CAB WOKE TO SUNSHINE AND noise from the street. It took a minute for him to remember where he was since his dreams had carried him to some strange places, places he wasn’t anxious to visit again.
A hot shower revived him somewhat. He shaved while he deliberated whether to call Frank for an update of the meeting he’d missed. Decided to let it slide. If there had been a problem, one of them would have called. And his voice mail was empty.
Bailey hadn’t called, either. He didn’t look forward to that reunion. She’d make him earn back her good graces and hot little body. And nicked himself when he realized that those were the first two things he thought about with Bailey, gaining peace and getting sex.
He pushed the thought aside. Funerals were not the time to sell houses or question relationships. Things got all screwed up because of funerals. He just needed to keep his head, take care of business, and get back to Atlanta and work.
He reached into his suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans. Looked at them. He didn’t remember packing them. But he must have, for the ride back probably. He laughed at himself. That crazy old woman last night had got him thinking all sorts of weird things. He pulled them on, found a clean tee shirt. His sweatshirt reeked of smoke, so he put his jacket over his T-shirt and went downstairs to look for coffee.
Bethanne came out of the office as he reached the lobby.
“Good morning.” She smiled, and Cab noticed how pretty she was and wondered what made her smile seem so sad. “Would you like some coffee? It will just take a minute to make.” She shrugged apologetically. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be getting up.”
“No thanks. I need to take care of some things, and I thought I’d just stop by Flora’s and get a coffee to go. She is open?”
“Oh, sure, and she can give you a good breakfast, too.”
“Great, thanks.” He started to leave. Turned back. “Would it be possible to keep my room for another night? There seems to be a lot of . . . stuff to take care of,” he finished lamely.
She laughed. “Of course. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not falling over guests.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with the Inn or anything. It’s just—”
“No need to explain. I understand. Tourist season is over, and the sidewalks are all rolled up.”
She shrugged again and attempted a smile that Cab was afraid would morph into tears.
“Have a nice day,” he said hurriedly, and headed for the door.
It was another sunny day, the air was crisp and clean and tinged with salt. He could hear gulls screeching in the distance. So why did he feel like he was standing under a black cloud, with birds of prey circling his head?
Flora’s was open. There were a few customers sitting at tables that were covered in blue-checked tablecloths. Half curtains of the same material. What this town needed was a sleek, nouvelle bistro.
No it didn’t. This town needed some paint and repairs, a couple of tons of shipped-in sand, and an ad campaign.
“Sit anywhere you want.”
Cab quickly searched for her name. Not Flora, not Sarah, Penny. “Thanks, Penny, but I just wanted a coffee to go if that’s possible.”
“Of course it’s possible, but you’ll it enjoy it more if you sit down and drink it with my asparagus, cheese, and ham omelet and home fries.”
“No grits?”
“You can have those, too, but I didn’t figure you for the grits type.”
“You figured right. But I’m a bit in a bind this morning. Are you open for lunch?”
“Sure am. How do you like your coffee?”
CAB WALKED TO the carousel, carrying his coffee and a bag of cheese biscuits that Penny had forced on him. Actually, he was grateful; he was hungry. It must be the sea air. He’d always eaten like a horse during his summer stays with Ned.
He unlocked the carousel door and carried his breakfast inside. There was just enough light filtering through the lattice for him to see his way over to a big workbench, where he set down his breakfast.
There were tools that looked as if they’d been used recently. Had Ned planned to reopen? Where would he have kept the animals if not here? Cab looked into the shadows. It was clammy, dank; it needed a shot of sunshine and life.
He took a sip of coffee, grabbed a hammer and a crowbar, and went back outside. He started with the first piece of lattice. The lattice had originally been secured by hinges and could be hooked open, revealing the carousel. There were no hooks left, and the lattice had been nailed shut. One yank of the crowbar, and it splintered into several rotten pieces. Beneath it was plywood; getting it off was a harder job. It was newer than the lattice and had been nailed shut over plastic, which he could see sticking out from behind the edges.
