An Unexpected Suitor (7 page)

The whole place was dignified and uncompromising in its propriety and yet with a certain aura of unexpected charm.
Like Nola herself.

Harry frowned. “Not at all like Nola,” he muttered and wondered where such a ridiculous thought had originated. He
left his bike by the stone wall and headed up the walk. Light from Nola’s office and parlor spilled onto the porch. He hesitated. If she was working he didn’t want to disturb her. He could certainly deliver the agreement the following morning.

He stepped onto the porch and up to the window, expecting to see Nola bent over her paperwork. But she wasn’t there, although the random stacks of paper and open ledger and pushed back chair gave the impression she had just stepped away. He was about to leave when a movement on the far side of the parlor caught his attention.

Harry blinked and wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, certain that the salty air had impaired his vision. Nola Burns was standing in the open doorway of the parlor. She was tapping one foot in time to the music and as she leaned against the doorway he caught a glimpse of her profile. She was smiling.

Seeing that, Harry rethought his notion of holding off until morning. “No time like the present,” he said as he rapped lightly on the front door.

Nola had given up trying to concentrate on making the monthly entries in her ledger. The activity going on across the hall was too intriguing. She eased the parlor door open and leaned against it. Ellie played through a passage they’d been working on for the last quarter of an hour. This time she slowed the beat just a touch. Billy sang the words and the entire troupe murmured their agreement that it was better.

Yes, it is. And perhaps if
…

A light rapping on the etched glass of the front door startled Nola, but went unnoticed by the group in the tearoom. She felt the familiar twinge of guilt as if she’d been caught again and wondered if Rose Gillenwater had been
passing the house and somehow known she was neglecting her work. The clock on the mantel chimed eight, the piano fell silent and the actors began gathering their scripts and moving into the foyer on their way up to their rooms.

“Who could be calling at this hour?” she said to herself. In the shadows of the porch she could see the figure of a tall man wearing a telltale hat. She sighed. “Mr. Starbuck,” she greeted as she opened the door.

“Good evening,” he said, sweeping off his hat and giving her a grin and a little bow. “I was bicycling home and happened to hear the music and I—”

“Your cottage is in the opposite direction,” Nola pointed out, making no move to step aside and invite him inside. “But to put your mind at ease, you did not imagine the music. Your acting company has been rehearsing.”

“I see.” He lowered his voice for her ears only as he added, “And did I imagine you enjoying the music, Miss Nola?”

She was so stunned that she took a step back, opening the way for him to greet the others. “Well, now, it sounds as if you’ve all gotten off to a fine start.”

“Miss Nola was kind enough to let us try some of the music here tonight,” Ellie explained.

“And speaking of that,” Nola said, stepping forward to face Starbuck, “I assume you’ve stopped by at this hour to announce the rehearsal schedule—and venue?”

“Why, Miss Nola, I had no idea you were taking such an interest. I stopped to bring you this.” He handed her the agreement and then moved past her to the tearoom. “You know I had thought to hold rehearsals at the hotel until the cabaret is completed, but this might work quite well. Nice high ceiling, private, and everyone’s already here, so…”

“I…That is….” Nola was astounded at the way this man
seemed to enter any door and take ownership of the situation. She stepped around him and pointedly closed the lid of the piano. “The hotel would be a far more appropriate choice. And now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and these people have had a rather arduous day already.”

Harry laughed. “Nola Burns, you are a force to be reckoned with. I will give you that. Still, you might want to give my idea some thought. You could keep your eye on things.” He turned to the assembled group. “Rehearsals start in earnest tomorrow—venue and time to be determined.” He stepped onto the darkened porch. “Have a good evening, all,” he called to the actors and then he focused on Nola. “Miss Nola…”

Nola shut the door before he could say anything more.

“He’s so…so…” Deedee Kowalski sighed, hugging herself.

“Beautiful,” Mimi sighed.

“He’s impossible,” Ellie said with a laugh. “Always has been. Come on, girls. Bedtime.” She herded the twins up the stairs as Olga trailed behind, leaving Jasper and Billy standing in the foyer.

“Miss Nola?”

