The Mermaid Collector (6 page)

“You’re stupid over me, and you’ve yet to even trip over a loose brick,” she said.

“That’s because I’m remarkably steady.”

“Yes, you are.”

They smiled at each other, the smell of salted fish and creamy broth circling their bowls and filling the air between them with each sweep of their spoons.

ONE WEEK LATER,
Eli Banks sent a carriage down to the Point.

“You could come too, you know,” Linus said, Lydia walking beside him down the front steps of the house. It was a cool, crisp morning. A breeze carried the scent of new leaves.

“No, thank you.” Lydia stayed on the grass while Linus settled into the buggy’s upholstered seat, a faded plum that Lydia thought would make a lovely color for a nursery. “All this just to look at a silly boat,” she marveled.

“Banks promises to have me back by lunch,” Linus said.

“Good. I’m making ham and potato soup. You be sure and tell him it’s inedible when it’s cold and that I don’t plan to leave it sitting forever on the stove.” She blew her husband a kiss, and he grabbed the air to catch it.

BY TEN,
the soup was made and fragrant in the kitchen, the smell of simmering ham detectable all the way upstairs as
Lydia cleaned their room and put away their clothes. By eleven, the morning clouds had finally cleared the sky, and the sun was strong enough to make yard work comfortable. She’d been meaning to start on the shallow stretches of earth that trimmed the base of the house, thinking how much she missed her rows of lavender and mint. She set down a folded cloth to protect her skirt and knelt at the end of the garden, turning the soil with her spade.

After a few moments, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and spun around, startled. Angus Keene stood there, looking startled too.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, moving toward her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” she said, rising to her feet. “You didn’t scare me. Linus told me you’d be here today. I just forgot, that’s all.”

“I had to get something from the oil house.” Angus motioned to the red-roofed building at the top of the hill. “I meant to go around the other way, but I think the smell of whatever that is on your stove changed my mind.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll be cleaning the lamp for most of the afternoon if you need me for anything.”

Lydia brushed the dirt from her hands, thinking she was wrong, that he didn’t look quite so young standing there, squinting into the sun, with the shadow of a beard she hadn’t noticed when she first met him. “You’re welcome to some potato soup,” she said, gesturing to the house. “It
is
practically lunch. I know I could eat.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Angus said. “I wasn’t sniffing for an invitation.…”

“I know you weren’t. And it’s not the best I’ve ever made, but it
is
hot. Biscuits too.”

“I wouldn’t feel right,” he demurred. “Not with Mr. Harris not here.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Lydia said. “Linus isn’t that sort. And I have my suspicions you aren’t, either. Besides”—she smiled at him—“I’m one of three children. Frankly, I don’t know how to eat alone.”

Angus chuckled at that. “All right then. Maybe a small bowl.”

SHE SET A HEAPING SERVING
in front of him a few minutes later, large enough to make him chuckle again.

“You’re sure I’m not keeping you?” Angus asked, watching Lydia as she joined him at the table.

“Not at all,” she said. “If you must know—and don’t you dare tell my husband—the truth is that I’ve been snooping most of the morning.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “The previous keeper left quite a few things upstairs. Papers and books and such. Most of it was dreadfully boring, but I did find the most amusing book:
The Seafarer’s Wife’s Handbook
, it was titled. You can’t imagine it. It even contained instruction on how to hang chimes to quiet mermaid song, which is apparently very dangerous to susceptible men’s ears. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Angus bit back a small grin as he spooned his soup. “No, I can’t say I have. I suspect that belonged to Captain Barton’s wife. She was a bit off, I’m afraid.”

“Linus said you were his assistant too?”

“That’s right,” Angus said. “I like the work. I like the quiet.”

“It is that,” Lydia said. “Although I imagine it’s not quiet when Linus is there with you. My husband is one of the most talkative men I’ve ever known.”

Angus nodded, then smiled. “He’s good company. Captain Barton never said much. I don’t mind either way.”

“Oh, you’ll make a wonderful husband with that attitude,” she said.

He blushed as he wiped his mouth. “My sister-in-law hopes so. I think she’s impatient to have me married so I’ll move out.”

