Harbor Nights

by Marcia Evanick

  She liked Ned and the entire Porter family. Peggy and John were wonderful neighbors who had a habit of sending over fresh fish occasionally. She, in return, had sent over some fresh baked goods. It seemed like a fair exchange to her, but John always seemed particularly thrilled to see a steaming pie or a plate of cookies.

  There was one unattached Porter left—Matthew—but she didn’t think that would work out, considering Norah had already turned down one date with him and had now dated his brother. Some things you would rather not keep in a family, and the same date would be one of them.

  Joanna glanced behind the counter where she had placed a small doggie bed. Zsa Zsa was taking her before-lunch nap. The dog had more fun during the day than she did, and she was the one who loved her job. Zsa Zsa loved the children more. Ethan really appreciated having the dog there to entertain the children of browsing parents, leaving them more time to decide if they were interested in purchasing anything. Ethan swore that sales had risen since Zsa Zsa had begun coming to work and had even gone out and bought the Pomeranian her own bag of special treats.

  Joanna left the dog to her nap and walked over to the piece of art that had been intriguing her since she first walked into the gallery two weeks ago. Every day, she studied the piece, only to discover something she had missed the day before. At first glance, the four-foot carving wasn’t impressive. It appeared to be an old stump of a cut down tree with a new branch that had shot out of its side and was struggling for life. Only when a person got close enough to examine the piece did he or she notice the detailed carvings that were in the stump and lonely branch. So far, she had counted three tiny fairies hiding among the leaves and the root system. A miniature door was carved into the base of the stump, and what appeared to be a window or two was cleverly hidden within the bark. One of the roots was shaped like a rabbit, and there was a chipmunk peering out from under another section.

  The enchanting sculpture was like one of those pictures where you had to find different hidden items. The problem with the carving was that there was no answer key. She had no idea how many items she was looking for, so she spent an inappropriate amount of time studying the piece.

  “Have you found the Wise One yet?”

  Joanna startled at the voice but didn’t turn around. She hadn’t heard anyone come into the gallery, but she knew who was standing behind her. The man who had carved not only the stump she was studying but also every other wood piece for sale in the gallery. Karl James had become an almost daily visitor to the gallery since she had started working there. Ethan and Karen both got a kick out of teasing her about her admirer. They both thought Karl was wonderful, and they were constantly singing his praises.

  “Hello, Karl.” She moved to the right but continued studying the carving. “What Wise One?” She didn’t think he was referring to the cute little fairies or the animals.

  “The old wizard.” Karl stood still and watched her every move.

  “There’s a wizard carved into the stump?” She could feel Karl’s gaze on her as she took another step to the right. There was something unsettling about Karl’s gaze. She didn’t get the feeling she was in any danger; in fact, she felt quite the opposite. Karl James looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. No one had ever looked at her that way before, not even her ex-husband, Vince.

  “Just his face and hat.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Keep going right, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

  She moved to the far side of the carving and finally looked over at Karl when he said, “Stop.”

  She couldn’t stop her smile from forming. Today, he was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt with pink flamingoes all over it, dark green shorts, and sandals. His full beard was neatly trimmed, and his long gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Karl looked like an aging beach bum or one of those Grateful Dead musicians. The one that Ben and Jerry had named an ice cream flavor in honor of. To make matters worse, he had on a black ankle bracelet that appeared to be made out of rope and a diamond stud earring.

  Karl James dressed totally inappropriately for his age.

  So why did her knees get weak and her stomach feel like butterflies were fluttering about in it every time he walked into the gallery? The man was pushing fifty, and he dressed like he was an extra in a Gidget movie.

  “Right there should do it.” Karl rocked back on his heels and thrust his hands into his pockets.

  “Do what?” She had no idea why he was grinning or what he was talking about.

  “You should be able to see him from there.” Karl seemed quite pleased about something.

  It took her a moment to realize she was supposed to be looking for the wizard, not checking out Ethan’s star artist. Karl James’s carvings were becoming extremely sought after in the art world, and Wycliffe Art Gallery was the only one who sold them. Ethan was quite pleased with the arrangement, and Karl didn’t seem to be looking for anywhere else to handle or show his work. In fact, Karl didn’t seem to care if his carvings sold or not. Karl didn’t take commissions, and Ethan had no idea when a new piece or two would be showing up at the gallery.

  Karl was as laid back in his career as he was in his dress. What kind of man didn’t care about his career? Where was his passion, his arrogance, his blinding self-confidence in his own greatness?

  She studied the intricately carved piece of art, but she couldn’t see a wizard or even the shape of a pointy hat. She squinted her eyes and concentrated on the leaves of the branch.

  “Still can’t see him?” Karl moved to stand beside her and followed her gaze. “He’s not in the leaves. Only the fairies are in there.”

  “Three fairies, right?”

  “Four.” Karl’s voice held a hint of laughter and pleasure.

  There was a curse sitting on the end of her tongue, but she wouldn’t utter the word. She glanced over at Karl and smiled. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I’d be enjoying myself more if you would have lunch with me.”

  “Every time you come in here, you ask me out to lunch. Why?” She was curious to know. She just couldn’t picture herself as a woman Karl would usually date.

