A Soft Place to Fall (7 page)

"Max," she said again. "He was here a second
ago –"

Max's owner seemed to go from zero to sixty
in a split second, his lean body taking flight like a race car at
the starting flag. Annie, who had never believed in walking when
she could drive, watched in a combination of awe and admiration as
he took off after Max who was about to disappear into the woods.
Whoever said the male body wasn't beautiful obviously hadn't
watched Max's owner run.

She leaned against her truck and absently
rubbed her shoulder. Any second now Max and his owner would stride
out of the woods and she wanted to make sure she didn't miss the
sight. The staff at Annie's Flowers liked to tease her about her
lack of interest in male pulchritude but the truth was they simply
hadn't a clue. She wasn't likely to sit through three showings of
the latest Mel Gibson movie just so she could gaze into his blue
eyes but she had more than a passing interest in the male form. A
lobsterman's forearms, the mail carrier's broad back, Max's owner's
beautiful hands.

Ceil waved to her from the other side of the
parking lot and Annie waved back in return. Yankee Shopper was
closing early so their employees could enjoy what was left of the
Labor Day weekend and moments later, Annie was alone. She was
debating whether or not she should head for the woods to lend a
hand in the search for the dog when she heard the sound of a
vehicle approaching and her heart sank. The odds were she would
either be related to, friends with, or an old schoolmate of whoever
was behind the wheel.

"Annie! Great luck!" Hall Talbot brought his
Rover to a stop next to her. "I was on my way to the new
house."

"How nice of you," she said, meaning it.
"Susan's been asking about you all afternoon."

"Three deliveries today," he said, shaking
his head. "Must be the full moon."

"You must be exhausted," she said.

"Don't let the new mothers hear you say that.
They're the ones who did the work."

Statements like that weren't lip service from
Hall. He really meant them. No wonder he was the most popular
ob-gyn in three counties.

"If you're ready, I'll follow you back to
your place." He pointed to a stack of boxes on the seat next to
him. "Hope it isn't too late for pizza."

#

"You're a sprinter, Max," Sam said as he
picked up the exhausted yellow Lab. "Squirrels are long distance
runners. Remember that."

Max's poor old heart was beating fast and
hard. He rested his head on Sam's arm and pretended he wasn't
listening.

"Getting old's a bitch," Sam said as he
carried the dog out of the woods. That wind sprint across the
parking lot hadn't been his shining moment either. Might not be a
bad idea if he stopped for a second to catch his breath before he
strode back toward the woman with the sad eyes and the beautiful
smile.

Then again maybe it didn't matter.

She wasn't alone. A man with thinning blond
hair towered over her. Their two SUVs were nose-to-nose. He looked
annoyed. She looked amused. She was probably telling him all about
her run-in with some New York dumbass and his pizza-eating dog and
he was getting all hot under the collar. He stepped back into the
cover of trees and shadows.

Married, he thought, as he watched them climb
into their respective vehicles and drive away. No doubt about
it.

They would go home, feed their kids pizza,
then climb into bed and make love by the light of David
Letterman.

Boring.

Dull.

Routine.

Every cliché ever invented to describe the
life of a married couple who'd been together for a very long
time.

And for a moment Sam Butler would have sold
his soul to trade places with the guy.

Chapter Three

"What's the matter with Hall?" Susan
whispered to Annie later as they nuked a few more slices of pizza
for the waiting throng. "He's awfully quiet tonight. Did you two
have a fight or something?"

"A fight?" Annie threw a stack of plastic
cups into the waiting garbage bin. "I've barely had a chance to
speak with him."

"Well, something's got his goat. He's been
walking around like he has he weight of the world on his shoulders
ever since the two of you pulled into the driveway together."

Annie sighed and leaned back against the
sink. "I laughed at him."

"Why would you laugh at Hall? That man has
carried a torch for you since high school."

