Harbor Nights (6 page)

Two different answers came her way from five different people.

Joanna Stevens was bored. She had been bored most of her life, so she should be used to it by now. She wasn't. She stood in the middle of her backyard watching Zsa Zsa chase some flying insect around in circles and had what some would call an epiphany. She looked at her cute little cottage and the beginnings of a garden and realized she wasn't really living.

She was doing exactly what she had done since the week she had graduated from high school and gotten married. She cooked, cleaned, and tended the flower beds. Instead of waiting for her husband to come home at night, she was now waiting for Norah. She no longer had to tiptoe around an abusive husband who was quick with his insults and who occasionally lost his temper and struck out with his superior strength. She had Zsa Zsa to keep her company during the day, but it still wasn't enough.

She wanted to accomplish something with her life besides giving birth to Norah, knowing her way around a kitchen, and being able to tell the difference between a flower and a weed. She wanted to meet people, socialize, and become part of the community. Maybe even travel a bit. Get a passport and get it stamped at least once a decade. She needed something on her calendar besides the biannual dentist appointments and yearly mammogram. She not only wanted to live; she also wanted a life.

Since a life wasn't going to come knocking on the door and invite itself in, she would have to be the one to go out and find it. The first thing she needed to do was to get a job and to start practicing her smile for her passport photo. Traveling wasn't cheap, and it was a mighty big world out there.

While the divorce settlement and her share of the profits from the sale of her old house had been generous, she wasn't a wealthy woman. She had used the bulk of it to purchase the cottage. Norah was sharing the daily living expenses, but the home was in her name. Norah had insisted upon it. Norah had insisted on quite a few things during the past year and a half. It almost was like their roles had been reversed. Norah was the responsible adult, while she played the role of the obedient child.

Things were about to change.

She loved her daughter dearly, and the last thing she wanted was for Norah to put her life on hold because of her. For the last year and a half, Norah had stood beside her and helped her get through the divorce, the selling of their home, and even the court hearings regarding her father's abusive behavior. Norah had given up any form of a social life to be with her through the difficult months.

Now it was time for her daughter to get back into the swing of things. Norah was a beautiful young woman who deserved a chance at finding love and happiness.

If the amount of interest her daughter was stirring up with the single men in town was any indication, Norah was about to embark on a very busy social life. Two nights ago at the Porter's cookout, she had overheard Matthew Porter asking Norah out to a movie. Unbelievably, Norah had turned him down. She had a sinking feeling that she was the reason why. As long as she was home day and night, Norah would feel obliged to keep her company there. Slowly and surely, her daughter would become a bitter old maid living with her lonely old mother. All they would need would be a bunch of crazy old cats and doilies covering every square inch of overstuffed furniture to complete that dismal and depressing picture.

Enough was enough. Norah obviously wasn't going to do anything about the situation, so she guessed it was going to be up to her to get not only her own life but her daughter one also.

Joanna stripped off her gardening gloves, packed up her tools, and called Zsa Zsa. The gardens had been neglected for years; a couple more days weren't going to make a difference. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and the tourist season was just starting in Maine. Someone was surely hiring for the season, if nothing else. How hard could it be to operate a cash register or to serve up a bowl of chowder?

An hour later, Joanna headed downtown with Zsa Zsa leading the way. The Pomeranian's yellow bow matched her own sundress and the snappy sandals she had bought herself last summer during a predominantly dark period in her life. The dress hadn't particularly cheered her up then, but seeing Zsa Zsa prancing on the end of her pink, glittery leash now brought a grin to her face and put a bounce in her step. Spring had always been her favorite season.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and what a life it is going to be!
Visiting Paris in the springtime was going to be the first place she put on her “Must See” list.

The few people she passed on her walk all had stopped and praised the Pomeranian on how adorable she looked and on how well she behaved. Zsa Zsa was a people dog and the perfect instrument to use to make the acquaintance of some of the local residents and a few tourists. Everyone loved Zsa Zsa, who lapped up all the attention as if she was a movie starlet and it was her due.