  Karl cocked his head and studied her face. “Every time I ask you to lunch, you come up with another excuse as to why you can’t go with me.” He didn’t seem insulted, only curious. “What’s today’s reason?”

  She looked away from his kind and all-knowing brown eyes and stared unseeingly at the carving. She hadn’t been on a date with any man other than her husband since she was seventeen. Eons ago. A lifetime ago. She wasn’t even sure if she knew how to behave and act. It was the twenty-first century, the dating rules had changed dramatically, and someone had forgotten to mail her the updated and revised instruction sheets.

  Months ago, when she had signed the agreement to buy the small cottage on Pepperell Street, she had told Norah she was ready to move on with her life. She was starting fresh. So far, she had made a promising start on a new life, but she hadn’t taken the final step. The step that scared her the most. Forming a relationship with a man. Granted, a simple lunch down at Krup’s General Store didn’t constitute a relationship with Karl or any other man, but it would be a baby step in the right direction. Not only did she need to take that step for herself, but for Norah as well. Her daughter needed to see that not all men were like her father.

  Vincent Alfred Stevens would not ruin the rest of her life. To fear other men because of what Vince had done would not dominate her or her daughter’s life. She wouldn’t allow Vince to win.

  How much trouble could she get into during a one-hour lunch break sitting in a booth in the middle of town? Karl and she would have absolutely nothing in common besides his work. He carved the sculptures, and she loved them.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” She didn’t look at Karl. “Krup’s makes the best BLTs, and I didn’t pack myself a lunch today.”

  “You’re agreeing to go to lunch with me?” Karl seemed pleasantly
surprised.

  “If you agree to tell me how many things I’m looking for in this sculpture and if you can wait until Ethan gets back from his lunch.” Putting conditions on the date made it seem more like a business deal than a romantic interest on her part. She didn’t want Karl to get the wrong idea about her or this one simple meal.

  Karl rubbed his chin. He was trying to hide his smile, but he failed miserably. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Stevens.”

  “It’s Joanna, please.” There was something about Karl’s smile that made her knees grow weaker. How could a man who had a full beard and dressed like he had attended Woodstock back in the sixties and smoked everything that was passed his way look so darn sexy? All the fresh sea air must have melted her brain.

  Karl James was immensely pleased with himself. He had finally gotten Joanna to agree to have lunch with him. It had only taken him ten trips into the gallery. He would have sworn it would have taken over a dozen invitations; his police record; a credit report score; and possibly, a digital eye scan to get Joanna just to share a cup of coffee, let alone a whole sandwich and a vanilla shake. He’d never met a more stubborn or more fascinating woman.

  “Want to tell me why you are so nervous?” He couldn’t shake the feeling that Joanna was getting ready to bolt out of Krup’s front door at any moment.

  “Who says I’m nervous?” Joanna looked up from her plate.

  “Your foot hasn’t stopped moving the whole time we’ve been here, and your fingers have been fidgeting with the silverware.” He glanced at her left hand that was toying with the spoon. “Do I make you nervous, or is it men in general?”

  The secrets in her green eyes swirled, intriguing him further. “I’m not sure how to do this, Karl.”

  “Do what—eat lunch?” There was no way she should be uncomfortable in a social setting with a man. Joanna Stevens was a beautiful woman who surely had been in the company of many men before him. He knew she had just moved to Misty Harbor with her daughter, the new journalist for the Hancock Review who was pushing a lot of people’s hot buttons. Joanna also was the owner of one very spoiled Pomeranian that went by the ridiculous name of Zsa Zsa. He wasn’t sure if she was divorced or widowed, but he wasn’t inclined to ask Ethan. He wanted to hear the story of her life from Joanna herself.

  “I know how to eat lunch.” Joanna gave him a look that spoke volumes. “I’ve been doing it every day of my life.” Joanna took a sip of her shake. “It’s just that this is the first date I’ve been on since my divorce.”

  “How long have you been divorced?” One question answered, a thousand more to go.

  “It’s been final a couple of months.” Joanna nibbled on a chip. “Have you ever been married?”

  “Many years ago. It lasted two years.” He now understood her hesitancy to go out with him, but it didn’t explain the vulnerability he sometimes glimpsed in her beautiful green eyes. Or the secrets. Secrets intrigued him, and this woman fascinated him more than most.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “The marriage never should have happened in the first place. I wasn’t husband material.” He was always the first to admit that he was the reason behind his failed marriage. “My job took me away from home too often and for too long. Susan, my ex, deserved better than that. She wanted a family, and to be honest with you, I would have made a terrible parent.”

  Joanna seemed curious to know more. “Why? Don’t you like children?”

  “Love them, but back in my thirties, I was never around. It wouldn’t have been fair to Susan or the children we might have had. Thankfully, we both realized our mistake, and moved on with our lives.” He had been the one to realize it first while sitting in another bland hotel room a thousand miles away from Susan and the home fires she swore she kept burning for him. “Susan remarried, and she is now the mother of two teenage boys that are driving her nuts.” He could smile about it now, but at the time, learning of Susan’s impending motherhood had hurt. It had hammered home all the things in life he had given up for his career. He had vowed never to make that same mistake again. Life was too short.

