An Unexpected Suitor (9 page)

“Not at all. The real problem here is that you had every opportunity to tell me of your plans and did not.”

“I left you a note,” she reminded him, but the wave of guilt she’d felt when she had first tested the idea with Ellie could not be denied.

Starbuck laughed. “Yes, that you did, knowing full well I would not see it until it was too late to do anything to stop you. There are more modern means of communication, Nola. Telegrams, even a public telephone at the post office, which if memory serves you visit every day. You can tell yourself whatever lets you sleep at night, but the fact is that you deliberately put this little event together while I was conveniently out of town.”

Nola rolled back the parlor door. “Think what you like, Harry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must ask that either you find a chair and enjoy the recital or leave my establishment. I have guests.”

“You’ve crossed a line here, Nola. Fortunately, judging by the sparse attendance, the damage is minimal. I trust you will not be repeating this fiasco.”

The final note of Olga’s aria trailed off just as Starbuck left, pulling the door shut behind him.

The fact that Nola might have settled on an idea that could work was the real problem. If the woman was capable
of pulling off something like this, then getting her to sell the tearoom to him was going to prove far more difficult than he’d imagined. He hadn’t missed the way the small but enthralled audience had burst into applause just after he’d left the premises. The sound had followed him practically all the way back to his office.

In spite of what he had said to Nola, he had no doubt that word of the genteel afternoon gathering in the setting of the tearoom would spread. Oh, the townspeople would keep their distance for the most part, but the seasonal visitors were always looking for some new entertainment or activity. If he didn’t nip this thing in the bud, they would come in droves. Once the weather truly warmed, Nola might consider moving the performances outside to her lovely gardens. He envisioned guests seated at small café tables sipping iced tea and lemonade as they enjoyed the entertainment with the vista of the endless ocean and sky as backdrop.

Oh, Miss Nola, just stop fighting the inevitable.

She was quite spectacular in an irritating sort of way. She certainly was not like any other woman he had ever known. More often than not, the women he’d known had been focused on winning his favor and attention. Nola Burns seemed to take some perverse pleasure in showing him repeatedly how little she thought of him or his opinion of her.

“Harry!”

He glanced up and saw Rose and Violet Gillenwater. They were riding in an open air carriage, parasols unfurled to block the sun.

“We were just on our way to meet Daddy at the train,” Violet called.

“Please don’t shout, dear,” Harry heard Rose mutter as he approached the carriage.

“Ladies,” he said as he removed his hat and nodded to the Gillenwaters’ driver.

“You’re already back, then,” Rose huffed. “And where is my husband?”

Harry glanced toward the tearoom. Rose would never let her husband hear the last of it if she knew he had attended Nola’s recital. “He had some business he needed to attend and then I believe he was going straight home.”

Music from the tearoom caught Violet’s attention as those few who had attended the recital filed out. “There he is,” she cried. “Daddy!” She half stood and waved.

“Really, Violet, your behavior is most unbecoming.” Rose might be chastising her daughter but her eyes were fixed on her husband, who was standing on the porch laughing at something Olga Romanoff had said. “Alistair!” Rose shouted, startling the horse so that the carriage jumped forward.

Harry put out a hand to steady Violet, but he was a second late and she fell against him. “Perhaps, Miss Violet, you would do me the honor of accompanying me for a walk,” he said as he helped her back into her carriage seat. “Your parents may need some time.”

“Mama?”

“Yes, go, go.” Rose waved a dismissive hand, her eyes still fixed on her husband as he took his time making his way across the street to the carriage.

Harry offered Violet his hand to help her down and then turned back to Rose. “It was business, Mrs. Gillenwater,” he assured her. “Purely business.”

“Please have my daughter home in an hour, Mr. Starbuck.”

Harry knew when he had been dismissed. He replaced his hat and offered Violet his arm as they set off toward the footbridge. He also made a point of giving Violet his full
attention and laughing a little too loud at something she said. He had seen Nola standing on the porch watching them as they passed.

