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HARD HIT

ICECATS SERIES

TONI ALEO
Copyright © 2021 by Toni Aleo

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

Created with Vellum

For my husband, because he built me a badass SheShed and Hard
Hit is the first book I wrote in it!
 CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue

ALLY IS HERE!!!!
Also by Toni Aleo
Acknowledgments
About Toni Aleo
 INTRODUCTION

BEFORE YOU GET STARTED!

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 CHAPTER ONE

K irby

I sigh hard .
Harder than I normally would.
I notice I do that a lot more now that the Stanley Cup series is
over. I don’t lose well. Especially twice in a row, and to the same
team. The fucking Nashville Assassins. I hate them. They may have
some cool dudes on it, but together, they’re a mountain we couldn’t
conquer. Even when we had a three-game advantage over them,
they still came back and won. Four games straight. No one thought
they could do it. Everyone had us, the IceCats, as the winners of the
most coveted Cup, but the Assassins didn’t give up. It’s so fucking
annoying, though you can’t help but be impressed with them.
Still, I’m beyond unsatisfied and extremely frustrated with myself,
my team, and the hockey gods.
The IceCats have had two chances to win the Cup, and we
couldn’t do it. We couldn’t close, no matter how much we fought,
how many times we came from behind, and no matter that we have
the best goalie in the league. I mean, Nico Merryweather won the
best goalie trophy three years in a row, yet we can’t give him the
Cup. I don’t get it. I don’t know why we haven’t won. We have one
hell of a coach. A great team of strong players and, again, the best
goalie in the league. Why? Why can’t we win the ultimate prize?
It’s so frustrating. I’ve spent my whole life wanting that Cup. I
didn’t have the best home life. I got thrown back and forth between
my parents, and the only reason I played hockey was because they
guilted each other to make the other pay. When I was old enough to
work, I started working at my home rink just so my fees were paid
and the fighting could stop. I would get hand-me-down gear, and
most of the time, I slept at the rink. That way, I didn’t have to hear
my mom getting her ass beat by my stepdad, and on the weeks I
was supposed to be with my dad, I didn’t have to watch him be a
drunk.
It wasn’t easy, but I knew what I wanted. To be a Stanley Cup
winner. To get there, though, I couldn’t worry about my dumpster
fire of a family. My dad died in a drunk driving accident my freshmen
year in college, and my mom divorced her abusive husband and
married once more, starting a brand-new family. I was forgotten
very quickly, and I soon realized, if they weren’t worried about me
and my dreams, why should I worry about them?
Even with the emotional buttload of shit I was dealing with, I
worked my ass off on the ice and, most of all, at school. Being a
Michigan Wolverine, I had no choice but to grind. Not only did I have
my pride, but I wanted to make my coach and my school proud.
While I did have scholarships, I still had to work for food and
anything I wanted to do for fun. Though, I didn’t have much time for
anything else. It was hockey, school, work. Same thing, every day.
Some would get burned out, but for me, my goal was my driving
force. I never stopped grinding, even when my girlfriend—who is
now my ex-girlfriend and the mother of my daughter—wanted me to
quit, I didn’t. She wanted me to herself, but I had a goal that was
bigger than her. I should have known back then it wouldn’t work
out, but I ignored it.
Lilly Paige sat beside me when I was drafted. Not my mom or my
dad. My college coach was there and even my coach from when I
was growing up, but they weren’t beside me the way Lilly was. I’ll
never forget when they called me—first round, ninth pick for the
IceCats—how I felt. I was so proud. I was ready to kick some ass.
Lilly was over-the-moon excited for me, and that night, I proposed. I
was convinced she was it, but she wasn’t.
I just wanted the whole American dream.
Dream job.
Dream wife.
Dream family.
Which would mean my life would be ten times better than it was.
It was nice to have someone to love me. I wanted it so desperately.
Love. I craved it. My parents didn’t really step up to that blue line,
and when I found it, I wouldn’t let go. Even when I knew I should
have.
Lilly and I are toxic together. She never knew when to stop; she’d
push my buttons until I lost it and had to leave. She didn’t like that I
would leave, and she’d start another fight once I was back home.
She loved to spend my money, but most of all, she couldn’t handle
being alone. It usually led to her sleeping with the cable guy or pool
guy. I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. While I wish I would have
found anyone else other than her to love and be loved by, I know if I
hadn’t met Lilly, I wouldn’t have my daughter.
Oh, my gorgeous Celeste.
 I’ve done a lot of things in my life, some good and some bad, but
Celeste, she’s the best damn thing I have accomplished. I may want
the Cup, and it may suck that I don’t have it, but at the end of the
day, I get to be Celeste’s daddy, and nothing compares to that.
Which reminds me, Lilly should be on her way with her. I glance at
the clock above my stove as I put away the formula and baby food I
got in preparation for my week. Since it’s summer, the parenting
plan says we alternate weeks of care for Celeste. I wish I could have
her all the time, every single day, but that would mean I would have
to have Lilly. And I’d be damned before I let her in my life again.
I almost got away from her, but she came back pregnant with
Celeste. I gave it my best shot the second time, but nope, like
always, she couldn’t seem to keep her legs closed. It may make me
a dick, but I had a paternity test done to make sure Celeste was
mine. Thankfully, she is, because when she was born, I fell in love
with her. My sweet princess.
I move through the kitchen getting things ready, which was what
I was doing before I started daydreaming about not having the
Stanley Cup. I really need to stop doing that. It is what it is. I don’t
have it—move on, work harder. All I can do is stay in shape this
summer and soak up as much time with Celeste as I can get. When
the season starts, it’s going to be hard, but we’ll manage. We’ve
been doing it for six months, and I don’t doubt we’ll continue the
same. I may greatly dislike Lilly, but I force myself to outwardly
respect her for Celeste’s sake.
Lilly doesn’t do the same for me, though.
She treats me like crap, guilts me when Celeste isn’t with me and
I’m playing hockey. I asked her not to bring a man around my child
until she’s dated him more than a month, but she ignores that wish
at every opportunity. Could be because the average length of a
relationship for her is a week, but still. It drives me crazy she won’t
honor that one request. I guess I shouldn’t expect much since I
asked her not to cheat on me too, and she still did that. The guy
she’s with now, though, Marc, has been around for a month, so
here’s to hoping he locks her down. Not because I want Lilly happy,
but because I want stability for Celeste.
I don’t understand Lilly, to be honest. She doesn’t seem to care
about what is best for Celeste. Only herself. It makes no sense since
she comes from a solid upbringing, good parents, and a great family.
Meanwhile, I raised myself, and I’m out-parenting her, tenfold. Pretty
sure her parents feel sorry for me, for Celeste, but no one corrects
her behavior. Except me. I don’t give a shit. Treat my child right, or
I’m calling you out and fixing the situation. She could be a good
mom—if she wanted to. She doesn’t want to, and that annoys me.
Really, everything annoys me lately.
I move through my house, picking up and cleaning up so that the
house is ready for Celeste. I bought a nice home on the beach right
when we found out Lilly was pregnant. My teammate and buddy,
Chandler, and his family live on the other side of the beach in a
smaller neighborhood, but word is, his wife is pregnant again and
now he’s looking over here by me. It would be nice to have a friend
close since I live between two older couples. They’re wonderful
people, but they sure do love being in my business. They really don’t
like Lilly, but they love Celeste, which is good.
I never saw myself in a large home. Especially since I slept at the
rink for most of my life. Now though, I have a pretty decent four-
bedroom beach home that I love. Things may not be how I dreamed
them, but at least I have a career, a daughter, and a house I love.
One day, a wife will come, but for now, I want to focus on training
and Celeste. Maybe even upgrade the deck in the back. Something
kid-friendly for when Celeste starts walking. I look out the large
gallery windows to where my back deck is. It’s a nice deck, but the
wood planks are way too far apart. It’s more decorative than
practical. I want to replace them so I can take Celeste out there.
When the doorbell rings, I pull my gaze from the deck and the
beautiful view of the ocean and head for the front door. It should be
Lilly with Celeste, and when I open the door, I’m filled with joy at
the sight of my blue-eyed baby girl. I reach for her, taking her
chubby self in my arms and hugging her tightly.
“There’s my girl. How ya doing, CC?” She coos happily as I kiss
her fat cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I take a quick glance,
expecting to see irritation on Lilly’s face. She hates when I don’t
greet her and just take the baby, so I make sure to do it every time.
Petty? Yes. But to my surprise, she doesn’t look irritated. Instead,
concerned. Or worried. I kiss Celeste again before I turn my
attention to Lilly. She walks inside, setting a bunch of bags on the
floor. Way more than what I need for a week. I meet her gaze as
she looks up. “You didn’t need to bring so much. I have stuff too.”
She shrugs as she swallows noticeably. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says, and I wish I didn’t still find her beautiful.
Celeste takes after her with the bright blond hair and light-blue eyes.
Celeste looks like me, but she lacks my darker coloring. Instead,
she’s a beach babe like her mom. Lilly exhales heavily as she tucks
her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “Marc and I are going to
Italy.”
I shrug. “Okay. Just let me know what time you’ll be in on
Sunday, and I’ll have her ready.”
She shakes her head, and I eye her curiously. “I won’t be back.”
“Huh?”
 “Marc has a job offer, and I knew you wouldn’t let me take
Celeste, so I’m leaving her with you so I can go with him.”
“To Italy.”
“Yes.” She says it with no concern, no remorse.
“And you’re leaving Celeste here, with me?”
“Yes.”
I blink. “I don’t understand. So, when will you be back?”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
I want to say I’m surprised. I want to say I expected more from
her, but I’m not and I don’t. “So, because you want to go with your
boyfriend, you’re abandoning your daughter.”
That sparks something in her eyes as she glares at me. “I’m not
abandoning her. She’s with you.”
“So, you aren’t going with your boyfriend?” I ask dryly, and her
glare deepens.
“Kirby, don’t be a dick.”
“Don’t be a dick. My daughter’s mother is leaving her for a man—
please tell me how I am supposed to take this. Do you want me to
be happy for you?”
“That’d be nice. You don’t think I’m a good mom anyway! You
want her all to yourself.”
“That’s true, but she still needs you, Lilly. Grow the hell up.”
She rolls her eyes. “I never wanted to be a mom, and you know
that.”
“Sure, but here we are, and Celeste needs you. Think of her.”
The look on her face tells me she has absolutely no intention of
staying. Or even coming back. “I don’t want to, Kirb. I don’t want to
be a mother. You should have just let me abort her.”
It’s like she’s stabbed me in the stomach. “Lilly, you don’t mean
that.”
 “I do. I don’t want to be a mom. Not everyone is made for this
life, and I’m not. I don’t want this. I never did. I did it for you.”
I know this woman. I know how she thinks. There is no changing
her mind. “You’re making a mistake, Lilly. Honestly.”
“I’m doing what’s best for her. She’s better off with you.”
Before I can even stop her, she’s out the door without even a
goodbye to her daughter. Within seconds, every single emotion runs
through my body.
Anger—I really do hate that woman.
Sadness—Celeste deserves better than this.
Fear—How am I going to do this on my own?
But then Celeste leans her face on mine, moving her fingers
along my jaw, and I feel the ultimate feeling.
Love.
“We got this, CC,” I whisper, but I know she doesn’t understand
me or even know what I am saying. “Me and you, love bug.”
Really, I am telling myself more than I am telling her.
 CHAPTER TWO

