After a few minutes, Cab came back inside. He looked grim. “You’ve got some kind of instinct. He brought a state engineer to look at the pier. They’ll probably make us tear it down.”
Abbie let out a huge sigh. “Is that all? He pointed over here and then toward the Crispins’.”
“The town owns the community center. I own the carousel, and my taxes are paid. However, the Crispins are behind. He’s probably stopping there next to remind them their taxes are delinquent and the county will begin proceedings to put the property up for sale. As if Marnie needs reminding.”
“Can they do that?”
“Yes. It happened last year, too. They managed to sell some silver or something and paid the tax and the penalty.”
Abbie bit her lip. “I think that’s what Marnie was planning to do next week. Millie was upset.”
“Millie doesn’t always have a firm grasp on reality.” He flipped the paint can top over and banged it shut with a hammer. “I think I’ll just take a ride over there. Oakley’s a fair enough assessor. But his hands are pretty much tied. Want to come?”
“No. I’d better wait for Sarah. But let me know what happens.”
She stood in the parking lot until Cab’s SUV turned into the Crispin drive. Then she sat down on the stoop of the community center. She didn’t have long to wait. Otis’s heap rattled to a stop; Sarah jumped out and headed for the center. She did a double take when she saw Abbie.
“Well, well, to what do I owe the honor?” Sarah said in a slow drawl.
Abbie frowned at her.
“That’s Southern talk for, so you decided to show up.” She walked past Abbie and unlocked the door.
“Excuse me?” Abbie said. “Who was here all day yesterday by myself? Who waited until Cab could take a dozen kids home? Who drove along on the last batch? And if you want to insult me, I’d rather you’d do it in your normal voice and stop blaming how you feel on some part of the country.” Abbie clamped her mouth shut.
Sarah grinned. “Guess you got up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
“Guess you did, too.”
Sarah sighed, dropping her attitude. “I did,” she said in her own voice. “Talia filled out one of her forms wrong and they’re making her do it again, which means she’ll miss the deadline for the spring SAT. And this morning Jerome’s daddy calls me saying no son of his is going to no art school and call it college. He don’t, and I quote, see why he should go anywhere ’cause Jerome is going to take over the family business.”
“Which is?”
“Collecting old cars for parts. He has an outbuilding on his property that he calls a shop. Hell, Jerome doesn’t even live with him. He stays at Ervina’s to look out for things. But suddenly his daddy thinks he’s got the right to—” Sarah marched through the house, Abbie following. “I swear, I don’t know why I—” She stopped her tirade long enough to yank open the ancient refrigerator’s door. “Bother.”
“I’d tell you,” Abbie said, parking one hip on the old Formica table. “But it’s too cornball.”
“Then don’t. I want to be pissed off for at least another hour.” Sarah took two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed one to Abbie.
“Well, here’s something that might keep you pissed off. The tax man cometh, and he brought a state engineer. Then they drove off toward Crispin House and Cab followed them.”
“Damn the man.” Sarah pulled out one of the aluminum chairs and sat down.
“But it’s not just that. He was pointing to the community center.”
“That all? The town owns it, and they aren’t going to sell unless they can sell the whole package, and that is never going to happen, because Cab will never sell.”
“And what about Crispin House?”
“That’s a problem; they barely eked through last year, and I think Cab helped them out. The problem is the county keeps reassessing the property. Taxes around here have tripled in the last few years, and Cab isn’t made of money. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s sunk a load into the carousel.”
“He’s taking a big risk, isn’t he?”
“It’s what he loves. He thinks it’s worth the risk. You should understand that.”
“I do. At least I did. Sometimes the price is too high.”
“Is it?”
The outer door opened and slammed shut. Loud voices and scuffling followed.
“They’re here,” Sarah intoned in a creditable imitation of Jack Nicholson.
Abbie stood up. “I’m on it.” She tossed her empty water bottle in the recycling bin.
Sarah grabbed her elbow as she walked past the table. “You know. You’re not half as screwed up as you think you are.”
Abbie left the room, openmouthed. How could Sarah possibly know how screwed up she was? On the other hand, maybe she was right.
That commitment that inspired Sarah to help Talia and Jerome to get into college, that led Cab to reopening the carousel—Abbie had that fire, too. It was still inside her. It had been derailed for a while by the disaster of the last project, the destruction of a town, the loss of so many lives, including Werner’s.
But her work with him had given her a firm foundation, solid ground to rebuild her life on, if she didn’t let it sink her. It was time to make it her own, just hers. And she’d start with that rowdy bunch of kids in the front room.
Chapter 17
There were ten of them, though she didn’t see Dani and Joe. Abbie felt a bit overwhelmed. She’d seen kids playing and reading when she’d come by before, but now they were all facing her. Waiting.
“Do you guys have projects you’re working on?”
Nothing. Just ten intent faces.
Finally Sarah came through the door. “What’s the matter with you kids? Cat got your tongues?” Several shook their heads, and finally Kyle said, “No.”
