Worth a Thousand Words

by Doreen Alsen

  They told a story of a beautiful woman, as the day moved into twilight on the beach. They were lyrical and filled with music.

  They didn’t tell an ugly, hopeless, sensational story. They spoke to peace and yearning.

  He’d never taken pictures like this before.

  Tim got up and walked around his kitchen, while he ran his fingers through his hair. He should be jumping up and down, having the ability to see the truth through a camera lens again.

  He wondered if she’d pose for him. She had to pose for him. It wasn’t an option.

  He’d have to keep trying to capture moments when she was unself-conscious and at ease. He’d worry about getting a written, legal release if and when he ever did anything with the magic of Angie.

  Chapter Four

  Angelique stared at the green T-shirt Birdie McCorkle held up for her. “Now, this is the top, you see. You’ll need to tuck it in.” She looked askance at Angelique’s black, cropped skinny jeans and the tortoise shell patent leather flats Angelique wore.

  Angelique looked down at the shoes, filled with delight. They were from last year’s Michael Kors’ fall collection and he’d given her a pair. She thought them adorable, with their pointed toes and shiny surfaces, and, of course, they went with everything.

  “Now here’s the shirt, so go in the staff room and try it on.” Birdie pressed her lips together. “Might you have any more sturdy or comfortable shoes to wear, dear?”

  Angelique smiled. “Oh, these are very comfy. I’ll be fine.”

  “They’re your feet I suppose. Now go get changed and I’ll take you around and introduce you to the crew, especially Patricia who you’ll be following today.”

  “Great,” Angelique replied, pasting a sunny smile on her face as she took the dreadful green shirt. She checked out the tag and groaned. There was some cotton in there, as in traces, but she wondered how many polyesters had died to make that shirt.

  She’d taken an antihistamine so she wouldn’t break out in hives. Little itchy, red spots were hardly attractive, to say the least. She thought she still had enough of her Temple Spa skin regime products left, but if she didn’t?

  Disaster. Total and complete disaster.

  She had more to worry about than skin care products. She pushed the heavy, dark framed hipster glasses she wore as a disguise up her nose, where they were more comfortable.

  After settling the shirt around her and tucking it in so it looked kind of flattering, she stepped out, ready to begin her new career.

  “Let me have a look at you,” Ms. McCorkle ordered. She sighed. “I guess you’ll do. Go on now with you to the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” Angelique took a couple of steps and looked back just in time to see Ms. McCorkle make the sign of the cross.

  ****

  Tim squinted as he looked to the wind direction indicator on top of the mast then pulled the genoa sheet to eke out just a little more speed from his sailboat, Fantasy. A Melges 24, this honey of a boat was one of the hottest racing boats around.

  Actually, it was the fastest boat he could buy.

  These days he lived for pushing the limits, to go as fast as he possibly could. The limitless horizon, the slap of the waves as Fantasy cut through them, the salt spray stinging his face all went a long way to keep away the demons.

  He’d been sailing for as long as he could remember. As a matter of fact, it was a near miss that his mother hadn’t given birth to him right in the middle of Nahant Bay, where his hometown of Addington, Massachusetts bordered. His parents had to call the Coast Guard to get her off the boat and to the hospital. Tim chuckled at the story. His mother and father loved to tell it to anyone who would listen. Again and again.

  Right now, the two of them navigated their dream trip, to make it from the St. Lawrence Seaway all the way down to Key West. Retirement hadn’t slowed either of them down. Just one more item checked off their bucket list.

  The wind shifted a bit and he re-trimmed the genoa and the mainsail so he’d hit Sheep Porcupine Island sooner if the wind held.

  He pondered how he could get the lovely Angie to come on a sail with him. He probably should find out what her last name was before he took her sailing.

  She intrigued him more than any other woman, ever. There was a story there in that scar and he itched to hear it, especially since she seemed to have given him back his ability to take pictures.

