“I’m impressed.”
She turned off the copier and stared at him. Was he just jerking her chain, or was he serious? “Really?”
Paul nodded. “Seeking legal advice. That’s a good move, Abby.”
She gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
He sat down in his desk chair and let out a long sigh.
She studied him more closely now. “Are you feeling okay?”
He nodded, but there seemed to be a shadow over him.
“Paul?” She sat in the chair across from his desk. “Is something wrong?”
“No … no.” He slowly shook his head. “Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just business. You know, too much real estate sitting around … winter coming. You know the drill, Abby. We’ve been down this road a few times.”
“Oh.” She did know this road. It could be bumpy when the economy was down, but she had hoped they were beyond that. She also knew that the market hadn’t picked up as much as they had expected it would by now.
“Nothing to worry about,” he assured her.
“You’re right,” she said in a confident tone. “We’ve weathered far worse than this, haven’t we? Remember the eighties?”
He nodded. “Yeah, three little kids, not much work. We were barely scraping by then.”
“But we made it.” She waved her hand toward the big window that looked out over the ocean. “And who would’ve guessed we’d ever live in a place like this?”
His lips curved into a weary smile. “Yeah. Go figure.”
“Really, is that all that’s troubling you?” She studied him closely, worried that perhaps this was something more, something related to a certain businesswoman in town.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, of course. But I just want you to be honest with me, Paul. If something else is going on, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”
“Are you obsessing over Bonnie again?”
She shrugged, then looked out over the ocean. A low fog bank was rolling in.
“Well, don’t waste your time on it, Abby. I promise you there’s nothing there.”
For some reason she believed him.
“I think I’m just tired.” He chuckled. “Plus I had a lousy golf game this morning. Gary whupped me big time.”
She laughed now. “Well, that’s probably bothering you more than anything else.”
He nodded with a sheepish grin.
“How about if I fix you some lunch before I go run some errands?”
He smiled hopefully. “That’d be nice.”
Abby felt unexpectedly happy as she made him a turkey sandwich. She took her time putting it together just the way he liked it and even made a quick potato salad out of last night’s red potatoes, then took it in to him with a linen napkin and a tall glass of lemonade.
“Thanks, Abby. You’re the best.”
Not used to this kind of praise, she tried not to look too surprised. “Well, thank you.” She set his lunch on his desk, then leaned over to peer more closely into his eyes. “You really are feeling okay, aren’t you?”
“Just tired.”
She frowned. “Caroline has been nagging me to go in for a complete physical, and I’m thinking maybe I should schedule appointments for both of us.”
He let out a reluctant groan as he reached for the sandwich. “You know how I hate going to the doc, Abby. I’m way more fit than most guys my age. You go ahead and schedule something for yourself if you want.”
“But you haven’t been in for ages.”
“I’ll make an appointment later this fall,” he said with his mouth full. “When things aren’t too busy.”
She wanted to challenge him, remind him that maybe things weren’t too busy right now, but that might sound like she was coming down on him. He was being so sweet today … well, she decided to just let it go. She could always schedule him an appointment anyway.
She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “I’m running over to Janie’s with this paperwork. Then I might check on Caroline. She’s pretty much in a lockdown these days.”
“Lockdown?” He forked into the potato salad.
Abby explained about how Caroline’s mom needed round-the-clock care and supervision.
He shook his head. “That’s gotta be hard.”
“Anyway, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’ve got some steaks for dinner, but since you’re having a late lunch, maybe we can eat a late dinner, too.”
“No complaints from me.”
Abby still felt caught off guard as she got her bag and headed back out to her car. Though Paul was being strangely congenial, she believed him when he’d promised his mood had nothing to do with Bonnie. As she drove toward town, she realized his attitude might’ve had as much to do with Abby as with him. Maybe it was because she was being nicer to him. In fact, that’s exactly what their counselor had recommended.
“Remember how you treated each other when you were courting?” she’d said last week.
Paul had laughed. “Courting?”
Abby had tried to conceal her aggravation. “You see, we dated in high school and got married right after graduation. Courtship isn’t exactly how I’d describe it.”
“Well, maybe that’s part of your problem. You both still rely on some old habits—I’m guessing they’re habits you picked up in adolescence. I’m just suggesting that you take a more grown-up approach. Practice a bit more respect and civility toward each other. Mind your manners as if you were courting. Does that make sense?”
At the time it hadn’t made sense, but Abby thought maybe she was getting it now. She and Paul did have some immature habits. They were too quick to speak their minds to each other, which sometimes resulted in blowout fights where they both lost. So maybe their counselor was right. Maybe they did need to act like they were courting. Abby thought maybe she’d open a bottle of wine and light some candles for dinner, show Paul that she still thought he was special.