The dog's only problem was that she was terrified of seagulls. The closer they got to the docks, the more anxious Zsa Zsa became. By the time they reached Main Street, which paralleled the water, Zsa Zsa was in her arms with her face pressed against Joanna's chest. The occasional child's laughter brought her head up, but there was no way the dog was leaving the safety of her arms while the gulls cried and swooped above them. There had to be some poultry blood running through Zsa Zsa's veins.

Joanna glanced up and down Main Street at the assorted shops. While she couldn't readily see any “Help Wanted” signs, she wasn't deterred. For Misty Harbor being a small town, there were quite a few businesses she could try. Claire's Boutique showed promise, as did The Pen and Ink.

Books or clothes?
She loved them both, but Claire's looked busy, and The Pen and Ink was closer. With that decision made, she set her straw tote on a bench, gently released Zsa Zsa from her leash, and placed her inside. The little Pomeranian loved to be carried around, and she seemed to feel safer within the depth of the tote than she did, out in the open where those vicious gulls could swoop down at any moment. Most of the time, people didn't even realize there was a miniature dog inside her bag, and Zsa Zsa was very fond of napping in the tote.

“Now, you be a good girl, and don't chew the lining.” Joanna placed her wallet and keys safely in the pocket inside the tote. She zipped it closed and then playfully tapped the dog's nose. Just last week, Zsa Zsa had chewed her way into her change purse and almost choked on a dime. She wasn't taking any chances today.

The tote and two others just like it were brand new additions to her summer wardrobe. She had found them in the swimsuit department in J.C. Penney's over in Bangor and had known they would be perfect for Zsa Zsa; they also had a zip pocket large enough to hold all her items. Today's model was made out of natural straw and had yellow and purple silk flowers attached to the front. It probably would have looked better on the beaches of Waikiki, instead of on the rocky coast of Maine, but she liked it. In the large scheme of things, that was what really mattered. She wasn't out to impress anyone.

Okay, maybe she was at least out to make a good first impression on her potential boss. But somehow, she didn't think a little fashion faux pas would keep her from being hired. If she could just find anyone willing to hire a forty-five-year-old woman who had never held a paying job before in her life. With one last scratch behind Zsa Zsa's right ear, she picked up the tote and headed for The Pen and Ink.

The store was just as she had pictured it would be from the outside. It was all dark wood, masculine, and dusky, as if someone was afraid that sunlight would ruin the merchandise. A bell chimed above the door as she stepped inside, and a deep voice called from the depths of the shop, “Look around; I'll be there in a moment.”

She shrugged her shoulders and looked around. The atmosphere reeked of old musty books and cigar smoke. She wrinkled her nose. The entire shop smelled like the bottom of an ashtray. Floor to ceiling bookcases were jammed with everything from hundred-year-old hardbacks to Spiderman comics. There was no rhyme or reason to the order that she could detect. She lightly ran her fingertips over the spines of some childhood favorite Nancy Drew originals that were scattered throughout old issues of
National Geographic
when it hit her. There was a system after all. Whoever stocked the shelves placed the books or magazines by color.

A quick glance at the other shelves confirmed her suspicions. Everything was indeed arranged by color. How in the world did anyone ever find anything? More importantly, how did anyone stand the stench of what had to be a century of cigar and pipe smoke that penetrated every square inch of the shop? Who would buy a book that reeked of her Uncle Fred's den, which she remembered from her childhood visits?

She didn't know what would be worse—working all day in such gloom or heading home at night smelling like one of Uncle Fred's stogies. Either way, there was no way she'd spend more time than necessary in this particular shop.