  Tim hoped the shots he took last night weren’t a fluke. He needed his gift back, and she might be the key to unblock him.

  He’d just have to walk Chester again tonight and see what Angie was up to. Sometimes it was good to own a dog.

  He grinned. Okay. It was good to own a dog all the time.

  ****

  Angelique didn’t think she could hoist another tray of dirty dishes. Her arms, shoulders, and upper back ached underneath the weight of the food encrusted plates and bowls, and the filmy glasses still partially filled with liquid.

  Her oh-so-cute shoes cut into her skin, creating blisters, the patent leather got a few cracks, and she’d stepped into something slippery and definitely unsavory.

  She’d never get the smell of grease out of her hair.

  Worst of all? She’d broken a nail and who knew where you could get a quality manicure here.

  Thank heaven the lunch rush looked to be about over.

  She hauled the heavy tray into the kitchen to the dishwasher. Groaning, she leaned it on the edge of the stainless steel counter and unloaded the dishes.

  Birdie McCorkle came up behind her. “Angie! Just who I’m after finding.”

  Angelique turned. “Is everything okay?”

  “Aye. We just need you to the office and fill out some forms so we can pay you. I also want to make sure you see the patio area around back. Sometimes people have cocktails out there and you need to know where it is.”

  “Okay. Just let me wash my hands.” She winced as she took a step.

  Birdie clucked her tongue as she looked at Angelique’s shoes. “They look a little worse for wear, don’t they?”

  She sighed. “I guess you were right.”

  “Sure and I was. I always am. Let’s go.”

  Angelique limped along behind her.

  They walked through the elaborate gardens and paths behind the inn. Gorgeous Adirondack style benches lined the way to the patio.

  “Here we are,” Birdie said. “Isn’t the view spectacular?”

  The patio was a small lookout area that sat over the rocks, like a shelf. An ornate iron fence bordered the natural rock floor. It jutted out over the water like it was suspended into space. The wind picked up the closer they got to the edge, creating a bit of instability. Angelique felt her stomach turn over and her breath caught in her throat.

  She was terrified of heights.

  “Go on, go look over the fence. The cove is beautiful from here.”

  Angelique reached out and braced herself against an iron chair some ways from the edge. A wave of dizziness made her ears buzz. “No, it’s okay. I’m good.”

  Birdie gave her a quizzical look. “Well then, let me show you the lanai.”

  Angelique nodded, ready to go anywhere away from the patio edge and followed her.

  The lanai was quite lovely, with a fire pit and padded furniture and a little bit further away from the cliffs. Thank God.

  At the end of the tour, Birdie took Angelique to her office. She picked up a packet of papers and handed them to her. “Here, take these home, fill them out, and bring them back tomorrow. I’ve scheduled you for breakfast and lunch again.” Birdie flashed her a grim smile. “And, for the love of sweet baby Jesus, lass, get a sensible, sturdy pair of shoes.”

  “So, does this mean I have a job?”

  “That it does, me girl, that it does. Oh, and I almost forgot.” She pulled a wad of single dollar bills out of her pocket. “This is your share of the tips today.”

  “Tips?” Didn’t only wait staff get tips?

  “The waiters
are expected to give the bussers fifteen percent of their tips. You worked hard. So, here. Good job today.”

  Angelique’s hands shook a little as she took the money from her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get on home and soak those poor feet of yours.”

  Angelique smiled at her as she slid out of the office as fast as her injured little tootsies could take her.

  Chapter Five

  Tim sat on his deck, kicking back, and scowled at his camera, willing it to work with him and start taking the kinds of pictures he used to take.

  He picked up the ice cold, condensation beaded bottle of Thunder Hole Stout and drank deep, the bubbles prickling down his throat. He welcomed the discomfort. The sea was mirror still and a placid shade of blue. If he kept his gaze trained out to the horizon, he might catch a glimpse of a herd of whales or dolphins.

