Stargazey Point (18 page)

“Saturday? Want me to pick you up some paint, too?”

“Yes, please. An exterior white that is weather resistant.”

“Do better with whitewash, ’cause nothin’s weather resistant down here. It won’t be fancy, but it’ll last.”

“Whatever you think best.” Abbie reached into her jeans pocket, where she had several folded twenties on the outside chance Jerome got by today. “How much do you think it will cost?”

Jerome looked over the gazebo frowning and nodded to himself. “I’d say about forty, if I can get scrap lumber, fifty if I have to buy whole.”

“And the paint?”

“I know a fella.”

“Ah,” Abbie said. “Let me know, okay?”

Jerome nodded. “Yes’m. You want me to fix that roof, too?”

“If you can.”

“I can. Might have to get Otis or somebody to help me some.”

“Good.” She unfolded sixty dollars and handed it to him. “Will this get you started?”

At first he just looked at it, then he gave her an appraising look and pocketed the bills. “I’ll be back on Saturday. Shouldn’t take more’n four hours for repairs. You want me to do the paintin’, too?”

“I can do the painting.”

“All right. See ya on Saturday. Ma’am, Bethanne.” He tipped his chin and started back up the walk.

“Wait, Jerome. How much do you charge?”

He looked at the ground, suddenly the uncomfortable boy in the dining room. “Don’t usually charge the Crispins.”

“I’m not a Crispin,” Abbie said.

“I don’t know. Mr. Cab usually gives me fifteen an hour.”

“For helping him?”

“Yes’m and for when I do stuff for the Crispins. But don’t you go and tell ’em, please.”

“I won’t.”

So Cabot was playing anonymous benefactor,
Abbie thought as she watched the sturdy teenager walk back to the house. She didn’t know whether she should like him more for that or be affronted by his high-handedness. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, she wanted to like him. Did like him. And owed him an apology.

Which brought her right back to Bethanne who was examining the gazebo like someone who had just discovered the mother lode.

“I had no idea this was back here. And that view. It’s gorgeous. A perfect place for a wedding.”

“You’re—”

“Oh, not me, but for someone’s wedding. I know it’s weird a widow talking about weddings, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about doing for a long time.

“Jim and I were planning to expand into the next building. Turn it into a reception hall where we could host weddings. We were going to call it Weddings by the Sea. But this really is weddings by the sea.”

Abbie looked around, trying to see it through Bethanne’s eyes. With a little paint the gazebo would be charming, but for the rest of the venue, she just saw a huge amount of work. The grass was brown and patchy. The trees were partially consumed by a trailing vine that made the whole ambience kind of creepy.

Rosebushes had been left to straggle, and bare beds that must have been perennial borders at one time or another lay dormant. The wall around the vegetable garden was almost hidden by ivy.

It would need some major landscaping, and the house would need to be painted. White, with deep green shutters, not the faded grayish color they were now. Bridesmaids entering from the ballroom doors, walking down the brick walk, followed by the bride surrounded by yards of lace and tulle— Yeah, she could see it.

It would certainly be a possible income for the Crispins, but it would take a lot of money and time to get the place in shape. What the Crispins needed now was an immediate infusion of cash.

And somehow she just couldn’t imagine Millie going for it.

“Would you be able to handle the inn and a wedding business by yourself?”

“Well, no. But Penny has already agreed to be the caterer; I’d have to hire a staff.” She sighed. “I’ve saved some startup money but not nearly enough for something like this.”

She reluctantly turned from the sea. “Listen to me, carrying on about weddings when what I really came for was to apologize for asking you to tea and then deserting you. I don’t know what you must think of me. I’m sure Sarah told you about Jim and all about what a crybaby I am.”

“She did, and you’re not. You have every right to grieve.”

Bethanne shook her head. “It’s been over three years, and I just can’t seem to move on.”

Three years? Three whole years? Already tears were pricking the back of Abbie’s eyes as her throat tightened on the familiar pain. She didn’t want to become someone everyone else had to tiptoe around in order not to upset her; she didn’t want to be pitied. What she really wanted was to have her old life back and knew she never could.

“I lost someone, too.”

Abbie watched her words sink in. Bethanne grasped her hand. “I’m so sorry. Your husband?”

“We weren’t married. But he was my friend, my lover, my mentor, and—” She stopped. She hadn’t intended to say that much, but she must have unlocked the floodgates by crying on Beau’s shoulder and telling Marnie about Werner the day before.

She pulled her hand away, looked out to sea.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. But thanks,” she added as an afterthought. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to relive, didn’t want to share. It was time for her to move forward.

“I know nobody can ever know how another person feels about that kind of loss,” Bethanne said. “And I wish with all my heart you hadn’t gone through it too. But it’s a little help to have someone who gets it, don’t you think? Sarah thinks I should just get over it and get on with it. She tells me that all the time. She just doesn’t . . .” She took a big breath, whooshed it out. “Anyway, I just meant to come apologize. So what are your plans for the gazebo?”

“Well, Beau’s birthday is coming up in a couple of months, and Millie said how he used to paint out here when he was a boy, so I thought it might make a nice present.”

“You’re going to stay for a few months? That would be great.”

“I’ll have to wait and see. I have to start thinking about getting another job.”

“Would it be nosy of me to ask what kind of job?”

“No. But I’m not sure. Something . . . interesting.”

“Ever think about weddings?”

Abbie shook her head. “No.”

“It takes a lot of people to hold a reception, waiters, catering, a cake person, rentals, a photographer—”

“No. But thanks for the offer.”

Bethanne shrugged slightly. “It’s just a pipe dream anyway. Come have tea sometimes, okay?” She smiled. “I promise I won’t cry.”

