East Hope by Katharine Davis

bays, rivers, ponds, coves, harbors, and the arc of blue called Eggemoggin Reach. The coastline curved and wiggled in a million configurations, and tiny islands littered the vast open water like starbursts.
    Mr. Moody tucked the phone number into the file for Caroline. “Vern’s an old codger like me, but he knows what he’s doing. Have him look at the furnace too. Lila had some trouble with it her last winter in the house. I’m afraid that after she got sick she let some things go. Old houses on the water can take a beating.”
    Caroline nodded. She worried that there might be other problems. She had only a little money left from her work on the cookbook. The balance in her checking account was sinking fast. She hoped it would be enough for the painting and repairs. Her plan was to use the money from the sale of Lila’s house to keep her house in Washington for a few more years. “Mr. Moody, I’m so grateful for your help,” she said.
    â€œNonsense. It’s the least I can do for Lila. And call me Hollis, please.”
    â€œI’d be glad to,” she said. Caroline was pleased to find him so helpful. “I understand that you and Lila were good friends,” she said.
    Hollis Moody turned toward the window as if to take in the view. His office was on the second floor of an old house on the main street of the village. It was a cool June day. A ray of sunshine shot across his weathered face. “I miss her greatly,” he said. He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “There’s a lot of history in that house.” He had the hands of a very old man, a relief map of blue veins and bony knuckles.
    â€œAfter Millie, my wife, died I used to stop by for a drink at Lila’s most evenings on my way home. Millie and Lila were close friends. Sometimes I stayed for supper. She was quite a cook.” He turned back to Caroline. His head had an almost imperceptible tremor. She could see that the memory of meals with Lila had cheered him. “She was a real lady, quite an amazing woman—but then, you know that,” he added.
    â€œShe was so good to us years ago. My son, Rob, was a little boy when we visited. My husband wasn’t able to take a vacation that summer—too much work, I guess. I hardly remember.” What she did remember was the relief of escaping Harry’s scrutiny as he watched her for signs of depression, and being able to turn all her attention to Rob, with his little face that blossomed so easily into smiles. “I wish I’d been able to come here more often,” she said.
    â€œThe years do slip by, but no matter.” He studied the backs of his hands. “You’re here now, and that’s what counts.” He leaned back in his chair. “Lila told me you write restaurant reviews.”
    â€œI used to,” she said. “When Rob was little I wrote a family dining-out column, child-friendly sorts of places.” Caroline told Mr. Moody about her writing, her interest in cooking, and her plans for the vegetable book. “Once I get settled, I’d love to have you to dinner.”
    â€œNo need for that. You’ll be a busy gal with the painting and such. I hope you won’t find too many problems.” He lowered his head, then looked up, wrinkling his forehead more. His woolly eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t mind stopping by for a gin and tonic on the porch, though, once the weather warms up.”
    â€œI’d like that,” she said.
    â€œLila always added a sprig of mint, never limes. Mint patch is right by the back door.”
    â€œGin and tonic with mint. Sounds delicious.” She had the sense that there was more he could tell her about Lila and her house, though for now her only concerns were the rotting sills, an ancient furnace, and the much-needed painting. Would she be able to accomplish everything and put the house on the market by August? She wanted to be home