Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
Embers (34 page)
Hell, maybe they just didn
'
t like men. His arm felt as if it was about to fall off.
Damn it,
he thought, telepathizing his anger at the ill-bred beasts.
Eat this.
One of the pair darted not far away from his head
— close enough for him to hear its wings flutter. In his life, he
'
d never heard the flutter of a bird
'
s wings. Instantly his frustration drained away, replaced by
—he didn
'
t know what. A feeling that maybe environmentalists weren
'
t all left-wing kooks. A sense that his life so far had been more deprived than he thought. A hunch that in the divine order of living things, chickadees might rank higher than humans.
When the bird came back
—
after a minute, after an hour, he didn
'
t know or care which
—
and alighted on his thumb, he felt a sense of piercing bliss. The bird flew off without a seed. It hardly mattered. The bird
would
take a seed. He knew that now.
At that moment he heard Allie cry out,
"
Tom! I drove by your
—
"
He turned in time to see Allie approaching them with a look on her face that was entirely new: of being excluded. He greeted her, and so did Meg, with a heartiness that he knew neither of them felt.
Very possibly Allie sensed it, because it was more of a command than a request when she said,
"
You
'
re feeding the birds from your hands? Let
me
try.
"
Meg laughed, but there was an edge to it that Wyler hadn
'
t heard before.
"
Allie Atwells, you don
'
t have the patience to boil tea. You could never stand still long enough for them to come to you.
"
"
Really? That shows how little you know me, Margaret.
"
"
Okay, fine. If you can last for just five minutes, I
'
ll do up your share of the rooms for a week.
"
"
Okay, fine. Give me some seed.
"
Meg tipped the feeder upside down into her sister
'
s hand, then sat back on the bench to watch. Wyler himself retreated a little distance away from them both, anxious not to be a distraction in their contest. From his new vantage behind the flowering shrub, he was able to compare Allie to her older sister.
Different breed of cat entirely. Allie was taller, more slender, more exotic, more brightly dressed (in fuschia and purple), more this, more that, more everything. Allie Atwells did not
—
would never
—
blend into her surroundings, indoors or out. She was the center, she was the showpiece, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Still, she gave it her best shot. For a good long time she stood stock-still: a more graceful, elegant figure Wyler could never hope to see. The birds, by now thoroughly confused about just exactly who or what the feeder was, continued to hang back. Allie frowned
and
bit her lower lip in concentration.
And then she turned to her older sister and said,
"
Does that include the bathroom off the landing?
"
Meg jumped up with a victorious whoop.
"
I
knew
you wouldn
'
t last. Three minutes, thirteen seconds!
"
Realizing her faux pas, Allie blushed becomingly and laughed. She was absolutely charming, a great sport. Once he would
'
ve found it enchanting.
Now, he hardly noticed.
14
W
yler had rubbed elbows with Uncle Billy on Chicken Pie Night at the Inn Between, but he hadn
'
t yet seen the man in his traditional role as Lord of the Manor.
He was impressed.
Bill Atwells
'
s house was a solidly built Tudor on an acre of well-sited land overlooking
Bar Harbor
. The house had a personality more stiff than charming, more proper than whimsical, but from the flat-topped yews to the ball-shaped spruces, it suggested an owner who had the money and the desire to show the summer folk that town boys could be house-proud too.
Wyler and his passengers
—
Allie, Meg, Lloyd, and the twins —
unfolded themselves
out of his Cutlass and made their way up the curving flagstone path to the front door. Meg was walking ahead of him, riding shotgun on Terry. She had one hand on the boy
'
s shoulder as she issued last-minute instructions in his ear, which Wyler assumed included a warning not to leave the state without permission.
She needs kids of her own.
The thought popped into his head from nowhere, but once there, it lingered. Meg was so obviously designed for nurturing: from her strong and capable figure to the way she rushed in whenever anyone was at a loss, everything about Meg Hazard said
"
parent.
"
He had learned from Allie early on of Meg
'
s two miscarriages. He thought of the zillions of teenage mothers he
'
d seen in the course of his career. How ironic that this obviously qualified woman had no children of her own.
He thought of his own son, lively and brown-eyed and three thousand miles away, and felt a sudden, aching sense of loss.
"
Tom Wyler, if you
'
re not going to listen, I
'
m not going to talk.
"
Allie was alongside in her fuschia short shorts and purplish cut-out top. The outfit was wonderfully easy on the eyes
—
but she had to be freezing.
