Carolina Mist (14 page)

17

“
M
y, aren’t we the crabby one this morning?” Belle noted dryly after Abby had snapped her response to Belle’s inquiry about whether the breakfast scones were yesterday’s leftovers.

“Of course they’re not,” Abby had grumbled. “There were only two left, and I fed them to the ducks out on the Sound this morning.”

“Melissa ate more than her fair share at tea yesterday.” Belle chuckled. “Then she had the nerve to launch into her little ‘Why, I just never eat dessert’ routine. After three scones with butter and jam, it’s a wonder she had any room for dinner. Though I noticed she put aw
ay a hefty enough portion of corn
bread and sausage dressing.”

“Hmmmph.” The mere mention of Melissa’s name destroyed Abby’s appetite. She took her cup into the kitchen to see if Mr. Coffee had done his job.

She was crabby. Crabby and tired from a fitful night when sleep would not come and stay. She’d tossed and turned, alternating between anger with herself and anger directed toward Alex.

“How could he just walk out of here, assuming that I will just go on taking care of his grandmother so that he and Melissa can live happily ever after, skating along together from one big case to another?” she had hissed to the darkness.

“How could I have been stupid enough to let him leave without explaining the situation to him? Why didn’t I sit him down and make him listen to the truth?”

Somewhere between anger and self-recrimination, she would feel his lips pressed against her cheek, his soft breath on her neck, the strength of his arms as he had lifted her from the ladder, and she’d turn over and punch the pillow, as if to beat away the memory.

All in all, it had not been a very good night.

She stewed all day and again through the following night, until she remembered that he had, in fact, left a business card with his office number near the phone in the hallway. First thing in the morning, she resolved, she would absolutely, positively call him.

Belle was happily enjoying a game show when Abby dialed the number.

“Alex Kane, please,” she said when the receptionist announced the firm.

“One moment, please.”

Abby tapped impatient fingers on the old black receiver as the phone rang, once, twice, three times.

“Alex Kane’s office.” A woman’s voice answered on the fourth ring.

“Is Mr. Kane available?” Abby asked.

“Not at the moment.” The voice was at once uncomfortably familiar. “May I ask who is calling?”

“Abigail McKenna.”

“Oh, Abby. I thought that might be you. This is Melissa.”

How did I know it would be?
Abby leaned back against the wall.

“Alex will be in court all day Melissa told her flatly. “Of course, I’ll be seeing him at dinner, if you’d like me to pass on a message.” She paused. “Is Miz Matthews all right?”

“She’s fine. Just ask him to give me a call.”

“Sure thing.” Melissa tried to sound agreeable. “Thanks again, by the way, for taking us in for Christmas,” she said, as if it was expected of her.

“Our pleasure.” Abby made a face at the phone. She, too, could play the cordiality game.

“Well, I just can’t tell you how relieved Alex is that he doesn’t have to worry about his grandmother. What with you being there and all. With that off his shoulders, he can concentrate on his career.”

“Is that what he said?” Abby twisted the phone cord into a noose, picturing Melissa’s neck at the center of it.

“Not in so many words, but I know that’s what he’s thinking. You do develop a sort of sixth sense, don’t you think, when you’re so close to someone,” Melissa cooed. “And Alex is a real up-and-comer, he can really go places in the firm. At least, if I have anything to say about it.”

That Melissa would have plenty to say about it went unspoken.

“You will remember to tell him that I called?” Abby did her best to ignore Melissa’s reminder of whose firm Alex was employed by.

“Oh, I sure will,” Melissa promised. “And do give Miz Matthews my best.”

Melissa’s voice lingered with Abby all day like a bad hangover. It rang in Abby’s ears as she patched plaster on the newly stripped walls in the back bedroom and sang discordantly in her subconscious as she painted the woodwork. It taunted Abby as she lay in bed that night, cursing Alex’s name and his failure to return her call.

After all these years, he had come back into her life, only to let her down again.

“You know, Abigail,” Belle said the next morning when
Abby returned from the paint store, a gallon of paint in one hand and a new roller in the other, “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t believe she means a thing to him.”

“Who are you talking about, Belle?” Abby asked, setting the can of paint on the counter while she removed her jacket.

“Alexander, of course. I don’t think there’s much between him and Melissa.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Abby shrugged.

“Really?” Belle’s eyes narrowed with blatant skepticism. “Well, it matters to me. I want better for him.”

“Melissa is attractive and apparently successful.” Abby gathered up her equipment and headed toward the front hall.

“Pooh.” Belle sniffed. “She owes her looks to her hairdresser and the makeup she piles on that little face of hers. And she owes her success to the fact that her daddy is her boss. I found her rude, unappealing, and unsuitable.”

