Читать книгу Hart's Harbor - Deb Kastner - Страница 12

M emorial Day dawned brand-spanking bright and fresh as the birth of a newborn babe, full of sunshine and the pungent scent of spring flowers, everything a man could ask for in a holiday morning.

And it dawned far too early, in the opinion of Dr. Kyle Hart.

If he had his way, it would be snowing today.

Wisconsin was known for its late-spring snowstorms, wasn’t it?

Why couldn’t such a happy phenomenon as snow in springtime happen today?

But no.

It had to be the perfect day for a picnic.

Kyle winced as he tightened the knot on his bow tie and surveyed himself critically in the half mirror over the sink in his bathroom.

He’d said he’d be at the bachelor’s block auction today, and he would be there. But it wasn’t going to be an easy day. And he knew he wasn’t going to like it, no matter what Constance or Gracie or anyone else said about it.

Constance Laughlin had indicated he could wear whatever made him comfortable, from jeans to a sport coat; but in the end, he’d opted for his classic black tux, deciding he would give whatever lady bid on his chocolate the first-class afternoon she deserved. And he guessed he wanted to be different than the run-of-the-mill Safe Harbor man standing on the block.

Now that he had his tux on, though, he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right choice. For one thing, this was Safe Harbor, Wisconsin, not Houston, Texas. And he was going to a Memorial Day picnic, not a black-tie affair at a five-star hotel. He wanted to be different, but he didn’t want to show anybody up.

Besides, the suit reminded him a little too much of his old life, before he moved to Safe Harbor, when dressing up used to be the norm. When the pursuit of the almighty dollar had come at a devastating cost.

He’d lost his wife and his sweet, little infant daughter.

He glanced at his watch.

Whether he liked it or not, he was due at the bachelor’s block at the park.

Or more precisely, on the block.

He chuckled as he made his way to his full-size, extended-cab white pickup truck, a throwback to his Texas days. He was making way too much out of what was surely a really small subject.

How bad could it be?

The green on the hill was already filled to over-flowing with the residents of Safe Harbor when Kyle arrived at the park. Some folks milled around setting up picnic tables and stoking up grills, while others stood in groups talking with old friends, or threw Frisbees or footballs to each other.

It was a tranquil scene, something eminently small town. It was the sort of thing a painter would capture on canvas.

Kyle knew he’d never see such a gathering in Houston if he looked for a year. There was always an air of commerce in the big city, even when no one was selling anything.

Here, everyone looked genuinely relaxed. The air was fairly buzzing with anticipation of what the day would bring.

This was what he’d come to Safe Harbor for, this sense of belonging to something bigger than himself, and Kyle eagerly joined in, greeting those people he knew from the clinic. And he was more than happy to gulp down an early hot dog with Robert, Wendy and their two active boys, though it was only nine in the morning.

Constance checked in with him, reminding him of his ten o’clock obligation—as if he could forget. And Chelsea fluttered by to remind him—or was it to threaten him—that she intended to make the highest bid for him and take him home with her.

He could only hope some other Safe Harbor lady would take pity on him.

And while the news that Chelsea was after him like a fly to honey flustered him, it was even more troubling that he continued to scan the crowd without spotting so much as a glimpse of the flame-colored hair he was desperately watching for.

Where was Gracie?

Somehow, he thought he’d be able to get through this whole auction thing better if she was around for moral support.

And he’d just assumed she’d be here today, so much so that he hadn’t even thought to ask her outright. She was far too much of a social butterfly to miss such a big community event, and her heart and soul were in Safe Harbor.

She’d be here. She had to be.

He thought to ask Robert if he knew where Gracie was, but decided against it. He didn’t want to call attention to the fact he’d noticed Gracie’s absence, much less that it bothered him.

Kyle knew there were already rumors circulating, speculating on the relationship between Gracie and him. He didn’t want to stoke it up.

Besides, he knew Robert would use it as an opportunity to razz his old buddy, as he had done through all their years in medical school. All he needed was the extra ammunition, and Kyle wasn’t about to provide the fodder outright.

A barbershop quartet started singing a familiar gospel tune at the gazebo, which was Kyle’s cue to line up for the bachelor’s block. He straightened his suddenly tight bow tie and cleared his throat.

Ready or not, he was about to make his modeling debut, and it was a paid engagement.

He joined the group of his uncommon associates, most of whom he knew at least by sight, if not by name, behind the gazebo. Not a one of them looked half as nervous as he felt.

Constance was fretting about, consulting the clipboard in her hand and lining the men up elbow to elbow, then changing the order with a shake of her head; adjusting a shirt collar here, straightening a lock of hair there, mumbling under her breath all the while.

“Nervous?” he asked the man standing next to him, a young carpenter named Buck something-or-other who had done some work at the clinic.

“Hmm? Naw. Been doing this for years. Or at least, every other year.” Buck laughed at his own joke.

“No big deal, huh?”

Buck shrugged. “Guess it all depends on who bids on your chocolate.”

Kyle chuckled dryly, then coughed as it stuck in his throat. “I was afraid of that.”

Buck pounded him on the back and roared with laughter. “If you could see your face, man. I’m just kidding around with you.”

Kyle wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say so. There wasn’t time. Constance was checking everyone’s chocolate. Some of the men had brought big, frilly heart boxes full of chocolates or truffles, and Kyle wondered if he’d made a mistake in his choice of a single chocolate rose.

Kyle was third in line, and listened with interest as the crowd, which sounded mostly feminine, got warmed up. What started as mild cheering and clapping soon became whooping and hollering, and it sounded like the men on the block were egging it on.

So much for small-town and dignified. He was going to end up looking like a fool in front of all those women. He couldn’t do this.

He wished for the millionth time that Gracie was here with him. At least she’d have something silly to say that would make him smile, make him forget about this ironic mix of comedy and tragedy.