  “You keep in touch with her?”

  “We’ve remained friends over the years.” He had learned how unusual that was from other friends, associates, and family members who had gone through divorces. Most divorces ended with hatred, jealousy, and vengeance. He wondered how Joanna’s divorce had ended.

  “I didn’t realize that being an artist took you away from home that much. Don’t you have a studio or something?”

  “Carving is my second career, and yes, I do have a studio next to my house. Bringing eight- or ten-foot sections of trees into my living room would ruin the floors.” He was half tempted to tease her about coming out to his place one day so that he could show her his studio and she could look at his etchings. Somewhere beneath all of Joanna’s wariness, he had a feeling there was a sense of humor. He was usually a pretty good judge of character.

  Joanna softly smiled. “I imagine all that chipping and carving can cause quite a mess.” Her left hand stopped toying with the spoon, and she finally seemed to relax. “What did you do before becoming an artist?”

  This was the part where he usually jokingly said “a little of this and a little of that.” He didn’t want to hedge with Joanna. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t appreciate it and that it would damage what little trust there was between them. “I really would rather my past not be broadcast all over town.”

  “Why not?” Joanna’s gaze turned cautious.

  He had been afraid of that. Joanna was attributing the worst possible scenario to his past, and her imagination was in overdrive. He could practically see the trust shattering in her eyes. “Because I have found that people see me for what I was, not for who I am.”

  “What were you?” Joanna’s fingers went back to the spoon, and her one foot was shaking so much that he was amazed the vibrations didn’t knock over their drinks.

  What in the world did she think? That he’d just gotten out of prison, or that he had been a drug lord who had spent all his time flying in and out of Colombia? He lowered his voice so that the other people sitting at the counter or in the other booths couldn’t overhear and tried to put her fears to rest. He whispered, “FBI.”

  Joanna went perfectly still and gave him a funny blank look. “What?”

  He tried not to roll his eyes. Was it really so farfetched that he had worn a suit and tie for twenty-five years while working for the government? “I said”—his voice was just above a loud whisper—“I was an FBI agent.” There wasn’t a person in America who needed those initials spelled out.

  Joanna blinked twice and then did something totally unexpected. She burst out laughing, causing everyone in the place to turn and stare at them.

  He sat there, stunned. He’d known he was attracted to Joanna. Instant attraction and lust he understood. But sitting here, watching her eyes fill with tears of joy and hearing the wonderful sound of her laughter, he was overcome with another emotion. One that would have floored him flat on his backside if he weren’t already sitting down. He was falling in love with the very prim and proper Joanna Stevens.

  Norah pulled her old SUV into the driveway and gave thanks that the vehicle had made it back from Bangor. It was due for some major work, and she’d been putting it off so as not to drain her savings on a hopefully unnecessary expense. She was hoping to buy a new four-wheel drive vehicle before the first snowflake landed in Maine. So far that dream might turn into a reality if she continued nursing it along. But there were no more long hauls in the battered SUV’s future. The trip up from Pennsylvania had been its last hurrah. An occasional trip into Bangor was about all it could handle.

  This morning’s trip to an office supply store had been necessary. Not only had her printer run out of ink, but she was also nearly out of paper, and she was tired of living with all the boxes in the spare room upstairs. Six brand new, three-foot high bookcases had been piled in the back of the SUV b
y some seventeen-year-old fullback on the local high school football team. The fun part now would be not only carrying them into the house and up a flight of stairs, but they also had to be put together.

  It wasn’t how she had been hoping to spend a gorgeous June Saturday, but she’d heard tomorrow was going to be just as nice. Since her mom worked today and had off tomorrow, she figured she’d stay at home today and tackle the room and then play tourist with her mom on Sunday. Maybe her mom would come clean about this Karl James guy. She didn’t know what was going on between her mother and Misty Harbor’s resident artist. All she knew was that they had gone out to lunch together nearly every day this week. Her mother had even gone in early yesterday to meet him before she had to start work at the gallery.

  Working at the gallery was one thing. At first, she had been anxious about her mom working, but that had quickly faded when she saw how happy the job made her mother. Her mother had even stopped cooking dinner at eight in the morning. Joanna Stevens had entered the working world, one that was full of fast food, take out dinners, and frozen entrees. Nothing seemed to give her mother more pleasure than writing in all the spaces on the kitchen wall calendar. It seemed every detail of her mother’s life was written on that calendar, from dental appointments, to her work schedule, to lunch dates with Karl.

  She reached for the bag of merchandise and headed for the house. She should be thrilled that her mother was getting on with her life, but she couldn’t shake the fear that her mother would be hurt again. She was waiting for the lunch dates to turn into dinner dates, and then she’d be the one up until all hours of the night waiting for her mother to come in. When in the heck had their roles in life become reversed? Her own mother was getting out more and having more fun than she was.

  With that depressing thought, the bag almost slipped from her hand as she unlocked the front door and managed to stumble into the house. Not the best beginning, considering she had six bookcases to unload. She tossed the bag and her purse onto the couch and headed back to the car.