Harbor Nights (9 page)

“How long are you going to stand there smiling at me?” Ned's gaze was following Wendell's car down the street.

“Is he out of sight yet?”

“He is now.” Ned turned his attention back to her. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” She frowned at the roses. “What's with the men in this town? Either I have them yelling at me, or they give me flowers. Didn't anyone ever hear of a nice happy medium, or is everyone bipolar?”

“I haven't yelled or given you flowers,” Ned said.

“No, you just rescue me from the idiots who do.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all. She'd never had this problem back in Pennsylvania. Maybe it was the long cold winters that made the men in Maine nuts.

“I didn't think you needed rescuing either time. For being such a little bitty thing, you were holding your own.” Ned's smile held approval. “I just don't think it's right that you are forced to hold your own on your own doorstep.”

“Hey, Porter, it's the twenty-first century. Women don't like to be referred to as
little bitty things
.” The man was the size of Paul Bunyan. Every woman was little compared to him.

“Point taken.” Ned chuckled and then hesitated for a moment before asking, “So would you like to go grab something to eat? Tony's over in Sullivan has the best pizza in the county.”

It had to be the most uninspired invitation to dinner she had ever received. So why was she so tempted to go? Ned was good looking, and he was her neighbor's son and her appointed knight in shining armor. All of which were good reasons to take him up on his offer of pizza. But they weren't the reasons she was going to accept. Wendell Kirby, and every other man, was.

When Wendell had gotten that belligerent look on his face, she had realized she couldn't keep living in fear. She had never used to be afraid of men. That fear was slowly poisoning her against life. She wanted her old life back. She needed to get back the trust her father had shattered, and to do that, she needed to spend time with men. Preferably big men. Men like the Porters. If she couldn't trust Ned, who could she trust?

“I have to warn you; I love pizza.” She gripped the cellophane wrapped around the roses with both hands so Ned wouldn't notice their trembling. “We might have to go dutch.”

Ned's glance skimmed her from head to toe. Laughter was in his brown eyes, but he managed not to smirk. “I think I can afford to feed you, Rose Fairy.”

 

 

Ned shook his head at Norah's outstretched hand, paid the vender for the two cherry snow cones, and handed one to Norah. “I told you, my treat.”

Norah put the money away, took a small bite of the ice treat, and smiled. “You got that same look on your face as you did in Tony's when I finished my half of the pizza.”

Ned plucked a couple of napkins out of the dispenser and then moved away from the vender's cart. A family with four kids, all of them shouting what flavor they wanted to the poor man, were crowding around the cart.

“I just have never seen someone so . . . ” He glanced at her tiny waist and remembered her warning against calling her little. “. . . beautiful eat four slices of pizza before.”

Norah snorted and took another bite. “I warned you that I love good pizza, and Tony's makes some of the best pizza I ever tasted.”

Ned shook his head at her waist and her flowing skirt. What was with Norah and all the long, crinkly skirts and jewelry? Maybe she had gypsy blood running through those fairy veins. “I've seen you in jeans.”

“What's that got to do with pizza and snow cones?” Norah moved around a mother pushing a stroller with a screaming toddler in it.

He cringed when the little girl hit a particularly high note. The town of Sullivan was pulling in a lot more tourists than Misty Harbor. Every shop on Ocean View Street was open, and they were attracting a lot of foot traffic. The arcade at the end of the docks with its fancy merry-go-round and assorted pinball machines and games was a surefire hit with all the kids. Even the fast food place at the edge of town was jam-packed.

He preferred the peace and quiet of Misty Harbor.

“I was just wondering where you pack it all.” He steadied Norah as she stumbled on an uneven plank on the wooden dock. “Careful, the wood is warped in places.”

“I noticed.” Norah shook her head and sidestepped two teenagers holding hands and walking so close to each other that not an inch of the fading evening light could be seen between them.

What he'd noticed was that Norah hadn't flinched when he grabbed her elbow to steady her. He had to wonder if it was because it had happened so fast that she hadn't had time to think about it, or was it because she knew him better and felt safer? He led her to an empty bench out of the main traffic flow to finish their dessert.

“You don't get out much, do you?” Norah tried to look innocent, but she failed miserably.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He got out plenty.

“I know this isn't a real date or anything, but when you are out with a woman, you aren't supposed to refer to her eating habits as
packing it all away
.”

