Anchor In The Storm Part 33

Dr. Sharp sighed. "I suppose that would look unusual. Poor Harry has a violent case of epilepsy and requires five grains daily. As for the bar, his brother owns it. He cares for Harry. Saddest thing you've ever seen. Rusty keeps the poor man in a room behind the bar so he can help if Harry has a seizure."

"Oh dear."

"That Rusty-he's rough around the edges but has a heart of gold. Most brothers would put Harry in an inst.i.tution, but Rusty won't hear of it."

Lillian fought to keep inappropriate disappointment out of her voice. "Thank you for explaining. I wanted to be sure."

"A wise choice."

When she hung up, her delayed disappointment seeped out in a sigh. Rusty Carruthers was a red herring. A legitimate prescription, not a forgery. It was merely a coincidence that the same bar was used by the drug ring for deliveries.

What more could she do to solve the case? The men who brought in forged prescriptions used aliases, and they certainly wouldn't divulge their ident.i.ties to her.

That was all they needed. Names to add to the faces. Hank she recognized, but they needed a last name. The smaller man Arch saw at the bar sounded like the customer who used the alias Arnold Smith, but the larger man didn't sound familiar.

"Lillian Avery, standing around doing nothing."

She whipped around at the familiar voice. "Daniel Avery, standing around being annoying."

Dan gave a rare smile, removed his cover, and smoothed his wavy black hair. "So this is where you've been getting into trouble lately."

He didn't know the half of it. "You realize you've been in Boston three months, and this is the first time you've visited Dixon's."

"Well, you know gas is rationed here on the East Coast."

Lillian burst out in a laugh. "Only for the past week, and you don't even own a car, and Boston has the best subway system."

"Worth a try." Dan's eyes twinkled, and he glanced around. "You've done well for yourself."

If only it would last. "So what brought the busy lieutenant into my drugstore?"

"Telegram from Mom." He slid her a piece of paper. "Good news."

"Lucy had her baby?" Lillian s.n.a.t.c.hed up the telegram and gobbled it down. "A girl? How fun. They named her Barbara. I like that. I can't wait to see a picture."

"I'm hurt." He flicked the paper in her hand. "Mom says Lucy wants to know when Lillian's coming to see the baby. Not when Dan's coming, or Rob, or Jim. Only you."

Since Dan never had any patience with Lucy's histrionics, Lillian felt free to tell the truth. "Simple. She wants to gloat that she has a husband and baby, and I don't. When I say I can't come home because of work, she'll have another excuse to call me coldhearted."

Dan made a face. "I'll never understand women. That's why I'll never marry."

"Just wait. Someday a special lady will make you change your tune."

He raised one dark eyebrow. "Never thought I'd hear my sensible sister spout romantic hogwash."

She smiled. "Even sensible sisters fall in love."

"Well, Arch is a good man. Almost worthy of you. Do you know where he and Jim are?"

"No. They sailed on the tenth. That's all I know." Eleven very long days.

Dan leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "Coastal convoy. Key West and back."

The proper response was, "It's about time," so Lillian said it, even though her brain was calculating how long the voyage would take, how long until she could savor Arch's brilliant eyes and kind words and vertigo-producing kisses.

"About three weeks total," Dan said, his eyelids fluttering in annoyance. "Looks like love has made my sister much less sensible."

"And much happier." She gave him a beaming smile just to see him grimace.

He did. "I'd better get back to work, and so had you. If you have any work, that is."

"It's been quiet lately." She spied Mr. Dixon coming up the aisle, early for his shift. "There's my boss. Quick-buy some war stamps. We're below our sales quota."

Dan grumbled about already aiding the war effort, but he bought five dollars' worth.

Mr. Dixon paused in front of the counter and inspected Dan. "Just how many naval officers do you know, Miss Avery?"

She laughed. "Mr. Dixon, this is my oldest brother, Lt. Dan Avery."

The men shook hands, but Mr. Dixon looked distracted, and Dan took his leave.

Lillian put away the bulk bottle of aminophylline, but what could she do next? She had so few prescriptions today. With less compounding of elixirs and syrups, she even had less to clean up.

"Miss Avery, I'd like a word."

She winced, but she schooled her expression to neutrality and faced him. Had he hired her replacement already?

The druggist did up the b.u.t.tons on his white coat. "I sat down with the books last night. No doubt about it. Sales have fallen this month."

"Well, it is spring. Fewer cases of cold and flu."

"No, sales are also down from last May. Since you came."

Lillian's shoulder muscles tightened. He was blaming her? "Don't forget the government's price freeze."

"That's not it." He tugged the hem of his jacket. "However, April sales were significantly higher than March, and over April of 1941. It was due to the changes you made."

Her jaw swung low. "It was?"

"We've had complaints too." He frowned toward the main store. "Mrs. Connelly and Miss Felton say customers have left the store as soon as they saw the tin collection bin was gone. And the ladies miss your froufrou displays."

"Oh." Her heartbeat scampered ahead, but she refused to let her mind catch up.

Mr. Dixon flung his hand toward the front of the store. "Put it back the way you had it. All of it. The window, the tin box, the cosmetics table, anything else you want."

"Anything?"

He lowered thick gray brows at her. "Run your ideas past me first."

