“Yeah,” Maddy sighed. “Our Suzie presents a picture.”
“How'd you come to know Cori?”
She laughed. “She came with the house.”
“That sounds like a story.”
“Cori is a trained nurse and was working at a skilled nursing facility in Boston when my grandmother was admitted for rehab after she fractured her hip.”
Az winced. Maddy concurred. “Scared the crap out of me, but she and Cori hit it off immediately. They had a hatred of rules and regulations in common. I wanted to quit school, bring Gran home to Serenity Harbor and care for her but she pitched a fit over that idea and insisted I finish my education.”
“I wish I could have known her,” he said. “She sounds like a wonder.”
Maddy nodded. “I loved her so much, Az. She was the only family I ever had so I couldn't say no to anything she wanted.”
“Tough decision. How did it work out?”
“Between a clever paralegal from Gran's attorney's office and a bit of ingenuity on Cori's part, they found a two bedroom apartment near the hospital. Cori quit her job and moved in with Gran for the last two years of her life.” Slowly, carefully, she said, “I wouldn't have made it through grad school with all the travel it required without knowing Gran was safe. It was Cori's choice to accompany me to Maine after we lost her.”
“Do you think your grandmother would approve the changes you've made?”
“I hope so.”
* * *
“Thanks for showing me the Grille, Az,” she said against the cool breeze in her face. “I enjoyed the lobster rolls very much.”
The night was warm enough for her to roll down the window in the Bronco and enjoy the ride back home to White Pine Lane. It helped that his choice in music matched hers. She'd always been a sucker for Tony Bennett or Vic Damone when they sang about aching loss. Before she knew it, she was humming along as Tony crooned about a girl with moonlight in her eyes.
She didn't even notice when the Bronco slowed and came to a full stop. She opened her eyes to see he'd pulled off the road to a paved area overlooking a remote beach with the ocean beyond. Before she could ask, he said, “I can't listen to Tony Bennett without wanting to dance.”
He was out of the driver's seat and around the front hood to her door. Giving her no time to decline, Az pulled her from the SUV and into his arms to finish the tune.
Aw, Gawd, the man could dance. And he was sneaky, proving it when he eased a hand to the nape of her neck and loosened the clip with a quick snap of his fingers. “I love this,” he murmured. “The streaks of gold and bronze. It feels like silk.” He sniffed audibly and went back to nuzzling her neck. “Do you ever wear it down?”
“Under special occasions,” she admitted as Tony segued into a smooth duet with k. d. lang for “It Had to be You”. Ugh. Her absolute favorite love song.
“What qualifies as special?” he murmured and spun her into a circle on the sand covered pavement.
“Visits to the hair dresser.”
“I was hoping more along the lines of the shower or bedroom.”
Her hands crept to his shoulders. “I've been known to sleep once in awhile and occasionally shower--if tempted.”
“Ever do it with a friend?”
She could play this game. And it'd been much too long. “Only with very close, very deserving friends.”
“How does one earn a rating on the Deserving List?”
She was about to respond when a passing car slowed and someone cat-called, “Get a room, why doncha?”
* * *
“Buttermilk soaked pork chops?” one of the carpenters said as he helped himself to seconds. “Gotta tell the wife about these.”
Suzie put a bowl of grilled corn and red peppers in front of the diners. “If you eat all your vegetables, Bobby, I'll copy the recipe. You'll be her hero.”
Uri Hanson lifted a fork of mixed green salad. “Never had this type of lettuce before, didn't even know it came in this purple color. What's it called?”
She snorted in disdain. “No big surprise since the BuyRite considers bag o'salad to be gourmet offerings. Stick with me, gentlemen, I'll have your palates matured from kindergarten to graduate school range before you know it. Tomorrow we're having a goat cheese souffle.”
The Hanson brothers shared a look. “You understand what she just said?”
Brack shrugged. “Don't know, don't care. I made the unfortunate decision to marry a girl just like our Ma: neither of them knows a saute pan from a popcorn popper.”
