Keeper of the Light

too.” He raised his voice an octave to imitate her. “‘What was she really like, Alec?’ You had me spilling my guts to you.”

“Alec, I know it must look that way, but…”

“Well, I’ll tell you something, Olivia.” He was standing right in front of the table, and she forced herself to look up into his eyes. “If you were trying to be like Annie, you’ve failed miserably. You’ll never be anything like her, and I’m not just talking about your lack of artistic talent.” He lifted the graph paper on which she had carefully drawn the design of hot-air balloons and crumpled it between his fists before throwing it to the floor. “I’m talking about the way you lie and deceive and manipulate. Annie was always open, always honest. She couldn’t have lied if her life depended on it.”

She could see nothing except the anger in Alec’s eyes. The rest of the room had blurred, darkened.

Alec picked up the wrapped oval window from the work table and looked down at Tom. “I’ll come back for the enlargement tomorrow,” he said. “Right now I need to get out of here.”

Olivia watched him leave, and then she was alone with Tom, uncertain how to break the silence.

“You know,” he said, his voice very soft after Alec’s rage, “I knew Paul had more than a casual interest in Annie. I’d be in here sometimes when he’d come in to talk to her, and it would be obvious. Annie thought it was my imagination, but I, uh…” He ran his big hand over his face, as though he suddenly felt very weary. “Well, let’s just say I understood how Paul felt.”

He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it before he continued. “After she died, he couldn’t stop buying her work. He spent a small fortune. I’d try to slow him down, but he had one thing on his mind, and that was Annie. I didn’t think you knew, though, so I kept my mouth shut about it.”

He took a drag on the cigarette and looked toward the front door. “In all the years I’ve known Alec, I’ve never seen him that angry. I should remind him that he’s the one who asked you to go to lunch with him. I was a witness, remember? It wasn’t like you went after him.”

Tom’s voice was soothing, the odor of tobacco in his hair and on his clothes, suddenly comforting. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, close her eyes.

He stood up to retrieve the crumpled graph paper Alec had thrown on the floor. “So,” he said, as he sat down again, spreading the paper flat on the table. “Are you still interested in stained glass or was that just an attempt to be more like Annie?”

Olivia turned her eyes away from the simplistic design. It suddenly looked like a drawing in a coloring book. She stood up and began packing her belongings into the tote bag. “I was interested,” she said, “but I guess I’m not very good at it.”

“He’s just angry, Olivia.” Tom stood up, too. He lifted the tote bag to her shoulder, squeezed her hand. “Even Annie had to start somewhere.”

She drove directly to Alec’s house, and she could not have said if she was relieved or chagrined to see the Bronco in the driveway.

Lacey answered the door. “Olivia!” She grinned.

“Hi, Lacey. I need to see your father.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Lacey said. “He came home a while ago with a real attitude.”

“I know, but I need to talk to him.”

“He’s around the side,” Lacey pointed out the door. “He’s putting in the little window.”

She thanked Lacey and walked around to the side of the house. Alec was working on the window, at about the height of his chest. He glanced toward her as she approached, but that was all it was—a glance—and he said nothing to make the next few minutes easier on her. Last night he had told her he missed her, he admired her, and he had been about to tell her more. He had to feel like a fool.

She stood next to him in the sand. “Please let me talk to you,” she said.

He didn’t answer. He was caulking around the small, delicate window, and he didn’t bother to take his eyes from his task. “Oh, Alec, please don’t be angry with me.”

He looked at her. “Can you possibly blame me?”

She shook her head. “I want to explain, but it’s…so complicated.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to believe a word you say, anyway.” He ran his finger over the caulk.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “In the beginning, there didn’t seem much point to it and I thought it would only…disturb you. Then you started working with Paul. How could I possibly tell you then?”

He didn’t answer, and she continued. “Yes, I wanted to understand Annie better. Paul idolized her, you loved her, Tom Nestor thought the sun rose and set on her, the people at the shelter— everyone—adored her. I wanted to understand what she had that I didn’t. I wanted to know what made her so special in Paul’s eyes that he would…that after nearly ten years of a good marriage he could suddenly forget I existed.”

Alec looked out at the sound, where a speedboat was pulling a water skier smoothly across the water, close to the pier. Then he took a rag from his jeans pocket and focused on the window again, carefully wiping a smear of caulk from the yellow dress of the woman in the glass.

“Annie seemed like such a wonderful person,” Olivia said, fighting for his attention. “I did want to be more like her. I wanted to be generous and talented. That’s why I started working at the shelter, but now I truly enjoy it, Annie or no Annie. And that’s why I started doing stained glass, but I enjoy that, too, even if I’m not turning out any masterpieces.” She gestured toward the oval windows. “I’ve never had a…a hobby before. I’ve never take the time to…” She dropped her hand to her side, frustrated, as Alec crouched down in the sand to clean the nozzle of the caulk gun. Had he heard a word she’d said?

“I didn’t ever use you, Alec. Not intentionally. You came to me first, remember? And I know Paul wasn’t using you, either. He’s always been fascinated by the Kiss River Lighthouse. He had no idea you were involved on the committee, and he almost quit when he found out.”