Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  Similar sentiments came from several of the shop owners as she continued toward her home.

  “Miss Sheffield, I can’t remember when we’ve ever been so busy!” The hot dog vender waved her over to his stall. “The usual vacationers must have invited everyone they knew to the shore this weekend. I’ll be lucky if I don’t run out of food!”

  She entered the house with a smile, and her spirits high. The entire Brannigan family arrived soon afterward, and together they put the final touches on the displays. The entire house shone, and all of Charlie’s paintings hung in the former dining hall, now dubbed The Main Gallery. Other pieces, such as Erin Grady’s weavings and Mrs. Lindeman’s stitchery, graced the walls in the foyer and the sitting room.

  Everyone gathered around the table as Rose served a freshly baked cake and hot tea. Everything was ready, and they could celebrate a little. Rose thought about the bottle of champagne in the cupboard above the refrigerator. If the Grand Opening was a success, she’d have a bigger celebration later.

  Hopefully, Charlie would want to celebrate with her.

  “Rose, this cake is delicious,” Katie said. The chocolate frosting circling her mouth was a testament to her enjoyment.

  “It certainly is,” Connor agreed. “Thank you from the bottom of my empty stomach.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Katie teased.

  “It’s the least I can do after all of you worked so hard to get the house ready. I’m not sure it would have been done in time without your help,” Rose insisted.

  “Why, that’s what families are for.” Susie wiped her mouth and continued. “I don’t know how I could have gone on after my Ned passed away if it hadn’t been for my children and other family.”

  “You’re so fortunate to have a large family. Rose and I have only each other.” Lily sighed. “How long has your husband been gone?”

  “About five years.” Susie set her fork down. “I still miss him so.”

  “So we’ve been widows for about the same amount of time. Was your husband ill?”

  Susie’s eyes filled with tears, and she bowed her head. “He was the strongest man I knew. Tall, like my Charlie, and a charmer, like Connor. He was a fisherman, he was. Went out every day and didn’t come home until he collected a good day’s haul. Because that was how he took care of us. But then the hard times came. The boat needed repairs, and we didn’t have the money for them. Without his boat, he couldn’t fish. And without the fish, he couldn’t provide for us. No matter what I said or did, he considered himself a failure. He didn’t smile, didn’t eat, didn’t talk. And then he got sick and never got better.”

  “Oh my dear Susie, how awful for you,” Lily murmured. “Too bad he didn’t talk to my husband. Arthur could have helped.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Yes, my husband was Arthur Sheffield, of the Carter and Dunham Bank in Manhattan. But he loved to come here to Wildwood in the summertime. He always said it relaxed him to come to the shore, even if he had to work at the local branch. Did you know him?”

  Rose noticed Susie’s smile become strained, and a sense of foreboding made its way to her heart.

  “I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting him,” Susie said evenly. “But I believe my husband did.”

  Rose’s unease heightened as the Brannigan children straightened and gathered around their mother in support.

  Lily seemed unaware of the undercurrent and continued on. “How fascinating! I really didn’t know much about Arthur’s business goings-on. He didn’t share it with me, and I probably wouldn’t have understood it. I miss him so. Good thing I’ve got my Rose here to help me.” She smiled up at her daughter and patted her arm.

  “Ned loved his family too, but he wanted to provide for them. When his fishing boat was damaged beyond repair, he went to the bank here in Wildwood, and when they turned him down, he went to their managers.” Susie sniffled, and Charlie took her hand and gave her a clean handkerchief. Connor and Katie stood behind her, each putting a hand on her shoulder. Seeming to gather strength from her children, she went on. “They, too, turned him down. He protested and went all the way to the bank’s offices in New York to plead with someone there. But that person wouldn’t budge. Ned never missed any payment, but they didn’t have faith in him to repay a loan. He couldn’t stand it, the thought that someone didn’t trust him to keep his word. After he got back from New York he was a different man.”

  She turned her bleak eyes at Lily. “The man at the top who turned him away was Arthur Sheffield.”

  Silence reigned. The two widows stared at each other: one in anger and sorrow, one in disbelief and shame. Charlie was torn. He hurt for his mother, who had watched her husband die needlessly. And he ached for Rose and her mother, knowing the guilt they obviously carried, despite their innocence.

  Susie rose from her seat. “I believe it’s time I made my way home,” she declared. “It’s a long walk back to Anglesea.” She swept out, her children following in her wake.

  Rose stood, wanting to plead for forgiveness, needing to atone for her father’s callousness, yet not knowing what to say. “Charlie,” was all she could manage to whisper.

  Pausing at the doorway, he turned sad eyes to her. “We’ll talk later,” was all he said before closing the big oak door behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose mentally checked her list again. The musicians had arrived and set up in one corner of the Main Gallery. The catering staff worked in the kitchen, arranging the hors d’ouvres on trays. André had outdone himself. The savory little treats gave off such an appetizing aroma Rose was tempted to eat the entire tray.

  Tonight was the Grand Opening. Her reputation and more than a few of her hard earned dollars were at stake. She’d convinced dozens of local merchants to gamble on this event along with her, and if it didn’t succeed, they would be as devastated as she.