When Abby got to Janie’s she thought the silvery sports car in front of the house was her friend’s, but as she was walking toward the house, she realized that Janie’s silver Mercedes was parked over to the far side of the garage. On closer inspection, she saw that the car in front was a late-model Jaguar.
Abby considered turning around and getting back into her car, but then she heard the front door opening. As irrational as it seemed, Abby had the distinct and uncomfortable suspicion that the Jaguar belonged to Bonnie Boxwell and that she was about to meet this woman face-to-face. She hoped she was simply being dramatic and imagining things. Abby had seen Bonnie a couple of times from a distance, but they’d never officially met.
“Abby,” Janie said in a voice that sounded a little tight around the edges.
“I brought the paperwork by,” Abby said in a voice even more tightly wound.
“Abby, I’d like you to meet Bonnie Boxwell,” Janie said in a way that Abby suspected she hoped sounded totally innocent, although Abby knew better. “Bonnie, this is my dear friend Abby Franklin.”
Bonnie stuck out her hand, but Abby pretended not to see it. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said directly to Janie. “But here’s the paperwork I promised you.” She shoved it toward Janie.
“Abby Franklin?” Bonnie sounded curious. “I think I may know your husband.”
Abby’s mouth dried up.
“Abby’s husband is Paul Franklin,” Janie offered. “He’s the developer of North Shore and—”
“Of course,” Bonnie said. “I have a lot there, and I spoke to Paul about building a house.” She smiled at Abby as if she thought Abby was totally in the dark in
regard to Bonnie’s relationship with Paul. “Small world.”
Abby nodded stiffly. “And Clifden is an even smaller town.”
“Bonnie opened up that design shop,” Janie continued, “Bridgeport Interiors. I think I mentioned it to you.”
Abby just nodded, trying not to obsess over how irritatingly pretty and young Bonnie was, even better-looking up close than from a distance.
“Abby’s the one who helped me start the renovations here,” Janie prattled on, having a conversation of one. “She knows where to get almost everything and who to call and all that.”
“I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from your husband.” Bonnie smiled.
“Yes. I used to help him with decor choices on all the new spec houses,” Abby told her in a voice that sounded much too cheerful. “We had such fun. Then he began building custom homes, and most homeowners hired professional decorators.”
“I’ve been trying to talk him into working out a deal with me,” Bonnie said. “I could handle the interior designs and—”
“I think Paul has everything under control,” Abby said in a frosty voice.
Bonnie laughed. “Yes, so it seems.”
“Abby,” Janie said suddenly, grabbing her arm as if worried that Abby was about to go for the jugular, which was strangely tempting. “You have to come inside and see the glass tile. Bonnie just brought it over, and Mario is going to start installing it. It’s just beautiful and—”
“And I must be going,” Bonnie said. “Nice to meet you, Abby. Give my regards to Paul.”
“Oh, I will,” Abby snapped as Janie tugged her into the house, closing the door before Abby had a chance to say something really mean and nasty. Not that she wanted to be mean and nasty, especially when she’d already been having such a great day. But hearing that woman saying to give Paul her regards was just too much.
“I’m sorry, Abby,” Janie said. “She just popped in with the tile, and I was trying to hurry her out in fear that your paths would cross, but she just kept sticking around.”
“Like she wants to be your new best friend?” Abby said sarcastically.
“I don’t think she has many friends.”
“Well, she better not start taking mine,” Abby snarled. When she saw Janie’s expression, she regretted her reaction. “I’m sorry, Janie. But that woman really gets my dander up.”
“Gets your dander up?” Janie laughed. “That’s an old one.”
Abby looked at Janie’s rearranged living room. “So this is the work of Ms. Boxwell?”
Janie nodded. “You have to admit she improved it.”
“I guess.” Abby looked at the seascape now. “Is that Marley’s?”
“Yes, isn’t it beautiful?”
Abby went closer. “It really is. I can’t believe how quickly she finished it. I saw it just a few days ago and it wasn’t even close.”
“She said she painted it in anger.”
Abby kind of laughed. “Maybe I should take up painting too—especially if I plan to run into that woman again.”
Janie linked arms with Abby, leading her into the kitchen. “No, you just need to let that all go. Really, I think it’s for the best that you actually met her today. Now if you happen to run into her—”
“Run over her is more like it.”
Janie released Abby’s arm and shook her finger. “If you happen to run into her, you can act more natural and cordial.”
“If that’s even possible.”
“You know, Abby, if you seriously want to become a businesswoman—a successful businesswoman—you will have to learn to control that tongue of yours.”
Abby frowned. “Yes, you’re probably right.”
“Of course, I’m right. And you’ll have to develop thicker skin, too.”
Abby sighed. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
“Or maybe I am,” Abby countered. “Maybe Bonnie is just my boot camp.”
