a-soft-place-to-fall - Rakhibul hasan (story books to read .TXT) 📗

of woman Hall Talbot dated and married and she wasn't anything like them. Both of his wives were small-boned, well-dressed, and perfectly groomed. Annie, at best, managed charmingly rumpled two or three times a year. Not that it mattered because she didn't feel that way about Hall. She wasn't blind to the fact that he was a very handsome man, but her heart didn't do back flips when she looked at him and it never would.

There were people who said that sort of thing didn't matter and sometimes she wondered if maybe they were right. Her heart had done back flips and cartwheels when she looked at Kevin and see how that had ended up. Still, what was the point to love if it didn't make you feel like you could fly? You might as well live alone.

Her brief interlude with Max's owner had been a powerful reminder of how wonderful it could be.

"How bad's your car?" Hall asked between mouthfuls of pizza.

"Remember how Susie's house looked after her big Y2K party?" He nodded. "Add dog spit and you're close."

"He's paying for the clean-up, isn't he?" "He offered to pay for the pizza."

"He should've offered to pay for the wreck his dog left behind."

"I'm sure he would have," she said, "but, if you recall, we left before he came back to his truck." I should have helped him look for his dog. Why didn't I tell you to go on without me?

Hall looked unconvinced. "He was probably hiding in the woods, waiting for you to leave."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "A bit harsh, aren't you? You don't even know the man."

"I know the type."

"Really, Hall," she said, astonished by his over-the-top response. "You sound like his dog smeared pizza all over your upholstery instead of mine."

"My mistake," he said, his manners reasserting themselves. "You're right. It's not like you'll run into him again, is it?"

No, she thought as she headed back into the kitchen for more pizza. Not very likely at

all.

#

Sam drove out to Warren Bancroft's house at the far side of town. Warren had been called down to New York on business but he left the keys to Sam's temporary digs with Pete and Nancy, the couple who had been taking care of the place for the last twenty years. Unfortunately Pete and Nancy had decided to drive into town for some ice cream and it was nearly nine o'clock by the time they returned to find Sam and Max asleep on the front step.

"Well, look who's here!" Nancy said, dragging a drowsy Sam into her embrace. She hugged him then pushed him slightly away so she could peer into his face. "Too skinny and too tired. We'll take care of that while you're in town."

"You never change," Sam said, hugging her back. "You're the same shy woman I met almost twenty years ago." He had been seventeen at the time, filled with ambition and ready to see the world. He had signed on as part of Warren's crew for the summer and had spent two weeks right there at Shelter Rock Cove before sailing down to Key West.

Pete, never one for small talk, shook Sam's hand then dug out the keys. "Watch out for the plumbing," he warned. "Ellie never was good at keeping up with repairs." He patted Max then went inside.

"Annie Galloway moved into the house down the road from you today," Nancy said when the door swung shut behind her husband. "She's a widow, real nice gal. If you need any names or phone numbers, she's the one to go to."

He imagined a weathered New Englander, much like Nancy herself, who could probably cope with just about anything life threw her way. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You might want to introduce yourself. Just two houses on that road. Might settle her down some, knowing there's a man she can turn to."

A sinking feeling settled itself in the pit of his stomach. The last thing he needed right now was to have anyone depending on him for anything.

"So how's the boat coming along?" he asked, changing the subject. "Has he made any progress?" Warren Bancroft's dream had been to build a museum as a memorial to Shelter Rock Cove fishermen who had lost their lives to the sea and that dream was scheduled to come true next spring.

"He works too hard down there," Nancy said with a shake of her head. "Do him good if he spent more time working on his boat and less on his payrolls."

They walked around back to the old barn that Warren had turned into a boat builder's paradise. Long planks of unblemished wood. Buckets of nails. Hammers in all sizes and shapes hung from hooks on the wall next to saws, hasps, clamps. Two table saws were pushed up against the back wall next to a special steamer used to shape straight planks into graceful curves designed to glide through the water.

And there in the middle of it all was the Sally B, the lobster boat his father had used right up until the day he died. She was in sorry shape right now: half of her hull was in the process of being restored by Warren and had been for almost as long as Sam could remember. Warren's sister Ellie had remarked that the restoration reminded her of Penelope at her loom, a reference Warren and Sam had to look up in the Britannica.

"He hasn't touched it since I was up here at Easter," Sam said, running his hand along the sharp edge of the keel. The third Mrs. Bancroft might have been right. "He'll never get it finished if he doesn't put in the time."

