Patterns in the Sand Read Online Free

mountains.”
     
     
“There aren’t too many of those in Sea Harbor,” Izzy said.
     
     
Brendan laughed. “I’ll adapt. I’m not here forever.”
     
     
“Well, even though we are down here at sea level, your painting of Canary Cove is lovely,” Birdie said. “And a wonderful depiction of our festive Art at Night gathering.”
     
     
Opening the studios, galleries, and small restaurants to the whole town one Sunday night a month was Aidan, Jane, and Ham’s brainchild. Festive and upbeat, townspeople and vacationers alike packed the narrow streets and shops on the open-studio night—a perfect summer pastime—and a boon to the artists in the neighborhood.
     
     
“You’re all coming, right?”
     
     
“Are you kidding, Jane? We wouldn’t miss it,” Izzy said. “Not to slight the rest of you, but I’ve become addicted to Rebecca Marks’ handblown beads. They’re amazing . . . and Ellen Marks tell me they’re having a special sale every Art at Night.”
     
     
“Rebecca is terrific,” Cass said. “Or at least her art is. She can be kind of a pill. But I must admit I’ve bought more than my share of her beads—they’re miniature works of art.”
     
     
The magical glass beads had received several awards recently, and Nell found herself nodding in agreement. In just one year, the Lampworks Gallery had become a favorite Canary Cove studio. Rebecca was the artist and Ellen managed the shop, handling the business end. Nell sometimes felt sorry for Ellen for having to deal with the flamboyant, temperamental Rebecca, but she seemed to have infinite patience when it came to her younger sister.
     
     
“Seems they’re doing some remodeling over there, too,” Ham said. “Ellen tells me that Rebecca wants skylights. They pass your code, Peabody?”
     
     
Aidan passed up the truffles Nell passed around a second time and he sat back down at the edge of the deck chair. “It’s ridiculous,” he muttered, looking down at the floor.
     
     
The sharpness in Aidan’s voice went unchallenged, and Nell suggested a final call for seconds on dessert. She didn’t want the conversation to hover around Rebecca and Ellen Marks. Aidan had dated Rebecca for a short while, recently calling it quits. The fact that the Lampworks artist hadn’t come with him tonight added near certainty to the rumors. It was a short-lived romance, Nell thought, and perhaps explained Aidan’s sharp tone. But whatever the reason, though an evening on the Endicotts’ deck often stirred spirited conversation, Nell insisted it end peacefully.
     
     
Reading his wife’s thoughts, Ben walked through the group with two brandy snifters balanced between his fingers and a carafe in the other hand. “And on a more pleasant topic, brandy, anyone?”
     
     
Aidan rested his elbows on his knees, a crooked smile on his face, and reached out for a glass. “A half inch, perhaps. You know my weakness, Ben.”
     
     
“Well, one of them, anyway.” He smiled at his friend and poured the amber liquid into the snifter bowl.
     
     
“Speaking of weakness,” Ham said, blunt fingers smoothing his beard, “I’ve got to find me a bed. Saturdays are busy days in the cove.” He pulled himself out of his chair and reached a hand down to his wife. “Come, Janie, dear. Your chariot awaits. And Brendan, you, too. You’re on early duty at Sobel’s tomorrow—want a lift?”
     
     
Brendan stood and yawned. “Sounds like a plan.”
     
     
Aidan began unfolding his lanky body from the chair. “It’s contagious. I guess I ought to move along, too.”
     
     
Nell watched her old friends with affection. Ham and Jane had been fixtures in Sea Harbor since a rock concert drew them to Boston from Berkeley in the early seventies. A side visit to Sea Harbor changed their lives. They fell in love with the winding coast, the sleepy village, and the rock formations, and they never left.
     
     
Aidan Peabody came along a while later, a decade after the Brewsters. He bought up some prime real estate on the shore, right