A Misty Harbor Wedding (8 page)

Juliet was struggling to open the windows. One was open, and she was mumbling under her breath as she tried to raise the other one. The windows were very seldom opened. The reason for that was obvious. They were a bitch to get up or down.

“Here, I'll get that.” He placed the tray on the table next to the chess set and put his weight behind trying to open the wooden-framed window. Either the frame was swollen by too many winters and summer storms, or it had been painted one too many times. It took him a few minutes, but he finally managed to get the window up. A cool summer breeze blew sea-scented air into the room.

Juliet pulled her hair to one side, then sat down in the chair closest to the window. “Thank you. I hope you don't mind me opening them.”

“Not at all.” He moved the chess set to the top of a display case. “Sorry, I guess the aroma can be a little overbearing.”

Juliet wondered if her eyes were watering. The stench of burnt tobacco and cigars permeated everything in the entire shop. How did Gordon Hanley, the man who was her biological father, stay in business? “You don't have to apologize. I'm just not used to smokers, that's all.”

“It's a nasty habit.”

She smiled. “Yet you do it.” Her mother told her Gordon Hanley had been a dramatically romantic figure, that every college girl had dreamt about. She tried to picture what Gordon had looked like twenty-six years ago. Sitting across from him, she could see what her mother had meant. Gordon was still a good-looking man, in a Gothic sort of way. He must have been stunning back in his youth. He was tall and thin with an angular face and flowing long black hair that was now streaked with gray. The man who had fathered her looked like a poet.

“I've never touched a cigarette or a cigar. Now a pipe is a different story.” Gordon picked up a glass of soda and relaxed into the chair. “A man needs a vice or two to stay sane in this world.”

“I could think of worse vices.” She now understood where she got her height, her dark hair, and her metabolism. Her mother and sister, Miranda, constantly groused about how she could eat anything and not gain an ounce, while they just looked at food and their jeans got tighter.

“Like having a child and never giving one dime of support?”

She worried her lower lip at the serious change of topic. A touchy subject, by the tone of Gordon's voice. “From what I've been told, you didn't know my mother was pregnant or about me till I was fifteen. My mother asked you not to interfere or contact us.”

Gordon didn't deny that statement. “When did Victoria tell you about me?”

“Two months ago. We were having a family dinner when the topic of who had what blood type came up. Mom changed the subject and then asked me to stay after my brothers and sister left.”

“Brothers and a sister?”

“You don't know?” She stared at Gordon Hanley, her father, and realized he knew about as much about her life as she knew of his. Absolutely nothing. “I have two brothers and a sister.”

“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 thinking 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.”