"I don't know what to say."
Susan laughed raggedly and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of a paper towel. "You and Kevin were the most romantic couple I'd ever known. We were all wildly jealous of you two in high school and then when you got married – hell, it was better than the romance novels we were reading under the covers at night. Do you know what we called you two?"
Annie shook her head. She was beginning to think she knew very little at all.
"The Orphan and the Penniless Poet."
Annie started to laugh.
"I know, I know, it sounds funny now but back then we thought it was the most thrilling and romantic thing in the world."
"Even when Kevin and I were working double shifts at McDonald's to make ends meet?"
"What's more romantic than poverty when you're young?"
Oh, Susan, if you only knew . . . .
Annie poured tea for both of them then settled back down opposite her friend. "I know you and Jack are happy," she said. "Knowing you, I can't believe you'd still be with him if you weren't."
"We're happy," Susan admitted, "but sometimes I find myself wondering what else might be out there." She fiddled with her spoon. "I'm forty-two, Annie, and I can't believe this is as good as it's going to get."
"Isn't that what Sweeney said when she left husband number six?"
"I'm not saying I want six husbands," Susan said with a mock groan, "but sometimes I see a man and next thing you know I'm having him stripped and brought to my tent." She laughed at the look on Annie's face. "Figuratively speaking, of course."
"I thought I was the only one who did that."
It was Susan's turn to look shocked. "You? You're kidding!"
"All the time," Annie said. "You wouldn't believe what I did with the new attendant at the gas station last spring."
Susan started to laugh and then before you knew it Annie was laughing too, huge loud belly laughs that left no room for jealousy or anger.
"When I was pregnant with my last one, I actually started fantasizing about Hall in the delivery room," Susan admitted.
"Did you know Roberta Morgan spritzes herself with Shalimar before every visit?"
The two of them convulsed in laughter again, falling across the table in helpless mirth.
"Now where did you hear something like that?" Susan demanded when she could finally speak again.
"I heard it right here," Annie said. "She and Claudia were talking about gyno visits and Roberta piped up with that revelation."
"I would've given anything to see my mother's face when she heard that."
Annie poured them some more tea and broke into a new bag of cookies.
"You know I was disappointed that it didn't work out for you and Hall," Susan said.
"I figured as much." Annie sipped her tea. "He's a good man," she said, "but there's just no chemistry there."
"Maybe there could be if you gave him a chance."
Annie shook her head. "You can't force chemistry, Susie. It's either there or it isn't."
"Now you sound like Jack."
"Your husband's a smart man."
"I know," said Susan.
"And he loves you."
"I know that too."
"That's more than most of us get in one lifetime."
Susan broke apart another Oreo. "Did you love Kevin?" she asked suddenly.
"What kind of question is that?" Annie bristled. "Of course I loved him."
"Were you happy?"
Why didn't she ask how many angels could dance on the head of a pin?
"I think you've had too much orange pekoe."
"No, no," Susan said. "Don't push me away with a joke, Annie. I want to know if you and my brother were happy together."
"Is this a test?" Annie asked lightly. "Miss one question and I'm drummed out of the Galloway clan."
It was Susan's turn to bristle. "You looked happy. You sounded happy. But lately I've found myself wondering what happiness is all about."
"You're married," Annie said, choosing her words with great care. "You know it isn't always a matter of being happy or unhappy."
"He adored you."
Annie couldn't deny it. "He wasn't the most practical of men."
"He was a poet," Susan said. "A poet dropped in the middle of a bunch of bean counters. Mother was the only one who really understood him."
"It isn't always easy living with a poet." We almost lost the house, Susie. Strange men used to show up at our door in the middle of the night. Our poet had a terrible problem . . . .
"Is Sam a poet?"
Annie shook her head. "Only when he's working on one of Warren's boats. He seems to understand them from the inside out."
"Is that what he does for a living, repair boats?"
She couldn't help smiling. "Would you believe he's some kind of bean counter."
"You're happy, aren't you?"
"Very."
"And you're being careful. It's a different world out there from when we were young and dating. The rules have all changed."
"He's a good man." Remember how I fell apart when my parents died, Susie? Sam lost his parents too when he was about the same age, but he didn't fall apart. He did what he had to do to keep his family together. I would never have been able to do that. "I've never known anyone like him."
"He'd better be good," Susan said fiercely, "or he'll have to answer to me."
"He saved my life."
"Very funny."
"I'm not joking, Susie. He saved my life the night I moved into the new house." She told her the whole story, from the bottle of cheap bubbly on an empty stomach to setting fire to her beautiful green robe to waking up in bed with him the next morning.
"Ohmigod," Susan breathed, wide-eyed. "Ohmigod!"
"And as if that's not enough," Annie said, "he brought over a bag of DeeDee's donuts."
Susan pretended to fall across the table in a swoon. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you? First you tell me the guy is a bona fide hero, then you tell me he wooed you with DeeDee's donuts."