A glance into the back connecting room of the shop explained the smell. The back half of The Pen and Ink was a tobacco shop. Two ancient leather chairs sat on either side of a small, round table. A chess board, apparently in mid game, and two overflowing ashtrays filled the table. Whoever was moving the white pieces seemed to be winning. An old globe took up one corner, and an expensive area rug covered most of the dark wooden floor. The faded rug had a few burn marks. Someone should be counting his or her lucky stars that the whole place hadn't been burnt to the ground. Glass jars containing pipe tobacco filled half the shelves. Cartons of cigarettes and boxes of cigars were jammed everywhere else.

How was it possible that this room looked worse than the book section?

Deep within the tote, Zsa Zsa sneezed. The poor baby didn't like the smell any more than she did. The owner obviously had better things to do than wait on a customer. It was time for her to head over to Claire's Boutique and see if they were accepting applications.

She was halfway to the door when footsteps sounded behind her at the exact instant that Zsa Zsa sneezed again.

“God bless you.” A deep voice broke the silence.

She turned and politely smiled. Since Zsa Zsa couldn't thank the man, she would. “Thank you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I just stopped in to have a look around.” She felt a little guilty for leaving so quickly. “I just moved into town, and I was out for a walk. It's such a beautiful day.”

“That it is.” The gentleman held out his hand. “I'm Gordon Hanley, and this is my domain.”

“Joanna Stevens.” She shook his hand. Gordon Hanley was at least six feet, two inches tall, and he was in his mid fifties. Her first impression was that she should invite him home and give him a good meal with an extra slice or two of pie. The man was pale and entirely too thin. With an old book in one hand and a smoldering pipe in the other, he looked as if he should be wandering the hallowed halls of academia. There was something scholarly about Gordon Hanley.

“Welcome to Misty Harbor, Ms. Stevens.”

“Thank you, and please call me Joanna. It's a wonderful town. Everyone is so nice and pleasant.”

“To you, I can't imagine them not being nice.”

She wasn't sure, but she got the feeling Gordon Hanley might be flirting with her. It was a new experience. She had noticed him glancing at her bare left hand. “You have a very”—she searched for the right word and came up with—“unique store, Mr. Hanley.”

“All my friends call me Gordon.” His hazel eyes seemed to brighten at her use of the word “unique.” “If you're ever in the market for a book or a good cigar, you know where to come.”

“That I do.” She smiled and turned to go.

Zsa Zsa sneezed again before she could make it to the door.

“Oh, Joanna?”

“Yes, Gordon?” She slowly turned and faced him.

A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I do believe your pocketbook sneezed again.”

“I know. She's allergic to smoke.” With that, she turned and walked out of the door. There was no sense in explaining Zsa Zsa. Because if she did, she would have to haul the sneezing Pomeranian out of the tote and subject her to more smoke, which would make her reaction worse. Better to keep Gordon guessing as to what was in the bag.

Being a woman of mystery held a certain appeal to her this morning. If she was starting a new life in Misty Harbor, she might as well add some excitement to it. Even if the mystery was only a sneezing dog.

She slowed down as she passed Bailey's Ice Cream Parlor and Emporium. On the sidewalk directly in front of the shop, both white iron tables with matching chairs and pink umbrellas were empty. Inside the shop, she could see two teenagers scooping out ice cream to what had to be half a dozen more teenagers. The ice cream parlor was obviously the local teenage hangout.

The shop next to Bailey's wasn't open for the season yet. Fishing net, red plastic lobsters, and assorted seashells were in the display window. Through the window, she could see a woman and two teenagers unpacking boxes of what appeared to be T-shirts and other tourist merchandise. She bypassed those shops and headed for Claire's.

Claire's Boutique was the total opposite of The Pen and Ink. Where Gordon's store was dark and gloomy, Claire's was white and bright. All the display racks and shelves were painted a crisp white. The walls were a pale yellow, and the floor was gleaming golden oak. Merchandise in an array of summer colors and fabrics was everywhere. Wide windows, each displaying a well-dressed mannequin, allowed in an abundant amount of sunlight. Two crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and there were even a dozen yellow roses in a antique silver vase near the cash register. Elegant described the shop and the merchandise.