Read Online The Cottage at Glass Beach by Heather Barbieri - Free Book Online Page B

like their grandfather used to wear, a brown hacking jacket, and a faded tweed cap. He must have come from the bluffs around the bend. Annie suspected he might have seen Ronan pass by, but she didn’t dare ask.
    The man’s border collie tore down the embankment, wagging his tail and barking. “Don’t mind Patch. He’s friendly. Happy for the company, no doubt. We don’t get many visitors here,” he said, his voice low, with a hint of a rasp. He was missing a tooth, like Annie. She wondered if the tooth fairy ever paid visits to elderly people. “Where did you two come from?”
    â€œBoston,” Annie said.
    â€œBoston. That’s a long way from here.”
    Patch leaped up and licked Annie’s face. She supposed the dog must have been named for the spot of black over his left eye. “We’re visiting for the summer,” Annie said.
    â€œLike the migrating swallows, eh? You’ve both come for the season. And where might you be staying?”
    â€œAt our great-aunt Maire’s cottage, over there.”
    Ella tugged at her elbow. Annie shook her off. What? Aunt Maire probably knew him anyway, so what was the harm?
    He paused for a moment. “The prodigal daughter returns. . . .”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Ella was clearly trying to make up her mind about him.
    â€œThat it’s been a long time since your mother has been to the island. I remember her well.”
    â€œYou were here then?” Ella asked.
    â€œI’ve lived here my whole life. I’m one of the old-timers. Reilly Neale is my name. Fixing up the boat, are you? Used to be your grandmother’s when she was young—and her father’s before that. How that boat lasted so long, I’ll never know,” he went on. “Must have put a good finish on it. Wish I knew what they used.”
    â€œMaybe it’s magic,” Annie said.
    â€œMaybe.” His eyes crinkled. “I could get it seaworthy, if you promise to keep to the cove and not to get into too much mischief. Got materials at home for the job.”
    Annie looked at her older sister. They could certainly use expert advice.
    â€œYou know something about boats?” Ella asked.
    â€œKnow something about boats? Been sailing since I could walk. Would be still, if my sight weren’t going.”
    â€œAll right,” Ella said. “You’re hired.”
    â€œWe can’t pay much,” Annie warned, not wanting to mislead him.
    He laughed. “Consider it a donation to the cause. I’ll be back shortly,” he said. “I live on the other side of the point.”
    R eilly returned within a half hour, bearing not only caulking and varnish but potato and cheese pies, cookies, three cups, and a flask of lemonade, which he’d tucked into a carrier fastened to Patch’s back. “Thought you might like to have a picnic after we’re done working.” He sat down on a piece of driftwood with a wince. He smelled strongly of cigarettes, but he didn’t smoke in front of them. “It’s the arthritis,” he said. He walked with a hitch, he told them, due to a fishing accident and an accumulation of misfortunes. “Things start to wear out when you’re old.”
    â€œHow old are you?” Ella asked.
    â€œEighty-five, this July.”
    â€œThat is old,” Annie said.
    â€œSpoken with the unflinching honesty of youth.” He gave each of them a putty knife and held out a tin of thick brown goo. “Spread this on the seams. Not too thick. No need to frost it like a cake.”
    â€œWill there be a party and cake for your birthday?” Annie asked.
    â€œProbably not.”
    â€œSure, there will. Your family—”
    â€œMy family left years ago.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He paused. “It was right before your grandmother disappeared. There’s no use dressing it up. The truth is, I used to drink too much in those days,