"Afraid so," Annie said. "I didn't stand a chance. He's as close to perfect as a man can get."
"The donuts alone would have done it for me," Susan admitted.
They talked about other things too, touching on subjects near and dear to their hearts in a way they hadn't for far too long. Family and friends and the latest gossip making the rounds about town. "You're the number one topic these days," Susan said as Annie washed the cups and teapot.
Annie handed Susan a wet cup and a dry dishtowel "What are they saying?"
"Mostly that you never looked so good. Ceil at Yankee Shopper thinks you're doing tae bo."
Annie burst out laughing. She wanted to tell her friend how wonderful it felt to have a secure roof over her head, to no longer worry about strangers on her doorstep or late night phone calls. She might not have much but what she had belonged to her free and clear and the sense of freedom and independence that gave her was exhilarating. And then to have someone like Sam walk into her life at that very moment—well, it was enough to make a woman believe she just might have been born under a lucky star after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Hall looked up from his computer to find Ellen standing in the doorway to his office. She was holding a newspaper clipping in her right hand.
"I found this is in the fax machine," she said. "Nice picture of Annie Galloway and Sam Butler, isn't it?"
"Thanks," he said. "I was wondering what happened to it."
"You have to check the machine now and again, Hall." She walked over and dropped the clipping on his keyboard. "One day you might leave something incriminating behind."
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. "If you have something to say, why don't you just say it."
"I am saying it." She leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm just not sure you're listening."
"I faxed a copy of a newspaper story to a friend. Is that a crim
e?"
"That picture goes back to Labor Day. How long are you going to hang onto it?"
"It's not what you think."
"Yeah," she said. "Sure it isn't."
"Annie's in love with the guy. I know that." There were times when he even believed it.
"So what are you doing hanging onto this stupid picture?"
"A hunch," he said.. "A reminder." He shoved away from his desk and stood up. "Hell, Markowitz, I don't know why but I'm glad I did."
She looked weary and more than a little bit irritable. "You still think he looks familiar, don't you?"
"More than ever. What can it hurt to check him out with a few sources."
"You mean, apart from the fact that it's none of your business?"
"I've known Annie since we were kids," he said, not quite sure why he wanted her to understand. "She's been through a lot in her life. I don't want to see her go through anything else."
"Never knew you were such a Boy Scout."
"You're not acting like yourself today, Markowitz. What's going on?"
"Forget it," she said. "If you can't figure it out for yourself, it's hopeless."
She slammed the door behind her so hard the certificates on his wall rattled. No matter what Ellen though, he hadn't been trying to duck her question. Right from the beginning he'd had the feeling he knew Sam. There was something familiar about him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on and it was driving him crazy.
The sense that Sam Butler was hiding something was too strong to ignore. So was the certainty that Annie was going to be hurt. He knew there wasn't any hope for him but he'd be damned if he stood still while some other guy broke her heart. If he couldn't have her, the least he could do was make sure a better man did. And there was no way in hell that Sam Butler was the better man.
What could it hurt to fax the clipping to some of his friends and colleagues down in New York and see what, if anything, he could uncover. Susan said the guy was some kind of bean counter on Wall Street. That was a good place to start. He had failed Annie once with his silence. He didn't want to make that mistake a second time.
#
Sam spent his days at work in Warren's barn and his nights in Annie's bed, moving easily between heaven and paradise. The first of the canoes was almost finished. All that remained was the time-consuming job of stretching the canvas over the frame and securing it at one-inch intervals. Most people would have found the work tedious and repetitive but not Sam. He loved everything about the process. The sharp-sweet smell of freshly cut wood. The graceful curve of the shell. The symmetry of the bench seats. The taut crispness of canvas stretched to its limit.
Canoes were wonders of maritime construction, elegant and efficient, the perfect example of the "less is more" philosophy. They glided silently through the waters same as they had two centuries ago when the Penobscot still outnumbered the white man. Canoes were rich with the history of the place and Sam found himself drawn more deeply into the process with every day and, by association, more deeply drawn into lure of the region and its people.
Both Annie and Warren were of this place. The rugged shoreline and fertile waters had helped shape them. They were both strong and honorable and fiercely loyal to the people and things they loved, old-fashioned virtues he understood even if he fell far short in applying them to real life.
Warren and some of his old friends were up in Canada on their annual mid-October fishing expedition which coincided with Pete and Nancy's week in Rhode Island with their daughter and new grandbaby. Sam said he would take in the mail and keep a casual eye on the house but except for an occasional FedEx delivery, nobody ever drove past the mailbox at the foot of the driveway. Solitude of this richness and magnitude was new to Sam and he was surprised to discover how much he liked it. He was able to sink deeply into his work to the point where the rest of the world fell away. Annie was that way too. He had noticed the way she blocked out everything but the project at hand when she worked, sailing away deep into some interior world that was hers alone. Further proof, as if he needed any, that they were meant to be.
