Norah's Ark Read online

  Having dinner with the owner of a restaurant is a considerably different experience than ordering one dessert and two spoons off the luncheon menu. Ziga’s is dark and embracing, especially by candlelight. I felt slightly out of place in my Norah’s Ark attire, but Connor didn’t seem to mind. Besides, anything Connor thinks is all right is acceptable to this staff. Most of the other tables were taken by couples, some in deep conversation, others gazing happily at each other through a candlelit haze. Me, I could hardly wait to get my hands on the bread basket.

  It was dark by the time we returned to the boat, but rather than start directly across the lake, Connor took us close to the shore and we glided slowly along admiring the beautiful lake homes. Maybe I should have been an interior decorator. I certainly love to see the beautiful vignettes framed in large windows, as we passed by. Or maybe I’m just a latent nosy Nelly. Either way, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten until we were tying up at the dock.

  “One minute to midnight?” I stared in horror at the large clock on a black-iron lamppost by the dock. Pond Street was still but for Barney, who was just closing up Barney’s Gas. “Thanks, Connor, for dinner, but I’ve got to run.”

  I think he spoke to me, but I was already racing toward home feeling like Cinderella running from the ball, her Prince Charming calling after her.

  I heard the shop phone ring, but because I was immersed, literally, in cleaning fish tanks, I let the answering machine pick up. I listened as I worked.

  Winky does a very nice job as my receptionist. “Norah’s Ark, may I help you…awwk…” he squawked on my answering machine. When we were taping it, I had to cut him off before he could use any of his more ribald or insulting language. No point telling a customer to take a long walk off a short pier or to go play in the street. Winky’s former owners endowed him with a unique vocabulary that makes him totally unacceptable for white-haired ladies who like to give teas.

  “Norah? Norah? Is that you?” Connor asked. “Is something wrong?” Apparently Winky and I sound alike to Connor.

  The only thing “wrong” was that I couldn’t reach the phone to ward him off. By the time I finished the tank I was working on, Connor had arrived on the doorstep.

  “Is everything okay in here?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

  “Great. Sorry about the answering machine. I’ve never had anyone think that Winky was me before.”

  The blush crawled up his neck and spread across his entire face. “That…that bird?”

  “He does rather well, don’t you think? It took about fifteen tries to get it right though. He kept adding ‘Stifle it’ to the end of the message which, I thought, was counterproductive. Don’t you?”

  Connor looked a little like I’d hit him in the face with a two-by-four. Finally he began to smile. “I came to check on you because of that thing?” He pointed an accusing finger at Winky, who didn’t even bother to quit preening his feathers or take his beak out of his birdy armpit. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “Did what?”

  Neither of us had noticed Lilly come into the shop, but there she was, a vision in scarlet—a red dress and a red hat pulled low over her eyes, something out of a 1940s Vogue magazine. Joan Crawford or Bette Davis maybe.

  Connor blinked as he looked from Lilly to me and back again. He could get fashion whiplash trying to make sense of the two of us.

  “Did what?” Lilly insisted. She strolled inside with a little more wiggle to her hips than usual, for Connor’s benefit, no doubt.

  “Connor called and got Winky’s message on my answering machine,” I said with a laugh. “Apparently he thought I was having a terminal case of strep throat or something because he came over to see what was wrong.”

  “Really.” Lilly’s tone was cool and disbelieving. When I glanced at her, she was staring at me appraisingly.

  “You tell her, Connor,” I urged. Why was everyone acting weird today?

  “Let’s just say I’m completely embarrassed,” Connor said, chagrined. “I heard…I thought…oh, never mind.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Glad you’re okay, Norah. Lilly, nice to see you.” And he escaped the shop.

  “You look lovely today, Lilly,” I said. “Very red. Did they move Valentine’s Day to July this year?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject, Norah.”

  “What subject? Do we even have a subject to change?”

  “Why was Connor here?”

