An Unexpected Suitor (17 page)

“What’s this?”

“It’s the deed to the acreage just east of the cabaret. I’m going to build the inn there.”

Nola opened the envelope and pulled out the deed.

“It has a lovely setting—nothing like yours, of course. But I was able to acquire all of the land down to the shore so there’s no chance someone will come along and build something to block the view,” Harry said. “Guests will be near enough to the cabaret to bicycle or even walk between the two properties. It will be a kind of a compound with everything any city person could want right at hand.”

Nola continued to stare at the deed, but the truth was her emotions were threatening to overwhelm her.

Harry sat next to her. “Say something, Nola.”

“You did this for me?”

He grinned. “You give me far too much credit, Miss Nola. The truth is that you convinced me that ’Sconset would lose a great deal of the charm that makes the place so appealing without Miss Nola and her tearoom.” He placed one finger under her chin and urged her to look at him. “Bad for business,” he murmured.

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t have to do this. The letters will stop and things will settle back to normal once we get through the gala. You’ll see.”

“Why, Miss Nola, are you saying you’ve changed your mind about selling this place to me?”

“No, but…”

He leaned in and kissed her temple. “Thought not. You belong here, Nola.”

Where else would she go? Nola thought and saw her future clearly. She—like Rachel Williams—would become something of an icon on the island. Well-known, even beloved.
And alone.

“I have business in New York,” Harry said. “I leave tomorrow for the week.”

“But the rehearsals,” Nola protested.

“The play is in good shape. Now that the conductor and musicians I hired are here, he and Ellie can handle rehearsals and I’ll be back in time for the gala.” He pulled the deed and its envelope from her fingers. “Good night, Miss Nola. Sleep well.”

That night Nola begged off her usual tea and talk session with Ellie, protesting that she had let her paperwork pile up
and needed to attend to some bills. She could see that Ellie didn’t fully believe her, but the actress did not protest. Sleepless, Nola paced the first-floor rooms of her house.

She had won, she thought. This was her house—her business. And yet it didn’t seem to belong exclusively to her these days. In seasons past she had grown used to her routine—a quiet supper alone or occasionally with a friend like Rachel Williams or Minnie Franks. Time spent making a detailed list of errands and chores for the following day. A few moments of quiet meditation and prayer after her nightly cup of tea. And then to bed.

But this summer had been so very different. These summer nights she often lay awake going over the events of her day—days that more often than not were filled with surprises. Some townsperson she had known all her life who had that day crossed to the other side of the street to keep from passing her and risking a conversation. The always sunny Kowalski girls whose giggles could be irresistible even when Nola didn’t know the cause. Olga, who always maintained her distance, but who often showed surprising wisdom. And Ellie, dear Ellie, who by sharing her own joys and tragedies had gradually enticed Nola to talk about her grief over her lost youth, the parents gone far too soon, and her joy in the accomplishments of her siblings.

And in just a few short weeks it would all be over, she thought. The others would go back to New York or on to touring companies and once again the house would be as still as a winter’s night on Nantucket. And Nola would be left with what?

Dear Father, I don’t know what will happen once the season ends. I don’t yet know if I am living in some fantasy or if I am following the path You have set for me. All I know
is that I have come to care deeply for them all and yet because of them I may have done irreparable damage to deeply held relationships here on the island. No, not
because
of them—they have done nothing wrong. If it be Your will, please use Harry’s play as an instrument to open closed minds and soften hardened hearts to the possibility that different is not the same as dangerous. And if that be Your will, then I will have been truly blessed. Amen.

Nola leaned her forehead against the cool glass of her open window and closed her eyes. The air was heavy with the perfume of the roses that had come into full bloom. Below she could hear the always comforting rhythm of the tide rolling toward the shore. In the distance a foghorn burped its warning to ships at sea. And down the street she heard someone whistling the tune she had written for the closing song of the play.

Harry must have stopped at his office. And now there he goes pedaling home to his cottage. I shall miss hearing him whistle. Hearing him laugh.
Nola turned her ear to the glass to catch the fading sounds of Harry’s whistling. When this season ended it was the familiar presence of Harrison Starbuck bringing equal shares of frustration and delight to her life that she would miss most of all.

H
arry could hardly believe his good fortune. The esteemed actress Lillian Russell was coming to ’Sconset for the opening of the cabaret. He sent off a telegram to Nola at once.

Certain that Nola would share his cryptic message with the others, he couldn’t help grinning as he imagined them all trying to puzzle out what the surprise might possibly be. In the meantime, he had work to do. Purchasing the land for his inn wasn’t the only surprise he had in store for Nola. He glanced down at the copy of the script he’d brought for his investor meeting.

Of course, the businessmen who had already kept him waiting half an hour past his appointment would question that unfamiliar name. These chieftains of industry enjoyed being able to claim an investment in the arts, but they were less inclined to put their money into a production when they did not recognize the names on the script or marquee. Harry was already trying to sell them on the idea of the debut of Billy Andrews as the leading man. Adding an unknown composer to the mix might just be going too far. But Harry had not gotten where he was in the world of business without taking some risks—or convincing others to do the same.

