Guilty Pleasures (8 page)

Nina Parsons had been widowed for ten years. Her husband, Charlie, had owned Egret Pointe Insurance along with his younger brother, Ralph. When Charlie had died suddenly of a massive coronary, Nina had learned to her distress that while she owned her late husband’s half interest in the business, it was Ralph who was to be in charge. She would be given Charlie’s share in the profits quarterly. If Ralph sold the company, she would have half of the sale price.

And that was exactly what Ralph Parsons had done. He had, at the urging of his hysterical wife, found a buyer for Egret Pointe Insurance. May Parsons didn’t want her husband to end up like his older brother. She had convinced him that selling and taking an early retirement in Arizona was the right thing to do. Nina, who had managed the business, found herself out of a job. Her half of the sale wasn’t nearly what it might have been if Ralph had been patient and waited for the right buyer. She had attempted to advise him, but spooked by May, he took the first offer he got.

May complained about Nina getting half, but Nina held firm. It was Charlie’s money that had started the business. He had brought his brother into it because Ralph could never seem to hold down a job anywhere else. Nina sat in on the closing of the sale, took the check that represented her half of the proceeds of her late husband’s hard work, bid her in-laws good-bye, and looked for another job. She put her small profit from the sale with Hallock St. John’s investment firm in town for her old age.

She couldn’t help but feel a small twitch of satisfaction when three years later Ralph Parsons choked on a piece of steak and died. She reasoned that if he had stayed in Egret Pointe and run the insurance agency with her, he might be alive today. Or not. She briefly wondered how May was surviving. But other than informing her that Ralph had died, her sister-in-law didn’t seem inclined to renew their acquaintance, and neither did Nina.

Because Egret Pointe Insurance carried the policies of just about every business in the village, Nina had known that Ashley Kimbrough was looking for a shop assistant. Although she knew nothing about fine lingerie, she was willing to learn, and Ashley liked the stylish older woman. Now, ten years later, it was Nina who managed the flagship store of the Lacy Nothings growing empire, which now consisted of five shops and a mail-order business. Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough, now Mrs. Ryan Mulcahy, telecommuted from an office at home, where she could also manage to look after her two young children, without ever leaving Egret Pointe. And Nina Parsons was, as all employees of AKM Enterprises knew, the boss’s right-hand woman, not just a shop manager.

Nina liked her life. She had enough money to assure herself a comfortable old age if she ever decided to get old. She had a mortgage-free house and a purpose in life. She had friends, but after Charlie had died, there had been no one to engage her romantic interest. But she did have the Channel, which meant she could have as active a sex life as she wanted, and no one would be the wiser unless she chose to share that part of herself. Ashley, of course, knew. She had once been an enthusiastic subscriber to the Channel, before she married Ryan and started having babies. Despite the almost twenty-year difference in their ages, Nina and Ashley had become best friends. Ashley knew Nina’s secrets. And Nina knew Ashley’s secrets.

Nina limited her visits to the Channel. She never went on a work night. Having a wild sexual adventure and then having to get up and go to work was too much for her. She limited her forays to Saturday and Sunday nights because the shop was closed on the Sabbath and on Mondays. She wanted to wake up from her adventures and be able to roll over and go back to sleep. And she could always attend either the five p.m. Saturday evening mass at St. Anne’s or the noon one on Sundays.

This Saturday, however, she was having an evening out. She might forgo the Channel entirely.
Robert Talcott
. It was a nice name. A youthful divorce was understandable, but Nina couldn’t help but wonder why his second wife had divorced him rather than live in the Northeast. What was so bad about the Northeast? Where was better? Well, it wasn’t really her business, was it? And it was unlikely she was going to find out on short acquaintance. But she was curious to learn just where he was building a house in Egret Pointe.

Saturday was slow. It was a late-summer beach day, and the local strip of sand would be active. Nina closed at three p.m. and hurried home to get ready. Because they had had no children, Nina and her late husband had lived in a five-room cottage on Maple Lane. It was almost two hundred years old, but they had modernized the kitchen and the bathroom. They had even enclosed a small alcove in the center hall, turning it into a half bath for guests, installing a commode, a pedestal sink, and a skylight. Nina’s creative side loved designing and decorating. She was good at it—everyone said so.