Nola was well aware that Harry Starbuck had once been Violet Gillenwater’s frequent escort. She also knew that Rose had had deeply mixed feelings about the relationship. In fact when Violet had suddenly gone off to Europe, Rose had confided to Nola that it was to mend her broken heart.

Apparently there was no permanent damage, Nola thought as she watched the handsome couple pass her place, so wrapped up in each other they didn’t even look her way.
Well, why should he—they—look this way
, she reprimanded herself.
Harry is angry with you and Violet has probably been fully informed by her mother that you are associating with undesirables and are to be avoided at all costs
.

She returned to the tearoom where Ellie and the others were counting the money.

“Nearly twenty-five dollars,” Billy announced.

“Small crowd, but big pockets,” Jasper added.

“That man in the front row gave a whole five dollars,” Deedee said.

“Mr. Gillenwater is a most engaging man,” Olga murmured. “Quite refined.”

“He is also Starbuck’s business partner and is looking to buy this place and put Nola out of business,” Ellie reminded the countess.

“How come Mr. Starbuck didn’t stay for the recital?” Mimi asked.

“He had—other business,” Nola replied, recalling the way Violet had placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and
giggled as they passed. She shook off the image and smiled. “It was a wonderful event and I thank you all so very much. Now you’ve done quite enough. Please go enjoy your evening.”

They all protested that they would help set things in order so the tearoom would be ready for business on Monday, but Nola insisted on doing it herself. The truth was she needed the time alone. She had to admit that Harry was within his rights to be upset. She had ignored her own conscience and failed to consider the fact that featuring his actors in her recital might take away from anticipation to see them perform at the opening of the cabaret.

In her zeal to show him that she could control her own destiny, in spite of his intent to put her out of business, she had indeed crossed a line. She owed the man an apology. Tomorrow when he came for rehearsal, she would ask for a moment of his time.

Feeling at loose ends after he’d escorted Violet home, Harry decided to call on his cousin Rachel. He had barely cleared the threshold before he began spilling out his frustrations with the antics of one Nola Burns.

“Harrison, this simply is not like you.” Rachel set a cup of tea in front of him and took the chair across from him near the fireplace. “You are beginning to sound like a small boy who has failed to have his way. I would remind you that what Nola does in
her own home
is none of your business.”

“Well, it is my business when she involves performers under contract to me. She clearly has every intention of fighting me with every weapon at her disposal.”

“And what’s wrong with that? Wouldn’t you do the same if one of your little ventures were threatened?”

“The woman is waging a losing battle and I’m only
offering her a way out.” Harry blew on his tea to cool it then set the cup aside untouched. He was still feeling the effects of his frustration. First there were his New York investors demanding action on both the opening of the cabaret as well as the linking of that venture to the luxury inn. Then there had been the unwelcome surprise of Nola’s “recital.” But at the foundation of everything else was his play. “Oh, what’s the point?” he said irritably.

Rachel smiled. “The point, as I said originally, is that this is not like you. Not at all. This entire business of turning lovely little ’Sconset into a personal playground for your rich friends seems to have turned your head—and heart.”

“I have to make a living,” Harry grumbled.

Rachel laughed long and loud. “Don’t play the pauper with me, my dear cousin. Now how’s the play coming along? I hear you’ve decided to make a perfectly good drama into an operetta? I was unaware that composing was part of your talents, Harry.”

“It’s not. I’m trying to do it using old hymns and classical pieces.”

“And how is that working out?”

“Not well. Some of the lyrics really need original tunes. I can hear the words and even some of the music in my head, but I need to get it out of my head and down onto paper, and I don’t know how to do that.”

“So hire someone. There must be dozens of lyricists and composers wandering the streets of New York who would be delighted to take a holiday on our lovely island.”

“As you’ve pointed out, I have other matters that demand my time, including the gala coming up in just eight short weeks.”

“You always were trying to do too much at the same time.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I can’t very well help it if God gave me a variety of interests.”