Warren had been elated when she told him that she'd nailed a concept for the front of the museum and he had faxed her list of materials to a friend who promised to fulfill the order within the next two weeks. Annie alternated between excitement and terror, convinced one minute that she was about to make her mark and equally convinced the next that she was doomed to failure.
She fascinated him, delighted him, made him feel anything was possible. She understood the deep loneliness that never quite went away because she felt it too. Losing both parents was like being cast adrift in hostile waters without a compass. It marked you, changed you forever in the most primal way possible. Life would never again seem safe or easy. He was glad she'd had the Galloway family to drew her into their circle and made her one of their own. He wished his own brothers and sisters had been half that lucky. He had done his best but more often than not these days it seemed as if his best hadn't been close to good enough.
He began to close up shop around six o'clock. Max, who had been sleeping peacefully in a quiet corner of the barn-turned-workroom, barked twice and took off through the open door.
"Max!" Sam bellowed. "Get back here now!"
Warren's house was situated deep in the woods and neither he nor Max had a good sense of direction. He could be out there half the night looking for the yellow Lab if he didn't grab him right now.
Night came early these days. The side lawn was bathed in shadow and he caught a glimpse of Max's form as the dog raced around the corner of the house. Sam picked up speed. Max was headed for the driveway which meant it wouldn't be long before he was down on the main road.
Except there he was, barking his brains out at a strange car parked right behind Sam's Trooper. The cars lights were on but the engine was off.
"It's okay, boy," Sam said, scratching Max behind his ear. "I'll take it from here."
The dog did one of those fast-footed dog dances that no human on earth could imitate then, still barking, he ran toward the front door of the house.
Sam did a quick check of front and back seats. A woman's purse lay open on the passenger's seat. Papers spilled from purse to seat to floor. Checkbook, pen, some stapled pages filled with typing, one of those Adam Winters brochures.The keys dangled from the ignition. The perfume was rich and a little too strong for his taste. Definitely not Annie's.
He heard Max's hysterical barking from the front of the house and a woman's high-pitched call. To hell with the car. Moments later he bounded up the front steps and found himself face to face with Annie's former mother-in-law who was in what seemed to be a state of near hysteria.
"Where is he?" she demanded. Her face was streaked with tears. "I need to speak to Warren right now."
"He's up in Canada on his fishing trip," Sam said. "Can I help you with anything?"
"That old fool is never here when I need him." Her voice was ragged and she brushed tears off her face. "What am I going to do?"
"You'd better sit down," Sam said. "You're swaying on your feet."
He put a hand on her arm and she pulled away.
"I'm not senile yet," she snapped. "I can stand on my own two feet."
"Sorry." He backed away, palms held outward. "Why don't you come in and sit down." Lady, you're acting like it's a Prozac moment.
He pushed open the door and ushered her into the front hall. He gestured toward the living room. "Sit down," he said, risking another outburst. "I'll get you some water."
She ignored him and headed toward the back of the house. "I know this place like the back of my hand," she said over her shoulder. "I'll get my own water."
"Whatever," he muttered, as he and Max followed close behind. It was clear she didn't like him and at the moment the feeling was mutual.
She fumbled in the cabinet over the stove, looking for a water glass. "Wineglasses on the bottom shelf. What is Nancy thinking of?" Her hands shook as she reached for a chu
nky little glass on the second shelf.
Sam reached over her head and took down the glass. "Here," he said. "This is what you were looking for, right?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Who knew polite could sound so angry.
She filled the glass from the tap then took two noisy gulps. She sounded like Max at his bowl. He had the feeling it was the first time in her life that Claudia Galloway fell short of perfection.
"I'm great with cars," he said. "If you need a tire changed or anything –"
"My son-in-law is a master mechanic," she said through a fresh fall of tears.
"You left your lights on," he said. "I turned them off for you."
"That wasn't necessary."
"It will be when you try to start your engine."
She waved a hand in the air. "I don't care."
He thought about the mess on the front seat of her car. The spilled contents of her purse. The checkbook. The papers that looked a hell of a lot like signed contracts. Adam Winters's glossy four-color face staring up at him from the front of a brochure. Her desperate need to see Warren. I'll give it one more shot, Mrs. G, then I'm outta here.
She was seated at the kitchen table, her slim body curled over the stubby glass of water. She looked the way his mother used to look when they were going to be late again with the rent. She looked the way his clients must have looked when they realized they were bleeding money.
"You signed a contract with Adam Winters, didn't you?"
She looked up at him, her face a study in despair. "How did you know?"
"Lucky guess," he said. "How bad is it?"
"Bad," she said, burying her face in her hands. "Terribly bad."
He asked for a number and the one she told him rocked him back on his heels. One year ago the amount wouldn't have made him blink.
"You're right," he said. "That's pretty damn bad."
"You tell anyone and I'll have your head," she said angrily. "I don't know why on earth I told you."
"You didn't," he pointed out. "I guessed."
"Well, now you can just forget all about it," she ordered him. "This is none of your business."
A Soft Place to Fall (Shelter Rock Cove) Page 23