“Bonnie boot camp.” Janie laughed. “Now that’s a good attitude to have.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”
“Precisely.” Janie picked up a piece of aquamarine tile and held it up to the light. “What do you think?”
“Very nice.” Abby nodded. “It looks great with those dark cabinets. Very classy.”
“Come see the bathroom,” Janie urged.
Soon they were lost in talking about tile and various types of design and the kinds of renovations that would improve the B and B if all went well and they became business partners. By the time Abby left Janie’s house, she had almost successfully blocked the image of Bonnie Boxwell from her mind—until she remembered Bonnie’s arrogant suggestion that she might become Paul’s new interior designer for his spec houses. Over Abby’s dead body she would!
Chapter 16
Marley
Marley’s XM Radio was tuned to a classic rock station and playing loudly—her attempt to manufacture anger to paint by—and right now it was working. As the Stones grinded out “Get Off of My Cloud,” Marley’s brush and palette knife were flying. She grabbed up color with abandon, swiping it across the canvas in large movements, slashes of gold and coral over a background of intense blue. But something was distracting her. Realizing that the phone was ringing, she dropped her brush, grabbed the remote and muted the radio, then reached for the phone.
“I was about to give up on you,” Janie said. “Did I interrupt anything important?”
“Just the mad painter at work.” Marley looked at the clock to see that it was getting close to quitting time anyway.
“How’s it going?”
Marley studied the colorful image on her canvas. Inspired by a postcard sent from Ashton while on vacation in the Bahamas last year, it was an impressionistic scene of an island fruit stand and a woman wearing a flowered dress and big yellow hat. “Not bad,” Marley said. “I think.”
“Well, Victor stopped by my house,” Janie explained. “He’s been admiring your work, and we’re wondering about commissioning you for a couple of small pieces for his boat.”
“Really?” Marley set down her brush, feeling her anger melting away.
“Yes. Something nautical and fun. Does that seem doable?”
“Sure. Although, I’ve never really done commissioned work. I guess there’s always the concern that the customer might not like it.”
“I think Victor’s confident you can pull it off.”
“And I might be able to put it in the One-Legged Seagull if Victor changed his mind.”
“I doubt that’ll be the case.”
“Then, sure, I’m interested.”
“We’re heading over to the boat now,” Janie said. “I want to measure some things, and then Victor wants to take it out. Any chance you’d like to join us? I told Victor that you’d been hinting.”
Marley laughed. “You told him that?”
“Well, it’s true.”
Marley dropped her dirty brushes into a jar of water. “I would love to see the boat. How soon are you going out?”
“In about an hour. We’ll probably only stay out an hour, just long enough for sunset. Let’s meet at the dock a little before six. I plan to grab us something to munch on while we’re out.”
“Cool. I’ll clean up and head over.”
As Marley drove to town, she wondered how many more delicious Indian summer days they would enjoy before winter came. Having grown up on the coast, she knew that summerlike days could pop up in January, too. Maybe coastal weather was a good metaphor for life: Snatch the sunny days when you can, because tomorrow might be wet and windy.
She parked near the wharf, getting out her hat and windbreaker as well as a bag that she’d filled with some cra
ckers and cheese, and a bottle of good zinfandel for Victor’s boat. She would’ve brought champagne if she’d had any handy, but hopefully Victor wouldn’t want to smash this one onto the stern of his boat.
As she approached the dock, she spotted Janie walking just ahead with a grocery bag in hand. Marley called out, then jogged up and joined her. “This is so great,” she told Janie. “What a perfect evening for a nice little sailing trip. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Victor said she’s all set to go too. He’s been out already today.”
“Where is he?”
“Picking up Jack.”
Marley stopped walking. “Picking up Jack? You mean my Jack? I mean, not my Jack. But you mean Jack-from-the-One-Legged-Seagull Jack?”
Janie laughed. “Yes, that would be the correct Jack. Is that a problem?”
Marley felt puzzled. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is Victor picking up Jack?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention that we were in the gallery earlier today? Victor was admiring your work, although the pieces there were too large for his boat. Anyway we got to talking with Jack, and Victor invited him to come out and sail with us this evening.”
“Oh.”
“Seriously, Marley, is this a problem?” Janie peered curiously at her. “I actually thought I mentioned this when I spoke to you.”
“No. You didn’t.”
“Is something wrong between you and Jack?”
“That’s just it,” Marley explained as they continued walking out onto the dock. “There isn’t anything between me and Jack. We’re business acquaintances. That’s all. No one should go around assuming we’re anything more than that.”
Janie chuckled. “Who’s assuming anything? Victor just happens to like Jack, and Jack just happens to like sailboats. Jack probably doesn’t even know you’re coming sailing either. You guys will be in the same boat.” Janie grinned at her pun.
Marley rolled her eyes. “Great. But now Jack will probably think that I set this whole thing up.”
Hometown Ties Page 15