by Doreen Alsen
Tim was nursing a beer and flipping channels looking for the Red Sox game when he heard a clamor of voices outside Angelique’s house. Thinking it had to be her, he ran to his kitchen door, poked his head out, and looked both ways for paparazzi. Seeing none, he slipped out and over to Angelique’s back porch.
He shaded his eyes as he peered in the sliding glass door, hoping to get her attention. If God loved him at all, Angelique would let him in.
Imagine his surprise when Birdie McCorkle slid open the door. “And what is it you’re wanting?”
“I thought you were Angelique.”
Birdie snorted, the sound inelegant. “Obviously. So sorry to disappoint you.”
“How is she?”
“Come on in,” Birdie said. “We don’t want the vultures to catch wind of me talking to you.”
He stepped through the door. Birdie shut it, locked it, and pulled the drapes across the glass. “Where’s Angelique?”
“Impatient, are you?” She shook her head. “I’m not after telling you.”
What the hell? “I’ve got to talk to her, Birdie. I’ve got to make her understand.”
“I’m sure you do, but she’s in a bad spot, some of it due to you, and unless she wants you to know where she is, I’m not going to tell you.”
“Son of a bitch!” He kicked a nearby chair.
“Now, there’ll be none of that.”
He growled at her.
She chuckled. “I’m not scared of the likes of you, lad. I’ve always liked you, and sure as the sun rises, you’re one of Lobster Cove’s own.”
“Fat lot of good that’s done me.”
“’Tis true, you’ve had a rough time, none of it deserved. We’re behind you, but right now Angelique needs us more. When she’s ready, she’ll get in touch with you.”
“So I’m just supposed to wait.”
Birdie smiled, but it was clear to Tim that her heart wasn’t in it. “That’s the long and short of it.”
“Where is she now? Some place safe?”
“Aye, she’s tucked away in a place tighter than a vault.”
Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Only middle school girls did that. “As long as she’s safe. Can you give her a message for me?”
“You know I will.”
He swallowed. Here he was, baring his soul to Birdie McCorkle, of all people. “Tell her I love her and I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Birdie sniffed. “For whatever it’s worth, me boyo, I’m as sure as I can be that she’s in love with you, too. Wait for her. She’s worth it.”
Tim hung his head. “I know she is. I only wish I could be the man she deserves.”
Birdie touched his shoulder. “I think you already are, Timothy. With God’s good grace, you’ll find your way back to each other.” She sighed, her shoulders rising up to her ears like they were earrings. “I only had Mr. McCorkle for a short time in my life, but he was it, the only man for me. Now, it’s not that another may not catch my eye these days, as I’m not dead, but I’ll only give my heart and soul to Ian McCorkle.” She made the sign of the cross. “May he rest in peace.” She gave Tim the hairy eyeball. “He treated me like I was a queen made of spun sugar. Now you do the same with Angelique.”
Tim swallowed. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
“Be sure that you do.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Tim was in the middle of slapping a ham and cheese sandwich together when his phone erupted in his pocket. Angelique!
He fumbled with the phone. “Angelique! Where are you?”
“I’m at Birdie McCorkle’s house.” Her voice sounded thin.
His heart went zing! “I’ll be right over.”
“No! You can’t.”
“What? Why not? We need to talk.” This made no sense.
“Yes, we do, but I can’t risk being seen with you.”
Huh? “I need to see you. To talk face to face and see for myself that you’re all right.”
“That’s not going to happen.” She sighed. “Have you seen People magazine?”
“Of course not. I don’t pay any attention to that kind of stuff. What’s that got to do with my seeing you?”
“The paparazzi have found you, and by extension, me. They’ve been taking pictures of you here, on the beach in Lobster Cove.”
“Son of a bitch.” A feeling of being watched settled over him.
“In some of the pictures you’re with a mystery woman.” She cleared her throat. “Me. If we’re seen together, it’s only a matter of time until they figure out I’m your mystery woman.”
“I can protect you.”
“No you can’t.” Her voice sounded sad and weary. “I can’t be with you anymore.”
“Yes you can!” If she wanted him to beg, he’d damn well beg. “I’ll destroy every trace of every picture I’ve ever taken of you.”
She sniffled like she was holding back tears. “It’s not just about those pictures. I can probably forgive you for that. But I just can’t take the chance that the paparazzi will find me. As long as my name is connected to yours, and they know where you are, I’m a target and it’ll destroy me. I’m moving away, to some place no one can ever find me. I won’t drag you down with me.
“Drag me down?” His heart thumped hard with each breath he took. “You can’t drag me down.”
She sniffled. “You can’t even imagine the damage I can do.”
“Please! Let me help you.” Damn. He felt moisture well up in his eyes.
“No. Don’t try to see me, call me, anything. I’m sorry.”
He thought he heard her gasp as she ended the call.
Sliding down along the kitchen counter to sit on the floor, he rested his forehead against his knees and wept.
****
Angelique’s vision blurred as she tried to read the directions on the box of hair dye she’d bought in Bar Harbor. She wouldn’t be going to any Lobster Cove shops anymore.
