11 – WHISPERS AND RUMORS

"Well, I want to hear all about Cousin Reggie," Martha announced as she placed a basket of Morning Glory with bran muffins on the table in front of her employers.

"As soon as you join us," Carolyn promised as she brought the coffee over and took her seat.

Once Jon had brought his juice over and everyone was settled, Daniel began to recap the prior afternoon and evening.

"To say Reginald is obnoxious and disliked is to understate things severely," the seaman began, recalling the earlier observation. "I suppose if one has not been warned about what sort of person he is and if one lacks the sort of vision ghosts have, his oily charm might have some appeal. However, subsequent to spending an afternoon and evening in his company, I can say with confidence that I would far rather spend that time with Blair Thompson or even Ralph Muir than Reginald Nyland."

"I second that," Carolyn agreed. "Blair did have a few good points. Not enough to entice me to marry him, but he was just shallow. He was never mean."

"True," the Captain agreed reluctantly, hating to grant his former rival that much.

"Reggie did 'compliment' Claymore once or twice, but they were all those left-handed kind," Carolyn picked up. "You know; the sort that has a barb subtly or less than subtly tied to it."

"I hate those," Martha shook her head. "Rather have an outright insult than one of those sly things."

"And how is Claymore handling his cousin?" Martha asked. "I was wondering last night how things were going. Is he holding it together?"

"He seems to be," Daniel answered. "He is keeping calm; what is it you say, Jon?"

"Not losing it?" the boy answered. "That's cool if he can do that. Mr. Nyland sounds like a real creep."

"So, are you going to let Tris chase him off, like he did Blair Thompson?" Martha asked.

"No. As I was telling Dash, Tris, Sean, and assorted other family last night, it is not our place, unless perhaps Claymore requests us to."

"Or Ed could, maybe," Martha interjected. "He is the constable."

"Nyland isn't doing anything against the law; just being a boor," Carolyn sighed.

"And if that were illegal, all prisons would be full," Daniel added.

"No, only partly full; you would have to outlaw stupidity and deliberate meanness to fill them," Carolyn added.

"So what are Claymore and Reggie doing today, before the dance?" Martha asked. "Somehow I don't see him being able to entertain him, as he did Elroy, when he was in town. You know, showing him how he does his books and cleaning an empty summer cottage."

"I believe Claymore mentioned something about them taking a general tour of the town; you know, stop in at Tuttle's antiques, go down by the wharf, and visit the stables; though I can't imagine Claymore on a horse, and then go to Castine and visit the Maritime museum. You know, touristy stuff," Jon said.

"So he can insult everyone in Schooner Bay," Martha rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," Jon nodded, "But, you never know. I'm not sure Jane Shoemaker or Darlene Harpooniker will put up with him, and Mrs. Coburn, I mean, Ms. Sharpe might just scare him away."

"If so, we'll have to be — nice to her," Daniel frowned, not sure which was the lesser evil.

"Maybe Ms. Sharpe will sweep him off his feet? No — He's married."

"You don't suppose he wants to MOVE here, do you?" Martha asked, "Set up a business or something?"

"Perish the thought," Daniel grimly stated for all concerned.

"If he starts making noises like that," Carolyn frowned, "You CAN haunt him — do a combination of what you did to Blair the second time, and what you did to Ryan McNally and Sean Callahan the Fourth."

"And Paul Wilkie, to boot," Martha laughed. "Both times."

"Aunt Bats," Jon made a face.

"Don't even THINK about that harpy!" Daniel growled, and under the table, Dakota barked her approval, irritating the cats that were curled up with her.

"We're borrowing trouble," Martha said calmly. "We should be thinking about the rest of our day and the cotillion tonight!"

"I've dreamt of that for fifteen years," Carolyn's face softened.

"You'll have your waltz, my darling," Daniel answered huskily.

"Margaret Coburn Sharpe better not do anything to spoil it, either," Carolyn answered back, with a smile.

"Why would she?" their son frowned.

"I'll tell you some day — when you're older," Carolyn smiled.

"Mom, I'll be twenty-one in November!"

"Then, you can figure it out without elucidation," Daniel said.

"Uh, right," the young man shrugged. Sometimes he still didn't have a clue as to what his mother and step-father were thinking. "Well, Kyle and Adam and I are going bowling today. I mean, if you don't need me for anything."

