Stargazey Point (26 page)

“You shut your mouth, Jerome. You’re never going to make it in the world if you slide to the lowest level every time some piece of scum acts true to his nature. You take the high road. And that goes for the rest of you.”

“Ervina gonna put the curse on him,” Dani said defiantly.

“Ervina is not going to put a curse on anybody. Let me think.”

“Couldn’t you call social services?” Abbie asked.

Sarah laughed. “You’re kidding, right? How do you think they got where they are?”

The twins turned to the door and started walking slowly toward it.

“Hey, where are you going?” Abbie blurted out. She was a visitor here, had only known the twins for a few days, but she was with Jerome. Just let anyone try to hurt them.

“We got no fambly hist’ry now,” Dani said.

Not one they wanted to remember anyway,
Abbie thought. “But you already took some footage—some pictures—of the gazebo, that’s part of the town’s history.”

“That’s all done up,” Joe mumbled.

“But there’s something else that needs its story told that I don’t think anyone has done yet.” But that would keep everybody’s interest.

Two hopeful children turned back to her.

“The carousel,” Abbie said, hoping she wasn’t promising something she couldn’t deliver on.

“Huh?”

“The merry-go-round. Has anyone thought about documenting it?”

Their eyes grew rounder. “Mr. Cab’s merry-go-round?”

“The very one. It’s a big part of Stargazey Point’s history. And it should get to be documented, too.” Abbie mentally crossed her fingers that Cab wouldn’t mind having a couple of children underfoot while he was trying to work.

“We’ll have to ask him first if it’s okay.”

“He’ll say no.”

“Maybe not,” Abbie said.

Sarah shook her head, but she was smiling. “Well, you’re in luck, ’cause I think I just heard his Range Rover pull up outside.”

“Well, let’s go ask him,” Abbie said, not feeling nearly as enthusiastic as she sounded. Surely Cab wouldn’t disappoint the twins further by not allowing them into the carousel.

Nothing ventured nothing gained,
she thought and almost laughed. It sounded like something one of the Crispins would say. She took each twin by the hand. “Come on, you two, let’s go talk to a man about a horse.”

In the end, the entire group plus Abbie, Jerome, and Sarah were waiting for Cab when he got out of the car.

C
ab turned to see a whole boatload of kids surrounding his SUV, but it was Abbie he saw first.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, a little spasmodically, then she smiled, narrowed her eyes at him in what he thought must be her attempt at the evil eye.

“We’ve got an offer you can’t refuse.” An even more intent stare.

“Okay,” he said slowly. She was trying to send him a message. Something he couldn’t refuse. He just hoped he could say yes and not disappoint her and evidently everyone else.

Dani and Joe, the twins, flanked her and they leaned into her. She was too thin for them to hide behind.

“We were just discussing how good for business it would be if there was documentation of the carousel renovation.”

She sounded so stilted that he had trouble not laughing.

“I’ve thought of that myself,”

“And the twins need a project,” she said. Moving closer, she added under her breath, “They won’t get in your way; just take a little footage to make into a tape.”

He took one look at those kids and the others surrounding them and knew he was suckered.

“Excellent idea,” he said and watched Abbie’s face relax in relief.

Sarah gave him a nod of approval, and the twins, miraculously recovering from their shyness, jumped up and down. “We gonna film the merry-go-round! We gonna film the merry-go-round!”

Damn if it didn’t break his heart. “I’d better go tell Beau.”

He headed for the carousel and realized he was being followed by the entire group. Abbie gave him a look that said it was out of her control. He tried not to smile. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be patient enough to let the twins be underfoot, much less a dozen of them.

He didn’t really have any experience with children. But that wasn’t entirely true, he realized as he stopped at the door and turned to face the group again. Every summer of his boyhood, he’d seen faces like these waiting in line to ride the carousel. He’d shared the excitement and the wonder. Hell, that was part of the reason he’d come back.

“I’ll give you a quick tour, but stick together and don’t touch anything. I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he said in an afterthought. He was actually more concerned about his animals than he was about the kids and that was surely the wrong way around.