She’d gone to Marge at Hair’s the Thing after business hours and had most of her long dark hair cut off. She now sported a short pixie with soft curls framing her face.
Well, as the commercial said, blondes have more fun. Now was her time to find out.
She had an appointment to see an eye doctor to get colored contact lenses in order to change her eye color. No one would ever be able to link Angie Doucette to Angelique Durand, as long as people kept their mouths shut and Katie Myers’ Addington friends stayed where they belonged…in Addington.
She studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror, grimacing at how puffy her eyes were from crying. No more. She was done crying over Tim Baldwin. She’d meant what she said about being able to forgive him, eventually, for the secret photos, but more than that, it was just too dangerous for her to be around him.
It totally sucked large that she was in love with him. She didn’t see herself getting over him any time soon. It would get better once she was able to move away from Lobster Cove and start over somewhere else.
She didn’t want to start over somewhere else. Angelique loved Lobster Cove, which surprised the hell out of her. She’d made a place here. She belonged.
Sighing, she looked down at the box in her hand. Time to put Miss Clairol through her paces.
****
“Hey! T. L. Baldwin! Over here!”
Tim squinted against the sun only to see about five guys with cameras camped out in front of his beach steps. Fuck. He had to get rid of them before they found Angelique. “Go away! I have nothing to say to you!”
“Rumor has it you’re dating Angelique Durand. Do you care to comment on that?”
“No. Go away before I call the police.”
“It’s a public beach,” one of the paparazzi said.
He heard Chester growl from the patio door. Maybe he had a better solution than the cops to get rid of these clowns. “Okay. Have it your way.”
He went to the door and grabbed Chester by the collar. The dog strained at his ho
ld and punctuated his growling with some menacing woofs. His lips pulled up, revealing his dangerous Doberman teeth.”
“Let me put it this way, gentlemen. You’ve got until the count of five to get out of here or I’ll let my dog loose. We clear?”
“But“
“One.”
The idiots with the cameras got the message and scrambled away. Tim gave a quick thought to letting go of Chester, but decided against it. “S’okay, buddy. Good boy,” he crooned to the dog until he felt Chester relax into a riff of low energy growls. “I think you earned a soup bone tonight.”
Chester sat and his stump of a tail thumped along the deck. “Woof!”
“I couldn’t have said it any better myself.” He glanced over at Angelique’s house hoping for a glimpse of her.
No such luck. But it was terribly clear that she was right. Being around him made her a paparazzi target. He’d have to figure out what to do about that, pronto.
Chapter Forty-Four
“Come on, Birdie. Tell me where she is.” Tim faced down Birdie McCorkle in his quest to get some face time with Angelique.
“She feels strongly that being with you is dangerous for her.” Birdie fisted her hands on her hips, clearly ready to do battle with him.
“I’ve got the paparazzi problem all taken care of. As long as Chester’s around, they’re not going to bother her.”
Birdie sniffed and stared at him, making him feel like a disgusting, slimy specimen on a lab slide.
“Please.”
“Oh, and it’s lucky you are that I’ve a soft spot in my heart for you.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got her making up the rooms these days, so those damn reporters can’t find her.” She smiled. “She’s up on the third floor of the main house. Don’t blink. You might miss her.” She chuckled as she walked away.
Don’t blink? What the hell did she mean by that?
He shook his head. Birdie McCorkle had one very strange sense of humor.
****
Angelique pushed dirty linens into a bag to haul down to the laundry. Her lower back ached in throbbing waves as she stood to stretch and massage it with her hands. As she rolled her shoulders backwards and forwards she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She bowed her head and willed herself to become as invisible as possible.
“Excuse me,” the person said as he passed by her.
“Tim?” She spoke before she thought.
Tim stopped dead in his tracks. “Angelique?” His eyes widened and rounded. “What have you done to yourself?”
She ran a hand through her new short, blonde hair. “Like it?”
“It’s different.”
“I changed things up now that the paps are on the hunt.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head then let it hang down. After a moment, he raised his eyes and stared at her. “I need to talk to you.”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I’ve said all I have to say. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” She turned her back to him.
“I’m seeing a therapist.”
She froze. “That’s good.”
“I haven’t had any nightmares for a week now. And I’m not going to do dangerous things anymore.”
She barely dared to breathe. “I’m glad. You’ve got a lot to offer the world. I’d be afraid to lose you.”
“Would you? I mean, be afraid to lose me?”
Her hands began to tremble. “Yes,” she whispered.
He put his hands on her upper arms. “Then be with me.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”
“I still need time.”
His hands dropped away. “Angelique.”
“I mean it. If you love me like you say you do, you’ll give me what I need.”
“How much time?” Impatience flared in his gaze.
“I don’t know! Just a little while longer.”
“You can’t make me wait around forever. I’m not like one of your old boyfriends that you can just keep on a string until it’s convenient for you.”
The sudden stab of pain made her gasp. She wrenched away from him. “Is that what you think?” she demanded as she faced him.
His mouth softened. “No. I don’t think that. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Are you going to bring that up every time we have a disagreement?” She felt like she could shoot fire out of her fingertips.
His shoulders slumped. “No. I don’t even know why I said it this time. I’m sorry.”