Lydia smiled. “It will happen for you.” There was a certain calm, a certain comfort in saying those words to someone else, having been the recipient of the same advice herself for so many years now.

“It’s fine,” Angus said. “I’m not in any rush.”

They looked at each other for a moment then, long enough that Lydia looked away, feeling self-conscious. Angus must have sensed it too, because he was quick to suggest a new topic.

“You must like going up to the lighthouse.”

“Oh no,” Lydia said. “I don’t go up there. I won’t.”

“You don’t like heights—is that it?”

“I don’t like the water.”

Angus stared at her. Lydia shrugged, accustomed to the reaction now. “It makes no sense, I know,” she said. “Married to a lighthouse keeper.”

“Then you’ve never been up there?” he asked. “Not even once?”

Lydia shook her head.

“It’s not so bad, you know. It’s beautiful, really. I’d be happy to show it to you.”

How many times had Linus offered the same? Lydia had lost count. And yet, Angus’s simple suggestion left her with trepidation, the fluttering of possibility. So when they finished, she followed him back outside, taking one of Linus’s coats just in case the wind was terrific, and they traveled the wooden walkway. She scanned the sea as she went.
It’s calm as can be,
she told herself.
Not a whitecap in sight
.

Inside the tower, she felt a chill and pulled the sides of Linus’s coat tighter around herself.

“You don’t have to do it,” Angus said, pausing a moment before beginning the curved metal steps that led to the lantern room. “I can walk you back if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No,” Lydia said firmly. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

Why she should go with him and not with Linus, Lydia wasn’t sure. Maybe she wanted to boast of her courage to her husband, to surprise him. That was what she told herself as she followed Angus Keene upward, clutching
her skirt high as she climbed the twisting stair. Her heart raced when they reached the trapdoor, thundered when she climbed up at last into the lantern room, grateful for Angus’s hand when it reached down to close over hers and steady her final steps.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” Lydia said, dizzy suddenly. Though several of the windows were covered with curtains to keep the sun off the lens, she could still see a sweeping view of the water. “Oh my,” she gasped. “It is spectacular, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you ever go out there?” she asked, pointing to the gallery.

“Sometimes,” Angus said. “But you don’t want to go out there. It’s not safe. The floor gets slick. And I’ve told Mr. Harris the railings are loose on one side.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking to go out—don’t worry.” She glimpsed two small unmoving clumps of brown farther down the gallery, squinting to make them out. “What are those?” she asked.

“Birds,” said Angus. “They get confused by the light and fly into the tower at night.”

“The poor, tiny things,” she whispered. “That’s just awful.”

“It is. Most mornings there are a few. We have to tend to them.” Angus looked at Lydia. “Mr. Harris didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Lydia said. “Linus always spares me things like that.”

Angus smiled gently. “As well he should.”

Again, the air grew silent between them. Lydia felt foolish suddenly, being here with him, the way she’d so quickly accepted his invitation, only to find herself so nervous and afraid, she didn’t know whether she could make it back down the stairs.

She touched her throat, then her temple. “I’m afraid I’m not as brave as I thought.”

“It’s all right,” Angus said. “I’ll go first, and I’ll help you down.”

“BANKS BOUGHT HER, JUST LIKE
that!” Linus reported when he came into the house shortly before three.

Lydia was in the parlor, mending a pair of wool socks, fully recovered from her episode in the tower, her skin flushed with heat from the flames that crackled in the fireplace.

“So you think he’s chosen well, then?” she asked.

“Oh, she’s a beauty, Lydie.”

Linus came beside her, dropping to one knee and taking her sewing from her hands. He tugged her down to the floor, sitting her between his legs in front of the fire. She pressed her hands around his. “Your fingers are like ice,” she whispered.

“Then maybe I should put them somewhere warm.”

There were benefits to living in a house far from neighbors, Lydia thought as she tucked Linus’s hands under her
skirts, closing her eyes as she felt his palms flatten on the insides of her thighs. It would have been easy enough to tell him of her adventure in his absence, of her time in the lantern room with Angus, of how she’d faced the view of that cold sea and not fainted, having come close, certainly, but having managed to survive. But she didn’t. Instead, she took her husband’s hand and led him up the stairs, thinking dinner could wait, everything could wait.

