“Victoria had four kids?” He chuckled at the thought. “I remember her once telling me she wanted a large family. I’m glad she got what she wanted.” There was a touch of sadness in his voice.
“Ken’s twenty-four and a police officer with the Boston P.D. Brad’s twenty-two and just graduated with a degree in criminal justice. He followed in Ken’s footsteps last month.”
“And your sister?”
“Miranda’s twenty-one and the spoiled baby of the family. She has one more year of college and then she’s determined to go to law school.”
“They’re all in law enforcement?” Gordon seemed intrigued by the idea.
“Dad, I mean my stepfather, was a detective for the Boston Police Department.” For twenty-four years she had called Ken Carlyle Dad. Was she really supposed to be calling him stepfather now? And what was she supposed to call Gordon Hanley? She couldn’t bring herself to call him Dad, and “Mr. Hanley” sounded asinine considering the situation. “Gordon” had the best ring to it, but so far she had avoided calling him anything.
“What do you do?”
“I’ve always been the oddball of the family. I’m an elementary school teacher. I teach third grade at a school right outside the Boston city limits.” No wonder she’d never felt the slightest desire to follow in her father’s footsteps like the rest of the kids. Ken Carlyle hadn’t been her father.
“You’re not odd.” Gordon seemed insulted by the very idea.
“No, I guess I’m not.” She had to smile at it now. “I did follow in my father’s footsteps after all. Mom told me you were teaching English lit when you two met.” Her mother really told her that she had been one of Professor Hanley’s students.
Gordon cringed. “It wasn’t as bad as that sounds. I was only twenty-nine, and your mother wasn’t some nineteen-year-old freshman. She was twenty-six, intelligent, and a beautiful woman.”
“I also understand that she did most of the chasing.” Her mother hadn’t portrayed Gordon as a seducer of young, naive coeds. “The story I heard was that you gave her quite a chase.”
“It only appeared that way.” Gordon shrugged. “I didn’t run that hard or that fast. Victoria Knox stole my breath the first day in class. I knew I was in trouble. I knew it was wrong.”
“What happened?” She knew what her mother had told her, but she wanted to hear Gordon’s side.
“By Christmas we were having a secret affair. I would have lost my teaching job and messed up my career if the school had found out. Victoria said she didn’t mind, but I knew she did. I hated the sneaking around. By May the school year was drawing to a close, and I broke off the relationship. Victoria was going home for the summer and I was heading to England. I thought it would be for the best. Time and distance would take care of the rest.”
“Did it?” She knew her mother had loved Ken Carlyle and their marriage had been a happy one. But there had been something special in the way her mother had talked about Gordon Hanley.
“In August, when I returned to teach I discovered Victoria hadn’t returned for her senior year. I made some inquiries and discovered she had gotten married during the summer.”
Juliet was the one to cringe now. “Ouch.” She knew why her mother had married Ken in July of that summer. She had been born on December 11. “That must have hurt.”
“I figured our relationship hadn’t really meant that much to Victoria.”
“Why did you leave teaching?” Juliet loved teaching, and from what her mother told her, so had her father.
Gordon shrugged. “I was born and raised in a town near here, East Sullivan. The coast was in my blood, and I was ready to return.” Gordon took a long drink of his soda. “During spring break I discovered this shop was going up for sale. By June my name was on the deed.”
There was a lot left unspoken. She knew it, and he knew it. What right did she have to poke into her father’s private business? “Why give up teaching? I’m sure there must have been a school somewhere in the area that could have used your experience, your love of Shakespeare.”
“You know about my obsession with the Bard?”
“My mother named me Juliet.” She raised a brow and bit her lip to keep from smiling. When she had been younger, she had taken quite a bit of ribbing on the name. “Romeo, Romeo” had been shouted frequently within her hearing. By today’s standards, Juliet was a very normal name. In the three years she had been teaching she had seen and heard kids named after just about every state, mythical god, and constellation that dotted the universe.