Which was okay by Cab. It meant that maybe the damp and the salt hadn’t completely crept inside to rust parts and rot wood. Maybe there would be something left.
He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did.
He carefully leaned the plywood against the side of the octagonal building. It would have to be replaced by the end of the day. He couldn’t leave the inside exposed to weather and looters and God knew what or who else.
He quit after the third window and carried his tools back inside. Enough light came through the opening to cast light through the room. It poured in over the long workbench, which Cab could now see had been used recently.
The first thing he did was lift the ticket kiosk until it was standing upright. Except that the whole structure leaned precariously on loose joints, a leaning tower of Pisa in bright colors. He wrestled it out of the center of the room and propped it against the wall.
Then he took the flashlight over to the carousel. In the daylight, he could see that the poles were rusted. The rounding panels, which had hidden the engine and music maker, were gone, and they were covered with a tarp and more plastic sheeting. Not much chance of getting either running again. Not that anybody would want to.
Cab looked up; all the ornamentation was gone, and he could look straight into the gears and rods that drove the animals. Like a strange abstract design with no purpose.
He stepped gingerly onto the platform, tested its strength. Here, at least, the boards had been sealed. Still, he walked carefully in a full circle, making sure the frame was solid. Occasionally, he would hit a pole as he passed by, and it would sway a few times before finally settling back in place.
When he’d made a full circuit, he stopped in front of the tarp that covered the engine housing. It was tied tight, battened down sailor fashion. Beau’s work, probably.
It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. He untied the tarp and threw it to the side. The engine was still there though the red paint had turned to rust brown, the lettering that spelled out the company logo had faded and flaked away, and Cab couldn’t remember who had made it.
It looked like it might work if he’d had a power source, but it wouldn’t for long; he could see the beginnings of rust on the bolts and cogs. He jumped back to the platform, went over to search the workbench, and found screwdrivers, pliers, and wrenches lined up across the front. Clean rags, slightly damp from the humidity, were stacked neatly in a cabinet beneath, and in the next cabinet, several cans of WD-40. The secret to a happy carousel is to keep her oiled and speak sweet to her.
Ned had taken him through every joint, and juncture, each bolt and spring. The process came back to him as if it had been last summer, not twenty-five summers ago.
Twenty-five.
Cab slowly became oblivious to everything around him except the engine and its parts. There was a breeze off the ocean, but no cooling draft reached Cab down in the housing, and sweat soaked his T-shirt and ran down his jaw to drip off his chin.
He forgot that he was working on a defunct engine, one that probably hadn’t worked in years. It didn’t matter. It was something he wanted to do. Even if it was a case of too little too late.
He stood, rubbed the small of his back. Wiped the sweat off his face with one of the rags that wasn’t covered in oil.
“Thought I might find you here.”
“Hi, Beau. I was just seeing if anything is salvageable.”
“Oughta be. Ned and I came down here nearly every week, just to keep things primed and ready. In case anybody ever wanted to open up the carousel again.”
Cab climbed out of the housing. “Do you think anyone would be interested? I have to say, things are looking pretty bleak around here.”
“Well, things have been bad, no use mincin’ words about that. But we’re slowly but surely coming back.” Beau put a greasy paper bag and two Cokes on the worktable. “Thought you might be hungry. I was down at the Tackle Shack and thought you might like a catfish sandwich.”
“I haven’t had catfish, in . . .”
“Probably since the last time you were here.”
“Probably, but it’s welcome.” Cab finished wiping his hands and tossed the rag aside before opening the paper bag. “Thanks.”
Beau twisted the cap off one of the Cokes and handed it to Cab, an action so natural that Cab thought he must have spent a lot of time here with his uncle.
The bottle was cold, and Cab took a long drink. It was sweet and tingling. Something else he’d forgotten. How much he loved Coke. Now it was always Evian or scotch or that luncheon staple, sweet tea. But Coke, that was a workingman’s drink.
He opened the sandwich paper and took a bite.
“So what were you doing climbing around down in the engine?”
Cab wiped his mouth with the miniscule paper napkin and finished chewing. “Just didn’t want it to corrode while it was left unattended.”