Nola forced her thoughts away from the sheer audacity that Harry Starbuck seemed to wear as easily as he wore that hat and focused on Billy Andrews. “Is there something you young men need?”

“No, ma’am, but, well, Jasper and I were talking earlier about how well Ellie’s playing went over today. And well, maybe you might want to think about expanding on that. Offering the occasional recital or reading…I mean, I write poetry and Jasper sings opera. If we did something here—maybe one evening or something—it would not only be a way of promoting the theatrical season. It would also be a
way of promoting the tearoom. Not to mention that Jasper and I can always use the extra money.”

Nola stared at the two young men. They were barely out of their teens and yet in many ways they were more worldly than men Nola knew who were a decade or more older. “Well, Billy, I believe that Mr. Starbuck might intend to take up a great deal of your time with rehearsals for the gala opening,” she said. And yet they had a point. Her customers had loved the music. Why not let the others entertain her guests as well? “Let me give your suggestion some thought,” she told them.

Billy grinned and elbowed Jasper as the two raced up the stairs and to their room on the third floor.

Nola had barely gotten to sleep when she was awakened by a noise. She listened carefully and realized it was coming from the kitchen. As quietly as possible she got up, put on her robe and slippers and tiptoed out into the foyer. On her way through the tearoom, she picked up the brass poker from the fireplace, pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and raised her weapon.

Ellie Chambliss nearly dropped the dish of water she was about to offer her dog as both of them froze and stared up at Nola. “It’s just me,” Ellie said, holding up her hands. “And Lancelot. Sometimes at night I have trouble sleeping and a little warm milk helps.” Her voice betrayed nervousness as she slowly stood and backed away from Nola. “I’m so sorry. It’s not my place to…I should have asked permission…I should…”

Nola lowered the poker and released a long breath. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I cannot tell you the last time there’s been a burglar or cause for alarm in this town. I have no idea why I imagined the worst. Please, have your milk.”

“Join us,” Ellie invited, setting the bowl down for the dog and then turning back to the stove. “I made enough for two.”

Nola hesitated, then propped the poker by the door and reached for a cup from the sideboard. “Do you often have trouble sleeping?”

Ellie shrugged. “Mostly since Phil died. I wake up and he’s not there and sometimes I forget.” She gave Nola a weak smile even as her eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Nola said. “It must be very difficult for you.”

“The days are so full of other things and of course, Lancelot here is a comfort, but at night…But of course, you know,” she added.

“Not really,” Nola admitted. “I lost my parents and it was tragic in both cases but I’ve never lost—never been in love.”

“Not once? Even as a girl?”

Nola shook her head and concentrated on her milk. But when Ellie chuckled, she looked up at the actress. “It’s hardly a laughing matter,” she said.

“Oh, honey, I’m not laughing at you. I’m thinking about the day when you finally are in love and how it’s going to be like the Fourth of July with fireworks and all.”

“Because I’ve waited so long,” Nola guessed.

“Because when the right man comes along you will know it—likely given your inexperience you will fight it, but there will be no way you can not love this man.”

“That’s how it was for you and Mr. Chambliss?”

Ellie smiled. “Exactly. We met when we were both hired to do a Shakespearean comedy. Are you familiar with
The Taming of the Shrew?
”

Nola nodded.

“Talk about your fireworks,” Ellie recalled. “We were at one another’s throats from day one. I thought to play it one
way but Phil had quite different ideas. And as the weeks passed we found ourselves fighting the attraction that was practically palpable in the room. Everyone else knew we were meant for each other.”

“Apparently it all worked out,” Nola prompted.

“It did. By the end of the run we were mad for one another. The night the show closed we persuaded a local minister to perform the ceremony and from that day until Phil’s death we were never apart again.” Ellie drank the last of her milk and got up to wash out her cup.

“How did you know?” Nola asked softly.

“You just do,” Ellie said, scooping Lancelot into her arms. “A woman like you, Nola, was not meant to go her whole life without love—the love of a man, a partner, a husband. I refuse to believe that God meant for you to be alone.”

“You believe in God?”