“Sure,” Abbie said as they started up the path.

When they reached the gate, Bethanne turned back for a last look at the sea.

“One more thing. It’s not my business, I know, but it is a small town. Cab’s sorry he upset you. He didn’t say what happened. But he’s a nice guy, so maybe you could give him another chance.”

Chapter 12

A
bbie walked to town with one purpose in mind. Apologize to Cab. Just walk into the carousel building and say she was sorry. Simple, except he deserved an explanation of why she’d acted like a nutcase, and she would have to tell him that she
was
a nutcase, and then he’d either be horrified or feel sorry for her and that would be that.

Better to get it over with.

But when she reached the carousel, a red late-model sports car was parked outside. Behind it, the door to the community center opened and Sarah came out, motioning frantically to Abbie with both hands.

Abbie hurried across the tarmac. As soon as she reached the porch, Sarah pulled her inside.

“What’s wrong?” Abbie asked.

“Didn’t you see the car? You don’t want to go in there right now.”

“I saw it and I was going to come back later.”

“You can wait at the center. Come on.”

She practically dragged Abbie through the front room, a square area that was cluttered with old couches and chairs, chalkboards, and an old television.

That’s all Abbie saw before she was being propelled down a narrow hallway to a smaller room where a variety of old tape recorders, video cameras, and computers littered a wide shelf that ran the length of one wall.

Abbie took a quick look around as Sarah guided her toward the one window. Next to the window a larger monitor sat behind two VCR players. Someone was making a movie with equipment that had become obsolete years before.

And Abbie got a terrible suspicion that she was being set up. How had they found out? Did everyone know? Bethanne with her Weddings by the Sea photographer, now Sarah and her outdated equipment.

Sarah paused long enough to give her a look. “From my defunct family history project. But that’s not important at the moment.”

“And what is?” Abbie asked guardedly.

“I have a favor, sort of.”

Abbie automatically shook her head. No way was she going to help with any video project.

“Look, I know about your freak-out at the carousel the other night. Hell, you can’t sneeze in this town without everybody ducking. And I won’t ask you what it was all about, though I’m curious, naturally. And Cab was, let’s just say, confused about your reaction.”

Abbie sighed. “I know. I was going over to apologize, but he has company.”

“That’s the favor I want.”

“Oh.” Abbie slumped with relief, then immediately became suspicious. “What kind of favor?”

Sarah pulled her over to the window and looked out. They had a full view of the red car and could just see the entrance to the carousel. “Do you know whose car that is?”

“No.”

“Two of Cab’s old colleagues from Atlanta.”

“And? I’m sensing an ‘and’ here.”

“And they brought Cab’s ex-fiancée.”

“Oh.”

“Her name is Bailey.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Bailey,” she repeated and shuddered dramatically before breaking into a grin. “What we need here is an intervention.”

Abbie opened her mouth, then shut it again, amused but still wary. “Exactly what kind of intervention are we talking about?”

Sarah glanced out the window then back to Abbie. “How much did Cab tell you about himself?”

“Just that he’d been an architect in Atlanta and moved here last year. He didn’t say anything about the carousel or an ex-fiancée.”

“Just so she stays that way.”

Abbie lifted her eyebrows in question.

“Oh not me, hon. We’re not that kind of friends. Besides I have my own work. I have to be back in New York no later than the middle of August. I’ve taken way too much time off already.”

Abbie was intrigued and would have liked to hear more about Sarah’s work, but Sarah had one thing on her mind.

“If he lets them coerce him into going back, he’s liable to let Bailey”—she moaned out the name—“talk him into marrying her.”

“I’m taking it you don’t care for Bailey?”

Sarah gave her a look. “Have you seen her?”

“No. I didn’t even know about her.” And then she said something she’d never say. “It’s none of my business.”
The world is our business.
Werner’s words echoed in her mind. “Not this kind of business,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Do you think he’d let himself be coerced into something he didn’t want to do? He didn’t strike me as spineless as that.” Just the opposite, in fact. Cab seemed perfectly comfortable in his skin and happy with his life.

“Honey, he’s a man. And he wouldn’t be the first to follow his penis down the aisle.” She grabbed Abbie’s elbow. “Someone’s coming out.”

The carousel door opened, and Abbie caught herself leaning forward to get a better look. But it was only one man; he was in his late thirties, wearing a short sleeve sport shirt, and he had an incipient pouch overhanging his belt. He reached into the car and came back with a long tubular mailer. The kind that might hold architectural plans. Helping Cab out with some specs on the carousel—or trying to lure him back to the city?

She and Sarah exchanged glances, then craned their necks to get a better view.

T
hey’d barely been here for fifteen minutes and Cab couldn’t wait for them to leave. It had been awkward, beyond awkward at first. Tony and Frank were obviously embarrassed. Bailey alternated between acting aloof and aiming darts of derision at him. Cab decided within a couple of minutes that he wouldn’t be having dinner with them.

Bailey was one thing. There was bound to be animosity on her part. But Frank and Tony were his friends as well as colleagues. He should be glad to see them. Yet he couldn’t wait for them to leave.

Tony had run to the car under the pretense of getting some specs he wanted Cab to look at. Frank had petered out on some story he’d started to tell. Bailey wandered off and was fastidiously inspecting his workbench.

With her back turned to him, he had the chance to really look at her.

She was a beautiful woman, tall, thin, with perfect skin, silky hair. Normally, just seeing her made his pulse kick up, made his thoughts start running in one direction.

Seeing her now he felt nothing. Not even regret. It made him realize that physical attraction had been the biggest thing they’d had in common. And his money, which was now academic, since he’d sunk a bundle into the carousel and his father had cut off the rest.