“Well, good, ’cause if you don’t start answering, I’m gonna take y’all off to do math problems.”
“Aw, Miz Sarah.”
Sarah gave him a look.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Lucy and Max. Come with me.” Lucy, the girl with the red pigtails, and Max, a tall lanky boy Abbie hadn’t seen before, grumbled but dragged their backpacks to the other side of the room where a beat-up table was stacked with books and papers. At one end an old aqua iMac was hooked up to an older printer. Which was stupid; printers didn’t cost that much.
“I guess the rest of you come with me to the media room,” Abbie said.
“Where’s that?”
“Back here where the film stuff is. This is hereby the Stargazey Point Media Room.”
“Like at the tee-vee station?”
“Our version of it. Who’s been to the television station?”
No one had.
“Okay, everyone take a seat. Where are the twins today?”
“Dunno.”
One of the girls giggled. “Ole Eddie. He probably skunked again. He lock ’em up so they won’t get in trouble when he’s out carousin’.”
“Well,” Abbie said, trying not to think of the two children locked in the closet while the man who was supposed to be taking care of them was tying one on. “Why don’t you bring me up to speed.”
No one said a thing.
“Speed is what cameramen say when their camera is rolling. ‘Speed.’ Before then, if you started filming, the film would be all wobbly.”
“Our film’s all wobbly anyhow.”
“Well, we’ll work on that. Everybody got a seat? Good. Now I�
��m not sure if Sarah has already been over how to plan your interviews.”
“Sarah don’t know squat about interviews,” Sarah called from the front room. “You’re on your own.”
Two of the boys grinned.
After her cursory look at the equipment and the amount of footage they’d gotten so far, it didn’t seem like much work had been going on.
Kyle blew his bangs out of his face and said, “We bring what we got to Jerome and he fixes it.”
“Edits it,” Pauli said and poked Kyle in the ribs. Kyle stood up. “Who you pokin’?”
“Hey,” Abbie said. “No more pokin’ or asking who’s pokin’. Got it?”
Her entire audience stared at her.
“Glad we understand each other.”
“We don’t understand nothin’ you say, missus. You talk funny.”
“Why don’t each of you tell me a little bit about what you’ve been doing so far. Any volunteers to go first?”
There were no volunteers.
Finally Kyle said, “Mainly we just ask questions and write stuff down. Sometimes we get to check the video camera out and take some movies. Then we bring it in and Jerome . . . edits it for us.” He shot Pauli a smug look.
“Jerome is gonna be busy studying for college,” Sarah called from the other room. Was she eavesdropping? “Abbie’s gonna help you do it like real professionals.”
“You know how to do this stuff?”
“I do.”
“How come you know how?”
“I used to work for a television station.”
“What’dja do there?”
“I was the weathergirl.”
Big grins. “You had one of them little sticks and everything?”
“I sure did.”
“It’s not funny,” said one of the girls. “I’d like to be a weathergirl.”
“It’s a great job,” Abbie said.
“You learn to make pictures when you were a weathergirl?”
“No. After that I”—she took a breath—“I worked with a documentary filmmaker.”
“Did you go to Africa?”
“On two projects. Once to Kenya and once to Soweto.”
“You been to Paris?”
“Yes, but just on vacation.”
“You been to Antarctica?”
“No. Have you?”
Everybody had a good laugh at that.
While they were laughing, Abbie found a cassette player and an empty cassette. She slid it down the work counter to Pauli.
“Okay. Pauli, why don’t you tell us something you learned about your family that you didn’t know before.”
After that, everybody was anxious to tell some story of theirs. Some of them were probably true. There was nothing wrong with their imaginations. She just needed to figure out how to ignite it.
Jerome came in while they were all crowded around the computer table indulging in a snack of granola bars, juice packs, and boxes of raisins. He was holding the twins by each hand. They carried overstuffed backpacks, and Dani was also carrying a cloth bag that bulged under the weight of whatever was in it.
Sarah nodded and looked closely at the two children.
Dani came to stand in front of Sarah, her shoulders slumped, her eyes looking at the ground. “Unk says we cain’t do his hist’ry. And to get that fuckin’ thing outta his face. He mad. He broke it.” She put the bag on the floor and wrestled a mangled piece of plastic out of it. The twenty-year-old cassette recorder would never tape again.
Joe stepped up, but kept behind his sister. “We’re sorry, Miz Sarah.”
“Well, heck,” said Sarah, recovering while Abbie stood there burning with anger. “That old thing was on its last leg anyway.” She took the recorder from Dani, gave it one look, and tossed it into the trash. “Don’t worry about it.”
Jerome’s nostrils flared. “He was drunk. Had ’em locked up. Dani and Joe are spending the night with me and Ervina tonight. If he wants them back, he’ll have to come for ’em.” His hands curled into fists.
Abbie shot a look to Sarah, whose mouth tightened. “You don’t really expect trouble from him, do you?”