Her mind joined her heart in its frolic. "Of course."

"Well, get to it. What're you waiting for?"

Lillian could have hugged the grouchy old teddy bear, but he'd fire her on the spot. "Thank you, sir. I'll get right to work."

"Good. Only reason I came in early."

She went to the stockroom where he'd stashed the tin collection bin with all her fabric inside. Her changes had increased sales! She'd done it. She'd made herself indispensable. He'd never fire her now.

She carried out the box and grinned at Mr. Dixon as she pa.s.sed. "We'll get you that cottage on Nantucket and a boat for your nephew before you know it."

Something soft washed over those dark eyes, and then he grunted and marched away.

Let Lucy call her coldhearted. It wasn't true. Only warmth could have melted Mr. Dixon's stalwart defenses.

33.

Off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina

Friday, May 29, 1942

The seas around Cape Hatteras tossed the Ettinger, but not as much as Mother's letter tossed Arch.

The letter had arrived the day they left Boston, almost three weeks earlier. On first reading, Arch dismissed it outright, but each day's reading fueled his doubts. Alone in his cabin, waiting for the first dog watch at 1600, he smoothed the stationery on the desk. Muggy air pressed on his chest.

For several days, I've pondered how to address this. I liked Lillian very much and found her kind and gracious. You know I don't tolerate gossip, but since this came from our trusted friend Dr. Detweiler, it carries weight and bears serious consideration. He never spreads gossip either, and he was quite impressed with Lillian that evening.

His granddaughter Pauline was concerned when you brought home a new girlfriend. She and her friends know you've been hurt by gold diggers, so Pauline recorded their conversation with Lillian. She showed it to her grandfather, and he thought you should be informed. Your father and I concurred. I have enclosed Pauline's notes.

Arch unfolded the second sheet of stationery, steeling himself, praying Pauline's words would form new and less-incriminating sentences. But they wouldn't.

Helen, Trudy, and I arranged a private talk with Miss Lillian Avery. We made pleasant conversation until I asked how long she and Archer had been dating.

Lillian said, "We aren't dating."

Helen voiced her surprise, since Archer seemed smitten. Lillian stated she was aware of his affections.

Then Trudy asked if Lillian was playing hard to get.

Lillian smirked. "There's a reason playing hard to get has worked for generations. The man thinks it was his idea and not yours."

We giggled as if we agreed, and Helen leaned closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "When a man is used to being chased for his money, it's important that he does the chasing."

"Oh yes," Lillian said. "He mustn't think I'm a gold digger."

I chimed in. "But all this wealth is tempting, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Who wouldn't want it?" Then she confessed she hadn't made up her mind whether or not to date Arch-until she saw the estate.

An admission of guilt from her very lips. Our first goal was accomplished, but our second goal remained. We couldn't allow her to deceive our friend.

Helen pulled herself to her full regal height. "You do know we'll have to inform Archer that you only want him for his money."

Lillian lost all composure. It was rather embarra.s.sing. She said we'd better keep quiet. Archer would never believe us anyway. Since Bitsy holds a torch for him, he'd think we were lying to drive Lillian away and let Bitsy have him.

Then she did the most unseemly thing. She said we didn't have a leg to stand on, but she did. She raised her skirts-in public!-and thrust out a wooden leg. Of course, we were shocked at her behavior and rather unsettled. Then she stomped away in a temper like a common fishwife.

I hate to report this conversation, but for Archer's sake, it is necessary.

Arch shoved the papers away, and his hands curled into fists. Someone was a lying schemer-either Pauline or Lillian. Two weeks ago, he'd a.s.sumed it was Pauline, but now he wasn't certain.

It didn't sound like the Lillian he knew and loved.

And yet . . .

He trusted Dr. Detweiler. He trusted his parents. They wouldn't have pa.s.sed on Pauline's letter unless they believed her accusations had merit. And Arch had seen Lillian hike up her skirts and storm off in a huff. Both Lillian's and Pauline's explanations fit the action he'd witnessed.

And the shrewdness of the plan. If Lillian were indeed a gold digger, she would choose a clever approach like that. Chasing Arch would have raised his defenses, but inducing him to the chase caused him to lower his defenses.

And the timing?

Arch groaned and rested his forehead on his fist. One sentence knifed his heart-she hadn't made up her mind until she saw the estate. Was that true? In a way, it was. She did make up her mind at the estate. Was the splendor the tipping point? If he'd declared his love while residing in a filthy tenement, would she have made the same decision?

His stomach whirled, as turbulent as the seas beneath him. Did she love him for who he was? Or had he been deceived yet again?

All the clues he'd brushed aside returned to his memory. Before the weekend in Connecticut, she'd supported the idea of selling his inheritance and giving away every penny. Then the day after the anniversary party, she told him to keep the estate. Now that she could potentially enjoy it.

Every time he saw her lately it seemed she wore a new dress, a new suit, a new hat-and nice ones. Having a rich boyfriend did tend to increase a woman's appet.i.te for the finer things in life.

Arch thrust the letter back in the drawer and bolted to his feet. He hated doubting her. He hated himself for feeling suspicious. And he hated the fact that he needed to test her.

But if he'd been deceived, he could be trapped for life. He'd hate that most of all.