An Unexpected Suitor (10 page)

“Thank you, Ian, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll just go and see him at the…down there.”

“That urgent, huh?” Ian asked, his eyes afire with curiosity.

Nola forced a laugh. “Not at all. As you said, it’s a lovely morning and this may well be my last opportunity for a walk on such a day. We’re getting to be quite busy at the tearoom.”

“Aye,” Ian replied. “I sure hope that’s the way it stays for the remainder of the summer. I’ve got a store full of goods I need to move.”

“Which reminds me,” Nola said with a smile. “I could use another dozen of those fine table napkins you ordered for me last season.”

“Got my table linen order in last week. I’ll send over a baker’s dozen as soon as it’s unpacked.”

“Thank you, Ian,” Nola said. “Put it on my account and give my regards to Mrs. McAllister.”

Ian’s wife had joined the ranks of those who thought Nola had made a grave error in associating with the actors. But faced with disapproval from practically every quarter in the small village, Nola had decided that her best defense was no defense at all. She simply went about her business as she always had and treated everyone the same as she had before the actors arrived. She would not make excuses for her decisions no matter who was concocting these silly notes of warning.

Without hesitation, lest she lose her nerve, she strode the rest of the way through town, nodding to those she passed along the way but not stopping to visit. As she neared the end of Broadway she kept her focus on the low-pitched shingled roof capped by two louvered square cupolas that seemingly overnight had become the town’s newest landmark. Nola had avoided the place even as others in ’Sconset had watched it so closely it seemed as if some of them had witnessed every nail being driven.

Even from several doors away, she could hear the sounds of hammering and sawing coming from inside. And as she came closer she could not help but admit that this was a handsome building. Shutters framed the large windows that ran along the front and sides of the cedar-shingled exterior. In addition there was a welcoming porch, not unlike her own, stretching across the entire front of the building and wrapping around to one side where it ended in an enclosed pavilion.

She paused for a moment to take it all in. She could understand why Harry wanted to buy her out. Her home and tearoom would be the perfect retreat for those special visitors who wanted to be in the thick of things and at the same time a bit removed from the general activity in the village. The
cabaret certainly was a far cry from the shadowy shuttered place she had envisioned. It was light and airy and inviting.

Nevertheless, she thought as she stepped inside, there were other options. In Nola’s opinion Harry had become so used to getting whatever he set out to acquire that the very idea someone might refuse to cooperate was unthinkable.

“Well, well, well,” Harry murmured, tipping his chair back as he watched Nola Burns enter the cabaret. She stood just inside the door for a moment, no doubt allowing her eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine of the day to the dimmer sawdust-filled interior. She was wearing an ankle-length skirt the color of the sea on a July day and he couldn’t help wondering if she’d worn the uncharacteristic color in order to impress him.

She approached Horace, asked a question and Harry saw Horace point in his direction. He watched her cross the large hall, dodging workmen and carpenters along the way. He waited until she was standing across the table that served as his desk, then slowly got to his feet. “Miss Nola.”

“Hello,” she mouthed, her soft voice drowned out by the voices of the workers calling out instructions and the sounds that came with finishing off the interior of a large room still in need of lighting, flooring and a stage.

Harry indicated the open rear entrance to the building. “Out here,” he shouted and waited for her to precede him onto the back landing. There he shut the door against the chaos inside and turned to her. “What do you think?” he asked, indicating with a sweep of one hand the building and surrounding grounds. “Tennis courts,” he explained, following her gaze to the side of the building where the ground had been chalked off in a grid. “Croquet over there.”

“Very impressive,” she replied, working the fingers of her cotton gloves more tightly into place. “Are you—that is, will you be ready to open on schedule?”

Harry was thrown by her question. Nola was usually one to come directly to the point. This polite chitchat was unlike her. He squinted at her. “We’ll be ready. Now, how can I help you, Nola?”

“I won’t keep you,” she replied, suddenly all business. “I can see that you have a great deal to accomplish in a very short period of time, and with rehearsals and all, you’re quite busy. I have come to apologize.”

