must be in," the barber said as he
slapped lime cologne onto Harrison Starbuck's freshly shaved
cheeks. "There goes Miss Nola. Set your watch by that
woman." He spoke of her as if she were some island
institution or a bit of a legend. By Harry's calculations
she couldn't be more than thirty. He'd gone to school with
the Burns brothers, two boisterous lads who were incredible
athletes but not very good students as he recalled. Was she
older than the boys or younger? He couldn't remember. The
day after he'd graduated Starbuck had left for New York and
he'd lost touch with her brothers.
He paid the barber and stepped outside, taking shelter from
the drizzle under the awning over the bookstore. Down the
street, her face hidden by the large black umbrella but her
no-nonsense stride unmistakable, Nola Burns continued on her
way like a crusader on a mission.
Harry considered his next move. He'd had his eye on the
property that housed Miss Nola's Tearoom. With the owner
out, maybe he could get Judy Lang, who did the baking for
the tearoom, to show him around. The truth was Nola Burns
intimidated himβalways had. Judy Lang, on the other hand,
was a talker and even at age sixty or more, still a bit of a
flirt. She would no doubt let slip problems the tearoom had
suffered, perhaps a leaky roof or faulty plumbing. All
fodder for giving Starbuck the upper hand when it came to
negotiating. He strolled across the street and tried the door.
Locked. Harry stared at the silver door handle then
scratched his jaw. No one in'Sconset ever locked a door, not
even shopkeepers out on an errand. They might post a Back in
Five Minutes sign, but they did not lock up except at night.
He frowned and walked the length of the wide front porch
that overlooked the town's main street. Then he followed the
porch around to the side of the mansion. On a clear day, the
vista now obscured by fog and mist was the best view of the
Atlantic on the island. The thud of the waves hitting the
beach several feet below the bluff reminded him that if the
sun were out, he'd be looking beyond the horizon toward the
next land any sailor would seeβthe coast of Spain.
As the new century approached, tourism had firmly
established itself as Nantucket's economic bread and butter.
Below stood the railroad station where vacationers fresh off
the steamer in Nantucket Town would soon arrive in droves
for their holiday in 'Sconset. They could either walk to the
stairway that climbed up to the top of the bluff or hire one
of the surreys or drays waiting at the station. Either way,
when they got to the top, the first major structure they saw
was Miss Nola's Tearoom. He took a moment to light his
cigar, shielding the match from the salty sea breeze and
slackening rain. Yes, this was the perfect location.
"May I help you?"
There was not an ounce of warmth in the female voice that
came unexpectedly from behind Starbuck. When he turnedβ a
smile firmly planted on his faceβNola Burns stood as stiff
and rigid as a marble lawn statue not two steps from him.
Starbuck was pretty sure that in all the time he'd spent in
'Sconset, he'd never been this close to her. They had little
in common beyond attending the same church where she played
the organ and he sang in the choir. And while he was sure he
had acknowledged her in passing, she rarely hung around long
enough after services to socialize. Had he ever engaged her
in casual conversation surely he would have noticed the skin
like alabaster, the full mouth that she appeared to be an
expert at taming into a precise thin line, and those
eyesβfiery, dramatic, and black as a starless Nan-tucket
night. It occurred to him that onstage her features would be
quite an asset in communicating the drama of any production.
But he suspected that Nola Burns, like many in the small
village, disapproved of the growing presence of a colony of
actors and musicians who had discovered the pleasures of
summer in 'Sconset. Since Starbuck was also a summer
resident and involved in a variety of theatrical
enterprises, he was used to being cast in the same mode by
some of the locals. On the other hand, he'd always had some
success in winning over dissenters with his charm and wit,
so he removed his hat and widened his grin. "Caught me," he
admitted with a smile, the true power of which he'd
discovered at age fifteen. More than once he'd been told
that his smileβa little shy with a touch of cockinessβcould
send any woman's heart into the kind of palpitations that
had her thinking she had laced her corset far too tight that
morning.
Nola Burns's breathing did not change one iota. "Well?" she
demanded.
Starbuck decided to take another path. He thrust out his
hand. "Harrison Starbuck, ma'am, although everybody calls me
Harry or just Starbuck. I knew yourβ¦"
His hand hung there in midair, ignored and rejected. "I know
who you are. What is it that you want, Mr. Starbuck?"
Strike two.
