Carolina Mist (21 page)

“Drew looks nothing like Alex.” Abby frowned. “Nothing at all. Though I admit I thought so at first. There’s something similar in the way they walk, that’s all.”

Abby followed Naomi down the steps and unlocked the front door, agreeing to share a coffee break with her friend the next morning. Relocking the door, Abby tried to bring Drew’s face into view in her mind’s eye to mentally compare it with Alex’s. True, they both had brown hair that parted naturally to the right. And they both had brown eyes. Lots of people have brown hair and brown eyes. Alex was taller, Drew was stockier. Alex was more muscular, Drew was older.

And, she mused, her senses suddenly ambushed by the memory of Alex’s long, lean body stretched out along the dock, as charming as her surprise visitor had been, he had none of Alex’s appeal, none of his casual sexiness.

Still, there had been
something
…

Abby paused at the bottom of the steps, trying to put her finger on it, wrestling with some errant fleeting image that had seemed to skip across her inner field of vision.

Perhaps, as she had noted earlier, it
was
just the walk and nothing more.

25

“…
so I guess the best thing for me to do is to drive down to the hardware store and see if they have a longer ladder.” Alex leaned back in his chair after a hearty Saturday lunch, both arms resting along the arms of the kitchen chair. “Abby
…
Abby?” He leaned slightly to the left, as if to invade her field of vision.

“What?” Embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming, Abby blushed.
At least,
she thought gratefully,
he can't read my mind.

“I said, the ladder is too short to reach the top of the windows on the second floor. I’m going to Phelps’s to see if they have a longer one.” He was clearly amused by her discomfiture.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I was
…
ah
…
just thinking,” she stammered.
I was just thinking of how adorable you look with all those little curls of paint in your hair.
“About dinner.”

“Do you need anything from downtown?” he asked as he began to clear the table of their lunch dishes.

“I don’t know. That is, I don’t know what to have for dinner.”
That was a stupid thing to say,
she chided herself.
You’ve had the dinner me
nu
planned all week.

“Oh? Looked like beef Stroganoff, last time I looked in the refrigerator. Beef. Mushrooms. Sour cream.” He winked as he went through the door into the kitchen.

Get a grip,
she commanded.
You are acting like a lovesick adolescent. Find a way to get over it. Or at least function normally when he’s around.

“You’re right.” She laughed self-consciously. “I had planned on Stroganoff for tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking of.”

“Probably all that old dust you’re stirring up has gone to your head. It’s a beautiful afternoon, Ab. Let’s walk downtown.”

“If you walk, how will you get the ladder back here? Assuming that they have one. And wouldn’t it be easier to call and ask what size ladders they have?”

“Yes, of course. Okay, I admit, I’m only looking for an excuse to take a walk with you. Come on, Ab. You’ve been cooped up all week, breathing in dust and dirt and who knows what else. Take thirty minutes and get some fresh air.”

Just a short thirty-minute walk,
she told herself.
I do need the fresh air.
As if to convince herself, she coughed a dry cough.
Alex’s right. Too much dust and old plaster, too much dried old wallpaper glue.

He slowed his pace to match hers as they followed the uneven sidewalk toward the end of Cove Road, toward the center of Primrose.

“Remember old Mrs. Lawrence, Ab?” he asked as they walked past the home of the woman, now surely deceased, who had been a regular guest at Aunt Leila’s Sunday teas.

“I certainly do. She was tall and angular and smelled of cloves.”

“And she had that dog that used to bark like a demon when we rode past on our bikes.”

“A boxer, it was. I remember how she was so proud that she was the only person in Primrose to have a boxer.”

“I always wondered what that dog would have done to us if he’d gotten loose.”

“Probably the same thing he did to the Marshalls’ cat.” Abby made a face. “I heard from Aunt Leila that it wasn’t pretty.”

“I wonder what happened to that dog.”

“Died. Just like Mrs. Lawrence and Mrs. Marshall and the Marshalls’ cat. Most of the people we knew back then are gone. Except for Belle.”

