“Aw, they weren’t so good.”
“Hell of a lot better than now. Everybody had their own houses. There was work to be had on the boardwalk, and the hotels and businesses out on the highway.”
“And the fishin’ was good, too. Not like now with so many rules you don’t know if you’re comin’ or goin’.” Micah Jones shook his head slowly.
“Amen to that,” said Ivy Lee and wandered off toward the kitchen, followed by the other women.
Abbie took the kids into the media room to work on the storyboard. There was some fighting over whose relative went first on the board thing. Even after Abbie explained how things would move around as they developed their story, there was still some grumbling. So she settled them in front of her laptop and showed them what she’d found and edited just that morning. Several minutes of vacation clips people had posted to YouTube, blogs, or Google images. The pictures were grainy and the color was primitive, but it showed a busy Stargazey Point from decades before.
There was some snickering about the fashion as snippets of families darted in and out of the film, strolled along the crowded sidewalk, or posed, smiling, in front of brightly painted buildings. But as soon as the carousel appeared, running at capacity with happily waving children and a few adults, they quieted and stared, mesmerized at the footage. A few women wandered in from the kitchen to watch.
“Look, that’s the center in the background.”
“Where?”
Abbie rewound and slowed the tape to single frame.
“Would you look at that. That’s from when we used to have the co-op here.”
“You had a co-op?” Abbie asked.
“Sure did and a farmers’ market and all sorts of things going on all year-round.”
“We want to see more pictures of the carousel,” said Pauli.
Abbie restarted the video. Everyone, including her, leaned a little closer to see.
When the tape had been watched through the second time, the women reluctantly gathered up their children and headed en masse out the front door. Abbie straightened up the media room, thinking about the past—Stargazey’s past and hers.
She packed up her laptop and camera and locked the rest of the equipment in the closet. She wasn’t taking any chances of someone, namely Eddie Price, ransacking the place again. She checked all the windows and the back door, then doused the lights and left. She was surprised to find Momo, Ivy Lee, and another woman standing in the parking lot. Momo was pointing at Hadley’s or maybe one of the abandoned buildings that lined that part of the street. They must still be reminiscing, while their children climbed over the rotten pier.
They nodded as Abbie passed them, said good night, and went back to whatever their conversation was about. The painters had knocked off work for the day. In the light of the low-lying sun, the carousel fairly glowed with paint and expectation.
She didn’t stop to see if Beau wanted to walk home. She knew they were planning to work late. She just kept walking, feeling a little lonely and not quite sure what she should do about it.
Chapter 25
Abbie awoke to thunder. The sheer drapes billowed through the open French doors of her bedroom. Raindrops drummed and splashed on the veranda floor. She slid out of bed and hurried to close the doors, shivering as her feet hit the cold floor.
The temperature had been climbing steadily as the month wore on. They’d even started leaving the center’s doors and windows open to capture whatever cross breeze they could. But today they seemed to be cast back into winter.
She stood looking out at the rain slashing at a sharp angle and creating waves across the porch floorboards. In the distance the sea swelled dark and gray. She’d gotten used to the afternoon rains that darkened the skies, dumped buckets of rain, and moved on within a matter of minutes. But today it looked like they were in for the long haul.
Which meant the center’s roof would leak like crazy.
She thought of the pails always set strategically beneath known leaks as if they were permanent pieces of furniture. There was one in the media room, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember seeing it there the day before. She vaguely remembered moving it aside to make room for working on the storyboard. But she didn’t remember putting it back.
She quickly made her bed, showered and dressed in a matter of minutes, and went downstairs. She hurriedly drank coffee, while Marnie gathered up a slicker and an umbrella for her. Then she was out the front door and splashing through puddles that had collected in the drive.
She was running by the time she reached the parking lot. Light from the carousel shone hazily through the rain, but the center was still dark. She jogged up the steps, searching for the keys Sarah had given her. The door was partially opened.
Sarah must have had the same idea. Abbie deposited the umbrella and slicker against the porch wall and went inside to help.
“Sarah?” she called into the gloom.
A figure appeared from the hall. Large but unrecognizable in the shadows. Abbie stiffened. Had the town let the twins’ uncle out of jail already? Her mind flew to her equipment.
“Damn you!” she yelled and ran. She’d have to get by him to see what damage he might have done. Instinct told her to run the other way, but pure anger drove her on. If he had destroyed those children’s hard work, she wouldn’t be responsible for what she did to him.
“You son of a bitch,” she spit at him as she tried to pass.
“What?” He grabbed her and stopped her dead. “What the hell did I do now?”
“Cab?” She whooshed out a breath. “Thank God. I thought you were Eddie Price.”
“And you were going to take him out all by yourself?”
“If he had touched that equipment or any of the interviews, I would have.”
He seemed to be pulling her closer. Her smart self told her to ease away, but the rest of her just wanted a safe place to land.
