Love Like the Dickens: A Heartswell Harbour Romance

by Mavis Williams

  “I feel like a bloated whale.” She shuffled to the empty armchair and lowered herself slowly into it. “And Paul is useless. And it’s snowing. And Mrs. Crawley is on an ego trip like she’s the star of a Broadway musical. And what are you two doing, anyway?”

  He glanced at Agnes who sat up in her chair, her eyes slightly puffy from crying. He knew without asking that she would not want Nora to know what they had been talking about. Nora wouldn’t really want to know either.

  “We’re having a coffee on a snowy morning,” he said. “Can I get you one?”

  Nora ignored him. She looked at Agnes with narrowed eyes. Agnes blinked back at her, looking like a librarian on her best behavior.

  “Your lease is only until New Years,” Nora stated. “You’ll be leaving then.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Oscar flinched under Nora’s brusque manner.

  “Yes,” Agnes said, offering a smile. “That’s my plan.”

  “So, you came to Heartswell… why? Surely not just to hit on my father?”

  “Nora!” Oscar spoke sharply.

  “Well? You have to admit it’s strange. She arrives here out of the blue, gets a role in our silly little community theatre and then apparently becomes your Sunday morning coffee buddy almost overnight. You know he doesn’t have any money, right?”

  Agnes gasped. Oscar looked at the ceiling, fighting the urge to discipline his child as if she were a six-year-old. He had never been an effective parent, and he felt his many errors were coming home to roost as his oldest child struggled with her pregnancy and her challenging marriage. Even so, her tone and her accusations were unacceptable.

  “Nora, there’s no need—” he began.

  “I’m not after him for his money,” Agnes said, her cheeks flaming as she rose to her feet and stared down at Nora. “It’s all purely physical between us.”

  Nora’s jaw dropped as Agnes turned on her heel and marched out the back door of the shop. She caught Oscar’s eye and winked at him as she closed the door behind her.

  Nora sputtered, smoothing her hands over the bulge of her belly and looking like she had as a child when someone bested her at a game of checkers.

  “Nora, there is no need to be rude to Agnes.”

  “I’m not being rude,” she grumbled. “I’m just trying to protect you. I know Paisley is pushing you to find a relationship, but I’m telling you Dad, single is better.”

  He sat across from her with his elbows on his knees.

  “How are things with Paul?” he asked gently.

  “Paul who?” she said, frowning at the floor.

  Oscar nodded. Nora’s husband Paul had a way of putting Paul first, an unacceptable habit that seemed to have gotten worse the further along Nora’s pregnancy progressed. It hurt her, but he felt powerless to help. His ex-wife had often told him that he had no emotions, and while he knew that the feelings he had for his daughters were real and complex and deep, he rarely knew how to express them.

  “Would you like me to speak to him?” He wasn’t sure what he would say, but he was willing to be the angry father stepping in to defend his daughter if that’s what she wanted.

  “Please, Dad,” Nora scoffed. “I’ll handle my own marriage, thank you very much.”

  Oscar nodded, silent in the face of her disdain.

  “She’s too young for you, Dad.”

  He paused, Agnes’ smile flashing through his mind. Her tousled hair when he’d surprised her after her break in. Her tenacity in following the steps of her sister’s questionable bucket list.

  “I know she is.” His predictable life wrapped around him like a comfortable sweater. How odd that Agnes showed him there were holes in the worn fabric. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “You’re going to be a grandfather. That woman hasn’t even had a child yet.”

  She was right. Grandfathers don’t go on dates with beautiful younger women.

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Dad.”

  “Your mother often told me I had no emotions,” he said. “So, I’m probably safe.”

  “I just came by to collect the props you said you had for the play?” Nora obviously felt she’d fulfilled her mission. Prevent Dad from embarrassing himself. He should thank her.

  She pulled herself to her feet, one hand bracing the small of her back. “If you can carry them out to the car, I’ll deliver them to Mrs. Crawley before she goes entirely ballistic.”

  “Aren’t you helping with costumes? I thought props were Paisley’s job?” He lifted a box from behind the counter. “Is Irenia doing the stage manager’s job now as well?”