“Juliet is a beautiful name.”
“My sister is named Miranda, from the Tempest. Thankfully, Dad got to name the boys, or they would have ended up with names like Hamlet or Othello.”
Gordon chuckled. “Victoria always did love Shakespeare.”
“She still does. Mom volunteers a lot of her time directing at a theater for underprivileged and troubled teens. Most of her time is usually spent fund-raising, though. And she’s not above getting the rest of the family involved when she’s shorthanded. I spent many of my weekends painting scenery. Miranda’s a great seamstress when push comes to shove, and Brad can usually get the lights working for an entire performance. Ken and a couple of fellow cops keep the stage from collapsing around their heads. It’s an old theater in a not very desirable part of town. Though the city enforces the building codes, it doesn’t see fit to help pay for any of the costs.”
“Sounds wonderful and challenging.” There was a glow in Gordon’s pale hazel eyes.
“You sound like my mother.” Her mother got that same glow in her eyes when she talked about the theater.
Before Gordon could reply, two women walked into the shop. Gordon glanced at the customers and muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.
“Gordon,” called the heavyset woman, “I’m here to pick up Roy’s order.”
Gordon gave Juliet an apologetic look. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time. I’m fine.” Juliet smiled pleasantly at the woman. The other customer was lost from sight.
He went out to the front part of the shop, where Priscilla Patterson stood waiting. “Good afternoon, Priscilla.” He spotted the bird-like figure hiding behind Priscilla’s bulk. “Norma.” The two women, though totally opposite in appearances, went everywhere together. He once referred to them as mismatched bookends.
“Did we interrupt something?” Priscilla was staring at Juliet and the tray of snacks.
Gordon rolled his eyes and winked at his daughter. This was going to get sticky. “Priscilla and Norma, I would like you to meet Juliet Carlyle.” How was he supposed to introduce his daughter. “Juliet’s the daughter of an old acquaintance of mine.” It was the truth.
Juliet stood up and smiled. “Hello.”
He hurried over to the wall humidor and found Roy Patterson’s standard weekly order: a small tin of McClelland Arcadia and pouch of Sir Walter Raleigh Aromatic. Roy was one of the locals who had convinced him to keep the tobacco part of the shop open. Roy couldn’t play chess worth a damn, but he appreciated fine tobacco.
“What brings you to Misty Harbor, Juliet?” Priscilla couldn’t care less about her husband’s tobacco. She wasn’t known to be the town’s biggest gossip for nothing.
“I’ve never been to Maine, and I heard this area was lovely.”
“Are you just visiting, or do you plan on staying?”
“Just a short visit.”
“Here’s the order, Priscilla. Is there anything else I can get you?” He wanted Priscilla and Norma gone. He wanted to spend the day getting to know his daughter. Too late he realized he should have put the CLOSED sign up on the door of the shop. He headed for the cash register, hopefully to ring up Roy’s order. Priscilla never lingered in his store because he never had anything new or interesting to tell her.
“Roy’s birthday is coming up,” Priscilla said as she glanced around the shop. “I’ve been thinki
ng about buying him a new pipe, but I don’t know which one he would like.”
He froze and slowly turned to Priscilla. More than twenty-five years he had been running this shop, and never once had Priscilla taken any interest in Roy’s tobacco choices or pipes. “Roy usually picks out his own pipes.”
“I know, but I wanted to surprise him this year.” Priscilla’s gaze wasn’t on the pipe display case. It was darting back and forth between him and Juliet, measuring and studying.
Norma’s hungry gaze was locked on the cookies.
It took him an hour, all the cookies, and a trip upstairs for more soda and crackers, but he finally got Priscilla and Norma out of the shop. He also ended up selling Priscilla the top-of-the-line Peterson pipe that was going to make Roy one happy fellow.
He turned to Juliet, who was browsing the bookshelves. “Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. They were customers.”
