A Misty Harbor Wedding by Marcia Evanick Page B

many of my weekends painting scenery. Miranda’s a great seamstress when push comes to shove, and Brad can usually get the lights working for an entire performance. Ken and a couple of fellow cops keep the stage from collapsing around their heads. It’s an old theater in a not very desirable part of town. Though the city enforces the building codes, it doesn’t see fit to help pay for any of the costs.”
    â€œSounds wonderful and challenging.” There was a glow in Gordon’s pale hazel eyes.
    â€œYou sound like my mother.” Her mother got that same glow in her eyes when she talked about the theater.
    Before Gordon could reply, two women walked into the shop. Gordon glanced at the customers and muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.
    â€œGordon,” called the heavyset woman, “I’m here to pick up Roy’s order.”
    Gordon gave Juliet an apologetic look. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œTake your time. I’m fine.” Juliet smiled pleasantly at the woman. The other customer was lost from sight.
    He went out to the front part of the shop, where Priscilla Patterson stood waiting. “Good afternoon, Priscilla.” He spotted the bird-like figure hiding behind Priscilla’s bulk. “Norma.” The two women, though totally opposite in appearances, went everywhere together. He once referred to them as mismatched bookends.
    â€œDid we interrupt something?” Priscilla was staring at Juliet and the tray of snacks.
    Gordon rolled his eyes and winked at his daughter. This was going to get sticky. “Priscilla and Norma, I would like you to meet Juliet Carlyle.” How was he supposed to introduce his daughter. “Juliet’s the daughter of an old acquaintance of mine.” It was the truth.
    Juliet stood up and smiled. “Hello.”
    He hurried over to the wall humidor and found Roy Patterson’s standard weekly order: a small tin of McClelland Arcadia and pouch of Sir Walter Raleigh Aromatic. Roy was one of the locals who had convinced him to keep the tobacco part of the shop open. Roy couldn’t play chess worth a damn, but he appreciated fine tobacco.
    â€œWhat brings you to Misty Harbor, Juliet?” Priscilla couldn’t care less about her husband’s tobacco. She wasn’t known to be the town’s biggest gossip for nothing.
    â€œI’ve never been to Maine, and I heard this area was lovely.”
    â€œAre you just visiting, or do you plan on staying?”
    â€œJust a short visit.”
    â€œHere’s the order, Priscilla. Is there anything else I can get you?” He wanted Priscilla and Norma gone. He wanted to spend the day getting to know his daughter. Too late he realized he should have put the CLOSED sign up on the door of the shop. He headed for the cash register, hopefully to ring up Roy’s order. Priscilla never lingered in his store because he never had anything new or interesting to tell her.
    â€œRoy’s birthday is coming up,” Priscilla said as she glanced around the shop. “I’ve been thinking about buying him a new pipe, but I don’t know which one he would like.”
    He froze and slowly turned to Priscilla. More than twenty-five years he had been running this shop, and never once had Priscilla taken any interest in Roy’s tobacco choices or pipes. “Roy usually picks out his own pipes.”
    â€œI know, but I wanted to surprise him this year.” Priscilla’s gaze wasn’t on the pipe display case. It was darting back and forth between him and Juliet, measuring and studying.
    Norma’s hungry gaze was locked on the cookies.
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    It took him an hour, all the cookies, and a trip upstairs for more soda and crackers, but he finally got Priscilla and Norma out of the shop. He also ended up selling Priscilla the top-of-the-line Peterson pipe that was going to make Roy one