Chapter 17

Marty frowned at the slim envelope she'd just picked up from the local pharmacy, which had a photo printing component in the building. Her collection of honeymoon photos seemed even thinner in her hand than they had when she was looking at them digitally.

She knew that actually getting photos developed wasn't terribly common these days, when everyone kept their photography collections on their phones, but for an event as significant as her honeymoon she'd wanted to get a physical album, one that she could tuck away on the shelves and pull out one day to show her kids, or even her grandkids. Growing up, she'd loved perusing her parents' and Grandma Abby's wedding albums, marveling at the out-of-date fashions and how young and happy her parents and grandparents had looked.

The scant collection she had in front of her wasn't enough to make an album, however. There was really only one nice shot from before she and Wyatt had gotten sick, the one they'd taken immediately upon arrival. They were rumpled and looked tired in the photo, but they also looked excited and anticipatory.

"You guys don't know what you're in for," Marty told the photo glumly. Peaches, hearing her mother's tone of voice, let out a concerned mrrp from the floor, then jumped to Marty's lap and began to make biscuits against her leg.

"I know, I know," Marty told that fluffy orange head, which was bent in concentration over the movement of her paws. "I've been trying not to feel sorry for myself. I think I've been doing a pretty good job too! But I'm just going to feel sorry for myself for two minutes or so, and then I'll go back to having a good attitude."

Peaches kneaded even harder as Marty indulged in a bit of a sulk over how her dream vacation got lost in a sea of tissues, cold medicine, and fevers. After a few minutes, she found that she did feel in better spirits about it, as if her bad attitude were something she needed to let happen in order to get through.

"Okay." She looked down at Peaches, who had finally curled up for a snooze on her legs. "You're right. Let's look on the bright side. The wedding photos are amazing, and we'll always have those."

Peaches, already deep asleep, ignored her.

Marty was rifling through the small stack of photographs with a less critical gaze when her phone rang, the sharp sound startling Peaches awake. The cat gave the device an indignant look before stalking off to find a more restful place to nap.

Chuckling and feeling grateful that she could always count on her feline companions to elevate her bad mood, she picked up the phone.

"Hey, sis," she said after spying her sister's name on the Caller ID. "What's up?"

"Hey," Darla responded. "I was just calling to ask if you're up to anything today."

Marty looked at the sad little pile of photos. "Nothing that can't wait. Why, do you need something?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to come over."

Marty waited for her sister to add more, but Darla didn't. That was… strange. Not that the sisters needed an excuse to spend time together, but usually Darla would say she wanted to hang out or run errands, or that she had some other task in mind.

Darla, Marty mused, had been acting strange recently. Not like something was wrong, necessarily, but strange.

"Um, yeah, I can do that," Marty said when the silence stretched a beat too long. "For something specific? I'm just asking so that I can think about plans for dinner and all that," she hastened to add, since she didn't want Darla to feel like her invitation was unwelcome.

"Oh, right," Darla said. "Um, just for a little while. It won't take long."

And then, once again, she fell silent.

Weird. So weird.

Marty was beginning to expect that her sister was keeping something from her, was building up to telling her something big. At first, she'd worried it was something bad, like that Darla and Rick were planning to leave Whale Harbor. But then she'd realized that both her sister and brother-in-law's businesses tied them to the town, so it couldn't be that.

Then she'd started to wonder if it might be something good, like that Darla and Rick were expecting a baby. She was trying not to get her hopes up too much, however… and she didn't want to be accused of meddling, not when their mother was lovingly, but persistently, mentioning grandbabies whenever she could.

Still, Marty loved her sister and didn't want to cause her any undue stress.

"Yeah, that sounds great," she said into the strange silence that hung over the phone line. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes?"

"Perfect," Darla breathed, sounding extremely relieved. "See you then."

And then she hung up the phone before Marty could get another word in edgewise.

"Odd," Marty told Bertram, who had poked his nose into the room. "Your Aunt Darla is acting very, very odd."

It was thus curiosity just as much as it was her promise to her sister that caused Marty to put on her shoes and jacket quickly and drive over to her sister's house.

When she reached Darla's house, she was surprised to see Lori's car parked in the driveway as well as her sister's.

"The plot thickens," she muttered to herself as she put the car in park and got out. She'd long since had a key to her sister's house, so, since Darla knew she was coming, she let herself in the front door, although she did call a hello from the front hall, to alert anyone in the house to her arrival.

"Darla? Mom?" she called, kicking off her sneakers and putting them on the shoe rack. "Are you guys here?"

To her utter surprise, it wasn't either Darla or her mother who emerged in response to her call…

It was Wyatt.