He heard his name announced and stepped forward before he lost his nerve. He guessed he wasn’t completely surprised to find they’d built an actual block in front of the gazebo, to showcase the men and their chocolates. Three stairs led up to the platform, and Kyle reluctantly climbed to the top.

The view would have been intimidating to a total extrovert, which he wasn’t. While there were a fair share of men in the crowd, he was certain every single woman in the town was present for the auction.

Every woman except one. The only face he really wanted to see in the crowd.

Gracie Adams.

He was going to have to do this without her he realized yet again, and his disappointment that she still wasn’t here to support him was surprisingly sharp and bitter.

He scanned the crowd, wordless and unmoving. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to make a speech or flex his muscles, so instead he just lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in an awkward, simple wave to the crowd.

The women on the green immediately exploded with applause.

He cracked a grin.

“I bid fifty dollars,” came a high-pitched, squeaky voice from the front row. “Move over, ladies, because that man is mine.”

Kyle barely restrained himself from cringing and hopping right off the block. Actually, he wanted to run for his life.

The voice belonged to Chelsea. He nonchalantly grit his teeth and coached himself to remain on the block. For the sake of charity, he was going to be a gentleman, no matter what kind of sacrifice he was called on to make.

People oohed and aahed at the high starting bid, but there was even more surprise when an elderly woman in the back promptly followed with an animated, “Seventy-five dollars.”

Chelsea’s face turned a hearty shade of pink. She crossed her arms, shifted from foot to foot, and looked genuinely miserable for a good moment before she called out, “One hundred dollars!”

She sounded none too happy about having to name such a high figure. It was obvious she’d intended to win his chocolate and his time on the strength of her opening bid alone.

With the purplish look on Chelsea’s face, Kyle thought he might be close to causing a riot, just by his being on the block.

He grinned in earnest. This might be fun.

After the first minute or two of being gawked at and fussed over by a large crowd of women, he began to lose the self-consciousness that had first held him back.

As the bidding continued to rise in twenty-five dollar increments, he found himself playing to the crowd. He was having fun. The women were clearly enjoying themselves. And the bids were going up, up, up.

From the look on Constance’s face, Kyle was pretty sure bids usually didn’t top three hundred dollars, and they were almost up to five. As crazy as Kyle thought the whole idea was, the Mercy Fund was really going to benefit, and a lot of poor people would be able to get medical attention.

It was only a moment later when Kyle sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a marked tension crackling through the air that changed everything.

The bidding had wound down to three determined women—a couple of feisty senior citizens Kyle thought must be bidding away their social security checks and Chelsea Daniels. His determination to be a gentleman weakened as Chelsea acted less and less like a lady.

His preening and primping turned to hemming and hawing. He reached for the end of his tie, giving it a firm yank. Anything to relieve the sudden pressure he was feeling around his neck.

He realized too late that his gesture had the unintended effect of egging his admirers on. He’d not considered what loosening his tie would suggest to the innocent—or not so innocent—onlookers, both those bidding and those simply cheering him on.

Heat rushed to his face. He was making a muddle of this. Things were going downhill so fast it was almost a landslide.

Could it possibly get any worse?

Gracie shifted, carefully adjusting her perch on a thick branch in a sturdy oak tree at the edge of the green, straining forward to get a better vantage point of what was going on.

Specifically, she wanted to see Kyle squirm on the bachelor’s block.

She was late getting to the picnic because she’d been helping out an indigent family on the dock who’d called her when they’d had a minor medical emergency. She couldn’t—and wouldn’t—turn this family down, but she hoped she had not missed the spectacle she was sure would occur when the good doctor made his debut.

She’d relied on an old childhood trick, one she had learned when she was six years old and which had stood her in good stead over the years—shimmying up a convenient tree to get a better lay of the land.

Her mother had called it tomboyish and unladylike. She’d always thought it rather practical, herself. And now was certainly no exception. She wasn’t going to be able to get a glimpse of the gazebo any other way.

After nimbly shifting down to her stomach on the tree branch, her knees braced around the rough bark for security, she was finally able to get a good glimpse of Dr. Hart.

Gracie watched Kyle shrug back into his jacket and attempt without success to retie his bow tie. She got the unspoken message, even if the other women cheering on the green didn’t hear what he was silently trying to tell them with his actions.

He didn’t want to be paraded around like a piece of meat. And though he was going along with it like the gentleman he was, it was killing him to do it. From the tortured look on his face, he’d like to be anywhere but here in Safe Harbor, and most especially not on the bachelor’s block.

Suddenly, Gracie found herself experiencing feelings she never thought to encounter when she climbed up this tree on the green.

She felt sorry for Dr. Hart.

She’d always been outrageously outgoing by nature, and she’d grown up in Safe Harbor, after all, with their strange traditions and irascible characters. It was all she’d ever known, and she was perfectly comfortable in this uncommon little part of the world. Up to and including taking her stand on the bachelorette block when it was her turn to do so, even flirting with the fellows to get a good price.

But Kyle was different. He came from another world entirely. He was educated, distinguished, refined. He wasn’t some hick right off the farm who looked at the bachelor’s block as his opportunity to make his mark in the world.

Her heart swelled into her throat. She could almost physically feel Kyle cringe from where she crouched in the tree as Chelsea made yet another bid. Gracie knew how much it cost Kyle not to jump right off that block and make a run for it.

The next moment, her decision was made, and her heart was firm.

She swung her leg around and shifted down, swinging herself so she was dangling on the branch from her arms, where everyone on the green could see her, if—when—they looked in her direction. There could be no mistaking what she was about to do.

“One thousand dollars,” she said, her voice as crystal clear as her mind was made up, and as her heart was strong and true.

“The doctor has been sold. To me.”