Sharing Spaces. Nadia Nichols

the golden sunlight. The scents of rugosa roses, freshly mown grass and the salt air mingled with the tantalizing aroma of foods. Servers in black and white circulated among the guests, carrying silver champagne and hors d’oeuvre trays, and the strains of the string quartet gave the afternoon an elegant, romantic mood.

      Senna’s practiced eye took in the dynamics of the reception and was satisfied with what she saw. Everything was going exactly according to plan. She approached the bride, who was radiant in her satin Reem Acra gown, and touched her arm gently. “Excuse me, Sophia,” she said, “but we’ll be moving into the ballroom shortly. It’s time for everyone to be seated.”

      FIVE LONG HOURS LATER, just after eleven, she arrived at her mother’s house in Castine. The lights were on in the kitchen and her mother was up, waiting for her. She opened the door in her flannel nightgown and bathrobe, her hair plaited in a long braid over one shoulder. “You must be exhausted,” she said.

      “It’s been a long day,” Senna admitted, relishing the feeling of coming home. She no longer lived here and hadn’t since she went away to college, but the old homestead had been in her mother’s family for over two hundred years. There was something about the place that always made her feel comfortable and safe. The kitchen was just the way she remembered it as a young child, when Gram and Gramp were still alive. Her mother had kept the teakettle on the back of the wood cookstove, and she poured two cups. They sat at the table together and nibbled on gingersnap cookies.

      “So, tell me everything you know,” Senna said.

      Her mother sighed. “That’s not much, I’m afraid. Your grandfather died in Labrador. He was living near a place called North West River. Apparently he was diagnosed with cancer a year ago and the doctors didn’t expect him to live this long.”

      Senna took a sip of tea and sighed, easing a cramp between her shoulder blades. “Labrador. You’d think he would have named an executor who lived in the area, and one who was a little bit closer to him.”

      “The funeral was held today and the admiral is being cremated, per his wishes. The lawyer would have called you directly with all of this information but the only phone number he had was this one.”

      Senna took another sip of tea. It was strong and good. She was tired to the point of feeling dizzy. “I’ll call him first thing Monday morning.”

      “There’s property that will have to be disposed of,” her mother said.

      “What kind of property?”

      “The lawyer mentioned a house, a vehicle, an airplane and a fishing camp.”

      Senna frowned over the curl of steam that rose from her mug. “Maybe he’d sell it all for a consignment fee. He could mail or fax me all the legal forms I need to sign, I could notarize them and send them back….”

      “You’d better go and look the situation over so you know exactly what the estate consists of before making any decisions,” her mother advised.

      Senna shook her head. “Mom, I don’t think I can get away from work. We’re just getting into the busy season.”

      “You haven’t taken a vacation in several years,” her mother pointed out. “Labrador sounds like a wild place, and you like wild places, Senna. I’m sure your aunt would let you have some time off.”

      “Yes, she would, but that wouldn’t be much of a vacation. Are you sure the admiral wasn’t married?”

      “Positive. He called it quits after wife number three. If you took two weeks off, you’d have time to explore some of the country and time to think about some important things, like your future with Tim, and your job as sales director at the inn.”

      Senna lifted her chin out of her palm and blinked the sleep from her eyes. “What makes you think I need to do that?”

      “I’m your mother. I know how much you miss being a wildlife biologist, and I know you aren’t in love with Tim Cromwell even though he’s hopelessly in love with you and has been for years.”

      Senna gazed at her, amazed. “As a matter of fact, Tim and I broke up a few weeks ago. We’re still friends and probably always will be, but you’re right. I wasn’t in love with him.”

      Her mother’s eyebrows raised. “How did Tim feel about that?”

      “He took it pretty hard. He still thinks I’ll eventually realize that he’s the man for me. Tim’s a good guy and he deserves to have a woman who’s crazy about him. He’ll be a lot better off without me. And yes, I miss being a biologist, but I like working at the inn. I’ve learned a lot, and the pay is a lot better than what I was making working for the state.”

      Her mother wisely refrained from commenting. She took a sip of tea and continued, “The lawyer told me your grandfather’s been living in Labrador ever since he retired from the Navy shortly after your father died.”

      “Why Labrador?”

      “Apparently he was big into fishing, and the fishing’s quite good there.”

      “Fishing.” Senna dropped her chin back into her palm with a sigh. “That figures. The old sea wolf couldn’t stay away from the water.”

      Her mother stirred another dollop of honey into her tea. “Senna, the admiral’s last request was that you handle his estate, and I think you should honor it. You are a McCallum, after all.”

      THE JOURNEY FROM CASTINE to Labrador was a circuitous one at best, and expensive to boot. From Bangor, Senna flew to Quebec City, from Quebec City to Wabush, from Wabush to Goose Bay. It didn’t seem too difficult to connect the dots, but flights to Goose Bay weren’t like flights to Boston. One didn’t have many choices, so she had to lay over a night in Quebec before catching the flights to Wabush and Goose Bay. Arriving at 2:00 p.m., she immediately phoned the lawyer to find out where her grandfather’s house was located. There was no point in racking up more expenses at a hotel if she could stay there while she got his affairs in order. Two weeks was two weeks, though with any luck she’d have everything done in half that time.

      “Well, m’dear,” the lawyer, an older-sounding gentleman whose name was Lindo Granville, said upon hearing her out. “The thing is, your grandfather’s house isn’t exactly in Goose Bay, y’see?”

      Senna tried to place the accent, which sounded very Celtic. “Well, if you could tell me how to get there, I could stop by your office for the key.”

      “Key? I doubt the place is locked up, m’dear. Do you have a car? I’d be happy to drive you over if you don’t.”

      “I’ve already rented one, thank you. I’m at the airport now. I thought I’d stop by your office first, if that’s all right. I’d like to start settling my grandfather’s estate as soon as possible.”

      Lindo Granville was as pleasant in person as he’d been on the phone. He was a ruddy-faced man in his late sixties who looked as if he’d spent much of his life out of doors, not ensconced in an office pushing papers around his desk. He invited Senna in, poured her a cup of strong, black tea, finally found what he was looking for on his cluttered desk, and handed her the admiral’s last will and testament. “It’s up to date, he was in town just last week,” Granville said. “We had lunch together and he made a few amendments prior to that.”

      “He must have known he was going to die soon,” Senna said, steeling herself as she looked down at the legal papers.

      “Yes.” Granville nodded. “Didn’t feel the least bit sorry for himself, though. He was more worried about his business partner.”

      “Business partner?” Senna glanced up. This was a new twist.

      “John Hanson. They were good friends. Hanson stayed with him ’til the very end, so’s the admiral could die at the lake house. He didn’t want to die in a hospital, y’see, and I don’t blame him one bit for that, but he needed a lot of care towards the end. You’ll meet John Hanson by