Annie had been hearing about that imaginary
torch for years and she still didn't believe it. "I didn't really
laugh at him," she said, "but he thinks I did. He pulled up with
those pizzas and -- well, I lost it."

Susan's eyes flashed with outrage. Hall had
guided her through three high-risk pregnancies and he was now on a
par with God and Moses in her estimation. "You mean the poor man
showed up with a half-dozen pepperoni pies and all you could do was
laugh in his face?"

"It wasn't Hall I was laughing at," she
explained, "it was the situation." She tried to tell Susan about
the truck and the man and the yellow dog behind the steering wheel
and the massacred pizzas and the squirrel but the words were almost
lost amidst huge gales of laughter she couldn't control.

Susan looked at her as if she'd lost her
mind. "You're telling me a squirrel ate the pizzas?"

"No, no!" She wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand, struggling not to start laughing again. "The dog ate the
pizzas. The squirrel just ran by."

"And where does the man come in?"

"It's his dog."

"The dog behind the wheel of your truck?"

"Yes."

"And the man took the pizzas?"

"Haven't you heard a word I said, Susan? The
dog ate the pizzas. The man wanted to pay for them."

"But you wouldn't let him."

"He ran off into the woods before I could
change my mind." Not that she would have, but she was enjoying the
look of confusion on her best friend's face.

"And then Hall happened to drive by with a
six-pack of pizza."

"Exactly. I took one look and --" She started
laughing again and this time Susan joined her.

"It's good to hear you laugh again," Susan
said as she slid slices of warm pizza from the microwave then
divided them among four paper plates. "You used to be a world-class
laugher. I've missed it."

Annie slid four more slices into the
microwave. "There hasn't been all that much to laugh about lately."
She pressed the ON button. "Losing Kevin hit us all very hard."

Susan shook her head. "No," she said, "you
changed long before Kev died. Maybe around the time you two quit
trying for a baby." She stopped short. "Sorry. I never know when to
shut up."

"Let's turn over a new leaf," Annie said.
"From now on we laugh a lot, say what's on our minds, and quit
apologizing for it." She grinned at her best friend and
sister-in-law. She felt downright rebellious. "How does that sound
to you?"

#

Annie was still smiling when she bumped into
Hall near the entrance to her postage stamp sized living room.

"I hope I thanked you properly for the
pizzas," she said as she offered him a freshly-nuked slice dripping
with cheese and heavy with pepperoni. "You were sweet to think of
us."

The guarded expression in his eyes lifted a
little and for the first time she wondered if Susan just might be
right about Hall's feelings for her. He had been part of her life
for almost as long as she could remember, one of Susan's many
friends who had floated in and out of the Galloway house at all
hours of the day and night while she was dating Kevin. Later on he
was a frequent guest at family celebrations as well as her doctor
until she began seeing fertility specialists and her life turned
upside down.

Hall Talbot was a lovely man, a gentleman in
the truest sense, and if he had even the slightest interest in her
as a woman he had done one fine job of concealing it all these
years.

You're wrong, Susie,
she thought as he
helped himself to a slice of pepperoni.
You're mistaking
kindness for chemistry.
She'd seen the kind of woman Hall
Talbot dated and married and she wasn't anything like them. Both of
his wives were small-boned, well-dressed, and perfectly groomed.
Annie, at best, managed charmingly rumpled two or three times a
year. Not that it mattered because she didn't feel that way about
Hall. She wasn't blind to the fact that he was a very handsome man,
but her heart didn't do back flips when she looked at him and it
never would.

There were people who said that sort of thing
didn't matter and sometimes she wondered if maybe they were right.
Her heart had done back flips and cartwheels when she looked at
Kevin and see how that had ended up. Still, what was the point to
love if it didn't make you feel like you could fly? You might as
well live alone.

Her brief interlude with Max's owner had been
a powerful reminder of how wonderful it could be.

"How bad's your car?" Hall asked between
mouthfuls of pizza.