Nancy shot him a look that was sharper than a bandsaw. "You don't think you're up here to watch the snow fall, do you? He'll put you to work proper."

"There's a good four months of eight-hour days left on this baby," he said. "I think that works out to sixteen blueberry pies."

Nancy's narrow face broke apart with her smile. If the way to a man's heart was his stomach, the way to a cook's heart was through her blueberry pies.

"I have half a pie on the counter right now," she said, bending down to scratch Max behind the ear. "You look like you could use a little sustenance."

"I'd better push on to the cottage, Nance. I've been on the road since the crack of dawn and I'm ready to crash."

The old woman linked her arm through his and walked him to the truck. "You're sure you can find the place on your own now? It gets wicked dark around here at night."

"I remember how dark it gets." The difference between Shelter Rock Cove and Bayside, Queens could have been measured in light years instead of miles. The teenaged Sam had been pretty sure he'd landed on another planet. "I have the map Warren faxed me," he said and they both laughed.

"A map won't do you much good in the dark. Maybe I should drive you down there. Wouldn't want you rolling into the water now, would we?"

It took another five minutes to convince her that he was capable of finding his way to his new home. She wanted him to call her when he got in and only the fact that his phone service wasn't turned on yet made her back down. His mother had been the same way, watching over each member of her brood as if nobody else on earth mattered. He had the feeling she would have been every bit as zealous today over her adult children.

"Been one hell of a day, Max," he said as they made their way along the twisting road that led to the beach. "Too bad you had to take off after that squirrel."

He had wanted to square things with the woman with the sad blue eyes and, if he was being completely honest, square things with himself as well. It seemed he had been leaving nothing but loose ends behind these last few months. Something about her had reached deep into his soul, far deeper than a casual encounter in a parking lot would justify. He had felt a connection, a sense of rightness, that he'd never known before.

Who are you kidding, Butler? She's married. You saw the guy. You saw the married way they talked to each other.

That still didn't change the way he'd felt when she turned around and looked up at him. There was something in her eyes, something in the sound of her voice, that seemed familiar. As if he'd waited his whole life to meet her.

"I take it all back, Max," he said as he rounded a tight curve. "You did me a favor back there." Max's squirrel-chasing stunt had broken the spell long enough for Sam to regain some perspective. He was pretty sure he would see her again. Shelter Rock Cove was a small town and sooner or later their paths were bound to cross. Maybe then he could undo some of the damage Max caused and prove to himself that the churned-up feeling inside his chest was nothing more than a blip on his radar screen..

A thick, hubcap-level fog was rolling right across the narrow, twisting road and he focused his concentration on keeping the Trooper from a close encounter with the run-off ditch that ran parallel. Winter driving must be a bitch. Good thing he was free to head south when the New Year rolled around.

Next to him Max whimpered twice and nudged Sam's arm, the dog's signal that a quick stop might not be a bad idea.

"Not here, buddy," Sam said as he switched on his high beams. "Just wait. We'll be home before you know it."

#

By eight o'clock the last of Annie's helpers had left and she was alone in her new home for the first time. "Make sure you eat something," Claudia cautioned her. "You haven't had a bite since breakfast."

Annie promised her mother-in-law she would heat up a slice or two of leftover pizza before she went to bed then locked the door behind her. She had been starving a few hours ago but now she was too tired to think much beyond a warm bath and sleep.

The boxes were all unpacked and neatly broken down and stacked out back for recycling. Her dishes and glassware were washed, dried, and put away in the cupboards. Her books lined the living room shelves and her television was hooked up and working. Most of her clothes were still draped across the sleigh bed, mainly because nobody wanted to walk across her mattress to reach the closet by the window, but that was okay. She wasn't in any rush.

"I think I love it," she said to George and Gracie who were crouched in the bedroom doorway. They looked up at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I think we're going to be very happy here."

Gracie chose that moment to hack up a hairball the size of a wonton.

"Tell me how you really feel," Annie muttered as she cleaned up after the feline. Unlike Gracie, it had been hard for Annie to know how she felt with the place

crammed with people and noise and more opinions than you could shake a stick at. But now that she was alone, she knew she had made the right decision. This was her home. This was where she belonged. She loved the bleached wood floors, the whitewashed walls, the tiny stone fireplace, the double-hung windows, the old-fashioned clawfoot tub so deep you could almost float in it. Sure it would take a while to buy things like chairs and a sofa and a kitchen table but those were small considerations. She had paid off all of Kevin's gambling debts and she owned the roof over her own head and, knowing Warren

Bancroft, that roof probably