Looking through her closet, Nina decided on a shortsleeved wrap dress in a silky pale green material. She showered, and then lay down for a brief nap. By six fifty she was dressed, summer sandals on her feet, a cream-colored pashima shawl over her arm, a small clutch in her hand containing her reading glasses, lipstick for repairs, and a handkerchief. And at exactly seven p.m., her doorbell rang. The Mulcahys’ chauffeur was always prompt. But opening the door, she found herself face-to-face with a stranger.

“Nina, I’m Bob Talcott.” He held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. The kids are waiting in the car, but Ryan thought I should come and get you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Talcott,” Nina said, looking past him to the Town Car at her curb. “I understand from Ashley you’re building a house here in Egret Pointe.” She stepped out of her cottage and pulled the door closed behind her. Nice manners, Nina thought as he offered her his arm and escorted her to the car, helping her in and then joining her. Ashley was on her other side. “Hey,” Nina said. Then, leaning forward, she teased Ryan. “You should have just honked. I could get used to having handsome men come to my door, sweetie. You have to stop spoiling me.”

Ryan Mulcahy guffawed.

Nina turned to Ashley. “I closed up at three. Didn’t even have a looker today.”

“Weather is too nice,” Ashley responded, “but that will change soon enough.”

The car sped through the village and out onto the coast road. They arrived at the East Harbor Inn and were seated immediately at the best table in the dining room, a bow window overlooking the bay. They could already see the moon above the water.

“God, this is perfect,” Bob Talcott said with a sigh, then took a sip of the Glenfiddich on the rocks that he had ordered. “It’s paradise to me.”

Nina smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Are you a native like Ashley?” he asked her.

Nina shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I was born and raised in Albany, New York. I came to Egret Pointe as a bride when I married my late husband. But once here I didn’t want to live anywhere else.”

“That’s how my last wife felt about Southern California. She didn’t want to leave it, and so when I came east again, she didn’t,” he told her.

Nina sipped her daiquiri. Then, unable to help herself, she said, “I’m sorry. I think if you love a man you go with him whenever and wherever he goes. Guess I’m old-fashioned, but I won’t ever have to worry about leaving Egret Pointe.”

“Yeah,” Ashley murmured with a wicked little chuckle, “Nina says she’s not going to break in another husband.”

“How long were you married?” Bob Talcott asked.

“Twenty-six years,” Nina answered. “I’ve been a widow the past ten years. How long were you married?”

“I married first when I was nineteen. It was a mistake. We divorced quickly. I remarried when I was in my thirties, and we hung in for twenty-three years,” he told her. “No kids. So when I decided to come back east—I was raised in New England—she was quite frank to admit that she preferred Southern California.”

“But if she loved you . . .”

He laughed. “She obviously didn’t,” he admitted candidly.

“I’m sorry,” Nina said, realizing as she spoke that the longer she looked at Bob Talcott, the more familiar he seemed to her. “Have we ever met?” she asked him.

Ryan snickered.

“If we had, I would have remembered,” Bob said, smiling into Nina’s brown eyes.

Wow!
Nina thought.
The single ladies at the country club are going to be all over this guy.
The beautiful silver hair. No trace of yellow in it, so he hadn’t been a blond when he was younger. Gorgeous blue eyes. Tall, maybe just six feet or an inch under, and he looked to be in pretty good shape. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

They ordered. The specials tonight were filet mignon with Bordelaise sauce and a large boiled lobster with all the trimmings. In Egret Pointe that meant the crustacean would be accompanied by some steamed clams and corn amid a bed of dark seaweed on an oval platter. The men ordered the lobster. Nina ordered a Cornish game hen stuffed with wild rice and apricot. Ashley had the filet.

“I’m not much of a fish person,” Nina said.

Bob ordered a bottle of wine, a Pindar Winter White.

“What did or do you do?” Nina asked the Mulcahys’ guest.

“I worked in Hollywood,” he answered her.

Ryan snickered again.

“I’ve never been to Hollywood,” Nina said, “but I’m sure I know you.” Then she laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you look just like the movie star Lyon Roberts? He was always a favorite of mine. He used to be the guy who was the hero’s best friend in all those cute comedies. He never got the girl, but I thought he should have. I always liked him better,” Nina said.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Bob said.

Ryan Mulcahy began to laugh now. “Tell her!” he said to Bob.

“Tell me what?” Nina asked. What the hell was the matter with Ryan Mulcahy tonight? He’d had only one drink, and she’d never known him to be affected by booze.

