a-soft-place-to-fall, Rakhibul hasan [novels to read in english .txt] 📗

any job ever made him as happy as that one? Closing deals for a million and more never once gave him the rush of happiness he'd found when he was up to his elbows in marine grease and loving every minute of it.

Maybe that's how he'd end up, fixing boats at some broken-down marina, his fingernails stained permanently black, his skin smelling of sea spray, his bank balance hovering around zero. There were worse ways for a man to spend his life, especially if he had the right woman to share his days and nights with.

But what the hell did he have to offer a woman these days. Six months ago he could have made a case for himself: great car, great apartment, great prospects. Now he had even less than Annie Galloway. Annie owned her house and her business. He was owned by an aging yellow Lab.

"You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders," Warren observed as they headed back to Shelter Rock Cove. "Anything I should know about?"

"I think you need transmission fluid," Sam said as he switched lanes. "This old Jeep needs more babying than you give it." He slowed down behind a sluggish Audi. "Think it might be time to spring for something built in the last decade?"

"Wiseass," Warren said amiably. "So are you going to tell me what's really going on or will you make me beat it out of you."

Sam laughed out loud. "You don't think I'm dumb enough to take you up on the latter, do you?" Warren had been an amateur boxer at one point in his youth and he still maintained an impressive set of biceps.

"You'll figure it out," Warren said, "whatever it is."

"Yeah?" He shot Warren a look. "Think I'll manage it before I'm your age?" "Not if the problem is a woman."

There was no arguing that.

"How about we stop along the way for a steak and baked potato?" Warren suggested. Sam glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 6:35 p.m. Annie was supposed to meet

the Town Doctor at seven for dinner.

He was maybe thirty minutes away from Shelter Rock Cove. It was fate.

"I'm thinking lobster," he said, knowing Warren would understand. "I heard about some place called Cappy's . . . . "

#

"Now that was a wonderful seminar," Roberta said as she and Claudia strolled across the parking lot of the Bangor Holiday Inn. "That boy must have kissed the Blarney Stone somewhere along the way."

"He's young enough to be our grandson," Claudia said with a shake of her head. "So smart! Do they make them smarter these days, Bobbi, or does it just seem that way?"

"It's all those Flintstone vitamins," Roberta said, adjusting the strap on her purse so it angled just so across her pillowy breasts. "Imagine how smart we would've been if we'd had half of the advantages our children had."

Oh, there was truth enough to that statement, Claudia thought as Roberta drove them back toward Shelter Rock Cove. Today's young people had no idea what it was like to scrimp and save for every penny. They expected to step out of school and into some fancy, high-paying job and that was usually exactly what happened.

Back in her day, you had considered yourself lucky to find a position and you clung to it until the day you retired. It was a whole different world that Adam Winters painted for them during the four hour seminar. "Don't think it's too late to influence the future," he had said to them as he strode the aisles, aiming his snowy- white smile right at Claudia and Roberta and other women just like them. "Americans are living longer than ever before and their standard of living is growing right along with them. Why shouldn't you be part of the golden age of seniors and grab a piece of the American pie for yourself?"

Why, indeed. Everything the young man had said made perfect sense to Claudia. She and John had worked very hard for their money and she had watched over it carefully since his death. The house was paid for – that was a blessing – and she owned her own car. Her health insurance was adequate but all it would take was one serious illness to put a dent in what remained of her nest egg. She was comfortable but she wasn't secure and Adam Winters said she had the right to be both or know the reason why.

Susan would be downright horrified if she knew that Claudia had written out a check for $2000 as tuition for Adam Winters's full week-long seminar to be held next month. "Have you lost your mind, Ma?" she would bellow. "Why don't you give the guy the key to your safety deposit box too while you're at it?"

It was truly a wonderful deal, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If she decided to let Adam Winters Associates manage her funds, $1500 of the tuition monies would be plowed right back into her account. Even Susan would have to admit that was more than generous.

Her children thought they had the right to rule her life. They had opinions on everything from the house she lived in to the food she cooked and the company she kept and she resented it deeply. She tried very hard to keep her nose out of their business and she expected the same consideration in return. This was her money, hers and her beloved John's, and if she wanted to use it as a stepping stone toward building her investment then that was exactly what she would do.

"I'm not telling Jessica and Peter," Roberta said as they neared the outskirts of town. "One more lecture about how it might be time for me to hand over my power of attorney and I'll leave everything to Sparky." Sparky was her Airedale.

Claudia nodded. "I'm not telling any of mine." She had thought she might confide in Annie but now that was out as well.

"They'll thank us one day," Roberta said.

"Absolutely," Claudia concurred. "When we've tripled their inheritances, they'll sing a different tune."

Roberta made a left turn onto Willow Road. "Steak at Brubaker's or the fish fry at Cappy's?"