“They were on a fact-finding mission.” He couldn’t believe the questions Priscilla and Norma had asked Juliet. Priscilla was smart enough to suspect something, but Norma had been more interested in the crackers. Juliet had been taking it all in stride, but he had put his foot down when Priscilla tried arranging a date between her nephew Gregory and Gordon’s daughter.
“Can I ask you a question?” Juliet frowned at the shelf before her.
“Sure.”
“Why do you stock your books by color, instead of by title or author’s name?” Juliet’s fingers ran over a row of red spines. “Doesn’t it make it difficult for the customers to find what they are looking for?”
“There are two types of book buyers. There are ones who know exactly what they are looking for. I know where every book is stocked, so I can find it for them.” Gordon looked around the shop and grinned. “Then there are the buyers who have no idea what they want. So they browse the shelves, and usually something interesting catches their eye that they never thought of reading before.”
“People don’t mind?” She shook her head at large overflowing shelves of black books.
“Tourists come in for two kinds of books: the latest bestseller, or books on Maine. The locals are used to my system and have adjusted fine. I have quite a few regulars who are working their way through the colors.”
Juliet laughed and shook her head. “I must admit, it’s different.”
“Thank you.” He took that as a compliment. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”
“A couple days, maybe a week.” His daughter looked uncertain. “If you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Of course I don’t mind.” His heart would have been crushed if she had turned around and driven out of his life so soon after entering it. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“Not yet. I wasn’t sure what I would find, so I didn’t make any hotel reservations.” Juliet relaxed a bit. “I did pass a Motor Inn on the way into town.”
He made a rude sound. “You can’t stay there. I can call a local bed-and-breakfast to see if they have a room, or you can stay here with me. I actually have a very small guest room upstairs in my apartment. My brother and his wife make use of it whenever they come to visit. The choice is up to you.” How desperate did that sound, offering his daughter the guest room?
“The bed-and-breakfast sounds nice.”
He tried not to let his feelings show. After all, he was a complete stranger to her. He headed for the phone. “I’ll give Olivia a call and see if she has room.” Olivia Wycliffe was due any day now, but he knew she had someone helping her with the bed and breakfast she owned.
Two minutes later, Juliet had a room, and the bill was coming to him.
“Now it’s only a couple streets away from here.” He drew a quick map on a piece of scrap paper. “You can’t miss it.”
“I’m sure I can find it.” Juliet took the map and turned to the front door. “You really don’t have to take me out to dinner. I’m sure you have something better to do with your time.”
“There is nothing on this earth that would give me greater joy than taking you to dinner tonight.” Hell, he didn’t even want her to leave the shop. He was scared to death she would disappear from his life for another twenty-six years. At fifty-six years old, he wasn’t sure if he had another twenty-six years left in him. “I’ll pick you up a little before seven. The Catch of the Day is the best restaurant in town.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Juliet gave him a sweet smile and walked out the door.
Chapter Five
Matt had a feeling that the family cookout would head in this direction, and he would be powerless to stop it. At least his father and brothers looked as helpless as he felt. The women were sitting at one picnic table discussing Ned and Norah’s upcoming wedding, while the men were supposed to be watching the kids and getting dinner on the table.
It was easier said than done.
Three-month-old Amanda was screaming her head off, and if the aroma coming from that direction was any indication, he didn’t envy his brother Paul’s job. His father was manning the grill while Ned and Norah’s new stepfather, Karl James, were in the kitchen getting things together. He and John were supposed to be watching the older kids as they ran around the backyard.
Herding kittens would have been easier.
Tyler and Austin had joined forces with three-year-old Morgan and Hunter. Between chasing chipmunks under the shrubs, trying to ride Ned’s big black Newfoundland, Flipper, or teasing Zsa Zsa, the Pomeranian with an attitude, it was impossible to keep track of them all. Three-year-old Morgan had been trying to get the pink bow out of the tiny dog’s hair. Zsa Zsa wanted no part of Morgan and her sticky fingers. The four-pound Pomeranian had big brown eyes only for the 150-pound Newfoundland.