“Your grandson apparently does not,” Abby said over her shoulder as she climbed the steps, “and he is welcome to her. Frankly, I think they deserve each other.”

The painting had gone quickly. By the time Naomi stopped in later that morning, Abby was washing out the roller and brush in the bathroom sink.

“Wow, what a diiference,” Naomi exclaimed. “Tell me what you’re going to do with the rest of the room.”

“As little as possible,” Abby grumbled, and pushed past Naomi to return to the bedroom.

“Whoa there, Miz McKenna.” Naomi grabbed Abby by the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you these past few days, but you’re not going to take it out on me. And while we’re on the subject, you should lay off Belle.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abby said flatly, prying Naomi’s finger from her shirt.

“Of course you do. You’ve been an absolute bitch since Christmas. Which I take to mean Alex was not receptive to whatever it was you wanted him to do.” Naomi followed Abby into the room. “Well, that’s not Belle’s fault.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Abby turned to face her. “Belle apparently told Alex that she and I had come to some sort of living arrangement.”

“Have you?”

“No.”

“Well, I suggest you call him up and get it straightened
out.”

“I did call him. He didn’t call me back.”

“Then call him again. Keep calling him until you get through to him. But stop jumping down everyone else’s throat because you can’t jump down his.”

“You’re right, of course.” Abby removed the drop cloth from the bed and dumped it on the floor. “And I owe you an apology. I’m just getting a little concerned, Naomi. I do not know how we will get through this winter. I have very little cash left, maybe enough to keep the house heated and to pay the utility bills and to keep us fed for three or four more months. It scares me to think about what will happen after that. What if that chimney finally goes over, or the rest of the plumbing goes bad? It just may be time to give Aunt Leila’s jewelry man a call.”

“Who’s that?”

“A man Aunt Leila sold some things to a few years ago when she needed cash. If she trusted him, I guess I can, too.”

“What will you sell?”

“Leila’s emeralds,” Abby told her, then smiled wryly. “The rest of the real stuff goes to my cousin, Susannah. The emeralds are the only pieces of value that I can, in good conscience, sell.”

“What a shame to have to part with a piece of your family history.” Naomi shook her head.

“I’m starting to get used to it.” Abby shrugged. “And besides, the emeralds won’t keep the furnace going or pay the plumber when the pipes finally crumble.”

“Yes, but they haven’t crumbled yet,” Naomi pointed out. “Why not hold on to them until you absolutely have to sell them?”

“That day may not be too far away.” Abby grimaced.

“But it’s not here yet. And besides, what if you sell them now and have the plumbing repaired, and then something else happens that’s worse than leaking pipes? Then you have nothing to fall back on.”

“Well, I guess there’s always room for a disaster greater than leaking pipes.” Abby tried to force a smile.

“Are you kidding? In a house like this?” Naomi’s eyes widened. “Why, there’s no end to what could go wrong in a house this old
…”
Naomi stopped herself, then said sheepishly, “I guess these are not exactly comforting thoughts.”

“Not very encouraging.” Abby laughed. “But all so true. And you’re right. Keeping the emeralds is like having money in the bank—especially since there’s so little of that left.”

“And besides, sooner or later, you’ll get through to Alex.” Naomi patted her on the back. “I think he simply isn’t aware of what the situation is. He’ll come through for you, Abby, as soon as he knows the truth. Sooner or later, I just know he will.”

“Better hope it’s sooner”—Abby smiled wistfully—“or it could be a very long, cold winter.”

18

“
O
h, my stars, Naomi,” Belle exclaimed. “What in the name of God’s heaven is that?”

“It’s a dog, Miz Matthews.” Naomi scooped up the small, dark, furry bundle with one hand.

“A dog, you say?” Belle peered at the squirming critter suspiciously. “Not like any dog I ever saw. My stars, Naomi, are those
barrettes
I see in that dog’s hair?”

“It’s a Lhasa apso,” Naomi announced, “and the barrettes are to keep the hair out of her eyes.”

“Lasso whatso?” Belle inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Lhasa apso. They’re from Tibet.”

“Oh my. That little dog came all the way from Tibet?”

“Well, not this one, but her ancestors sure did.” Naomi stroked the back of the tiny dog. “Cute, isn’t she?”

“Hmmm.” Belle inspected the animal as Naomi set it back on the floor. The dog turned her head to one side, inspecting Belle in precisely the same fashion. The long dark hair, parted exactly in the middle of her head, was indeed held back by tiny red barrettes, while the fur on her back, parted evenly all the way to her tail, swept the floor like a ball gown.