"
I heard every word you said,
"
he protested.
"
You were asking me whether I
'
d ever gone sailing. The answer is never.
"
He
'
d rather sled on hot lava.
"Good,"
said Allie with a mysterious smile.
They passed through the front door and into a breezeway lined with potted palms. Wyler could see why they
'
d been routed to the picnic this way: the effect of the twin sets of French doors thrown open to the view of the grounds and the harbor beyond was spectacular. The vast lawn, every blade in place, rolled down a gentle slope, ending in what someone said was a right-of-way to the shore. Ornamental trees and evergreens had been planted on the sides of the lawn, framing but not obstructing the view of dozens of yachts moored in the harbor. A cruise ship the size of the QE2
—maybe it
was
the
QE2
—
was
approaching with its anchors poised.
Wyler hadn
'
t seen too many backyards like this one.
Two dozen kids and grownups had already assembled, looking much more ordinary than the view: lots of jeans and shirts from Wal-Mart was Wyler
'
s guess. He had the impression that Uncle Billy was
the
success story in this bunch, and that once a year he liked to remind them of it.
Uncle Billy himself was hovering over a mammoth stainless-steel barbecue grill, very definitely not from Wal-Mart. When he saw the new arrivals he waved them over.
"
Hey, hey! What
'
s the word?
"
he said jovially. He pointed out his new toy with the screwdriver he still held in his hand.
"
Ain
'
t she a beaut? Not like them slimpsey things you find in your big chains nowadays. This one oughtta go us some. I just hope them steaks is unthawed and ready, that
'
s all.
"
He hugged Meg with his free arm and said,
"
Thanks for giving up Comfort all week. This year she
'
s outdone herself; wait
'
ll you see. Lloyd, I
'
d marry her m
'
self if I thought she
'
d leave you. You
'
re one lucky baster. Allie! Yer half nekked. Put something on, for Chrissake. Glad you could come, L
'
tinnant. How long you aimin
'
to stay in
...
Ba Ha Ba?
"
he said in a wry acknowledgment of Wyler
'
s T-shirt.
Without waiting for an answer from any of them, he said,
"
Beer
'
s in the tub, pop
'
s in the cooler,
"
and rushed off to greet the next incoming guests.
"
Well, I guess we
'
ve made it through the receiving
line
,
"
said Meg dryly.
"
I
'
d better go help Comfort.
"
But she didn
'
t run off, and that made Wyler unaccountably pleased.
"
Allie?
"
Meg said at last to her sister.
"
You planning to pitch in?
"
Allie laughed and said,
"
Look around; do you see any women? They
'
re all in the kitchen with Comfort. There
'
s probably not enough room to swing a cat in there. How about if Tom and I start setting up the chairs and tables out here instead?
"
The sisters exchanged a look
—
Wyler saw the look; he just didn
'
t know what the hell it meant
—
and then Meg said coldly,
"
Well, I can
'
t force you.
"
Meg left and Allie sighed deeply. She was close to tears. Confused, Wyler said,
"
Is something wrong?
"
One tear made it out and down Allie
'
s cheek.
"
Something
is. Meg and I don
'
t get along at all anymore.
"
"
Don
'
t be silly,
"
he told her.
"
You two are closer than any two people I know.
"
He took out a handkerchief, which seemed excessive for one teardrop.
"
Meg thinks I
'
m being a princess,
"
Allie said in a low, hurt voice.
"
I didn
'
t mean to be. It breaks my heart when she
'
s angry with me. I
'
d better go help in the kitchen.
"
"
Don
'
t be silly,
"
he said again, dabbing awkwardly at her cheek. The one thing he didn
'
t want Allie to do was leave him alone with two dozen standoffish strangers.
"
Meg agreed with you. And I don
'
t want you to go,
"
he admitted selfishly.
Allie looked away, toward the harbor.
"
Really?
"
she asked in a voice as soft as silk.
"
Really. C
'
mon, let
'
s set up some tables,
"
he said, taking her by the hand and walking with her to a small potting shed where half a dozen folding tables were stacked on end.
"
I
'
m surprised they
'
re not out already.
"
"
Heavens, no,
"
Allie said with a grin so radiant that it vied with the sun.
"
Uncle Billy never wants them marring the view until the last possible moment.
"
They grabbed hold of the first table, and that set off a silent signal that brought all the men running. Reluctant to approach Wyler purely on social grounds, the men seemed much more willing to mingle now that there was work to do.
