Harbor Nights (15 page)

He stood alone in his office and watched his brother walk away. He didn't need his brother's blessing, and he still hated to be called runt, but a smile was tugging at his mouth anyway. Norah had been looking at him, and he had been looking back. It was nice to know the attraction had not only been instantaneous, but also mutual. It was also nice to know that he hadn't caused a rift between himself and Matthew.

Family was very important to him, but so was whatever was developing between him and Norah. There was something very special happening, and it wasn't only when he kissed her. Just spending time with her was wonderful and different. He was even getting used to all the noises she made whenever she moved. The gentle jangling of silver and copper bracelets, the tinkling of charms on her ankle bracelet, and even the sounds all her rings made when her fingers connected with something were becoming music to his heart.

Was it possible that this was the first step to falling in love, this waxing poetically about Celtic-designed jewelry on a certain little redhead? If it was, his brothers were going to be very amused in the coming weeks watching him fall.

 

 

Joanna glanced around her, feeling eighteen again. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling for a forty-five-year-old woman to be experiencing. Karl had picked her up after work, and instead of their usual BLTs or tuna melts at Krups, he had made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town, Catch of the Day. It was Sunday evening, and the gallery had closed at six instead of the usual nine
PM
.

They had first stopped by her house to drop off Zsa Zsa. She'd had to leave the dog alone in the house since Norah was still at Ned's. She just hoped Zsa Zsa behaved herself tonight. The last time she had been left alone, she had gotten into a snit and chewed up one of the throw pillows on the couch.

She glanced around the crowded restaurant and realized she recognized a couple of the faces. Some of the people had stopped in the gallery; some were regulars at Krup's. Others, she could tell, were tourists. Misty Harbor was becoming home to her. She liked that. She liked that very much.

The last time she had been in a nice restaurant was when Norah had taken her out to celebrate her divorce. If her memory served her right, she had cried through the whole main entree for things that had never been and were never going to be. In a strange twist of fate, that sad little celebration had been a cleansing ritual. She had felt stronger than she had ever been when she left that restaurant, and she had been ready to start a new, different life.

Looking across the table at Karl, who was dressed in a retro Hawaiian shirt with his hair pulled neatly back in a ponytail, she had to marvel at fate and some of the strange twists it had been throwing at her lately. Who would have ever thought she would be dating an ex-FBI man who looked like he had dropped out of a rock and roll band back in the sixties. A man who wore an earring and drove a motorcycle. Her mother, if she were still alive, would have had heart failure.

“What did Ethan say when you told him about Howell's Gallery selling the same pottery for almost double his asking price?” Karl gave their waitress a smile as she placed their salads before them. “Thank you.”

She gave the young woman a small smile of appreciation. “He asked if I saw anyone buying any of it.” She had enjoyed browsing other galleries up in Bangor yesterday with Karl as her tour guide. In truth, Karl had been more interesting than the stuffy, highbrow galleries. She much preferred Ethan's style of sophistication and the relaxing, no pressure atmosphere. “I told him no. People were looking, appreciating its beauty, but I didn't see anyone buying.”

“What did he say to that?” Karl placed the linen napkin across his lap, but he seemed more interested in what she had to say than in eating.

“He didn't say anything really. Just chuckled and went back to the pile of paperwork sitting on his desk.” Ethan had been curious about some of her impressions both on the layout of the galleries and the merchandise. She had felt a little funny about voicing her opinion until she had realized that Ethan was really interested in what she thought. Then the poor man couldn't shut her up.

It was heady stuff having men not only ask for her opinion now but also seem to welcome it. The only opinion her ex-husband had ever asked her for was about what tie looked better with his suit on the rare occasions he accompanied her and Norah to church. Half the time, Vince had worn the one she hadn't picked just to irritate her.

“Ethan particularly liked my impressions of Christine's World of Art.”

Karl almost choked on his cherry tomato. “You told Ethan I took you to Christine's?”

“Of course; it was one of the highlights of the day.” The main highlight had been Karl's kiss goodnight. She had never kissed a man with a beard before, and she'd discovered she quite liked it. She wasn't sure if it was because of the beard or if a certain artist had a lot to do with her pleasure.

“Did you tell him about the mannequins?”

“How do you explain Christine's without them? I mean, they were throughout the entire place.” Christine, as Karl had explained, was the wife of a very wealthy man, and for some reason unexplained throughout high society of Bangor, she thought it was her duty to be a patron of the arts. Christine's contribution was opening a gallery on her husband's dime and exhibiting the works of the starving artists of Bangor and the surrounding area.

There was a very good reason those artists were starving.

Joanna had never seen such a bizarre collection of paintings and sculptures in all her life. There was one entire section dedicated to paint by number pictures. Half of them weren't even done properly. Rusty farm equipment had been welded to empty missile shells and hailed as art. Horrible, frightening clay masks, all in the shape of animal heads and snapping and snarling, with saliva dripping from their mouths, lined an entire wall. For some strange reason, a stuffed grizzly bear greeted the clientele in the main foyer with its marble floors and crystal chandelier.

But the mannequins were what had caught her eye and imagination. Throughout all three levels of the gallery were scattered at least a hundred mannequins, all of which were dressed in outfits ranging from shorts and T-shirts, like tourists, to sequined gowns and tuxes for the opera goers. The mannequins were the customers, positioned so that they were staring at the displays with big painted on mouths wide open in wonder. No eyes. No noses. Not even hair; just wide open mouths gaping.

It had been strange seeing the plastic people wearing everything from well-accessorized Armani gowns to snow boots and parkas, but the weirdest part was that they were for sale. For a mere eighteen hundred dollars she could have owned her very own life-sized doll dressed in a Donna Karan suit and Jimmy Choo shoes.