"Have a good time," Carolyn said to give her blessing.

"Thanks! I should be back around — four? Four-thirty? To shower and shave and stuff, right?" His parents nodded. "Then, may I be excused please?" he asked, bolting the last of his muffin.

"Yes," Carolyn half sighed.

"Thanks, Mom." He kissed her on the cheek and was gone.

"Something wrong, Mrs. Gregg?" Martha asked, as one eyebrow went up.

"No," she looked puzzled.

"Oh. You sort of sighed there for a second, and I wondered if anything else was wrong, other than Mr. Nyland."

"I'll miss Jon when he goes back to college soon."

"Aye," Daniel nodded. "It has been good to have him home for the summer. But college seems to steady him. Maybe by the time he graduates, he will have a fixed career in mind. He doesn't seem so interested in working on a cruise ship anymore."

"Well, the Love Boat is hardly a tall ship," Martha noted.

"True, more a floating city, really. No spirit."

"Unless one of you guys goes along to haunt the ship," the older woman jibed.

"Not likely," Daniel scoffed. "I am quite happy here at Gull Cottage. I'd love to see it though. Maybe if it comes to that, it could be arranged. But as I said, Jon hasn't talked about it lately; not so much as a mention of a ship he would like to find a position on. I won't say "crew," because it's not the same thing at all."

"Maybe we can have another honeymoon, some time," Carolyn mused.

"Now THAT would be marvelous," Daniel gave his lady a special look.

"If you two want to be alone, just say so," Martha said.

"Later," Daniel winked, at which point his lady blushed furiously.

XXX

By the middle of the morning, Claymore knew that he was glad he'd never decided on tour guide as a career. At least, judging from the way his temporary stint as one was going, it was not his vocation. Clearly, no matter where he took Reggie, the other man was bored out of his skull. He wished that someone else was with them. Sean or Molly, with their marvelous Irish lilts, or the Captain's or Fontenot's profound voices, or Tristan's humor could make even the most 'provincial' places seem intriguing surely! As they entered the museum, the cousins almost ran into Bree as she was coming out with a dolly loaded with various things to help lend atmosphere to the cotillion.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you coming in," the young woman apologized ruefully. "My mind's going in fifty directions, perhaps more, but I stopped counting." Her eyes strayed to Reggie and a brow lifted questioningly.

"No problem," Claymore said hastily.

"None at all," Reggie added in an oily tone. "In fact, it is our—" and the way he said "our" made it clear he meant Claymore's, "—fault. "As gentlemen, we ought to be helping you with your—" He gestured vaguely, not at all sure what she was up to, or caring.

"I was just about to offer," Claymore frowned.

"As you were just about to make introductions, I'm sure," Reggie countered; his tone just shy of sniping outright.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was," Claymore sniffed. "Bree Montgomery, this is Reginald Nyland, my cousin I told you about."

"I'd shake your hand, but don't want to lose my grip on this," Bree told Reggie. "Don't dare damage any of these artifacts after Mr. Emerson was kind enough to loan them to me to help create atmosphere tonight." Very pointedly, she added, "I'll thank you, Claymore, and the entire town council, for authorizing the use."

"Claymore could hold onto your burden," Reggie volunteered his cousin. Clearly, he would have liked to shake her hand, or inflict a kiss on it.

"It's balanced just right," Bree refused as politely as she could. "Letting it go for a second would be a mistake."

"My loss, my dear," Reggie smiled. "Perhaps there will be another time, yes? Perhaps you will save me a dance tonight?"

"Uh—" Bree paused. Not if she could help it. "—Yes, of course. Right." She gave Claymore a quick look of sympathy. "So, I will be seeing you two—" She stopped at saying the word 'gentlemen' in reference to Mr. Nyland. "—you two at the cotillion?"

"All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't keep me away," Reggie answered, giving the young woman a quick look up and down. "I can't wait to see your dress for the dance, my dear."

"Nothing fancy, I assure you," Bree answered shortly. "It's a working evening for me. Listen, I have to run. I'll see you tonight, Claymore. Save me a dance, won't you? Uh — I'll see you, too, Mr. Nyland." A moment later she was off.