“And don't want to neither,” Uri said.
Maddy finished her salad of field greens, cranberries and feta cheese before refocusing Uri on a more pressing issue. “How is scheduling the HVAC inspector to come out to check on the system coming?”
Uri shared a look with Az before reaching for a multi-grain scone. “Coming.”
“What does that mean?” she insisted. “Until we have approval on the heating and air conditioning, we can't move on painting and construction of built-ins for the kitchen and staff offices. Please, Uri, we've come so far, thanks to Az staying on their backs. If I'm not ready to open by August first, I'll be very … disappointed.”
“Don't blame me,” he said, hands up in a pose of innocence. “I made the propah calls; it's in their pahk now.”
The theme from “Miami Vice”, the specialized ring tone for Az's cell phone sounded just as Maddy was about to look to him for help. Again. It grated like hell but she'd sent pride into the hopper days ago.
He stood, raised a finger and mouthed, “HVAC inspector”, then left by the porch door, slamming it in his wake. She watched him pace the parking lot as he spoke, fists clenched at his sides, a dark look on his face.
Her Gran's voice rang loud in her brain. A woman fights her own battles, acushla.
* * *
Early the next morning, Lou took himself off to Boston to shop the fabric warehouses because the shops in Serenity Harbor didn't have the choices he wanted, nor did any jump up and down with offers to place special orders for him. Could be true, but Maddy sensed her friend's need for some alone time with his latest squeeze. And, as Lou said often enough, now wasn't the time to advertise his alternative lifestyle to the populace of Serenity Harbor.
Just after he pulled out of the driveway, a clerk from Ocean's End phoned to say the art work Lou ordered was no longer available. Something about the artist promising the three sketches to another buyer but neglected to notify gallery. They promised to call if and when similar pieces came in. Maddy dreaded telling Lou the news. He'd been so excited about hanging the pen and ink scenes of the wharf in Bar Harbor in the second floor suite designated for the treasures Gran had brought back from the Amalfi Coast.
“The fun never ends,” she muttered and with barely time to take her next breath, picked up the next call.
It was the HVAC inspector, Roger somebody, recognizable by the graveled quality in his voice, said he was tied up on another site and would have to reschedule the appointment Az had made with him for today's inspection.
She simply couldn't muster the energy to argue--or issue the inviting threat to take her business elsewhere. Az had confided the other night that Roger was the only qualified HVAC inspector within a fifty mile radius. Taking deep breaths for patience, she hung up the phone.
“Every damn time I make a step closer to the finish line, someone or something erects another roadblock and puts me back two steps.”
Suzanne Quimby to the rescue. “Come with me,” she said and took Maddy by the hand. “Grab your satchel and plastic. We are on for a bit of retail therapy in Portland.”
“Yeah, but--”
“No buts. Didn't you say you the art dealer on DeKalb Street called to say he has his appraisal on the artwork ready?”
“At one, yes.”
“Let's get a move on, girlfriend.” Suzie rubbed her hands together and grinned like the villains in old-time silent movies. “We'll hit a few consignment s
hops before the appointment, grab some lunch, then buy out the kitchen equipment stores.”
* * *
At the first consignment shop they unearthed a pair of drapes that would work in the Bohemian suite--Suzie said as she gushed over the crimson and gold Jacquard print. Without a whimper Madeleine handed over the business credit card.
While waiting for the transaction to finish, Suzie found more items which she was certain would work in the guest dining room. “We're in Maine, right?”
“Last I looked,” the clerk said with a grin.
She dumped her finds on the counter: plaques and odd pieces of pottery in nautical themes, then coordinating linen napkins, table mats and runners in navy and white nautical stripes offset with bright red lobsters in each corner. “These are in excellent condition. Some have the original price tag on them.”
Before ringing up, the clerk looked to Maddy for approval. “These came from a seafood restaurant in Serenity Harbor. It went out of business almost before it opened.”
Maddy heaved a sigh. Not for the added cost, more for the loss of someone's dream of having their own business go belly up before it had a chance to thrive. With Suzie lurking over her shoulder, Maddy gave in. “Sure, what the hell. Ring me up.”
