Angora Alibi (2 page)

C
om
ing upon it from the west, the Anya Angelina Commu- nity Center looked as if it grew
directly out of the land and thick woods surrounding it. There it stood, a beacon
at the edge of the rise above the pounding surf. In daytime, sunlight reflected off
its tall windows—glass stripes between stretches of cedar walls. But tonight the center
glowed with hundreds of flickering candles that filled the windows and welcomed guests.

“It looks like the whole town’s shown up tonight.” Sam Perry drove slowly past the
center’s entrance. Inside they could see crowds of well-dressed guests milling around.
He searched the lot for a parking place.

“Over there.” Izzy pointed to a narrow space between Cass Halloran’s new truck and
the edge of the woods.

Sam maneuvered his car into the small space.

“Good causes bring out good people,” Nell Endicott said from the backseat, where she
was wedged tightly between her husband, Ben, and tiny Birdie Favazza.

“Tonight’s event is definitely that,” Birdie said. “Bless that Lily Virgilio. Her
free health-care program has grown like wildfire. She’s a gem and I hope this party
raises a truckload of money to help it along.”

Ben agreed. “Free screenings, children’s vaccinations, prenatal vitamins—it’s an innovative
way to use a part of this great facility. And from what I hear, Lily has corralled
nearly everyone in town with an M.D., D.O., or R.N. behind their name to help her
out.”

“Your obstetrician has her hands in everything, Iz.” Nell touched the seat in front
of her. “Good lady.”

Izzy nodded. “Of course. Nothing but the best for this baby.”

Sam looked over at his wife, his hand leaving the wheel to lightly graze her belly.

Nell watched the intimate gesture from behind, saw Izzy lift Sam’s hand and kiss his
fingers lightly before letting go and climbing out of the car.

Izzy’s mood seemed to have shifted during the day. Earlier, when Nell dropped by the
yarn shop, she had seemed unusually quiet. She’d brushed aside Nell’s concern. The
shop was filled with customers. Payroll was due. She was busy, that was all.

Tonight, her smile was larger, her laughter less forced. Ben told Nell she was watching
Izzy too closely during her pregnancy, imagining emotions that maybe weren’t even
there. Her niece had always been independent, and Nell needed to respect that.

He was probably right. Of course he was.

“Does the sweater fit, Izzy?” Nell asked, catching up to her niece in the parking
lot. She touched the edge of the soft blue gossamer sweater. Nell had started knitting
it the day Izzy announced her pregnancy. Something for summer nights, something that
wouldn’t impose on Izzy’s changing figure. The short lacy knit was tied loosely in
front, its abbreviated sleeves just long enough to ward off ocean breezes.

Izzy looped one arm through her aunt’s and hushed the sentence. “You’re as transparent
as this lovely sweater, Aunt Nell. Of course it fits. And what you are really asking
me is how I am. I’m fine. Honest, I am.”

On her other side, Birdie Favazza laughed, a rich, wind-chime laugh that always made
those around her smile. “This baby is well loved, Isabel,” she said. “And sometimes
love brings a bit of unnecessary concern.”

Nearly a foot taller than Birdie, Izzy smiled down at one of the wisest women she
knew, then looked back to her aunt. “Why don’t you come with me this week when I see
Dr. Lily? You can hear her report for yourself. You might hear baby Perry, too. This
baby is noisy, just like his dad—” She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, then looked
down at the baby’s form and added, almost as if talking to herself, “When he bounces
around so much, I’m sure it’s a mini Sam. But when I play Norah Jones and the baby
rolls so gracefully to the music, I think it’s a little girl in there, maybe a dancer.
But we’ll all find out soon enough, I guess.”

Nell’s smile was hidden in the darkness of the night as she listened to Izzy dream
aloud about her baby. It was foolish for her to worry about her niece, just as Ben
and Izzy and Birdie said—yet they put up with Nell and treated her concern kindly.

“So, Aunt Nell? What do you say?”

“Thanks, Izzy. Of course. I’d love to go with you.”

Birdie was the first up the steps, her diminutive figure shimmery in a short silver
dress. Her gait was lively, belying her eighty-plus years. She hugged one of the young
women handing out programs at the door. “Janie Levin, you are a vision tonight.”