“Can't blame a guy for commenting, Norah. You matched me slice for slice.” Ned chuckled at the memory of Norah biting into that first slice, rolling her eyes, and moaning in ecstasy. There was definitely something sensual about the way she ate pizza, not that he would tell her that. “I haven't seen a woman eat that much since my sisters-in-law were pregnant. Barley's Food Store had to have double shipments in for months, and Paul had to take on a part-time job when Jill carried Hunter.”

Norah's laugh could have been declared as the eighth wonder of the world. “You're making that up. I've seen both your sisters-in-law, and neither one of them could be classed as fat.”

“I didn't say they were fat.” If Kay and Jill ever teamed up against him, they could wipe the floor with his sorry butt. He didn't want to think about what his brothers would do to him for even insinuating a thing such as their wives being an ounce overweight. Both of his brothers thought that their wives were the best thing to happen since the cordless drill. “And I definitely didn't say that you were either. In fact, I implied the opposite was true.”

“You did? When?”

“When I said I've seen you in jeans.” Ned chuckled at the look of disbelief on her face. “Under those enormous skirts you wear, a guy would have a hard time figuring out whether you have a hollow leg, thunder thighs, or elephant calves. In tight-fitting jeans all the mysteries are clearly revealed.”

“It was dark in your parents' backyard that night.” Norah seemed extremely interested in the boats in the harbor.

“I've got excellent night vision.”

“So what mysteries were revealed?”

“Ah, if I didn't know better, Ms. Stevens, I would think you were fishing for a compliment.” He spread his feet out before him and leaned back on the bench, enjoying himself immensely. The evening was turning out a lot better than he would have thought. There was no way he was telling Norah what her jeans had done to his imagination. His once dormant imagination had kicked into overdrive with visions of nicely packed denim dancing through his dreams. He didn't need a psychologist to tell him what that dream meant.

“Dream on, Porter.” Norah snorted, spread her feet out in front of her, leaned back on the bench.

Oh, I intend to.
He looked at her small, delicate feet and wondered if they were cold. The yellow sandals Norah had on offered no protection against the chill of a Maine evening, but they matched her sweater and the huge sunflowers on her skirt perfectly. The silver ankle bracelet and peach toenail polish looked sexy. It was the three silver toe rings that threw him. “Aren't they uncomfortable?” He had never seen a woman wear rings on her toes outside of a magazine picture before.

“Aren't what uncomfortable?” Norah's gaze followed his, and she wiggled her toes. “The sandals?”

“No, the rings on your toes. Don't they bother you when you walk?”

“You get used to them. It's not like getting your belly button pierced. I can take them off anytime I like.”

“You don't, do you?” He remembered the enticing inch of skin showing between her tank top and the waistband of her jeans that night. But he couldn't remember if there had been a gleam of metal connected to her navel.

“Ah, not all my mysteries were revealed. We won't get into the tattoos.” Norah chuckled and went back to eating her snow cone.

He thought about it for a moment. “You don't have any tattoos. As for the pierced belly button, I'm not too sure about that one. Any woman who has eight earrings in one ear and five in the other isn't too opposed to punching holes in her body.” The difference in the number of earrings had driven him crazy all through dinner, but he wasn't about to ask. The less he knew about Norah, the better he might sleep.

They were complete opposites with nothing in common, as their conversation during dinner had proven. His idea of fun was roughing it in the wilderness and sleeping under the stars. Norah's idea of roughing it consisted of hotels without room service and cars with broken air conditioners. She would never last an hour, let alone an entire weekend, in his beloved mountains.

“Why are you so positive about me not having any tattoos?” She stood up and tossed her empty paper cone into a nearby trash can.

He chucked his nearly empty cup and prayed that the cherry juice hadn't made his lips as red as Norah's. They started walking back to where he had parked his truck. “You don't have any on your ankles, arms, neck, or shoulder blades.”

“Observant fellow, aren't you?” She laughed at a group of seagulls dive-bombing a bunch of rocks near the dock. A little boy and his father were tossing French fries to the birds. “What makes you think I don't have one or two somewhere in a lot less public spot?”

Now there was a thought that would haunt his dreams tonight.
“Piercings and tattoos are for show. What's the sense in getting them if no one sees them?”

Norah's look told him exactly what she thought of that stupid comment.