  “Irenia is determined to make this a one-woman show by the end,” Nora said. She smiled a thin smile and moved to give him a hug. “I thought doing the props job would be a good diversion, you know? A break from work, something social. It’s exhausting me.”

  He felt the warm bulk of her belly between them and he placed a hand on the gentle swell. “You’re so beautiful, Nora. I’m so… pleased… that you’re going to be a mother…”

  His words staggered to a halt as she grunted at him. He couldn’t even begin to express his wonder at becoming a grandfather.

  “I’ll be a better grandfather than I was a father.”

  “Oh God, Dad! Don’t get all emotional on me, will ya?” Her voice was taunt, but she smiled at him with tired eyes. “I can only handle so much drama at once, ok, and right now? Irenia Crawley is more than enough for me.”

  Nine

  “I usually really enjoy our HAWC meetings.” Belinda frowned over her shoulder as they climbed the sweeping staircase of the old theatre. “Unfortunately, I don’t expect this one to be much fun.”

  Oscar wasn’t sure how he’d been roped in to attending the evening meeting of the Heartswell Association of Women who Care, and he could tell by the look on Agnes’ face that she was wondering the same thing. He wasn’t even a woman, yet here he was, once again responding to the whims of Irenia Crawley.

  “Your cousin was most insistent, Belinda,” he said, opening the door to the meeting room.

  “My cousin is nothing but insistent,” she grumbled. She turned and grabbed Agnes by the arm and dragged her toward the large conference table in the middle of the room. “Sit with me Agnes. Remind me to be polite if I start to lose my cool.”

  Agnes cast an imploring glance at Oscar but he merely shrugged.

  More ladies began to file in, chatting, smiling and taking their seats. Oscar sat across the table from Agnes, glad to have an excuse to look at her.

  “Of course, Irenia isn’t here yet.” Belinda muttered under her breath. “She likes to make an entrance, which means starting the meetings five minutes late. Every time.”

  Agnes patted her hand. It didn’t seem to help.

  Everyone was talking at once. Belinda sat primly on the edge of her seat with her hands folded on the table, her notebook and pen sitting precisely in front of her and her reading glasses poised on the tip of her nose, observing the goings on like a judge.

  And there were such goings on.

  The membership of the HAWC were all in a twitter because the Mayor of Heartswell Harbour, the Honorable Dr. R.J. Stanhope himself, was due to arrive to grace this emergency meeting that Irenia had called out-of-the-blue, fully expecting everyone to drop everything to attend to her whims. She had told Oscar his services would be required, although she had been vague about what that might mean.

  “You’re handy with a hammer, Mr. Lake,” she had said ambiguously. So here he sat, expecting to be pressed into service yet again. Paisley wasn’t attending, he noticed. Agnes smiled at him, looking like he felt.

  A grey-haired lady darted into the meeting room, bustling over to sit in the vacant seat beside Belinda. Oscar leaned forward discreetly to listen.

  “What a lot of to-do and bother,” the woman whispered to Belinda. “All this fuss for that stodgy old man? He smells like cabbage, you know.”

  Oscar hid a grin as
Agnes giggled out loud.

  “Irenia insisted, Rosalee.” Belinda grumbled, ignoring Agnes. “Something about new legislation regarding parade protocol, and some blather about the tree lighting. She seems to have forgotten that the tree was cut down last spring after that lightning storm blasted half the branches off the poor thing.”

  “If anyone can come up with a plan,” Rosalee spoke with reverence. “It’s our Mrs. Crawley.”

  Belinda grunted.

  “Are you quite well, Belinda dear?” Rosalee placed a hand on Belinda’s arm.

  “Irenia has forced herself into the role of Scrooge.” Belinda tried to keep her voice low, but several other HAWC members looked toward her as she leaned her head closer to Rosalee. “It’s a travesty,” she hissed. “Scrooge— a woman?”

  “Oh now, Belinda dear.” Rosalee patted her arm. Oscar was impressed by the restraint Belinda exercised. He knew she wanted to snap like an angry terrier. “If anyone can rescue the play after the tragic withdrawal of Mr. LeRoue, it’s Irenia.”