Birdie had known the young nurse her entire life and, along with the other knitters,
had cheered Janie on when she left an hourly job to go to nursing school, and then
they had welcomed her back with open arms when she returned, degree in hand, to pursue
her career in Sea Harbor.

Janie blushed at the attention and slid a palm down her watery silk dress. She lowered
her head, a thick red curl falling over her forehead. “Do you recognize this dress?
I got it at Laura Danvers’ garage sale. A designer dress! Who knows the glamorous
places it’s been?” She laughed and pushed the stray lock back into place.

Without her hair, Janie might have been considered pleasant looking, but one would
never describe her that way.
Gorgeous
was used more often. Twenty-five years before, she’d made her way into the world
with a headful of valentine-colored curls, surprising the entire medical team, not
to mention a black-haired mother and father who wondered briefly if their tenth child
had somehow been dropped off in the wrong delivery room. Along with her deep green
eyes and tall, lanky body, Janie stood out, no matter how hard she tried not to.

“No one will ever know. It looks like it was made for you, Janie,” Izzy said

Janie laughed again. “Laura walked right by me tonight without even noticing I was
wearing her dress—of course it’s shorter on me, but short is ‘in,’ so I’m fine. I
paid four dollars and fifty cents for it, can you believe it?” She held up four fingers.

“Yes, I can,” Izzy said. “That’s why you’re the garage sale queen. You’re the best
bargain hunter I know.”

“It’s easy to be frugal when you grow up with nine siblings. I love garage sales.
And now I get to use my hobby to buy things for my boyfriend. I never tell Tommy where
things come from—he thinks the shirts and designer ties I give him are new.”

They laughed at the thought of the young policeman, whose shoes were always shined,
his uniform pristine and pressed perfectly, dressed in garage sale finds. “Tommy Porter’s
a lucky man,” Birdie said.

“And Dr. Lily, too,” Izzy said. “As if being head nurse isn’t enough, Janie seems
to have her hand in everything over there.”

“It’s my dream job—and I want to be involved in everything. I get to train the new
nurses and all sorts of . . .” Janie’s words fell off and were replaced by a frown
as she looked over Izzy’s shoulder and down the steps. Several young men, dressed
in khaki pants and light blue shirts, stood at attention at the curb. A
VALET
sign was posted in front of them.

Izzy followed Janie’s look. “You worry too much, Janie,” she said. “He’ll be fine.”

Justin Dorsey, a ponytailed young man with dimples and an infectious smile, had taken
a set of car keys from the construction magnate, Alphonso Santos, and was eagerly
climbing into his shiny yellow Porsche.

Janie fidgeted with of the evening’s program, bending a corner back. Finally, once
Justin had eased the car away from the curb, she relaxed. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t
worry about him. Tommy thinks I’m crazy. He’d be happy if Justin would disappear.
But it was so nice of Laura and Willow to hire him to park cars tonight—even though
I had to talk him into it. There was a party at the beach—a bunch of college kids—and
he really wanted to go. They needed him, he said. He’d make his money down there.
‘How?’ I asked him. ‘Selling hot dogs?’ He just doesn’t think. I know he doesn’t make
much at the clinic—and frankly, we needed him tonight, so I forced him to come. He’s
like a little kid and lives in the moment, doesn’t think about the consequences. And
I just worry. You know?”

“Well, stop worrying, dear,” Birdie said, patting her hand. “It accomplishes nothing
but wrinkles. Justin can drive a car as well as anyone. If he’s related to you, he
has to have a few marbles up there.”

Janie’s worried look remained. “Well, he’s related to a cousin of a cousin out in
California. But everyone in the family kind of cast him aside. I felt sorry for him.”

A few minutes later the young man walked back across the parking lot, waving to arriving
guests and swinging Alphonso’s car keys from his one finger.

The worry began to disappear from Janie’s face. “He’s okay . . . and can be sweet.
He just doesn’t have much faith in himself. Tommy says I’m not the one to put it there
and I should just let him grow up.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. But Justin doesn’t
seem to have anyone else.”

They knew the story, how Janie had met the several-times-removed cousin at a reunion
where no one paid much attention to him. But Janie had, and by reunion’s end, Justin
had developed a puppy-dog crush on her, like a youngster on a young teacher or a camp
counselor. And much to her surprise, a few months after the reunion, he’d hitchhiked
his way to Sea Harbor, showing up on her doorstep. Justin would move the sun for Janie
Levin if she asked him to—but he sometimes tripped over a few planets in his attempts.