He decided not to pursue the subject of Norah's private body parts. He needed his sleep.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of her house. His parents' house was dark, which was normal for them since they got up so early. Norah's house had a couple of lights lit inside, and the lights on either side of the front door were turned on. “Your mom must be home.”

Norah glanced at the dashboard clock. “I can't believe it's after nine.”

Friday night, and he was dropping off the girl before nine-thirty. He felt like he was sixteen instead of twenty-seven. “Come on. I'll walk you up to the door.”

“You don't have to, Ned. I'm a big girl, and the door's right there.” Norah opened the truck door and hopped down before he could help her.

Ned hurried around the side of the truck. “You don't understand. If my parents are peeking out their bedroom window and they don't see me walk you to your door and make sure you're safely inside before I leave, there will be hell to pay in the morning.”

“Scare you, do they?” Norah teased as she walked up the path.

“Only my mom.” He stopped at the doorstep and allowed Norah to dig through her purse for her keys. “She's got a mean right hook.”

Norah chuckled. “Thank you for dinner and dessert. I really enjoyed myself tonight.” Norah seemed to be taking an awfully long time to retrieve her keys.

He leaned in closer. His intent was to take her keys and unlock the door. Norah's flinch stopped him cold. So much for her being used to him. She either was still afraid of him, or she thought he was going to kiss her goodnight.

He slowly raised his hand and gently ran the tip of his finger down her cheek and across the corner of her mouth. Her cherry-stained lips trembled for a moment beneath his touch. “Good night, Rose Fairy.” He turned and walked back to his truck before he did something incredibly stupid.

Joanna glanced around the gallery with the same sense of pride she had once held for her home alone. The two weeks she had worked for Ethan had not only been a learning experience, but they had also been rewarding. Working the cash register was easy, and dusting and displaying the merchandise to its advantage was second nature to her. Karen had taught her how to check in the pottery pieces Ethan ordered and how to keep track of inventory so that she could tell what they had in the back room in case a customer needed a certain piece. Ethan trusted her to handle the gallery on her own for short periods of time, and Karen was getting some much needed time with her family.

The aspect of the business that she found so amazing was that Ethan spent a lot of his time in the back room poring over Christmas merchandise and order forms. Here it was the last week of June, and Ethan wanted her opinion on crystal ornaments, hand-crafted elves that were selling for more than a thirty-two-inch flat screen television, and green and red hand-blown glass vases. Ethan was undecided on how many Christmas trees he would be putting up this year, let alone what color palette he would be aiming for. Ethan had other things on his mind besides the gallery. Namely, his very pregnant wife, Olivia.

Joanna had met Olivia quite a few times. Each and every encounter brought a new dimension to Olivia's growing stomach. Ethan feared his poor wife would either explode or fall forward and then never be able to make it back up onto her own feet before she delivered their child. Considering Olivia's size, she had to agree with Ethan, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Her boss had developed a few gray hairs over the past couple of weeks. She honestly didn't know how Ethan was going to make it through the next six weeks, let alone what he would do if the little one decided to arrive late.

It made her heart feel good to see two people so obviously in love and to observe the joy they were experiencing starting their family. It was what she wanted for her daughter, Norah. A man who loved her as much as Ethan loved his wife. She wasn't pushing for grandchildren, even though one day, she would love to become a grandmom. If and when they would have children would be Norah's and her husband's decision. She just wanted her daughter to find happiness. To find love.

Nothing had thrilled her more than when she had gotten home the other night and found Norah's note saying she had gone out with Ned Porter. Norah hadn't said much about the date, besides saying she'd had a good time. As far as she knew, Ned hadn't called Norah, and her daughter didn't seem to be hanging around the phone waiting for it to ring. It was a real shame their date hadn't turned out better.

She liked Ned and the entire Porter family. Peggy and John were wonderful neighbors who had a habit of sending over fresh fish occasionally. She, in return, had sent over some fresh baked goods. It seemed like a fair exchange to her, but John always seemed particularly thrilled to see a steaming pie or a plate of cookies.

There was one unattached Porter left—Matthew—but she didn't think that would work out, considering Norah had already turned down one date with him and had now dated his brother. Some things you would rather not keep in a family, and the same date would be one of them.