“I look like Lyon Roberts because I am Lyon Roberts,” Bob said. “At least I was once upon a time. Lyon was my mother’s maiden name. Now that I’m retired, I prefer to use my own name which happens to be Robert Lyon Talcott,” he told her. His blue eyes twinkled at her. “I’m glad you liked me best.”

Nina colored becomingly. “Oh, my!” she said softly. “Of course. You left Hollywood and came back to do Broadway.”

“It’s where I began my profession,” he explained. “I’ll end it there, but I’m still a little too young to retire entirely. I’ll be starting rehearsals on a new play opening in early March. It’s a comedy.”

“You were always so good in those cute movies. You have a terrific sense of timing,” Nina told him admiringly.

“A must for the second banana,” Bob said.

“You were a star!” Nina exclaimed. “None of those pictures would have been as successful without you.”

He laughed. “Ryan said you were a fan,” he teased her. “I was the last of my kind. Back in the day there were some pretty good second bananas in those light and frothy comedies. Van Johnson and Tony Randall, to name a few, but by the time I got to Hollywood, that kind of movie wasn’t being made very often. Still, I came from Broadway, had a good career in the movies and television, and have been back on Broadway for the past few years. While it’s flattering, I’m just a working actor, Nina. You don’t have to be impressed.”

“You’re just an ordinary guy building a house in Egret Pointe,” Nina responded drily. “Yeah. Sure. Is it going to be a McMansion? I imagine you’ll be entertaining.”

“It’s going to be cozy and small,” he told her. “I never hung out in Hollywood, and I live in a one-bedroom prewar in the city. I’ll only keep the apartment as long as I’m working in theater. My home is for me.”

“I’m intrigued,” Nina told him. “Where are you building?”

“I bought some property near Ryan and Ashley’s place.”

“The old Oliver property,” Ashley interjected. “Remember, the house burned down years ago, but the road in from the main road is still there.”

“It’s all wooded,” Nina remarked.

“And it’s going to stay wooded,” Bob told them. “I’m building on the bluff over the bay.”

“Back far enough, I hope,” Nina said.

He nodded. “I’m aware of the erosion problems,” he acknowledged.

Their meal came. The food was good as always. East Harbor Inn was noted for its cuisine. They finished the bottle of white wine, then ordered dessert, unable to resist the warm homemade peach-and-raspberry cobbler with fresh churned vanilla ice cream. Outside the bow window, the moon was now bright and high over the bay. They lingered over their fresh brewed coffee.

“You folks going to close up for me this evening?” Felicity Clarence, the inn’s owner, was tableside. “Don’t mean to rush you, but it’s ten o’clock.”

“Oh, my,” Nina said. “It’s been such a pleasant evening. I can’t believe it’s so late.” She smiled up at the innkeeper. “Sorry, Felicity.”

“Haven’t seen you out on the town in quite a while,” Felicity noted. She turned to look straight at Bob Talcott. “You’re a nice-looking gentleman,” she said. “Where did Nina find you? And about time she had a fella. Charlie’s been gone forever.”

“Oh, he’s not my fella, Felicity,” Nina quickly said. “He’s the Mulcahys’ guest, and they invited me to dine with them this evening.”

“Too bad,” Felicity Clarence said tartly. “ ’Bout time you had a fella again, Nina. Now go home, please, so I can close up.”

They rose, laughing. The tab had already been paid, so they went out to the car, where Bill, the Mulcahys’ chauffeur, was waiting for them. He helped them into the vehicle, and then began the drive home.

“Is there somewhere in Egret Pointe where you can get breakfast?” Bob Talcott asked as the car sped through the moonlit night.

“Mrs. Byrnes fixes a great breakfast,” Ryan said. “Whenever you get up.”

“I know she does, but if you don’t mind,” Bob said, “I’d like to invite Nina to breakfast.” He turned to her, inquiring, “Do you go to church?”

She was surprised. “Yes,” she managed to say.

“Do you want to eat before or after?” he asked her.

“I suppose we could eat around nine, and I’ll go to noon mass,” Nina heard herself say. Was this a date? Did breakfast count as a date? She honestly didn’t know. Oh, damn. If she was going to meet him at nine for breakfast, there could be no Channel tonight. It was already after ten, and the Channel closed at four a.m. At her age she didn’t want to meet a man with only four hours’ sleep. Even for breakfast.