He withdrew his hand and straightened to his full height, a
head and then some taller than the petite Miss Burns. From
what he could see of her hair beneath the ugly little
bonnet, it was not the premature gray he had thought. It was
platinumβalmost like spun silver. Fascinated at the contrast
of the onyx eyes and the pale hair, he had to resist the
urge to touch the wisp that fell against one ear. Instead he
rolled his cigar between his fingers, dropping ash onto the
floorboards of the porch as he placed it back in his mouth
and drew on it. He lifted his chin and slowly exhaled so
that the smoke formed a halo over her head. "I've heard that
you're a shrewd businesswoman, Miss Burns, and I came to
discuss a proposition that may interest you."
"My business is not for sale," she snapped.
"Well, now, ma'am, I'm not exactly cut out for operating a
tearoom." He chuckled.
Nothing.
Since she appeared to have a lot in common with every
spinster schoolmarm he'd ever encountered, he tried the
tactic that had worked on teachers preparing to thrash him
when he was in school. He ducked his head and murmured, "If
you'll just give me a moment of your time, Iβ¦"
"It's a small town, Mr. Starbuck. Everyone knows that you
have your sights set on my property. Apparently you plan to
tear it down or completely renovate it to accommodate some
fancy inn for entertaining your business associates and
their wives. My late father, Captain Elijah Burns,
personally designed this house. Our family has lived here
for decades. For these last several years, it has not only
been my home, but also my livelihood. It is not for sale."
Harry fought his irritation at her presumptuous attitude.
"You might at least want to hear me out," he said, clamping
down hard on his cigar.
"Let me be perfectly clear about this, Mr. Starbuck. I do
not approve of games of chance or other frivolous
entertainment that has people spending money they cannot
afford in order toβ"
"Games of chance?" He studied her for any hint that she
might be joking, then the light dawned and he laughedβa
sound that clearly irritated her. "You think the cabaret
we're putting up down the road there will offer gambling?"
For the very first time she looked a bit flustered. Starbuck
realized that Nola Burns prided herself on having her facts
straight and filed that bit of insight away for future
reference.
"Well, won't it?" she demanded. "Gambling and alcoholic
beverages?"
"No, ma'am." He leaned a bit closer and continued to puff on
his cigar. "I'm surprised your sources haven't set you
straight well before this. The town fathers have been quite
clear on that point. The cabaret is a kind of a clubhouse
where the locals and tourists can enjoy family entertainment
and sporting events such as tennis and badminton and
croquet. In the evenings they can take in a lecture, recital
or variety show. In fact, the opening night program will be
the debut of a new play. Wholesome entertainment for all
ages." He turned so that they were standing side by side
looking out toward the shore. "Think of it, Miss Nola," he
said, lowering his voice as he extended his arm to encompass
the span of coast before them. "It's going to attract a
whole new class of tourists beyond those who come for their
health or with their families. It's going to bring in folks
with money, Miss Burns, lots of money and they are going to
want a place to stay that will give them the kind of privacy
and charm they expect when they travel."
He could see that he had piqued her interest although she
was waging a mighty battle to squelch that curiosity. She
eyed him warily. "There are already hotels."
"Perhaps if you knew meβ¦" he said at the same moment.
Big mistake. He had broken the mood he had so carefully
created. Nola pursed her lips. "I have already said that I
know exactly who and what you are, Mr. Starbuck." She took a
step back and looked him square in the eye. "You are
relatedβ quite distantly, but convenientlyβto John Starbuck,
one of the island's founding fathers. You turned your back
on the island as a youth and began visiting around the same
time several others connected with the theater discovered
our island. Now those short visits have stretched to stays
of the entire season and you have established an entire
enclave ofβ¦"
"Why, Miss Burns, other than Alistair Gillenwater, I wasn't
aware that 'Sconset had an established enclave of
businessmen and entrepreneurs like me. Please do go on."
Her lips tightened until they nearly disappeared altogether.
"I am speaking of your dealings with the theater, Mr.
Starbuck. Rumor has it that you have written a new play that
you are anxious to preview in a reading for the opening of
your cabaret."
"Well, now, miss, it's not really my cabaret. I've
just had the privilege of putting the deal together for a
number of investors and community leaders whoβ¦"
"Yes. No doubt you saw an opportunity to trade on that
family name and enhance your fortune, which is rumored to be
impressive."
Starbuck chuckled. "People tend to exaggerate suchβ¦"
"At the moment, the town fathers have entrusted you with the
construction of this place you refer to as the cabaret down
there at the end of town. But they have not to my knowledge
given you carte blanche to concoct a way to further enhance
your own fortune by purchasing my property."