Loaded down with shopping bags, they walked the two blocks down DeKalb to the art gallery, only to be met with disappointment. The clerk on duty informed the women that the owner-appraiser had been called away on an emergency but would return by two. He stressed that Maddy not return to Serenity Harbor until they spoke. The clerk then recommended an upscale diner a few blocks down that was favored by local shop keepers as well as shoppers.
Immediately on entering, the women were seated in a side booth whose seats appeared to be church pews in a former life. Maddy ordered a Cobb salad, Suzie the lobster crepes.
The lettuce was crisp, the broccoli steamed to al dente, the strips of chicken breast grilled to perfection. While Maddy savored the tangy flavors of blue cheese and bacon bits, Suzie groaned over the crepes. “Christ, these are as good as mine. Do you think they'd share the recipe?”
“The way our luck has been running,” Maddy groused, “it's got a patent pending or is under copyright with the Library of Congress.”
“I can't believe the inspectors are all that busy in Serenity Harbor,” Suzie said. “It's not like we're talking Boston or Concord, for Christ's sweet sake.” Always the cynic, she drilled Maddy with a sour look. “Between Lou's artwork which all of a sudden becomes unavailable and another delay with the inspectors, aren't you beginning to smell a rat in the woodshed?”
Despite her aversion to asking for help, again, she said, “I'll give Az a call when we get back to the Lodge. If anyone can pull strings, it'd be him.”
With a look that conveyed she'd believe that fairy story when pigs flew over Serenity Harbor, Suzie returned to the crepe. “How was your date the other night?”
Maddy forked up a chunk of crispy romaine lettuce. “Fine.”
“No, really. How did it go?”
Truthfully, the drive along the coast at dusk, with the rays of a dying sun sparkling off the ocean waves had been better than fine. Maddy wasn't quite ready to share the details with anyone, even Sue. Any man who appreciated slow, dreamy love songs as Az seemed to deserved reconsideration of her personal vow not to become involved until the Lodge was up and running.
Bottom line, the way he kissed was beginning to tip the scale in his favor. Her insides took to churning when she recalled how it felt to have his mouth moving against hers. The man kissed as good as he danced.
“You should consider dating,” Suzie said, signaling the waitress for refills on their iced teas.
“Dating? Who?”
“Start with a man; work your way up the food chain.”
The path of this conversation clearly needed reversal--back onto Suzie and her recent dates with Mark Morris, the Fire Chief. Her question was delayed by the arrival of two men in workman's gear who lumbered past their booth and took one directly behind theirs. Heavy odors of beer combined with stale cigarettes wafted off their clothing.
The close proximity of the booths made it impossible to avoid hearing their conversation. When one belched loudly, Suzie wrinkled her nose, then pushed the remains of the crepe to the side.
“So,” the first one said to his belching buddy. “What excuse did you give the Masshole woman from That Place about the delay in the inspection?”
Maddy stiffened, flashed a quick look at Suzie and saw that her face had turned to stone.
“Az himself gave me a beaut: urgent matter with an unsafe living conditions took priority. Too bad; so sad. Better luck next week. Maybe. ”
Maddy bowed her head, blinked back the flood of betrayal that threatened to choke her. They were talking about her. And the Lodge. And Az
Who'd supplied the excuse for the latest delay.
She identified one of the men by voice: Roger the HVAC inspector who not only belched without thought of anyone else's comfort, but also had a voice that sounded like it had been roughed up with sand paper.
Suzie raised her butt off the bench seat, leaned over the table and hissed, “The next time I see that puss-faced Az Hanson, I'll be sure to have my boning knife.”
The first guy said, “With his wife dropping him like an A-Bomb last year, wonder how long it'll take before old Az puts his brand on her?”
“Have you met her?” Roger growled and belched again. “Man, I gotta get back on my meds. This heartburn is killing me.”
“Which one? The blond who's built like Charlize Theron with legs that stretch from here to gone?”