  “It wasn’t tragic at all! He threw out his back on the very first day the cast list was announced. We hadn’t even started rehearsals!”

  Belinda clamped her lips shut as Louanne and Iris, stalwart HAWC informers, glared at her from across the table. Oscar winked at Agnes, who sat looking from one woman to the next like a deer in the headlights.

  “Well, it’s true,” Belinda said, glaring back at them. “We could have asked any of a number of men to fill the role. Iris, your husband for example. He would have loved to have the part, I’m certain.”

  “Vincent?” Iris Prophet waved a gloved hand dismissively. “You forget, Belinda, that my Vincent is recovering from a heart attack. Never mind the fact that he’s hopelessly forgetful. He’d forget his lines even if all he had to say was Bah! Humbug!”

  “Now, now, is someone trying to steal my thunder?” Irenia’s voice sliced through the air like a siren. Oscar sighed. Irenia Crawley, bedecked in flowing scarves and a fashionable turban, strode into the room, followed by a portly gentleman with a florid face and what looked like a drop of gravy on his well-rounded stomach.

  Belinda leaned toward Rosalee. “A turban?” she hissed. “I ask you, does she think she’s become some kind of bohemian starlet?”

  “I think it’s charming,” Rosalee said. “Not everyone can pull off a turban, you know. She looks simply regal, doesn’t she?”

  Belinda didn’t have a chance to answer as Irenia took her place at the head of the table, gesturing to the florid man to sit to her right.

  “To order, to order my ladies,” she trilled. “I call to order this emergency meeting of the Heartswell Association of Women who Care, and I welcome his eminence, the Honorable Doctor R.J. Stanhope, Mayor of our fair village.”

  There was polite applause. Belinda busied herself by taking off her glasses, opening her notebook and closing it. She put her glasses back on and opened the notebook again. Rosalee nudged her gently with a tart look.

  “I would hope, Irenia—” the Mayor began, “—that we would be on a first name basis. Please, ladies, call me R.J.”

  The ladies tittered and batted their eyelashes at the Mayor while Oscar coughed softly into his fist.

  Even R.J. would make a better Scrooge than Irenia.

  “It has come to my attention that you worthy ladies of the Hearstwell people who… um…” the Mayor looked at Irenia for guidance.

  “Heartswell Association of Women who Care,” she enunciated carefully.

  “Quite so, quite so. It has come to my attention that you ladies have undertaken the vital role of celebrating the Season in Heartswell, by creating a Christmas performance for our small stage, yes?”

  The Mayor nodded expectantly at the gathered women, his jowls wobbling like the Ghost of Christmas Pudding. Oscar wondered if he could just quietly slip away unnoticed, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon Agnes. She looked like this was about as much fun as chewing glass.

  “It’s more than a mere performance, R.J.” Irenia sat up straighter in her chair.

  Here it comes. Oscar wished he could warn Agnes. Belinda began doodling in her notebook. Irenia raised her arms to the ceiling, her turban tilting dangerously to the left.

  “It shall be a spectacle!” she thundered. “We will be the talk of the Province, the toast of the cultural scene, the jewel in the theatrical crown of our fair land!”

  “Oh my.” The Mayor looked concerned. “I had no idea you were planning— I mean, my understanding was that it was simply community theatre. So, it’s to be quite grand is it?”

  “Grand, Mayor Stanhope? It shall be legendary.”

  Belinda groaned. Rosalee poked her in the side.

  “I see. Well, then.” Dr. R.J. Stanhope surveyed the horizon of grey hair before him as if looking for a signal light to provide him with direction. He glanced at Oscar, finally noticing him as the only other man in the room. “And you must be Scrooge?”

  Belinda coughed.

  “I have been pressed into duty, Mayor.” Irenia bowed her head, her turban wobbling precariously. “After much pressure from my peers—” she gestured expansively to the dozen women sitting around the table. “—I have accepted the mantle of Ebenezer himself.”

  R.J. looked bemused.

  “I see,” he said, obviously not seeing at all.