J aylin

“T he cost of supplies from the Brinton Company is beyond

ridiculous, and no matter how much I tell Jonson we need to find
another supplier, he isn’t listening.”
I have no clue who Jonson is, or even the Brinton Company.
This is the third time I’ve been out to lunch with Malcolm
Franklin, and I really don’t understand why he talks about his job at
the hospital like I know anything about it. I may date a lot of doctors
—since my mother sets me up weekly with all her church friends’
sons—but that doesn’t mean I know a thing about the hospital.
Honestly, I don’t even care. I don’t even really care for Malcolm. He’s
a very handsome man. Dark-brown eyes, a nice fade in thick,
coarse, curly hair. He’s skinny, not much muscle to him, but he’s
smart. Very smart. I like that. He wears thin wire frames. And I
know we’re meeting during his lunch shift, but surely, he can leave
his lab coat in the car. I don’t know why it bugs me that he wears it,
but it does.
 I don’t understand why my mom wants me to be with a doctor.
She is hard-core setting me up with her friends’ brothers, sons,
cousins, dads—I mean, if he’s a doctor and he’s a black man, I’m on
a date with him. I could say no, but guilt eats me alive if I do. I
know why she does this. She was there to take care of me when I
had breast cancer, but she might not be there if it comes back, and
she wants me to be cared for. I get it. I do. But I don’t think I’m
meant to be with a doctor. Shit, in all reality, I may not be meant for
anyone. I’ve been on twenty dates in the last couple months and no
sparks. If I hadn’t felt that spark last year, I might not believe it’s
attainable, but I did. Though, that didn’t work out…
“How’s the Collins’ case—”
“Why don’t you leave your lab coat in the car?”
His brown eyes meet mine, confusion filling his features. He
draws in his thick brown brows, and he parts his lips a bit. He has
the perfect complexion; he must have not had acne growing up. I
did, which is why I wear makeup everywhere. He’s just too put
together. I’m not saying I want a shitshow as a partner, but when I
let my crazy out, I don’t want to be judged for it. “Sorry?”
“Your lab coat. You wear it every time we go out.”
“I’m coming from the hospital. It’s a part of me in a way,” he says
with a wry laugh. “Does it bother you?”
“A little,” I say, leaning on my hand. “It reminds me of all the
times I sat in chemo.”
Compassion fills his features as he nods slowly. “I’m sure it does,”
he says, and then he takes his coat off. “Want me to take it to the
car?”
Now I feel silly. “No, you didn’t even need to take it off.”
His lips move a bit at the side. Not a smirk but still a movement.
“I wanted to. For you. I really like you, Jaylin.”
 Fuck me. I smile kindly. “You’re great, Mal, and I enjoy our
lunches—”
“But?”
I smile, even though he looks so dejected. “But I’m not feeling
it.”
“It?” he asks, his eyes holding mine.
“The spark.”
“A spark, huh?” he says with a little bit of laughter. “There aren’t
sparks anymore at our age. Now, it’s about finding someone to live
life with. Have some kids before it’s too late. Be real, Jaylin.”
“At our age? What does that even mean?”
“It means we can’t be picky. It’s time to have kids.”
My jaw drops. “Malcolm, I’m only thirty-three.”
“And I’m almost forty.”
I blink. “Okay, well, for me, I want the spark.”
He nods before he gets up, grabbing his coat. “I won’t waste
either of our time, then. It was nice to get to know you. Have a
good life.”
And without another glance or even a word, he walks out with
that damn coat hanging over his arm. I watch as he leaves, going
over what just happened. Am I getting to the age where I have to
settle for someone who’s just okay? Or someone I can tolerate for
the rest of my life? I don’t want that. I want someone who gives me
the fucking spark. Someone I look at and feel safe. Someone I know
has my back, as I’ll have his. I don’t know why I want a man—I’m a
pretty independent chick, but I do want one. I want my forever.
And I blame this all on my best friend.
W hen I arrive at Willz Sub Shop, I park beside my best friend’s new
SUV and laugh at the sight of it. My best friend, Aviva, never wanted
an SUV, or a minivan, but I don’t think she was ever looking for
anyone like Nico Merryweather either. As I head to the door, I notice
that it’s not busy since the lunch rush just finished, but there are
some folks inside. Behind the counter, Aviva moves around, acting
like she isn’t six months pregnant. I shake my head as I sit at the
newly installed counter. I’m pretty sure they built this so Nico could
eat and stare at Aviva with only a sheet of glass between them.
When Aviva sees me, she grins before leaning on the counter.
“The usual? Oh, wait. You had lunch with Malcolm.”
“Yup. And paid for it too since he left.” Her eyes widen as I nod,
rolling my own. “That’s over.”
“Over? It just started.”
“I know, but he said we’re at the age where we need to settle
down and have kids with someone we like, not feel a spark with.”
She makes a face. “Jesus.”
“Exactly.”
She leans on her elbows, watching me, and I let out a long sigh.
“This is your fault,” I accuse, and she laughs as she stands up,
cupping her belly.
“There it is,” she chuckles as she shakes her head. “No one said
you had to want what I have.”
“Well, when you flaunt it all the time, it’s hard not to!”
“I don’t flaunt it.”
I shoot her a deadpan look. “Aviva, you legit are always happy.
Like, it’s sickening.”
She mocks, “Apparently not too sickening, because you want the
same.”
 Ah, she’s got me there, and she knows it. She giggles as Callie,
her baby sister, comes out from the back. She’s in a leotard and
shorts, ready to go to gymnastics, I assume, since that’s where she
always is. She was awarded a scholarship to the University of
Bellevue in Nashville for gymnastics and academics for the fall. It’s
pretty badass, and I cried like a baby during her graduation. Not
sure if I cried more then or when she had her double mastectomy
surgery this past spring. It’s a toss-up since I love that girl
something fierce.
Aviva and I both raised her. After Aviva’s mom died, it was Aviva,
Callie, and me against the world. Of course, my parents were
awesome and helpful, but Aviva’s dad was a piece of shit for sure. It
was okay, though, because we had each other. Unfortunately, it