"Are you done?" Starbuck was rapidly losing patience with
this prim littleβ¦
"I also know you are quite fond of the ladies and they of
you, if local gossip can be believed. And furthermore you
are quite used to charming your way into whatever strikes
you as the most interesting business or social
'proposition.'" She pulled the cigar from his fingers and
stamped it out in a concrete urn filled with sand at the
corner of the porch. "What more should I know, Mr.
Starbuck?" she asked.
Starbuck couldn't help feeling a twinge of respect mixed
with annoyance. "Well, now, I should point out that I have
put a considerable amount of my own money into the
construction of the cabaret, which has cut into my adequate
but hardly impressive finances. And that was an expensive
cigar, Miss Burns."
"You can surely afford another cigar. I, on the other hand,
cannot afford to have my home and business burn down." She
made her point by using the toe of her shoe to grind out an
already dead ash that had fallen to the porch floor. "Now if
you'll excuse me, this is my time to go through my mail
before I attend to the marketing for the day."
In spite of his annoyance with her, he had to fight to hide
his smile. "Your time? The market appoints times? I never
knew that."
"I appoint the time, sir. I am a busy woman and I really
don't wish to waste any more of your time." She
stepped aside, indicating that she was waiting for him to
leave the premises.
As he started to take his leave, Starbuck had a moment's
pity for the woman. He was quite sure he'd never in his life
met a woman more in need of a real friend and confidante
than this one. And he was immediately stupefied by the very
notion that befriending this little prude should occur to
him at all. "You have a good day, ma'am," he said, fighting
hard to hang on to the last vestiges of his charm as he
brushed past her.
That's when he caught a whiff of his favorite flower, lily
of the valley.
He paused and glanced around for the source of the small
white bell-like blossoms hidden beneath draped green leaves,
but the flowerbeds running the length of the porch featured
only hydrangea bushes not yet in bloom. The scent was coming
from her. Starbuck pulled out a fresh cigar from his pocket.
So the lady had at least one vanity. "Enjoy your day, Miss
Nola," he murmured as he moved closer than necessary to get
past her. She stiffened and this time her breathing
definitely changed. Starbuck tipped his hat and bathed her
in the full radiance of his triumphant smile.
Nola was well aware of the stunts a much younger Harry
Starbuck had pulled in order to get around his parents and
his teachers whenever he wanted something. He could be
downright innocent when he chose. Her older brothers had
thought the sun rose and set on him and her younger sister
had hoped to attract his notice, like just about every other
single female on the island. Now as a businessman, Harrison
Starbuck had returned and was using those very same charms
to acquire the village's backing for his various
enterprises. The proposed cabaret was just the latest of a
long list of ventures he had persuaded others were
necessary. "We have to be able to hold our own with
Nantucket Town," one merchant had told her. "Starbuck has
connections. According to him, 'Sconset could be the place
folks go for entertainment on the island and that means
money coming into town." She, on the other hand, was
perfectly content with the way things were. Men like Harry
Starbuck were always looking for ways to turn an even
greater profit.
Such arrogance, Nola thought.
On the other hand, no oneβeven those who disapproved of his
plans to stage plays and other entertainment in the
villageβever seemed to question his ability to do it all and
do it well. Nola could not deny that the growing population
of summer guests had been good for her business. Still, it
was one thing when tourists came for health reasons or even
to take a short respite from the sweltering heat of summer
in a large city. But how could theater people who were
dependent on seasonal work afford such a luxury? She had to
admit that the actors who had summered in 'Sconset so far
seemed nice enough whenever Nola saw them on the street, and
since not one of them had ever frequented her tearoom, there
had been no real reason for concern. Still, Nola had been
raised to believe that people who worked in the theater were
not the sort of people one associated with on a regular basis.
"It's a question of upbringing and lifestyle," town
matriarch, Rose Gillenwater, had stated earlier that spring
as she held court in the tearoom. "It's unseemly the way
they rent those cottages all clustered together and move
freely between them as if they are all part of some larger
family. The very fact they have coined the term 'the colony'
to label their living quarters must be held up to question.
These people often tour the countryβtraveling together,
staying in hotelsβall without proper supervision. Well, one
must assume there are certain temptations."
"But, Mother, surely you can't condemn an entire group by
the actions of a few," Rose's daughter, Violet, had protested.
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