Angora Alibi A Seaside Knitters Mystery - By Sally Goldenbaum Page 0,5
the comfort of longtime friendships. Ben passed glasses of water and wine around. “We thought we’d lost you for a minute there. This placed is packed.”
“I figured you’d be checking out the silent auction items, looking for treasures.” Cass smiled up at the quiet blond-haired man standing next to her. “Like Danny here. I think he’s going to surprise me by bidding on something amazing. Right?”
Danny Brandley walked his fingers up her bare back. “Who knows? Word has it that someone donated an expensive necklace, dripping with gems. . . .”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I was thinking more of those new lobster buoys Gus McClucken donated.”
They all laughed. Cass tried hard to maintain her tough fisherwoman image, but it didn’t fit her tonight, no matter how hard she tried. Tonight she was all Cinderella, her thick black hair loose about her shoulders. Torn jeans and a yellow slicker had given way to a midnight blue, spaghetti-strapped dress that in no way spoke of hog rings and head netting.
And Danny, her mystery writer friend, seemed to be enjoying every bit of his Cinderella.
Behind the bar, a dark-haired man shook a silver carafe, half listening to the group’s friendly conversation, a smile on his face.
Nell looked over and her face lit up. “Kevin Sullivan!” She leaned over the bar to hug the bartender. “I didn’t realize it was you. I think it’s the beard.”
“You like? I got tired of being carded when I was in New York.”
“Well, we’re happy to have you home again. Birdie tells me people are flocking to the Ocean’s Edge to taste your specialties.”
Kevin’s face reddened with his grin. “Aw, shucks.”
A year at the Culinary Institute clearly hadn’t rubbed away the young chef’s gentle veneer. “Head chef. Good for you, Kevin.” The others clapped their approval.
“So, master chef, what are you doing tending bar?” Cass asked.
Kevin poured a rose-colored drink mix into a glass. “How do you say no to Laura Danvers and Willow Adams—and both of them at once? They’ve mastered the fine art of getting free help.” He nodded toward a tall man farther down the bar. “They also figured I’d bring one of the Edge’s real bartenders along with me.”
“Who’s that? Just when I think I know the whole town, some great-looking guy appears,” Cass said.
Birdie slipped on her glasses and looked down the bar. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You know him, Cass. It’s that sweet little Tyler Gibson, all grown up. He’s been back home for a couple months now.”
Cass took a closer look. The man’s wide smile was concentrated on several young women walking by. “Ty? Good grief. I used to babysit the Gibson kids.” She stared at the well-built blond bartender until he finally looked their way.
He grinned, then shrugged and walked toward the group, lifting one broad hand in greeting. “Hey, Cass. I thought for a minute you weren’t going to acknowledge me.”
“The bane of my babysitting career.” Cass followed her words with a whooping laugh. “You were a mess.”
Tyler matched her laugh. “Hey, give a guy a chance. I’ve reformed. I haven’t snuck a beer past a babysitter in, what, a dozen years? I even mix drinks now—legitimately.” He puffed up his broad chest and cocked his thumb at the line of bottles behind him. “Believe it, O ye of little faith.”
Cass shook her head and looked around at the others. “This kid was a handful—and sweet-talked his way out of everything.”
Birdie waved her words away. “I’ve known Tyler since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’s a wonderful boy.” She pushed her glasses into her cap of silver hair and smiled at him. “Your grandmother is happy you’re back. Esther always stood by you even when your parents were ready to sell you to the highest bidder.” Birdie reached across the bar top and patted him on the cheek, a gesture only Birdie Favazza could carry off graciously.
Ty laughed. “Having a grandma who was the town’s police dispatcher was a pain when I was in high school, but she’s a great old gal. My folks retired to Florida, but Grams talked me into coming back to Sea Harbor. I got laid off a construction job in the city, so she paid for a quickie course in bartending and then sweetly talked Kevin into giving me a gig at the Ocean’s Edge.”
“Of course she did,” Birdie said. “She’d move the earth for you, and we’re happy she did.”
A group of college-aged women sidled up to the bar, their eyes and