“Mr. Starbuck?”

Harry glanced up. The secretary for the investment group was standing outside a pair of ornately carved double doors. “They are waiting, Mr. Starbuck,” she said with just a hint of impatience.

“Well, then I guess that makes us even,” Harry said with a grin as he passed her. “But this—” he nodded toward the script “—will make the wait worthwhile for all of us.”

With Harry away and rehearsals running smoothly, Nola tried to beg off going. She reminded Ellie that the threats had stopped and that with Officer Daniels still making his rounds, there simply was nothing to worry about.

“Or the person may simply be biding his time, waiting for you to let down your guard,” Ellie argued. “Besides, what else have you got to occupy you? I mean, with Starbuck off on the mainland and all.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Nola sighed. “How many times must I tell you there is nothing between us? I don’t deceive myself, Ellie. Harry’s sole interest in me lies in what I can do for him. And speaking of business, have you
seen my desk lately? Even now that the tearoom is finally fully staffed, I still have work here.”

“And now that they are in place you have time to attend that during the day. Besides, you have this calming influence on everyone and you’re as much a part of the company as anyone else.”

So Nola continued to spend her evenings at rehearsal, right up to two days before the opening.

“I’m not going,” she insisted. “I don’t want to spoil the opening by seeing the dress rehearsal.”

Even Ellie agreed this was for the best. “We’re likely to be there most of the night,” she told Nola. “The last act simply is not coming together properly.”

“Perhaps everyone is nervous because of Harry’s telegram,” Nola guessed.

“That scoundrel,” Ellie said, but she was laughing. “I wired him back to say we simply must know who he’s bringing as the surprise guest. It affects the way we build the evening to its natural climax.”

“And?”

Ellie shrugged. “You know Harry. His answer was a one-word wire, ‘No.’”

“So what will you do?”

“Spend this evening rehearsing till the wee small hours of the morning,” Ellie replied and gave Nola a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’ll stay with Olga tonight in the cottage—that way I can sleep till noon and you can go on with business as usual here at the tearoom. Shall I leave Lancelot with you?”

“No. He just lies by the front door and whimpers when you’re gone for more than an hour. I’ll be fine. It’s one night. Now go.”

The truth was, Nola was glad of a night alone. She loved spending time with Ellie and the others, but the cost of that was that she had neglected some of the work of running her business. Just that morning Judy had complained that she was running short of everything and if Nola expected her to make cones for the ice cream in addition to her regular baking she was going to need a greater supply of flour, sugar and other staples on hand.

“This isn’t like you, Nola,” Judy had said in a softer tone. “This place has always taken precedence over anything or anyone else. Are you feeling all right? That knock you took on the head was serious. Maybe you ought to see Dr. Wainwright just to be sure there are no aftereffects.”

“I’m fine,” Nola had assured her. “Just busy. You know how busy it gets this time of the year.”

“That may be,” Judy said. “But some are busier than ever with things other than getting this kitchen stocked or the place properly cleaned.”

Judy had a point. Once the Cabbage Inn employees had arrived, Nola had been so focused on training them to serve customers and help with the baking and washing up that she had not yet taken the time to fill them in on other responsibilities. There was little time for Judy to attend to the housekeeping when she was overseeing the kitchen. Nola had tried training the Huff sisters to keep the public areas clean but more often than not they did only the bare necessities. Judy had complained that the Gillenwater boys were always hanging around flirting with the sisters and keeping them from completing their chores. It had been days since the front porch had been properly swept or the woodwork in the foyer even dusted much less polished.

Nola tapped her fingers on the stack of bills and orders
she’d allowed to pile up on her desk in favor of attending rehearsals and staying up late to visit with Ellie.

And missing Harry Starbuck.

It was true. She missed him terribly. He’d only been gone a few days but it seemed more like weeks. What was she going to do once the season ended and he left for New York? He had wired her to say that his investors had agreed to back their operetta assuming they liked what they saw when they previewed it at the gala. That would mean that the cast would need to go into rehearsals in New York by the end of August. And that, of course, meant that Harry would leave as well. It would be months before they would see each other again.

If ever
…

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she murmured aloud as she sat back down at her desk and opened the ledger. “New York is not the end of the earth. You can be there for the opening. And besides, what did you think was going to happen?”

She completed the supply order, updated her ledger and then went to the kitchen. There she tied on one of Judy’s work aprons and gathered cleaning supplies—the broom, a feather duster, rags, furniture polish and a bucket of water mixed with white vinegar for cleaning the windows. By nine o’clock she had completed cleaning in the foyer and tearoom. She stood back to admire her work and to consider the front door.

The porch needed a good sweeping and the outside windows and woodwork needed cleaning as well. Still, she hesitated. While there had been no more notes, she could not help wondering if Ellie was right. Had the prankster given up or simply gone into hiding?

Was someone out there watching? Waiting?