"Uh, hi," she said, totally confused, as her husband came up and gave her a kiss of greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he said with a mischievous smile, "I'm afraid that Darla has lured you here under false pretenses."

"Good line." Lori's voice came from around the corner to the living room at a volume that the older woman probably thought was a lot more subtle than it actually was.

Wyatt looked fondly exasperated and Marty knew that no matter what turned out to be happening here, her husband had been working on it with Lori for a while. Nothing else would put that expression on his face.

She felt a smile crossing her face. "False pretenses?" she asked.

Wyatt nodded, trying and failing to look solemn. "Yes. Although I suspect you'll forgive me when you find out why."

"What's he saying? I can't hear?" Lori said in what barely constituted a whisper.

"Shh!" Darla urged. "I'm listening for my cue."

Wyatt gave up on trying to look serious, which was good, because Marty was pressing a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Okay," Wyatt said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I can see this is getting away from me."

"Secret agents, they are not," Marty agreed.

"Hey, Darla?" Wyatt called, raising his voice a little bit.

"Is this my cue?" Darla whispered.

"It sure is," he faux whispered back.

And then Darla emerged… carrying Marty's suitcase.

And just like that, Marty was baffled again.

"What's going on?"

"I know how much you were disappointed over our honeymoon," Wyatt said. "I was too. And so I thought maybe we could have a little do-over."

A picture was starting to form in Marty's mind. She looked from Wyatt's happy smile to the way Darla was bouncing excitedly on her toes.

"A do-over?" she echoed.

"This weekend," he confirmed. "Now, it's not going to be as big as our first trip, of course, but I've booked us a long weekend at this adorable little house in Bar Harbor, Maine. We're going to relax and hunt for clams and eat until we're—"

He was cut off, then, because Marty threw her arms around him and silenced him with a huge kiss.

It wasn't even as huge as she wanted, since her mother and sister were both present. When she pulled back though, she saw everyone in the room was smiling as big as she was.

"Oh, well, if you don't like the idea, we don't have to go," Wyatt teased.

"Oh, shut your mouth," Marty scolded. "I can't believe you planned us a ‘take two' honeymoon!"

"I can't believe I didn't spill the beans," Darla muttered. "I am not good at lying."

"I want to disagree with you, but…" Marty trailed off pointedly. Darla stuck her tongue out.

"You were extremely helpful," Wyatt reassured her. "You helped me find a good weekend and you distracted Marty so I could pack the suitcase."

"Wait!" Marty said, propping a hand on her hip. "That's why you asked me to lunch last week! I knew you were being cagey about something!"

"Well," Darla said, looking guilty, "I also had a nice time hanging out with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Marty joked. She couldn't even pretend she was really mad, though. This was such an amazing surprise, so unexpected and wonderful, that she felt as though she'd never be mad ever again.

Her logical brain knew that last part probably wasn't true, but in this moment, she didn't care one bit.

Then a thought occurred to her. "Wait, what about the cats?"

Lori chimed up from where she stood behind Darla. "They are going to enjoy a wonderful weekend with their Grandma Lori, of course!"

"I thought you were too young to be a grandma," Darla teased.

"They're cats, sweetheart. It's totally different. Besides, as you well know, I've warmed up to the idea of being a grandma. So if you could get on that…"

She trailed off meaningfully, and Darla and Marty exchanged an eye roll of sisterly commiseration.

"Well," Marty said, "words are not enough, but I love you. I love you all." She planted another kiss on Wyatt. "And I especially love you. Being married to you is the greatest adventure I ever imagined."

"I love you too," Wyatt said into the side of her head before pressing a kiss to her temple. "So much. I'm so excited for this weekend together."

"Speaking of," Lori said, clapping her hands together decisively, "you newlyweds better get on the road! It's a long drive to Maine and you have dinner reservations tonight at the dreamiest, most romantic restaurant that looks out over the harbor."

Wyatt frowned, his turn to be confused. "Wait a minute. No, we don't."

"Indeed you do," Lori countered, looking extremely self-satisfied. "Some very kind, very beautiful, very hard-working realtor put in the reservation for you."

"Very humble too," Marty teased. "But seriously, Mom, thank you. That's amazing."

"It really is, Lori," Wyatt agreed, stepping forward to press a kiss to his mother-in-law's cheek.

Marty took the same moment to lean into Darla's embrace and whisper a "thank you" into her sister's ear.

"Well," Lori said jovially as the married couple headed to the door, "feel free to repay me by giving me a grandbaby!"

"Oh my gosh, Mom!" Darla cried as the two women waved Marty and Wyatt off. "Do you have a one-track mind or what?"