“I see.”

“You were perfectly within your rights to be upset that I had staged the recital using talent you had hired. That will not happen again.”

“Apology accepted. Was there anything else?”

“Yes, I have also come to suggest a compromise,” she announced without missing a beat.

Harry’s squint evolved into a frown. “A compromise?”

“Yes. I can certainly appreciate that your acting troupe needs to have ample rehearsal time, especially now that you’ve reconstructed the piece to be played as an operetta. And I perfectly understand your desire to have them go over the material not once but twice a day, especially since—from what I’ve heard of the rehearsals to date—the play does seem to change significantly from day to day and they are constantly being challenged to learn new lyrics and melodies.”

Harry eyed her more closely. Was she making fun of him? Surely Ellie had confided to her that rehearsals were a disaster. “Go on.”

“And furthermore I would remind you that we had an agreement.”

“One you violated,” he pointed out.

“I don’t recall anything being said about whether or not I could offer entertainment in my establishment. But that’s hardly the point. The point is that, while I am sure this was not your intent, your decision to have the group rehearse morning and afternoon leaves me in a bit of a bind.”

Well aware that in business sometimes silence spoke more eloquently than words, Harry made no response. His action had the intended result of flustering Nola and he couldn’t help noticing that the rosy hue that pinked her cheeks was most becoming. It occurred to him that it had been several days since he’d seen Nola and he had to admit that he’d missed her.

“You see,” she hurried to add, “it occurred to me that if the troupe rehearsed morning and evening, they would still be able to staff the tearoom in the afternoons until I can find suitable replacements.”

“And just what progress have you made on that front?” Harry asked. “It seems to me that you haven’t yet even begun the search.” His gentle accusation needed no response. He was well aware that the best workers had long ago been snapped up by other businesses, not only on Nantucket but in resort communities up and down the eastern shore.

“I…That is…”

“You see, Nola, staffing your little tearoom is hardly my concern. In fact, we are both well aware that it would make life much easier for me were your business to suffer. Now, if there’s nothing more?”

Her eyes widened. “Obviously it was pointless to come here and attempt to conduct a reasonable discussion of the matter. How can you pretend to be a man of faith and wish suffering on others?” She turned to go then realized the
steps down from the landing were not yet in place. Trapped, she turned back to face him, her mouth working in frustration, her eyes now dewy with the tears of her anger.

“Nola,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I did not say I wanted to make you suffer. That’s the last thing I want. I said that
if
your business fell on hard times—of its own accord—that would be to my advantage. It’s a simple truth.”

“Well, here is a simple truth for you, Mr. Starbuck. My business will not fail. It did not fail when my mother became ill. It did not fail in the years when it was the sole source of income for my siblings and myself, and I assure you that it will not fail now.” Her eyes flamed with the strength of her determination.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked.

She blinked. “I don’t have that luxury.”

“But you could, Nola. You don’t have to work this hard, fight this hard.”

“It’s my home,” she whispered and looked down. “It’s all I have.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry replied. “You have friends and a family you never have time to visit and a gift for making beautiful music.”

“I have said what I came to say,” she said and her voice quavered as tears welled in her eyes.

Harry had to knot his hands into fists to keep from wrapping his arms around her. The idea surprised him so much that he turned away and she seized that moment to pull the door open, pinning him against the landing railing while she hurried across the chaotic construction site toward daylight.

He was recovering his senses and trying to decide whether or not to go after her or wait until she’d calmed down when
he saw a worker carrying one of the long wide planks intended for the stage floor on a collision course with Nola.

“Watch out!” he heard Horace shout just as the worker swung around, catching Nola full in the back of the head with the board.

She crumpled to the floor and lay there without moving. Workers from all sides of the room rushed to her aid. For an instant Harry’s heart seemed to stop beating. Only his brain hammered out a single rhythm.
Nola. Nola. Nola.

“Get a doctor,” Harry ordered and two of the men ran for the front entrance as he knelt next to her. “Nola?”