“Her name’s Meri Puppins,” Naomi offered.

“Me
ri
Puppins, you say?”

At the sound of her name, the little dog began to wag her tail. She looked up at Belle winsomely.

“I declare, Naomi, that dog is smiling at me,” Belle noted with no small pleasure.

“Why, Miz Matthews, I do believe she is.”

Meri Puppins took small, tentative steps in Belle’s direction, her tail wagging more slowly, as if unsure of her reception.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” Belle cooed, and the wagging resumed in earnest.

“She is a good little dog, Miz Matthews. My sister brought her over for the kids on Christmas—you know that Sharon works over at the small animal shelter three days a week?—but Sam’s allergic, and I have to return her. I thought maybe I could leave her here until I can get her back to the shelter. I had Sam to the doctor’s this morning, and he said to get the dog out of the house as soon as I could, Sam’s wheezing so badly. I was hoping to catch Abby before she left
for the store this morning so I
could ask her. ’Course, I hate to take the little thing back.” Naomi knelt and petted Meri behind the ears. “No tellin’ where she’ll end up. Only had one owner, Sharon says.”

“Oh?” Belle sat on one of the chairs in the hallway. The little dog came to her and stood on her hind legs, her front paws resting on Belle’s knees. The two seemed to study each other quite seriously. “One owner, you say?”

“Sharon says a lady from out at Edenton who raised these
dogs had a heart attack two weeks ago. Her daughter, who lives out on the other side of the interstate, found homes for all the others—her mother had all show dogs—but no one wanted Meri Puppins. Something about her tail not being quite right. In any case, we can’t keep her, either.”

“Poor little girl,” Belle whispered, and the tail wagging began again. “Is she housebroken, Naomi?”

“She most certainly is, Miz Matthews. She goes out first thing in the morning, a few times during the day—she will tell you when, incidentally—then after dinner, one more time before you lock up at night. Since we’ve had her, we’ve just opened the back door when she’s told us to, let her out, and let her back in when she asks us to. She is a smart little dog, that’s for sure. And judging from her appearance, I’d say she was quite pampered.”

“Hmmmm.” Belle stood up. “Perhaps Miss Puppins would like to watch a game show or two this morning.” Meri danced around happily at Belle’s feet, as if she knew that if she played her cards right, she’d not have to worry about returning to the shelter, that night or any other night. She lifted her head and sashayed into the morning room, close on Belle’s heels, without so much as a backward glance at the woman who’d brought her to Belle.

Naomi chuckled and let herself out the back door.

“Belle, Mr. Everett down at the pharmacy told me to tell you he was asking for you.” Abby shook the remains of cold late-December rain from her hat as she came into the morning
room. “I told him you were…
Belle, what is that thing on your lap?”

“Abigail, meet Meri Puppins.” Belle smiled happily. “Our new pet.”

“Our what?”

“Actually, she’s a dog. From Tibet. A Lahaso mopso. Or some such. Ask Naomi.” Belle explained Meri’s presence in the house, then lifted her chin and announced, “She is the loveliest dog, Abigail. I would like very much to keep her.”

“Oh, Belle, I don’t know. I’ve never had a dog. I’ve never even wanted a dog.”

“She’s not so doglike, Abigail. Truly. She’s just like a
sweet, small person. She’s been just the most delightful company.” Belle looked Abby full in the face and repeated, “I would like very much to keep her, Abigail.”

Abby and the little dog sized each other up. Meri Puppins turned on the charm.

“Belle, the dog looks like she’s smiling.” Abby peered more closely for a better look. “I never saw a dog smile before.”

“Good. Meri likes you. Then it’s settled.” Belle patted the dog on the head, as if it had been Meri’s decision to make and she was being complimented for having made the right one.

“I guess I should call Naomi and find out what it eats.” Abby sighed. There was no point in denying Belle her newfound friend.

“Meri is a ‘she,’ not an ‘it,’ ” Belle told her pointedly.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“And Naomi left her bowl and dog food in the kitchen.”

Abby placed her wet scarf on the radiator and smoothed it out. The dog jumped from Belle’s lap and followed Abby into the hallway. Abby knelt down and held her hand out for the dog to sniff.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Abby whispered. “You’re actually very pretty—love the barrettes, by the way—and you seem like a nice enough dog. It’s just that, well, you’re just one more thing that it will hurt Belle to give up. Or leave behind when she goes
…
well, when she goes to wherever it is that she ends up going. So don’t get too comfortable here, okay? And try not to get too attached. For both your sakes.”