He took a breath and opened the door. They all piled in, and the delighted sighs and squeals that he’d been imagining for the last year became a reality. And he felt damned good.

Beau must have heard them, because he came to the door of the workshop, looking slightly dazed. He quickly disappeared again. Beau didn’t share his work and it had been a hell of a time convincing him to work on the carousel at all. Cab didn’t know what had happened all those years ago that made Beau give up his art, but whatever it was, Beau was still not willing to acknowledge his gift.

Cab hoped to hell having the kids here wouldn’t drive him away. It would take the two of them and more to get the carousel up and running by summer.

For a second Cab felt that sick drop of his stomach when he actually considered what might happen if he failed. Or if he became bored or went broke. He could always get another job as an architect or contractor; that’s not what scared him. What scared him most was that his dream would turn out to be bogus, and all the work and love and hope he’d put into it would betray him in the end.

“Thank you.” Abbie’s voice drew him back to reality.

“For what?”

“For giving these kids something to look forward to. It’s been a bad day for them.”

“One of many.” But he felt unjustifiably touched by her thanks. Whether he deserved it or not was another question.

“This has got to be a quick one, because some people”—Sarah stopped to look at certain members of the group—“have tutoring today.”

“No, Miss Sarah. This is better.”

“So it is. But Cab has work to do and so do you. I’m sure he’ll let us come back.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Cab.

He showed them the platform. Moved them back while he turned on the engine and the platform jerked to life.

“But there’re no horses,” Lucy complained. Her pigtails swung as she followed the moving rods.

“They’re getting a fresh coat of paint. You can look in at the door, but you’ll have to wait to get a closer look.”

Cab stepped inside the workshop, and the others crowded into the doorway. Joe squirmed to the front of the line.

“I’m gonna ride that one.” Joe pointed to Lady, half covered by a tarp.

“She was my favorite, too. Her name is Midnight Lady,” Cab said. He managed to grab Joe as he darted forward. He handed him back to Abbie, who looked apologetic. “But her mane was just painted, so she can’t be touched until it dries.”

There was pushing from the back, but before pandemonium broke out, Abbie had moved the front group to the back and maneuvered another batch to the front. They looked at the animals, and she moved them on, too. In a few minutes, everyone had gotten a firsthand look.

“Now I have to get back to work,” Cab said, trying to sound chipper as all hell. Actually he was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Well, thank you for having us,” Abbie said.

The two of them had to physically force the group out into the parking lot.

“See ya tomorrah, Mr. Cab,” Dani said, all smiles.

Cab nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Abbie said. “I mean it.” And she hurried after the group before he could even respond.

“I want to work on the carousel history, too,” Kyle said.

“Me, too.”

“And me, too.”

“Me, too. Me, too.”

“We all want to work on the carousel.”

Abbie turned, and their eyes met over the heads of the children. And how could he say anything but “Fine”?

I
’ve never seen them so enthusiastic,” Sarah said as they climbed the steps. “The carousel’s so close that if it was a snake it would’ve bit me, and I didn’t even think to make use of it.”

“You wanted to do family histories. Something that should be done.”

“But not by kids.”

“This will be the start, and we’ll see where it goes from here.”

“Works for me. Hey, you guys calm down and listen to Abbie. She’s gonna tell you what to do next.”

They started by cleaning up the media room. Two of the older kids printed out a sign that said media room, and they hung it on the door. They moved equipment and labeled shelves, then talked about the carousel.

It was almost six before Abbie realized she wasn’t going to make it back to Crispin House in time to help with dinner.

She called Marnie and apologized profusely. “I just started a project and it’s taking longer than I expected.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll leave you a plate in the oven. Or get Cab to take you out to dinner.”

“Thanks, it’s just that I told the kids . . .”

“It’s my meeting night, and Millie will be content with
Jeopardy!
Go have some fun.”

Several kids left for home. A few minutes later a woman came in and spoke to Sarah. She looked over at Abbie, gave her a lengthy once-over, then Sarah brought her over and introduced her as Jenny’s grandmother, Momo. She was young, probably not over forty years of age. She was polite and curious.

