Angora Alibi

by Sally Goldenbaum

Nearly a foot taller than Birdie, Izzy smiled down at one of the wisest women she knew, then looked back to her aunt. “Why don’t you come with me this week when I see Dr. Lily? You can hear her report for yourself. You might hear baby Perry, too. This baby is noisy, just like his dad—” She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, then looked down at the baby’s form and added, almost as if talking to herself, “When he bounces around so much, I’m sure it’s a mini Sam. But when I play Norah Jones and the baby rolls so gracefully to the music, I think it’s a little girl in there, maybe a dancer. But we’ll all find out soon enough, I guess.”

  Nell’s smile was hidden in the darkness of the night as she listened to Izzy dream aloud about her baby. It was foolish for her to worry about her niece, just as Ben and Izzy and Birdie said—yet they put up with Nell and treated her concern kindly.

  “So, Aunt Nell? What do you say?”

  “Thanks, Izzy. Of course. I’d love to go with you.”

  Birdie was the first up the steps, her diminutive figure shimmery in a short silver dress. Her gait was lively, belying her eighty-plus years. She hugged one of the young women handing out programs at the door. “Janie Levin, you are a vision tonight.”

  Birdie had known the young nurse her entire life and, along with the other knitters, had cheered Janie on when she left an hourly job to go to nursing school, and then they had welcomed her back with open arms when she returned, degree in hand, to pursue her career in Sea Harbor.

  Janie blushed at the attention and slid a palm down her watery silk dress. She lowered her head, a thick red curl falling over her forehead. “Do you recognize this dress? I got it at Laura Danvers’ garage sale. A designer dress! Who knows the glamorous places it’s been?” She laughed and pushed the stray lock back into place.

  Without her hair, Janie might have been considered pleasant looking, but one would never describe her that way. Gorgeous was used more often. Twenty-five years before, she’d made her way into the world with a headful of valentine-colored curls, surprising the entire medical team, not to mention a black-haired mother and father who wondered briefly if their tenth child had somehow been dropped off in the wrong delivery room. Along with her deep green eyes and tall, lanky body, Janie stood out, no matter how hard she tried not to.

  “No one will ever know. It looks like it was made for you, Janie,” Izzy said

  Janie laughed again. “Laura walked right by me tonight without even noticing I was wearing her dress—of course it’s shorter on me, but short is ‘in,’ so I’m fine. I paid four dollars and fifty cents for it, can you believe it?” She held up four fingers.

  “Yes, I can,” Izzy said. “That’s why you’re the garage sale queen. You’re the best bargain hunter I know.”

  “It’s easy to be frugal when you grow up with nine siblings. I love garage sales. And now I get to use my hobby to buy things for my boyfriend. I never tell Tommy where things come from—he thinks the shirts and designer ties I give him are new.”

  They laughed at the thought of the young policeman, whose shoes were always shined, his uniform pristine and pressed perfectly, dressed in garage sale finds. “Tommy Porter’s a lucky man,” Birdie said.

  “And Dr. Lily, too,” Izzy said. “As if being head nurse isn’t enough, Janie seems to have her hand in everything over there.”

  “It’s my dream job—and I want to be involved in everything. I get to train the new nurses and all sorts of . . .” Janie’s words fell off and were replaced by a frown as she looked over Izzy’s shoulder and down the steps. Several young men, dressed in khaki pants and light blue shirts, stood at attention at the curb. A VALET sign was posted in front of them.

  Izzy followed Janie’s look. “You worry too much, Janie,” she said. “He’ll be fine.”

  Justin Dorsey, a ponytailed young man with dimples and an infectious smile, had taken a set of car keys from the construction magnate, Alphonso Santos, and was eagerly climbing into his shiny yellow Porsche.

  Janie fidgeted with of the evening’s program, bending a corner back. Finally, once Justin had eased the car away from the curb, she relaxed. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t worry about him. Tommy thinks I’m crazy. He’d be happy if Justin would disappear. But it was so nice of Laura and Willow to hire him to park cars tonight—even though I had to talk him into it. There was a party at the beach—a bunch of college kids—and he really wanted to go. They needed him, he said. He’d make his money down there. ‘How?’ I asked him. ‘Selling hot dogs?’ He just doesn’t think. I know he doesn’t make much at the clinic—and frankly, we needed him tonight, so I forced him to come. He’s like a little kid and lives in the moment, doesn’t think about the consequences. And I just worry. You know?”