“Naomi’s still around,” he noted.

“I didn’t know her back then. Did you?”

“Not that I remember. She said once that she used to see us around town.”

“She told me that, too. I asked her why she didn’t join us, and she said
…
’’Abby hesitated, recalling Naomi’s words.

“
…
that we just looked like we belonged together, alone.” Alex finished the sentence for her. “And she was right. I never needed anyone’s company but yours, Ab.” They walked in silence past three or four houses, then crossed the street.

“Primrose is remarkably the same, don’t you think? There are some new shops, but for the most part, the town has changed very little.”

“You sound happy about that,” she noted.

“I guess I am. Maybe it gives me a certain sense of security to have a constant in my life again.”

“What about your job?” she asked.
What about Melissa?
is what she meant.

“I’m very good at what I do,” he told her pointedly.

“I’m sure that you are. What I meant was, don’t you get a certain amount of satisfaction—of security or self-esteem or whatever—from what you do?”

He seemed to mull over the question before offering an answer. “I get satisfaction when I win a case. If that kind of satisfaction means self-esteem, then I guess I get that, too.”

“And security?”

“You don’t get that from a job. You get that from
…
” He appeared to struggle. His facial expression hardened.

Abby looked up at him, anticipating the completion of his sentence.

“Who knows where that comes from?” he mumbled, kicking a stone from the sidewalk with a quick, fierce deliberation.

“When I was working for White-Edwards, I felt very secure,” she confided. “I was very proud of myself. I had worked hard and deserved every perk, every raise, every bonus, every promotion. I felt as if I had made a very safe little world for myself.”

Abby’s shoulder brushed against his arm as they walked. She thrust her hands into her pockets to keep herself from looping an arm through his as they strolled along.

“One of the reasons losing my job had hurt so much was that
I
had really believed it was mine for as long as I wanted it to be mine. That it was something that could not be taken from me unless I wanted to give it up.” She cleared her throat.

“Was that naivete or arrogance? Everyone is expendable.”

“Tell me about it.” She frowned at the memory of her exit interview. “Well, it’s a mistake I won’t make again.”

“Are you still looking for a new position?”

“Yes. I still have resumes floating throughout half the major cities in the country. And I have a few headhunters looking for me.”

“What would you do if a really great offer came in before the house was ready to be sold?”

“Well, I guess I would take the job and hope that the local Realtors could find a buyer for the place in whatever condition it is in by then.”

“Won’t you miss it? The house, Primrose, Naomi
…
”

“Yes. Of course.” She frowned at the obvious, though she herself had not, she realized, given much thought to this aspect of leaving town. “But there’s no work for someone like me around here. There’s no market for what I do in Primrose.”

“Do something else,” he suggested.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Kane, Esquire. Attorneys can find work just about anywhere. With experience in
only
investment counseling, my resume is a bit thin, sir.”

He was about to say something else when they reached the doorway to the hardware store. He put aside whatever
thought he’d been about to share and held the door for her. While Alex discussed the availability of a ladder of the required height and arranged for its delivery that afternoon, Abby poked around at the eclectic array of goods for sale. Kitchen gadgets from apple corers to microwave ovens. Shower curtains, bathmats, and toothbrush holders in the latest colors. African violets and flower seeds. Spatulas and barbecue grills, paring knives and Scotch tape.

“Don’t you just love stores like this?” Alex grinned as he sorted through a bin of loose nails.

“I do. Almost as much as I love stationery stores,” she told him as they walked back outside. “I could fill an afternoon looking at notebooks and writing papers and notepapers and cards and calendars and appointment books—not that I need one of
those
these days,” she added ruefully.

“Well, the right position will come along, sooner or later.” Alex took her by the arm and led her across the street.

“There’s a lot to be said for sooner,” she said, enjoying the feel of his hand on her arm. “Where are we going?”