  “The tree was cut down in the spring,” Belinda blurted. Oscar wondered if they were about to witness a bare-knuckle showdown between herself and her turbaned cousin. “So, the tree-lighting is going to be a problem.”

  “The tree-lighting.” The Mayor leapt at this return to reason, eagerly smiling at the assembled audience as if to welcome them back to solid ground. “Have no fear, ladies. Indeed, our traditional tree in front of the Town Hall has been removed after last spring’s weather debacle, but we are bringing in a tree that has been graciously donated by the U-Pick out on highway 101.”

  There was a collective groan from around the table. The U-Pick was notorious for it’s tiny, stunted trees.

  “Mayor,” Annie Bennett spoke up from the far end of the table. Belinda smiled encouragingly at her. Annie didn’t speak often, but when she did, it was always reasonable. “Forgive me, but the tree in front of the Town Hall was over twenty feet tall. I can hardly believe that the U-pick can provide us with a tree of that size… nor should they.”

  “Nor should they?” Irenia repeated. “Annie, my dear, you can hardly be suggesting that we say no to the generous donation of a tree to support our cause?”

  “I am suggesting that exactly.” Annie smiled as she spoke. She stood up so the table could see her more clearly. She was easily the oldest member of the HAWC, and her quiet confidence had earned her a place of trust and respect. “In the current environmental crisis, it seems both wasteful and unnecessary to chop down yet another tree to fulfill an aesthetic purpose for a few weeks, when I believe we have found an alternative that would be much more environmentally friendly.”

  Irenia made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle. It made the hair on the back of Oscar’s neck rise.

  “My dear Annie,” Irenia crooned. “It’s Christmas. Surely we can all agree that environmental crises can wait until after the holiday season?” She looked around at the faces, frowning as several women looked at the table.

  Annie continued as if she had said nothing. “My daughter-in-law, Zoe, has generously offered the Lighthouse to stand in its stead.”

  The ladies perked up, several of them clapping their hands together in surprise. The Lighthouse stood sentinel on the edge of the waterfront, housing a café and a yoga studio designed and run by Annie’s daughter-in-law. It was a hub of the community, not to mention the tallest building in the town.

  “Zoe suggested that we call our celebration ‘Light up the Lighthouse’, and she’s offered free hot chocolate for the night of the lighting.” Annie nodded her head at Irenia and sat down.

  “I love it.” Belinda slapped the
table, making several women jump. “Light up the Lighthouse. It’s relevant to our community, it’s environmentally friendly and—” she hesitated.

  “And no one else is doing it,” Agnes spoke quietly. “It would be a unique event that only Heartswell was doing.”

  “Exactly!” Belinda beamed at her. “Every community in the province does a boring old tree lighting. Only Heartswell lights up an entire Lighthouse. We can have the parade wind through the town and end at the pier. Wouldn’t it be lovely?”

  The Mayor nodded thoughtfully. The ladies buzzed in excitement as Belinda smiled gratefully at Agnes who looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. She had no idea how vibrant she was. Oscar tried not to stare, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

  “Isn’t this amazing?” Irenia opened her eyes wide and nodded encouragingly at the gathering. “I had just that exact thought only last week.”

  Belinda groaned. “Of course, you did,” she muttered under her breath. Rosalee poked her in the ribs again. Irenia’s ability to switch the tide back to her own shore was legendary.

  “I was merely waiting for a chance to mention it to Zoe, but it seems she shares my creative instinct and passion for Heartswell to rise above all other communities in the province!”

  “An excellent idea, Irenia.” The Mayor patted his belly as though his work was done. “This is exactly why the Heartswell Group of … ladies… um…”

  “The Heartswell Association of Women who Care,” Irenia prompted.

  “Exactly why we need you upstanding citizens of our fair town.”

  “And Oscar Lake shall build our float for the parade, won’t you Oscar?” Irenia beamed at him. Oh. That’s why he was here.

  “I don’t think I—”

  Agnes looked at him and nodded. There was a glimmer in her eyes as if she could already see the float and the parade and the snow falling around the glowing Lighthouse on Christmas Eve. As if this too were an item on her list, and she needed him to make it real.