This time Ellie laughed out loud. “Oh, Nola, honey, how could I not? A country girl like me who grew up on a farm in the mountains of Tennessee? How could someone like that make it to the city and have the opportunity, the sheer joy, of performing for others? How could someone like that meet and marry a man from a family of high social standing who was just as drawn to the stage as I was?”

“Fate?”

“What is fate but God in action?” Ellie asked.

Nola could not have been more surprised and she realized that she had been guilty of pigeonholing Ellie and the others. They were actors, therefore…

“Well, I should get some rest if not sleep,” Ellie said, putting Lancelot down so he could take one last lap of his water. “Thanks, Nola—for the milk and conversation and most of all for opening your home to us.”

“It was nothing,” Nola said.

Ellie wagged a finger at her. “It was something, Nola. Don’t think for one minute that we don’t know how some people feel about our being here. You’ve gone out on a limb for us when you didn’t have to. We won’t forget that.”

Nola felt a rush of pleasure at Ellie’s compliment. “It’s quite nice having people in the house again,” she admitted.

“We’d be here every evening if you changed your mind about letting us rehearse here.”

You and Harry Starbuck.

Ellie took her hesitation for rejection. “Not a problem. Harry will figure something out. Still, maybe we could still get together for tea or coffee?” Ellie indicated the pan of warm milk on the stove and Nola’s half-filled cup. “A midnight chat now and then?”

“I’d like that.”

“Lovely,” Ellie said as she tiptoed up the back stairs with Lancelot in tow. “Say good night, Lancie,” she murmured, burrowing her face in the dog’s fur.

Lancelot gave a yap and Nola smiled. “Good night,” she replied.

What a day! Nola thought, but she was smiling as she returned to her bedroom and that night she slept better than she had in weeks.

H
arry had lain awake most of the night thinking about how Nola’s place was a far better venue for rehearsals than the hotel. The play was not yet in good enough shape to risk hotel staffers hearing the clunks and clinkers of it. At Nola’s they could work through all of that in privacy. But he hated asking Nola Burns for anything. It just gave her the upper hand.

He was lost in thought as he rounded the corner of McAllister’s store and nearly collided with a young woman coming out of the bookstore.

“Why, Harrison Starbuck,” Violet Gillenwater trilled as she raised her parasol against the late morning sun and spun it flirtatiously. “How lovely to see you.”

Two summers earlier when Harry had first returned to ’Sconset, Violet’s mother had done her best to foster a romance between the two of them. Her efforts had escalated once she had assessed his wealth and connections to influential people on the mainland. There had been repeated invitations to join the family for Sunday dinner or to attend gatherings. These invitations came with the unspoken understanding that he would be Violet’s escort for the occasion.

“Miss Violet,” he said, tipping his hat and buying the time he needed to gauge her mood. Things had ended badly between them the previous summer just before he’d returned to New York. “It’s a pleasure to see you looking so well.”

“I’ve been on holiday,” she replied with a bright smile. “In Europe.”

“Ah, an adventure,” he replied.

“Now, Harry, you know very well that I left because you broke my heart.” She looked up at him from under lowered lashes.

“Apparently Europe was the remedy then, for you are looking quite lovely.”

She laughed. “Mother always said you were a rogue and a charmer.”

“Did she, now?”

“Well, of course that was only after we parted ways. Before that she was quite fond of you. In fact there were times when I thought she was more fond of you than I was.”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh. “Why, Miss Gillenwater, and here I was feeling guilty about any heartache I might have caused you.”

She shrugged. “I’m not a fool, Harry. I knew exactly what my mother was trying to do. Frankly, you did me the greatest favor when you refused to go along with her plan. I suspect we both would have been quite miserable.”

Harry’s respect for the young woman escalated. “Obviously Europe has made you a very wise woman indeed,” he said.

“I have matured, yes, but more to the point I have seen the world beyond this island. The world is far too grand and exciting and our time on this earth far too short to waste.”

“Shall I take that to mean that you have not come home to stay?”

Violet actually shuddered at the thought and then she smiled up at him. “I shall stay for the opening of your grand new venture, Harry. I presume, knowing you, that it will be a spectacular occasion. I’ve invited my fiancé and his family for that week.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint,” Harry promised. “You’re to be married, then?”