  “Well, stop worrying, dear,” Birdie said, patting her hand. “It accomplishes nothing but wrinkles. Justin can drive a car as well as anyone. If he’s related to you, he has to have a few marbles up there.”

  Janie’s worried look remained. “Well, he’s related to a cousin of a cousin out in California. But everyone in the family kind of cast him aside. I felt sorry for him.”

  A few minutes later the young man walked back across the parking lot, waving to arriving guests and swinging Alphonso’s car keys from his one finger.

  The worry began to disappear from Janie’s face. “He’s okay . . . and can be sweet. He just doesn’t have much faith in himself. Tommy says I’m not the one to put it there and I should just let him grow up.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. But Justin doesn’t seem to have anyone else.”

  They knew the story, how Janie had met the several-times-removed cousin at a reunion where no one paid much attention to him. But Janie had, and by reunion’s end, Justin had developed a puppy-dog crush on her, like a youngster on a young teacher or a camp counselor. And much to her surprise, a few months after the reunion, he’d hitchhiked his way to Sea Harbor, showing up on her doorstep. Justin would move the sun for Janie Levin if she asked him to—but he sometimes tripped over a few planets in his attempts.

  “You’ve done a lot for him. But maybe Tommy is right—now he needs to stand on his own two feet.”

  Janie nodded to Birdie. “Sure, you’re right, Birdie. And even Justin tells me he is figuring out how to make money on his own. He doesn’t need me to find him jobs, he says. The clinic gig is enough. But . . .” A line of people forming behind Birdie and waiting for programs interrupted her thought, and one hand flew to her mouth. “Jeez. Fine volunteer I am. I’m going to be fired!” She gave a small wave and stepped aside to greet the next guest.

  The threesome left Janie to her duties and moved into the center hallway.

  Birdie looked back to the doorway where Janie was graciously greeting each guest. And where, beyond her, Justin was stomping out a cigarette and taking the keys to another fancy car. Once again, she saw Janie’s eyebrows lift, her forehead furrow, and a flicker of anger in her eyes as she spotted the crushed cigarette.

  “Sometimes that girl takes on too much,” Birdie said.

  “Are you saying Justin is too much?” Nell asked.

  “Perhaps he is.”

  “Janie has gotten him odd jobs everywhere,” Izzy said.

  “But he has a tough time keeping them, from what I’ve heard,” Nell said.

  “Well,” Birdie philosophized, “he’s just a kid, really. He’ll grow up. They all do.” She waved at neighbors filing by and followed their eyes to the large posters hanging on the walls.

  Everywhere in the high-ceiling entryway, people stood in groups, looking up at the large posters hanging on the walls that outlined auction items donated for the event. The entryway flowed into a larger room, its ceiling reaching two stories. The skylights, windows, and doors created an amazing open space filled with elegantly set dining tables and lined with white-clothed bidding tables that groaned beneath the donated items.

  Nell looked around at the opulent setting. “I suspect you’re right, Birdie. Lily’s free clinic will be on its way to being well funded
by the end of tonight.”

  Izzy lifted herself on tiptoe as best she could manage and looked around the crowded space, peering over the tops of heads. “Where do you suppose the men are? We may never see them again in this crowd.”

  Nell pointed toward the far end of the building, where a long bar had been set up in front of the veranda doors. “I suspect they’re back there. And I think I see Cass and Danny, too.”

  Izzy volunteered to lead the way, her bulk providing an invitation for others to step aside. She greeted friends and customers as she rotated her body through the crowd.

  Cass greeted them with a laugh and a hug for Izzy. “Have you noticed how easily crowds part when you walk through? I think I’ll take you out on the Lady Lobster with me and see if you can part the sea.”

  The group laughed and moved into easy, familiar conversation, wrapped up in the comfort of longtime friendships. Ben passed glasses of water and wine around. “We thought we’d lost you for a minute there. This placed is packed.”