As soon as the last batch left, Sarah began turning off the lights, and Jerome reluctantly shut down the computer. He gathered up the twins who were practically hidden by the couch cushions where they were watching a snowy rerun of
Flipper
. He turned off the ancient set, collected their backpacks, and led them out.

Sarah plopped down on the couch the twins had just vacated.

Abbie collapsed beside her.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“Just wait until summer. Most of them will come first thing in the morning and stay until we kick them out.”

“Summer? You’re using that ‘we’ awfully freely.”

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “I’m counting on you.”

They were staring at each other when the door opened and Cab walked in.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

“Depends,” Sarah said.

“Depends on what?”

“On what you’re offering.”

“Dinner?”

“Sorry, I already got a date.”

“Does she?” Cab asked.

Abbie shrugged. “No idea.”

“What about you? Do you have a—” He stopped abruptly, remembering what he’d heard about the last time someone mentioned dates. “Something to do tonight?”

Sarah guffawed into her hand.

Abbie gave her a look and turned to him. “Do I have a date? No. But you don’t have to ask me to dinner.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did Marnie call you?”

She knew in an instant that she’d guessed right. Cab looked totally guilty. It was pretty endearing.

Sarah had moved onto silent chortling.

Cab cleared his throat. “Well, yes, but I was going to come over anyway. I thought you wanted to hear what the assessor had to say.”

The assessor. She’d forgotten all about him.

“I do.”

“Not here, you don’t. I’m locking up.” Sarah jangled keys at them. “But the Silver Surfer is open nights, and it has a great ambience for talking if you don’t mind screaming over loud music. Bet you haven’t even been to that end of town, have you?”

“I don’t recall seeing anything called the Silver Surfer.”

“Up-scale beach bum.” Sarah grinned. “Expensive junk food.”

“Actually I was thinking barbecue,” Cab told her. “What do you say? With Silas closed, Sonny’s has the best barbecue in the county. It’s about a half hour away, but it’s worth the drive.”

Abbie bit her lip. It was tempting. And she did want to hear about the assessor. Besides, now that he’d mentioned dinner, she realized she was starving.

“You had her at barbecue,” Sarah said. “Now get the hell out of here. This mess ain’t going anywhere overnight. See
you
”—she pointed to Abbie—“at two.”

Sarah waited for them to go out then locked the door behind them.

“Sure you don’t want to go?” Abbie asked.

“Yep.”

“You want a ride home?” Cab asked.

“Nope,” Sarah said and walked into the night.

“She certainly has a theatrical streak,” Abbie said, watching Sarah’s slim retreating figure.

“She learned it from the best.”

“Ervina?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is Ervina really . . .” Abbie groped for a word. Not a witch. A wisewoman? She was certainly that.

“Full of crap?” He sighed. “Not really. But it’s hard to always tell what’s real and what’s posturing.” He opened the car door for her, and she climbed agilely into the front seat.

The town looked deserted. The porch light was on at the inn, but only one lamp shone in the first-floor window, and the windows above were all dark.

Abbie wondered if Bethanne was sitting alone at the kitchen table, missing her husband. Or maybe she was out drinking margaritas with Penny at the Silver Surfer, which was open and lit up like a giant pinball machine. Cars were parked along front and in the spaces across the street.

It seemed to be the only hot spot in town.

“Do you still get tourists in the summer?”

“Some. It was at an all-time low a couple of years ago, but with the beach rebuilding, they’ve started coming back. Last summer Bethanne had most of her rooms let out for most of the season.” He sighed as he looked ahead to where the headlights carved out a cone in the darkness. “But ‘most’ isn’t good enough if you want to make a go of it. For the inn or any other business. We’re working on it.”

He turned down a road that curved away from town. It was black as pitch, and she couldn’t imagine where this place was. It felt like they were at the end of the earth. They were. She’d felt it more than once since she’d been here. The end of the world, the end of the line.