wasn’t just the world we were against.
Breast cancer has always been the enemy.
A bastard of one too. Aviva and I went through a lot of it
together, and I think watching us terrified Callie. Add in the fact that
she carries the gene for the same cancer we both had, the same
cancer that killed her mom, and she was dead set on having the
double mastectomy. Now, she has small little implants that don’t get
in the way of her gymnastics but still give her that womanly feeling.
I promised her tattooed nipples when she finishes her first year of
college. We’re also waiting for Aviva to get her implants, which is
planned for after the baby is born.
She was supposed to get them with Callie, but a surprise
pregnancy stopped that.
Not that I think she cares about the implants at all. Never in my
life have I seen Aviva this happy. She has always put on a brave face
for Callie and me, but once she rear-ended Nico, even I knew things
were about to change for her. He worships her, and I don’t think she
could love him any more. He makes her love herself, and I love that
about him. I am so thankful for him, but it’s because he is so
wonderful that I want a Nico of my own. I want someone to look at
me the way he looks at Aviva and to love me the way he loves her. I
never craved that until now.
Until I saw what it was like to be loved by a man who completes
you.
Don’t get me wrong, I want the house, the husband, and the
kids, but I’ve been so career-driven for so long, I ignored that
yearning. I fought through school to get my degree and the respect
of my peers. I was the only black woman in my program, and my
pride wouldn’t allow me to settle for anything but perfection. Then I
joined a firm where I didn’t belong. It was a male-dominated firm,
and while they may have had some people of my race on staff, we
still weren’t treated the way we should have been.
I joined the firm I’m at now about four years ago. I knew the
moment I walked in that I’d found my home. Feliciana Montcrieff
graduated from the same program I did, just twenty years before
me. She is one badass chick and powerful as all get-out. I never
thought I would find a boss who gets me the way she does, and I
love working for her. There’s been talk of her making me partner, but
sometimes I’m unsure if I want that. If I want to have a family and a
life outside of the firm, I may have to settle for being an awesome
lawyer instead of the boss. I guess, in a way, I’ll be the boss of my
household.
While it does scare me to think that might not be enough, I feel,
deep in my soul, it will be. I want to be loved. I want to be
appreciated and worshiped. That person is out there for me. I just
have to find him. However, he has been very hard to find thus far.
“Off to the gym, sweet girl?”
 Callie beams at me as she comes around the counter. “Yup,
trying to get my training in with Amelia before I leave.”
Amelia is her coach, and she actually competed at Bellevue. She
was an incredible gymnast; I know this because I may have stalked
her online to make sure she was good enough for Callie. Thankfully,
now she’s an incredible coach and mom. We like her around here,
and she’s an IceCats’ wife, so Aviva sees a lot of her at Nico’s hockey
gatherings and events. I don’t even have a toe in the hockey world,
but since I represent Aviva, I have gotten some clients from the
IceCats.
“That’s cool. Ready to be a big girl off at college?”
She grins. “Yes and no,” she says shyly. “I don’t want to leave
everyone. I know I’ll come back for the birth, which is good, but I
still don’t want to leave. Then I remember I can’t date anyone with
Nico around, wanting to kill them.”
I snort when, as if on cue, Nico comes out of the back. He gives
her a look as he wraps his arms around both his girls before he
beams at me. “Hey, Jay.”
“Hey, Nico,” I sing to him, and he kisses Aviva’s cheek before
patting Callie on the head. He towers over both of them, and I guess
it’s good he’s bigger than a tree since he’s the goalie for the IceCats.
He’s a good dude; Nico is. A little weird and has absolutely no filter,
but he’s a great guy for Aviva and Callie. I hear he’s going to adopt
Callie once he and Aviva get married. Callie will be over eighteen,
but I still think it’s sweet. He loves them both so damn much. Callie
moves out of his arms, grabbing her bag from the side of the
counter.
“Gotta run. I’ll see you guys later.”
With that, Callie makes her exit as I lean forward on my hands.
Aviva watches as her sister leaves, crossing the parking lot to where
her gymnastics gym is. I know Aviva isn’t handling her sister going
away to college well. Can’t blame her. It’s always only been Aviva
and Callie, with me, of course, for a long time.
“It’s going to be fine. We’ll go visit whenever you want.”
She gives me a small smile before Nico kisses her cheek and then
grabs his keys. “What she said.”
I wink at him, and I know it makes me an asshole since I’m
aware it makes him uncomfortable, but I do it anyway. He doesn’t
like to look me, or anyone but Aviva and Callie, in the eye. It’s odd,
but he could ignore me forever as long as he is good to my girls.
With apprehension in her eyes, Aviva sighs heavily. She cups her
growing belly and glances back at Nico. She doesn’t talk much about
Callie leaving, but it’s all over her face that she doesn’t want her to
go. “Where are you going?”
“I gotta run to Kirby’s.”
I choke on my spit at the sound of his name.
The one that got away. Sigh. But really, is it getting away when
we never actually started anything? Just a lot of good conversations
and fun nights. Nothing sexual, nothing intimate. Just friendly and
fun. Still, my heart skips a beat, trips, and falls face first on itself. His
name, Kirby Litman… Ugh, it gets me. I wanted so bad for
something to happen between us, but the universe had other plans.
Le sigh.
“Everything okay?”
He grimaces. “Not really.”
“What?” she asks, concern in her voice.
His eyes cut to me and then back to her. “I’ll call you.”
I give him a dry look. “I’m in the inner circle, Nico. Love me!” He
laughs as he heads out. Quickly. Even Aviva is laughing, but when I
glance back at her, I ask, “You’ll tell me later?”
“Totally.”
And that’s why Aviva is my best friend.
 CHAPTER THREE

J aylin

“M s . R aventorn ? Your mother is on line one.”