Nothing. Not a sound or a flinch. Her face was pale and relaxed as if she were simply taking a nap. Harry felt the kind of panic that comes with losing something precious, something you didn’t even know you valued. “Nola?” he shouted and touched her shoulder although he wanted to gather her in his arms.

“She’s breathing, boss,” Horace observed. “Maybe let her alone till the doc gets here. She’s gonna have one whopper of a headache, I’ll wager.”

Harry eased himself to a seated position on the dusty floor and took Nola’s hand in his. He pulled off her glove and stroked her fingers as he closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer up to Heaven that she would be all right.
Whatever Your plan, please, just let her be all right.

To his relief, he felt her fingers close around his.

N
ola had trouble getting her eyes to open and she certainly could not understand why she was flat on her back surrounded by men talking in low murmurs. Someone was holding her hand while someone else gently lifted her head and pressed a wad of fabric underneath to form a pillow. Everything smelled of unfinished wood and paint.

“Where’s that doctor?” she heard a familiar voice growl.

Starbuck.

She tried to call his name and managed only a low groan. Behind her closed eyes her head throbbed.

“She’s coming around,” someone said.

Then from some distance away she heard a stranger’s voice announce, “Here’s the doc. Get back to work, all of you.”

“Nola?”

She managed to open one eye and the first thing she saw was Harrison Starbuck’s handsome face swimming just above hers. He gave her a shaky smile but his eyes were dark with worry. “Lie still,” he ordered and Nola sighed. He did
have such an annoying habit of commanding others. Usually he did it with charm and even levity, but the way he was looking at her defied her to challenge him.

Reason enough, she decided, and struggled to sit up.

“Nola!” This time his voice was a shout and she grimaced as the sound ricocheted around the fierce pain in her head.

“There, there, Miss Burns,” a gentle female voice entreated. “Lie still so I can have a look.” Dr. Lois Wainwright and her sister ran the spa and homeopathic health facility just down the street from the tearoom. Nola had never had occasion to need their services until now, but she had heard high praise for their holistic approach to medicine and healing.

Comforted by the fact that she was in good hands, Nola collapsed back. She expected to find herself once again resting on the hard floor with its makeshift pillow that smelled of turpentine. Instead she was lying against the firm pillow of Harry’s chest. His breathing came in shallow but regular beats. When she turned her head so the doctor could examine the site of her injury, she found her cheek pressed against his shirt. The warmth emanating from beneath the soft fabric accompanied by the rhythmic beating of his heart soothed her.

“She’s going to recover, isn’t she? I mean, fully recover?” Starbuck asked.

“Let’s get her back to her house so I can conduct a more thorough examination,” Dr. Wainwright instructed. “I’d like her to lie flat for the time being. Could we borrow one of the wagons outside to transport her?”

Arrangements were hastily made, the men obviously relieved to have something concrete to offer. They brought another of the wide planks intended for the stage floor and gently moved Nola onto it, then carried her to the door and
outside. The driver of one of the work wagons was waiting and the sudden brightness of the sunlight made Nola cry out and throw her arm across her eyes. Immediately the light dimmed as if the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud. She squinted up and saw Harry holding his straw hat over her face like an umbrella. “Let’s go,” he barked, and the driver snapped the reins.

The ride was no more than a few blocks, but ’Sconset Sconset was a tight-knit community and even before the wagon stopped at the tearoom, a crowd had gathered.

“Nola, child,” she heard Judy Lang cry out. Then Nola heard Judy direct her distress at Harry. “What have you done?”

“I…It was an accident,” he sputtered. Nola smiled because he sounded so much like her brothers when they’d all been teenagers and defended themselves against their mother’s outrage.

“I apparently walked into a board,” Nola explained weakly, surprised to realize that she had more recollection of the incident than she had first thought. She frowned as the memory of her argument with Harry came back to her. “We’ll have to shut down the tearoom for a few days,” she told Judy. “You can’t do it all alone and Mr. Starbuck needs—”

“What
Mr. Starbuck
needs,” Judy huffed, “is to hold his horses. The world is not going to come to an end if he has to give up the reins for a few days.” Once again, she turned her ire on Harry. “These young people kicked out of Nola’s perfectly good rooms and moved into those musty old fishing shacks. What do you care where they sleep and more to the point, if they want to wait tables and such
on their own time
, I’d like to know how that is any of your business.”

