At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,32

what you're talking about," and she let it go at that. Her father had huge black holes in his memory. She didn't know if they were the result of booze or convenience and she didn't much suppose that it mattered. Either way the truth was lost

So many secrets. So many forbidden topics. They were hidden upstairs in the attic, buried in the basement, stashed in closets and under mattresses and behind locked doors.

Don't ask questions. Whatever you do, keep family business inside these four walls.

When she was a little girl, she used to pepper Gramma Del with questions about her mother. Was she pretty? Do I look like her? What did she sound like? Did she love me? Did she sing to me? Would she like me if she met me today? Gramma Del's answers grew shorter and less forthcoming until one day she sat Gracie on her lap and said, "Maybe it's time we let your mother rest, child, and talked about other things." She never answered another of Gracie's questions again and, after a time, Gracie stopped asking. But she never stopped wondering.

Oh, she knew bits and pieces of the story. Idle Point was a small town and people talked. Maybe not as much as Gracie would have liked, but enough for her to piece together part of the picture. They always said, "Poor Ben," when they talked about her mother. Said it with troubled eyes and tight lips then turned away from Ben and Mona's child as if they regretted saying even that much.

"He loved your mother more than a man should love a woman," Gramma Del had said once in a rare moment of indiscretion. Gracie clung to that scrap of insight, examined it from every angle, in every light. The notion of loving too much seemed wildly romantic, like a real-life Wuthering Heights with Heathcliff crying out his anguish to the windswept moors.

Am I like my mother, Gramma? Will I love one man deeply and forever? Or am I like your son? Tell me, Gramma. Tell me what she was like. Did she love Daddy as much as he loved her? Did she whisper his name when she died? Did she love me the way Mrs. Chase loves Noah? After all those years of waiting, did I make her happy?

If only she could tell Gramma Del about Noah and how amazing it was to be loved in return. Of all the dreams she'd ever dreamed since childhood, this was the one she'd never believed would come true.

He's so wonderful, Gramma. You loved him when he was a little boy. I know you'd love him just as much now. You're not working for the Chases any more. What difference does it make if I see their son? He's so good to me, Gramma. He's handsome and kind and he makes me feel like the princess in a fairy tale except I know our story will have a happy ending.

But she didn't say it. Gramma Del was engrossed in Wheel of Fortune and, no matter how hard she tried, Gracie couldn't seem to find the words.

#

Idle Point was a typical small town. News traveled fast and usually it ended up being dissected at the coffee shop next-door to the Gazette. When Noah was little, the men used to gather at Nate's Barber Shop but when Nate went unisex the men moved down the block to the coffee shop in a show of male solidarity. Times changed and nowadays the band of happy gossipers included men and women. The only requirements were a love of caffeine and a juicy story to share.

Ben used to take Noah for pancakes at Patsy's Luncheonette every Saturday morning before he was sent away to boarding school. Ruth would brush Noah's hair and dress him in a soft flannel shirt and jeans, then wave goodbye to the two of them as they drove off down the road. Noah had loved the way all the men stopped talking when he and Simon entered the room. "The boy can't stay away from your blueberry pancakes, Patsy," Simon said every single time as the place erupted in laughter. They all knew the truth. He was there to show off his son, his boy, the apple of his eye, the one who would carry on his name.

As he grew up, Noah began to notice that there was more than simple pride involved in his father's eagerness to show him off. There was a sharp edge to his