I hold my groan since, apparently, I’m a professional. It’s hard,
but I also don’t want my assistant to know I don’t have the
willpower or patience to speak to my mother right now. I know for a
fact that Malcolm’s mom has already called my mom to complain
that I blew him off. This means I have now embarrassed my mother
and she will not be able to show her face at Sunday school. Doesn’t
matter that Malcolm only wants me because I’m convenient. Or that
he’s at his prime or whatever the hell he said. I’ve already forgotten.
My mind is full of thoughts of Kirby. I don’t even know why. I
haven’t spoken to him in over a year. When he got back with his
girlfriend, who may or may not have been an ex—I’m not sure what
that situation is—he cut off all contact with me out of respect for
both his girlfriend and me. He didn’t want to lead me on, and with
how gorgeous I am, I know his girlfriend would be jealous. I am
curious to know what’s up with him, though. I hope all is well. But I
know he is okay. He is one of those people who doesn’t ever back
down from a fight. If he wants something or sees a way to make
things better, he’ll make it happen.
I haven’t heard from Aviva, and it’s killing me. I’m dying for the
tea.
“Ms. Raventorn?”
Ugh. My mom. “Yes, sorry. Distracted. Please put her through,
and then can you send me the Oleoff file? For the bookstore?”
“Absolutely,” she says quickly, but before I can thank her, she’s
bringing my mom on the line. “Mrs. Raventorn, you’re on with Ms.
Raventorn.”
Mom doesn’t hold back. “Jaylin Renee! He was a good man!
Good money. He liked you a lot. How am I going to show my face
around church? Now I’m going to have such a hard time getting my
friends to get you dates.”
Oh, poo. “Mom, I don’t need dates, FYI.”
“Jaylin! You’re getting so old. I want grandchildren!”
That’s the second time I’ve been called old… It doesn’t bode
well. “Mom, I’m nowhere near old. I am in the prime of my life. I
don’t understand this—you wanted me to have a career. I got that,
and now, it’s like, bam! Get a husband and a baby. Give me some
time, Mom. Husbands and babies don’t fall from trees.”
I don’t have to see her to know she has her brows touching and
she’s tapping the arm of her recliner. I give her the best headaches,
which is unfair since it’s just me. Why couldn’t my parents have
given me a sibling to take some of the pressure off? Nope. Just me
to have the career, the husband, and the babies. Also, it’s on me to
make sure they have the best care later when they can’t take care of
themselves. She needs to relax before I put her in a home. Not that
I would even do that or say it out loud.
 My mom is terrifying.
“Malcolm is a good man.”
“He only wanted me because I was available and can have his
babies. He wore his lab coat—all the time. It was weird.”
“He’s a doctor, child!”
“And apparently everyone has to know that. It made me feel a
certain kind of way.”
“Honey, he is a good man.”
“Sure, but not the man for me.”
“Jaylin, child, you need a good, rich, black man—”
“I need a good man. The rest doesn’t matter,” I say. I will never
understand my mother’s need for me to marry a black man. I’m not
saying I don’t love black men; I do. I’ve dated or slept with men of
every single skin tone, and it’s been a blast. For me, it’s always been
the soul that attracts me…and the dick. He’s gotta have a huge one,
or he can’t hang.
Literally.
“And I will find him on my own time.”
“You’re killing me, child.”
I swear she says that to me about six times a week. When my
phone sounds, I look down to see a text from Aviva.
SistaFromAnotherMista: No, I haven’t forgotten about you.
Things are a little spotty. Kirby got thrown a curve ball, so now they
are moving things around. These two new players, who are twins,
are coming in and they were supposed to stay with Kirby, but
something happened. So now, everyone is trying to move them, but
Nico doesn’t want them here because he thinks Callie will get
gangbanged by them or some shit, so it’s a hot mess.
My brow perks as my mother bitches about how I don’t have any
need for a man and this is her fault. I don’t have to agree with her
for her to know she’s right. She is. She has raised me to be so
independent that I don’t understand why she thinks I can just settle
for some random dude and be happy. While I do want that, as of
now, I won’t settle for anyone but the best. I deserve it.
I lift my phone up and text Aviva back.
Me: What happened?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Baby momma drama that I can’t talk
about. It’s not good.
My stomach drops. Maybe I should call? That would be weird,
though, and would completely throw Aviva under the bus. But what
could have happened?
Me: Did they break up?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Jay, they’ve been broken up. It’s about
their daughter.
Talk about being kicked in the stomach. I don’t even know the
child, but the fact that she was made from Kirby’s genes, I feel she’s
probably spectacular. Just like he’s spectacular… I really miss him.
I’m a bit embarrassed by the spark of excitement at the thought of
him being single and ready to mingle, but what if he is…
First, though…
Me: Is she okay!!!!!!
SistaFromAnotherMista: Yes, she’s perfectly healthy. Give me
some time. I’ll get back to you.
Me: Oh, thank goodness. On a totally unrelated note, is he
looking for some company?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Jaylin Renee Raventorn. First, that is the
same note, and second, NO! Get it together.
Me: Geez, I was just asking.
When she sends me the side-eyed emoji, I make a face before
setting down my phone. I’m so consumed with thoughts and
Another random document with
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 Ber. That’s all right! That’s all right! I got to be a Berry, and I might
as well be a cranberry as any other kind. Evenin’, ladies. [Exit, c.
Ariel (arranging things on the table, and pouring tea). Here’s
supper, Miss Cynthy. You’ll feel better after you have some hot tea.
Cyn. (looking after Ber.). I—I believe I’m feeling better anyway.
Ber. (outside). Belay there! Heave to! All aboard! Gid’ap! Now,
we’re off!
Ariel (smiling as she listens). I like him, Miss Cynthy; although I
only saw him a minute and didn’t really see him either.
Cyn. (sitting by table and beginning to eat). He’s a splendid man if
there ever was one!
Ariel. Who is with him at the light?
Cyn. An old shipmate. They’re doing their own housekeeping, an’ I
must say I’d like to see the inside of a house run by a couple of men.
Cap’n Berry followed the sea for years, and I have heard tell that he
lost his wife and child in a shipwreck. I don’t believe he’s ever got
over it. From something he said one day I imagine he’s had a pretty
sad and lonesome life, but he certain makes the best of it. He’s
invested in a cranberry bog up the cape, an’ that and his name was
enough to set folks goin’, and he’s pretty generally called Cap’n
Cranberry, but I’m mortified to death to think I should call him that
right to his face.
Ariel. I don’t believe he cared.
Cyn. He wouldn’t let on if he did. My land, Arey, you ain’t told me a
thing about yourself yet. Weren’t it hard to leave school? Won’t it
make a difference when you go back?