  But would the guest of honor come? She hadn’t heard from Charlie since he and his family had left the previous day. Ever since then, she’d been waiting, terrified he would arrive and remove all his paintings, leaving her with an entire room of empty walls. His work was the main draw. What on earth would she do if he refused to let her show them? Hopefully he’d at least keep them displayed until after the Grand Opening.

  She’d started through her checklist once more when the wide front door opened. Early guests? She spun around and set her lips in a welcoming smile.

  Charlie stepped in, more handsome than ever. And judging by his appearance, he had come to host the gathering, not to take his work away. His curly blond hair was combed and his jaw freshly shaven. A whimsical red silk handkerchief peeked out from the breast pocket of his neatly pressed gray suit. The front foyer filled with his presence, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to throw herself at him.

  “You came back,” she breathed. “I was so worried…”

  He stepped aside, and her eyes opened wide. The entire Brannigan family had come with him. Susie followed Charlie in, along with Katie and Connor. Like Charlie, they weren’t dressed in their work clothes. Rose breathed easier. Susie stepped close and held both arms out.

  “Rose, dear, where is your mother? I owe you both an apology.”

  “I’m right here, Susie. And you don’t owe us anything.” Lily came up behind Rose and grasped Susie’s outstretched arms. “My family owes you more than we’ll ever be able to repay. I knew my Arthur could be a hard man, but I never knew, never dreamed, he would ruin people’s lives like that. I’m so sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for. I was wrong to take out my frustrations on you. If I had met your husband, I might have had a few words for him. But I know you and Rose had nothing to do with our family’s troubles. I couldn’t sleep last night, and it wasn’t until I got on my knees that the Good Lord told me that I needed to forgive and let go of the anger in my heart. Only then would He let me sleep.”

  Rose blinked back the tears of relief pooling in her eyes. “That i
s so generous of you, Mrs. Brannigan.”

