Page 7 of Hibiscus Heights (Crown Island #4)

“ W hat’s in this box?” As Grant lifted a carton in his father’s study, he sneezed at the dust.

His mother glanced back at him and shook her head. “I have no idea,” Kitty replied, picking up a gold filigree earring that had tumbled to the floor.

Smudges stained his mother’s usually pristine starched shirt, and strands of silver hair had escaped her clasp.

All morning, they had been sorting items into piles. Small piles to keep or give away and a larger one to donate. She had already consigned more valuable items, so there were blank spaces throughout the house.

This box was heavier than Grant expected. When he opened it, he saw that it was filled with old photo albums and loose photographs in faded color and black and white. His father’s love of photography had inspired Grant’s career from a young age.

His childhood home now seemed cavernous. Decades ago, his parents had built this sprawling estate in Tiburon, just north of San Francisco. Now, their footsteps echoed in rooms that had once bustled with family gatherings.

“Jock kept everything,” Kitty said. Her voice held love but also a trace of exasperation.

More than a year after his death, she was still sorting through her husband’s personal effects.

Grant could see that determining what to keep for the next phase of her life was nearly overwhelming for her. Yet, she plodded through with her usual perseverance.

She held up a faded photograph and smiled. “Look at this one. What good times we had on Crown Island. I hope your sister is enjoying herself. She did so much to help me around here.”

“Hey, I remember when this photo was taken,” Grant said.

In the faded image, the four of them stood at the railing of a red ferry. He and his sister were just kids, grinning with excitement. Their parents stood behind them, looking young and glamorous, even in their beachwear.

Kitty perched on the edge of his father’s favorite leather club chair. “What magical times we had on Crown Island. Some of my fondest memories are there.”

She started to say something else but stopped.

“What’s up, Mom?”

Kitty sighed and shook her head. “This house and all the contents are so much more than I need. I want to make a real change.”

“Those condos you’ve been talking about seem right for you.”

Kitty shrugged. “Now that I think about it, a little square box of white walls will be awfully dull. Where would I put all your nature photographs?”

Grant made a good living doing what he loved. “You’ll make it your own. Should be easy to keep clean, though.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you ever saw me clean a house? I plan to die without ever having to scrub a toilet or mop floors again. I did plenty of that when I was young.”

Grant’s parents had started their life together on a modest budget before Jock founded what became a successful company.

As Kitty rested, she traced the edge of the photograph. “We’d stay at the Majestic when we wanted to be pampered. Sometimes we’d rent a beach house near the marina when we wanted to feel like locals.”

“You mean, when you could find a housekeeper.” Grant grinned at his mother.

“Well, of course,” she said. “What’s a vacation if you’re the one washing and cleaning and working harder than you do at home?”

“You have a point.”

“And your father indulged me, thank goodness. I wasn’t naturally domestic.”

“You helped him build the business.” They’d built a toy manufacturing company before selling it.

Her eyes brightened at the memory. “What fun we had doing that. Long hours, hard work, but it sure paid off.”

Grant smiled at his mother. Even today, she had a housekeeper who dusted the same shelves every week. Kitty kept her on for company and planned to give her a generous retirement package when the house sold.

“You had fun along the way. I remember Dad teaching us how to sail in the harbor. You made us wear life vests even when we thought we were too old for them.” Grant chuckled. “Now I do the same.”

His mother put a hand to her heart. “You two would tear around on bikes like demons, dive off the rocks, and surf when the waves were high.” Her smile grew wistful. “Then, when you were older, you stayed out late at beach bonfires.”

“I loved doing that.” Grant recalled lazy afternoons that stretched into nights studded with thousands of stars. Time moved at a different pace there.

“Your father always thought we’d return when you had children of your own.” Kitty’s voice cracked a little. “He looked forward to teaching his grandchildren to sail.”

Grant shook his head, remembering how illness overcame his father, robbing them of many good years. “We all thought we’d have more time with him.”

The silence stretched between them. He resumed packing, needing the distraction of physical activity to help him cope.

In the corner of the room, he spotted his father’s prized collection of vintage albums and 78 rpm records. Collectors would love those.

“What about Dad’s music collection?”

Kitty looked over. “Take whatever you want. He’d love to know you appreciated those old recordings. We haunted antique shops for years in search of those. He loved the chase.”

“I know how he felt. That’s like finding just the right vantage point and light.” Grant would chase the sun if he had to.

He ran his fingers along the album covers from bygone eras, recognizing the careful organization his father had maintained. Big band, swing, jazz, some classical. He pulled out a Glenn Miller record, the cover worn from years of handling.

“We loved that one,” Kitty said, standing to join him. “He played it constantly when we were first married. We’d dance in front of the fireplace for hours.”