“No, and it would be a sin for you not to make use of those gifts. What I am saying, dear cousin, is that perhaps the time has come when you must choose. Always before you’ve been talented enough to pull it off, but this time, it sounds as if…”

“You think I should give up the play?”

“That’s not at all what I said,” Rachel argued. She stood. “Here’s my advice—you did come for advice, didn’t you?”

“I always do.”

“Then as I see it you need to get on that bicycle of yours and, on the ride home to ’Sconset, set aside your worldly worries for a time. You’ve always found answers in your faith, Harry. Could it be that you are so caught up in everything you’ve promised others that you’ve lost sight of what you want and need for yourself? Have you failed to give yourself the quiet and solitude you need in order to hear God’s answers?”

“I pray.”

“A prayer goes both ways, Harry. For once in your life stop trying to control everything around you. Set some priorities. Try listening instead of talking and perhaps you will find the answers you need.”

I
t might have been downright cowardly not to go directly to the tearoom and tell Nola and the others what he’d decided, but when Harry had passed the Lang house on his way back from Rachel’s, he’d decided to stop by. He wanted to make sure that Jonah understood the urgency to have those cottages ready for habitation by midweek at the latest. When Judy had asked why the sudden hurry, Harry had told her that he was going to need the actors for rehearsals all day every day and they should have their own quiet place to go back to between sessions.

“But what about the tearoom?”

“Miss Nola has had ample time to find help. I’ve been as patient as I can, but I can’t ask my performers to continue to pull double duty. I’ll stop by the tearoom tomorrow and let Miss Nola know that she has three days to find replacements.”

Judy Lang was already reaching for her shawl as he left, and he knew that she wouldn’t wait until morning to make sure Nola heard the news.

It was fine with him, he decided as he pedaled back to
his own cottage. It would save him a trip and was the first step in severing all ties with Nola.

His cousin had counseled him to pray and listen. Well, he had prayed on the ride back to ’Sconset from her house. And he had listened and what he had heard, to the accompaniment of the turning tires, had been a clear message. The only way he was ever going to get on with everything he had to accomplish before the opening of the cabaret was to get Nola Burns out of his life. It had been premature to approach her about buying her property in the first place. He didn’t plan to start on the inn until spring anyway. There would be plenty of time for that once the cabaret was up and running.

No, this was the best solution—the only solution. Move his actors into the cottages where they belonged. Move the rehearsals to the hotel. Place all his energy on finishing the cabaret and putting the operetta into shape and he’d have no time at all to dwell on any business he might have with Nola Burns.

Nola had been sitting in her parlor reading from a book of meditations when Judy Lang let herself in the front door. Surprised to see the older woman at such an hour, Nola met her in the foyer. “Is everything all right, Judy? Did you forget something?”

“Harry Starbuck came by our place just now all charged up to have Jonah get those cottages finished. That man is going to put you out of business if it’s the last thing he does.”

Nola was trying to make some sense of Judy’s ramblings before she could attract the attention of the others. But on the floors above, bedroom doors opened and soon the Kowalski twins as well as Jasper and Billy were leaning over
the banister that wound its way from the foyer to the third floor looking down on them.

“Come inside, Judy. I’ll get you some water,” Nola said as she tried without success to lead her into the privacy of her parlor.

“Might as well start packing. You are being evicted,” Judy called up to the others. This announcement elicited gasps from the twins and brought the two men down the stairs as if they might be called upon to defend their female counterparts.

“What is all this racket?” Ellie asked as she emerged from her room, her hair covered by a towel.

Nola sighed. “Get the countess so we can all hear the news that Mrs. Lang has brought us.” She crossed the foyer to the tearoom and turned up the kerosene under a wall sconce.

“Now, tell us exactly what Mr. Starbuck said, Judy.”

“He told Jonah to get what supplies he needed to finish the cottages from the construction site at the cabaret. He wants the cottages ready for occupancy by Wednesday latest. He also mentioned that if Jonah needed him he’d either be at the hotel conducting rehearsals for the opening or at the cabaret making sure it opens on schedule.”