Of course, Karl had whispered that that particular model looked, with her wide, obscene mouth, like a blow-up doll from a porn shop he'd once raided. She had been laughing so hard that they'd had to leave the gallery, and she never had gotten to see the paper clip structure displays. Karl had been nice enough to promise to take her back some other time, once the snobby clerk had forgotten what they looked like.

“What was Ethan's opinion of Christine's latest protégée?”

“He sprayed his coffee all over an invoice when I told him about the mannequin dressed like Roy Rogers and sitting on a stuffed horse.” She chuckled at the memory and thought about all the fun she was having since she'd started working. “He made me promise to warn him before I talked about Christine and her latest
Save The Starving Artist
exhibit again.” The amazing part was that Ethan gave her a paycheck at the end of the week for doing something she was finding so much enjoyment in.

“You and Ethan get along pretty well, don't you?” Karl dug into his salad.

“Yes, we do. Why?”

“Just curious.” Karl gave her a smile that warmed her. “It's nice seeing someone happy in their job.”

Karl knew the gallery was the first place she had ever worked. “Weren't you happy at the Bureau?” She found it fascinating that he had been a Federal agent.

“The day I had my twenty-five years in was the day I retired.” Karl shrugged. “By the time I realized I was just butting my head against a concrete wall, I had too many years in to just walk away. I should have, but I didn't.”

“What made you join in the first place?”

“I always wanted to be a cop like my dad and his dad before him.” Karl wiped his mouth with his napkin. “During my training, I was approached and asked if I wanted to join the Bureau. I'll admit now that I was too flattered to say no. Next thing I knew, I was in Virginia learning the world was full of sick, twisted people that didn't follow the rules. Our hands, however, were tied with chains of red tape, rules, and regulations.”

“Let me guess. You felt obliged to go after them anyway.” She could see now how they had used Karl's youth and naivete to recruit him. There was a lot of good in Karl.

“Someone had to, but now I leave it up to the younger, more ambitious generation to go and get them.” Karl smiled. “I don't regret it, Joanna. It was an experience of a lifetime, and on more than a few occasions, we actually got our man or woman, as the case may be.”

“But it cost you so much.”

“What did it cost me?”

“Your wife.” She had seen the sadness in Karl's eyes when he talked about Susan and her kids. “A family of your own.” Karl, even with being a sought-after artist and having a very busy career, was lonely. She knew the signs. She lived the signs.

“There are too many divorces nowadays to blame the Bureau. It didn't help our marriage, but there are many agents who are happily married and have children. They make it work.”

“They aren't you.” Joanna smiled as the waitress removed their empty salad plates.

“Are you saying I'm the type of guy who can't have a wife or a family?”

“Not at all.” She gave him a teasing smile. “But if you're thinking about starting that family, you are definitely dating the wrong women.”

Karl laughed along with her. “I'm too old to be starting one, but most of the women in my age group have children already.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I've already dated a grandmother or two.”

“Like me.”

“You're too young to be a grandmother.” Karl reached across the table and held her hand. “You look too young to have a daughter Norah's age.”

“But I do. Norah's twenty-four.”

“I know. I met her yesterday morning, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I'm not that old that senility has set in.” Norah and she had talked when she had finally come in from her date with Karl last night. It had been nearing eleven o'clock, and Norah had been curled up on the sofa reading. She had a sneaking suspension her daughter had been waiting up for her, even though Norah had hotly denied that accusation.

“I didn't cause you any trouble by keeping you out too late, did I?”

Joanna snorted, then sheepishly said, “Almost. My daughter wants me to get a cell phone, so she can find me or I can call if I'm going to be late.” She tried not to blush at the reversal of their mother-daughter roles.

“Excellent idea. I should have given Norah my cell phone number in case she needed you yesterday.”

“Oh, she didn't need me.” She smiled at the thought of her daughter being with Ned. “She was busy all day with Ned Porter and had just gotten home a little before me.”

“I didn't know they were seeing each other.” Karl could tell Joanna was pleased her daughter was getting out and about.

“Norah claims they aren't. Ned just needed help watching his nephews and nieces while their parents were away for the weekend.”

“I see.” So why was Joanna so pleased with herself? The flush in her cheeks brought a sparkle to her green eyes. Joanna had stopped fidgeting with the silverware by their third lunch date. She was more relaxed and open in his company.

“No, you don't.” Joanna chuckled. “She went back over to Ned's house first thing this morning and told me not to make or hold dinner for her tonight.”

“Didn't you tell her we already had plans for dinner?” It had taken him exactly one lunch date with Joanna to know he had to win her daughter over if there was going to be any chance of a relationship between them. Norah had been Joanna's whole world, but her world was growing. Zsa Zsa now played a very important part in it, along with Ethan's gallery. He'd never met a woman who loved to go to work as much as Joanna. He hoped he was becoming as important to Joanna as she was to him.

“Oh, I told her.” Joanna's smile was slightly wicked. “After she told me about going to Ned's again.”

He wanted to see that same smile curving her mouth while she was lying in his bed. Joanna Stevens was driving him nuts. Here he was pushing fifty, and he was totally, as his mother would have said, smitten with her. He could think of a couple other ways to phrase it, but Joanna didn't deserve those words. She had class, while he had seen the darker side of life, love, and lust.

“You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?” Joanna looked like a woman totally enjoying her life. “I take it you like Ned.” He knew Ned and a couple of his brothers. The Porter boys came from good stock.

“Ned seems very nice, but I'm enjoying the fact that Norah is finally dating again.”

“May I asked why she stopped?” Norah was a gorgeous young woman. Normally, he would have guessed a terrible heartbreak had put the tiny redhead off dating, but this was Joanna's daughter. There were secrets there.