broke his left ankle. Poor baby." She looked up at Molly with round green eyes while passengers moved around them toward the baggage claim. "God, you're tall! Billy said you were, of course, but I didn't know he meant
really
tall." She giggled. "And such blue eyes. I love your long hair. Do you ever do French braids? I'll fix your hair for you tomorrow, if you like."
Relieved that Bill was still alive, Molly ignored the comments about her appearance. Jen always said people shouldn't make personal remarks. Maybe people in California didn't worry about such old-fashioned things as manners. "So is Dad in a cast?" she asked.
"You can be the very first person to sign it. We were at the hospital for
ages
today. I'm telling you, they know how to give lessons in patience there. But now Billy's lying home in bed, waiting to see you. We'd no sooner got back from the hospital than it was time for me to leave for the airport."
"But is Dad all right?" Molly asked. "Can he walk with crutches?" They started moving along with the crowd, heading toward the baggage claim to pick up Molly's suitcases.
"Oh, he'll be able to hobble around, my poor Billy. But probably not tonight. The doctor gave him some sort of really strong painkiller, and it has kind of knocked him out. I mean, he wasn't in any condition to drive all the way down to Bangor, and he might be asleep by the time we get home. But he's
ecstatic
that you're coming to stay." She reached over and squeezed Molly's arm. "And so am I."
"Poor Dad," said Molly. She realized she'd never seen Bill sick or injured. "Well, I'll help take down the rest of the wallpaper," she told Paulette. "That's something I can do."
"That'll be
super,
" said Paulette. "You'll be able to reach almost as high as Billy. But we don't want you to work too much while you're here. After your horrible accident, you probably need some R and R. That's rest and relaxation. We want you to have fun."
"Thanks." Molly saw her blue suitcases drop from the conveyor belt onto the baggage carousel and moved forward to pick them up. She noticed the old man standing with the dour woman and waved to them. The man looked confused. The woman moved closer to the conveyor belt, searching for their bags.
"Here, let me help you," said Paulette, reaching for one of Molly's suitcases.
"No, I'm fine."
"Well, give me the backpack, then," she said and giggled. "I may be tiny compared to you, but I'm strong as a packhorse. At least that's what Billy says, and he knows
everything
about me!"
Spare me the details, please.
Molly followed Paulette out to the parking lot. Paulette took her keys out of her back pocket and unlocked the side door of a blue van.
"Here we are," she said, shoving aside rolls of wallpaper. Molly lifted her suitcases inside next to several gallon-size cans of paint. "Let's hit the road." Paulette dropped Molly's backpack inside and slammed the door. "It's a long drive, and I know you want to see your dad as soon as you can."
Molly sat in front next to Paulette. They drove away from the Bangor airport and headed northeast, up toward the coast. "Did you look Hibben up on a map?" asked Paulette. "You probably couldn't find it! We're way out on the edge of
nowhere.
"
"Dad said it was pretty remote."
"Well, there's a new tourist trade just getting started, and we're hoping that our inn will get going just in time to take advantage of it. You know, all the rich people down eastâthat's what they call the south of Maine and New England, tooâthey've pretty well taken over places like Kennebunkport. It's getting crowded down there. That is, crowded for Maine. So tourists are starting to build summer homes up in the little fishing villages, and lots of guest houses and hotels are springing up. We're hoping to be part of this trend. If our timing is right, we'll do really well. The villagers have mixed feelings, I think. They don't like the peace disturbed, but they're sure happy enough about all the money
really
tall." She giggled. "And such blue eyes. I love your long hair. Do you ever do French braids? I'll fix your hair for you tomorrow, if you like."
Relieved that Bill was still alive, Molly ignored the comments about her appearance. Jen always said people shouldn't make personal remarks. Maybe people in California didn't worry about such old-fashioned things as manners. "So is Dad in a cast?" she asked.
"You can be the very first person to sign it. We were at the hospital for
ages
today. I'm telling you, they know how to give lessons in patience there. But now Billy's lying home in bed, waiting to see you. We'd no sooner got back from the hospital than it was time for me to leave for the airport."
"But is Dad all right?" Molly asked. "Can he walk with crutches?" They started moving along with the crowd, heading toward the baggage claim to pick up Molly's suitcases.
"Oh, he'll be able to hobble around, my poor Billy. But probably not tonight. The doctor gave him some sort of really strong painkiller, and it has kind of knocked him out. I mean, he wasn't in any condition to drive all the way down to Bangor, and he might be asleep by the time we get home. But he's
ecstatic
that you're coming to stay." She reached over and squeezed Molly's arm. "And so am I."
"Poor Dad," said Molly. She realized she'd never seen Bill sick or injured. "Well, I'll help take down the rest of the wallpaper," she told Paulette. "That's something I can do."
"That'll be
super,
" said Paulette. "You'll be able to reach almost as high as Billy. But we don't want you to work too much while you're here. After your horrible accident, you probably need some R and R. That's rest and relaxation. We want you to have fun."
"Thanks." Molly saw her blue suitcases drop from the conveyor belt onto the baggage carousel and moved forward to pick them up. She noticed the old man standing with the dour woman and waved to them. The man looked confused. The woman moved closer to the conveyor belt, searching for their bags.
"Here, let me help you," said Paulette, reaching for one of Molly's suitcases.
"No, I'm fine."
"Well, give me the backpack, then," she said and giggled. "I may be tiny compared to you, but I'm strong as a packhorse. At least that's what Billy says, and he knows
everything
about me!"
Spare me the details, please.
Molly followed Paulette out to the parking lot. Paulette took her keys out of her back pocket and unlocked the side door of a blue van.
"Here we are," she said, shoving aside rolls of wallpaper. Molly lifted her suitcases inside next to several gallon-size cans of paint. "Let's hit the road." Paulette dropped Molly's backpack inside and slammed the door. "It's a long drive, and I know you want to see your dad as soon as you can."
Molly sat in front next to Paulette. They drove away from the Bangor airport and headed northeast, up toward the coast. "Did you look Hibben up on a map?" asked Paulette. "You probably couldn't find it! We're way out on the edge of
nowhere.
"
"Dad said it was pretty remote."
"Well, there's a new tourist trade just getting started, and we're hoping that our inn will get going just in time to take advantage of it. You know, all the rich people down eastâthat's what they call the south of Maine and New England, tooâthey've pretty well taken over places like Kennebunkport. It's getting crowded down there. That is, crowded for Maine. So tourists are starting to build summer homes up in the little fishing villages, and lots of guest houses and hotels are springing up. We're hoping to be part of this trend. If our timing is right, we'll do really well. The villagers have mixed feelings, I think. They don't like the peace disturbed, but they're sure happy enough about all the money
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