Free Summer Friends by Holly Chamberlin Page A

was originally from Connecticut but had lived in Ogunquit for twenty-five years, ever since she had married Jim Larkin, a native of Norridgewock, Maine. Some people still considered Jemima as “from away,” but in her own mind, which was all that counted with Jemima, she was a genuine Mainer. Jemima had three children. The oldest, a young man named Kurt, whose father was her first husband, was “on the road” at the moment, and that’s pretty much all anyone knew. Occasionally, Jemima would receive a postcard informing her that he was alive, well, and currently in Alaska or Montana or Florida. The second child, a boy named Jake, was studying at the University of Southern Maine. Sarah, the youngest, was in high school and lived at home. Recently she had informed her parents that she wanted to go to college in California. “Roaming must be in their genes,” Jemima had told Delphine, with a sad shake of her head. “Some ancestor of mine was probably a pioneer.”
    After Jemima had put the plate of corn muffins in the kitchen, she returned to the living room just in time to witness Maggie pulling up to the house and parking next to her own thirteen-year-old Mazda. It was missing three hubcaps and part of the front fender had been eaten away by rust.
    â€œWell, will you look at that car?” Jemima frowned, as if offended by the obvious display of wealth. “That must have cost a pretty penny.”
    â€œA lot of pretty pennies,” Delphine said. “But I guess she can afford it. She has a big job in Boston.”
    Jemima murmured what sounded an awful lot like, “Big deal.”
    Maggie got out of the car carrying a large bouquet of flowers—lush pink peonies—wrapped in shiny cellophane. She paused for a moment to look up at the house. She was wearing a pair of slim-fitting tan Capri pants and a navy cropped blazer over a white T-shirt. Her flats and her bag were navy patent leather. Delphine couldn’t help but survey her own clothing, thrown on without thought at the crack of dawn, clean, but not ready for prime time.
    â€œI’ll get the door,” she said, before Maggie had time to knock. “Hey,” she said. “I see my directions were clear.”
    â€œPerfectly.” Maggie stepped inside and offered the bouquet to Delphine. “These are for you. I had no idea what your décor would be like, so I thought flowers would be a safe bet. But I guess I didn’t think it through. You have such a lovely garden right out front.”
    Delphine took the bouquet. It was from the most expensive florist in town. “Thanks,” she said. “I love flowers so—”
    Maggie suddenly spotted Melchior. “Oh, my God,” she said, her hand to her heart, “that cat is huge.”
    â€œHis name is Melchior.”
    â€œAppropriate,” Maggie said, as Melchior stood, stretched, and turned his back on the women.
    Delphine smiled. “I forgot you’re not a big fan of animals.”
    â€œNo, I guess I’m not,” Maggie admitted. “I remember that massive dog you had years ago, when we were just kids. What was his name? I practically fainted the first time I saw him. He was up to my shoulder. Well, almost.”
    â€œLongfellow. My father named him after the poet. Longfellow was big,” she told Jemima, “a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, but he had the sweetest nature. I remember Joey teasing Maggie about being afraid of being in the same room with him. Anyway, Jemima, this is Maggie Weldon Wilkes.”
    Maggie reached out to shake Jemima’s hand. Jemima hesitated, and then responded with a bone-crunching grasp and one hearty pump that made Maggie wince.
    â€œSo,” Jemima said by way of greeting, “you don’t have pets?”
    Maggie shook her head. “No. I didn’t grow up with pets. My mother didn’t like the mess they made. When my girls were little they wanted a dog, but