  “Because of Winky. I told you….” Then a lightbulb flickered in my dim brain. “Okay, what’s wrong, Lilly? Spill it.”

  “I talked to Barney this morning.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “And he said he saw you and Connor on the dock at midnight.”

  “And from that you deduced…”

  “Norah, are you horning in on my territory?”

  “Lilly, am I hearing a hint of the green-eyed monster in your voice?”

  “I told you I was interested in him, Norah. I don’t get…”

  “You certainly don’t, you silly goose.” I gave up getting the fish tanks cleaned anytime in the near future. “Connor asked if I wanted to ride over to Ziga’s and have dinner. I went….”

  “Ziga’s?” Lilly sounded shocked. “That’s the most romantic place on the lake!”

  “It’s also his family kitchen, and I don’t think he views it as anything else. We had a bite to eat and came back.” I stared her down. “And there was no funny business. I’d planned to tell you about it this morning.”

  For the first time, Lilly’s shoulders relaxed and I realized how on edge she’d been as the tension drained out of her. “Sorry. I just…you know.”

  “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” I rubbed her shoulder and she leaned into the pressure.

  “I’m used to guys falling all over me, Norah. Connor doesn’t. He’s pleasant and polite, but not, you know…”

  Actually, I don’t know. Men rarely fall all over me unless they’ve tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. Still, I tried to comprehend.

  “And because he’s not fawning over you, he makes you nervous. That makes you like him even more. Great psychological ploy if you can pull it off.”

  Lilly needed to see this wasn’t just about Connor and me but was about her own self-esteem issues, as well. She was blowing this incident between Connor and me totally out of proportion.

  Something must have rung a bell in her head. “I’ve never felt this way before. I’m even jealous of my best friend. I’m sorry, Norah.”

  Of course Lilly has never been rejected or overlooked, because it is virtually impossible to do so. It would be like ignoring the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.

  “Is there any chance that the main reason you’re interested in Connor is because he hasn’t asked you out?”

  Lilly tossed her head and I saw that some of her old fire was back. “Don’t be silly.” Then she faltered. “Well, maybe. I just felt something for him the first time I saw him and he really doesn’t seem to know I’m around!”

  “Give it time,” I soothed. “And don’t worry about me. You…and Joe…know better than anyone that I’m not in the market right now.”

  Lilly softened and threw her arms around me. “I don’t know what got into me. Sorry. I’d trust you with my life, so I should certainly trust you with Connor.”

  The subject didn’t come up again, but I felt an uneasiness in my stomach that hadn’t been there before.

  Chapter Ten

  Barney, it seems, is a highly efficient communicator. So effective, in fact, that he “communicated” all up and down Pond Street the news that he’d seen me with Connor on a Tuesday night. Fifteen years ago when I was living under my parents’ roof, I wasn’t any more heavily monitored than I am now. Small-town living—gotta love it, gotta hate it.

  Joe gave me a speculative once-over when I entered the Java Jockey, but as I ordered a caramel mocha with an extra shot of espresso and heavy on the whipped cream o
n top, I put his mind at rest. “A spur-of-the-moment boat ride,” I said, before he could even think of asking. “Innocent, innocuous, pleasant and definitely not worth the press that Barney is giving it. The man needs a new hobby.”

  Joe grinned and set my three-million-calorie cup of coffee in front of me. “Thanks, but I wasn’t even going to ask.”

  I had a sudden urge to hug him. He, at least, trusted me.

  “Lilly was upset,” I confided. “She has her eye on Connor and I got into her line of sight.”

  “She told me. She also said she was feeling ashamed of herself for acting so silly. Now I think she’s hoping you’ll set her up on a blind date.”

  “Since when did you two become confidants?” I teased, surprised but nevertheless glad Lilly had Joe to talk to.

  “Since yesterday.” As Joe smiled his dark eyes warmed and with his forefinger brushed a curl from my eyes. “I know how she feels, Norah. When you’re in love, you just act crazy sometimes.”