"Cappy's," said Claudia. "I'm in the mood for french fries."

"Damn the cholesterol," said Roberta as she gunned the engine of her Buick Riviera. "Full speed ahead!"

Chapter Ten

Cappy's- on-the-Cove was a former lobster shack with delusions of grandeur. What had begun as a modest establishment with window service only had grown by bits and pieces over the years until it could now seat forty with just minor discomfort. The floors were uneven. The ceilings varied in height. The tables near the kitchen were a good ten degrees hotter than anywhere else in the place. But when it came to mouth-watering lobster and world-class blueberry pie, it didn't get much better than Cappy's.

"Been too long, Doc," said Gloria, the original owner's daughter-in-law. "We haven't seen you since the Fourth of July."

"Lots of babies born this summer, Glo," he said as he followed her to a table near the window. "How's the chowder tonight?"

"First-rate," she said, plopping down a menu in front of him. "Should I start you off with an iced tea?"

Awkward moment number one.

"Hold off on the iced tea," he said, striving to sound casual and unconcerned. "I'm meeting someone here."

"Yeah?" said Gloria, leaning over the table. "Who?" "A friend."

"Anyone I know?"

"You know everybody in town," he said, feeling like a sixteen year old being grilled by a girlfriend's parents.

"Unless she's wearing a disguise, I'll figure it out soon enough," Gloria said with a laugh. "Two iced teas coming right up."

Why even bother to order, Hall wondered, when Gloria was going to bring him exactly what she wanted to bring him. That was one of the best and worst parts of spending your life in the same little town where you grew up: you lost the capacity to surprise people around the time you went into puberty.The librarians knew your taste in books. The clerks in the record store knew your taste in music. The guy behind the counter at the coffee shop knew you liked it black with three sugars while Gloria here at Cappy's could recite your favorite menu even if you hadn't been in to visit since summer began. And because everybody in town knew everybody else, all of the information ended up in one gigantic data base meant to ensure that you had no privacy at all. Maine's version of the Akashic record, he thought and wished he had someone with whom to share the observation.

Gloria returned with the iced teas. "She's late whoever she is." "Not very." Eleven minutes and thirty seconds.

Not that he was counting or anything.

The cowbell over the front door jingled. "Hi, Annie!" Gloria called out. "Pick a seat. I'll be there in a second."

Annie walked over to the table and claimed the seat opposite him. "I hope one of those iced teas is for me."

Gloria just barely managed to keep her jaw from hitting the table top. "You bet. And two lobster specials," she said, "coming right up."

"How does she do that?" Annie said, shaking her head as Gloria walked away. "She knows what I want before I do."

"Practice," he said, glancing down at the advertisements printed on his paper placemat. Teeth getting you down? Visit The Tooth Factory for 21st Century Solutions.

Real romantic. Why hadn't he suggested they go to Renaldi's in town, some place with a tablecloth and ventilation that didn't reek of dead fish.

If she noticed, she didn't let on. She told him a funny story about the Sorenson-Machado wedding and he laughed when he was supposed to laugh but her words never got through. Something was different about her. Her hair was still the same wild mass of unruly curls. Her blue eyes were still framed by spiky lashes and the faintest beginnings of crow's feet. She still had the same off-center smile. He couldn't point to any one thing that had changed but somehow everything had and he had the sense of being left behind. She pointed toward the window that looked out over the dock. "Isn't that Susan

leaning against the railing?"

You're dead, Susie, he thought as he saw a familiar face trying to pretend she had a reason to be there. What the hell was wrong with her anyway?

"We should ask her to join us," Annie said. "She's probably with the kids."

"That's not a problem," Annie said. "We're godparents to a few of them, right?" He was about to say something incredibly witty when he saw two more familiar

faces pressed against the front window of Cappy's. Four fists rapped on the glass. "It's Daddy!" Willa cried out. Who knew her voice was that piercing? "Daddy!" Mariah, the older of the two, hooked her pinkies in either side of her

mouth and crossed her eyes. The gesture was particularly effective coupled with the fact that her nose was squashed flat against the window.

Annie waved at the girls. "I didn't know you had your kids with you this weekend." "Neither did I," he muttered.

"We might as well ask them to join us," Annie said. "It's either that or pretend they're not out there."

"Great idea," he said, summoning up that old bedside manner once more. "The more the merrier."

"Pull over some chairs," she said to the newcomers as they approached, "and join

us."

Hall's smile never wavered. It was part of his training. "I'm sure our Susie has something better to do than watch us eat dinner."

Susan looked guilty as sin.

"Hall's right," she said, leaning a hand on Annie's shoulder as she reached over and plucked a tomato off her sister-in-law's salad. "We're out of here. We came out for pizza and got a little sidetracked."

Is that what they call it these days, Susie?

"You know," said Jack, the only innocent in the room, "I haven't had a lobster roll in