  “Not generosity. It’s remembering the way I’ve always been taught. If I want God to forgive my sins, I need to forgive those who have wronged me and those I love.” She gave Lily’s hands another squeeze then looked around. “Now then. We’ve got a party to put on. What can we do to help?”

  ~~~~

  “Relax, Miss Sheffield. Everything will work out just fine.”

  Connor Brannigan stood before her, a champagne flute in each hand. He held one out to her, but she shook her head. She needed to be on her toes, and champagne wouldn’t help.

  The young man shrugged and set one of the glasses down. “Looks like you’re going to have a nice turnout.”

  “Perhaps. But right now most of the crowd seems to be locals and a few who vacation here. I was hoping to attract some new visitors.”

  “You seem really worried about this evening.”

  Rose sighed. “I am worried. I’ve got a lot riding on this. If it doesn’t succeed, it’ll be bad news not only for the gallery but so many other people who have taken a chance on this.”

  “It will be just fine. Look, here are some distinguished patrons now.” He gestured with his wine glass at the elderly couple coming through the door. Rose’s jaw dropped when she recognized them.

  “Uncle Rodney? Aunt Hermione?” Rose hurried over to greet them. “What a delightful surprise. Welcome to the new Sheffield Gallery.” Spying a waiter, she waved him over. “Would you like something to drink? An hors d’oeuvre?”

  “Nothing for me, dear,” her aunt answered. “We just had dinner at the loveliest little restaurant on the Boardwalk. André’s, I think it was called. Excellent food. Quaint little town. Now I know why your father liked to vacation here.” She looked around. “I see you’ve kept up the house quite well. This is a very… creative way of keeping it open.”

  There was a thinly veiled snub in the compliment, but Rose chose to ignore it. “I’m so glad you came.” Spotting Charlie, she waved him over. “I’d like you to meet our featured artist, Mr. Charles Brannigan. Mr. Brannigan is a veteran artist whose works have been displayed in Cunningham’s Studio in Soho.” She hid her smirk of satisfaction as Hermione’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. Hermione Sheffield had once been a struggling artist who’d aspired to but never quite attained the distinction of having had her works displayed in a major gallery in New York.

  The elder woman recovered quickly. “So good to meet you, Mr. Brannigan. I’m eager to review your work. I am a patron of several museums and galleries.”

  Charlie bowed politely. “I’m honored you came here tonight. Please allow me to guide you through the gallery.” He offered his elbow, and Aunt Hermione took it, tittering like a young girl. Uncle Rodney followed, shaking his head.

  Rose would have liked to follow them to see what her relatives thought of the gallery, but the foyer suddenly filled. Women draped in fur stoles and diamond necklaces arrived, escorted by gentlemen with jewel-encrusted walking sticks. Rose didn’t have time to worry about anything except greeting guests, making sure their glasses remained full, and thanking them for coming. At one point, she’d wondered how her mother fared with all the strangers in the house, but a glance into the sitting room eased her fears. Lily held court, her eyes gleaming as she once again acted her part as hostess of the manor.

  The musicians were extremely well received, and their box in a discreet corner overflowed with donations. Between numbers, their lead violinist kept busy jotting down telephone numbers and booking information. He’d come prepared with business cards and seemed quite happy at the opportunity to hand them out.

  Rose noticed several of the oil paintings as well as other items sported Sold signs. It seemed the evening was a great success, but she couldn’t help wondering, What does Charlie think of this?

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, he appeared at her side. “Rose, you look like you need a break. Why don’t we step outside for a few moments? Your mother and my family can take care of things here.”

  Looking around, she realized it was true. Still, she hated to leave the party.

  “We won’t go far. Just to the Boardwalk and back. You need some fresh air.”

  She nodded and grabbed a shawl from the front closet. The ocean breezes could be chilly after dark, even in the summer months.

  They stepped outside, and as soon as she breathed in the salty air, she knew Charlie had been right. Her worries diminished and she relaxed.

  “I wanted to be sure and tell you how much I admire the work you’ve done. Not just for me, but for the whole community. I can’t remember when I’ve seen the Boardwalk so busy.”

  Rose hadn’t noticed before, but she did now. Though dusk had fallen, the Boardwalk was crowded with couples and families. Not just locals, but hundreds of visitors crammed into the shops and stopped at the food stalls. Women in designer clothing laughed and chatted with the merchants, street musicians, jugglers, and mimes. It was like a carnival as far as she could see.

  “Word really got around about your Grand Opening and all the people who were invited. I know you’ve been busy taking care of all the details as far as the gallery, but I wanted you to see just how far reaching your idea was and how many people it helped. André came into the gallery to find me and ask when the next event was going to be because he wanted to be ready. He’s got to hire and train additional staff to take care of all the vacationers who have arrived.”

  Rose was speechless. She’d simply wanted to tell the world about the Sheffield Gallery, and had done it in the biggest way she could think of. The gamble had paid off in dividends larger than she’d dared to dream of. Her heart overflowed, and she reached up and threw her arms around Charlie.

  “Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you so much for trusting me!”

  Charlie lifted her in the air and twirled around. “Thank you. You’re the one who had the vision and the drive to make it happen. I know a lot of people who are going to be thanking you for the rest of the summer.”

  Suddenly, the hug changed, heating up until it was no longer a hug of thanks. As he set her down her eyes searched his with questions. Finding the answers she sought, she closed her eyes as his head bent closer to hers. The first touch of his lips was gentle, a caress, like little butterfly kisses all around her mouth. And then his embrace tightened, and he deepened the kiss. She reached up, gathering his hair in her fists, and gave as much as she got, wanting to get closer, wanting more.

  “Charlie, where did you run off to? I can’t find Rose either — oh, sorry.”

  Connor’s voice ended the fantasy and Charlie’s arms dropped, leaving her chilled.

  “I guess we’re being summoned.”

  Did she dare hope the gruffness in his voice reflected sadness at ending the kiss? She nodded, and they both walked slowly back toward the house.

  Connor stood at the front door, an odd expression on his handsome face. “Sorry about the interruption, big brother, but a patron wanted to speak to you. I’ll go and find her while you, er, straighten yourselves up.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Rose stole a glance at Charlie and gasped. His hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared all over his cheeks. His collar had been pulled out from his jacket and rumpled beyond repair. Quickly, they helped each other get presentable and returned to their guests.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie took one last look at himself in the mirror before packing up the basket on his bicycle. If his paintings kept selling like they had since the Grand Opening, he’d be able to buy a car soon. He’d already quit his job delivering newspapers. The buzz from the Grand Opening had stirred up so much interest in his work he needed to paint every day, almost all day. He’d even taken some of his supplies over to the gallery — to the Sheffield home — so that he could sketch and do the preliminary color studies while at the shore. The shops along the Boardwalk seemed to be a popular subject among the people who bought his paintings. That and the beach
.

  In his coat pocket was a letter that had arrived the previous day. Written in an elegant hand on vellum, the letter was from a former patron who had recently opened a new gallery on Manhattan. He still had trouble believing his luck. The words were burned on his memory:

  My dear Charles,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I have always regretted having to close down my gallery in Soho, leaving you to your own devices. You were such a promising artist, and your paintings were popular among my customers. I was thrilled to find you at the little gallery opening in Wildwood. But I know you are capable of so much more.

  I have recently joined forces with David Thurston to open Thurston-Perry Galleries in Manhattan, and we are confident that we can make it a success now that the economy is improving. We will celebrate this joint venture with a Grand Opening in October. I would love to feature some of your best works and invite you to come to Manhattan to discuss this with me. I would be pleased to have you as a guest at my home while you are in the City.

  The note continued with details about the Grand Opening and was signed by Regina Perry. She had been one of his staunchest supporters. She’d called him a Wunderkind, but he never expected her to seek him out so many years after closing her gallery.

  What an exciting opportunity. He couldn’t wait to share it with Rose. She needed to be a part of it because she was the reason for his success. His Lady Luck. And she needed to come along to the gallery opening so that he could continue to succeed and have bigger and bigger successes. He had to convince her to go to New York with him, at least for this event.