Meri promptly turned tail and fled to the morning room and the warmth and comfort of Belle’s lap.

“
D
o you mind so much?” Naomi asked as she and Abby rounded the co
rn
er onto Cove Road. “I mean, she hasn’t been any trouble, has she?”

“No,” Abby admitted, “she’s no trouble at all. And Belle is so delighted with her, I couldn’t ask her to part with her
even if
I
was the one with the allergy. I’m just afraid it will be hard for Belle if she has to give her up.”

“Not a good enough reason to deprive her of all that puppy love now.” Naomi slowed her pace, then leaned over and rubbed the side of her left knee.

“You okay?” Abby asked with concern. “Want to sit on the bench?” She motioned toward the bus stop across the street.

“It’s okay.” Naomi grimaced. “The cold is bothering it a little. We’ll just walk a little slower, that’s all.”

“Let me know if you want to rest, and we’ll stop. Or, if you want, I’ll run home and get the car.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Really, Ab, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Abby told her. “That you’ve had to get used to it. I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“Well, you know, for a time, I was sorry for me, too.” Naomi leaned on Abby’s shoulder as they walked along. “But, you know, Abby, everything I hold most dear in this life was a result—directly or indirectly—of that accident. Colin, and, because of Colin, my children. Shucks, even the money we bought the house with came from the insurance settlement.”

“What did Colin have to do with it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that story?” Naomi frowned, then laughed. “It’s my worst news/best news story. I was in school in D.C.—coming back to the dorm from the library one afternoon. Crossing the street, daydreaming, sauntering along. Then
pow
!—out of nowhere—and I do mean
nowhere
—came the car. I literally never knew what hit me. I mean, I’ve read accounts of people being bitten by sharks, and they describe the same sensation—just
pow!
When I woke up in the hospital, I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know why. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Colin’s face. I didn’t know it was
Colin,
of course, I just opened my eyes, and this handsome blond man was sitting there, watching me with these dreamy brown eyes.” In spite of the pain, Naomi smiled at the memory.

“You mean you had amnesia, so you didn’t recognize him?”

“No, I mean I didn’t know him. Never seen him before in my life.”

“What was he doing in your hospital room?”

“Waiting for me to wake up.” Naomi’s eyes began to dance. “Colin was the police officer who brought down the man who hit me. I mean, people who witnessed the accident told me later that Colin—he’d been in a patrol car two lanes over when I got hit—got out of his car and chased this guy on foot until he caught up with him three blocks down, stopped at a red light. Pulled him right out of the car, they told me, then slid in, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and left the car there while he walked this drunk back to the patrol car. He came every day to the hospital, Colin did. Every day for ten days, till I woke up. Said he wanted to be the first person I saw, and he was.” Naomi increased her weight on Abby’s shoulder. “Do you believe in miracles, Abby?”

“Well, I don’t know that the age of miracles hasn’t passed,” Abby told her.

“Sometimes, in my dreams, I think I hear Colin prayin’ for me. Prayin’ for me to wake up.” Naomi slowed to a stop. “And every time, I
do
wake up, and I take that man in my arms and love him like there’s no tomorrow. Because I know he brought me back, Abby. Colin’s prayers brought me back. That’s miracle enough for me.”

They walked slowly, in deep silence.

“Know what he said, Ab? Colin said he came to the hospital to see if I could give a report on the accident. And when he saw me lying in that white bed, he said all he could think of was Sleeping Beauty, waiting to be brought back with a kiss. Can you believe that? Me? Sleeping Beauty?” She laughed.

“That is absolutely the most beautiful love story I’ve ever heard.”

“Every story of true love is beautiful.” Naomi smiled.

“And he followed you back to Primrose?”

“Yes, ma’am, he did. Quit the police force in D.C. and
came down here and asked me to marry him. My daddy did put in a good word for him at the police station, but it probably wasn’t necessary. I mean, by that time, everyone in Primrose had heard the story of what a hero Colin was, chasing after that car, nabbing the suspect, then waiting day after day for me to wake up. Chief Kennedy was real glad to have an officer like Colin on his force, to be sure.” Naomi nodded. “I’d never have met Colin if it hadn’t been for that drunk driver. I’d never have had Meredy or Sam.”

They’d come to Naomi’s driveway, and she bent to pick up the errant piece of newspaper that had blown onto her lawn.

“You are a most remarkable woman, Naomi,” Abby said with sincere admiration.

“Well, now, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that what I’ve got is more important than what I lost.” She smiled wryly. “Thanks for the use of your shoulder.”

“Anytime, my friend,” Abby told her as she crossed the street. “Anytime.”