“Don't care what she looks like,” Roger said. “Only talked with her over the phone. She's got a voice for phone sex though. Low and throaty. Gives a man ideas.”
“Wait'll you see her up close and in person,” the other said. “Saw Az and her at Lookout Point the other night. Dancin'. She's struts around like one of those high-highfalutin models you see on the magazine racks at the BuyRite.”
“I meant the other one,” Roger said. “The redhead with all the tats.”
The waitress swung by, left the check for Maddy and Sue, then moved on to deliver a pitcher of beer and two glasses next door. “You gentlemen ready to order?”
“I'll take the jumbo pulled pork sandwich,” Roger growled. “Heavy on the sauce, with a side of slaw and onion rings.”
“Pork,” Suzie muttered and leaned back, craning an ear closer to the back of the booth. “Fits the profile.”
Maddy hushed her. “I want to hear the rest.” I need to hear the rest.
“I heard about the redhead with the tats,” the first one said. “I'm not into that kinda crap. I like my art work on paper.”
“You may not be but I sure as hell am. I wonder how far down they go,” Roger said and finished the sentence with an idea so crude, the Cobb salad threatened a return visit directly into Maddy's lap.
“I've already given the Masshole whore so many excuses,” Roger whined, “I don't know what I'll come up with next.”
“Why not tell her the truth?”
“What? That the Town Council wants her property to turn into a casino and are using the Hansons to help them do it?”
The two women stared at each other. Casino? Suzie mouthed.
“All we gotta do is keep delaying the inspections,” Roger claimed over another from the toes burp. “I'm with the Town Council on this: we do not need a whorehouse in Serenity Harbor.”
“I thought it was gonna be a spa or something.”
“B and B not a spa. And read between the lines, my friend. A sauna room, I hear and whirlpool tubs in the guest suites. Sounds like a whorehouse to me right enough. You know, her granny was the madam there years ago; that's how Masshole Maddy came to own the property.”
“No shit?”
Apparently Roger wasn't finished. “Who knows, maybe she whored herself out as a kid. Even back in the day there were always plenty of pervs w
ho liked 'em real young. Trust me, she's planning to set herself up as madam and bring in whores. Expensive ones. New York or San Francisco, Vegas maybe.”
Frantic for fresh air, Maddy pushed out of the booth. “I have to get out of here. Take care of the tip.”
Suzie waited until she saw Maddy hand the bill to the woman behind the cash register before she made her move. She turned, slid the few steps to the next booth where the two drunken pigs were scarfing down their beers. After opening her coat and yanking down the neckline of her scoop-neck shirt, she leaned low over the table. And smiled.
Confronted with a female chest covered in brightly colored body art from collar bones to mounds of barely contained flesh inside a black lace bra, their jaws dropped far enough to have bits of pulled pork falling onto their plates.
With a wiggle of shapely hips and a raucous giggle, she said, “Just to let you both know, the tats go all the way down. So much so, if I were to stroll bare-assed down the middle of Main Street, no one would know if I was dressed or not.”
She turned to leave, then glanced over her shoulder at the two men who looked thunderstruck. “Confused? Use your imaginations.”
* * *
In the sourest of moods, Maddy approached the art gallery with Suzie hurrying to bring up the rear. The owner-appraiser beamed them a smile that lit up the room. “Miss Flynn, I'm so relieved you came back. I apologize for the delay but when I tell you the reason why I was late, you'll understand.”
After he showed both women to his office, Maddy declined a chair, choosing instead to stand. And fume. She doubted she'd ever been this angry. Even when that oinker UMASS professor announced to the entire class of first year students that because of fluctuating hormone levels, hotel management was no field for a female. The jerk.
Suzie didn't mind sitting. She even poured herself a glass of water from the carafe on the man's desk. “We are sorta pressed for time. Need to get back to Serenity Harbor, brew of a batch of Hemlock cookies and Oil of Newt Soup to serve a couple assholes.”
Welcome to Serenity Harbor Page 9