"You should have seen her face!" Darla cried later as she poured two glasses of red wine, one for herself and one for Rick. She'd channeled her happy mood into roasting a chicken that afternoon, and the kitchen was brimming with delicious smells. "She was so surprised, and Wyatt was so happy."

"And I bet you were so relieved that you didn't have to keep a secret from your sister anymore," Rick joked in return.

Darla let out an exaggerated sigh, then chuckled. "You have no idea."

"I have some idea! I was afraid you were going to explode if this took much longer."

"It was a definite possibility," she admitted.

He came up behind her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You have many talents, my darling, but keeping secrets? Not one of them."

"Fortunately," she said, leaning into his embrace, "I make up for it by being an amazing cook."

"That's true," he agreed, reaching around her to snatch a carrot from the pan of roast vegetables she'd made to accompany the chicken. "I wish I had known earlier that you were going to make a roast chicken. I would have spent all day getting excited about it. Now I have to cram all my excitement into a few minutes."

"I have the sneaking suspicion that you're trying to butter me up, so I do this more often," she said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Darn, apparently I'm no good at keeping secrets either," he joked. "You absolutely got me. Please make the chicken more often, it's just so good." He used his hands on her waist to spin her around and then gave her puppy dog eyes.

Speaking of puppies…

"Hey, where's Scout?" she wondered, peeking around Rick to look for their dog. Usually the smell of dinner summoned the pup to the kitchen like a homing beacon, even when it wasn't something as delicious or tempting to a dog as roast chicken.

Rick seemed to realize this. He followed her gaze. "Yeah, that's weird."

In an act of the kind of unspoken agreement that became easier the longer a marriage went on, the two put their wine glasses on the counter and turned to search the house for their dog.

"Scout? Scout? Where are you, sweet girl?" Darla called, feeling more nervous by the moment.

"Scout? Where'd you go, pup?" Rick called. Then, a few moments later, his voice sounded again. "Darla?"

She hurried to their bedroom where Scout was lying over the foot of their bed, her head lying on her paws, looking unmistakably sad. Rick was stroking her soft ears, which was failing to excite the puppy the way it normally did.

"She seems weird," he said, voice fretful. "Doesn't she?"

"Are you feeling okay, Scouty Scout?" Darla crooned, getting down on her knee so she could look closely at the puppy's face. Scout let out a sad little whine.

"Do you want a treat?" Darla tried. Scout definitely knew the word, but she showed no reaction. That was extremely unusual.

"I don't like this," Rick said. "Do you think we should take her to the vet?"

She nibbled her lip. "I don't want to get ahead of ourselves if she's just tired or something… but I kind of think we should, yeah. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Definitely," he agreed, leaping to his feet. "Why don't you pack up dinner for later and I'll get this girl in the car and call Avery."

They both sprang into action and were heading into town within five minutes. Scout shivered unhappily in the back seat.

Luckily, Dr. Maxwell was available to come in after hours, otherwise they would have been forced to travel all the way to the twenty-four-hour veterinary hospital that was over an hour away. Darla worried the whole of the ten-minute drive into town; she couldn't imagine how she would have felt for more than six times as long with Scout letting out occasional little whimpers in the back seat.

Fortunately, Whale Harbor was the kind of town that winded down early, especially in early spring when the tourists hadn't turned up for the season yet. There was a parking spot directly in front of the veterinary clinic. Rick pulled in smoothly and Darla went to greet Avery as he gathered up Scout.

"Hi, Darla," Avery said warmly, looking unflappable. Just the sight of her smooth gray hairdo made Darla's anxiety lower a notch or two. "Rick said that poor little Scout isn't feeling well?"

"Yeah," Darla said, twisting her hands together. "She's listless and didn't even react when we tried to offer her a treat. She always reacts when we offer her a treat."

"Most puppies do," Dr. Maxwell agreed, her attention immediately turning to Scout as Rick entered with the dog in his arms. "Well, there's lots of reasons a dog can be acting out of sorts, many of which are a whole lot of nothing, but you were smart to bring her in to check. Let me take her back to the exam room and see if I can't figure out what's going on, okay?" She deftly grabbed Scout from Rick and gave the couple a reassuring smile. "I know there's not much point in saying this, but do try not to worry, okay? I'll come out and give you an update as soon as I have it."

"Okay," Darla agreed, feeling teary.

"Thanks, Avery," Rick said, taking his wife's hand. "We really appreciate it."

"Happy to help," Dr. Maxwell said.

Then she vanished into the back of the clinic, Scout in her arms, leaving Rick and Darla to sit in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, hands clasped, hearts in their throats.