Violet beamed. “Over the holidays. In Boston. To Charles Edgemont Carrington.”

“The shipping heir? Your parents must be so pleased.”

“Ah, Harry, we’re on the brink of a new century. The important detail in this is that I am pleased and so is my darling Charlie. And now I really must be going. You know how Mother can be about tardiness.”

“It’s very nice to see you, Violet,” Harry said as he stepped aside to allow her to continue on her way. She crossed the street, and at the same time he saw Nola making her return trip from her morning errands.

He watched as she marched down the grass-covered street without so much as a glance in his direction. A delivery wagon rumbled by, blocking Starbuck’s view as it splashed its way through the rain-soaked ruts of the street. The wagon passed and there she stood looking down at her mud-spattered skirt. In spring the Nantucket weather could sometimes be as gray as the high-necked cotton dress Miss Nola Burns wore. Starbuck couldn’t help noticing that the solemn color of her dress found little relief in the black three-quarter cape she’d donned for protection against the damp morning fog. Her straight-backed posture and perennially pursed lips only added to the impression of a woman who took life seriously and had little time or patience for the frivolity of others.

And yet she had risked the considerable ire of Rose Gillenwater and others by taking in Ellie and the rest of the troupe.

She spoke to Violet who hurried on as she offered the same excuse of needing to meet her mother. Then Nola looked across the street at him. For one instant her step faltered. Harry smiled and tipped his hat, but Nola did not acknowledge his greeting. Instead she made an abrupt detour into the notions store.

It’s a small village, Nola. Hard to avoid me if I set my sights on seeing you.
And he set off down the street to wait for her return to the tearoom.

In spite of her deliberate stop at the notions store where she had purchased a length of ribbon she certainly did not need, Nola saw that she had failed in her attempt to avoid Starbuck. He was perched on the porch rail talking to Billy Andrews.

“If you think you can handle the role, then it’s yours,” he said as Nola unlatched the gate and started up the walk.

“Yes, sir,” Billy replied and he seemed ready to burst with glee. “You can count on me, sir. Mind if I tell the others?”

“Might as well. They’ll figure it out when we start rehearsals in earnest tonight.”

Billy took off and Harry stepped to the edge of the porch and relieved Nola of her parcels. “You know, you can send one of the actors to the market, Nola.”

“I like to make my own selections and besides, they won’t be here that long. Now, how can I help you?”

“Came to ask another favor.” He grinned as he headed down the side porch and into the kitchen.

Nola had little choice but to follow him.

“Lovely day, Mrs. Lang,” he said as he set the packages on the table.

“Judy, Mr. Starbuck and I will be in my office if you need anything,” Nola said without breaking stride as she continued through the pantry and into the front hallway. She waited for Harry to follow, then busied herself removing her hat and gloves and hanging up her cape. “Well?”

He glanced toward the parlor, but Nola remained where she was.

“I want to rehearse here until we get this thing converted to music,” he said, all evidence of lightheartedness gone.

“And why would you think I might agree to that?” She realized from his expression that he hadn’t expected her to agree at all, which made his asking all the more intriguing.

“Because,” he began, then rejected whatever he’d been about to say and started again. “Because I think when you read my play you saw something in it—some real potential.”

“I have already said that it is quite good.”

“And would be even more powerful in musical form?”

“Perhaps.”

He ran his hand through his hair and it fell right back over his forehead. “Look, I know it’s asking a lot and I assure you this has nothing to do with the business of buying you out. I need some time to get the music in place and the lines changed to lyrics. If we work at the hotel, people are bound to get the idea that it’s not going well and that could affect ticket sales for the opening which could affect the pocketbooks of my investors which affects their willingness to invest in this play down the road. Are you following me?”

“Not entirely, but go on.”

“If we could rehearse here for the duration of the time my lead performers are in residence and working for you, then…”

“And if I refuse?”

Harry scowled. “You know, Nola, I can find another place for them to stay. It might not be as convenient, but…”

“Don’t threaten me, Harry.”

“I’m not. I’m just pointing out that a smart businesswoman like you must understand that the bargain we’ve struck works both ways. I mean you can back out of it any time and so can I.”

“You signed an agreement.”