“I think you need to go. I’ve got work to do.”
“Okay, but I’m not giving up. We belong together, Angelique.”
“Please go.” She refused to cry.
She didn’t turn around until she was sure he’d left.
****
“Did our Timothy catch up with you?” Birdie walked into the Sea Crest Inn’s laundry room where Angelique was folding and stacking towels.
“Yes.” She really didn’t want to talk about Tim.
“So, are you going to give him a second chance?”
Angelique hugged a towel to her chest. “I don’t know. It all feels so complicated. I should just pick up and go somewhere else to live.”
“Don’t you dare!” Birdie gasped. “You belong here!”
Her head felt too heavy on her neck. “I don’t want to leave, but everyone knows who I am now. I’ll have no privacy at all.”
“Things will die down after a bit and they’ll find someone new to focus on. You’ll have all the privacy you want. With Tim.”
Angelique shook her head. “There’s no more me and Tim.”
Birdie stared at her. Angelique tried not to flinch.
“I had one great love in my life,” Birdie finally said. “Ian McCorkle. He was a fisherman, but so full of grand plans, he was. ‘Birdie, me girl,’ he’d tell me, ‘one day we’re goin’ back to County Clare, you dressed in the finest silks and shiniest jewels, and everyone will know our ship came in.’” She sighed. “My Ian could spin a tale longer than the day. I loved him with all my heart and soul. Now mind you, me parents didn’t want us to marry so young and to move so far away, but we didn’t hear anything else but what we wanted and dreamed about.”
“Oh, Birdie.” Angelique’s heart had just ripped in two jagged pieces.
“Don’t you dare pity me, Angie. I lived more in the time I had with my Ian than most people get for a lifetime. I thought I died when he did.”
“If you don’t mind me asking“
“The boat he worked on went out in a gale that turned fierce, hurricane fierce, in a matter of an hour. They floundered and crashed against the cliffs. All that was left was debris until the bodies washed up.” Birdie swallowed but remained dry eyed. “They’d been in the sea for several days, so identifying them was a difficult matter. We were able to tell my Ian by his watch. It was still ticking.”
“I’m so sorry.” Since Birdie wasn’t teary, Angelique didn’t dare let a single drop fall. “I just need some time.”
“So here’s me best advice. Don’t waste a second. When a man looks at you like Tim Baldwin does, you pay attention. Don’t throw love away with both hands. Give him another chance, Angie. He deserves it.” Birdie patted her on the cheek. “You deserve it.”
“Do I? I’ve not been the nicest person in the world.”
“You couldn’t prove that by me. Besides, it seems Lobster Cove is a place where people come and find true love. Don’t fight it. True love is a wonderful thing. As is forgiveness.”
A wave of love washed over her for this woman, who had horrible hair and not one single lick of style. She put her arms around Birdie’s neck, squeezed her eyes shut, and hugged her tight.
She finally had a best friend.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Oh, Chester looks just bee-yoo-tee-ful, Uncle Tim!” Cookie clapped her hands and jumped up and down like a fist full of Mex
ican jumping beans.
At Cookie’s suggestion, they’d put one of her many tutus, the rainbow one bedazzled with sequin butterflies, on Chester for his costume. Topped with a sparkly tiara that had lights that blinked on and off and played Happy Birthday to You whenever you pushed a button on the crown, which they’d Macgyvered to stay on the Doberman’s head, the dog looked flat out ridiculous but resigned to his fate.
“He looks very festive,” Tim said.
“He looks stupid,” Danny said. “I still think we should have dressed him up as Mega-Mole.” Mega-Mole was a character in Danny’s favorite comic book series, The Adventures of The Refractor.
“He does not look stupid!” Cookie vehemently stomped her little sandal clad foot. “Don’t listen to him, Chester. You look pretty.”
“Yeah. Pretty stupid.”
Tim’s temples started to throb.
“That’s enough out of you, Danny.” Beth sent her son one of the hairiest eyeballs Tim had ever seen. Danny grinned while he made a zipping motion across his lips.
The kid was a pistol. Tim loved that about him. Cookie was clouding up, a Nor’easter about to blow in. “Chester looks awesome, Cookie girl. No other dog will look as good.”
She stuck her tongue out at her brother. The pair of them were priceless. Chester did the doggie version of rolling his eyes.
Other pet owners gathered on the expansive lawn in front of the Yacht Club. Keen Quinn dragged his German Shepherd Guda, dressed as a policeman, over to the staging area. Eve Darling led her Bichon Frisé, Cupid, as the angel winged god of love.
Tim shook his head. Where did people come up with this stuff? He looked down at Chester who was patiently letting Cookie fluff up his tutu. He guessed he shouldn’t talk.
Alice Dalton carried around a huge Maine coon cat dressed up in a dog suit.
Yikes.
“Hey, Tim.” He turned around to see Tracy Novak and her pup, who wore a brown doggie sweater with darker brown spots on it. Around his neck she’d put a collar that looked like a chocolate chip cookie with a big bite taken out of it.
“Nice costume,” he said.
Tracy grinned. “My Cookie’s dressed like a cookie.”
Danny’s ears perked up. “Your dog’s name is Cookie?”