  I sighed and pulled a stool up to the counter. “How can you fall in love after one quick look at someone?”

  He studied me with such intensity that I had to look away. “I did.”

  “Joe, don’t….”

  “Well, I did. How can you help falling in love with someone with so much curly black hair coming out of the top of her head that you mistake her for a fountain? Someone who smiles like a thousand-watt bulb? Someone who carries her dog to work because the pavement is too hot for his feet?”

  “Only in August. When they were tarring driveways on my street,” I reminded him. “And can I help it that Bentley likes it?”

  “If I’m going to be jealous, Bentley is my target, not Connor Trevain.”

  “Now you’re talking common sense.” I pushed my cup toward him. “Put a little regular old plain Jane coffee in this, will you? I have to dilute the calories somehow.” When I left, I surprised and pleased Joe by putting my arms around him and giving him a big squeeze. He’s got to be one of the sweetest men on the planet.

  Because Annie had everything handled at the Ark, I decided to stop at Auntie Lou’s Antiques for a visit. There, I stepped into another world, one made up of painted crockery, sewing machines powered by foot pedals, platform rockers, Victorian settees, kerosene lamps, old framed pictures of somber-looking children and vintage toys. An antique bedstead, washstand, basin, pitcher, the hand-tatted linens and a selection of beautiful pillows were displayed in a vignette near the front of the store.

  Though one wouldn’t know it to look at her, Auntie Lou has a sharp eye for design and unerring good taste. She is, in fact, one of the smartest businesswomen I know.

  “Lou?” I called. “Love the new sideboard. How old is it? Lou?”

  The fat—and getting fatter—Silas was bathing on a rocking chair near the cash register—also vintage—but Auntie Lou was nowhere in sight. Calling her name several times, I went into the storeroom where she keeps extra inventory. The room appeared empty but for some garden statuary, a collection of birdbaths and stacks of boxes filled with items to sell. Then I heard a rustle in the far corner.

  “Lou? Are you there?”

  “Norah?” The voice was a whisper.

  “It’s me. Where are you and what are you doing?” I headed toward the location of the voice. I passed several boxes labeled China and Linens before I saw Auntie Lou sitting on a spindly ice-cream-parlor chair rubbing her knee and sporting a black eye.

  “What on earth?”

  “Shh.” She held a finger to her lips. “Not so loud. I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “Know what? That you were mugged? Or had a fistfight with an unidentified stranger?”

  “That I fell again.”

  That brought me up short. “Again?”

  “I tripped on something, a broomstick lying on the floor. And on my way down, I connected with the corner of a box of lamp shades. Lamp shades! Of all things. No one gets hurt by lamp shades!”

  “No one but you. You’re developing a real shiner. Do you want me to get you some ice? Or a slab of red meat?”

  “Ice, dear. I’ve given up red meat.”

  After I settled her in one of her many rockers and found a plastic sandwich bag to fill with ice for her eye, I took a seat across from her. “What happened this time?”

  “Same as last. I think I can do something and then find out I can’t.” She looked furious with herself. “After I’ve fallen over like a silly old woman.”

  “You aren’t silly,” I advised her.

  “No? But I am as old as dirt, dearie, and it’s beginning to show.” Her eyes flashed. “Why’d God save the hardest part for last, do you think?”

  Old age isn’t for sissies. My grandparents, once a robust farm couple, now have a social life that revolves primarily around doctor appointments and conversations that center on the price of prescription medicine. They hate it, but they keep going, fighting back. They also attribute their success to Friday night bowling and leading a group at church, counseling young marrieds on how to have the kind of life my grandparents have. They are as in love as the day they were married and they give God all the credit. Grandpa also gives a little credit to “selective hearing” which, he says, filters out nagging and complaining but amplifies loving words.

  “What are we going to do about you, Lou?” I asked. “I’m beginning to worry.”

