bags. “Aunt Adrie insists that you stay for supper. This is her official opening of the restaurant. People will start to come and take rooms for the big celebration on the Fourth—and then for the summer.”

  “Well, I don’t want to disappoint Adrie, and it sounds like she’s expecting us,” Nana said.

  Inside the tearoom, candles were flickering on the tables, which were set with white linen tablecloths and crystal glasses. “How pretty!” Jill exclaimed.

  Adrie bustled in from another room to welcome them. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, taking Wendy’s parcels and putting them in a nearby closet. “There’s something special on the menu tonight. I don’t want to tell—I want to surprise you.” Adrie could be so friendly sometimes, and so snippy other times. Jill again noticed the resemblance to Wendy—that single mischievous dimple in their right cheeks that emerged when they smiled. Adrie led them to a table by the window and held the chair for Nana.

  “Thank you, Adrie,” Nana said, sitting down. “Just look at these carnations and baby’s breath.” Nana gestured to the red-and-white flowers in a slender vase.

  “A friend knew I was opening officially today and sent me a basketful of flowers,” said Adrie. “There were enough for every table.”

  “They’re lovely, and they add so much to your decor,” Nana said. “Who sent them?”

  “I don’t know. There was no card.” Adrie smiled. “The season is starting on a positive note, despite this blasted war. I also have a new cook. Max does magic with what little we can eat, considering the rationing and all.” Adrie started back to the kitchen, then paused. “Wendy, will you give me a hand with the chowder?”

  Wendy followed her aunt through a swinging door.

  “There are only a few other people here,” Nana whispered, looking around.

  “Wendy says the inn will be full by this weekend.”

  “I don’t know when I’ve seen Adrie so pleasant,” Nana commented. “I think she enjoys having Wendy with her.”

  Jill looked out the windows at the boats on their moorings rising and falling in the swells, while a flock of gulls chased a fishing vessel to the docks. It was a nice way to end the da
y, and concerns about homing pigeons and secret messages seemed like a dream—but her worries about her mother were always close in her mind. Sabotage was another concern, since her father flew all over the country on airplanes. What if something happened to both of them? She fingered the monkey charms on her bracelet.

  Wendy returned carrying a tray with three bowls of soup. She placed one at each setting then put the tray on another table. “New England clam chowder,” she said. “A specialty of the house.” She sat down, arranging a napkin on her lap. “Aunt Adrie says I should say that whenever I serve clam chowder,” she whispered.

  “Is this the surprise?” Jill asked.

  “No, that’s coming next. She showed me, but I’m not supposed to tell.”

  The chowder was delicious, chock-full of clams and potatoes and served with hard biscuits. After the soup dishes were removed, Adrie appeared with their supper. What looked like two tiny split chickens were arranged on each plate, with red currant jelly, watercress, and slices of lemon for garnish.

  “Squab!” Adrie announced. “The most delicate, delicious food in the world.” She leaned over to Nana and whispered, “And not one ration stamp needed!” She and Wendy served platters of mashed potatoes and fresh peas. Jill noticed how Adrie’s ruby ring glowed in the candlelight. What kind of a ruby was it? Hadn’t Adrie called it a “rare pigeon’s blood ruby”?

  “Enjoy your meal,” Adrie said as she returned to the kitchen.

  “Such a fancy feast!” Nana held her hands poised over the squab, as if uncertain what to do with it.

  Wendy daintily broke off one of the small legs and held it to her mouth. “It’s okay to eat it this way,” she said. “It’s too small to slice. Besides, no one is watching.”

  Jill stared at the tiny birds on her plate and thought of the pigeon in the garage. She had no appetite for squab—or anything else—now. But when Nana gave her a slight frown, she stabbed one of the birds, plucked out the meat, and reluctantly ate it. It wasn’t as sweet as chicken and had a slightly bitter taste. Jill gulped water to wash it down.

  After a dessert of Boston cream pie, Jill and Nana got up to leave.