Ariel. No, I can catch up with my class when I get my eyes again,
and they bothered me so much I was rather glad to give up the fight
and come home. There’s only one thing bothering me. Father says
Nat Williams is expected home any day.
Cyn. (sharply). Well, what of it?
Ariel. You know what of it!
 Cyn. Now see here, Arey, your father has surely got over that
foolishness. As well as he loves you he won’t try to marry you to a
man you don’t love. Didn’t say anything to-day, did he?
Ariel. No, only that Nat is coming and praised him to the skies,
the way he always does. I can’t imagine why he cares so much for
Nat.
Cyn. (decidedly). Well, you don’t have to even if he does. I don’t
believe your father will start that thing to going again.
Ariel (with a sigh). If he does I had about as soon be dead. I owe
so much to my father, and I want to please him but I never could
make up my mind——(Stops abruptly.)
Cyn. No, of course you couldn’t. I never was struck on Nat myself.
I can’t imagine what ails your father.
Ariel (rising). I must go back. Dad went to the store and I slipped
out. (Takes her coat from chair and puts it on.) If he goes home and
finds me gone such a night as this, he will sound the fire alarm and
get out a searching party. (Kisses Cyn.) Good-night, Miss Cynthy. I—
I—oh, I won’t say anything more to make you feel badly, but I can’t
believe there is anything right about your going away. I’ll see you in
the morning. Good-night. (Opens door, c.)
Cyn. Good-night, dearie. My land, it grows worse! You ought not to
try to go home alone.
Ariel. Nonsense! (Exit.) I guess I know Bay Point.
(Cyn. closes door, walks back to table and pours another cup of
tea. She starts to drink it.)
Ber. (outside). Whoa! Avast there! Heave over your anchor! Ahoy,
Miss Tinker!
Cyn. (surprised). Yes, Cap’n. (Starts toward door.)
Ber. (entering). Didn’t expect me back quite so soon, did you? I’ve
lost my pipe. (Feels in his pocket.) It’s durned queer! I most generally
keep it in this pocket. I thought maybe I dropped it here.
(Begins to look about on the floor.)
 Cyn. (joining in search). I haven’t seen it. Are you sure you had it
with you?
Ber. Sartain! I never travel without it, an’ I declare I’d about as
soon go back home without my head.
Cyn. Land sakes! You can buy another pipe, can’t you?
Ber. Yes, but not jest like this one. This pipe came clear from
Calcutta and it sartain is one of my best friends. That pipe an’ me
has faced some black times together and she has always proved a
true comrade in rough weather. Well, I guess I didn’t drop her here.
(Tries to speak carelessly.) Little gal gone?
Cyn. Ariel? Yes.
Ber. (curiously). Ariel? That ain’t no name for a girl.
Cyn. Ain’t it? I always thought it was real kind of pretty and fancy.
Ber. Fancy enough, but it’s a boy’s name. How’d she happen to
be called that?
Cyn. Well, of course Cap’n Freeman didn’t know her real name
and he said Ariel was some spirit of a storm or a tempest or
something, and the name seemed real fitting.
Ber. (with an effort). Ain’t—ain’t she Freeman’s own daughter?
Cyn. Land, no! Ain’t you never heard nobody tell about Arey
Freeman?
Ber. (leaning against the table and gripping the edge with his
hand). No. Where’d she come from?
Cyn. Abner found her when she was a baby. It was after a big
storm and there’d been a lot o’ shipwrecks and she was lashed to a
spar.
Ber. Where was it?
Cyn. Near some foreign port. I forget where. At first he thought
she was probably a foreign baby, but as she grew older he declared
her folks must have been good Yankees. At any rate he has made a
good one of her. (Suddenly noticing him.) Why, Cap’n Berry, what’s
the matter?
Ber. (pulling himself together). Nothin’, Miss Cynthy, nothing but a
memory. I’ll say good-night again, but not good-bye. Somehow,
something tells me that you ain’t goin’ ter leave us after all. (Exit, c.
Outside.) Port your hellum, Nathan. All aboard!
[Exit Cyn., r., with some of the dishes.
(There is a knock at the door. The knock is repeated. Abner
Freeman enters, c. He is about fifty, tall and straight, iron gray
hair and beard; is rather nervous and inclined to be irritable.)
Abner (as he enters). Cynthy! Cynthy!
Enter Cyn., r., hurriedly.
Cyn. Land, it’s you, Cap’n Abner?
Abner. Yes. Is Cranberry here?
Cyn. No, he has been here but he is gone. Hasn’t been gone but a
few minutes though.
Abner. Couldn’t catch him such a night as this if he hadn’t been
gone but a minute.
Cyn. Dreadful, ain’t it?
Abner. Couldn’t be much worse. I hear you are leaving in the
morning, Cynthy. Doesn’t seem as if there was any need of that.
Cyn. Doesn’t seem so, does it? I have about decided that it isn’t
right.
Abner (sharply). Isn’t right? What do you mean by that?
Cyn. Why, this has always been my home and I think father would
want me to stay in it.
Abner. Your father? What are you bringing him up for? He’s dead.
You don’t know what he would want.
Cyn. (surprised). Goodness, Cap’n Abner, you are touchy to-night.
Abner. Foolishness always makes me touchy. I suppose some
simpleton has hinted to you that your father was cheated or
something and if you had what was rightfully yours you wouldn’t
have to leave.
Cyn. (astonished). Why, Cap’n Abner, have you gone crazy? No
one ever dreamed of such a thing.
Abner. ’Twould be just like them! (Abruptly changes the subject.)
Have you heard that Ariel is at home?
Cyn. (guardedly). Yes, I heard.
Abner. Nat Williams has come home to-night, too.
Cyn. (shortly). Has he? Why do you name them two almost in the
same breath?
Abner. Good couple to name together.
Cyn. To your way of thinking, perhaps.
Abner (walking toward door). It’s a mighty good way. (Turns
uneasily and comes back.) See here, Cynthy, if you want me to, I’ll
lend you some money to keep you going until you can get some
more work of some kind.
Cyn. Why, Cap’n Abner, that’s more’n kind of you.
Abner. I’d be glad to do it. I was always a good friend of your
father’s. You know that, don’t you?
Cyn. Yes, indeed. Father thought everything of you.
Abner. Well, how much do you want?
Cyn. Not anything. I appreciate your kindness but I couldn’t do
that.
Abner. Better do it. I’m perfectly willing.
Cyn. No. No, thank you.
Abner (walking to door). Well, just as you like, but don’t say I
didn’t offer to help you. Good-night.
(Exit, c. Cyn. stands looking after him puzzled for a second; then
she walks to fireplace, turns and looks about the room slowly,
repeats softly.)
 Cyn. “This is my home in foul weather as well as fair. The fog is
lifting and the Keeper of the Beacon is sending me brighter rays to
steer my course.”
(Suddenly and determinedly takes the pictures and vases from
box and places them back on the mantel.)
Obadiah Daniels (knocking on the door). I say, Cynthy! This is
Obed! Kin I come in a minit? (Enters c. He is small and wiry, white
hair and whiskers.) Land, Cynth, I’m nearly drowned! Sech a night
an’ the queerest thing’s happened. Fer the love of Admiral Farragut
will you lend me a lantern?
Cyn. (laughing). I’ll lend you one for love of yourself, Obed. We
don’t need to go way back to Admiral Farragut.
Obad. I wish you meant that, Cynth. ’Tain’t no way to joke with me
’bout love. I should think you’d be ashamed to. You know I’ve been