This tirade accompanied the transport of Nola from the
dray, up the front walk and into her bedroom. Because Harry and the driver were carrying Nola on the makeshift gurney, he could hardly escape Judy’s rant. Since he was at her feet, Nola could see him and observe the fact that more than once he had opened his mouth to protest Judy’s accusations and then shut it again until now it formed a thin hard line across the lower half of his face.

Under the guidance of Dr. Wainwright, Harry and the driver transferred her onto the bed and the driver took the board and left the room.

“You come waltzing back into town thinking because you’ve made yourself a pile of money, people will forget all the mischief you used to get into when you were a kid,” Judy continued as she bustled about, removing Nola’s shoes, gloves and hat and setting them aside. “Seems to me you haven’t changed one bit. Still stirring up trouble and now see what it’s come to?”

“Perhaps, Mr. Starbuck,” the doctor said quietly, “it would be best if you waited in the outer room while I examine Miss Burns.”

Judy took this as her signal to escort Harry to the door and shut it firmly behind him.

“You mustn’t blame Harry,” Nola said softly when Judy returned to the side of the bed and followed the doctor’s lead in helping Nola sit up enough so that they could remove her jacket and loosen the rest of her clothing.

“You let me handle that young man and the rest of it,” Judy said, her voice soft and soothing now. “You just concentrate on following the doctor’s orders and getting your rest.”

It was a mark of how terrible Nola was feeling that this seemed like a good idea. She could barely focus on keeping her eyes open much less on how Judy was going to manage
the tearoom for the foreseeable future. She heard the doctor say that there was no sign of concussion, but fell back asleep before she could make heads or tails of the instructions about diet, medication and symptoms to watch for that the doctor was dictating to Judy.

When she woke, the doctor was gone. She was now dressed in her nightgown, her hair pulled into a loose braid. She vaguely recalled trying to cooperate as Ellie helped Judy change her into her nightclothes, but she’d been more like a rag doll than any real help. Outside it was still daylight but whether the same day or the next, Nola could not say. Beyond the closed door of her bedroom, she heard voices.

“I’ll be glad to say you called,” Ellie was telling someone.

“Young woman, do you have any idea who I am?” The unmistakable boom of Rose Gillenwater’s normal speaking voice penetrated the solid wood door. “Miss Nola’s mother was one of my dearest friends and since her passing—may God rest her soul—I have taken my responsibility to her children to heart. Now I have no idea why someone did not send for me the moment this happened yesterday morning, but I am here now and I will see her.”

So it was now Tuesday, Nola thought, realizing that she had lost an entire night and day. The tearoom, she thought. Judy can’t manage that and also care for me. Nola decided that she would get rid of Rose as quickly as possible and then see about getting some help for Judy.

“Ellie,” she called, her voice coming out in a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ellie, it’s all right.”

“There, you see,” Rose said dismissively as she opened the door and swept into the room. “Child, what were you thinking?” she demanded the moment she set eyes on Nola. “One simply does not—”

“Hello, Mrs. Gillenwater. How nice of you to come by. Have you and Mrs. Chambliss been formally introduced?” Nola indicated Ellie, who stood just inside the door, a worried frown marring her otherwise perfect features.

“Yes, yes.” Rose leaned closer and whispered, “I will see to organizing proper care for you the moment I leave here, Nola. In the meantime…”

“Oh, Rose, Ellie is not hired help—well, she is…was. But she’s quite famous in the New York theater. Aren’t we fortunate that she has decided to come here to ’Sconset and give us all the opportunity to enjoy her talents?”

Rose sniffed. “I’m sure she’s quite the star in certain circles,” she said with a token smile thrown in Ellie’s direction, “but hardly the person who should be attending you in your hour of need, dear Nola. I can’t imagine what Dr. Wainwright was thinking. I’ve asked Mr. Gillenwater to consult with our personal physician in the city—perhaps we should bring an authentic medical professional here to examine you.”

