Excerpt of Sharing Spaces by Nadia Nichols

LIKE MOST WEDDINGS held at the Inn on Christmas Cove, this one had been in the works for well over a year, but unlike most weddings, this one had been under Senna McCallum's sole charge right from the start. She was personally handling this wedding because Sheila Payson, the bride's mother, had asked her to, and nobody said no to Sheila Payson, who was heir to the Payson dynasty and used to getting her own way in all things. Senna had been working at the inn her mother's sister owned for the past five years, her first two as a sales associate, learning the ropes, and then as head of the sales department, the person who oversaw each and every function and made sure everything down to the smallest detail was perfect. At twenty-nine, Senna had already garnered enough of a reputation to have attracted the attention of Mrs. Payson, which was quite an achievement for someone with a bachelor of science in wildlife biology.

The details had been endless, and the phone calls and visits from the bride and her mother had become more and more frequent, as many as two or three a week as the date drew near. Now that the big day had finally arrived, Senna was relieved. The weather, which was iffy in late June on the Maine coast, was bright and clear.

Fogs could shroud Christmas Cove, creating a damp gray mood not at all conducive to nuptial festivities, or it could be stormy and rainy. But luck was with them, and the dark, sparkling cove with its rugged granite ledge and wind-stunted evergreens had never looked more beautiful.

The ceremony itself was held beneath the arbor in the rose garden and had gone off without any problems. The first hour of the reception before the guests moved into the ballroom for dinner was in full swing to the accompaniment of a string quartet. The wait staff were passing crab cakes with rémoulade, lobster salad in endive spears and chicken satay with peanut sauce. The first and second hors d'oeuvre stations were abundantly supplied with jumbo shrimp, Jonah crab claws, mahogany clams and oysters on the half shell. The reception was progressing more smoothly than Senna had dared hope when the inn's general manager took her aside.

"Senna? You have a call from your mother," Linda Sherwood said, handing her the portable phone.

Senna thanked Linda and moved around the corner of the building for privacy. "Hi Mom, what's up?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," her mother said. She sounded upset, and Senna's grip on the phone tightened. "Your grandfather passed away on Wednesday. His lawyer called a little while ago."

Senna closed her eyes with relief that her brothers were okay. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mom. I wish we'd been closer to him, but —"

"Senna, I know you're busy so I won't beat around the bush," her mother interrupted. "According to the lawyer, the admiral named you as his executor."

"What? Are you sure? Why not Billy or Bryce?"

Senna caught a glimpse of movement. The banquet director hovered nearby, an apologetic look on her face, and tapped the face of her wristwatch. It was time to move the wedding party into the ballroom. Senna nodded that she understood. "Mom, I'm sorry, but I have to go. We're right in the middle of a big wedding. I have tomorrow off so I'll come over right after I get out of work tonight and we can talk in the morning. Love you, and leave the porch light on for me."

Senna stood for a few moments, collecting her thoughts before rejoining the wedding party. It had been five years since she'd last seen her grandfather. A lean, stern man, gruff to the point of being scary and used to being obeyed after a career in the Navy, Senna had always been more than a little afraid of him. Secretly she'd pitied her father, the only child of a man who had probably never dispensed a word of praise or a heart-felt hug in his entire life. Maybe that's why he'd turned out to be so aloof himself. With the admiral as a role model and a mother who'd died when he'd been a boy, what choice did he have? But why on earth would the admiral, a chauvinist to the core, have chosen her over one of his grandsons to settle his estate?

The banquet director sneaked another questioning peek around the corner of the building and Senna drew a deep breath. "I'm coming," she said, and stepped out into 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."