“You’ve done a lot for him. But maybe Tommy is right—now he needs to stand on his
own two feet.”

Janie nodded to Birdie. “Sure, you’re right, Birdie. And even Justin tells me he is
figuring out how to make money on his own. He doesn’t need me to find him jobs, he
says. The clinic gig is enough. But . . .” A line of people forming behind Birdie
and waiting for programs interrupted her thought, and one hand flew to her mouth.
“Jeez. Fine volunteer I am. I’m going to be fired!” She gave a small wave and stepped
aside to greet the next guest.

The threesome left Janie to her duties and moved into the center hallway.

Birdie looked back to the doorway where Janie was graciously greeting each guest.
And where, beyond her, Justin was stomping out a cigarette and taking the keys to
another fancy car. Once again, she saw Janie’s eyebrows lift, her forehead furrow,
and a flicker of anger in her eyes as she spotted the crushed cigarette.

“Sometimes that girl takes on too much,” Birdie said.

“Are you saying Justin is too much?” Nell asked.

“Perhaps he is.”

“Janie has gotten him odd jobs everywhere,” Izzy said.

“But he has a tough time keeping them, from what I’ve heard,” Nell said.

“Well,” Birdie philosophized, “he’s just a kid, really. He’ll grow up. They all do.”
She waved at neighbors filing by and followed their eyes to the large posters hanging
on the walls.

Everywhere in the high-ceiling entryway, people stood in groups, looking up at the
large posters hanging on the walls that outlined auction items donated for the event.
The entryway flowed into a larger room, its ceiling reaching two stories. The skylights,
windows, and doors created an amazing open space filled with elegantly set dining
tables and lined with white-clothed bidding tables that groaned beneath the donated
items.

Nell looked around at the opulent setting. “I suspect you’re right, Birdie. Lily’s
free clinic will be on its way to being well funded by the end of tonight.”

Izzy lifted herself on tiptoe as best she could manage and looked around the crowded
space, peering over the tops of heads. “Where do you suppose the men are? We may never
see them again in this crowd.”

Nell pointed toward the far end of the building, where a long bar had been set up
in front of the veranda doors. “I suspect they’re back there. And I think I see Cass
and Danny, too.”

Izzy volunteered to lead the way, her bulk providing an invitation for others to step
aside. She greeted friends and customers as she rotated her body through the crowd.

Cass greeted them with a laugh and a hug for Izzy. “Have you noticed how easily crowds
part when you walk through? I think I’ll take you out on the
Lady Lobster
with me and see if you can part the sea.”

The group laughed and moved into easy, familiar conversation, wrapped up in the comfort
of longtime friendships. Ben passed glasses of water and wine around. “We thought
we’d lost you for a minute there. This placed is packed.”

“I figured you’d be checking out the silent auction items, looking for treasures.”
Cass smiled up at the quiet blond-haired man standing next to her. “Like Danny here.
I think he’s going to surprise me by bidding on something amazing. Right?”

Danny Brandley walked his fingers up her bare back. “Who knows? Word has it that someone
donated an expensive necklace, dripping with gems. . . .”

She wrinkled her forehead. “I was thinking more of those new lobster buoys Gus McClucken
donated.”

They all laughed. Cass tried hard to maintain her tough fisherwoman image, but it
didn’t fit her tonight, no matter how hard she tried. Tonight she was all Cinderella,
her thick black hair loose about her shoulders. Torn jeans and a yellow slicker had
given way to a midnight blue, spaghetti-strapped dress that in no way spoke of hog
rings and head netting.

And Danny, her mystery writer friend, seemed to be enjoying every bit of his Cinderella.

Behind the bar, a dark-haired man shook a silver carafe, half listening to the group’s
friendly conversation, a smile on his face.

Nell looked over and her face lit up. “Kevin Sullivan!” She leaned over the bar to
hug the bartender. “I didn’t realize it was you. I think it’s the beard.”

“You like? I got tired of being carded when I was in New York.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you home again. Birdie tells me people are flocking to
the Ocean’s Edge to taste your specialties.”