  “Pretend it didn’t happen. Two little incidents do not a problem make.” Lou looked at me intently. “Right?”

  “But if you’re falling…”

  Auntie Lou put a finger to her lips. “Not a word to anyone, Norah. Promise? I don’t want to be known as that stumbling old lady on Pond Street. What’s more, I don’t want anyone to think that I can’t run this store or be left alone at night. Too many people think the words old and incompetent go together.” Her voice pitched higher. “And because the only way anyone will get me to leave this store is feetfirst, when I’m already with the Lord!”

  My mouth worked but no words came out.

  Auntie Lou took my hand and I felt her warm, papery skin as she patted my wrist. “I don’t want anyone thinking it’s time for me to give up and go into one of those retirement homes.”

  “You, retire?” I must have looked aghast. “Never!”

  “I’m glad you agree with me. Now, then, this ice reminds me there’s no need to let it go to waste, would you like a glass of lemonade?”

  When I finally got back to the store, Annie was sitting behind the desk, staring at a pile of mail.

  “Why do you look so serious?” I picked up a kitten to give it a cuddle. His new owner would be in to get him later this afternoon.

  “I can’t figure something out.” Annie picked up a bill and waved it in the air. “You got another bill from Fur and Feathers.”

  “The pet food supplier? I paid them a couple weeks ago.”

  “I know. But they don’t indicate that it has been paid. It’s marked Past Due.”

  “Maybe the check and bill crossed in the mail.” Annie loves to do bookwork and I’m lukewarm about the numbers thing, so I appreciate her help. “I remember signing the check. We could call and see if there’s something we need to straighten out….”

  “I did already. They say that they never received the check, Norah. They’re insistent upon it.”

  “Then where did it go?” I put the kitten down. “Lost Letter heaven?”

  “I wish.” Annie’s lips pulled downward.

  “You do?” I took the bill from her hand and studied it. I’ve never had trouble paying my bills on time. In fact, I pride myself on being prompt.

  “I called the bank and the check has cleared.”

  “Then send a copy to Fur and Feathers so we can get this straightened out.”

  “Norah, the check that cleared isn’t written to Fur and Feathers. It’s written for Cash to a bank in the city.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They asked if we mailed our letters from the post offic
e.”

  “Why do that when we have a perfectly good mailman pick them up outside our door?” I like the little cast-iron mailbox hanging by the front door. I found it at Auntie Lou’s. It makes me feel as though we’ve stepped back in time when I raise the little red flag to signal to our postman to stop for a letter.

  “The bookkeeper for Fur and Feathers suggested we quit using the box. Apparently it’s not a good idea. Check stealing, identity theft, that sort of thing.”

  “What’s becoming of this world!” I blurted then stopped cold. Was that my mother’s voice coming out of my mouth? How many times had I heard her say that over the years when calamities and tragedies happened around the country? And now it was me saying it, because it’s not safe to use my own mailbox outside my own store on a street full of neighbors who watch out for one another. Too sad.

  Instead of voicing the opinions that would put me out of Annie’s age bracket and into that of my mother’s, I said, “So what do we do now?”

  “Call the police?” Annie offered hopefully. “Or the FBI?”

  “Or stop payment on that check.”

  “Can’t. It’s too late. It’s cleared, remember? You’ll still have to pay Fur and Feathers whether you get that money back or not. Do you want me to write another four-hundred-dollar check?”

  I felt a rush of blood to my ears. I work hard for my money. Harder than most, considering that the items I stock in my store need feeding, brushing and major cleaning up after. Four hundred dollars to me is a healthy piece of change.

  “I need to report this to someone,” I muttered. “I can’t afford to have this happen again.”

  “Looks like you’re in luck.” Annie waved a hand toward the window.

  I turned to see Nick on the sidewalk outside the Ark, talking to Chuck from the grocery store. They were both waving at the ice-cream truck, which was already chiming its musical tune as it drove down the street. I stomped out to join them.