“This is ridiculous.” She pulled open the front door and
moved her cleaning supplies onto the porch. With relief she saw that there was a full moon and a cluster of tourists had gathered on the footbridge to enjoy the starlit sky. With their chatter and laughter as background, Nola set to work.

As she washed and polished the etched glass panels of the door, she hummed some of the tunes she had composed for Harry’s play. It gave her such pleasure to have contributed to that work.

“It’s not professional enough,” she had argued.

“It’s simple and memorable,” Harry told her. “It suits the play—simple music for
Simple Faith
.”

She could not seem to stop thinking of ways they might further enhance the music with changes in tempo and rhythm. When Harry returned she would talk to him about her ideas. Perhaps he could use some of them for the New York opening.

When Harry returned
…

One by one she pulled each of the white wicker rockers to one side of the porch and began sweeping the wide planked floor and steps. But she turned with a start when she heard the familiar squeak of the front gate.

“That you, Miss Burns?” Officer Daniels stepped into the light provided by the moon.

“Yes. Good evening,” Nola called, ignoring the sense of pure relief she felt to see the uniformed man. “Lovely evening,” she added.

“It’s pretty late,” he replied. “Past ten.”

“Is it?” Nola realized that she’d gotten so caught up in her work that she’d failed to notice when the tourists had deserted the footbridge and left her alone. “I’m almost done here,” she assured the officer.

“Maybe finish up in the morning,” he suggested. “There was a little trouble down the way earlier. Some kids getting
into mischief, setting off some firecrackers down by the actors’ colony, but still…”

“Oh, there’s nothing to do but sweep the side porch and put the rockers back in place.”

“Let me help.”

Nola could not deny that she was glad to have not only his help but his company. She’d never thought of ’Sconset as a place to fear but since the notes, she’d found herself jumping at shadows and watching over her shoulder on those rare occasions when she was out alone after dark.

“I’m guessing there have been no more notes delivered?” Osgood said as he lifted each rocker and set it into place.

“Not a one. I do so appreciate your concern, Officer Daniels. I expect it’s your diligence that’s made whoever was behind that decide to turn his attentions to other things.”

“Still, can’t be too careful,” he warned. “You go on inside now and lock up. I’ll just put these last planters back in place and be on my way.”

“Thank you,” Nola said and did as he suggested.

Inside, she turned the front door lock and then took the cleaning supplies back to the kitchen. By the time she’d put them away and returned to the foyer, Officer Daniels had gone. She stood in the darkened entrance inhaling the fragrances of her night’s work and sighed. She was exhausted but Judy would be impressed—and reassured.

“Now, that’s ever so much better and starting first thing tomorrow, I’ll…”

She froze as behind her she heard the metal ping of the mail slot closing and the soft thud of something hitting the floor. As she felt her body tense, she heard footsteps moving down the front stairs, heard the front gate creak and close and she ran to the door and threw it open.

“Who’s there?” she cried out.

A barking dog down the lane was her only answer as she watched two shadowy figures scurry soundlessly up the grass-covered street and turn down the lane that led to Mr. Helton’s cottages.

She stood for a moment trying to decide what to do. The fog was beginning to roll up the bluff and through the village. Nola shivered violently and ran back inside. This time she not only bolted the door, she pulled one of the heavy benches over to block it, then ran to the kitchen door and blocked that with sacks of flour and sugar from the pantry. And all the while she pointedly refused to acknowledge the presence on her foyer floor of a thick blue envelope.

It seemed all anyone in ’Sconset could talk about was the opening of the cabaret. The performance had sold out in a single afternoon at a cost of one dollar each. Visitors and locals alike barely blinked an eye at the price knowing they were about to enjoy the talents of performers who had made their reputations nationally and, in some cases, internationally. Performers who now spent their summers in ’Sconset basking in the mild weather. Older performers who enjoyed sharing memories of their days in the theater. Younger performers, like Billy, who had their entire careers ahead of them.

Word of Starbuck’s surprise guest had spread through the village like a Nantucket fog with everyone guessing just who or what the surprise might be. And in spite of ’Sconset’s well-deserved reputation as a place where nothing more than the most casual of clothing was required, Millie’s notions shop was doing a booming business in laces, ribbons and other extravagant trims.

“What will you wear, Nola?” Ellie asked the day of the
opening as she selected her costumes for moving to the dressing rooms at the cabaret.

“My gray silk, I suppose,” Nola said absently as she took the gowns Ellie handed her and packed them into a steamer trunk. The truth was she had not been able to get the events of the last evening off her mind. The blue envelope lay unopened on her desk and she had not slept a wink.

“Forgive me, Nola, but gray is not your best color. Have you something else?”

“Oh, what does it matter what I am wearing,” Nola said irritably. “No one will be looking at me.”

“Except Harry,” Ellie said softly.

“Ellie, I know you mean well, but you really must stop imagining that there is anything between Harry and myself. The truth is—”

“The truth is that you are in love with him and he with you. The only two people who don’t seem to know that are you and Harry.”