The Widows' Gallery

by Marilyn Baron

  Her heart stuttered, her pulse quickened, and she felt an instant attraction. Christ, the man was gorgeous—and a little dangerous-looking—with a possible hint of Native American going on against the rugged planes and angles of his chiseled face. And that body! My God, it was positively Olympian. She couldn’t look away or change the goofy smile she felt spreading across her face.

  “Me?” she seethed. “You plowed right into me, you big, clumsy oaf.” Steadying herself in his embrace, she gazed up into the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes as relentless as the ocean.

  The giant shook his head. “I saved you from drowning, or at least a concussion. You were going over and under, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart, buster,” Abigail warned.

  A hint of a smile appeared on the man’s face. “Buster?”

  Goliath set her on her feet and held her by the elbows to steady her.

  Abigail took a step back to study him more closely. Her eyes focused on his overalls. He was probably a blueberry farmer. There were a lot of those in Maine. Or a cranberry farmer, like those two dweebs in the juice commercial, wading in the water in their hip-high rubber boots. Or a dock worker. Or a fisherman. Or someone who had come over to this country in steerage. No doubt some kind of laborer.

  “Hey, you’d better sit down. Are you hurt?”

  Abigail dusted herself off. “Just feeling a little dizzy.” She clutched her key.

  “What’s that in your hand?”

  “That is a key to our new P.O. box.”

  “Why do you need a P.O. box?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s for my new gallery. We’re opening in a month.”

  “A gallery? You mean like an art gallery?”

  “No, a shooting gallery.” She snorted.

  “Maybe you’re hungry or dehydrated. Let me buy you lunch until you settle,” said the titan.

  “I don’t have time, and anyway, I don’t even know you,” she said.

  “I’m Tack. Tack Garrity.”

  “What kind of name is Tack?”

  “Apparently you don’t sail,” noted Tack. “It’s a family name that dates back to the 1880s. One of my ancestors was the captain of a whaling ship. Say you’ll let me buy you lunch. I was headed over to Mariner’s Fish Fry. It’s a bit upscale, but it won’t break the bank.”

  “Chef is preparing lunch.”

  “You have a chef?”

  “I’ve got to eat, don’t I?”

  “I assume he’s French.”

  “Of course. What’s Mariner’s Fish Fry?”

  “You must be new here. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you in town. Surely, if you lived here, you’d have been to Mariner’s Fish Fry. It’s a diner/restaurant, one of the best in town for fresh lobster and lobster rolls, and they always feature a great catch of the day. They have a new lobster fritter on the menu as an appetizer. On the northern end of the harbor. The place has been here for decades.”

  “No, I’m not familiar with that establishment,” Abigail admitted, accenting the last word with disdain. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just a little dizzy.”

  He rubbed her arms.

  “You can let me go now.” But she really didn’t want him to.

  The giant’s face reddened as he started to release Abigail.

  “I’ve told you my name. What’s yours?”

  Abigail hesitated. “Abigail Adams…Longley.”

  “As in the Longleys? You were Louis’s wife?”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “Did you know Louis?”

  “We didn’t exactly hang out in the same circles, but yes, I knew him. I went to public school. He went to prep school. I was sorry to hear about Louis’s death and your in-laws being killed in that plane crash right after they lost their son. That must have been rough. You got a raw deal.”

  “It hasn’t been a picnic.”

  Abigail studied Tack. The man was nothing like Louis. Louis had been slight of build, quiet, unassuming, bespectacled, and brilliant. She resented this man because he wasn’t Louis and yet he was making her feel things she hadn’t felt, well, since she’d lost Louis.

  “Look, I’m really sorry,” said Tack. “Are you okay? Your face looks—I mean, I think you landed pretty hard against my stomach.”

  You mean your rock solid abs? Abby tried to calm her heart and catch her breath.

  “I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Tack apologized, after depositing her lightly onto the wooden walkway. “I had a lot of things on my mind, and I was distracted.”