"Remember how Susie's house looked after her
big Y2K party?" He nodded. "Add dog spit and you're close."

"He's paying for the clean-up, isn't he?"

"He offered to pay for the pizza."

"He should've offered to pay for the wreck
his dog left behind."

"I'm sure he would have," she said, "but, if
you recall, we left before he came back to his truck."
I should
have helped him look for his dog. Why didn't I tell you to go on
without me?

Hall looked unconvinced. "He was probably
hiding in the woods, waiting for you to leave."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "A bit harsh,
aren't you? You don't even know the man."

"I know the type."

"Really, Hall," she said, astonished by his
over-the-top response. "You sound like his dog smeared pizza all
over your upholstery instead of mine."

"My mistake," he said, his manners
reasserting themselves. "You're right. It's not like you'll run
into him again, is it?"

No,
she thought as she headed back
into the kitchen for more pizza.
Not very likely at all.

#

Sam drove out to Warren Bancroft's house at
the far side of town. Warren had been called down to New York on
business but he left the keys to Sam's temporary digs with Pete and
Nancy, the couple who had been taking care of the place for the
last twenty years. Unfortunately Pete and Nancy had decided to
drive into town for some ice cream and it was nearly nine o'clock
by the time they returned to find Sam and Max asleep on the front
step.

"Well, look who's here!" Nancy said, dragging
a drowsy Sam into her embrace. She hugged him then pushed him
slightly away so she could peer into his face. "Too skinny and too
tired. We'll take care of that while you're in town."

"You never change," Sam said, hugging her
back. "You're the same shy woman I met almost twenty years ago." He
had been seventeen at the time, filled with ambition and ready to
see the world. He had signed on as part of Warren's crew for the
summer and had spent two weeks right there at Shelter Rock Cove
before sailing down to Key West.

Pete, never one for small talk, shook Sam's
hand then dug out the keys. "Watch out for the plumbing," he
warned. "Ellie never was good at keeping up with repairs." He
patted Max then went inside.

"Annie Galloway moved into the house down the
road from you today," Nancy said when the door swung shut behind
her husband. "She's a widow, real nice gal. If you need any names
or phone numbers, she's the one to go to."

He imagined a weathered New Englander, much
like Nancy herself, who could probably cope with just about
anything life threw her way. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You might want to introduce yourself. Just
two houses on that road. Might settle her down some, knowing
there's a man she can turn to."

A sinking feeling settled itself in the pit
of his stomach. The last thing he needed right now was to have
anyone depending on him for anything.

"So how's the boat coming along?" he asked,
changing the subject. "Has he made any progress?" Warren Bancroft's
dream had been to build a museum as a memorial to Shelter Rock Cove
fishermen who had lost their lives to the sea and that dream was
scheduled to come true next spring.

"He works too hard down there," Nancy said
with a shake of her head. "Do him good if he spent more time
working on his boat and less on his payrolls."

They walked around back to the old barn that
Warren had turned into a boat builder's paradise. Long planks of
unblemished wood. Buckets of nails. Hammers in all sizes and shapes
hung from hooks on the wall next to saws, hasps, clamps. Two table
saws were pushed up against the back wall next to a special steamer
used to shape straight planks into graceful curves designed to
glide through the water.

And there in the middle of it all was the
Sally B
, the lobster boat his father had used right up until
the day he died. She was in sorry shape right now: half of her hull
was in the process of being restored by Warren and had been for
almost as long as Sam could remember. Warren's sister Ellie had
remarked that the restoration reminded her of Penelope at her loom,
a reference Warren and Sam had to look up in the
Britannica
.

"He hasn't touched it since I was up here at
Easter," Sam said, running his hand along the sharp edge of the
keel. The third Mrs. Bancroft might have been right. "He'll never
get it finished if he doesn't put in the time."

Nancy shot him a look that was sharper than a
bandsaw. "You don't think you're up here to watch the snow fall, do
you? He'll put you to work proper."