“I don’t understand,” Ellie said softly.

“Furthermore, Nola,” Judy continued as if Ellie had not spoken, “he said that I should tell you that he would be needing the entire acting company for rehearsals two times a day—morning and afternoon.”

“And how are we supposed to help Miss Nola?” Billy demanded.

“You aren’t,” Nola replied quietly. “That’s the point that Mr. Starbuck is trying to make.”

“But you have no staff and you saw how packed the trains
have been already. By the end of this week there won’t be an empty hotel room in town and…” Ellie seemed close to tears as she laid out what everyone already knew. “Oh, I can’t believe this of Harry. He simply is not this cruel.”

“It’s business,” Nola said. “He is protecting his interests. One cannot fault him for that.”

“Two rehearsals a day?” Jasper muttered.

“At least we’ll have our evenings,” Mimi said.

“Yeah, right up until we open. Then what? Two rehearsals a day and performances at night?” Jasper asked.

“That’s hardly the point,” Ellie said. “Miss Nola is going to be without help. She and Mrs. Lang will have to serve customers on their own, at least until she can find appropriate staff to replace us.”

“Please,” Nola entreated. “The performances are why you came here. You’ve been working so hard. Of course, I shall miss listening to you in the evenings,” she added wistfully, “but we all knew this day would come sooner or later.”

“We could strike,” Jasper suggested.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed eagerly. “Unions all around the country are organizing and walking off the job and…”

“Please, no,” Nola cried. She forced herself to soften her tone as the group turned its attention to her. “This is your livelihood,” she reminded them. “You do not have the protection of a union. If you strike, Mr. Starbuck will simply find other performers to hire.”

“But, Miss Nola,” Deedee cried, “what will become of you?”

“Come now, Mrs. Lang and I have weathered storms far more disastrous than this. You have a duty to these people—and to the contract you made with Mr. Starbuck.” She could see that she had made her point. “Now then, shall we all
retire for the evening? Tomorrow things are bound to look much brighter and who knows, perhaps Mr. Starbuck will reconsider.”

We have an agreement, she thought as she walked Judy out to the porch and caught sight of a lamp burning in Starbuck’s office window.

But Harry did not reconsider and John Humboldt told Nola that in light of her decision to stage the recital without his approval, she had effectively made the agreement null and void.

By midweek the actors had moved from the rooms at Nola’s to the cottages down the lane. As promised, they began rehearsing at the hotel morning and afternoon, but in spite of Starbuck’s obvious determination to keep them so busy they would have no time for Nola or her tearoom, they improvised.

Under Ellie’s direction the troupe came to the tearoom every evening as soon as rehearsals ended and stayed for a couple of hours, cleaning, washing dishes and preparing for the next day’s business. Nola protested that they needed their rest and time to learn the ever-changing lines and lyrics of Harry’s operetta since in lieu of hiring a composer he had evidently decided to stick with his original plan to set the entire thing to various classical pieces.

“It’s a disaster,” Ellie told Nola one evening. “I won’t say that in front of the others, but frankly Harry is out of his element with this thing. It’s a good thing he has a head for business.”

“But he’s such a gifted playwright,” she reminded Ellie, thinking of the original script she had read in his office weeks earlier. A script that had filled her with wonder when she’d first read it.

“He is that, as well,” Ellie agreed. “I just wish someone could convince him that he should have left well enough alone. He’s stretching his limits in thinking he can take his words and set them to music.”

In spite of the sympathy she felt for the actors—and for Harry—when it came to the operetta, Nola had her own problems. Foremost was the matter of staffing for the tearoom now that he had made it impossible for the actors to do more than help in the evenings after closing. She’d made little progress in finding new employees. The truth was that Ellie and the others had worked out so well that simply finding competent help was no longer an option. Everything about them from Olga’s regal greeting of patrons at the door to the twins’ sunny personalities as they fawned over each customer had attracted the summer visitors—if not the locals. In fact, the more enthralled her summer visitors were with the actors, the more Nola’s fellow townspeople became convinced that she was making a mistake and would regret befriending people of the theater—including Harry Starbuck—in the long run.