“Do not,” he said, holding her close, “do anything dangerous. This isn’t the jungle or some desolate spot where you have to depend on yourself for survival. You have friends here. You have me, whether you want me or not.”
“I—”
“Whether you want me or not.”
There was no question as to his meaning, and a thrill of excitement and anxiety helixed up her spine. She tried to look up at him, but he held her closer so that she couldn’t see his face. But she could feel his heart beating a rapid tattoo, and her own heart beating a betraying message back to his.
They could have stayed that way forever as far as she was concerned. It felt good, safe, seductive. Then a clap of thunder reminded her of why she was here.
“The leaks.”
“Already taken care of,” he said, refusing to let her budge.
“The media room.”
He laughed. “Already done.”
“There’s a lot of equipment in there and hours of hard work. The kids would be devastated if something happened to the video.”
“Under plastic just in case I missed something. We’re used to this weather. We come prepared.”
“I—”
“Have run out of excuses. And I know what you’re thinking. It’s crazy and probably stupid, but just give it a chance, okay?” He gradually let her go then put her back on her feet. “But don’t think yourself out of it.”
She shook her head, not sure whether she was saying no or telling him that she wouldn’t talk herself out of what obviously they both wanted.
“I have to get back to work.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and left her standing there.
Abbie watched him go, already starting to think herself out of getting involved. Of even having a summer romance. It was too soon. And what if it turned out to be a mistake? Every time they met it would be embarrassing and awkward. So awkward that she’d have to leave before she
was ready.
And how many excuses could she throw in her way? She was ready to move on. The truth of the matter was even though she would always love Werner, she wanted to love someone living.
Love? Holy crap. She barely knew the man. She quickly checked the media room. The pails were set and everything was covered in plastic, just like he said. She stopped at the door, made one last sweep, then went back outside and put on her rain slicker.
Two minutes later she was depositing her umbrella in the inn’s umbrella stand.
Bethanne was sitting at the registration desk, her chin resting in her hand, looking into space.
“Hey,” Abbie said. “Want some company?”
“Sure. Come on back to the office. I just made some tea.”
The office was a small room just large enough for a kneehole desk and several file cabinets, and though utilitarian, it was decorated in the same colors as the rest of the inn. At the back was a double glass door that led out to a narrow sunporch.
Bethanne poured the tea, and they went out to sit at a delicate white tea table.
“This is lovely,” Abbie said, watching the rivulets run down the glass.
“It is,” Bethanne said and sighed. “I serve breakfast out here in spring and summer.”
Abbie sat down across from her and tried to read her expression. Was she missing her husband? It was the kind of weather to bring out the sadness. “You okay?”
“Me? Oh, yeah. Well, not great. The Hendersons’ daughter, Sabrina, is getting married next spring and they’re looking for a place to have the wedding and reception. Sabrina and I are pretty good friends and she wanted her wedding to launch Weddings by the Sea, but there’s no venue in Stargazey Point big enough, not one with any kind of ambience.” She sighed again. “That will be the second big wedding I’ve lost because I can’t accommodate the guest list.”
Abbie thought about Crispin House and Bethanne’s reaction to the gazebo. It would be a perfect venue for a spring wedding. If it were restored. If the Crispins could be convinced to open their house to the public. Abbie just didn’t see Millie ever allowing it.
“So what brings you here this early in the morning?”
Abbie hesitated then thought, What the hell. “I need some advice, sort of.”
“From me? Sure, if I can help.”
Okay, here she was, now how did she start? How could she phrase this without appearing nosy, not to mention rude. “You’ve been alone for a while now, right?”
“Three years and two months, and if I stop and think, I can tell you how many days, but I try not to think.”
“Have you . . . have you seen anyone since then?”
Bethanne frowned. “You mean a therapist?”
“No,” Abbie said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean like a man, a date, that kind of seeing.” A date? Jeez. She sounded like a teenager.
“You mean have I been with a man since Jim died?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s none of my business and you don’t have to tell me. It’s just—”
Bethanne tilted her head, her frown turned to speculation, then to a slight smile. “Have you and Cab . . . ?”
“No.”
“But you’re thinking about it. ”
Abbie’s face heated. She was bumbling around like a teenager about to lose her virginity. And in a way she was. She’d had plenty of experience before Werner. But after meeting him, she had never thought about life without him. Now he was gone, and everything was new and frightening and confusing. “I don’t know.”
Bethanne leaned toward her. “It’s okay. It’s hard being lonely all the time. And I hope when, if, I meet someone, I’ll be ready to start over again. Or start from here anyway. So my guess is when it feels right, it’ll happen.”
Abbie groaned. “I was hoping for a more definitive answer. Don’t tell anyone we had this conversation. I’m not taking a poll; I just needed to talk to someone who might understand.”