dying of love for you ever since we learned our a-b-abs together.
Cyn. ’Tain’t love that ails you, Obed, it’s indigestion. You fell in love
with my lunch pail years ago and thought it was me. You never have
got over your love for my—lunch pail!
Obad. By tunket, that ain’t fair, Cynth. I come over here to-night to
tell yer there ain’t no need of your leavin’ Bay Point. If—if—you’d jest
take a pardner into your business—you—you know I’m ready—
more’n ready—hev been fer years.
Cyn. Don’t, Obed! Please! You are kind. I know how kind, and you
deserve a good deal better partner than I would ever make.
Obad. I’d be satisfied. I shouldn’t fret ’bout that a mite.
Cyn. I thought you came for a lantern, Obed.
Obad. No, I wuz comin’ anyway, but I decided I needed a lantern.
Fog’s so thick you can’t cut it with an axe and somebody’s stolen my
pipe.
Cyn. (astonished). What?
Obad. Ever hear tell o’ sech a thing?
 Cyn. (staring at him). Never!
Obad. Land sakes, Cynth, be you struck?
Cyn. I don’t know but I am, or else everybody else is. How did it
happen?
Obad. Why, I wuz walkin’ along an’ some one runs up behind me,
puts his hand in my pocket and then kites off fast as he could go. At
first I was so s’prised I didn’t know what had happened, an’ then
after a second I puts my hand in my pocket an’ my pipe wuz gone. I
suppose he thought he’d got my pocketbook.
Cyn. I ain’t so sure o’ that. You’re the third I’ve heard about that’s
had their pipes took this evening.
Obad. (at the top of his voice). What? Well, fer the love o’ Admiral
Nelson who’s the others?
Cyn. Lemuel Sawyer and Cap’n Cranberry.
Obad. Wal, sufferin’ cats! I’m goin’ right over ter Lem’s! Must be a
lunatic loose in Bay Point, an’ gosh all fog horns, he’ll murder some
one in this fog ’fore he gets through!
Cyn. Wait a second! I’ll get you a lantern!
(Exit, r. Obad. walks about very much upset. Cyn. re-enters with
lantern.)
Obad. (grabbing it and starting for the door). Much obleeged!
Cyn. Obed, you sent word you had somebody to take this house
for me.
Obad. Yes, I hev, Cynth, some folks up to Barnstable.
Cyn. (slowly). Well, tell them please the place ain’t for rent any
longer.
Obad. Hey? How’s that? You mean somebody else has took it?
Cyn. No. I’m going to stay myself.
Obad. You? Why, I thought you couldn’t. What’s happened? Air
you goin’ ter hev some more work to do?
 Cyn. (hesitating a second). Ye-es, I’m going to have some more
work to do.
Obad. (curiously). What are you goin’ ter do, Cynth?
Cyn. I—I can’t tell you to-night.
Obad. Secret, eh?
Cyn. Yes, a secret jest now. I’ll tell you later.
Obad. Wal, I kin wait, I reckon. I’m mighty glad you’re goin’ ter
stay. Good-night, Cynth.
[Exit, c.
Cyn. Good-night, Obed. (Locks the door; goes to fireplace; picks
up box; carries it out r.; reënters; goes to mantel; winds a clock;
goes to center table; picks up lamp; starts toward stairs; stops; half
turns back; repeats softly.) “The fog is lifting and the Keeper of the
Beacon is sending me brighter rays to steer my course.” (Suddenly
speaks impatiently.) Cynthia Tinker, you sartain are the biggest fool
that walks! (Starts toward the stairs.)
Lee Gordon (knocking at door). Oh, I say! The house! (Cyn. turns
back and listens, startled.) Is anybody home? (Knocks again.) May I
come in?
Cyn. (uncertainly). Who—is it?
Lee. You won’t know if I tell you. I’m a stranger around here. I’m
lost and I want some one to tell me where I am at.
Cyn. (putting lamp on table, then slowly unlocking and opening
door). You sound all right. I’ll risk it even if you are a stranger in Bay
Point. Come in!
Enter Lee. He is about twenty-one, very slight and boyish in
appearance and manner. Decidedly likeable.
Lee (with a gasp). Thanks! (Slams the door.) My name is Gordon.
Lee Gordon. (Leans back against the door.) I never was so nearly all
in!
Cyn. I don’t wonder. I don’t know when we ever had sech a night.
Go over by the fire and get dry. And hev something to eat.
 Lee (going toward table). Great! I could eat a whale!
Cyn. (taking teapot from table). I’ll get you some hot tea!
[Exit, r.
Lee (hurrying to door, opening it and speaking cautiously). Pete!
Are you there? Come up into the shelter of the door and I’ll let you in
as soon as I can. (Shuts door; hangs coat on chair by fire. Cyn.
reënters with tea; pours him a cup. He sits down by table.) Say, but
you are kind! I’ve heard about the Cape Cod folks before, and now I
can well believe what I have heard. It’s great of you to do this. How
do you know but what I’ll murder you and get away with the silver?
Cyn. I’ll risk it. If you want to murder me for a butter knife and
seven teaspoons, go ahead. That’s all I got that’s solid.
Lee. Thanks for the tip. I guess it isn’t worth while. In return for
your hospitality I will tell you the history of my bright young life. I’m
an artist and I have come down the cape looking for a place to stay a
while and do some sketching. I have made the trip in an auto, and I
should have had sense enough to have stayed in Orleans over night.
I didn’t realize how bad the storm was going to be.
Cyn. Where’s your car?
Lee. Anchored somewhere above here. I simply couldn’t make it
budge another inch so I had to come on afoot. (Rises.) I’ll have to
find lodgings. Gee! (Looks about.) I hate to go on. Say, you couldn’t
consider——(Hesitates and looks at her doubtfully.) I don’t suppose
you would think of such a thing as—as——
Cyn. As taking you in?
Lee (eagerly). That’s what I meant. Of course it’s awfully nervy of
me but I do like this little house—and—and I like you, too. You have
been so mighty kind. It seems almost as if I was sent right here.
Cyn. (looking at him with a staring look). It does seem that way,
that’s a fact. You can stay.
Lee. Honest? You mean just over night, or as long as I please?
Cyn. As long as you please.
 Lee (joyfully). Say, but that’s great! Gee! What luck!
Cyn. (rising suddenly). Ain’t it? I’ll go right up and see about your
room.
(Exit, r. Reënters with a lamp and exits by stairs.)
Lee (looking after her, goes to door, c., and opens it). Pete! Quick!
Come in!
Enter Peter Pomeroy, c. He is about Lee’s age; inclined to be stout
and usually very good-natured, but now he is decidedly out of
patience.
Peter. Say, of all the——
Lee. Hush! I’m going to stay here! Did you ever hear such luck?
Peter. Never! Where am I going to sleep? In the shade of the
pump in the back yard?
Lee (glancing uneasily toward stairs). No, I’ll try to get you up-
stairs for to-night. The landlady seems to be alone here and she will
never know the difference.
Peter (going to table). And you had some eats! Do you know
what h-o-g spells?
Lee. Hush! Will you? Here! (Opens door, l., cautiously and looks
out.) Get in here out of sight! (Peter grabs some food from table.)
Now, don’t move until I say the word. (Pushes him toward door.)
Peter (as he exits l.). Sure! Fido doesn’t come till he’s called.
Enter Cyn., by stairs.
Cyn. It’s all right, Mr. Gordon. I’ll get you some towels and then
you can go right up.
(She exits r. Lee rushes to door, l., and pulls Peter into room.)
Lee. Pete! Quick!
Peter. For heaven’s sake! I had just got settled to eat lunch!
Lee. Up the stairs, quick! (Pushes him toward stairs.) I’ll be right
up!