“I have been examined, Rose, and as you can see, I am improving hourly.” She pushed herself higher onto the pillows and immediately Ellie was there to adjust them to her comfort. “What I really need is for you and the other ladies of the church to use your considerable resources to help me find staffing for the tearoom as soon as possible. We may have had to close for a day or so, but…”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “The tearoom is open, Nola,” she said and frowned at Ellie. “I simply assumed that…”

Nola shot Ellie a glance.

“Harry told us to help out,” Ellie explained.

“Harry did that?” Nola asked.
For me?

“The man’s clearly feeling guilty for having been the cause of your injuries, Nola,” Rose announced, taking the glow off Nola’s pleasure by stating the obvious truth.

“Thank him for me,” Nola said to Ellie. “And tell him I’ll see to other arrangements as soon as possible.”

“Thank him yourself,” Ellie replied with a smile. “He comes by here practically every hour to be sure you’re all right.” She nodded toward a large vase filled with a display of spring flowers on her dresser. “He brought those on his last visit.”

“Guilt, guilt, guilt,” Rose murmured. “I shall tell Mr. Starbuck that his concern is unwarranted, Nola, and unseemly. You’re a single woman, after all.”

“And he’s a single man,” Ellie blurted, clearly not seeing the problem.

“Precisely,” Rose announced as if she had finally gotten through to Ellie. “I do not know—or care to know—how things are managed in your world, Mrs. Chambliss. In our social circle, there is a certain code of behavior that women like Nola must adhere to or risk losing not only their standing in the business community but the respect of the populace in general. This dear woman has already placed her spotless reputation in jeopardy for you people.” She bent and gave Nola a dry kiss on the forehead. “Do watch yourself, Nola. In your weakened state I would hate to see you mistake that rake’s attention for true concern.” Without so much as a glance at Ellie, Rose exited the room as if outside the door lay souls to be saved.

Nola glanced up apologetically at Ellie and was surprised when the actress burst into laughter. “She’s like a character out of a badly scripted play,” she managed between peals of laughter. Nola couldn’t help but join in, but before either
woman could recover from their fresh onset of mirth, Harry Starbuck stepped into the doorway.

“Feeling better?” He remained standing near the doorway while Ellie sat down in the rocker across the room and picked up some mending.

“Yes, thank you.” Nola pulled the covers higher. It was one thing to think of Harry in her bedroom when she was fully dressed, unconscious with a possible concussion and surrounded by others. It was quite something else to have him there with just Ellie as chaperone. She could just imagine what Rose Gillenwater would say.

Rose!
Harry had to have been standing outside the door when the older woman left. Rose would have seen him. And he in turn would have overheard the matriarch’s insults to Ellie.

“Has the doctor been by this afternoon?” he asked, glancing around the room, looking anywhere but directly at her.

Casual conversation? No, look at him. He seems upset.

“She was here,” Ellie said. “Nola is to try getting up for a little while beginning tomorrow. If that goes well, within a few days she should be good as new.”

Harry didn’t really seem to be paying attention. He was scowling, not at Ellie or her, but at the floor. Nola rushed to fill the silence. “Ellie tells me that you’ve given the troupe permission to help Judy until I can get back to work. I assure you that they’ll be free of me and this place within a few days.”

“There’s no reason we can’t rehearse in the morning and evening. Since I often have other business that needs attention, it’s a good plan, Nola.” Harry looked directly at her for the first time and studied her for so long that Nola could not bear his examination and turned her attention to the window.

“It appears to be a lovely day,” she said, all too aware that Harry had fully entered the room and was now sitting on the stool in front of her dressing table.

“Do you agree with the Gillenwater woman, Nola? Has your association with us truly damaged your reputation with the townspeople?”

Ellie glanced up for the first time but immediately returned to her sewing.

“Oh, Harry, no,” Nola assured him. “There are always going to be those who are overly protective, but they’ll come around in time.”