Bethanne smiled suddenly. “Stargazey is a small town. We’ve all been wondering how long it would take you two to get together. Cab is a romantic at heart. He’s gaga over you. And you seem to be the only one in town who hasn’t noticed.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make things any easier.”
“Well, if you really want advice, I’d say stop fighting it and let nature take its course.”
Abbie returned to the center, heedless of the rain, and just as confused as she had been before talking to Bethanne. She didn’t know if she trusted nature to do the right thing. And now she was embarrassed that she and Cab had been the object of speculation. Small-town curiosity. It was something she’d have to get used to if she stayed.
If she stayed? When had a vacation, a change of scene, a chance to regroup become a possible future?
I kinda propositioned her,” Cab told Beau as they sat on the carousel platform, drinking their Tackle Shack coffees.
Beau shook his head. “Seems to me you went from zero to sixty pretty fast.”
“Tell me about it. I also maybe told her I was available and willing even if she wasn’t.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. I might have cut her off before she could tell me to go to hell.”
“And then?”
“I told her to think about it, said I had to get back to work, and left.”
“Lord, son. Never give a woman time to think. She’ll just make it more complicated than it really is. I thought you had better sense than that.”
Cab studied the cardboard cup. “I used to. I don’t know why this is not working out.”
“None of my business, but you’re not trifling with her, are you?”
Cab stood up. “No. I’m not doing anything with her.” He sat back down just as abruptly. “I’m not usually so inept.”
“ ’Spect you’re just out of practice. If you want my advice, if she’s the one, don’t let her get away.”
“How do I know? I thought Bailey was the one. And, boy, did I get that wrong.”
“From everything you’ve said about that young lady, I think she was a just-settle-for.”
Cab snorted. “Bailey? She was a prize.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t given her up?”
“No, but I knew where things were with her. Shoes, shopping, society, and me. In that order.”
“Don’t sound too appetizing.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then what’s worrying you about Abbie?”
“I don’t know. I keep getting mixed signals from her. She keeps me off balance. I can’t seem to make it past that protective barrier. She’s skittish and unpredictable and energetic and passionate.”
“And independent.”
“And,” Cab said dejectedly, “she’s still mourning Werner.”
“Can’t compete with a dead man.”
Cab cut Beau a look. “Are you saying I should back off?”
Beau slapped his knee. “Sometimes, you sure are slow on the uptake. I’m saying, you’re not dead, and neither is she. Hell, if I was even twenty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.” He chuckled. “One thing you gotta say about that girl. You’d never get bored.”
“Did you ever meet the one?”
Beau lifted both bushy eyebrows. “Met a lot of ones. But not ‘the one.’ The one got away.”
Cab cocked his head, waiting for more.
“It was a long time ago. I was real young. My family did not approve. My daddy . . . Well, I ’spect you’ve heard about our daddy. Son of a bitch. Gave me hell. Sent me off to join the navy. I ran off and joined the merchant marines just to be ornery. Best move I ever made. It was a good life. Hard work and a lot of good times.”
“Did you ever regret leaving?”
“What’s the use in that? When I was here, I got all
the grief and none of the joy. I’ve had my share of fun since then. But if I had it to do again . . . I don’t know.
“Don’t let that happen to you, son. If you’re serious, let her know it. Then you’ll know if she returns your feelings and you can stop worrying about it.” He pushed to his feet. “Now let’s get this molding finished so we can start reloading the menagerie.”
Cab tossed his cup in the trash can. Easy for Beau to say. Fortunately he wasn’t twenty years younger, because Cab had a feeling in a contest for Abbie, Beau would win.
He didn’t have a clue as to what to do next. He didn’t have time to wine and dine the woman. He was working overtime at the carousel. And she had her own work at the center. She’d settled into a comfort zone, one that evidently didn’t include him.
He followed Beau over to the new ticket booth and positioned the yellow trim for Beau to nail.
Was she the one? He’d only known her for a few weeks, and yet it seemed like it. Even when he’d first met her and mistrusted her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And since then she’d become a constant presence even when she wasn’t around.
Infatuation? Possibly. A quick summer affair? Definitely possible. But Beau was right. How would they know it was more if they didn’t take a chance?
The rain kept up for two days. Abbie thought it might keep some of the children away, but she was wrong.
Family members trekked in and out of the center. Sarah had to hang a clothesline on the porch to serve as a coatrack, and Abbie sacrificed her wastebasket to use as an umbrella stand.
“Amazing,” Sarah said. “Who knew wooden horses could garner such interest.”
Abbie gave her a look.
“All right. You were right. And . . . you were right. Thanks. There might even be bits of real history to be gleaned from these reminiscences.”
The center began to hum with voices remembering the past. More people came in to be interviewed and by the following week, the board thing was filled to capacity.
Mothers and grandmothers and aunts who had already been interviewed came anyway and sat in the kitchen until it was time for the children to go home. They drank tea and ate homemade sweets and sometimes helped out with the kids.
Stargazey Point Page 30