“Don’t know, but if he comes looking for trouble, he’ll get it with interest.”
“You shut your mouth, Jerome. You’re never going to make it in the world if you slide to the lowest level every time some piece of scum acts true to his nature. You take the high road. And that goes for the rest of you.”
“Ervina gonna put the curse on him,” Dani said defiantly.
“Ervina is not going to put a curse on anybody. Let me think.”
“Couldn’t you call social services?” Abbie asked.
Sarah laughed. “You’re kidding, right? How do you think they got where they are?”
The twins turned to the door and started walking slowly toward it.
“Hey, where are you going?” Abbie blurted out. She was a visitor here, had only known the twins for a few days, but she was with Jerome. Just let anyone try to hurt them.
“We got no fambly hist’ry now,” Dani said.
Not one they wanted to remember anyway, Abbie thought. “But you already took some footage—some pictures—of the gazebo, that’s part of the town’s history.”
“That’s all done up,” Joe mumbled.
“But there’s something else that needs its story told that I don’t think anyone has done yet.” But that would keep everybody’s interest.
Two hopeful children turned back to her.
“The carousel,” Abbie said, hoping she wasn’t promising something she couldn’t deliver on.
“Huh?”
“The merry-go-round. Has anyone thought about documenting it?”
Their eyes grew rounder. “Mr. Cab’s merry-go-round?”
“The very one. It’s a big part of Stargazey Point’s history. And it should get to be documented, too.” Abbie mentally crossed her fingers that Cab wouldn’t mind having a couple of children underfoot while he was trying to work.
“We’ll have to ask him first if it’s okay.”
“He’ll say no.”
“Maybe not,” Abbie said.
Sarah shook her head, but she was smiling. “Well, you’re in luck, ’cause I think I just heard his Range Rover pull up outside.”
“Well, let’s go ask him,” Abbie said, not feeling nearly as enthusiastic as she sounded. Surely Cab wouldn’t disappoint the twins further by not allowing them into the carousel.
Nothing ventured nothing gained, she thought and almost laughed. It sounded like something one of the Crispins would say. She took each twin by the hand. “Come on, you two, let’s go talk to a man about a horse.”
In the end, the entire group plus Abbie, Jerome, and Sarah were waiting for Cab when he got out of the car.
Cab turned to see a whole boatload of kids surrounding his SUV, but it was Abbie he saw first.
“Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, a little spasmodically, then she smiled, narrowed her eyes at him in what he thought must be her attempt at the evil eye.
“We’ve got an offer you can’t refuse.” An even more intent stare.
“Okay,” he said slowly. She was trying to send him a message. Something he couldn’t refuse. He just hoped he could say yes and not disappoint her and evidently everyone else.
Dani and Joe, the twins, flanked her and they leaned into her. She was too thin for them to hide behind.
“We were just discussing how good for business it would be if there was documentation of the carousel renovation.”
She sounded so stilted that he had trouble not laughing.
“I’ve thought of that myself,”
“And the twins need a project,” she said. Moving closer, she added under her breath, “They won
’t get in your way; just take a little footage to make into a tape.”
He took one look at those kids and the others surrounding them and knew he was suckered.
“Excellent idea,” he said and watched Abbie’s face relax in relief.
Sarah gave him a nod of approval, and the twins, miraculously recovering from their shyness, jumped up and down. “We gonna film the merry-go-round! We gonna film the merry-go-round!”
Damn if it didn’t break his heart. “I’d better go tell Beau.”
He headed for the carousel and realized he was being followed by the entire group. Abbie gave him a look that said it was out of her control. He tried not to smile. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be patient enough to let the twins be underfoot, much less a dozen of them.
He didn’t really have any experience with children. But that wasn’t entirely true, he realized as he stopped at the door and turned to face the group again. Every summer of his boyhood, he’d seen faces like these waiting in line to ride the carousel. He’d shared the excitement and the wonder. Hell, that was part of the reason he’d come back.
“I’ll give you a quick tour, but stick together and don’t touch anything. I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he said in an afterthought. He was actually more concerned about his animals than he was about the kids and that was surely the wrong way around.
He took a breath and opened the door. They all piled in, and the delighted sighs and squeals that he’d been imagining for the last year became a reality. And he felt damned good.
Beau must have heard them, because he came to the door of the workshop, looking slightly dazed. He quickly disappeared again. Beau didn’t share his work and it had been a hell of a time convincing him to work on the carousel at all. Cab didn’t know what had happened all those years ago that made Beau give up his art, but whatever it was, Beau was still not willing to acknowledge his gift.
Cab hoped to hell having the kids here wouldn’t drive him away. It would take the two of them and more to get the carousel up and running by summer.
For a second Cab felt that sick drop of his stomach when he actually considered what might happen if he failed. Or if he became bored or went broke. He could always get another job as an architect or contractor; that’s not what scared him. What scared him most was that his dream would turn out to be bogus, and all the work and love and hope he’d put into it would betray him in the end.
Stargazey Point Page 20