Harry sighed. “To satisfy you. Just help me out here, Nola.”

“There will be no more threats to remove the actors until I have found replacements. Are we quite clear on that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And…”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“And rehearsals may run from five until eight.”

“Nine,” he bargained.

“Eight-thirty,” she countered.

“Done.”

After just a couple of days, Nola realized that any concerns she might have had about the actors causing her trouble or embarrassment were unfounded. They were courteous to her patrons and any visitors who might stop by, and seemed to have a sixth sense about whether or not their company might be welcomed. By the end of the week, they had settled into a daily routine of helping Judy prepare for the day’s business in the mornings, serving tearoom guests in the afternoon and rehearsing in the evenings. After Harry left, they would sometimes gather on the porch or in the kitchen to unwind before going up to their rooms.

Although they always invited Nola to join them, she felt it was important that she not become overly involved in
their lives. Instead she would plead the need to finish some paperwork or tell them that she usually reserved this time for reading. That was true, but, of course, that had been before these lively people had come under her roof. On the evenings they chose to sit on the porch, she could not help listening in as they shared stories. What interesting experiences they had all had, and not just in the theater. Their personal lives were as diverse as they were. Every one of them had been through difficult times—disapproving families, money woes, times when they couldn’t find work—and yet they told their stories without an ounce of pity. Indeed it seemed to Nola that they saw their experiences as fodder for their ability to understand a character they might be called upon to play.

Nola was thinking about that as she made her morning walk to the post office, picked up her mail and then started back down the street toward the market.

What if one morning I failed to pick up the mail at this hour? What if I decided to do the marketing first and then pick up the mail?

Of course, then she would need to stop at the house to drop off her parcels from the market before coming on to the post office, but was that a problem?

“Nola, wait a minute.” Essie Crusenberry, ’Sconset’s postmistress, had left the post office and followed Nola up the street, waving an envelope. “There’s this one other piece of mail,” she shouted as she rushed up the street and handed Nola a blue sealed envelope. “It was just there on the counter. Someone must have dropped it off while I was sorting. You’d have thought that whoever it was would have said something to get my attention, but not a sound. I turned around and there it was.” Essie made no pretense of her cu
riosity about all the secrecy. “Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked outright when Nola placed the envelope on the bottom of the stack she carried.

“It will keep,” Nola assured her, although her own curiosity was piqued by the unfamiliar printing of her name. “Thank you, Essie.” She tucked the envelope in with the rest of the mail and continued on her way. She was well aware of Essie’s disappointment and equally aware that within the hour half the village would know she had received a mysterious envelope.

And yet by the time she’d completed the rest of her errands and chatted with Judy in the kitchen, Nola had put the blue envelope completely out of her mind. It was only later that morning as she was going through the day’s mail and the blue envelope floated to the floor that Nola remembered the odd circumstances surrounding its delivery.

“What’s this?” Judy asked, bending to retrieve the envelope and turning it over to examine the address. “Looks like an invitation.” She handed it to Nola and moved a little behind Nola so she would be able to see. “Wonder who’s having a party this time of year when everyone’s so busy.”

“Let’s see.” Nola set the rest of the mail down as she slid her letter opener under the thick flap of the vellum envelope.

An odd assortment of words in a variety of print fonts and sizes had been cut from newspapers and magazines and glued to the expensive paper.

God-fearing residents of ’Sconset do not bind

With actors, musicians and their kind;

Remove them from your circle now

Or suffer consequences you will find most foul!

A friend

“What kind of invitation is that?” Judy asked, squinting down at the page. “Makes no sense at all.”

“It’s not an invitation,” Nola said as she scanned the words once more and then crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it onto the table. She picked up the envelope and examined it closely as Judy sat down opposite her and smoothed out the crumpled letter.

“Why, Nola, this is like a warning. Somebody is trying to warn you to stay away from the actors.”

But Nola ignored Judy’s rising concern. “Found it just lying there on the counter indeed,” Nola grumbled under her breath as she stormed out the back door, muttering all the way back toward the post office. “As if Essie Crusenberry doesn’t hear that squeaky door every time someone comes in or out. As if she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing to see who it is.”