  Abby knew she hadn’t been watching where she was going either, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

  “Well, you should pay more attention next time,” Abby admonished.

  Tack smiled. “So. You live up there in the Longley mansion?”

  “Yes.”

  “All alone?”

  “Well, not anymore. Some friends are living with me. We’re opening the gallery together.”

  Tack looked at his watch. “Look, I’m late. I’m going to meet my daughter. Why don’t you have lunch with us? It won’t take long. Just until you calm down.”

  Abby wondered if Tack could hear her stomach growling. She was hungry enough to eat a raw fish with the head on, and she hated sushi. In her current mood, she wasn’t going to get much done today. And he hadn’t been completely at fault when he ran into her. What harm could it do to have lunch with this hayseed blueberry farmer? She loved blueberries.

  “Okay, thank you.” She tried to sound gracious, but gracious wasn’t really part of her repertoire.

  Tack placed a broad hand on her shoulder and aimed her toward the restaurant. She stared at his hand.

  “I just want to make sure you don’t fall again, not on my watch.”

  Tack took her by the hand and led her toward Mariner’s Fish Fry, the blue and white building ahead, with its green canopy over the entrance, a canopy emblazoned with a large red lobster. To the left of the building was a short, squatty, non-operational lighthouse with a deck circling the second floor. The place had a definite harbor flavor.

  Abigail’s hand tingled where Tack touched it. For such a big man, he had a surprisingly light touch. Or maybe she was just super sensitive. It had been awhile since a man had touched her.

  “We’ve got to hurry. My mom dropped my daughter off, and I was already running late. Look, I apologize for running into you. I just finished a cruise, and we didn’t spot even one whale, so I had to refund half the ticket price to every passenger. That’s a half a day shot. I hate to lose the money, but more, I hate that the tourists were disappointed.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m the captain of Lobster Cove Adventure Cruises. It’s a whale-watching tour. I dock north of town and pick up and deliver passengers to Pier 2, the general pier here in town. We sail along the coast, and the passengers get to see nature—puffins to their heart’s content, and sometimes whales. But today I took her out almost to Canada, and still no whales.”

  “So, you’ll make it up tomorrow,” Abigail said.

  “It’s not the first time this has happened. At this rate, I’m going to lose the boat, and that’s going to break my dad’s heart.”

  “What’s your dad have to do with it?”

  “It’s his boat. We had to put him in Rutherford’s. That’s a nursing home on the outskirts of town. I moved back from Boston to take over.”

  “How did you know how to do it? Captain a boat, I mean.”

  “I used to go out with my dad all the time.”

  “So now you spend all day watching whales?”

  “It’s more than that— Excuse me.” Tack bounded into the restaurant and up to the hostess station, where he took the hostess in his arms and twirled her around.

  “Dawn, is Isabella here yet?”

  “At your usual table, Tack. Don’t worry. I’ve been keeping a good eye on her.”

  “Thanks. Dawn Sullivan, this is Abigail Longley. Dawn
and her husband, Roark, own this place.”

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a Longley in here,” Dawn assessed acerbically. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

  “I don’t think she likes me,” whispered Abigail, as Tack led her toward a large booth by the window at the back of the restaurant. Some diners were seated on the back deck at picnic tables that overlooked the bay.

  “That’s just her way.” Tack leaned down and scooped his daughter up in his arms.

  “Daddy!” The girl’s grin spread from ear to ear. She wound her arms around his shoulders and offered him a kiss.

  “Isabella, this is Abigail.”

  Isabella stood up and announced, “I’m Queen Isabella, and I’m going to marry the Prince of Whales.”

  Abigail laughed and curtsied. “Your Highness,” she said before turning to Tack. “So she’s set her sights on the Prince of Wales. Does she know he’s already taken?”

  “Not that Prince of Wales. The Prince of Whales, the mammal variety.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Isabella, scoot over so Miss Abigail has some room.”

  Abigail stared at Isabella. What a beautiful child. Her heart melted. This could have been my child.