Joanna glanced behind the counter where she had placed a small doggie bed. Zsa Zsa was taking her before-lunch nap. The dog had more fun during the day than she did, and she was the one who loved her job. Zsa Zsa loved the children more. Ethan really appreciated having the dog there to entertain the children of browsing parents, leaving them more time to decide if they were interested in purchasing anything. Ethan swore that sales had risen since Zsa Zsa had begun coming to work and had even gone out and bought the Pomeranian her own bag of special treats.

Joanna left the dog to her nap and walked over to the piece of art that had been intriguing her since she first walked into the gallery two weeks ago. Every day, she studied the piece, only to discover something she had missed the day before. At first glance, the four-foot carving wasn't impressive. It appeared to be an old stump of a cut down tree with a new branch that had shot out of its side and was struggling for life. Only when a person got close enough to examine the piece did he or she notice the detailed carvings that were in the stump and lonely branch. So far, she had counted three tiny fairies hiding among the leaves and the root system. A miniature door was carved into the base of the stump, and what appeared to be a window or two was cleverly hidden within the bark. One of the roots was shaped like a rabbit, and there was a chipmunk peering out from under another section.

The enchanting sculpture was like one of those pictures where you had to find different hidden items. The problem with the carving was that there was no answer key. She had no idea how many items she was looking for, so she spent an inappropriate amount of time studying the piece.

“Have you found the Wise One yet?”

Joanna startled at the voice but didn't turn around. She hadn't heard anyone come into the gallery, but she knew who was standing behind her. The man who had carved not only the stump she was studying but also every other wood piece for sale in the gallery. Karl James had become an almost daily visitor to the gallery since she had started working there. Ethan and Karen both got a kick out of teasing her about her admirer. They both thought Karl was wonderful, and they were constantly singing his praises.

“Hello, Karl.” She moved to the right but continued studying the carving. “What Wise One?” She didn't think he was referring to the cute little fairies or the animals.

“The old wizard.” Karl stood still and watched her every move.

“There's a wizard carved into the stump?” She could feel Karl's gaze on her as she took another step to the right. There was something unsettling about Karl's gaze. She didn't get the feeling she was in any danger; in fact, she felt quite the opposite. Karl James looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. No one had ever looked at her that way before, not even her ex-husband, Vince.

“Just his face and hat.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Keep going right, and I'll tell you when to stop.”

She moved to the far side of the carving and finally looked over at Karl when he said, “Stop.”

She couldn't stop her smile from forming. Today, he was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt with pink flamingoes all over it, dark green shorts, and sandals. His full beard was neatly trimmed, and his long gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Karl looked like an aging beach bum or one of those
Grateful Dead
musicians. The one that Ben and Jerry had named an ice cream flavor in honor of. To make matters worse, he had on a black ankle bracelet that appeared to be made out of rope and a diamond stud earring.

Karl James dressed totally inappropriately for his age.

So why did her knees get weak and her stomach feel like butterflies were fluttering about in it every time he walked into the gallery? The man was pushing fifty, and he dressed like he was an extra in a Gidget movie.

“Right there should do it.” Karl rocked back on his heels and thrust his hands into his pockets.

“Do what?” She had no idea why he was grinning or what he was talking about.

“You should be able to see him from there.” Karl seemed quite pleased about something.

It took her a moment to realize she was supposed to be looking for the wizard, not checking out Ethan's star artist. Karl James's carvings were becoming extremely sought after in the art world, and Wycliffe Art Gallery was the only one who sold them. Ethan was quite pleased with the arrangement, and Karl didn't seem to be looking for anywhere else to handle or show his work. In fact, Karl didn't seem to care if his carvings sold or not. Karl didn't take commissions, and Ethan had no idea when a new piece or two would be showing up at the gallery.

Karl was as laid back in his career as he was in his dress. What kind of man didn't care about his career? Where was his passion, his arrogance, his blinding self-confidence in his own greatness?

She studied the intricately carved piece of art, but she couldn't see a wizard or even the shape of a pointy hat. She squinted her eyes and concentrated on the leaves of the branch.

“Still can't see him?” Karl moved to stand beside her and followed her gaze. “He's not in the leaves. Only the fairies are in there.”

“Three fairies, right?”

“Four.” Karl's voice held a hint of laughter and pleasure.

There was a curse sitting on the end of her tongue, but she wouldn't utter the word. She glanced over at Karl and smiled. “You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?”

“I'd be enjoying myself more if you would have lunch with me.”