Well, they can stop worrying, Nola thought as she sat down to open a stack of mail that had accumulated over the last two days while she tried to come up with a plan for finding new help.

The third envelope from the bottom was another blue envelope. No name or address on the outside but it was sealed just as the first one had been. Nola opened the flap and pulled out the single sheet. Again the message was composed of letters and words cut from newspapers and magazines.

Miss Nola, Miss Nola, why won’t you heed

The fact that we’re doing you a good deed?

Those people will be your downfall

If you don’t see that, you have some gall.

A friend

The rhyme was so awkward as to be almost comical, but this was hardly a joke. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble in composing the message, constructing it from cutout words and finding a way to insert it with her regular mail.

And why would Harry spend time making up these silly warning notes when all he had to do was move the actors out and leave her with no help at all? Someone else was behind these warnings. But who?

After the actors moved out, Nola lay awake after another sleepless night. The house was too quiet these days, especially in the evenings. She missed the laughter and conversation of the rehearsals. She missed the sounds of the actors settling in for the night. She missed her late-night chats with Ellie. Without them, the house felt empty. She thought of something Harry’s cousin Rachel had once said when someone asked how she could stand being all alone in that house on New Street all the time. “Oh, we have each other, my house and I.”

Rachel had a reputation for being a modern woman—not always a statement of respect among her neighbors, but Nola had long admired Rachel’s penchant for bold self-expression. Perhaps when she was in her forties—as Rachel was—and people no longer gave a thought to the idea that she might one day find some poor widower to complete her, she would give free rein to the bold ideas and wild imaginings that sometimes assailed her.

Surely there was some compromise she could offer Harry.
It was completely understandable that Starbuck had been taken by surprise when he discovered she’d scheduled the recital.
But we had an agreement, Harrison Starbuck.

From her wardrobe she reached for one of half a dozen starched, high-collared blouses and her gray serge skirt, then put back the skirt and took out turquoise lightweight wool instead. She selected a length of matching velvet ribbon from the collection on her dresser and fashioned a tie at the collar of her blouse. That should get his attention, she thought and was immediately stunned that she was choosing her attire to impress Harry Starbuck.

“Well, this is business,” she reminded her reflection in the mirror as she twisted her hair into its usual serviceable chignon and stabbed it with the necessary pins to hold it for the day. She put on her black leather shoes and then shrugged into a fitted black linen bolero jacket. Sparing herself one last turn before the mirror, she chose a small brimless black turban-style hat from her collection and pinned it into place. “Now, off with you before you lose your nerve,” she ordered as she headed down the back hall and into the kitchen.

Jonah Lang was helping himself to a second cup of coffee before heading out to work for the day. He nodded in Nola’s direction.

“You going over to the mainland?” Judy asked.

“No, why would you think that?”

Judy gave her the once-over and raised one eyebrow.

Nola blushed. “I have a business appointment,” she replied. “I won’t be long,” she promised and hurried out the kitchen door.

In the yard she took a moment to gather her thoughts and through the open window heard Jonah ask, “Do you think she’s going to try and get Harry to change his mind?”

“Yeah, I’d say she’s off to plead her case.”

Plead her case? Most certainly not, Nola thought as she squared her shoulders and set off down the street.
Nola Burns does not plead with anyone—certainly not a man who thinks he can shape the world to his own pleasure and needs.

“Morning, Miss Nola,” Ian sang out as he paused in the washing of his store window. “The mail up yet?”

“Good morning, Ian. Actually I was on my way to see Mr. Starbuck. Do you know if he’s in his office?”

“Come and gone,” Ian replied, studying her with fresh interest. “I saw him head off down toward the east end with Horace Gibbs not twenty minutes ago.” Ian pointed in the direction of the construction site for the cabaret. “Horace had a bunch of rolled-up papers under one arm. I expect they might be down there awhile. I could tell him you were looking for him when he gets back.”