  Isabella’s ice-blonde hair fell in ringlets around her head. Dressed in a beautiful silver-embroidered turquoise tulle tutu and a tiara, she looked like a fairy princess—except the tutu was on inside out.

  Abby looked at Tack. “Queen Isabella?”

  “Her mother used to call her that.”

  That revelation posed some questions. Was Isabella’s mother out of the picture? And if so, were they divorced? Or was theirs a great love story?

  “Did you order for us, Princess?”

  “It’s Queen Isabella, Daddy.”

  “Of course. Forgive me. I seem to be apologizing to women all over the place today.”

  So the blueberry farmer had a sense of humor.

  “Daddy always orders the same thing. A lobster roll, mashed potatoes, and green beans.” Isabella turned to Abby. “What are you having?”

  “That sounds good. I think I’ll have what your Daddy’s having.”

  The server came over and started to hand Abby a menu. She looked to be in her early twenties.

  Tack intercepted the menu and handed it back to the server, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Katelyn, she’ll have what I’m having. Thanks. And Abigail, what will you have to drink?”

  “I’d love a lemonade if you have it.” Although she was dying for something stronger.

  “Coming right up.” The server filled their water glasses, then left to put in their food order.

  “You’re on a first-name basis with the waitress? You sure are a friendly sort.”

  “Sure. Katelyn Sullivan is the owner’s daughter. I can’t believe you’ve never eaten here.”

  Abby stared at the displays of old wooden lobster traps, nets, and lobster buoys on the wall. “I thought it was just a hangout for fishermen and such.” She probably sounded like a real first-class snob. “Besides, I don’t spend much time in Lobster Cove. I don’t have anything in common with the people in this town. I’ve been traveling since Louis died.” She was just making it worse. “What did you do in Boston?”

  “I was in business, same as Louis.”

  “Oh. So when you said you went to school with Louis, you didn’t mean grade school, you meant Harvard?”

  “You look surprised.”

  “Well, you hardly look like the Harvard type. I mean—”

  “You mean the overalls? People on a whaling cruise expect you to dress the part.”

  So the hayseed farmer was a Harvard grad. Unexpected.

  Abby sipped her water and drew a breath. She couldn’t look straight on at Tack. It was like staring directly at the sun. He was making her dizzy. But she had to ask.

  “So is there a Mrs. Garrity in the picture?”

  “Only my mother,” Tack answered.

  “What about Isabella’s mother?” she asked pointedly.

  “My mommy went to Heaven, where the angels live,” said Isabella as she colored intently on the paper placemats.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. And how old are you, Isabella?”

  Isabella put down her crayons and held up five fingers.

  Abby nodded. The girl was a treasure. If she were mine, I’d dress her in the cutest clothes. And her tutu wouldn’t be on inside out.

  Tack observed Abby looking at his daughter.

  “She likes to wear the tutu inside out, and she insists on wearing it to school. Her mother was a ballerina.”

  “I see. How long has she been gone?” Abby whispered to Tack.

  “About two years.”

  So Tack was a widower and had been even longer than she had been a widow.

  “How did—” she wondered, then thought better of it in the presence of Isabella.

  Tack grimaced. From his uncomfortable look, she surmised there was a story there, but she wasn’t going to hear it today.

  Abby directed her attention to Isabella. “So, Isabella, what kind of things do you like to do?”

  “Sometimes I like to go with my Daddy on the whaling cruise. I like to draw. I’m drawing you now.”

  Abby leaned in and took a close look at Isabella’s picture. She had drawn her dad. There was no mistaking The Incredible Hulk in overalls, a girl with yellow ringlets dressed in a tutu turned inside out, and a stick figure with long strawberry blonde tresses wrapped around her body, like a mermaid, that looked like it could be her.

  Isabella studied her. “Are you going to be my new mommy?”

  Abby choked on her water. Tack patted her on the back.

  “Isabella, don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? Miss Abigail and I just met.”