“Morgan, get away from Zsa Zsa before she snaps at you,” called John, who was dragging Tyler out from under a bush. “Your mother said not to get dirty.” John shook his head at his son. The entire front of Tyler was coated in dirt and dust. A twig was sticking out of his hair and half a back pocket on his shorts was hanging by a thread.
It was a typical Porter barbecue, only this time, he had two invited guests, and with Ned’s future in-laws there, his father had to set up a folding table to handle the overflow. Sierra and Austin blended right in with the rowdy crowd. In fact, since they’d arrived, he hadn’t been able to talk to his own date. He couldn’t kid himself any longer—this was a date.
He was dating a tourist and her son. No wonder his brothers were looking at him with sympathy in their eyes. Everyone knew August was “heartbreak month” in Misty Harbor. The way things were going, his heart was going to at least get stepped on, if not crushed. Sierra was becoming very important to him, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. He watched as Sierra and Norah bent their heads over a pad of paper. Night and day. Norah had short, red, spiky hair and about twenty earrings glittering in her ears. Sierra’s long blond hair was let down tonight in a classic style.
He knew the women were talking about Ned and Norah’s upcoming wedding, but he didn’t understand what all the jabbering was about. How difficult could it be to plan a wedding? The way the women were going on, someone would think the queen of England and the president were going to be invited.
“Hey, Matt, grab Austin before he hurts himself,” called his father.
He glanced over to where he’d last seen Austin and felt his heart plummet to his knees. Austin was hanging upside down from a tree limb. He sprinted across the yard and grabbed the little monkey. “Hey, how did you get up there?” Austin hadn’t been too far off the ground, but someone had to help him reach the low limb.
Austin grinned but remained mute. Tyler and Hunter looked guilty.
He glanced over at Sierra to see if she’d noticed Austin’s Tarzan imitation. She had one finely arched golden brow raised and she gave him a look that made him extremely thankful that nothing had harmed her son. He grimaced but smiled back.
Austin waved to his mother. “Mom, did you see me?” he shouted
.
“Sure did, sweetie,” she said before turning her attention to Matt. Sierra gave him another long look and then winked.
“We’re hungry, Uncle Matt,” complained Tyler.
“What else is new?” Matt wondered if the wink meant he was forgiven. “Let’s go see what’s holding up the food.” Surely once the food was brought out the women would cease their planning and he would be able to talk to his date. He headed for the house with Austin on his shoulders and Hunter and Tyler bringing up the rear. His brother John was busy chasing his daughter, Morgan, who was running after Zsa Zsa with an evil look upon her face and a butterfly net clutched in her fist.
The first thing he noticed as he entered the house was the smell. By his brother Paul’s “goo-gooing” and “gaa-gaaing” he could tell that baby Amanda was being changed in the other room. His niece wasn’t the cause of the stench. “What reeks?”
His brother Ned was standing in front of the open oven door and wearing huge red lobster pot holders. He was holding a casserole dish. “Mom’s beans.”
All he could see was a thick layer of ash that was slowly bubbling. “What did you do to them?” His mother’s baked beans were horrible, but they usually didn’t resemble the city of Pompeii.
“I didn’t do anything to them,” Ned said as he placed the dish onto the counter. “Mom set the timer, and I was supposed to take them out when it went off.”
Karl James tugged at his beard, trying to hide his grin from the boys, who were staring at the dish in complete fascination. “Joanna gave your mom her recipe for them.”
“Do your wife’s baked beans look like this?” Ned picked up a fork and poked one of the bubbles. A small cloud of ash billowed into the air.
Karl took the fork from Ned’s hand and poked at another globule of air. Another small explosion of ash rose above the casserole dish. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything like this.”
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