If ever there was a moment ripe for new life, this was it.

P
RESENT
D
AY

THE CLOSED SIGN WAS ALREADY
in the window by the time Tess arrived at Russell’s Seafood Market at three and rushed up to the locked door. Pressing her face to the glass and squinting in, she saw Julie Russell behind the counter and rapped to get the young woman’s attention over the din of oldies that Tess could hear through the glass.

Tess’s oldest friend looked up and waved.

“You have no idea what I had to do to keep your scallops safe,” Julie said as she opened the door, her short
blond hair kept back with a red plastic headband. “Bitsy Pullman nearly wrestled me to the floor for them. And let me tell you, that woman’s nails are
sharp
.”

“Jules, you’re a goddess!” Tess said, giving her friend a fierce hug as she stepped into the store. The chill of the room was a welcome contrast to the humidity outside; the wet, salty scent of seafood was always a comforting smell. When she was growing up, the Russells had been wonderful friends to her, their store and shingled cape just behind it a second home to Tess. Even now that Julie had a husband and a new baby of her own, she and Tess remained close, especially when festival season came around. Maybe it was because Julie knew how hard this time of year was on Tess, how her mother, Ruby, had savored the festival, had inhaled its magic like a fragrance till her lungs were full. When word spread that Ruby had drowned in the cove, it was Julie and her parents who’d come down with hot meals and warm hearts to comfort Buzz and Tess.

“Where is everyone?” Tess asked, glancing around.

“Where do you think?” Julie said as she returned behind the counter to gather Tess’s order from the case. “Dan and Dad are working on the float with Timmy, and Pat and Mom are over at the restaurant stockpiling chowder as if it were the end of the world.”

“It can’t be,” Tess said. “Tomorrow, fine. But let me have tonight.”

Julie grinned, snapping the top on a dish of lobster meat. “Think Pete’ll do the Dash with you this year?”

“He’d better,” said Tess. “I evicted three generations of daddy longlegs from behind my bathroom sink for that man. I’m going to spider hell.”

“You know, I heard that guy moved into the lighthouse this morning.”

“Who told you?”

“Who do you think?” Julie gave Tess an even look over the top of the display case. “The phone tree went into effect two seconds after Libby Wallace saw him pull in for gas at Wiley’s.”

“Of course it did.” Tess strolled over to the window, looking out at the green where festival workers were busy setting up booths and hanging lights in the branches of the oaks that lined the square. She knew better than anyone how fast news of a stranger in town traveled. “He came by for the keys.”

“Then you met him?”

“Only for a minute.”

Julie smiled. “Libby said he’s sort of handsome.”

Was
he? Tess hadn’t really noticed. She’d been too busy watching him fumble to defend himself when he’d been caught spying on her, at the way he’d pulled at his collar as if his tie were choking him. She grinned at the memory, feeling a small but fleeting spark of remorse for accusing him, sure even as she’d said it, that he hadn’t
meant to spy at all. Something about Tom Grace told her he didn’t find humor in life the way she’d learned to. Teasing him had been too tempting. And she’d never been one to resist temptation.

“Here you are, m’lady.”

Julie arrived at the counter with two brown bags. Tess rushed back, opened each one, and peered in, drawing in a deep breath of the fragrant shellfish. She closed the bags and glanced up to find her best friend’s eyes pooling with concern.

“What?” Tess asked.

Julie shrugged. “Nothing. I just know how badly you want this to work out, that’s all.”

“I want a lot of things, Jules. I want a new muffler for the Bug. I want a dishwasher. I want my thighs not to rub together when it’s hot.”

They laughed at that, but they both knew her craving for Pete Hawthorne wasn’t the same as any of those things—not even close.

Still, Julie’s expression remained strained. “He’s not the only man in the world, you know.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “God, you’re as bad as Buzz.”

“We worry about you. So sue us.”

“And lose all this free fish? No way.” Tess leaned over and kissed her friend good-bye on both cheeks.