On impulse, Grant changed his mind about getting rid of the old records. “Would you mind if I took this entire collection?”

“He would love knowing that. Jock always said music should be played, not just preserved. I haven’t listened to those in years.”

“Then let’s change that.”

Grant placed the record on the old turntable that still occupied a place of honor in a polished wooden cabinet. He turned it on, lifted the arm, and placed it on the grooves. The scratchy notes of “In the Mood” filled the room.

Suddenly, his mother was smiling again, and she extended her hands to him. “Your father never let a Glenn Miller song play without dancing. Come dance with me like you did when you were little.”

He chuckled at that memory. “I hope I’m a little better now.”

They swayed around the living room, Grant spinning his mother the way he’d watched his father do countless times. Kitty’s infectious laughter bubbled up until they were both laughing and crying together.

When the song ended, Grant held his mother close. “I’m sorry he’s gone, Mom.”

After hugging him, she pulled back and drew her hand along his cheek. “I wish you didn’t know how I feel.”

“Me, too. How about some tea?”

“I’ll make it,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

As she went to make tea, Grant pulled out another record. “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday.

He would listen to that one later when he was alone.

A few minutes later, the kettle whistled in the kitchen. Grant made his way there and carried the tea tray to the breakfast room.

They sat down, and he poured tea for his mother.

As he did, Kitty gazed at the high ceilings and expansive windows overlooking the bay. “Would you like to keep this house for your family?”

“You’ve asked me that before, Mom. It’s more house than I want to care for. The boys will be off to university in ten years, and I’ll be in your situation.”

“Not if you find another partner.”

He let the question hang in the air. With his work, Grant could be anywhere.

Geography wasn’t a constraint as long as the boys liked their school.

However, they’d had trouble adjusting these last few years.

On top of their grief, they had been bullied.

He’d been called to the school often to deal with the situation.

“Will you at least consider it?” she asked again.

This house held forty years of memories of holiday gatherings and birthday parties. It was hard for Grant to see it go, too.

“You and Dad entertained a lot, with people visiting for weeks on end.”

Kitty sipped her tea, looking thoughtful. “We loved doing that. But our siblings are gone now, and your cousins live around the world. They’re all too busy to visit.”

“Times change,” Grant said. How well he knew that.

Kitty put her cup down. “I’ve been thinking that we could surprise your sister on Crown Island and spread your father’s ashes on the waves. He loved sailing those waters even more than the San Francisco Bay.”

“But we have a lot to do here.”

“All this can wait,” Kitty said, waving her hand. “Jock was happiest on the island, with all of us together and hardly a care in the world.”

Grant tried to imagine returning to Crown Island after all these years and saying goodbye to his father.

“It’s been a long time,” he said quietly.

“That’s exactly why we should go.” Kitty stared through the windows as if looking into the future.

“Or we can look at some photos.” Grant rose to retrieve the photo album they’d been looking at from the desk. As he did, a small photo slipped out, and he bent to retrieve it.

He caught his breath at the image of someone he used to know. Quickly, he pocketed the photo.

While his mother gazed ahead, Grant looked back. A tiny spark he hadn’t felt in years flared within him.

Kitty pushed her cup away. “Let’s get out and have lunch at that cafe on Main Street you like so much.”

“Sounds good to me.”

After freshening up, they drove the short distance to the town center of Tiburon and past the impressive silver sails sculpture, Coming About .

“Would you stop over there first?” His mother motioned toward a private postal shop. “I’d like to pick up the mail while we’re here.”

“I’ll get that for you.” He pulled his SUV to the curb and stepped out onto the sidewalk of the charming village. His parents had traveled extensively, so they’d retained a private mailbox for mail delivery.

A woman at the counter looked up. “Good to see you, Grant. How’s your mother?”

“She’s feeling better, thanks for asking. We’re off to lunch at Sheri’s Cafe.”

“It’s a sweet day to sit outside. I just put mail in her box.”

Using the key his mother gave him, he opened a small door on a bank of brass mailboxes. He brought out a few pieces of mail and a couple of magazines.

One caught his eye. What a coincidence , he thought. He started back to the car and opened the door.

“Here’s your mail. And check out that magazine.”

Kitty picked up the glossy periodical and opened it. “The Majestic Hotel. Such a lovely place. This is another sign that we should visit.”

Grant grinned at her. Like the small, steady stream that cut its way through mountains, his mother would eventually have her way.

He touched the photo in his pocket like a talisman. “I’ll check airline tickets after lunch.”

His mother beamed with long overdue happiness. “Who knows what good trouble we’ll get into? I’ll pack Jock right away. He would be so pleased.”