  He heard some commotion from Angie’s patio. Glancing over, he saw her limping and carrying a beach chair down her steps. She also muttered some terse French words that sounded like curses.

  She put her chair down where the waves broke against the beach and lowered herself onto the chair, wincing as she did. Kicking her feet into the surf, she let her head drop against the seat back.

  Tim didn’t even think. He just picked up his camera and started clicking away. The ethereal light created a perfect backdrop for this goddess kicking in the foamy water then burying her feet in the ocean-cooled sand.

  Clad in a pair of shorts and a red bikini top, Angie practically vibrated against the perfect blue of the water. Of course, he was photographing her from the back but that dark hair of hers flew in the light wind.

  Standing up, Chester padded over to Tim and put his head on Tim’s thigh, pitiful brown eyes begging for permission to go out and say hello to his new friend.

  Well, it was only the neighborly thing to do, right?

  Tim would find out.

  ****

  Angelique sat on her beach chair, inhaling the June breeze that always carried the taste of salt. Of course that salt wasn’t doing her hair and complexion any favors.

  Her feet felt a lot better than they had when she’d hobbled out of the Sea Crest Inn. Still, a good soak in the ocean and some of the foot balm she had for after a long day walking the runway should do the trick.

  “Hey!”

  Oh, look. Her handsome neighbor, Tim, with his very large dog.

  They stood at the bottom of their stairs watching her with matching grins. Well, not quite matching. The dog’s tongue stuck out of his mouth while Tim kept his in his mouth.

  “Hey,” she called back. She stood, only wincing a little bit. “Out for a walk?”

  He held up the leash. “Yep. Want to come along?”

  She hid a grimace that threatened to spread all over her face. “Uh, no thank you. I’m happy to stay right here for now. It’s a pretty and restful view.”

  “That it is.” He looked out to the distance. “So, Miss Angie No Last Name, what did you do today?” He smiled at her. “Or maybe you can let me know your last name.”

  Angelique’s breath hitched. She’d give him the name she’d put on those tax forms she had to fill out. “Doucette. Angie Doucette.”

  He raised his brows. “Doosit? Angie Doosit? That’s not a name you hear around these parts. But then, your accent is a big clue that you’re from somewhere warmer.”

  “That’s true.” She looked out over the water. “But I like it here. Lobster Cove is very charming and low key. The people are friendly.”

  He put the hand she’d released into his cargo shorts pocket. “Low key is good. People pretty much leave you alone if you don’t want to socialize.”

  “It’s definitely a plus.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

  He bent down and picked up a sizeable piece of driftwood. “Hey! Chester!” He threw the stick. “Fetch!”

  The dog woofed and galloped after it.

  “He’s not as scary when he’s not running at top speed, mouth open to show those big teeth, and barking up a storm.”

  Tim laughed. “He’s a good dog.” Chester skidded to a halt in front of him and dropped the piece of wood on Tim’s feet. He picked up the stick and threw it again. Chester took off like the Tazmanian Devil from the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

  “We had another Dobie when I was growing up, a character named Ruffie. Every day me or my dad would take him for a walk. Ruffie made it his job to pick out one piece of driftwood. It had to be the biggest piece. Then he carried it back to the cottage.” He chuckled. “People started calling him ‘the log dog.’ When he died, we didn’t have to buy any firewood for a year and a half.” He shook his head. “Crazy dog.”

  “We never had any pets. Well, not unless you counted the gators.” Truly, the gators were everywhere on the bayou where she grew up.

  His eyes widened. “Gators, huh? That’s too bad. Dogs are great.” He clapped his hands as Chester careened back with the stick. Tim took it and threw it again. The dog whooped with joy and ran to get it. “His idea of heaven. Except he practically swoons when you scratch behind his ears.”

  Angelique could imagine Tim’s fingers rubbing behind her ears, massaging her scalp, running his fingers through her hair. “I can imagine. And don’t underestimate the love of a good gator.”