"Lovely girl. You say she's related to his Lordship?" Reggie asked.

"Yeah his gr — uh great niece, I think," Clay answered vaguely.

"He doesn't seem that old," Nyland frowned.

"Maybe it's just niece. I don't know. She's family, and she's a nice girl, very bright. Bree runs Charles Dashire's foundation like she has been doing it her whole life. That's enough for me."

Reggie nodded, not that interested in Claymore's opinion. "So what else do you have planned to amuse me today?" he went on. "It would appear we have seen everything there is to see, here. I suppose we could take in a movie. I notice your theater only plays last year's releases."

"Sure, if you like," Claymore agreed, even though it was more than he had planned on spending that day. "Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to see the Maritime Museum in Castine? It's famous around these parts. You could see a movie anywhere. And as you said, they are last year's, nothing new and interesting there."

"More dusty fish stuff?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Museums may be fine for you, but they really aren't my thing, old boy, at least not all this nautical fare. I prefer the fine arts, Michelangelo, Monet, Van Gogh, But if you must—"

"I was thinking of what YOU might like," Clay huffed.

"No don't ruffle your feathers, Cuz! Really, I'd just as soon stay here and watch a movie or something. I mean, after all we will out until all hours tonight. You ARE going this cotillion thing, aren't you? Even without a date? I mean, you have a good suit and all that?"

"Of course I do! I've got lots of fine clothes." Now, he added, silently to himself.

"Of course, I'm sure, at least for 1981," Reggie sniffed. "Don't worry about it, styles haven't changed much."

"I have it on good authority—" Claymore clenched his fists inside his jacket pockets, thinking of the coaching he had received from Dash, and the ladies of the crew, "That I am very much in style." How he DID wish that Paige had been able to go with him to the dance! She had been willing, but the ghosts had an engagement to perform Connecticut Yankee IN Connecticut, and she couldn't get out of it. "Now then, why don't we go over to the diner, grab a cup of coffee? The movie won't start for another half an hour or so, and there won't be much of a line at the matinee. My Favorite Year is playing."

"Have they heard of decaf? I know I'd be pushing my luck to want Perrier."

Claymore rolled his eyes. "Actually, they have both. It's just the movie theater that runs a little behind, most of the time. So shall we go?"

"Lead on."

XXX

They had been seated just long enough to get coffee for Claymore and Perrier for Reggie, when Norrie Coolidge opened the door of the diner and looked around. Spying the two men in a corner booth, he made a beeline in Claymore's direction.

"Norrie, I'm really not being disloyal. Since we aren't having anything but a drink, the diner is closer to the movie—" Claymore began to justify himself.

"Who's being disloyal?" Norrie blinked. "Forgetful, Claymore, but not disloyal."

Now it was Claymore's turn to look startled. "Forgetful? Forgetful about what?"

"We had an appointment, today! A half-hour ago! I have a bunch of papers that need to be notarized, and I would really just as soon you watch me sign them. And you have to read them all first. You told me that, years ago."

For a moment, Claymore hesitated and then nodded. "I got distracted, my cousin's here, and there's the dance—" He glanced at his watch. "I don't want to miss the start of the movie, but if we hurry, I can manage." He frowned. "I just forgot about you, Norrie. I apologize." He turned back to his cousin. "Will you be all right here for about ten, fifteen minutes, Reggie? Maybe twenty? I did promise Norrie, and as they say, a notary's work is never done."

"I'd heard a different version, but go ahead. I'm fine, "Reggie dismissed them.

"Well, thanks, fella," Norrie drawled. "And you, too, Claymore. We could do it here, I imagine."

"No-no-no, that's quite all right," Claymore said quickly. "My office is just across the street, and my notary seal is over there anyway."

A moment later the two men had left, and Reggie was alone in the quiet diner. But not for long, for a couple of minutes after the departure of his relative, a fiftyish looking woman opened the door of the diner with a bang, and she and two others made their way to the booth next to him and sat down in a huff.

"I don't know why Miss Montgomery's behavior shocked you, Penelope," a nasal voice bit out. "Her type of woman — well — you know how THEY are."

"She always seemed rather — sweet, in an odd sort of way," a breathy, vague voice fretted.