  “But she’s very pretty, and I like her. She looks like a mermaid. Is this a date? My daddy doesn’t go on many dates. My grandma says he needs to get back into circulation. I can draw a circle. See?”

  Abby exploded in laughter.

  “I have a feeling I could find out all about you if I asked Isabella the right questions,” she said, looking at Tack and biting her bottom lip. She could stare surreptitiously at Tack all day. He was a heartbreaker.

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  The server brought over a basket of lobster fritter appetizers and delivered their lobster roll lunches.

  “You’re going to love this, Abigail. It’s not fancy, but it’s delicious.”

  Tack passed Abby a ramekin of hot melted butter and another with honey lime mustard sauce.

  She sliced off a piece of the fried lobster and dipped it into the honey lime mustard sauce. “Mmm. You’re right, this is amazing. I need to come into town more often.”

  Isabella had put her crayons aside and was eating the spaghetti and tomato sauce Katelyn had set in front of her. She was very fastidious. She had on a lobster bib, and she wiped her chin with a napkin each time she took a forkful of spaghetti. The child had manners to spare.

  “That’s her mom’s influence. Her mom used to love to dress Isabella in beautiful clothes. She had big ideas. Now I’m at a loss as to how to fill her shoes.”

  “Looks to me like you’re doing a great job.”

  Tack seemed pleased to hear it. “So how come I never see you around?”

  “I’m hardly ever here. Longley House just doesn’t feel like home. I’ve been drifting. You being a sea captain can probably understand that. I’ve been restless. I haven’t known what to do with myself since Louis died. Now that we’ve started this gallery, though, it’s opened up a whole new world for me.”

  “Doesn’t it get lonely in that big mansion?”

  “Well, with four women in the house now, and all that construction going on, it’s anything but lonely or quiet. Once the gallery opens, I have a feeling I’ll never be alone again.”

  “Why didn’t you build the gallery in town?”

  �
��Well, our gift shop and gallery annex will be in town, at 37 Maple Avenue, but I have acres to spare up at Longley House, so our main gallery will be there. It has such beautiful gardens, and from the upper floors of the house the view of the ocean and Martin Lighthouse is magnificent. I think tourists will want to get a peek inside one of the old mansions. It’s not far from here, after all. It’s the first house on Hidden Cove Drive.”

  Tack’s eyes twinkled. “I’d like to get a peek inside it myself.”

  “I’ll be sure to send you an invitation to the opening. Are you interested in art?”

  “I appreciate beautiful things,” he said, staring at her.

  Abby looked up from her platter and met Tack’s eyes. “What?”

  “It’s just that I haven’t seen anything so lovely in a long time.”

  Abby smiled broadly at the compliment.

  Turning her attention to Isabella, she engaged the child in conversation and found her to be extremely intelligent. The little girl was very talkative and endearing. Her smile lit up the room. Father and daughter were quite the charming duo.

  Tack waited for Isabella to finish her sentence before he reentered the conversation. “Since you’re opening a gallery, does that mean you’re going to stay in Lobster Cove?”

  “If you had asked me that a few months ago, I would have said no, because the house was too big and the town was too small. There was nothing for me here. I was thinking of putting it on the market. But now I’m starting to see Lobster Cove through the eyes of my new friends. I guess I’m starting to appreciate it more.”

  “It’s a great town,” said Tack. “I couldn’t wait to get out of here and go to Boston. That’s where I met my wife. She was a dancer in a Boston company. She hated it here, too. There was never enough culture for her. She hated the ocean. She got seasick when I took her out on the boat. We weren’t exactly compatible, but she did give me Isabella, and she’s the light of my life.”

  “I can see that.”

  “My parents are here, and they need me. I’ve got to save Dad’s business, although I’m not sure he even remembers me. But he spent his lifetime building it, and I couldn’t stand by and watch it fail…watch him fail. Mom spends most of her time with him, whatever time she can, when she’s not watching Isabella.”