  “I figured you’d be checking out the silent auction items, looking for treasures.” Cass smiled up at the quiet blond-haired man standing next to her. “Like Danny here. I think he’s going to surprise me by bidding on something amazing. Right?”

  Danny Brandley walked his fingers up her bare back. “Who knows? Word has it that someone donated an expensive necklace, dripping with gems. . . .”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “I was thinking more of those new lobster buoys Gus McClucken donated.”

  They all laughed. Cass tried hard to maintain her tough fisherwoman image, but it didn’t fit her tonight, no matter how hard she tried. Tonight she was all Cinderella, her thick black hair loose about her shoulders. Torn jeans and a yellow slicker had given way to a midnight blue, spaghetti-strapped dress that in no way spoke of hog rings and head netting.

  And Danny, her mystery writer friend, seemed to be enjoying every bit of his Cinderella.

  Behind the bar, a dark-haired man shook a silver carafe, half listening to the group’s friendly conversation, a smile on his face.

  Nell looked over and her face lit up. “Kevin Sullivan!” She leaned over the bar to hug the bartender. “I didn’t realize it was you. I think it’s the beard.”

  “You like? I got tired of being carded when I was in New York.”

  “Well, we’re happy to have you home again. Birdie tells me people are flocking to the Ocean’s Edge to taste your specialties.”

  Kevin’s face reddened with his grin. “Aw, shucks.”

  A year at the Culinary Institute clearly hadn’t rubbed away the young chef’s gentle veneer. “Head chef. Good for you, Kevin.” The others clapped their approval.

  “So, master chef, what are you doing tending bar?” Cass asked.

  Kevin poured a rose-colored drink mix into a glass. “How do you say no to Laura Danvers and Willow Adams—and both of them at once? They’ve mastered the fine art of getting free help.” He nodded toward a tall man farther down the bar. “They also figured I’d bring one of the Edge’s real bartenders along with me.”

  “Who’s that? Just when I think I know the whole town, some great-looking guy appears,” Cass said.

  Birdie slipped on her glasses and looked down the bar. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You know him, Cass. It’s that sweet little Tyler Gibson, all grown up. He’s been back home for a couple months now.”

  Cass took a closer look. The man’s wide smile was concentrated on several young women walking by. “Ty? Good grief. I used to babysit the Gibson kids.” She stared at the well-built blond bartender until he finally looked their way.

  He grinned, then shrugged and walked toward the group, lifting one broad hand in greeting. “Hey, Cass. I thought for a minute you weren’t going to acknowledge me.”

  “The bane of my babysitting career.” Cass followed her words with a whooping laugh. “You were a mess.”

  Tyler matched her laugh. “Hey, give a guy a chance. I’ve reformed. I haven’t snuck a beer past a babysitter in, what, a dozen years? I even mix drinks now—legitimately.” He puffed up his broad chest and cocked his thumb at the line of bottles behind him. “Believe it, O ye of little faith.”

  Cass shook her head and looked around at the others. “This kid was a handful—and sweet-talked his way out of everything.”

  Birdie waved her words away. “I’ve known Tyler since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’s a wonderful boy.” She pushed her glasses into her cap of silver hair and smiled at him. “Your grandmother is happy you’re back. Esther always stood by you even when your parents were ready to sell you to the highest bidder.” Birdie reached across the bar top and patted him on the cheek, a gesture only Birdie Favazza could carry off graciously.

  Ty laughed. “Having a grandma who was the town’s police dispatcher was a pain when I was in high school, but she’s a great old gal. My folks retired to Florida, but Grams talked me into coming back to Sea Harbor. I got laid off a construction job in the city, so she paid for a quickie course in bartending and then sweetly talked Kevin into giving me a gig at the Ocean’s Edge.”

  “Of course she did,” Birdie said. “She’d move the earth for you, and we’re happy she did.”

  A group of college-aged women sidled up to the bar, their eyes and seductive smiles focused on Tyler.

  “Business.” Tyler lifted one shoulder in a playful shrug, then moved back to mixing martinis and smiling his way into the women’s hearts.

  “Who would have thought?” Cass said. “A nice kid with lots of visible attributes, but as his grandma Esther would say, ‘not always with the sense God gave a donkey.’”