"Margaret, she LIVED with those SIX actors," the older woman snapped. "Of course she picked up a few — shall we say — tricks of the trade." There was a most unladylike snort, followed by, "You know, most of them were old enough to be at least her father, OR grandfather!"

"Paul, Jim, and Jason were young and good looking," the youngest whined. "That's three, that's half."

"But the other three were not, and there might have been more, somewhere else. You just never know." There was a pause, then the sharp voice continued, "I bet she's after Mr. King, too. He is very rich, after all. She might toy with young Mr. Matthews, but you can bet she's got her eyes on bigger fish."

"Do you think Mr. Dashire is really her uncle?" the breathy voiced woman asked. "But, surely he wouldn't cheat on the doctor!"

"There is a slight resemblance between them, so she might be his relative. I don't think Dr. Avery, or Dashire, whatever it is she calls herself, would put up with him stepping out. She's hard as nails, that one; no bedside manner at all."

"Blackie shouldn't be dating her, Bree, I mean," the youngest said in a pouty voice. "That kind of woman is not a pastor's wife in the making."

"This is true, and if he persists, we might need to contact the Presbytery."

"But, surely—" the breathy voice said, again, "The Reverend can't be told who to date, or not date, can he? I mean, he IS single, and we don't know for SURE that Bree Montgomery has any skeletons in her closet — I mean, if you LIKE Reverend Blackwood, Penny, it is HER that needs to be told what is what, not Blackie."

"I'm telling you, I saw her clinging to Tristan Matthews like she owned him, right there in the middle of the shopping mall," Penny whined again. "She shouldn't be allowed to parade herself in front of two guys at the same time, especially when I knew them BOTH before she did."

"I think she is trying to have her cake and eat it, too," the sharp voice sneered, "See the respectable Reverend by day and swing with Mr. Matthews by night, and heaven-knows-what in between. Her actors have visited a time or two, also. Who knows what goes on in that rented cottage of hers? She could be having orgies for all we know!"

Twins gasps of horror reached his ears.

"But you can't PROVE that, can you, Jane?" the breathy voice asked.

"No, but I have my suspicions. Gull Cottage has been attracting the wrong sort for years! Remember that story Carolyn Muir, I mean, Miles wrote? Maiden Voyage?"

"Now you KNOW her husband, Daniel Miles, admitted he wrote it," the breathy voice answered.

"OR claimed to! We don't know if he was just being chivalrous."

"I don't care about Maiden Voyage," came the whiny voice again, "I care about this chit Englishwoman charming Blackie away from me when she has seven guys — maybe more, dangling from her string already!" She sniffed. "I bet she would drop them all if some other suave type gave her the time of day."

"If it was a Rolex," the sharp voiced one sniped.

"Wish they would, then," the youngest grumbled, "Someone who could impress her with his — his suaveness, and looks, and people he knows. Older guy, too — I know she digs older men. Like the actors. Then she could run off with him — or at least Blackie would see what kind of a hussy he has taken up with."

Reggie raised an eyebrow. So the English lass likes to swing, does she?

"Give her enough rope, she'll hang herself," Jane Shoemaker clucked. "There's the cotillion tonight. Maybe Reverend Blackwood will catch her flirting with Tristan."

"Maybe some other man will catch her eye," Margaret Coburn put in.

"Both COULD happen with that one."

"Maybe, but I don't want Candy Muir's rejects, even if he is cute."

"No one said you had to take him."

"Bree Montgomery is the one who will go with every man in town. She's the one I'm mad at. I just wish everyone else could see it."

"I'm sure they will. Come. We need to go."

A minute later the three women had left the money for their check on the table and were out the door.

Reggie rubbed his chin. That girl DID say she would save me a dance, didn't she? Could be she was insinuating more than I originally supposed? Do I dare hope? He rubbed his hands together. You've still got it, Reggie Boy! And won't my dear cousin be fit to be tied? I wonder how rich her uncle, Lord Dashire REALLY is?

Before he could think further, Claymore returned.

"Ready for the movie?" Claymore asked, "Sorry to be so long."

Reggie shrugged, a glint coming to his cold blue eyes. "Quite all right, cousin. Sometimes you can learn a great deal, just by surveying the passing scene."

Looking confused, Claymore gulped the last of his now cold coffee and said, "Well, come on."