 Peter (starting to go up-stairs, turns back). Say, I forgot to tell you
I got three. (Takes three pipes from his pocket.)
Lee (impatiently). Three what? Oh, pipes! Three pipes already!
Good work, old fellow! This is going to be some adventure.
Peter. Huh? I should worry about the adventure. I want my
stomach filled up and a night’s sleep!
[Exit by stairs, eating a piece of bread.
Enter Cyn., r., and hands Lee a lamp and some towels.
Cyn. Now, you can go right up; first door on the right.
Lee. If you knew how much I appreciate your kindness. Why, it’s
too good to be true. (Starts toward stairs.) I think I must be dreaming.
Cyn. Not yet.
Lee (looking back and laughing). But soon! Good-night.
Cyn. Good-night. (Lee exits by stairs. She stands looking after
him.) Well, Cynthia Tinker, maybe you ain’t such a fool after all!
CURTAIN
 ACT II
SCENE.—Same as in Act I. The next morning.
(The table is set for breakfast. Cyn. and Lee are seated at the
table. The center door is open. It is a bright sunlight morning.)
Cyn. More coffee, Mr. Gordon?
Lee (passing her his cup). Don’t care if I do, Miss Tinker. Do you
know, I am positive that I am dreaming!
Cyn. I ain’t sure but I am myself. This has all been rather sudden.
Lee. That doesn’t express it, Miss Tinker. When I think of all the
things that have happened since I left Orleans yesterday noon, I feel
as if I had been struck by a landslide, and landed right side up in
Paradise.
Cyn. Land, Mr. Gordon, that ain’t no way to talk.
Lee. Isn’t it? Well, if these muffins aren’t heavenly, I never struck
anything that was. The only thing that worries me is a fear that you
will regret your kindness in taking in a derelict, and want to withdraw
from your part of the bargain. Do you? I hate like time to give you the
opportunity, but I know I took advantage of the storm to get a shelter
last night. Do you want me to release you?
Cyn. I ain’t said anything about it, have I?
Lee. No, but you certainly are taking a chance. You haven’t even
asked me for references.
Cyn. No, I’m taking you on faith, and if I’m satisfied to do it I
shouldn’t think you need to worry.
Lee (reaching across the table and shaking hands with her). Miss
Tinker, you’re a brick! I feel just as if I had come to visit my aunt, or
something. I hope you will never regret your kindness. (As Cyn.
passes him the plate of muffins.) No, don’t. Have mercy. If I eat
another mouthful I shall have to be helped from the table. (Rises.)
That’s the best breakfast I ever ate, and believe me, the landlady is
way ahead of the breakfast.
Cyn. Land sakes, that’s no way to talk to a woman my age. What
do you think of the view from here?
Lee (going to door). Perfectly corking. It cleared off great, didn’t it?
Cyn. Think this will be a good place for your work?
Lee. Yes, if you happen to have a window on the back looking out
onto a nice quiet little hen-house.
Cyn. (astonished). What on earth do you mean? You don’t want to
paint a hen-house, do you?
Lee. Paint a——(Suddenly realizes what she means.) Oh, no, no,
of course not! I get you now! You—you don’t understand me, of
course. Well, I have to work where there’s nothing to look at.
Cyn. Land o’ goshen, what do you paint?
Lee (airily). Oh, anything, any little thing I take a fancy to. I have a
good long look at it, and then I paint it from memory. If I should look
at the object I was painting I shouldn’t paint, I should just sit and
look.
Cyn. Well, I never heard the beat!
Lee. Odd, isn’t it? I suppose you have heard of the impressionist
art. Well, I belong to a new line. It’s called the memorist art.
Cyn. You don’t say? Well, folks are never satisfied. They’re always
getting up something new. Land, if you’re so newfangled as all that
(glancing at table), I don’t know as I’ll be able to suit you.
Lee (starting toward stairs). I should worry! I may have an up-to-
date line of art, but I’ve got an old-fashioned stomach.
[Exit by stairs.
Cyn. (looking after him and smiling). Land sakes!
(She takes some dishes from table and exits, r.)
Enter Sam., c., in his school suit, cap and sweater.
 Sam. Miss Cynthy! Miss Cynthy! (Stops and listens, then goes to
table.) Gee! Muffins!
(Puts one in his pocket, and starts to eat another. He goes to door,
listens; to stairs, listens; takes two pipes from his pocket, looks
about uncertainly, puts one in the pocket of Lee’s raincoat which
still hangs over chair by fire. He still looks about uncertainly;
goes to table; opens the sugar-bowl, puts other pipe in, and puts
cover on. He then runs out, c. Slight pause. Lee comes half-way
down-stairs. Cyn. enters r. with a pan but without noticing. Cyn.
exits, c.)
Lee (looking up the stairs). Come on! Hurry up! She has gone out
but she is apt to come back!
Enter Peter by stairs.
Peter. Say, how long do you suppose I am going to stand this
“come on, hurry up” business? You seem to think I’m a regular little
baseball ready for you to bat around whenever you happen to be in a
playful mood.
Lee. There, don’t be peeved. Didn’t I get you a shelter from the
storm? Now, get out, quick, and come back later, and ask Miss
Tinker to board you. It’s best we should be in the same house but
whatever you do, don’t let on that you know me.
Peter. Don’t fret! I wish I didn’t. I’m not at all proud of the
acquaintance. (Goes to table.) The way you always manage to get
next to the eats is a caution.
(Eats a muffin and pours some coffee.)
Lee. We must get to work just as soon as possible. I’ve got to
throw a bluff about the artist business. Say, what are you going to
pretend you are doing in Bay Point?
Peter. Don’t let that worry you!
Lee. Well, you don’t want to choose the same thing I have.
Peter. Say, you make me tired! You haven’t got the only crop of
brains on earth. I guess I can think up something for myself, and you
just bet it won’t be any such silly line of labor as you are engaged in.
(Takes all the muffins from the plate and exits, C. Lee stands
looking after him a second and then slowly exits by stairs. Slight
pause.)
Enter Hep., c.
Hep. Cynthy! Cynthy! (Looks about, goes to door, r.) Where are
you? (Cyn. enters c., with a pan of potatoes.) Oh, there you are! I
couldn’t hardly wait to swallow my breakfast. Obed Daniels came
over last night an’ he said you’d got some more work an’ weren’t
goin’ ter leave after all. I wouldn’t ’a’ been ten seconds gettin’ here if
it hadn’t been for the night. Did yer ever see sech a storm as we had
last night? I wuz scared to come over agin. How’d you happen ter git
work after I left, Cynthy? Weren’t it dreadful sudden?
Cyn. Yes, it was rather sudden.
(Sits down and pares some potatoes.)
Hep. And my land, how did you happen ter get work on sech a
night?
Cyn. The storm sent the work to me.
Hep. (astounded). The storm sent it? Cynthia Tinker, what air you
goin’ ter do?
Cyn. Well, I suppose you might as well know one time’s another.
I’ve taken a boarder.
Hep. (with a little scream). A boarder! Cynthy Tinker, who? Fer the
land’s sake, tell me before I die!
Cyn. Hush!
Enter Lee by stairs.
Lee. Pardon me, Miss Tinker.
Cyn. That’s all right. Mr. Gordon, this is one of my neighbors, Mrs.
Sawyer.
Lee. Delighted, I’m sure.
 Hep. (all eyes). Land sakes, I’m pleased to be acquaintanced.
Lee (taking his coat from chair). I think I’ll go up shore and see