“Every time you come in here, you ask me out to lunch. Why?” She was curious to know. She just couldn't picture herself as a woman Karl would usually date.

Karl cocked his head and studied her face. “Every time I ask you to lunch, you come up with another excuse as to why you can't go with me.” He didn't seem insulted, only curious. “What's today's reason?”

She looked away from his kind and all-knowing brown eyes and stared unseeingly at the carving. She hadn't been on a date with any man other than her husband since she was seventeen. Eons ago. A lifetime ago. She wasn't even sure if she knew how to behave and act. It was the twenty-first century, the dating rules had changed dramatically, and someone had forgotten to mail her the updated and revised instruction sheets.

Months ago, when she had signed the agreement to buy the small cottage on Pepperell Street, she had told Norah she was ready to move on with her life. She was starting fresh. So far, she had made a promising start on a new life, but she hadn't taken the final step. The step that scared her the most. Forming a relationship with a man. Granted, a simple lunch down at Krup's General Store didn't constitute a relationship with Karl or any other man, but it would be a baby step in the right direction. Not only did she need to take that step for herself, but for Norah as well. Her daughter needed to see that not all men were like her father.

Vincent Alfred Stevens would not ruin the rest of her life. To fear other men because of what Vince had done would not dominate her or her daughter's life. She wouldn't allow Vince to win.

How much trouble could she get into during a one-hour lunch break sitting in a booth in the middle of town? Karl and she would have absolutely nothing in common besides his work. He carved the sculptures, and she loved them.

“I'll make you a deal.” She didn't look at Karl. “Krup's makes the best BLTs, and I didn't pack myself a lunch today.”

“You're agreeing to go to lunch with me?” Karl seemed pleasantly surprised.

“If you agree to tell me how many things I'm looking for in this sculpture and if you can wait until Ethan gets back from his lunch.” Putting conditions on the date made it seem more like a business deal than a romantic interest on her part. She didn't want Karl to get the wrong idea about her or this one simple meal.

Karl rubbed his chin. He was trying to hide his smile, but he failed miserably. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Stevens.”

“It's Joanna, please.” There was something about Karl's smile that made her knees grow weaker. How could a man who had a full beard and dressed like he had attended Woodstock back in the sixties and smoked everything that was passed his way look so darn sexy? All the fresh sea air must have melted her brain.

 

 

Karl James was immensely pleased with himself. He had finally gotten Joanna to agree to have lunch with him. It had only taken him ten trips into the gallery. He would have sworn it would have taken over a dozen invitations; his police record; a credit report score; and possibly, a digital eye scan to get Joanna just to share a cup of coffee, let alone a whole sandwich and a vanilla shake. He'd never met a more stubborn or more fascinating woman.

“Want to tell me why you are so nervous?” He couldn't shake the feeling that Joanna was getting ready to bolt out of Krup's front door at any moment.

“Who says I'm nervous?” Joanna looked up from her plate.

“Your foot hasn't stopped moving the whole time we've been here, and your fingers have been fidgeting with the silverware.” He glanced at her left hand that was toying with the spoon. “Do I make you nervous, or is it men in general?”

The secrets in her green eyes swirled, intriguing him further. “I'm not sure how to do this, Karl.”

“Do what—eat lunch?” There was no way she should be uncomfortable in a social setting with a man. Joanna Stevens was a beautiful woman who surely had been in the company of many men before him. He knew she had just moved to Misty Harbor with her daughter, the new journalist for the
Hancock Review
who was pushing a lot of people's hot buttons. Joanna also was the owner of one very spoiled Pomeranian that went by the ridiculous name of Zsa Zsa. He wasn't sure if she was divorced or widowed, but he wasn't inclined to ask Ethan. He wanted to hear the story of her life from Joanna herself.

“I know how to eat lunch.” Joanna gave him a look that spoke volumes. “I've been doing it every day of my life.” Joanna took a sip of her shake. “It's just that this is the first date I've been on since my divorce.”

“How long have you been divorced?”
One question answered, a thousand more to go.

“It's been final a couple of months.” Joanna nibbled on a chip. “Have you ever been married?”

“Many years ago. It lasted two years.” He now understood her hesitancy to go out with him, but it didn't explain the vulnerability he sometimes glimpsed in her beautiful green eyes. Or the secrets. Secrets intrigued him, and this woman fascinated him more than most.