“Uh-huh.” Beau pulled a stool out from under the table and sat.
Cab did the same. “Actually, I couldn’t sleep last night and came down to take a look.”
“Pretty dark last night. Had to turn off the electricity. Ned was failing, no real reason to keep it turned on.”
“Why didn’t someone tell me?”
“Ned didn’t want it that way. Didn’t want to interfere with your life.”
Cab slammed the Coke bottle on the table. “I would have come.”
Beau gave him a speaking look. And what it said was “Would you?”
Cab wadded up the paper bag and looked around for a trash can. Beau pulled a plastic grocery bag from a stash in one of the cabinets. “Better carry that out with me. Don’t want to encourage any critter to come looking for food.”
Cab dropped the bag into the plastic one, embarrassed by his outburst.
“It’s the way Ned wanted it. Simple as that. No use wondering what if.”
Cab groaned. “You sound like crazy Ervina. She showed up while I was here and scared the spit out of me.”
Beau chuckled to himself. Shook his head. “That Ervina.”
“She said Ned didn’t sell the animals. But she wouldn’t tell me where they are. I don’t mind telling you, she creeped me out. Was she telling the truth or just making up more of her crazy stories?”
Beau tied a knot in the plastic bag and dropped it on the floor by his feet.
“Son, there’re only three ways to Ervina. She’s either pullin’ your leg, tryin’ to scare you, or tellin’ you the God’s own truth.”
“You forgot hoodoo nonsense.”
“Hoodoo maybe, but you better never let Ervina hear you calling it nonsense. She might be inclined to put the curse on you. Just a little one, mind you, just to put you in your place.”
“Turn me into a toad?”
Beau’s eyes twinkled; it made him look like a young man instead of somebody at least seventy. “Maybe not somethin’ that drastic but somethin’ to get your attention.”
Cab shook his head. He didn’t remember Ervina too well. Hadn’t thought about her at all until she started moaning at the funeral. When he’d first come to Stargazey Point, he’d been afraid of running into her. Ned had told him she was harmless, but then threw in the caveat, if you didn’t do anything bad.
“She’ll do it, too. Don’t you doubt it for a minute.”
“She said she knew where they were. But she wouldn’t tell me until she decided if I was man enough to find them. I shudder to think what she meant by that.”
“Now that, she was just trying to put you in your place. Ned was well loved around here. He was generous, and he cared about the town and the people who lived here.”
“I know.”
“And a lot of them are wondering what kind of man you turned out to be. Ervina wants to be sure you’ll do right by him.”
“How? What does she want me to do?” And why was it any business of hers or anyone’s in this town. He shut the thought down the minute he thought it.
“Only Ervina knows that. But let me just say, if you’re gonna sell to the highest bidder, I think it would be best to do it all at once and be done with it.”
“Sell?” Of course he had to sell. The carousel building was an eyesore. It would have to be pulled down if they wanted to gentrify this end of town. And Ned’s cottage, if the outside was any indication of the inside, probably should be pulled down, too. Or he could just leave them to rot where they stood and let the town deal with it.
But if the animals still existed . . . If they were in decent shape, they could bring in a lot of money. Not that he needed it. He was doing just fine. But sell the horses? The sea horse, or the pig? Not Neptune’s chariot. Or Midnight Lady? How could he sell her? He couldn’t do it. None of them. He just couldn’t do it.
So what the hell was he going to do? Just walk away? Maybe they were already rotted, maybe they didn’t even exist. Maybe he wouldn’t have to make that decision.
Beau heaved himself off the stool. “You think on it some. You’ll figure it out. And if you’re still here tomorrow, Millie said to invite you for Sunday lunch. One o’clock like always.”
“Thanks, thank her for me. I need to get back to Atlanta, but can I let you know?”
“Sure, just call up to the house before you come, so Marnie will know how many places to set. Bethanne knows the number.”
Beau picked up the bag of trash and went toward the door. Before he left, he turned back to the room. He didn’t look at Cab but at the carousel, then around the room, a slight smile on his lips as if he were hearing, seeing something only meant for him.