  He laughed and it felt somewhat intimate. Uh-oh. Another reason she should go into her house along with the fact that the liniment for her feet was calling her name. But she didn’t want to.

  The man she wished was playing with her hair had a lot to do with it.

  Besides, the sun was about to set, the colors just beginning to bloom over the horizon.

  So beautiful. Why had she never taken time to notice before?

  She’d spent too much time looking into a mirror, worshiping her own likeness. Honing her own beauty to perfection.

  Well, her beauty was no longer perfect. The scar on her cheek gave proof of that.

  Still, when he looked at her, she saw something in his eyes that she never expected to see again.

  Desire.

  She’d have none of that; she couldn’t, so she cleared her throat. “I should go on up. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Okay.” He whistled. “Chester!”

  “You don’t need to come back with me. I’m a big girl.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He reached out, gently took her hand, and tugged her out of her chair then picked it up. “Let me get this for you.”

  He held her so lightly she could have easily pulled her hand away, but she didn’t. Their connection felt right.

  Intimate.

  Both desire and fear skittered up her spine as they climbed her stairs together in silence. They reached her door and he put down the chair, took her other hand, and turned to face her. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  Yes. Yes she did. But…”I’d like that, but no big deal, okay? Someplace quiet? Off the beaten path?” Someplace where no one would recognize her.

  He smiled. “I think I can manage that. How about I come get you around seven o’clock?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Until tomorrow then.” He lifted her hands to his mouth and placed a soft kiss in each palm then curled her fingers over her palms. “Good night. Come on, Chester.”

  He left, his dog following him.

  She sat on her stoop and looked out over the water until the stars began to sparkle.

  Whatever she’d expected when she sought refuge here in Lobster Cove, a man like Tim was nowhere on the list.

  Chapter Six

  Tim decided that Mariner’s Fish Fry was the perfect place for a low-key date. They could sit outside, stay off the beaten path.

  It didn’t hurt the blueberry pie was the finest kind.

  He’d spent the rest of last night and most of this morning going over the pictures he’d taken of Angie. They were good. Really good. Maybe
the best he’d ever done.

  He’d managed to capture her graceful energy as she played in the surf. The gentle shower of light and shadow showcased both a sense of fragility and strength.

  She was magnificent.

  Last night had been a revelation. He hadn’t felt so much peace in such a long, long time.

  His phone went off. “Baldwin.”

  “Hey, Tim. It’s Jeff.”

  “Hey, lover boy. How was the honeymoon?”

  “Wicked good. Listen,” Jeff said. “Do you still need me to crew on Thursday night?”

  “You know I do.” Tim frowned. “You’re not going to bail on me, are you?”

  “No, no, just confirming. Danny has a Little League game in the afternoon, but I can do both.”

  “Listen to you, Dad.”

  “Yeah, it’s great! By the way, Beth wants to know when you’re coming over for dinner.”

  “I’ll have to check my very crowded social calendar and let you know.”

  Jeff snorted. “Do that. What time do you need me on Thursday?”

  “Race starts at seven thirty, so six? We can do a couple of spinnaker drills.”

  “Sounds good. See you then. Later.”

  “Yep.” Tim clicked his phone off.

  Jeff sounded good. Happy. And Tim was happy for him.

  He picked up one of the photos he’d taken of Angie the other night when she sat on the beach at sunset.

  Tim wished that he deserved to be happy, too, but he didn’t. Not by anyone’s yardstick.

  ****

  Angelique found herself between a rock and a hard place. Every instinct she had was to gild the lily and use every bit of make-up magic she possessed to make sure she got everybody’s attention.

  Especially Tim’s attention.

  The sensible part of her argued that she used just enough make-up to disguise her scar, but not so much that she caused a stir.

  Except she wouldn’t mind stirring up Tim.

  Unfortunately, her life was such that she had to dial it down. She sighed.

  Lucien was hesitant at first about her getting a job, but he’d listened to her and in the end got on board with it.