“All of a sudden, I have a craving for a double chocolate ice cream cone.” He grinned, steering her through the door of the Primrose Cafe. “And you’ll have strawberry. Single dip. Chocolate sprinkles.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” Abby laughed.

“You have to be kidding. We did this every day for years.” He nudged her, his hand lingering on the small of her back. The small act seemed to both soothe and agitate her.

Soon they were headed back to Cove Road, paper napkins wrapped around the bottoms of the cones to keep the ice cream from dripping onto their hands.

“Look, Ab, they’ve paved Patton’s Road.” He pointed to where the once-dirt road angled into Cove.

“I noticed.”

“Remember when we used to ride our bikes out to the Point?”

“And just about anyplace else we wanted to go. Bikes
were definitely the prime mode of transportation back in those days. Especially since neither Aunt Leila nor Belle had a car. It was bike it or walk.”

“Wonder where those old bikes are now?”

“After all these years, they’re rusted and useless, wherever they may be.”

“Ummm, I guess.” He sighed.

“You’re slowing down, Kane.” She poked his side. “Not losing momentum, are you?”

“Nah. It just feels good to kind of amble along. It’s a nice change of pace for me. Not rushing. Not pushing. Just enjoying the sunshine and the company.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of sunshine atop that ladder— which, it appears, is being delivered as we speak.” Abby pointed to the pickup that had pas
sed them as they rounded the corn
er onto Cove Road. “And the company is not likely to change for the rest of the weekend.”

“Suits me just fine,” he told her. “There is no
place I’d rather be. And, Abby
…
”

“Abby, Abby!” Meredy was jumping up and down on the opposite side of the street.

“Hi, Sweet Pea,” Abby called back.

“Someone’s at your house, Abby.”

“I know, baby. Mr. Phelps is bringing us a new ladder.” Abby sighed, wondering what thought Alex’d had that Meredy’s enthusiastic pronouncement had pushed aside.

“Are you going to paint?”

“I don’t know.” Abby frowned, wondering how many good work hours were left in the day. “I had planned to.”

“Momma said she was going to get out into her garden today.” Meredy was parallel to them across Cove Road, trying to keep up with Abby and Alex by taking two steps to each one of theirs while tugging with pudgy fingers at the dangling ribbons of an overlarge straw hat that threatened to slide from her head. “And she said I could help.”

“I like your hat,” Abby told her.

“Momma says I have to wear it when I go out into the sun, so’s I don’t
burn up.
”
Meredy repeated her mother’s
words with the same emphasis as Naomi must have used, and both Abby and Alex smiled at the child’s recitation. “Momma says
…
”

“Momma says you are going to talk everyone near to
death,
Meredith Dare Hunter.” Naomi appeared at the end of her driveway, a pair of large pruning shears in one hand, a pair of heavy gloves in the other. She smiled and waved to Abby and Alex as they passed by, then shooed her daughter into the backyard, where she could keep an eye on her.

“Well, there’s your new ladder.” Abby pointed up the driveway before turning back to check the mailbox.

“Can I help you
with something?” Alex called.

“I’m just getting the mail,” she replied, before looking up and realizing he had spoken to someone beyond her. Curious, she closed the mailbox and followed Alex around the side of the house.

“Drew!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t expect you back so
soon.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean it’s
too
soon.” He flashed a smile.

“Of course not.” Abby smiled back at him.

A very solid pause hung i
n the air, heavy as a block of
concrete, as the two men approached and looked each other over warily.

“Alex
…
Alex.”
She tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. “This is Drew Cassidy.”

“Cassidy,” Alex repeated, and for a moment, Abby was uncertain if he was addressing Drew or merely repeating his name.

“Alex Kane,” Abby told Drew, “is Belle’s grandson.”

“I see.” Drew extended a hand with little enthusiasm. The two men shook and more or less grunted a greeting of sorts.

“Alex is helping me renovate the house,” Abby explained. Then, to Alex, “Drew is Thomas’s grandson.”