what has become of my car.
Hep. I hope you will find it there all right.
Lee. Oh, it’s there! I’m not worried about that. What troubles me is
how I’m going to get it here. [Exit, c.
Hep. (breathlessly). Cynth—is that—you ain’t never—do tell—my
land!
Cyn. Well, Hepsy, are you overcome?
Hep. I—I am! Cynthy, is that young flip your boarder?
Cyn. Yes.
Hep. Where—where did he come from?
Cyn. Out of the storm last night.
Hep. You ain’t telling me that you’ve took in a stranger?
Cyn. No, I’m not telling anything. You are doing the telling, but it’s
what I did.
Hep. What do you know about him?
Cyn. He paid me a month in advance. I don’t need to know any
more.
Hep. Well, I’m beat! I never heard the match! Where did he come
from, and what did he come for?
Cyn. You will have to ask him a few things yourself. I haven’t
known him very long.
Hep. Well, if he’d stayed in my house over night I’ll bet I’d have
known.
Cyn. (impatiently). Do you think we sat up all night?
Hep. And do you know, I wuz so upset when Obed told me about
you gettin’ some work, an’ he didn’t know what, said it wuz a secret.
My land, I thought I should go out o’ my head, I wuz so upset. I
forgot to ask him about that family who wuz coming without any
furniture. It went clean out o’ my mind until he’d gone out an’ then it
come over me all to once. I made one leap for the door and opened
my mouth good and wide to yell Obed! An’ jest then a gust o’ wind
and rain come round the corner an’ knocked my breath clean down
my throat. I thought I wuz a goner fer a second, but the thought o’
them people without any furniture brought me to, but by that time
Obed hed gone an’ I don’t know yet who they be.
Cyn. (dryly). That certain is a pity, Hepsy.
Lemuel Sawyer (outside). Hepsy! Hepsy! Be you in there?
Hep. Yes, Lem! What is it?
Enter Lem. He is tall and angular; about forty years old, and self-
important.
Lem. Mornin’, Miss Cynthy. I hear you ain’t leavin’ us after all.
Cyn. No, I’ve decided to stay.
Hep. Lem Sawyer, what do you suppose Cynthy has up an’ done?
Lem. I swan, I give up. You wimmen folks is likely ter do most
anything. What now?
Hep. She’s took a boarder. A teetotal stranger! Took him right out
o’ the fog last night.
Lem. Well, that ain’t the only queer thing that wuz done in the bay
last night. Where’s Samuel?
Hep. Samuel? Mercy sakes, gone to school, I suppose. (Looks at
clock.) No, ’tain’t time yet. I don’t know where he is.
Lem. Well, I got to get holt o’ him before he gets into school. Come
an’ look for him!
Hep. What on airth has he been up to now?
Lem. Nothing. I got to find out some more ’bout that pipe business.
I guess fer once there wuz more truth than poetry in what he told.
There wuz seven pipes stole last night.
 Hep.
Cyn.
} (together). Seven?
Lem. Yep! An’ the post office wuz broke into!
Hep. What?
Cyn. Mercy sakes!
Lem. I guess there ain’t been sech doin’s in this town fer quite a
spell. I reckon as constable o’ Bay Point I’m goin’ ter be pretty busy.
By the way, Cynthy, you say you’ve took a stranger in? Where does
he hail from?
Cyn. Why—why, he didn’t say. Land sakes, Lem, he’s nothing but
a boy. You wouldn’t go to suspecting any one jest because they was
a stranger in town.
Lem. I dunno. I’ll be back later. I got to keep my eye on everybody,
strangers especially.
Hep. That’s right, Lem. I see this little flip that’s boardin’ with
Cynthy an’ I don’t like the looks of him at all. I wouldn’t trust him as
fur as I could heave a cat!
(Exit, c., followed by Lem.)
Cyn. (indignantly, following them to door). Hepsy Sawyer! (Stands
looking after them a second, and goes slowly back to table. She
suddenly discovers the empty muffin dish.) My land! Two dozen
muffins!
(Ber. sticks his head in the door.)
Ber. (at the top of his voice). Fresh mackerel!
Cyn. (turning with a start). Land sakes, Cap’n! Is it you?
Ber. (laughing and stepping in). I reckon it is! You didn’t go after
all?
Cyn. No, I didn’t. Cap’n Berry, it’s the strangest thing. After you left
last night, I—I got to thinking about what you said. It was enough to
set anybody thinking and the more I thought about it, the more I
believed you were right and finally I said jest what you told me to,
and I put back all the things I had been packing and made up my
mind to stay right here. Then I said it again, and I was jest thinking
that I was making a terrible fool of myself, when there comes a
knock at the door, and a young fellow comes in out of the storm and
wants to board with me.
Ber. (smiling). Yes?
Cyn. My land! Is that all you are going to say? Aren’t you
surprised?
Ber. No. It was odd the way it happened, but something, you
know, was bound to happen.
Cyn. Well, I’m beat! I ain’t got over it yet.
Ber. (taking her hand). I’m glad, Miss Tinker, glad as I can be, an’
now you jest keep your eye on the Beacon and you will make port all
right. Like your boarder?
Cyn. Oh, yes, he’s a nice little fellow with a real taking way, if I can
only keep him filled up. If he eats everything the way he eats muffins
I don’t know. Ain’t you over early, Cap’n?
Ber. Yes, rather. The constable telephoned fer me to come over
soon’s I could. Seems to have been a good deal goin’ on last night.
Post-office robbed and seven pipes took.
Cyn. You didn’t find yours then?
Ber. No.
Cyn. Ain’t it the queerest thing?
Ber. Seems kind of that way. I’ll look in agin before I go back to
the point. I’d kind of like to get a look at your boarder.
Cyn. Well, I guess you won’t be the only Bay Pointer taken that
way. I expect the whole town before the day is over.
Ber. (laughing). Shouldn’t wonder. Well, I’ve got a special reason
for wantin’ to see him. (Heartily.) I’m glad, Miss Cynthy, more’n glad!
[Exit, c.
 (Cyn. clears the remaining things from the table and exits r.,
leaving sugar bowl and pitcher of water on the table. Peter
knocks several times at door, and finally steps in. Cyn. enters,
r., and looks at him in surprise.)
Cyn. Land sakes! I thought I heard some one knocking.
Peter (with a low bow). Yes, madame, I knocked but receiving no
response to my vociferous attack upon your door, I took the
unprecedented privilege of entering your charming domicile, I will not
say unheralded but unbidden.
Cyn. (staggering). Well, for the mercy, wh-what—did you want to
see me?
Peter. If you rejoice in the euphonious name of Cynthia Tinker, it
is you I seek. Are you Miss Tinker?
Cyn. Good land, yes! What on airth do you want?
Peter. I seek a place to satisfy the cravings of the inner man. Also
a place to rest my weary brain.
Cyn. I should think likely your brain would be weary. I don’t seem
to understand yet what it is you’re driving at. If you’d jest tell me kind
of plain like what you want of me.
Peter. I would like to board with you.
Cyn. (staggered). What?
Peter. Alas! Is that not plain enough? How can I say it in a more
simple form? I would like to sleep in one of your rooms, eat of your
delicious muffins.
Cyn. Muffins? What do you know about my muffins?
Peter. In faith not much, but you have a look about you which
tells me that you are an expert at muffins.
Cyn. (half convinced). Whatever made you come here?
Peter. I met a lady somewhat loquacious, but seeming
n’ertheless to know whereof she spoke, who advised me to come.