  Birdie laughed. “She didn’t say donkey, if I remember the conversation correctly. But I do remember her worries about him growing up. Everyone loves Ty. And he loves everyone back in equal measure, but not always wisely.”

  Nell motioned toward a table she’d claimed nearby just as a bell tinkled in the distance and a microphone whistled to life.

  Willow Adams, cochair of the event, stood as tall as her five-foot-one frame allowed and welcomed them all to the first annual charity auction. “But before you head off to the amazing food stations or to view tonight’s amazing donations, my cohost tonight, Laura Danvers, and I would like to thank a few people.”

  Elliot, Laura’s banker husband, led the applause as his wife hurried over to Willow’s side. In her mid-thirties, Laura Danvers was already a well-respected leader in Sea Harbor society. It was a rare charity that didn’t have a touch of Laura in it somewhere.

  “So many people to thank, so little time.” Laura laughed, then gestured to the programs scattered on all the tables and waved for those at the bar to find a place to sit. “The program lists everyone who generously supported us tonight, but there are a couple of people we want to mention because their drive and generosity are what we are all about. Dr. Lily Virgilio, please join us.”

  The crowd applauded again as the attractive doctor came forward to give a brief explanation of the health program the community center was initiating for the families of Sea Harbor who couldn’t afford care.

  “I wonder if Lily’s associate is as supportive of the program as she is,” Izzy whispered to Nell and Birdie. She nodded toward the table where Martin Seltzer sat, his long face solemn and pale, his eyes never leaving Lily’s face.

  “Not terribly happy, is he now?” Birdie frowned at the man, as if her look could coax him into being a bit more cheery for the festive event. “Poor Martin. I think this is the last place he wants to be. He told me once that he’d rather have a root canal than attend obligatory cocktail parties.”

  They watched the doctor cradle a glass of water in his long fingers, his eyes never leaving Lily as she handed the microphone back to Laura and stepped off the stage, returning to their table.

  Willow picked up the praise. “And next, a huge thank-you to Franklin Danvers.” She put her palms out and shook her head. “Okay, okay, we all know he’s Laura’s uncle and there’s
no way he could have turned us down when we went to him begging.”

  She paused for brief laughter, then went on. “But Mr. Danvers didn’t just agree to help, he said yes in a most generous way, underwriting all the food and drink you’re enjoying tonight. And it’s my guess he’ll be reaching in his pockets again before the evening is over, once his beautiful wife sees our auction items.”

  Laura looked over and encouraged her uncle to stand. He and his wife sat at the head table, along with the Drs. Virgilio and Seltzer.

  “I think the new wife has definitely softened Franklin,” Ben said, laughing at Franklin’s courtly bow.

  “I think it’s a bit more than that,” Birdie said. “Not only is Tamara beautiful, but she’s giving Franklin the one thing in his life that’s been missing. An heir.”

  A perfectly coiffed Tamara Danvers sat with a look of pride on her face as she lifted her hands in enthusiastic applause. A diamond ring sparkled on her finger. She leaned over and said something low to Martin Seltzer, and to their surprise, the somber doctor managed a smile.

  Ben lifted an eyebrow. “She’s pregnant?”

  “Newly pregnant,” Izzy said. “You’re just not on the cutting edge like we are, Uncle Ben.”

  “Maybe that explains Franklin’s recent largesse. He was in Europe for a few weeks a short while back looking into new business opportunities for his firm. A successful trip, I gather, but a side product was that he brought back some ideas to increase tourism for Sea Harbor. A group of us got together at the library last week to talk about it. On his way in, Franklin noticed some damage a winter storm had done to the roof and wrote a check right then and there to fix it. And then he suggested that the children’s room at the library looked a little ragged and needed some improvements. He offered to cover those costs, too.”

  “So, Sam, when are you going to pull out your wallet?” Cass asked. “How about a new school for baby Perry?”

  Their laughter was drowned out by Willow, once again taking the microphone as she encouraged people to fill their plates at the gourmet food stations, enjoy the music and dancing, and above all, bid on the many treasurers awaiting signatures at the auction tables.